Keep On Truckin'

(first, an aside: please take a look at this change.org petition and consider adding your name)

After I returned from four Meg days at the beach (here and through the end of September), Annie added a comment, asking if I would have kept going if I had the opportunity.

I wrote something to the effect that said basically "Yes!  No!  I don't know."

While at the beach, I didn't have any boy clothes, but I had a fallback.  I could chuck the wig, clean off my makeup and buy a t-shirt and shorts.  I could put on my contacts instead of my girl glasses.  I only had sandals and flip-flops and if I really had to, I could remove my finger and toenail polish.  Or I could just leave them on and ignore anyone's opinion of the guy with the unusual glasses and painted nails.

I didn't.

Every day started with a very close facial and chest shave.  After four days, I would have needed to either cover or shave arms, hands, legs, and feet.

But if I found out I could stay another day or four I would have.

I don't know what my limit is.  I don't know if it would matter if it was a Minnesota winter or Florida summer or New York spring.

I think one day (or one week or one month) I'll find out.  Right now, I'm quite happy with the four-day memories.  It wasn't too long and it wasn't too short, although I didn't want to change back when I got home.

What I learned: four days is not too long.  I may never find out what is.

---

Can't Find My Way Home

(That's the last Steve Winwood reference.  I promise.)

We had a nice breakfast the previous day at the pancake house and decided to go back.  There are two branches of Stack 'Em High Pancakes on the island.  The one we went to the previous day was about a mile south of the hotel; the other a few miles north.  We were planning to head north to explore Duck and maybe some other towns on the other side of the bridge so we went to get breakfast at the joint to the south.

I wanted to revisit it.  One of my "passing" tests is if I'm remembered.  If someone thinks "older woman customer" they're not going to remember me.  If someone thinks "guy in drag" they probably will, just because of the novelty.  But there's another issue now, which I'll get to shortly.

I wanted to see if the woman behind the register remembered me.  I wanted to see if "Czechoslovakia" would remember me.

Travel Meg.  NOT a "travel mug"

So, of course, when we entered the "greeter" was a guy who definitely wasn't there yesterday.  The cashier also was a guy.  I said "you weren't behind the register yesterday, were you" and he said "my wife and I own the restaurant and we switch off."

We had a different waitress as well, even though we sat in the same small area.  There was also a different coffee bringer; instead of the guy calling us "beautiful ladies" a woman asked if "you girls would like some more coffee" which was different and pleasant.

(by the way, I don't remember where but I do remember hearing a "sweetie" and a "honey" reference to Meg during the trip.)

Either the husband told his wife someone asked about her or she was just making the rounds but she showed up shortly after to say hi.  I asked about the waitress from yesterday, the Czech girl and she said she was off today.  I said "I was going to just ask 'where is Czechoslovakia?' but you'd probably say 'Eastern Europe?'" which earned me a laugh.

She didn't say anything like "nice to see you again" or "you came back" or anything implying she'd

Breakfast (Tuesday)

seen us before.

At the end of breakfast, I did go up to the register (she was behind the register again) and said "I'm just curious ~ do you remember me?" and she said "yes.  You asked for the special... no, the usual." and she laughed.

So there's my problem now.  People remember my male self because I joke with them.  Did she remember me because of my stupid comment or...?

We drove up to Duck and stopped at a couple of shopping centres there.  We stopped and shopped and headed back north around noon.

One surprise before leaving: we stopped in a small self-serve shoe shop.  I said "we can look for shoes for you but these kinds of shops never have shoes in my size.

Well, never is a bad word.  There were many pairs of 11s, although none were wide.

Meg's ice cream and rainbow sprinkle fix (Tuesday)

And, surprisingly, I didn't see any shoes that both looked wide enough and I was in love with.

One more shoe store note....  At the checkout there was a little tank with a snail in it.  A sign identified it as "Alex."  I asked if it was a boy snail, since they gave it a boy's name.  The woman behind the counter said she didn't know if it was a boy or girl.  I suggested letting the snail out and see which kind of shoes it heads for.  If it goes for the stilletoes, it's a girl.

