Sophie's Premature Ageing (AP, DG, IQ-) Violet-C

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Re: Sophie's Premature Ageing (AP, DG, IQ-) Violet-C

Postby Violet-C » Wed Jul 18, 2018 6:33 am

Hi Robyn

Thanks for the kind words. I will let you know when I have anything that might be worth publishing.

Apologies for the holiday. I hope you will feel that the remaining instalments were worth the wait.

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Re: Sophie's Premature Ageing (AP, DG, IQ-) Violet-C

Postby Camille » Wed Jul 18, 2018 9:35 am

Violet-C wrote:
Camille - Could I ask you a question. I know you have published work on Amazon in e-book format, does it sell and is it worthwhile my trying to boost my income by possibly publishing this or another story I have in that format?



I think it's definitely worth it. It's passive income after all and what do you have to lose? The main problem is reaching your target audience - so setting up your own blog and/or building your e-mail list to slowly build up a following are absolute musts. Otherwise, how would people find your stuff among millions of Kindle books out there? Another thing: publishing one or two books won't do much - to really start earning more than a few hundred dollars/book you'd need to publish LOTS of books and do so consistently. After all, even if you have a thousand devoted fans they can only buy your book once. It's now over a year since I last published and my sales are zero on most days (after very busy first 2-3 months) - it's just that the market is narrow for such niche literature and fans tend to buy right away. Feel free to drop me a line if you want to discuss further, happy to share more tricks and some numbers if you are interested. Also, happy to promote your book in my blog and with my subscribers if you want. Pretty sure our readers overlap to a large degree.
My blog on ladies and maids swapping roles: http://lady2maid.blogspot.com/
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Re: Sophie's Premature Ageing (AP, DG, IQ-) Violet-C

Postby Violet-C » Thu Jul 19, 2018 12:29 am

Thanks Camille, I'll get something over to you to take a look at if you have the time over the next couple of months.

Regarding your great blog are BbigBird or Monica ever likely to continue the Marta and Daphne stories? I hope they don't lose interest at this point.

Personally stories set in the modern era I find much easier to relate to than those set in the Victorian/Edwardian era also I like the way in both those cases the heroine/victim willingly initiates or engages in their own downgrade. For me the Magic Spell or sudden memory loss don't work nearly as well. There has to be some kind of psychological flaw or desire within the main character making them spiral downwards and giving some sense of plausibility.

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Re: Sophie's Premature Ageing (AP, DG, IQ-) Violet-C

Postby Violet-C » Mon Aug 06, 2018 1:53 am

Part 13

I finally moved in during the second week of April and soon afterwards my life had fitted into the wonderfully boring but still fantastically stimulating routine of the elderly woman I'd become. After waking I’d spend 30 minutes doing my yoga exercises at home, take my medication and then I’d shower and start getting into my Mildred costume, often leaving curlers in my hair if I didn’t have to go out. I always dressed purely for comfort these days with a loose fitting blouse and cardigan and usually a flared skirt with an elasticated waist. My day would be spent in my padded floral slippers unless I was going out when I’d put on my orthopedic shoes. I’d then have a small breakfast of cereal, toast and milky sweet tea, usually experiencing the discomfort of crumbs under my “dentures” before I embarked on at least an hour’s cleaning of the flat with mindless daytime television on in the background.

I was determined to live on a budget befitting a woman on a retirement pension. My fresh salads and healthy wholemeal foods had gone. I survived on Supermarket own breakfast cereals and similar jam and marmalade and white bread typically with baked beans or cheap tinned food. I limited my fresh fruit intake as I was determined to make the necessary sacrifices to live convincingly as Mildred.

I also relished the adaptions I’d made to the flat. Especially the raised toilet seat as pulling myself up from a low chair was becoming increasingly difficult due to the restrictions of my costume and curvature of the spine that it was creating. I hoped it wasn’t going to cause any long term damage but hoped my yoga exercises would compensate although by the third week. I had noticed that many of them were becoming more difficult for me to execute.

