My original goal was to dress up for work at my new company.
When Halloween was still a couple of months away, I was thinking, if they're doing anything with dressing up, I'm doing "office girl drag", wearing a skirt suit. I planned the whole thing out ~ I went to a several local spa-type places to see if I could get a place to change and have someone do my makeup. I found one that didn't open until noon (too late ~ by the time I got back to the office it would be 1.30 or 2) and another that sounded real good. $45 for makeup and they do "eyebrow threading" so I could get that fixed up a bit AND they open at 9 AND they were pretty close to the office. But when I tried to talk to the makeup woman she acted interested but made herself scarce. She disappeared when I called and wouldn't call back. So I wrote her off and figured I still had an option. I could go to the mall, bring a bag into the family restroom and change and do my make-up there. This is something I hadn't done before.
As it got closer to Halloween, it looked like there was going to be nothing going on here. A few months after Halloween, they announced an "employee morale" kind of group, doing contests and cakes and things. I bet if that was in place in Sept they'd have had a costume contest or something I could have taken advantage of!
Before Halloween, I mentioned to C, who was still looking for work, that I'd like to dress up that day. When I started talking about trying to find a place to do my makeup and change, C decided she wanted "in." I could come to her place, change there and we could go out and maybe shop for a while before I changed back and returned to work. I was between projects and the office wouldn't care if I took a four-or-more hour break.
So my plan was to go to work, then leave around 9. I'd head over to C's house, get changed and made-up and we'd go to a mall for an hour or so then I'd either head back to her house to change back (sigh) or I'd head for the family restroom at the mall and change there.
I called to remind her I'm heading over but when I got there she had just gotten up and needed to shower, which was OK -- I needed time to change anyway. I changed quickly.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Halloween 2008: The Untold Story
Really.... Other than you guys, who would I tell?
In October, 2008, I was working for a small company. Halloween was on a Friday. I was still uncomfortable about coming out. I wanted to, but I cared what people would think, and I was on the edge between scared and ambivalent. This is a bad time. If you find yourself here, get over it as soon as possible. It's a road to mistakes and regrets. Take my advice (since I'm not using it): Get Over It. Either resign yourself to stay in the closet, at least for the present, or jump in with two feet and eyes wide open. Plan your lines, be prepared for anything, and be bold. The space in between is, as I said, bad.
I think we need a flashback. Cue the wavy line thing they do in sitcoms when they flashback.
The only local person who knew about Meg from my previous company is C. After I left the company, we used to meet for lunch about once a month. While I was at the company, we shared an office for a few months.
I know I've told this before, but I like to direct conversation towards my favourite hobby whenever I can. While I was at the company, I decided to take a six-month sabbatical. I thought I had been working full-time long enough and the project I was on was just delivered. There was really nothing a more junior person couldn't handle and I wanted a break, even if it was unpaid.
C wanted to know what I was going to do for six months. I told her that I wanted time to get aclimated after my sex-change surgery. Her first comment? "Go with the biggest boobs you can. You won't be sorry." This led to an enjoyable discussion about boobs. Looking at C, I can imagine she's an expert.
After that, I joked about it occasionally; sometimes she asks questions about it, as if that was my plan. She was never judgemental, and really kind of supportive, but I wasn't sure if she was being supportive or just going along with the joke. When she mentioned that she needed to go shopping for clothes, I told her I'd be happy to go with her, "dressed either way."
While I was on my break, we started the once-a-month lunch thing, so I could catch up on what was going on at the company. At one lunch, I told her I clearly wasn't getting a sex-change operation, but I did like to dress up whenever I had the chance.
C is not my most liberal friend. She is moderately judgemental. I wasn't sure how this would go. But she's told me some of her secrets, and her deeper feelings, and things I wouldn't share with most people, so I thought I owed her this.
She was fine. She said she'd like to meet "Meg." I told her that I didn't get out as often as I like, about my home situation, but I said I'd arrange it if I could.
I had an opportunity in March, 2008. I had returned after my time off, and the work wasn't there. I don't like sitting on a bench, so I tendered my resignation and found a job not far away. In early March, I took a day off and did my third "solo," where I did all of my makeup, chose my own clothes (what a big girl I am!), and went out all on my own. This was a Friday.