Again, I'm getting more comfortable making "gender" jokes and seeing if anyone picks up on it.  So far, no-one's said a thing.  I'm going to pretend that's because I pass so well that they don't think I'm anything but a ciswoman.

We took the bridge away from the island and went north through Norfolk and Virginia Beach and other southeastern Virginia cities.

Heading from the Williamsburg area towards Richmond we decided it was lunch time and stopped at a Bojangles.

Northern Virginians say that the Mason-Dixon line isn't at the Potomac River, it's at the Occoquan River.  South of that landmark you hear southern accents, and it can be like a different world sometimes.

We made good time.  Traffic was light.  (DAM!  I said "no more Winwood references")

Meg in rural southeastern VA?  Not a problem.

Meg for four days?  Not a problem either, although if I wanted to go for five I'd be doing some serious shaving first.

Maybe next trip I'll try a two-piece bathing suit.

Inlets and Outlets, Part II ~ Inlets

Shana Tovah to the members of the tribe out there!

After scoring the pottery, we headed back over the bridge to the Outer Banks proper.  We headed south instead of north, to stop at the Oregon Inlet.  We kind of overshot it and drove down the island a bit, then turned around and parked near the marina on the inlet.  We walked around, looking at boats and enjoying the sunshine.

By now, lunch was definitely overdue and dinnertime was approaching fast.

Charity and I both enjoy games and I knew there was a game/toy shop on the way back.  We stopped and looked around.  It seemed to be mostly kid stuff but there were some games for non-kids in a rear corner.  The store was pretty empty but we talked games with the guy behind the counter and picked up a couple because, somehow, we neglected to bring a game or two on the trip.  And new games are always welcome anyway.

Before we left, we asked about places to eat.  He suggested a couple that were along the beach, on the way back to the room.  We stopped and skipped the first one he suggested, but stopped and dined at the second, The Red Drum Grille and Taphouse.

It was quite crowded, but I'm getting used to crowds.  I people-watch; in return, they ignore me.

I did what's becoming normal: chatting and joking with the waitress, and basically being a normal restaurant patron.  And, again, I was treated as such.

Being a short, straight drive to the hotel, I had a mixed drink.  Being a restaurant on the beach, I had the fish and chips.  Both were good.

We returned to the hotel after dark and played one of the new games in the room instead of taking a walk on the beach.  And it was a good night to get to bed early.  Tomorrow would be the long drive back to Annandale.

---

Forever Afternoon (Tuesday?)

The outlet mall was south of the hotel and we decided to head back to Manteo on Roanoke Island.  I did want to see that maritime museum and explore the island a bit more.  There are a lot of attractions packed into that little island.  There are Elizabethan Gardens, a show about "The Lost Colony," The sailing ship Elizabeth II, an aquarium, and more.

We wandered the town of Manteo again.  This time, we knew where it was (Monday we wandered) and we parked near downtown and explored, starting with the maritime museum.

If you have a chance to go to Manteo and have to skip something definitely make it the maritime museum.  It was not worth the shoe leather walking to the front door.

Monday, we ate lunch and then saw a very appealing ice cream place.  But lunch was very filling and we passed.

Today, we had a big breakfast and stopped for ice cream.  In addition to having access to non-chain ice cream, it was quite hot out, hotter than expected.

I continued my usual behaviour and kidded around with the girl behind the counter.  I say usual, but, again, this is new Meg behaviour and I wonder if it's appropriate in a female.  On the other hand, I'm being myself as Meg; I can be myself with respect to acting in a way that might be less female-appropriate.  And again, I'm not sure.

This is where we ordered ice cream and as she was preparing mine I leaned close and said "I think I need rainbow sprinkles."  She giggled.  I didn't think until later that the rainbow is associated with gay, and most civilians probably associate trans with gay.  I won't even speculate whether she was laughing because of that connection or because I said I need sprinkles.

