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.

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.

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.

Fashion Faux Pas on Airline Flights

What Will Get You Kicked Off US Airways? Saggy pants or underpants?

I'm a big fan of letting people dress however they choose... within reason.  I'm not sure what to say here.

That Wasn't So Hard

My last post was a lot of "Pity poor me". I'm not very good at it. I guess it was a way of psyching myself up to do what I wanted. After ten long months in drab, I'm back in my favorite form of dress. Truthfully it's not too different from the things I wear all the time. I'm wearing a sweater with a pair of jeans. Underneath I'm wearing a bra with my forms. Up top I've got a wig and full makeup on, and I've swapped out my studs for a pair of cute hoops. I snapped some photos, and the best looking of the bunch is now my profile pic.

I thought about taking a walk down to the corner store, but I looked at myself in the mirror, and I think I'll pass. I've put on a few pounds since the last time I ventured out, and I'm not sure I want to face the public in daylight in all my "glory". I tried revising my outfit, but it's a bit warmer than it was when I started today, and I don't have much that would camouflage my middle and still leave me comfortable in the outdoors. Note to self: invest in a decent waist cincher, and investigate weight loss. Either that or I start buying fat clothes. No muumuus or caftans for me, though.

Now that I think about it, I like the old profile pic better. I was a little thinner, and more at peace with myself and the world. I would change it back, but this is more honest. It's who I am at the moment, and I've got to make peace with that.

Afraid to Look at Myself

I've taken up a lot of space on this blog this year writing about not dressing up, and my ongoing struggle to cope. I'd like to think of myself as a low-maintenance woman, but the reality is that getting dressed up is a big deal. I've got to shave, not just my face but any expanse of flesh that might be exposed to the world. Then comes makeup. I don't quite have to trowel it on, but covering my beard is a chore and a half. If and when I ever get rid of it for good, I'll wear the lightest possible foundation. Until that day, I'm stuck on Dermablend and Max Factor PanStick.

For the last couple of weeks I've been meaning to get dressed up for a bit. I haven't been planning to go anywhere. I just want to wear makeup, because I haven't in so long. Not only that; I'd like to update my profile pics, both here and over on Facebook. A couple of weekends ago I took part in that awareness of child abuse thing, and replaced my FB profile pic (taken two years ago) with a thumbnail shot of Calvin and Hobbes. I meant to replace it the following week with a new photo of me, but I just couldn't motivate myself to gussy myself up. I've planned to do it three or four times since - during my mornings after work, when I'm still relatively clean-shaven, or on my nights off, but the energy just hasn't been there.

Back when I still thought of myself as a crossdresser, I didn't worry too much about why, but I thought a lot about what to tell people about myself when their questions arose. And arise they did. It took me a while to compose an answer that made sense both to myself and others. "life is hard," I said. All around us are people who can't cope, so they drink, or use drugs, or engage in all sorts of self-destructive behavior. They hurt themselves, and sometimes others. If putting on makeup and women's clothing is the worst I have to do to be able to look at myself in a mirror, then is that so bad? I didn't think so. I still don't think so, but I've become afraid.

I've had the house pretty much to myself since last week. I'm waiting for the go-ahead to move into my new place, but I haven't been able to get in touch with the owners. You'd think I'd feel free in a place by myself, but I find myself falling into myself. I got used to communal living, with friends and family close at hand, and now I have long, solitary hours with no companionship save a mismatched pair of cats. Cats are cuddly, but they're poor conversationalists.

When I finally work up the nerve, who will I see in that mirror?

Scary Monsters

The photo to the left is one I ganked off of yesterday's Go Fug Yourself. The three people in it are, left to right: Madonna's daughter Lourdes, Taylor Momsen (who is apparently an actress or something) and Madonna.

The first thing that grabbed me was Momsen's eye makeup. Holy hell! That girl's wearing more eyeliner than I have in my whole life. Then I got a look at Lourdes's outfit.

Let's see, she's wearing a leather jacket (with the sleeves pulled up) over an unbuttoned flannel shirt, over a tunic, with ripped(!) tights and either heavy socks or leg warmers(?!) tucked into ugly boots.

Madonna, on the other hand, looks almost normal. The platforms on her shoes almost look like hooves.

There's enough Nightmare Fuel in this photo to last for weeks.

