Affirmation

Last Saturday, I was invited to a party held by my friends Troy and River.  They called it the "Post-Mayan Apocalypse Zombie Solstice Party".  What a name, eh?  I attended the party they held last year in my male guise.  As I have been trying to get out more in my femme persona, that's how I went this time around.

I wore a "Christmas" sweater which has languished in my closet since last year.  It's teal and it glitters.  I wore the sweater over a pair of purple skinny jeans, with my grey boots.  I've got one decent picture of myself from that night:

I did my nails specially for the night: one coat of Spoiled "I Don't Drink Cheap Wine" (sort of magenta) and a second coat of Spoiled "Ants in My Pants" (clear red with glitter).  I was pleased with the effect.

Where they live is not far off one of the major bus routes, so I knew I could get there using public transportation.  Halfway to my transfer point, the bus broke down.  A nice gentleman from Star Metro came out and picked me up along with another passenger in a van, and promised to deliver us to our destinations.  Through the whole experience, the transit guy spoke of me as "that woman, her and she" and addressed me as "Ma'am".  Not all of my encounters with government employees have been so polite, or so positive.  Can
I borrow a phrase from my British friends and say that I was chuffed, or is that too masculine?

The party was great.  Troy and River have lots of friends, and there was a lot of food and drink, and a bonfire and...  Yeah, it was great. I had a wonderful conversation with a woman there whose child is Ftm.  I got a few compliments on my outfit.  The food was incredible.  A good time was had by all.

Yesterday was my third therapy session.  By mutual agreement with her, I attended en femme.  It was COLD yesterday, so I dressed simply in a blue sweater, skinny jeans (not the purple ones) and my boots.  At the start of our session, she told me that I seemed the most like myself of all the times I had come to see her.  Our discussion was wide-ranging, covering many topics, and not just those related to being trans.  I did speak a bit about that, though.  We talked about music, and dancing.  She gave me a "homework" assignment: I am to dance for at least fifteen minutes every day.  Would that all of my past homework assignments were so easy.

On Transfolk

Here's a link to a thoughtful, well-written piece from a writer I very much admire.  Please give it a read:

On Transfolk

Going Forward, Finally

Back in May I wrote a piece I called Beginning Again, For the First Time, wherein I expressed hopeful feelings about my future, and expected developments in my transition.  Well, to make the long story short, spring became summer and eventually autumn, and no progress was made of any kind.  At least not the kind intended.  I think I've said before that depression is all kinds of fun, and I failed to treat mine in a responsible fashion.  That is now in the past.

In November, I started attending the meetings of Transgender Tallahassee, the local support group.  Later in the month, I went back to Apalachee Center to refill my scrips, and discovered that my case worker had retired.  I got to meet my new case worker, and she immediately scheduled me to see a counselor.  We've had two sessions, and I'm going back to see her next week.

In the midst of all this goodness, I lost my job.  Yes, again.  Back in October, a guest vaguely complained that I was "rude and unprofessional".  I don't remember it that way, but the complaint came in the form of a guest survey, so the event generated a written warning and my working hours were slashed.  After a couple of weeks of working two or three shifts, I was informed of more complaints and given the boot.  I had about sixty seconds of dark, dark thinking, but I took a couple of deep breaths and kept going.  I've registered with the local employment agency and have dropped applications and resumes at all of the hotels in the neighborhood of the old place.  I've even applied at non-hotel jobs, because I need to work.

I think I understand the AA theory of taking things one day at a time.

Not That Bad, Really

Depression is a funny thing.  I don't mean that it's entertaining, though I suppose that it can be.  What I do mean is that it's an up-and-down situation.  Last Sunday I was feeling down on myself, but Saturday was actually a pretty good day, and it took some introspection to recognize it for what it was.  20/20 hindsight is nice, but I wouldn't mind being able to seeing the good for what it is, when it is.

Last Saturday I spent my time at the first ever Florida Secular Rally.  We got off to a bit of a late start (the stage wasn't delivered until late), but a good time was had by all.  There were speeches from various luminaries of the secular/atheist movement, entertainment by Shelley Segal and Greydon Square.  We had some of the best food truck catering on the planet, courtesy of Sir Cheezy and The Great American Sandwich Station.  I got to spend the day with some really awesome people, all of whom were totally okay with me en femme (and they all used the correct pronouns).