I just like rainbow sprinkles.

We wandered into several shops, mostly clothing shops, mostly niche and pricey.  We also walked

through an artsy little shop where the owner made assorted pottery.  Charity decided she loved one of them but it wasn't quite ready yet.  She made a tentative purchase and we figured if we stayed long enough on the island we'd return and pick it up.  If not....

We went to the aquarium next.

It is a surprisingly nice aquarium.  There are a lot of local sea life and an assortment of very large and healthy sea turtles.  Signage could have been better.  I often didn't know what I was looking at.  They also do sea turtle rescue and care there and had a nice hands-on exhibit to demonstrate what they do.

Shark Fight!

There were also hands-on live exhibits.  You could touch a variety of invertebrates and even a sting ray (the stingers were removed).

At one point there was a green screen and we could get our picture taken.  They would then sell it back to us with a background of some sort and that didn't interest either of us.  We told the guy that we really didn't need our picture and he directed us through a different door than the people who had the photo.  I questioned that and he said "trust me!"  I said "should I?" and he said "trust me!  Go that way!"

That way was the sea turtle rescue area which I really enjoyed ~ it was very well done.

After we went back in, I sought out the guy and said "I should have trusted you."  He looked like he had never seen me before and I reminded him of our conversation and he laughed and said "see?"

So it was pretty cool that I didn't stand out to this worker!  Every event like that makes me more confident.

Meg, being bold!

One surprise: there was a shark tank with a few large specimens ~ over five feet long, I'd guess.  While they were swimming one started to nudge another.  They looked to be identical, and pretty large.  The next time they swam past, one had the other's pectoral fin entirely in the other's mouth.

Divers magically appeared, and the sharks were contained behind some large rocks in the tank so we couldn't see what happened.  I tried to get some pictures but the water was murky and it was too dark for a good shot.

For no discernible reason, they had several animatronic dinosaurs on the premises.  We took a look,
but it was a bit puzzling.

By now, it was getting later, we were getting hungrier, and the pottery was getting readier.  We headed back to Manteo and the pottery was ready.  We left Roanoke Island for the last time.

---

Ruby Tuesday, Me Mateys!

2005 Meg!

HAPPY TALK LIKE A PIRATE DAY!  I was goin' t' run th' whole post through a translator but, lucky fer y'all, I decided agin it.
 
I remember when I first went out dressed with my makeup lady (ten years ago!).  She wanted to stop for cigarettes at a 7-11 just down the street from my house.  When we stopped, I went into the store with her, which surprised her.  She thought I'd be leery of stepping out so close to home.

As we drove on, she asked me to try to use my best girl voice.  I declined.  I was out wearing a dress, makeup, wig, and heels but I felt like she'd laugh at me if I tried to use my girl voice.  I even mentioned that to her, and we discussed it but my voice remained hidden.

When I went out by myself the first few times, it was to a mall.  I'd go into a shop and be greeted by the woman behind the counter and I'd mouth a response, and assume she'd think she couldn't hear me over the ubiquitous music.  I never bought anything and I'd smile in reply when she'd offer a "come again" or something similar when I was leaving.

Tuesday morning, we went to a local pancake house.  There were two "Stack 'Em High Pancakes" franchises on the island, one about a mile south of us, one about four miles north.  We wanted to head south after breakfast and also wanted the option of heading back to the hotel to freshen up so we chose the closer one.

It was quite crowded and definitely not an IHOP.

2015 (2 Sep to be exact) Meg!

We were greeted by a very loud woman when we came in, who asked if we'd ever eaten there before.  We said no and she explained that we can pick up cold drinks and some other cold items along a cafeteria-style strip and order food at the end by the register.  There we'd get a number and our food would magically appear shortly.

When we got to the register, Charity gave her order to the woman at the register and I said to her "I'll have the usual."  She said "honey, I see 700 people here every day.  I don't know what your usual is."

OK, she gets points for not saying "I think I'd remember you" or something similar.

