So, instead of slitting my wrists, I decided to just do what I needed to do. Booked a trip to NYC. Planned to spend most of it in my preferred clothing. Got eyebrows waxed (nothing too dramatic), as well as the back. Shaved the rest, which took forever, causing me to miss my Saturday MAC consultation. Chickened out and just wandered NYC in boy mode.
On Monday, I manned up (so to speak), re-shaved, booked a new appointment at MAC, put on my clothes, set my Ipod on the new Shakira song ("She Wolf") and walked out the door. Demoralizing at first. On the way to nail salon, some goon made a big show of "Hey, that's a dude dressed like a chick!" I'm 6'5" in heels and 220 lbs. Not exactly a brilliant piece of detective work on his part. I wanted to ask him if he'd like to have his ass kicked by a crossdresser, but I just kept walking. By the way, 3" heels on new york city streets are way different than in the hotel room.
Salon hurt. All "Mister" and "Sir" from the staff, who insisted on shouting at me from the other side of the room. Afterward, just about went to the hotel room and gave up. I'm glad I didn't.
Went to MAC. Got a makeover from a super nice guy who was very sympathetic, noting how tense I was and reminding me that I was at MAC. Just about cried because he made me look on the outside the way I feel on the inside.
Back at the hotel, took tons of cheesy bathroom mirror pics. Then I went to a concert by one of my fav bands (TheStart). Mostly straight crowd. Generally, nobody cared. Got a few odd looks. Got a few smiles. Overheard one chick point me out to a dude, who replied that at least I looked good, which made me feel good. Felt like myself for once. Went back to the hotel happy.
One of the cheesy bathroom mirror pics. Do I look okay, or is it me?