Sadly, C had become a major player in a corporate power play/soap opera/fatal attraction kind of thing, and had lost her job. This did mean she was home on the same Friday I was going out.
I arranged to drop by her house late that morning. Although everyone was going to be out for an after-school activity, I needed time to change and put everything away and, of course, shower and scrub off my makeup.
I had a couple of errands to run first. I stopped at the local computer recycling place with some equipment.
This is the first time I remember being on my own and not scared as I stepped out of the car. I remember just walking out of the car, opening the trunk and pulling out computers, as I've done many times before, although not in a blouse and skirt and heels.
I drove to the center in Alexandria, where I've been several times before. I pulled up to their loading dock. The door was closed. I went up the metal stairs to the regular door and went in. Inside was another door to the warehouse area. Knocking on the inside door got no response.
I knew they were open, so I shrugged and went down the steps and started carrying my computers and such up to the side door. After my second trip (carefully, in those pumps) someone opened the door. I spoke with the man there and told him I had more to deliver. He brought the parts in and offered to help me with the rest. I thanked him and he opened the loading door, came down and helped this overdressed, helpless female unload. There were no comments, no snickers, not even an odd look. My confidence, already pretty high, went up another dozen points.
I was still early, so I drove to a mall that was between the recycling center and C's house. I spent a bit of time looking around ~ I was still at my "window shopping" stage ~ and I headed up to Arlington, where C lives.
When I was a few blocks away, I called C, as we arranged, to make sure she was there. No answer. I drove around a bit and settled once more a couple of blocks from her house. I called again, with the same result. I left a message and told her the time and that I was heading home in a few minutes.
I was nervous about her meeting "Meg" and getting more nervous by the minute. I was both relieved and profoundly disappointed as I drove away ten or so minutes later.
Just before I got on the highway my phone rang. It was C. She just got back to her house and if it wasn't too late.... I assured her I was just a short distance away and I could be there in a few minutes.
If I had arrived home, I would have turned around. It's not that C is that special. She is nice, and easy on the eyes. But I want to spend time with anyone who wants to meet Meg!
She opened the door, greeted me without laughter, and invited me in. I remember she didn't call me Meg (or anything else). I think her comfort level was theoretical until that point. I didn't think to ask her to take a picture of me at her house, or to try to get a picture of us together; I didn't even bring my camera! I overplan and underperform.
I hung out for about an hour. She gave me a tour of the house, we had something cold to drink and chatted for a while about a variety of things.
I left feeling great. Girl time, for Meg, is rare.
So what does this have to do with Halloween, 2008? I'm getting there.
In October, 2008, I was working for a small company. Halloween was on a Friday. I was still uncomfortable about coming out. I wanted to, but I cared what people would think, and I was on the edge between scared and ambivalent. This is a bad time. If you find yourself here, get over it as soon as possible. It's a road to mistakes and regrets. Take my advice (since I'm not using it): Get Over It. Either resign yourself to stay in the closet, at least for the present, or jump in with two feet and eyes wide open. Plan your lines, be prepared for anything, and be bold. The space in between is, as I said, bad.
I think we need a flashback. Cue the wavy line thing they do in sitcoms when they flashback.
The only local person who knew about Meg from my previous company is C. After I left the company, we used to meet for lunch about once a month. While I was at the company, we shared an office for a few months.
I know I've told this before, but I like to direct conversation towards my favourite hobby whenever I can. While I was at the company, I decided to take a six-month sabbatical. I thought I had been working full-time long enough and the project I was on was just delivered. There was really nothing a more junior person couldn't handle and I wanted a break, even if it was unpaid.
C wanted to know what I was going to do for six months. I told her that I wanted time to get aclimated after my sex-change surgery. Her first comment? "Go with the biggest boobs you can. You won't be sorry." This led to an enjoyable discussion about boobs. Looking at C, I can imagine she's an expert.
After that, I joked about it occasionally; sometimes she asks questions about it, as if that was my plan. She was never judgemental, and really kind of supportive, but I wasn't sure if she was being supportive or just going along with the joke. When she mentioned that she needed to go shopping for clothes, I told her I'd be happy to go with her, "dressed either way."