I said "that's OK.  I've never been here before" which got a good laugh.  By the way, I do that occasionally.  Don't steal my lines!

I continued to kid around with her as we ordered and moved on  to our table with a number to inform the staff where we were sitting.

There are two rooms in this restaurant.  One is the main room which was pretty full and had the counter and such in it.  On the side was a smaller, mostly empty room.  We sat there, mostly because it was quieter.  There were windows to the outside and a pass-thru next to our table so we could see the main room.

A waiter or busboy came up behind me and said "would you beautiful ladies like some more coffee?"  To his credit, I DID have my back to him, but I can pretend, right?

I joked with the waiter, and our waitress who's name I didn't recall but I did ask her where she was from ~ she had an Eastern European accent ~ and she said Czechoslovakia.  After that, I referred to our waitress as "Check."

We chatted whenever she'd come back to the table.

This is what I normally do in drab, an activity known as "embarrassing your kids."

I decided that I'd like to come back here the next day, just to see if the waitress/woman at register remembered Meg.  Not remembering is better, but I also drew attention to myself so I kind of wanted to know.

Other diners came and went; we lingered a bit because we were going to head to an outlet mall and it was still a bit early, and we were having fun there.  No-one gave us a second look.

It was a fun and different (for Meg) start to the day and I was looking forward to the next stop.

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Just Another Manic Monday

Click for readability

On the slim strip of land known as the Outer Banks, there is a (minor) road that parallels the ocean beach, and a major road that parallels that a couple of tenths of a mile further west. 

Our hotel faced the beach on one side and the minor road on the other.  A couple of blocks south along the minor road brought us to the restaurant.  Sidewalks are iffy but traffic is light.

We got to the restaurant and it was mostly empty.  We were greeted and put at a table that seemed to be in the "no service section."  Eventually a waitress came by and apologised profusely for making us wait so long ~ there was a mess-up and no-one was assigned.  I asked her if we get our meals for free because we had to wait and she said no but we could have a free appetizer, which was fine with me.

Dinner was good, the restaurant continued to be lightly used although more people came in as we ate.  I also continued to joke with the waitress ~ for instance, I mentioned that I didn't expect this much traffic but had to point out that Traffic was all they were playing since we came in.  She asked if they should change the music; I said no, I love it.  It seems one of the staff put together a Steve Winwood mix CD and that's what they were playing.  A little Blind Faith followed Traffic, and some Winwood solo work after that.  I didn't hear any Spencer Davis but maybe that was before I arrived.  I did hear "Low Spark of High Heel Boys" which made me smile.

I also seem to be more comfortable talking with civilians these days.  I'm sure there's a reason.

The waitress also gave us a free dessert and pointed us to their gift shop (does EVERYONE on the Outer Banks have a gift shop?) and said we were there on the right day ~ there was a ten percent discount twice a year and Labour Day was one of those days.

So we went to the gift shop and chatted with the woman there and looked at the clothes, jewelry, and other items they had.  I picked up a pair of sandals and we walked back to the hotel.

It was dark out now and I was determined to get all of my makeup off before bed that night!

---

Come Monday, It'll Be All Right

The Jimmy Buffett song begins:

Headin' out to San Francisco
For the Labor Day weekend show

I just came back from San Francisco and Monday at the beach was Labor Day.  So there.

I was comfortable being out in my swimsuit.  I thought I might be self-conscious, but I was not.  I suppose, being out in a variety of clothing I'm not accustomed to over the past few years has eliminated my anxiety over being out in different attire.  I suspect, other than the "I need to shave EVEN MORE" issue, I would have been OK in a two-piece swimsuit.

click to zoom

I left my flip-flops at the hotel.  It was a short walk to the beach and I didn't see a need to wear shoes I'd just take off when I got to the water anyway.