Oddly enough, there was one trans blogger there, and I watched her presentation, but somehow never worked up the nerve to introduce myself.  That was Zinnia Jones, and you'll find a link to her blog on the right side of the page here.  I am embarrassed that I had never heard of her before this event was organized.  Months ago, I was asked if I knew any LGBT bloggers who wrote about the secular life, and I all but drew a blank.  I knew of Greta Christina, but knowing of is not knowing, if you know what I mean.  The months whizzed by, and one of the organizers told me they got Zinnia Jones, and I said "Who?"  Anyway, her bit is on Youtube, and you can see it here.

True story: all night long, people came up to me at the after party and told me they loved my presentation.  Zinnia looked to be about six inches shorter than me, with long dark hair.  I was dressed all in black, with only my flaming red hair to break up the monochromatic theme.  I don't know how anyone could have confused us, but if I must resemble someone else, I could do a lot worse.

Pulling the Plug

I don't know if anyone still reads this thing, but I am thinking of quitting.  My writing has been the most sporadic since I started this thing, despite almost my almost universal access to the web.  It's not that I don't have anything else to say; it's just that I don't know if anyone is reading the blog.  My last few posts generated a little feedback on Facebook, and a few of them have picked up +1s from Google+, but I don't think anyone is reading the actual blog.  I haven't fielded a single comment all year, and that hurts.

I realize that I began this blog as yet another trans blog (did you know there is an actual Yet Another Trans Girl Blog out there?) in a crowd that was already jam-packed.  Starting a blog was not the wellspring of inspiration I thought it would be.  I thought that having an outlet for my writing would be enough, and for a time it was.  My Muse bailed on me, though, and lately I have lacked the will to scale Parnassus to find her.  See what I just wrote there?  I CAN do this, it's just grown so damned hard.  I could write, ad infinitum, about my ongoing love of video games, but I've gotten the sense no one wants to read that stuff here.  There are scores of dedicated gamer blogs, blessedly unencumbered by the author's gender identity hang-ups.  Ditto for any of the other things that have captured my fancy over the years.  There are other sources for that stuff.  Anything new to see here?  Probably not.

The end of this blog isn't set in stone or anything.  I just need to know if I still have an audience.  I'm likely to write a little something later this month, if for no other reason because Bioware are releasing a new downloadable content pack for Mass Effect 3, and I may feel compelled to say a little something about it.  If anyone actually is still reading me, please, please drop me a line.  I'd even accept a well-worded rant at this point.

Something I'm Not Gonna Talk About

The internet in all its myriad forms has been up in arms these last few weeks regarding a statement made by the president of a fast food chain.  The kerfuffle has spilled over into the physical world, with talk of boycotts, protests and counter-protests.  I'm not going to say anything about it, other than to share this rather well-written piece by another blogger.

The Chicken Fellatio

Please don't let the title put you off.  If it grabs your attention, then the work is done.  The author puts everything into glaring clarity, far better than I could ever have expressed.

I'm Walkin'

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned before all the walking I do.  Some of the walking I do is necessary.  For instance, the nearest bus stop to home is 1.4 miles away,  I do this particular walk four or five times per week, either going to the stop, or heading home.  I've reached a point where I can usually do this distance in about twenty minutes.

That's what I did today, but it wasn't fast enough.  I got held up waiting for traffic at the crosswalk at Capital Circle.  As I crossed the road, I saw my bus (early, naturally) making the turn into the stop, and it pulled away before I could catch up with it.  The next bus wasn't due for another forty minutes.  The routes don't sync up on the weekends the way they do on weekdays, and I was worried that I'd miss the transfer bus which carries me to work.  I made a snap decision, and started walking toward the connection stop.  I wasn't sure of the distance.  I wasn't certain that I could make it, but I wasn't willing to hang around and take my chances with the next bus.

Google Maps tells me that the distance from my usual stop to the transfer point is 2.7 miles.  I did that walk in a little under forty minutes.  I made it to the stop with about ten minutes to spare.  A few minutes after I arrived, so too did the bus I was afraid would miss the transfer.  It arrived about five minutes before the bus I wanted to catch, even though the schedule shows it arriving later than that bus.  I could have waited, I suppose, but I would have missed a heck of a walk.