I was now quite happy to venture out most afternoons in my new persona and by May I had almost stopped thinking of this as being an act and I had become fully immersed in my role. I would visit a day centre on two afternoons each week and usually spend time in rather pointless chatter about the old days with my new friends Mavis and Rose and we thought of ourselves as three widows together. Rose was still quite stylish for a lady in her 70s and harboured hopes of finding another man before too long as widowhood clearly didn’t suit her. Mavis seemed far more content with her life and as for me, well what did I really want or expect from the rest of my life from now on? I still didn’t really know where I was heading but I was determined that for the six months that my house was tenanted I was not going to back out of the agreement I’d reached with myself to live entirely as Mildred. I actually greatly looked forward to their company and was getting quite used to my new life of living alone and only hoped that they wouldn’t find out that I was a fake. Not anymore because of my fear of being caught but purely that I had grown close to my new friends very quickly and did not want to hurt their feelings by being found out. I had also began to appreciate how much I genuinely liked them and as time went on we seemed to have so much more in common. The thought of being chatted up by some creepy bloke as Sophie seemed appalling and clattering down the Kings Road in high heels was not something I missed at all.

I thought of Rose and her hopes and I wondered if that opportunity would present itself to me and how I would feel going on a date with a man of a suitable age. “Would that or could that happen?” I thought to myself.

I also visited a bingo hall for the first time one Wednesday evening and somehow quite enjoyed the total escapism of the evening and that everyone was so welcoming and happy to make the pointless small talk that I was becoming so accustomed to.

I also started to attend mass every Sunday morning at the local church and was now on good terms with both the priests who serviced the parish and even considered attending confession, which would be the first time since my late teens. I wasn’t ready for that yet, but new that as a good catholic parishioner it was something that Mildred would undoubtedly do and something that I knew I was going to do shortly.

But other than that my days had slipped into an easy routine of cleaning, shopping and cooking and I was determined to live within my weekly pensioner’s budget which meant that I didn’t buy anything without carefully checking the price and I visited the local library for books or charity shops for 2nd hand romantic fiction which thankfully was readily available at very low prices.

By the time that June had come around it suddenly dawned on me that it had been over a week since I last checked my emails or did any typing up of my so-called research. Although I was undoubtedly lonely at times I had almost stopped fooling myself that there was any academic purpose to my “work” other than I simply felt compelled to live as Mildred. I was also not sure if my mind was really up to the rigours of hard academic research. I’d not read a serious newspaper or watched any real news on television since I’d started my new life. I had simply become Mildred.

I had grown so used to my arched back and wrinkled face and it no longer horrified me when I looked in the mirror and I genuinely loved my newly permed grey hair and my fortnightly visit to the local salon on the discounted senior citizen’s day was one of the few treats I had living on my budget.

Jenny would ring me at least once a week encouraging me to keep this up, emphasising how proud she felt of me and of the research work I was doing. I tried telling her that I didn’t feel proud of myself and didn’t really think I was achieving much other than living out some slightly deranged fantasy. I also kept telling her that whilst I had the option of just turning my back on this I was effectively a fake. She assured me that the longer I stayed as Mildred the less of a fake I was and I could take this as far as I felt brave enough to go. I tried to probe her on what she meant by that and she said that these days anyone could become whoever they wanted to be and look however they wanted to look. She told me that the key question to ask myself was how did I usually think of myself now, was I more Mildred than I was Sophie. I lied that I didn't really know and that I was still Sophie inside. Truly I felt much more of me was now Mildred than was Sophie but I wasn’t quite ready to admit that to anyone else bar myself. She asked me if I’d been taking the medicine as she suggested and I assured her I was and that I was suffering all the elderly side effects. I was constantly tired, I couldn’t move suddenly without suffering a slight giddiness and most embarrassingly of all the incontinence pads came in very useful. If I stayed home in the afternoon I would regularly doze off in front of the television and if I hadn’t remembered to go to the toilet straight after my lunch then there was likely to have been a slight accident when I woke.

Jenny assured me that that was good, and that it was all helping me to be the woman I’d set out to become and that I should have no fear about the effects of aging,

I realized that I had become more and more accustomed to this life and did indeed think of myself less and less as Sophie anymore. Then, one afternoon at the day centre a quite unexpected event occurred. A gentleman who I had seen there once or twice came over to me and introduced himself as Frank, Frank Matthews. I could tell he would have been very attractive in his youth. He wore a double-breasted blazer with slim moustache and his full head of white hair was swept elegantly back off his forehead. He mentioned that he’d seen me there before and hadn't had a chance to speak and wondered “What an attractive young woman like me was doing there?”

I almost fainted thinking he’d spotted I was a fake but then realized he was just turning on the charm for Mildred. Once I realised this, I felt quite shocked but also unexpectedly flattered. Even Mildred could have an admirer. The rest of the afternoon sped by as we chatted like old friends about the fact that we’d both been widowed and didn’t see enough of our grandchildren. I’d rehearsed Mildred’s cover story so many times and repeated parts of it to so many different people over the past few months this now came as second nature to me and I could almost believe it as being the truth myself and speaking in my elderly slightly croaky voice was also something I could now turn on at will and maintained that even when speaking to Jenny or to Sam when she came to visit her Gran.