I admit I did work hard to ensure everything was, um, in place before leaving the hotel.  I didn't want stray hairs showing even though there was a little skirt in front of the suit.  I didn't seriously overthink it....  I figured, it's late in the day and late in the season and I DID do a lot of shaving where I've never shaved before.  The beach should be quiet and if anyone wants to "girl watch" there will be much better viewing targets than me.

It wasn't really a different feeling wearing a swimsuit.  I've worn other (under)garments that covered just the areas the suit covered.  I've worn a leotard, for instance (although not out).  Panties and a camisole are not much different than a swimsuit, for covered area.  If I had any, I think I could even go with showing some cleavage.  Going out was more an "it is OK to wear this outdoors" attitude shift than anything else.  My normal dressing mode is "modest".  I see people (mostly women) walk to the curb taking out the trash or taking in the newspaper in pajamas or a nightgown or a robe.  I don't have that level of comfort.  It is difficult for me to just walk out of the apartment (to take out the trash, only a few feet from my front door) in my house slippers.  I've opened the door to bring in the newspaper wearing my nightie but that's also a comfort-zone stretch.

before going to the Port O' Call

So the difference was going out in what to my mind is underwear.  And although I would never open my door wearing just a bra and panties, as I said, I don't think I'd have a problem wearing a bikini or tankini.

I am not a swimmer, but the water was warm and we waded and splashed a bit and got wet when we didn't see the big waves coming and had another nice long walk, this time in the opposite direction from Sunday's.  The difference between yesterday and today was, I didn't care how wet I got, which was nice.  The same crowd ~ families, fishermen, other walkers ~ were there.  Same crowd, different faces.

When the sky started to get dark and we got hungry we decided to head for a restaurant just up the street called Port O' Call.  Another stretch: a swimsuit on the beach is one thing but a swimsuit "in town" required another stretch.  I wouldn't walk into a restaurant in a swimsuit but felt comfortable with a lace cover dress that was pretty short and very see-through.  And it was a couple of block walk to the restaurant.

For the record, I did put shoes on before going out to eat.

Monday, Monday

My first full day at the beach started with a lesson learned.  I did something unusual, and dressed as Meg yesterday and planned on doing the same today. 

Lesson learned: even though you don't HAVE to, take off your makeup completely.  I did a poor job on my eyes Sunday night and I had to get out the remover Monday morning AND spend extra time washing the old mascara and eyeliner off and making sure I had a good basis for that day's makeup.

A related lesson: your total prep time before going out is S+C+M+D, where S is shaving and

showering time, M is makeup time, D is dressing time, and C is time spent waiting for blood to clot, after you do a poor job at S.  Try to keep C to zero.  I had a little knobby bit just below and to the left of my nose that I hit Monday morning and it added 20 or 30 minutes to my prep time as I waited impatiently for it to resolve itself.  I didn't waste that time.  I stood there anxiously fearing that it would leave a blot that I couldn't cover with makeup, or never stop bleeding until it was time to go home.  I also took the time to get hungrier, since I didn't want to leave the room except in Meg Mode.

After I was finally ready, we went down to check out the hotel breakfast.  The breakfast room was full and the line for the waffle maker was long so we grabbed a light breakfast and sat at a table outside the room, near the registration desk.  We then headed out for our first full day in the Outer Banks.

We started with what could have easily been a walk: our hotel was less than a half-mile from the Wright Brothers Memorial.  We parked and walked to the main building.  We looked at the exhibits and caught the end of a talk.  We went outside walked over by the markers for the first day's flights.  Then I encountered my first problems of the trip.

It was hot.  And my wedges were a bit uncomfortable.

So we did not walk up to the memorial, at the top of a sand dune.

I acted as I always do, and I think everyone around us did the same.  I spoke to the information lady, the gift shop people, and others.

We were Just Tourists.

From there, we went to a shop where I felt very out-of-place.  No, not lingerie or shoes or jewelry. I'm fine with those.

It was a scrapbook store.  Charity's hobby is scrapping and she really wanted to visit this store and see what they had.  She also had a long talk with the owner.  I have less interest in scrapping than I do in football (for the record, very little).