While I was on my break, we started the once-a-month lunch thing, so I could catch up on what was going on at the company. At one lunch, I told her I clearly wasn't getting a sex-change operation, but I did like to dress up whenever I had the chance.
C is not my most liberal friend. She is moderately judgemental. I wasn't sure how this would go. But she's told me some of her secrets, and her deeper feelings, and things I wouldn't share with most people, so I thought I owed her this.
She was fine. She said she'd like to meet "Meg." I told her that I didn't get out as often as I like, about my home situation, but I said I'd arrange it if I could.
I had an opportunity in March, 2008. I had returned after my time off, and the work wasn't there. I don't like sitting on a bench, so I tendered my resignation and found a job not far away. In early March, I took a day off and did my third "solo," where I did all of my makeup, chose my own clothes (what a big girl I am!), and went out all on my own. This was a Friday.
Sadly, C had become a major player in a corporate power play/soap opera/fatal attraction kind of thing, and had lost her job. This did mean she was home on the same Friday I was going out.
I arranged to drop by her house late that morning. Although everyone was going to be out for an after-school activity, I needed time to change and put everything away and, of course, shower and scrub off my makeup.
I had a couple of errands to run first. I stopped at the local computer recycling place with some equipment.
This is the first time I remember being on my own and not scared as I stepped out of the car. I remember just walking out of the car, opening the trunk and pulling out computers, as I've done many times before, although not in a blouse and skirt and heels.
I drove to the center in Alexandria, where I've been several times before. I pulled up to their loading dock. The door was closed. I went up the metal stairs to the regular door and went in. Inside was another door to the warehouse area. Knocking on the inside door got no response.
I knew they were open, so I shrugged and went down the steps and started carrying my computers and such up to the side door. After my second trip (carefully, in those pumps) someone opened the door. I spoke with the man there and told him I had more to deliver. He brought the parts in and offered to help me with the rest. I thanked him and he opened the loading door, came down and helped this overdressed, helpless female unload. There were no comments, no snickers, not even an odd look. My confidence, already pretty high, went up another dozen points.
I was still early, so I drove to a mall that was between the recycling center and C's house. I spent a bit of time looking around ~ I was still at my "window shopping" stage ~ and I headed up to Arlington, where C lives.
When I was a few blocks away, I called C, as we arranged, to make sure she was there. No answer. I drove around a bit and settled once more a couple of blocks from her house. I called again, with the same result. I left a message and told her the time and that I was heading home in a few minutes.
I was nervous about her meeting "Meg" and getting more nervous by the minute. I was both relieved and profoundly disappointed as I drove away ten or so minutes later.
Just before I got on the highway my phone rang. It was C. She just got back to her house and if it wasn't too late.... I assured her I was just a short distance away and I could be there in a few minutes.
If I had arrived home, I would have turned around. It's not that C is that special. She is nice, and easy on the eyes. But I want to spend time with anyone who wants to meet Meg!
She opened the door, greeted me without laughter, and invited me in. I remember she didn't call me Meg (or anything else). I think her comfort level was theoretical until that point. I didn't think to ask her to take a picture of me at her house, or to try to get a picture of us together; I didn't even bring my camera! I overplan and underperform.
I hung out for about an hour. She gave me a tour of the house, we had something cold to drink and chatted for a while about a variety of things.
I left feeling great. Girl time, for Meg, is rare.
So what does this have to do with Halloween, 2008? I'm getting there.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Dinner With Joanie ~ Really This Time!
I parked and walked the block to her hotel and as I walked inside, I saw a pretty lady with long long hair walking towards me and I was fairly certain that was her.
She has the look down pat. If I didn't know, I wouldn't have known. I kind of studied her picture and made some mental notes (long hair, slim, glasses) and I still wasn't sure I had the right woman when I said "Joanie?" Remember my prosopagnosia.
I was there in my male disguise, so I didn't expect her to recognise me, and she didn't. She practically walked past me until I said something.
Her hotel was on King Street, closer to the Metro than the water. King street is kind of the main street of Alexandria, and as you get closer to the water it becomes almost solid restaurants. Along the way, and on side streets, are mostly small businesses. Small, unique, clothing and jewelry shops abound. But there's even a (C)Ross-Dress-For-Less off the main drag (hah!), a short walk from her hotel.