The weather was beautiful today.  It was sunny and hot, but there was a nice breeze.  The last couple of times I went walking, it rained.  Not so today.  I did get a bit hot, especially toward the end of my walk, but the activity felt good.  This was my second outing in a pair of sneakers I picked up at Payless this week.  I think they're well broken-in now.

Beginning Again, for the First Time

This blog is full of my dissembling about transition.  I've always said that I intend to transition, but in three years I have not taken one action to further that process.  Sure, there have been some obstacles thrown into my way, but I could still have at least spoken to someone in a position to help me, and I haven't.  Well, there will be no more of that.  Last week I spoke to my case worker at Apalachee Center about finding a specialist in gender identity, and he said he would find me one.  I've got my follow-up appointment in June, and we'll see what he comes up with.

Chloe Sevigny Feels Unattractive

Chloe Sevigny Fears She's Unattractive

I saw this today and immediately thought of my post of two months ago about not feeling attractive.  If she's playing a pre-op transsexual character, I suppose it's only fair if she experiences some of the negativity that we all feel about ourselves at some point.  Gods know I've always felt wrong about that thing down below.

Back from the Brink

Just like that, I went a couple of months without updating the blog.  I didn't mean to leave it so long, it's just that there's been a lot going on, and I haven't always been able to shape my thoughts into something coherent, or that anyone would necessarily want to read.

Now, my head's a little clearer.  To say that the last couple of months have been eventful would be an understatement.  Mass Effect 3 was finally released, and it was okay.  Shortly after, I started getting meds again, and I'll hopefully be starting therapy soon.  A little over a month ago, my father died.  Last but not least, I've started going out and about again, interacting with folks in my feminine persona, and I've largely been accepted.  Is it any wonder I've had trouble making sense of it all?  I've laid it all out in chronological order, but I hope you'll forgive me if I jump around a bit.

I finally got around to seeing a case worker at the Apalachee Center at the end of February.  A couple of weeks after, I saw an ARNP, who gave me scrips for my previous medications, along with a new one, a drug called Abilify.  The drugs have helped banish most of my dark thoughts, but they haven't quite un-fogged my brain this time around.  I've got another appointment next week, and I'll see if they can adjust things.  I haven't made it into any therapy, mostly because I'm not sure where I fit into their programs.  When I first came to them last summer, I was jobless and nearly homeless.  Today I have a regular job, and make a little more money than their average patient.  Hopefully I'll find out something positive next week.

The next paragraph includes spoilers for the game Mass Effect 3.  If you haven't played the game, or don't want to know about it, skip the next few bits, and I'll try to signal you when I get past all that.

As you may have heard, Mass Effect 3 was released in March to much fanfare.  It is a great game, but it's a little hard for me to play, and not because the gameplay is difficult.  ME3 is the end of a series, and it's one of the darkest games I've ever played.  There is death and destruction of unparallelled levels; planets fall, people die in the millions, and even your own party members can die.  Worst of all, all but one of the possible endings includes the death of Commander Shepard, the hero.  That's tough.  After three games and countless hours of playing through to different ends and outcomes, I am Commander Shepard.  The people who die are my crew, my squadmates.  I felt their deaths as acutely as if they were real people.

Okay, anyone who checked out because of my video game nonsense can come back in now.

Dad died April 9th, of lung cancer.  Apparently, he went quietly, and not in pain.  Losing him hurts, but somehow it doesn't hurt as much as the way I learned of his death.  Dad apparently went into the hospital in mid-March.  He was there for about three weeks before the end.  His nurse called a couple of hours before, to let us know he had maybe a couple of days.  She called back less than two hours later to inform us of his passing.  I would've liked to know he was sick.  I might've been able to work out a way to visit him, had I known.  When I finally learned, I was broke (till payday, anyway) and not in a position to come to a funeral.

I've had a hard time grieving.  I've cried a little, but I'm emotionally worn.  I've been tired, irritable and somewhat emotional, and that's with the aid of antidepressants.  Who knows what a wreck I might be left to my own devices?

On a more positive note, as I mentioned before, I've been getting out a bit.  Two weeks ago I stepped out for a pedicure, my first since last year.  Last week I got out for a Tallahassee Atheist event, a rally in front of the Capitol in support of a National Day of Reason.  I remember joking with someone that being transgendered was more acceptable to some people than being an atheist.  I had a good time, and we had a nice dinner afterward.  It's nice to have friends and be part of something again.