That ordeal ended and we drove south to Roanoke Island.  I think I had been there once before, in a previous visit, perhaps just as an alternative escape route from the area.  The main bridge is backed up for hours on a typical escape day.

We had lunch at Po Richards, a sandwich place on the bay.  The lunch was good, the place was VERY crowded, the ladies' was single stall.  I asked the woman standing outside if she was waiting and she said "yes."  As opposed to, say, "which room did you mean?"

I don't like waiting outside the restroom but lines bother me a lot more than milling so I milled.

We walked along the water and took some photos, then saw a sign for shops so we headed toward the shops.  We looked at clothes in some unique shops (as opposed to the Same Old Shops you find in many tourist towns) but didn't see anything wonderful.  Prices were lower though; the post-summer discounts had begun.

I wanted to see the Manteo Maritime Museum, which was nearby but closed on Monday.  Alert: we went back on Tuesday and discovered it's not worth the entry price (free).

After we saw as much of Manteo as we wanted (it does turn out it was worth a second visit, which we did the next day) we headed back to the hotel.  It was late in the afternoon and we thought a visit to the beach was warranted.  I put on my new bathing suit and made sure everything was, um, under control.  Charity put on hers and we headed for the water.

Sunday Evening at OBX

OBX is the local abbreviation for the Outer Banks.  If you see a car with a "country" sticker (you know, the ovals with three letters) that says OBX, it ain't a country.

It was past check-in time now and we went to the hotel.  I had to show my (male) ID and credit card to the woman at the desk who greeted us warmly and explained everything we needed to know about the hotel in pretty much the same tone and words as the other woman behind the counter used on the other checker-inner to our right.  And she ignored the ID mismatch.

I asked her what was available for breakfast, and what restaurants were nearby, and we went up to our rooms.

My room, by the way, was NOT t-friendly.  Or girly-girl friendly.  The lighting was poor, the bathroom had a pedestal sink with a curved top so it was hard to keep anything on it.  The only useable surface in the bathroom was on top of the toilet tank.  Even just brushing teeth required bringing in the brush and paste, doing the task, and bringing both out again.  For a beachfront hotel, there was no place to lay wet things flat, or hang them up.  There were a couple of wooden Adirondack chairs outside the room, on the common walkway between rooms, and some people laid their wet towels there but I wouldn't want to lay a wet bathing suit there, especially one that had the addition of expensive breasts!
For dinner, we went to a crowded (and not very good) barbecue joint.  This was the type where you order and pay at a window, then sit down and wait for your food.

As I've said before, I people-watch and the only person I saw even remotely interested in us was the older woman I mentioned previously who seemed to be unhappy with the presence of someone not like her.  I don't care.  I'll outlive her.

This was Meg's first big public event of the trip and it went smoothly.

It wasn't that late, so we went for a walk on the beach.  I didn't change into my suit; I just wanted to

See?  Post mani-pedi

spend a few minutes on the sand before the sun went down.  We walked maybe a mile up the beach and back down.  We edged past fishermen and other couples or groups or families walking and playing on the sand and in the surf.

We also went to an even more crowded place to grab some frozen custard.  It was like the kind of place you'd find on the beach in many cities, although this shop was a couple of blocks off it.  There was a window where you order, and another where you pick up.  There were a few places to sit down (more benches than tables) and a long line of families and high school/college age kids.  Kids of that age make me a bit nervous but again, everything was fine and they were all more interested in themselves than an older woman in their midst.

---

"Relax Your Hand"

As I said, it was a five hour drive from Annandale to Kitty Hawk, where we were staying.  We made one stop at a gas station in Southeast Virginia.  I went inside to use the ladies', and a woman behind the counter was doing some bookkeeping.  She looked up and said "I'll be with you in a moment."  I decided that I didn't really need her full attention since I wasn't making a purchase at the moment so I said "where is the restroom?"  She pointed and said "I'm sorry.  It's over there, through that door, then second door on the left."  The first door had a sign on it reading "closed for maintenance," but it wasn't and the ladies' (yes, second door ~ even though I asked for the restroom [deliberately] she pointed me at the ladies' room) was a single-stall affair, functional but filthy and previously inhabited by a hoverer.  I took advantage of my privileged status and privacy level and stood but cleaned the seat for the next victim anyway.

sandy, yes, but they STILL look good, 10 days later!