We walked several blocks and chatted like old friends who somehow knew nothing about each other, if that makes any sense. I'm getting used to it. I've only met a few girls one-on-one, but that seems to be the common experience.
We assessed a few restaurants and looked in shop windows. We walked about six blocks before finding a place to sit down and eat. I watched people as we walked. Mostly, we were ignored. I did catch a couple of guys eyeing Joanie (I know, I didn't say anything while we were out). I didn't see anything odd or out of the ordinary, and I think other people didn't either, except maybe to wonder how I got together with a pretty girl like her.
You can see from the picture that we have different cosmetics philosophies. Where I go for the cover-the-masculinity approach, she goes for a lighter approach, and it sure works. I wish I had a more casual femininity. Or maybe not. As long as I'm overdoing my dressing, I might as well be overdoing my makeup as well!
Over dinner I learned a lot about Joanie. I think more non-t-girls know about Meg than know about Joanie. On the other hand, like Dana and Vanessa (who I still haven't written about! Sorry sorry sorry!), her wife and children do know, and meet with Joanie regularly. Her wife, like mine, is a social worker, and probably has more of an understanding of gender issues than most. Her wife, like mine, isn't interested in spending time with her "other" husband. But unlike mine, unlike many of us, her wife is very accepting. They can openly discuss gender issues and she can change at home. They have reached an agreement that allows her much more freedom than I have: she has a "Joanie" day once a month. Her toenails are painted. Her ears are pierced. She's had a lot of hair removed (although not permanently). They share clothing, lucky girl.
She's a bit more on the "I care" side of the spectrum than I am, and she takes a great deal of care to not be noticed by neighbors or coworkers or friends, but at some point her children will spill the beans and I think she'll be ready, and I think her wife will be resigned, if not also ready. And I want to hear that story!
Joanie's also smart, nice, and easy to talk to. And no, This Was Not A Date. It was more like two colleagues at a business dinner.
And I'm going to tell you a little secret: she's not wearing a wig.
Before saying goodnight at the hotel, I grabbed my camera and we commandeered the chairs and tables at a little outdoor cafe. At the hotel, she hugged me (I needed little encouragement) and we kept on talking. I think we would have stood there and talked all night, except we both had to work the next day so we both said an abrupt goodnight and the evening was over.
I'm not sure if Joanie had more fun (because she was out) or if I had more fun (because I was with Joanie). She travels here occasionally, and perhaps I can meet her as Meg next time. Or maybe I can arrange an overnight in Denver on a trip to AZ before too long.
I'm always nervous meeting someone new, but so far, I've never been disappointed with any of you I've met. I hope to meet many many more. And I hope some of you who are deep in the closet will come out and meet some of your peers. We're all pretty nice girls. :D
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Dinner with Joanie
Alas, it was as my male self dining with Joanie.
But something weird happened a couple of days ago.
I told my wife I would be having dinner with "someone who shares my hobby" on Monday or Tuesday. I said she'd be flying in Monday evening, and told her the details I knew: where she's staying, where she's working. She asked me where he's (sic) from (baby steps: I'm not going to correct her pronoun problem... yet). I said I wasn't sure, then said "Colorado. I remember he [yes, I feel awful saying that] met up with Dana, who I had dinner with in Colorado Springs." She said "you never told me that." I said I sure did and then she remembered. She said "you were both dressed?" and I said yes, and she said "and what does his (sic) wife think about that?" I said "girlfriend. And she'd like him to go 24x7."
We had this discussion in the car, and arrived home and she got out and the inquisition ended there.
Later, I told my wife I'd push for Monday, even though that was more difficult. She would be out that evening, and I had to pick up my son and I wasn't sure how I was going to feed him and get out and meet at a reasonable time. My eyes are less happy in the dark. And I like at least one parent to be home with the kid, even though he's certainly old enough to be on his own for a few hours.
But Tuesday, I said, she wanted to meet with some other local girls who go out once or twice a week, and I didn't want to spoil that. I said I'd never met the group and was hoping to some day.
Here's the weird thing: she said, "why don't you go Tuesday and meet them too?"