Taylor Momsen's boots are pretty cool, though.

I really need to get some shopping in.

Was It Something I Said?

Sometime during the last week I lost a follower. I don't know who it was. Most of my admittedly small coterie never comment on anything I write here, so I don't know most of them. I guess I haven't done enough to get to know my audience.

My last few posts have, admittedly, had little or nothing to do with being trans. I apologize if my writing doesn't interest anyone, but there's a lot going on, and my transition isn't, so please, bear with me.

On a more positive note, I broke down and treated myself to a little shopping. During a break at work last night, I popped online and bought this:

http://www.alittletouchofmagick.com/product_info.php?products_id=3413

I've been looking at their posts on Facebook the last couple of months, and I like their stuff. This item appeared on Friday, and I got myself through the weekend by thinking about how I could snap it up after I was paid again. Maybe I'll get to wear it out sometime.

Jeggings?

I haven't really been out shopping for clothes since October, but I still try to keep an eye out for what's in fashion, for the time when I can get out again. This morning my inbox was full of sales fliers for various shops, and they were all hawking the latest wonder, a garment called "jeggings". Depending on which description one prefers, these are either leggings that are fashioned to resemble jeans, or jeans which have been made out of lycra-blend material like leggings. I like leggings, and I love jeans (the tighter the better!), but I wonder if these new things aren't like a rock star get-up from the Eighties. All of the layouts I've seen them in pair them with tunics or long coats and high heels, both of which I already like, and the combination emphasizes my legs, which are still one of my best features.

Via my email, I see these are available at Dots (not around here) and Torrid (not here either), but also available through Newport News. I came downstairs just before leaving for work, and my niece was wearing a pair. She raved about them, and said I should go for it, but she's sixteen, and what's cool for kids like her may not fly on a thirtysomething like me.

Another thing that bugs me is the name. I'm not unused to contractions and combined words, but the rough compression of the "j" sound up against those hard "g's" sticks in my mouth. It does not roll trippingly off the tongue. That's just a minor nitpick, though.

Dare I to try them?

Dog Days

This is my obligatory post to let everyone know I'm still kicking. I try to only write when I have something to say, but after some of the last posts, I feel compelled to keep people abreast of my ongoing struggle. The urges to play in traffic or test the sharpness of various objects is much-diminished, but I hesitate to say that I'm happy just yet.

It's funny. A couple of weeks ago, I discovered a new song (new to me, anyway). The song is called "Dog Days Are Over", and it's by a little British art rock outfit called Florence and the Machine. I first heard it in promos for the USA series "Covert Affairs", and it's since popped up in the trailers for "Eat, Pray, Love". I first heard a snippet in a promo, then I watched the video on YouTube, and a few minutes later downloaded the song from Amazon. It's catchy, and the video is energetically exuberant, with wild costumes and eye-popping colors (as far as those costumes go, I think Florence could give Lady Gaga a run for her money). I wish I knew a way to carry that happiness around with me, without listening to the song all the time.

It's now been six months and a couple of weeks since the last time I went out of doors en femme. That's the longest I've been since I came out again in 2005. I don't define myself as a crossdresser, so I it's not like I need to dress up like a woman all the time, but not presenting myself in public the way I prefer is wearing on me I know, I know; technically I'm crossdressing all the time, not owning more than a stitch or two of male clothing, but not wearing makeup, or hair, or some of my pretty tops and shoes is killing me. I need to find a place and time to get out as myself, or as my perception of myself, and I'd rather it not be the dance bar full of college students that Ms. Self-Medicating told me about. I've checked out their photos on Facebook, and that is SO not my scene.

No Day at the Beach

Tomorrow after the rest of the family get back from church, we're going to the beach. For all the time I was living in Virginia, I never got around to the beach. Once, on a trip up from Charlotte, I drove out to the shore, shucked my shoes and ran down into the surf shouting, "Thalassa! Thalassa! at the top of my lungs, but that was almost seven years ago. I haven't been on a traditional beach outing since sometime in the early 90s. Why is complicated.

Going to the beach brings out all of my insecurities regarding my self image. As a man, I'm not in the greatest shape. I'm doughy around the middle, but I don't look like a beached whale or anything. The problem is, I just don't like to be seen that way. I know that I am no bathing beauty, and this body of mine has no place on the beach in a woman's swimsuit, but I just can't see going into the water in anything else. One of my housemates offered to get me a swimsuit, but I told her I wasn't going into the water. Part of me wants to, to have fun with my nephews, but I can't do it.