Our next stop was on the Outer Banks.  It was getting late for Sunday shops, so we went to a nail salon that had good reviews on Yelp AND was open on Sunday.  It wasn't there; a different salon was, and it was closed.  We hunted for another salon and found it a couple of miles up the beach, open and available.

Before entering, I swapped out my wedges for my new flip-flops.

When we went in, there were a couple of men and one woman visible, clearly employees.  I said to Charity "I'd rather not have a male technician" and she said "you may not have a choice."

For my first or second manicure, a male technician came over to do my nails.  I was dressed, and as he sat down he leered at me.  I remember that look, and could never think of another name for it.  I said in my (then very soft and a bit shaky) girl voice "I'd rather have a female manicurist" and he looked crestfallen, got up, and sent someone more to my liking over.

We were seated for our mani-pedis in adjacent chairs.  A young lady sat down in front of Charity; a man sat down in front of me.  Charity was nice enough to ask if we could switch; they switched with no questions or issues.  A few minutes in, I remember the massage chair and turned mine on.

The male technician was very chatty; the woman doing my toes was not.  We spoke a bit but mostly she addressed other employees in Chinese, I think.  Most of our conversation involved her asking me if I wanted my nails cut short, and pushing "shellac," which she said would last longer.  I just said no, although I was considering saying it would have to come off in a few days, when I return to work.  I couldn't think of a good answer to the obvious question ("why?") at the time.  Later I did: "because I can't wear nail polish at work."  That might have inspired more questions.  It would have started a conversation at least.  I should have said it.  At one point she said that the polish would start to chip in a couple of days and I said "then maybe I'll be back before leaving the island" and she stopped asking.

I can see Meg in my car!

After the pedicure she very carefully slid my flip-flops back on so as to not damage her artwork.  I wanted to ask about nail art, but I didn't know how or when to bring that up so I didn't.  A little painting on my big toes would be nice.

She did my manicure as well; a different girl did Charity's and she sat at a different pair of tables.  A female customer with copious tattoos and gauged ears (are y'all surprised I knew the name for this and didn't say "grommets in her earlobes?") was seated next to her.  The seat next to me was empty.

As she was doing her pre-paint washing and filing the technician twice told me to relax my hand.  The second time, I replied by lying.  I said, very softly, "I'm sorry.  This is my first time in a nail salon."  Softly, both because it would seem confessional and because I didn't want Charity to call out "it is not!"

Ladies, this is a Good Lie.  You're now the little sister, leaning on your big sister's experience and expertise.  Yes, it's a bit manipulative but I believe it's harmless and helpful.

Until that point the technician seemed almost bored and distracted.  She looked past me, out the front window and again chatted with other employees in her native tongue.  But now, she became talkative, and we had a nice chat, two girls at the salon.  The mani-pedi wasn't expensive ($35) and I left a $10 tip in cash, which I think was generous.

While our nails were drying, we sat opposite the tattooed lady.

I kid around a LOT.  It's my normal condition.  I do a lot of what I call hit-and-run humour.  I will do a one-liner, or force a straight line, make my joke and scoot.  I couldn't leave in this situation but I joked around with Charity, about the area, about the manicure, and about whatever came to mind.  I kept glancing at Tattoo, who smiled a few times so I brought her into the conversation (she called the ear thing gauging and said it hurt more than the tattoos).  I think I made it less boring for all of us ~ she told us a lot about herself and we shared too (not EVERYTHING though!).  Again, a little girltalk... my favourite (public) interaction.

