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One friend was keen to invite Jane to the house dressed as Jane – her female alter ego – to show her acceptance. My friends were wonderful, promising to support me. Being able to share our big secret, I felt the pressure lift. With the holiday over, my thoughts had been spiralling.
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It was surprisingly enjoyable clothes-shopping with my husband.Īt first Barbara Hamlin had no idea that Jane’s desire to wear women’s clothing would lead to her wanting a full sex reassignment.īack to normality in the UK, I felt a sudden need to tell my two closest female friends about Jane. We went shopping together in Vancouver, the staff assuming the beautiful gold top we bought was for me, instead of her. I found myself exploring what it felt like to have a husband who wanted to wear female clothing. I never dreamt it would lead to her wanting a full sex reassignment later on.īeing on holiday, we were in a different, more experimental frame of mind.
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No one would need to know.īack then, I thought it was just about dressing up in women’s clothes. I assumed from then on this would be ‘our secret’, because of her job, her family and the stigma. I was 49 then and Jane was 48 and I’d always known we’d be together for the rest of our lives. If she’d told me out of the blue I might have reacted differently but finding out this way I was focussed on the relief that she wasn’t having an affair. She said she’d wanted to tell me for years but was worried how I’d react.Īs we lay in bed talking for hours, my reaction surprised me too. I could hear pure relief in her voice, as she explained that she found it relaxing to wear women’s clothing. She wasn’t upset that I’d found out either. I’d been so worried she’d been unfaithful to me, which would have been far worse. Hearing the truth – that the clothes were hers – was a huge relief. ‘They were for me,’ Jane replied sheepishly. Once we got to Canada, as we lay in bed in the dark together, I blurted out, ‘So what’s this bag of women’s clothes I’ve found then?’ It wasn’t the right time to raise it with us about to go on holiday. With great difficulty, I tried to pretend everything was fine when she came home from cricket. I carried on packing, my imagination running wild. I immediately thought she was having an affair, horrified that some other woman had been secretly coming to my house. I dug deeper and found a pair of size nine, black patent high heels. Inside was a denim mini skirt, a pair of denim hot pants and some women’s pants and lacy bras. I was busily packing for our holiday to Canada the next day, feeling mildly cross that Jane was out playing cricket, when I came across a bag of women’s clothes at the back of her wardrobe. It wasn’t until eight years into our marriage, in 1995, that a bombshell hit me. At my age, I felt it was too late to have children of my own and teaching at the secondary school fulfilled me anyway. She already had two children – a boy and a girl – from her previous marriage. She loved socialising like me and was also keen to travel the world.Įight months later, when I was 40, we got married. When Jane split up with her wife two years later, in 1987, we got together. Jane, by comparison, was gentle and kind. I was 38 and had recently separated from my husband after 18 years of marriage, because of his difficult moods. With hindsight, that was my only possible clue. She wore smart suits and I remember noticing her neatly manicured nails. Even though she – as I now call her – was married, we got on so well we started going to the pub together as friends.