But there was no mistaking the fact that I had made a new friend and this was both thrilling but also worrying in equal measure. How far could this go without me being uncovered?
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Re: Sophie's Premature Ageing (AP, DG, IQ-) Violet-C

Postby Mars » Mon Aug 06, 2018 2:00 am

Nice to see you back Violet, thanks for the continuation!
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Re: Sophie's Premature Ageing (AP, DG, IQ-) Violet-C

Postby Robyn H » Tue Aug 07, 2018 11:03 am

Good to see you back and posting, Violet. I hope you enjoyed your break.

It seems Sophie is enjoying hers - or at least what started out as a break but seems to be becoming more just her new life. I find it slightly worrying (for Sophie, that is) that Jenny is encouraging her to continue with the medication that is making her both dizzy and incontinent as well as making her tired. The side effects may well not be trivial especially after a prolonged time. I wonder how long it will be before she doesn't bother with her daily yoga sessions because it's 'too much bother for an old lady' and she becomes increasingly immobile.

It would be interesting to read about her 'granddaughter's' visits. Is Sam still adopting a different persona? Does she still get a kick out of Sophie's transforming into Mildred?

I'm not religious at all but I understand that Catholics treat confession quite seriously. We don't know if Sophie is as religious as Mildred but one of them may have to lie in the confessional which might make for some conflict whether she lies or even tells the truth about who she is.

Great stuff, thanks

R
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Re: Sophie's Premature Ageing (AP, DG, IQ-) Violet-C

Postby summertime » Wed Aug 08, 2018 2:15 pm

Robyn H wrote:Good to see you back and posting, Violet. I hope you enjoyed your break.

It seems Sophie is enjoying hers - or at least what started out as a break but seems to be becoming more just her new life. I find it slightly worrying (for Sophie, that is) that Jenny is encouraging her to continue with the medication that is making her both dizzy and incontinent as well as making her tired. The side effects may well not be trivial especially after a prolonged time. I wonder how long it will be before she doesn't bother with her daily yoga sessions because it's 'too much bother for an old lady' and she becomes increasingly immobile.

It would be interesting to read about her 'granddaughter's' visits. Is Sam still adopting a different persona? Does she still get a kick out of Sophie's transforming into Mildred?

I'm not religious at all but I understand that Catholics treat confession quite seriously. We don't know if Sophie is as religious as Mildred but one of them may have to lie in the confessional which might make for some conflict whether she lies or even tells the truth about who she is.

Great stuff, thanks

R


I think it could be interesting if Sam and Jenny arrange for Mildred to attend a day service for less able elderly people and have her assessed for different mobility aids.
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Re: Sophie's Premature Ageing (AP, DG, IQ-) Violet-C

Postby Camille » Wed Aug 08, 2018 11:07 pm

Thanks for keeping the story alive. Great attention to small details and highly inventive. Love it and can't wait to see where it goes further!
My blog on ladies and maids swapping roles: http://lady2maid.blogspot.com/
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Re: Sophie's Premature Ageing (AP, DG, IQ-) Violet-C

Postby Violet-C » Mon Aug 13, 2018 12:27 am

Part 14

Over the next few weeks Frank had taken me out for afternoon tea more than once and even down to Brighton where we walked along the seaside. I was appalled when a gust of wind blew up my flared skit and I though he had a brief glimpse of my incontinence pants, If he did he was thankfully too much of a gentleman to mention it, but it was very embarrassing.

I thought I needed to speak to Jenny to tell her about this unexpected turn of events and how I really liked him but was so scared of being found out and also hurting his feelings. I was petrified of him kissing me and although my latex face looked convincing enough it was not going to fool the touch of anyone’s lips, I found myself crying on the phone to Jenny that Frank was so sweet and I simply couldn’t bear to hurt him.

Jenny was as usual sensible and asked me the most obvious question, did I want to be Mildred or did I want to be Sophie. With tears rolling down my face I almost screamed out I don't want to be Mildred, I am Mildred, Sophie doesn’t exist anymore, but I don't look how I feel I need to look. I can’t go on with this fake bodysuit forever. I want, no I need Mildred’s body and face to be mine but I just don’t know how. “Am I going mad?” I screamed at her.

