Goin Down the Road Feeling Great

Yeah, another mangled song title.

I had an uneventful drive from the mall to the hotel.  I was considering stopping for dinner on the way.  I had marked a couple of Chinese restaurants near the hotel.  I eat lighter at Chinese or Thai than I do at an Italian or American restaurant so that was my first choice.

There was a little problem.

At the end of my makeover, I could see little chin hairs pushing through.  That kind of shook my confidence.  I thought about it while driving and figured it's only going to get worse over that hour behind the wheel.  So I didn't sit down to eat.

I wasn't sure where the restaurants were exactly, although I had written down some addresses.  As I approached the hotel, I saw a strip mall and figured there had to be a takeaway place there.

Sure enough, there was one of the Chinese restaurants on my list.  I placed my to-go order and was told it would take about ten minutes.  I stepped outside but felt foolish just standing there in my dress and heels so I went back inside, sat on the bench near the cashier, crossed my legs and picked up an In Style magazine.  I skimmed that, admired some outfits and makeup, and picked up another women's magazine and started looking at some of the (mostly visual) articles.

I felt very at ease.  In hindsight, I should have picked up a magazine and sat at a table and eaten there.  It wouldn't have taken long, and I'd probably look no worse when I was done, but I don't think clearly when I'm dressed; I have too much on my mind.  But sitting and reading and waiting felt very natural.

My food arrived and I made the short drive to the hotel to check in.

There were two men in front of me so I waited patiently with my bag of dinner and suitcase.  I left my computer in the trunk; I figured it would be safe for a while.

I checked in, and the clerk had no comments nor odd looks as I did so.

That, by the way, is the norm ~ no-one has ever said anything untoward to me; I haven't caught anyone doing a take or giving another odd look when I talk to them.  I can't believe I've always found people who are amazingly tolerant or I've fooled everyone, so it has to be that the average person is fine with who I am.

This is important, for anyone thinking of going out.  People don't care.  I'll give an even better example in a follow-up in a couple of days.

I went up to my room and opened the bag.  I had an eggroll and realised that there was no utensils.  I had kicked off my shoes but nothing else.  I considered changing and going down, but my food would get cold.  So I put my shoes back on, grabbed my purse (can't forget that!) and room key and went back to the desk.

No-one was at the desk; the clerk was looking at something on the counter.  I said "excuse me?" and he said "yes, maam?  Can I help you?"  That's always nice to hear, especially if it's not a first impression situation.

Showing off my new look and manicure

I told him my situation and he said "can I get you a plate as well?"  I said "that would be fantastic" ~ I was expecting to eat out of the little containers.  He came back a couple of minutes later with a takeaway tray that could serve as a plate and a plastic fork and knife and I went back to my room with another successful exchange under my belt.

After dinner, I took off my dress and wig and realised that I left my glasses in the glove compartment of the car.  I decided against getting dressed again and carefully removed my makeup.  I left my nail polish on and got dressed in my civvies and went to the car to get my computer and glasses, keeping my hands sort of hidden all the while.  I was mildly concerned ~ if I was very concerned I would have removed the polish first.  If anyone was nosy enough to notice and ask about my nails I was prepared to say "I was in drag earlier" and see what they say next.  Nothing happened.

Removing nail polish is not easy.  I get some tissues out, pour remover into the cap and soak each finger for about 30 seconds.  Then I try to get the polish off with the tissue.  Often, it takes two tries.  When I'm done, I put a q-tip into the remover in the cap and let it soak.  Then I scrub the polish out of the cuticles and edges of the nail and any stubborn spots I may have missed.  Even so, the next day I noticed I still had a bit of polish on a couple of nails.  I figured no-one would notice; no-one did.  A few days later, as the nail grew, there was some polish that was hidden in the cuticle.  I pulled out the remover and q-tip and polished off the polish.

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