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Planning and Such

For parents with pre-school-age children, or adults without kids at home, the week after Labour Day is the best time to visit the Outer Banks area of North Carolina.

The Outer Banks is a long strip of barrier beach, best known for Kitty Hawk, where Columbus landed in 1776.

Ready to head to the beach!

No, my knowledge of history is bad but not that bad.  Honest.

There's a Wright Memorial and you can trace their first four flights and see the house where they stayed and built their flyers and gliders.  You can see a replica of their first powered flyer, because the real one is in DC.  You can visit their many and varied gift shops, which I'm pretty sure were added after the Wrights were gone.

Others may have heard about the wild horses in Corolla, further north.  Or Roanoke Island, home of the first child to be born to Europeans in the New World and the "lost colony."

I haven't been in many years.  Lying on beaches is not my idea of a holiday.  I've tried it.  I've tried bringing a book or magazine and beach chair or blanket and sitting on the sand under an umbrella.

I can do that for about twenty minutes before I have to get up and walk or visit the nearest town or do SOMETHING.

Charity has never been to the Outer Banks, and when I've gone in the past I couldn't stop and look at shoes and dresses and jewelry At All.  So I thought a little visit might be in order.

Four days over Labour Day seemed good.  Charity has limited vacation days and this way she would only need two.  The Saturday before Labour Day would be pricey in terms of room rental, and busy in terms of traffic, so going down Sunday and returning Wednesday seemed like a plan.

And I wanted to try four days of Meg.

I've never done more than a bit over 24 hours before.  I've always worried about shaving multiple days in a row; most effective for facial hair has been to skip a day but that wouldn't keep me Meg-smooth.

Body hair too starts to spring up a couple of days after a thorough shave.

I didn't know if it would get to be too much after a couple of days.  I might just say "too much work" or "too hot for this" and revert to my boring clothing.

I brought along a sort-of escape hatch.  I brought a t-shirt and pair of (girl) Burmuda-style shorts.

If I decided to ditch Meg, I'd kind of stand out though: I planned to get a mani-pedi on the first day.  I only had open-toed shoes; tan flip-flops would have to work for malemode.  I brought my contacts but only my girl glasses. 

Mostly, "male" would be the absense of Meg: no wig, no makeup, no boobs.

As I wrote last week, before the trip, I ordered a mastectomy swim suit.  One reader suggested using medical adhesive to keep forms in place under the suit; maybe next time (why not?).

I also ordered flip-flops and two swimsuit cover-ups, one a long dress with an open lacy back; one short and kind of mesh.  The long one could easily be worn as a dress; the short one really needed something else underneath.

I packed way too many outfits, both dresses, and skirts and tops.  I brought camis in case a top was unexpectedly too low in front.  I brought wedges and flats and flip-flops.  I brought five or six pair of earrings, and necklaces, and bracelets.  I wore two rings, as Meg often does.  I brought an extra wig in case one did not enjoy the salt and sand much.

For the drive, I wore a dress I hadn't worn in over a year, and my wedges.

It was a five hour trip, and it was fine.

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"Any exciting things happen?"

"Don't ask, can't tell" rears its ugly head once again.  At our weekly staff meeting on Thursday, the
big boss asked "how was Labour Day?  Did any exciting things happen?"

Nobody had anything really interesting.  I think "I went to the beach and spent four days exclusively dressed as a girl" would have won.

SPOILER ALERT:

Espresso Chip.
I whispered to  the girl "I think I need rainbow sprinkles."

During the four day visit, there was not a single misused pronoun, not a bad comment or even a frown from the people I dealt with.  I did make one little girl cry, but that's because I didn't see her and I bumped into her and she fell onto her tush (you know how toddlers do that when they lose their balance... plop!).  But another preschooler gave me a big wave and a "HI" when we unwittingly walked past her official greeting station.  At a restaurant, one older woman was glaring at me from several tables away.  She seemed to be trying to rouse the rest of her clan to whatever indignity she imagined she saw.  They were unimpressed to the point of not even looking up.