Jenny was her kind understanding self and felt that the best idea was that I came to stay in her nursing home again. As before, Sam could bring me down and that would give her a good chance to look at me and see how I was. She also felt that she could get a psychiatrist that she knew to visit me once or twice in the home. He could then advise as to whether I needed to stop this alternative life once and for all or hopefully advise that I was perfectly sane but just wanted to live the life of my own choosing and that it would then be up to me to decide how practical or realistic that option could become.

I choked back my tears and apologized to Jenny for my overly emotional outburst on the phone and explained how I didn’t want to be a continual strain on her and she surprised me by replying that I wasn’t to worry we can’t help getting old and we’re all likely to need support at sometime and she’d be there for me as long as I needed her, as would Sam.

The next few days raced by, as I got ready to return to the home in Penarth. Sam came over a few times to make sure that all my make-up essentials were good enough to stand up to sustained observation and I couldn’t help but look forward to the total loss of control and the overall feeling of comfort and safety that I remembered the home providing on my last visit.

Then on the day of our trip Sam arrived in her full Goth/Punk garb looking quite stunning and unrecognizable in her own unique way to accompany me. As before, she’d organized all the travel and this time being so much more relaxed after taking my sleeping pill first thing, soon found myself being shaken awake by Sam as the train approached Cardiff station. The whole journey had been a blur that I had slept my way through. I was horrified when Sam told me I had snored loudly for most of the way to the amusement of a number of passengers seated close by. I was now quite accepting of such indignities as simply being part of getting older and compared to the dampness I felt in my pants as we got off the train a few loud snores was nothing to be ashamed of.

Sam comfortably wheeled my large suitcase and carried the smaller one whilst again holding my arm as I shuffled along the platform beside her, stick firmly supporting me on the other side. With her in her wedge heels towering over her stopped grandmother.

We were soon in the taxi driving through the Cardiff suburbs to the home and I now felt wide awake with the excitement of seeing Jenny again and settling in. We had decided that I was to pretend that my dementia had increased slightly and I was to display no signs of remembering having been at the home before which gave me an extra thrill of further descending into a world of total dependency.

This time shortly after we emerged from the taxi I saw Jenny walking down the small flight of steps from the home to meet us. She shook hands with Sam, jokingly admiring her rather striking image and then greeted me with a warm hello, telling me I had absolutely nothing to worry about and I was to think of it as a wonderful holiday.

“oh, hello” I replied “Where am I, is this a hotel and where are you staying Samantha?”

“Don't worry” I was reassured as I was led through the door and seated into the familiar chairlift to be taken to my room.

Once we got there, Jenny and I were able to have a conversation regarding her plans for me, which came as something of a surprise. She said that she’d arranged for a psychiatrist friend of her’s to visit me in the home under the pretence that he was a distant relative. He would spend some time with me in my room and make an assessment. Clearly, this had no medical standing as he was doing it as a favour for Jenny but she felt it would help understand my feelings.

I offered a token resistance asking if she thought I was losing my mind but actually I was relieved to have the opportunity to meet someone other than Jenny or Sam and to discuss how I felt and to hopefully receive some re-assurance of my mental well-being.

Jenny told me that he was called Dr. Sanderson and that he did not know my real name so I had nothing to worry about but knew I was a young geriatric researcher who was living incognito as an elderly woman and wanted to know how far she could safely take this new life that she’d created. I was told I had absolutely nothing to worry about but it was imperative that I was totally honest with him about my feelings toward Mildred.

The first two days in the home went exactly as before, I dozed fitfully through the day, eating the monotonous bland food and having brief meaningless conversations with the other residents. Other than insuring that my make-up and costume was applied correctly I had nothing to worry about and had long stopped caring about my little accidents as I and referred to them.

On the third day after our lunch, a rather tasteless meat stew, just as I was settling into my favourite armchair one of the staff told me that my nephew had come to see me. I was initially confused but then remembered about Dr. Sanderson coming incognito.

“Hello Aunt Mildred” he introduced himself. “I’m your nephew John, it must be almost 20 years since we last met, do you remember me?”
“Of course I do” I lied.
He suggested we go up to my room and with the help of one of the staff I was taken to the stair-lift and off we went.
I sat in the one chair in my room whilst he sat on the edge of the bed opposite me and the nurse said she’d bring us both tea.
Once she left, he reminded me that he was Jenny’s friend Dr. Sanderson and that we should make some pleasant small talk until the tea had arrived.
Once we’d started drinking our tea he said I was to treat our conversation as being entirely unofficial and completely confidential.

He had a wonderfully warm comforting manner and I felt totally relaxed in his presence and trusting enough to pour my heart out more willingly than I even did even to Jenny.