Pretty is not something I often feel

Let me open this one with a link:
Pretty is not something I often feel

Heather Ryan writes from the perspective of the plus-sized woman, and I guess I know something about that life, being somewhat large myself.  It's not the same, but I think I understand something of how she feels.

I have not entered into any sort of a relationship since my marriage ended.  I've had one casual hookup, and kissed a couple of people, but I've not dated or gotten as far as being "involved" with anyone.  I'm not sure I know how anymore.  I miss certain elements of being in a relationship, but I just don't know if I'm capable anymore.

The woman I married knew what I was when we tied the knot.   I think she knew better than I did, yet she still tried to engineer it out of me.  "I don't need you to do that anymore" was a common refrain.  I know better now.  Anyone I was to become involved with now would have to know all, and accept me, and love me for things to work.  "Maybe I'm just 2 demanding," so the song goes, but I've become an all or nothing lover, and I don't want it any other way.

It's not like I haven't been attracted to anyone.  It's just that my feelings are seldom reciprocated.  There are always caveats.  Can't be in a relationship with anyone I work with.  A lot of women who like me are turned off by the gender identity stuff.  I mean, they're cool with me being the way I am; they just don't want to be with me that way.  Some men find me attractive, but either they like the male side of me and not the female, or they're turned off because I'm too far to the male side of the spectrum to be attractive to them.  Those guys who used to message me on Facebook were much the same.

I can definitely relate to not feeling pretty.  It's not that I see myself as ugly.  I like to think my inner beauty at least partly shines through to the outside.  It's this body that puts me off myself.  I've got great legs, and all the walking has certainly helped me there.  My lumpy torso, on the other hand...  It's frustrating.

During my one of my trips out in January, I bought a new bra from Victoria's Secret.  I remember being overjoyed that they had something I could wear.  I got one of their "Biofit Uplift" bras.  "Biofit Uplift" is fancy VS language for "push-up".  I've never worn a push-up bra before, at least not with real breast forms, and so I wasn't prepared for the "uplift" feature.  One of the last times I tried to go out, I had to keep changing my top because of the bra.  I could've gotten away with showing a bit of cleavage, except that my breasts don't look that realistic without fabric covering them.  I ended up changing both the bra and my top, so it ceased to be an issue, but it left me feeling depressed, and that led to me canceling the trip outright.

Last month I went out to Skeptics in the Pub.  Walking from the bus stop to the bar, I bumped into a pleasant-seeming fellow who walked with me a ways before turning home.  We had a nice chat, I thought, except that he seemed to want me to come home with him, and I was reluctant to run off with a complete stranger.  I do have some feminine instincts.  Leaving out the usual self-preservation stuff, I didn't go with him because I got a little of a "tranny chaser" vibe from him.  Maybe I read him wrong, but I don't want to be with somebody who just wants me for the novelty of sleeping with a girl who has something extra.  I did give him my phone number, but it's almost a month on, and I haven't heard from him.  I guess I sent him all the wrong signals, too.

Counting Down the Days

Three days till I sit down with someone at the Apalachee Center to see if I can get back into an outpatient psych program.  Fourteen days till the release of Mass Effect 3.  One event fills me with a mixture of hope and uncertainty, whilst the other fills me with excitement.  Yeah, I know.  My priorities are out of whack.  If it takes the hope for a new video game to get me through the next two weeks, I see it as a small price to pay.

If I can get back into the program, then I can start seeing a therapist, get back onto antidepressants, and maybe get a referral to a gender specialist.  I don't like the idea of being dependent on chemicals, but I have seen what has become of me without them, and I'll risk a little dependency for peace of mind.  In any case, I'll know something in a few days.

It's been on-and-off, but I've been going out more.  I haven't been back to the movies, but I've done some shopping, and last weekend I made it out to another Skeptics in the Pub event.  This time I managed to get out en femme.  No one had anything negative to say, not even the folks who didn't know about that side of me.  It's nice hanging out with open-minded people.

I haven't let my love for video games dominate this blog, but I have occasionally let it have its way here.  Today is the latest instance.  This trailer features my character, the (real) female Commander Shepard.



This trailer debuted last night during AMC's "The Walking Dead", it shows a little of what the player is fighting for.