Should I even go?

Fug My Guest

Of all the nights to not bring a camera!

I've already spoken of all the sights I didn't get to photograph while I was gallivanting about Eastern Virginia, but nothing could have prepared me for the young lady who checked in a while ago.

She was wearing a pale pink minidress, slit down to there, and matching peeptoe slingbacks with four- or five-inch heels. Her manicure and pedicure were bright, almost neon green. Her jewelry was a mix of coordinated pink and green, with the exception of a large, hematite-finished necklace that clanked like a cowbell. The crowning touch to it all was her glittery PINK eyeshadow.

I wish I had brought my camera.

Due to some sort of technical hooha, this post appears prior to the post which refers to it.

Shoes!

It looks kind of haphazard, but I uploaded some photos to my Photobucket account, and up popped this app for posting a slideshow of them to my blog, et voila!

I tried to set up the photos in some sort of order. The first shows my flip-flops, then my flats and sneakers, pumps, other heels, and last my boots. The sad part is, once I put everything away, I realized that I left out a few pairs. Frak!

Yes, I am shoe queen. Every pair in these photos has been out of doors at least once, but some of them haven't been out since. When you have as many shoes as I have, and you're not living full-time femme, it's hard to wear more than a few of them multiple times. I live in flip-flops, so those have gotten the most usage, followed by my Skechers. I left out the shoes I wear for work, because they're the most masculine-looking shoes I own, and who wants to look at that stuff?

If I get to proceed with my on-the-job transition, that may change. Time will tell.

Edit: Since I posted this, I read the results of a little poll from the cover of USA Today. The question was "Who owns more shoes?", and it listed the averages for Americans. For the men: 7 pairs. For the women: 15 pairs. Hah! I got 'em both beat.

Shopping, or a Lack Thereof

Have I ever mentioned how much I love to shop? It's true. It's one of the most girly things about me. Even a simple trip to WalMart to buy toilet paper can be complicated by a compulsion to wander through nearly every department to look at stuff.

I'm hurting. I've lamented here often about not having the money to get my usual manicure/pedicure, but it's more than that. Since Nate lost his job, I haven't had hardly any disposable income. Since I moved here from Charlotte, I've gotten accustomed (reluctantly) to having less money. I used to buy my clothes at Torrid and Lane Bryant. Last year I started shopping at Cato and Ross. Lately I've been looking at the emails from a place called Dots, which has lots of cool stuff, at prices similar to Cato. I haven't been able to go. I'd be happy with a few bucks to spend at the CHKD thrift or somewhere similar. I'm not too greedy.

Nate says he got an email from the tax service. They're supposedly going to call him back to work any day now. The call cannot come too soon.

Unable to Be Myself

I haven't been out en femme since the Eye of the Beholder show May 15th. The last couple of times I've been off, I've hoped to get a little "me time" out of doors, but it just hasn't happened. I'm closing in on the end of another nine-day stretch at work, and I'm going to be off this Saturday and Sunday, so I'm really looking forward to the weekend. I'm already planning to attend an event with the Gender Expression Movement (formerly known as New Life Transgender Outreach) Sunday, and I'm waiting with bated breath.

To exacerbate the situation, one of my coworkers has been peppering me with questions about being trans. Since my "coming out", she's been doing a little research, trying to understand what I'm going through. It's nice to be able to talk about stuff openly, but I wish I could work dressed the way I prefer.

The female version of the uniform isn't all that different from the male. There's a scarf instead of a necktie (and the scarf is optional). The striped blouse is prettier than the male equivalent. Other than that, it's just a shirt and pants. I'd be able to wear a little makeup (okay, a lot), though, and prettier earrings. And yes, I'd wear much less sensible shoes.

I used to frustrate the members of my support group in Charlotte. Almost without fail, they'd show up to our Saturday meetings in dresses or dressy skirt outfits. Most of the time, I wore jeans with a seasonally-appropriate top. I dressed for the weather and the time of day. I dressed mostly to draw less attention to myself. A woman of any sort draws attention to herself if she steps out on a Saturday afternoon in a skirt. People wonder who she is, and where she's going. I save my dresses for special occasions. I like to think that my dressing is more like that of a GG. I like skirts, but most of the time, you'll find me in jeans. That's just me.