I said "I'd like to, but I can't change while you and the kid are here."
She said nothing. I don't know if she didn't realise it was a dressing event, or if she didn't realise I had no place to change.
And I was too surprised to continue the conversation.
I got home a bit before 10. I want to write about Joanie and dinner and, if my camera behaved, post a picture. But it's late and there is tomorrow.
I will say: it was a real pleasure meeting her.
And, late last night, I did have a discussion with my wife about pronouns.
But something weird happened a couple of days ago.
I told my wife I would be having dinner with "someone who shares my hobby" on Monday or Tuesday. I said she'd be flying in Monday evening, and told her the details I knew: where she's staying, where she's working. She asked me where he's (sic) from (baby steps: I'm not going to correct her pronoun problem... yet). I said I wasn't sure, then said "Colorado. I remember he [yes, I feel awful saying that] met up with Dana, who I had dinner with in Colorado Springs." She said "you never told me that." I said I sure did and then she remembered. She said "you were both dressed?" and I said yes, and she said "and what does his (sic) wife think about that?" I said "girlfriend. And she'd like him to go 24x7."
We had this discussion in the car, and arrived home and she got out and the inquisition ended there.
Later, I told my wife I'd push for Monday, even though that was more difficult. She would be out that evening, and I had to pick up my son and I wasn't sure how I was going to feed him and get out and meet at a reasonable time. My eyes are less happy in the dark. And I like at least one parent to be home with the kid, even though he's certainly old enough to be on his own for a few hours.
But Tuesday, I said, she wanted to meet with some other local girls who go out once or twice a week, and I didn't want to spoil that. I said I'd never met the group and was hoping to some day.
Here's the weird thing: she said, "why don't you go Tuesday and meet them too?"
I said "I'd like to, but I can't change while you and the kid are here."
She said nothing. I don't know if she didn't realise it was a dressing event, or if she didn't realise I had no place to change.
And I was too surprised to continue the conversation.
I got home a bit before 10. I want to write about Joanie and dinner and, if my camera behaved, post a picture. But it's late and there is tomorrow.
I will say: it was a real pleasure meeting her.
And, late last night, I did have a discussion with my wife about pronouns.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Gender Linguistics
I went into a restroom that had one stall. On the door, it said "men." Wouldn't it have made more sense to say "man?" I mean, at that point, it's not a men's room, it's a man's room.
That got me thinking.... One = man. Many = men. So why isn't it "meny?" It sounds that way. It should be spelled that way.
Off on a slight tangent, I think I know why there's such a blowback against the idea of gay marriage. I think the average civilian is OK with two women together, except for the idea that two women are now out of circulation. But two men.... That sounds too gay, and gay has an anti-macho connotation.
My solution? Change one letter. Call it "guy marriage." Now it sounds like the kind of thing where the ceremony would be held in a mancave, and they'd go out camping instead of having a honeymoon.
And on another tangent... can women be testy? Or sent to a penal colony, or a penitentiary? Can men get hysterical?
I bet if I took the time to look it up, I'd find out that the word roots aren't what I think they are, but it's more fun not to.
Many years ago, I was a docent at the Bronx zoo. During training, the difference between altricial (animals that are born needing a parent's care) and precocial (animals that are ready to run from birth) was explained. One of the other trainees said "that makes sense. 'Altricial' is from 'altruistic' where someone would need to care for another. And 'precocial' is from 'precocious', so they'd be ahead of the other animals and ready to run or feed themselves." I thought that made sense. So I went home and pulled out the dictionary (no internet yet) and... she was completely wrong. I considered straightening her out the next week, but I wouldn't remember who she was (I've explained this before). Besides, I've never forgotten when altricial and precocial mean. I haven't needed it much, but still.
That got me thinking.... One = man. Many = men. So why isn't it "meny?" It sounds that way. It should be spelled that way.
Off on a slight tangent, I think I know why there's such a blowback against the idea of gay marriage. I think the average civilian is OK with two women together, except for the idea that two women are now out of circulation. But two men.... That sounds too gay, and gay has an anti-macho connotation.
My solution? Change one letter. Call it "guy marriage." Now it sounds like the kind of thing where the ceremony would be held in a mancave, and they'd go out camping instead of having a honeymoon.