On February 14th, Bioware released a demo of the game over Xbox Live, and I have been playing it over and over.  They don't let you import your established characters into the demo, but you get to play as each of the six character classes, and they let you play out the game's opening level, as well as an abbreviated version of a later section, so you can try out some of the new abilities and such.  It's a great intro to the game and universe for new players, as well as a nice teaser for those of us who have followed since the beginning of the trilogy.  I have more to say about the game, but I fear it'd be opaque to most of my readers, so I'll abstain from a deeper critique.  Maybe after the game comes out I'll write something lengthier.

New Experiences

Monday was my first day off after several, and I decided I wanted to go to the movies.  I also decided to make this outing en femme.  I somehow missed out on writing about it, but I did finally get a couple of outings during the fall.  On the first I went out to attend that museum show I wrote about, but due to unforeseen circumstances, I never made it to the museum.  My second trip out was simply a low-key trek across town to pick up my meds.  I didn't have any real negative experiences, aside from the usual occasional laughter.  I can live with laughter.  It's much preferable to violence of any kind.

The weather of late has been wonky, even for Florida.  We've had cold, rainy days followed by sunny and hot.  Monday I ventured out in jeans and a sweater, and I was plenty warm, though I brought a denim jacket just in case.  I wore a pair of boots I'd picked up for just such an occasion, Merona Kamischel Lug-Sole Boots in Grey from Target.  I'd wanted to get out early, but I have motivational issues without my regular medication, and I got a late start.  I didn't make it out the door until 1600.

Vicki was nice enough to drive me up to my bus stop, and from there I caught the bus into the downtown area.  I then walked six blocks over to catch another bus which delivered me to the mall.  I arrived there around 1715, and to my dismay, the movie I'd come to see, David Fincher's The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo didn't start until 1845.  I had about an hour and a half to kill, and I had a little spending money with me, so I decided to shop a bit.  Tallahassee Mall has been on a downward trend for years, and there are far more empty storefronts there than open stores, but they have Burlington Coat Factory, Barnes & Noble, and a Victoria's Secret.  That last store was having their Semi-Annual Sale, featuring panties for $2.99 and bras for $15.99.  I bought one of each.  That was one of my new experiences.  I've shopped at VS before, but only bought something for one of my nieces.  I seem to remember writing about a previous trip there when I lived in Virginia.  I don't remember being treated very well, and I remember being put off because the salesperson wanted me to buy a poorly-fitting bra.  I didn't have that experience this time.  The salespeople I met were very welcoming.  The other customers I interacted with were nice, also.  The sale bras were "sorted" into bins by their band and cup size.  I'm wearing 38D now, and the 38D bins didn't have very many 38D bras in them, or even 38s of any size.  I guess a day of customers pawing through the bins would disorder them, and if they were as busy all day as they were when I shopped there, then maybe they didn't have time to re-sort them.

One thing I want to mention here, that I haven't gotten around to saying before, is that I've lost weight.  At my heaviest last year, I was pushing 230.  I'm down to 200.  Must be work and all that walking.  It's been nice, because some of my tops and such look a lot better, but it's also a bit of a pain, because my pants don't fit anymore.  For the last four or five years, I've been wearing size 12-14 jeans, and now they don't fit.  None of them, from any manufacturer, will stay up on my waist or hips without the addition of a belt.  I've gotten out and bought a couple of new pairs in the junior size 11.  They're a little snug, but they're comfortable all the same.  I'm still large on top, but I've lost a couple of inches in my chest, hence the 38 bras.

After VS, I hiked to the other end of the mall to Barnes & Noble.  I really didn't want to buy any books, but looking at them can eat up a lot of time, and it did.  I also got hit on.  There was this really persistent gentleman wandering the scifi stacks, and he really wanted to chat me up.  I suppose I should be flattered, because he either didn't "read" me, or he didn't care.  He said he thought I was hot, and he wanted to get to know me better, but it was getting late, and my movie was starting soon, and he made me nervous, so I apologized and told him I wasn't interested, and beat feet for the theater.

The Girl with The Dragon Tattoo was one of the best book adaptations I've seen in a long time.  Fincher made a couple of changes from the novel, but I don't think they detracted from the story at all, and I think they might help if he's successful in making the rest of the Millennium trilogy.  I think Noomi Rapace was the best feature of the original Swedish productions, but Rooney Mara IS Lisbeth Salander.  She totally owned the character, from the "Fuck you!" street persona to the underlying vulnerability and all the nuances in between.  I love the horn earrings she wore in the movie, and I was much dismayed to learn that H&M sold out of them (as well as every stitch of the clothing line).