One other tidbit that's stoked my sense of frustration is the reappearance of Jen, the transwoman who visited the hotel back in April. She's back in the States on government business, and has her evenings free for fun and games. As I arrived at work tonight, she was returning from dinner out with a friend. She came back down to the desk to visit with me a bit. She's seeing a doctor now, and seems a lot more comfortable in her skin than when I saw her last. She had some new clothes she wanted to show me, including some jean shorts that were really SHORT. She wore them with fishnets and a leopard-print top. She went on to tell me that her therapist told her that transwomen go through stages similar to a GG's growing up. She's in her teenager phase. I told her I could tell. We laughed.

It looks like I might have a little extra money to spend on myself this week, after I pay some bills. I haven't decided, but I'm either going to get my nails done at the salon, or buy myself some new hair. It's been two months since my last manicure/pedicure, and my eyebrows are positively bushy. My favorite wig is looking a little ragged, and no shampooing will restore it to its former glory. What do you all think?

Attack of the Millipedes!

I was going to write something about my frustration at my inability to get out and about en femme, but I lost almost the entire train of thought when I spotted a millipede crawling out from under the desk. Then another, and another. And...

For those who don't know them, millipedes are little multi-legged creepy crawlies distantly related to centipedes. Gods, that sounded really technical, didn't it? I first spotted the little guys about a month ago. They're harmless, and only grow to be an inch or two long, but they're brown or black, and have dozens of legs, and wavy antennae, and this IS a hotel. I had a guest get all postal with me the other morning because he saw *GASP* a moth. I don't personally have problem with the little buggers. They're actually kinda cute, in a geeky way. But I can just see some guest going completely batshit crazy from seeing one in their bathroom, or on their bed.

Anyway, enough about work. I'll come back to this when my thoughts are a little more collected.

Incidentally, this is my 100th post to this blog.

Dressing Up: A Rant

People who know me know that I live in jeans and tee shirts. Those are my comfort clothes, and I have never grown out of them. That said, I do like to dress up. Sometimes I do it for special occasions. Other times, as this past Saturday, I do it just because I can. Maybe it's because of my own predilection for fancy dress, but I find that I am prejudiced against people who refuse to dress up when the social occasion calls for it.

In the past, when I would go out with a woman, we would only very rarely do anything that required fancy dress. We'd eat at casual restaurants, or go out to assorted nightclubs. The dress code (if indeed there was one) was casual. I'd usually wear jeans, but I always wore a button-down shirt. ALWAYS. I'm a big one for trying to coordinate outfits. A couple need not dress exactly alike, but they should at least dress complimentary to one another.

Working a hotel on the weekends, I see all kinds of people coming from bars or clubs late at night. It never ceases to amaze me how some "gentlemen" dress to go out of doors. All the time, I see women dressed to the nines: dress, heels, bling, and scent of some sort. Invariably, their male companions are wearing jeans and tee shirts. It kills me inside. Just this morning I checked in a couple who were coming from a Sunday night out. She was wearing club wear: a tight vest over a tight tank with "formal shorts". Naturally she was wearing pointy-toed pumps with stiletto heels, and she had rings on every finger, multiple ear piercings and bangles on both wrists. Her friend wore baggy jeans with a tee and a ball cap. *Sigh.* I wanted to say something, but I bit my tongue.

Writing to Write

Last night was my first time at an NLTO function since the March meeting. I had to work last night and tonight, but I wasn't going to let that stop me from coming. That's a long time to go without seeing one's brothers and sisters. We're always connected over the web, but it's nice to see people up close and personal too.



The last few meetings I've dressed casual - jeans and a top. When I came to the March meeting, I wore flip flops. That's cool, because the meetings are casual, but I like to dress up sometimes, and I haven't been out en femme in almost two months. So I wore a dress. Specifically, I wore a black, sleeveless cotton shirtdress. It's got little star-shaped buttons down the front. I wore black patent peep-toe slingbacks, because I was dressing up. They've got, 4.5" heels, but they're actually comfortable to walk in. I wouldn't want to run around in them for extended periods, but I haven't had a chance to wear them out, so I did.

