Here is sit, dressed and ready to go out, in a short white skirt, black and white top, pink cardi and red suede wedges. But I'm frozen. There's two landscaper guys sitting on the curb beside my car, eating lunch. For all my big bold talk about getting out there and owning it, I feel like an idiot sitting inside waiting for them to finish up and move on.
Why? Out of respect for my wife. She does not want me seen dressed in public, she tells me she dreads the "uncomfortable conversations" she might have to deal with. She likes most of the outfits I put together, but this is where her line in the sand is. Of course, I can't comply 100%. I have to get out sometimes, like today. My compromise is to be discreet by not being seen in that first 30 feet.
I dunno. It's an imperfect scene, in an imperfect world, played out by an imperfect crossdressser. But I think I need to show the hiccups as well as the successes.