The movie didn't let out until 2130, and that posed a problem for me getting home.  The last bus toward home ran past the mall at 2145, and it took me longer than that to walk around to the front side of the mall where the bus stop is.  I messaged Vicki to see if I could get a ride.  She was tied up across town waiting for her husband to get off from work, so I walked up the road to the nearby Whataburger to wait.  It wasn't my first choice for either food or a place to wait, but there aren't many stores or restaurants in that neighborhood that are open late, so that's where I went.  I ordered a combo and sat down to eat and wait.  After the meal, I got bored, and decided to start walking.  I messaged Vicki to let her know I was moving on, and that I'd try to get closer to home so it'd be easier for them to pick me up.  That was the beginning of my next new experience.

I've been out walking a lot, but I haven't done much of it at night, and I haven't been out dressed as a woman.  This could have been my undoing.  I'd barely traveled half a mile from the Mall when a car rolled up beside me and the driver asked me "How much?"  I told him I wasn't a prostitute and kept walking.  A mile or so down the road, another driver pulled into an adjacent parking lot and flashed his lights at me.  BLINK BLINK.  I started to feel like I was in a bad movie.  I kept walking.  That wasn't the last time.  I was propositioned twice more, by one more driver and a pedestrian.

I couldn't figure why I was getting so much attention.  I wasn't dressed provocatively.  My makeup was understated daytime stuff.  I wasn't even walking sexily or anything.  Then I remembered all the casually-dressed prostitutes I've seen in my travels, all the solitary women I'd seen by the road in different places who turned out to be "working",  I was afraid that I was going to attract attention from the police, and I didn't want that, either.  I took the hint and got off the street.

The next block hosts a 24-hour CVS drug store.  I ate up a lot of time in there, and even purchased a few items.  Then I went out front to wait, and a few minutes later I was in the car rolling home.  I got home with just enough time to undress, clean off my makeup and nail polish before climbing into bed for a short sleep before work again.

Different Eyes, Different Vision

Here we are in a new year.  I'm going to try to write more often, and to stay on-topic.  That's as close to a New Year's resolution as you'll get from me.

I've written before about my experiments with feminine beauty enhancements.  I've gone on at length about my fingernails, culminating in last year's French manicure.  I've toed the line a few times with my eyebrows, though they don't generate the reaction they used to.  I guess waxing has become more common since I started.  Two weeks ago I decided to experiment with something a little more daring: eyelash extensions.

I thought they'd be something simple and subtle: a neat little look-enhancer that wouldn't be totally jarring with my normal day-to-day masculine appearance.  I've written here before about my mediocre experiences with mascara.  I decided to do the extensions almost on the spur of the moment.  I'd actually gone into the salon to ask about something else (leg waxing, if anyone cares) and was suffering from sticker shock over the cost.  I was determined to treat myself to something, though.  I flipped through the salon's brochure, and saw that they did eyelash extensions, and asked if they could do that instead.

Getting the extensions was certainly a new experience.  It's been a long time since I let anyone do anything that close to my eyes, and obeying the instructions to "Look that way" while the stylist leaned into my eye with a gigantic pair of tweezers was tough.  I survived, though.  The lashes I got were the shortest they offer, and they're still dramatically thicker than my natural lashes.  They were annoying at first, as I had trouble adjusting to the extra weight on my eyelids.  I probably unwitting batted them at lots of people at first, without meaning to.  I've grown used to them, though.  I like the look, but I'm not sure I want to pony up $25 every three weeks to maintain them.

Did anyone notice them?  They certainly did.  At least the women did.  The compliments have fairly streamed in, from ladies who thought they were my natural lashes to more observant people who wanted to know where I'd got them done.  From gentlemen, nothing.  I don't know if men are just less observant, or more circumspect.  I doubt it's the latter, though.  Men have always been quick to point out my manicures, and usually in a derogatory manner.  Maybe they don't want to admit to looking that close.

Tomorrow night's another Skeptics in the Pub event, and I managed to get the night off.  I am dressing up this time, so I'll get the full effect of how the lashes look with makeup.  I'll let you know how things go.