Getting dressed was an adventure. I had originally planned to wear a different dress, but that didn't work out with the bra I had, so I had to make a change. I had time getting into the black dress. It's always been snug, because that's how it's cut, but when I bought it two years ago, I was wearing smaller breast forms. It took me some creative maneuvering to get the dress buttoned over my newer, larger forms. When all was said and done, I looked stacked.

I haven't worn makeup a lot lately, but I didn't have any trouble putting my face together until I was nearly finished. I was putting a second coat of mascara on my right eye when I twitched. My lashes on that side ended up in a clump over the center of my eye. I wiped all the makeup off that eye and started over. Around that time, the Kentucky Derby had started, and I wasted precious time looking at a horse race for the first time in years.


Once I was dressed and made up, I scrambled to get everything together. In addition to my usual purse-load, I had to pack a change of clothes for work, which I headed to directly from the meeting. I packed all of the essentials, but in my haste omitted a few accessories, like a pair of studs to replace the hoop earrings I was wearing out. My boss is pretty open-minded, but somehow I can't see her approving of me wearing those at work.

I am embarrassed to say that I don't remember any of the group business from the meeting. I can tell you how many were there (thirteen, including one new girl I hadn't met before, Shawna, plus the dog De is sitting). After the serious discussion was done, I chatted with Julian and Rebecca about movies. My geek streak was showing, but I don't care. I left out around 2145 so I could get on to work.

I was a little nervous about coming to the job en femme. It wasn't the first time I'd done it, but it's been a while, and I wasn't sure how the associate I was relieving would take me. I came in while he was assisting a guest, and he recognized me immediately, but didn't bat so much as an eyelash about my appearance. I immediately adjourned to the employee break room and set about returning my appearance to some semblance of masculinity. Practice does make perfect, as I was (reluctantly) back in my male guise in about fifteen minutes. *Sigh.*

March NLTO Recap

I forgot to mention that Saturday was this month's NLTO meeting. There were a few more people there this month, which is a good thing. My friend Debbie (who has appeared here before) brought another lady named Debbie. We met Sharon, who is getting out of the Navy this year. My friend Kathy brought her genderqueer friend Ashley. We spent the first part of the meeting getting to know each other.

LLLLL did a presentation about this year's Camp Trans; it sounds like a lot of fun, but I'm a city girl at heart. I'm too high-maintenance to rough it in the middle of nowhere (Michigan) in June. We talked about this month's Movie Night. It's the last that'll be at Ericka and Linda's; alas, they're moving to Alexandria. Anyway, this month's selection is Yentl, with Barbra Streisand and Mandy Patinkin. I haven't seen that since I was in grade school (it was on HBO), so it'll be almost like seeing it for the first time.

We had another clothing swap. There was more to choose from, and I actually found a few nice pieces. I got a (tight) pair of jeans and a denim mini that used to be Michelle Marie's, and a few tops that were Debbie's. One of the tops is leopard print (!) and I'll need to wear my smaller forms ('cause it's a little revealing). All that didn't go home with someone will be donated to the CHKD thrift store.

Before we broke up for the night, we broke up into little groups and chatted about stuff: blogs, Battlestar Galactica, physics, politics, etc, ad nauseam.

I got home a little later than usual. I didn't have dinner before the meeting, and as good as Giles' cookies are, I needed something more substantial. Nate rolled in from work a little after I got in, and he hadn't eaten either, so I ended up ordering in Domino's. If you're looking for a recommendation, the Memphis BBQ Chicken pizza is awesome! The delivery driver hardly batted an eye when I answered the door en femme.

I stayed up to watch a little TV: CSI Miami reruns on A&E, then Ghost in the Shell: Standalone Complex (my fave anime) on Adult Swim. There's a whole discourse I could write about being trans and relating to the themes on this show (and especially the music), but that'll wait for another post.

A New Place To Shop!

I read this on the New York Magazine site, and found it elsewhere for confirmation. Forever 21 is opening a plus-sized line in May:

http://stylistic.clutchmagonline.com/2009/03/forever-21-launching-plus-size-line-faith-21/

A friend of mine (of smaller stature) is always raving about Forever 21. She's always saying things like, "You'd look good in that," or "You should buy those!" I appreciate her input, but until now, they haven't made things in my sizes. It's a little thing, really, but I need the positive energy right now.