He didn’t probe into who I really was but asked me about my childhood and how I’d got to where we now were.

We discussed my body and how happy I was and I believe that I told him honestly that for some reason I felt far happier but even more importantly more content as Mildred than I ever did in my younger persona and that Mildred felt far more like the real me than I’d ever felt before. I told him that I’d become so accepting of my new life that I simply didn’t want to return to my old younger life and that I felt a blissful contentment sitting in a comfortable armchair dozing off wearing my cozy slippers, but I'd rather do that without the confines of the disguise I was force to wear. I took a deep breath and told him “I really need Mildred’s body to be mine, I know that’s insane but I want the wrinkled skin, aching joints and arthritic fingers she has. I feel the need to suffer as so many elderly women have to, to not just pretend anymore”

I couldn’t believe I’d actually got that off my chest, and to a total stranger. Deep down I knew from almost the first moment I set up home in Mildred McManus’s run down flat in Fulham that this was who I needed to be and now I’d said it.

He looked a little surprised at my comments but maintained his professional composure whilst pressing me subtlety as too how long I’d felt like this etc etc.

Our conversation went on for some time and finally after a wonderful afternoon speaking, he said he felt he could get a colleague of his to meet me who was a specialist in body dysmorphic disorders just so I could be re-assured that this wasn’t what had driven me to my current status. Clearly, long before embarking on this journey I had spent time studying that and how people were so dissatisfied with their own body and constantly searched for perfection or the need to make changes, but I felt confident I was not a sufferer.

With that he got up off the bed and said he’d better go, but Jenny would let me know when the specialist would be able to see me. He was based in London but he knew I’d be returning there before long so it shouldn’t be too inconvenient for the two of us to meet. He then asked if I wanted to come back downstairs and I told him that I’d stay in my room for a while longer on my own.

The next few days passed in a joyous blur of half completed conversations, bland food, sleepy afternoons and trips to the toilet, that were, sometimes a little too late. The staff as before were simply wonderful and I didn’t want for anything and on this visit had so happily taken to my stress free life at the nursing home that I could gladly have stayed forever and I spent the entire time wearing the incredibly comfortable slippers, the thought of struggling to wear heels ever again just seemed totally alien to me now.

Jenny regularly stopped to talk to me and when I was in my room asked how I was feeling and whether I was as genuinely as happy as I seemed, to which I could only reply in the affirmative, with my only concern as being discovered, but I was utterly content with this new elderly life.

But most importantly she told me that Dr. Sanderson had been in touch and when I returned to London I could see Professor Rutherford his friend and colleague who was a specialist in body dysmorphia. She told me that he was a private consultant and so I would have to pay to see him at his Harley Street practice but he would be able to advise me as to whether I should give this up or what if any treatment I should receive.

I picked up on the word “treatment” and hoped that my hearing aids hadn’t let me down.
“What do you mean by treatment Mrs. Griffiths?” I asked, trying to stay in character.
“I hope you don’t think I’m going mad?”

“Well from what I’m led to believe” she replied, “He’s not only very well thought of in his field but he doesn't believe that the best treatment is some kind of psychological assessment to get to the bottom of a patient’s so called problem. When he’s been genuinely convinced that the patient has a real rational need to modify their bodies then he’s happy whenever possible or practical to refer them to the most suitable surgeon”

“What are you saying, I could actually have surgery to become Mildred?”

“Well let’s not get ahead of ourselves” she cautioned me

“Its just that from what Dr. Sanderson told me, it is actually surgically possible, but obviously no reputable surgeon would perform the many procedures involved without being absolutely convinced that it was the right course of action and I imagine the cost would be considerable, although I imagine in your case it would still be affordable”

For a moment I was dumbstruck, whilst I had dreamt of such a possibility I had always snapped myself out of such thoughts as being impossible, could this actually be achieved I now asked myself?

“Jenny that’s amazing I had no idea I was potentially so close. When can I see Professor Rutherford?”

“I’ll make contact with his office on your behalf, but I believe within a couple of weeks, but is this what you really want and also don’t think it will happen. He may not be willing to help you at all”

“No I realize that” I replied “but I do need to try, I don’t believe what I’m feeling is some passing fantasy and I have no doubt that he’ll be convinced that my need is genuine”.
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Re: Sophie's Premature Ageing (AP, DG, IQ-) Violet-C

Postby summertime » Mon Aug 13, 2018 1:23 am

Another great chapter, it certainly looks as if Mildred will get her wish, body dysmorphia is a nice twist
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