And on another tangent... can women be testy? Or sent to a penal colony, or a penitentiary? Can men get hysterical?
I bet if I took the time to look it up, I'd find out that the word roots aren't what I think they are, but it's more fun not to.
Many years ago, I was a docent at the Bronx zoo. During training, the difference between altricial (animals that are born needing a parent's care) and precocial (animals that are ready to run from birth) was explained. One of the other trainees said "that makes sense. 'Altricial' is from 'altruistic' where someone would need to care for another. And 'precocial' is from 'precocious', so they'd be ahead of the other animals and ready to run or feed themselves." I thought that made sense. So I went home and pulled out the dictionary (no internet yet) and... she was completely wrong. I considered straightening her out the next week, but I wouldn't remember who she was (I've explained this before). Besides, I've never forgotten when altricial and precocial mean. I haven't needed it much, but still.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Your Turn ~ Paula Gee
If readers want me to give them a little "floor space," I'll keep Sunday open for you. Just write me or send a comment (put PRIVATE in the comment so I don't post it).
Last Sunday was Diane's turn. This week it's Paula's.
And now the previously hidden story can be told.
Paula didn't answer requests for me to use her name, but she's become a bit more comfortable in the past few weeks and I can let y'all know that she was the inspiration for my dating poll. I called her "Z." Her initial was changed to protect the innocent.
But she did write in response to my fishing for Your Turn stories. I'm glad she did. From here on, it's in her own words, slightly edited.
You were kind enough to use me to start your polls, the results made me feel a whole lot less confused, as with so many other aspects of dressing having it out in the open makes it all seem a lot less daunting and confusing.
I have now set up a web identity just for Paula, and have joined Call Me Meg that way as well as with my drab name/persona. Indeed I have now also gone so far as to start my own blog, http://paula-paulasplace.
No nudity or sexual material
No violence
No potentially offensive language
Material that might disturb young children
No chat facilities
As inspired by Davita http://davita-farley.webs.com/
I have a lot to learn and I know I will struggle with the discipline to make regular posts (I have another blog already) but hope that it will be fun to do and will put me in contact with more like minded folks.
I am Paula's first follower. I like her writing style, and, as you can see, she's a lovely lady. She's one of my British readers, from London. I've probably mentioned that I'm an Anglophile and I worked for BT (British Telecom) for many years.
(Just kidding)
And now the previously hidden story can be told.
Paula didn't answer requests for me to use her name, but she's become a bit more comfortable in the past few weeks and I can let y'all know that she was the inspiration for my dating poll. I called her "Z." Her initial was changed to protect the innocent.
But she did write in response to my fishing for Your Turn stories. I'm glad she did. From here on, it's in her own words, slightly edited.
You were kind enough to use me to start your polls, the results made me feel a whole lot less confused, as with so many other aspects of dressing having it out in the open makes it all seem a lot less daunting and confusing.
I have now set up a web identity just for Paula, and have joined Call Me Meg that way as well as with my drab name/persona. Indeed I have now also gone so far as to start my own blog, http://paula-paulasplace.
As inspired by Davita http://davita-farley.webs.com/
I have a lot to learn and I know I will struggle with the discipline to make regular posts (I have another blog already) but hope that it will be fun to do and will put me in contact with more like minded folks.
I am Paula's first follower. I like her writing style, and, as you can see, she's a lovely lady. She's one of my British readers, from London. I've probably mentioned that I'm an Anglophile and I worked for BT (British Telecom) for many years.
Paula allowed me to put her e-mail address here. To avoid her getting spammed, I won't. But I will tell you you can write her at her hotmail.co.uk account. Her user name is paula.gee .
Of course, you can click on a picture to enlarge it. She sent me a third but I can't post that one! Really, Paula! I hardly know you!
(Just kidding)
Saturday, September 24, 2011
In Honour of the End of DADT
I wonder what Kevin is padding GI Joe with.
(Update: Sorry, Paula, and my readers from outside the states: DADT is Don't Ask Don't Tell, the idiotic policy that gays could serve in the military as long as they don't admit they're gay. And no-one was allowed to ask. So the official policy for the last 10+ years was "lie, and stay in the closet.")
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
