Well, I finally arrived at my destination after a night of traveling as Marissa. It was everything I thought it would be… at least when I wasn’t walking.
I left the house at around 8:15, and began to carry out my plan. First things first, of course: change So I stopped at the gas station up the street (because it has private, outdoor bathrooms), and completed the transformation in very good time; and, I am getting better at makeup! I wore my pink knit sweater, new dark wash jeans, and my favorite boots. I felt great, to be finally out in public doing something other than drinking at a bar or club (which isn’t a bad thing, mind you!). I drove to the airport, parked, put on my nails, got my bags out, locked the Jeep, and there I was: out and about as Marissa!
I walked to the terminal, past many, many people going on their way in life. Some smiled, some didn’t notice, and not one person said or did anything to make me uncomfortable. I knew this would be the case, but I want to reiterate to anyone who is on the brink of going out: you have more to fear from your own nerves than you do other people
My confidence level just kept going up with each step, and I loved it!
But it wasn’t all roses, and the trouble free grace period was about to end. By the time I reached the right check in kiosk (on the complete opposite side of Dulles from where I parked), my feet were in agony. My favorite boots, while looking the part, certainly didn’t feel all that sexy. I had to sit before I even reached the check in booth, but I knew that I didn’t have time to waste, so I soldiered on and got my bag checked. I hobbled over to a ledge and sat down, faced with a dilemma: I can’t walk, and I still have to go through security and a shuttle ride to the gate. As much as I hated to do it, I removed the boots and went the rest of the way in socks. Security was a breeze, didn’t get bothered one bit. Even got called “Ma’am” by a cordial attendant.
After a huge fiasco at the gate (another story not worth telling here), I get on the plane. This is where I faced what every crossdresser fears; what we all lament about when talking about being confronted with people who outright want to point you out: it seemed that I had the luck of being on the same small, cramped flight as some St. Louis school wrestling team, of high school age it appeared. Well, I guess I was getting the trial-by-fire of a lifetime. I heard a few of the kids laugh and say something at the boarding gate, and as I got on I heard the same hecklers again. But I was more concerned about my battered, sweaty, aching body, than to care about some adolescent children express their social insecurities to their buddies, in an attempt to make sure that everyone knew that they weren’t different than the norm. (if confronted by one, I had a retort chambered… something to do with guys rolling around, grabbing one another seemed more straight than… oh, never mind haha).
The flight went by without any issues. The attendant was a sweetheart. I finally had my first chance to recuperate. But as we got off the plane, within the first few steps, I knew I was finished with heels. But I had to go to the bathroom, and with my last shred of reserve energy, I made it into the WOMEN’S bathroom Business complete, I set off again, but didn’t make it too far. Again, I was reduced to padding my way to the baggage claim in socks. I was beat, waving the white flag; I thought I had heels mastered, especially ones I have had longer than any other. When I got my bag, I changed into my pumps that I brought, which were 1000 times easier to walk in than the boots. I went to get my rental car next, which was just another matter of fact type of interaction. I was treated nicely, cordially, in a business like fashion. After dealing with high school children of the worst kind, there was nothing that was going to chink my armor!
My night ended at the hotel. I checked in (again, no issues, the hostess was so nice), got to my room, unpacked, and discovered I was hungry. I went down to the lobby to get some fast food; I had to heat it up there, so I sat in full femme, in the hotel lobby, while my food cooked in the microwave. Come on, this is nothing at this point. I chilled out, crossed my legs, dangling my pump, and watched the news. I was feeling the best I had felt all night. But there was one last hurdle to jump before I could retire: my room card wasn’t activating the elevator, so I had to go back to the front desk and have the key re-coded. Again, it didn’t work, and the manager than came out to help me. Of course, he got the key to work, and I was on my way home, to here, as I type this.
In retrospect, everything we fear as a crossdresser, the fear of being laughed and jeered at, the fear of interacting with people who know we are men in women’s clothing, the fear of being stuck somewhere dressed, it all happened to me within the span of 6 hours. But I am a stronger person because of it, and I learned a great deal about how I react in reality to these types of stresses, versus just envisioning how I would react to them if I were ever confronted by them. I was nervous at times, frustrated, but I just kept telling myself that “this is nothing but a thing, you’re ok!”, and I was. Everything turned out just fine, and I am a better Marissa now
So, my words of advice:
1) Wear sensible shoes. Leave the stiletto boots for the club.
2) Wear cool clothing. I was sweating from the constant movement, and it made me miserable.
3) Smile and make eye contact with everyone who addresses you. This goes for en-femme and en-drab.
4) Be confident, like nothing can phase you, because you have nothing to worry about!
5) Enjoy the sensations of finally doing something you have nervously dreamed about!
There are others, I am sure, but right now I am tired and need to shower and sleep. Good night!
I tried to post up last night, but I couldn't get on here thanks to database errors. So, I typed out the experience on MS Word. Here you go:
Originally Posted by Marissa Mae
Well, I finally arrived at my destination after a night of traveling as Marissa. It was everything I thought it would be… at least when I wasn’t walking.
LOL yup, same boots. Deceptively sexy, but don't try walking more than a block or 2 in them! I like the boots in your avatar better though!
). Since I'm already tall, I'm just gonna go ahead and get flats for going out with. Thanks to biking, my legs have some nice definition already, and I plan to keep it that way.
I was just naive to think I could do it in 4" heels 
I suppose I found out that society isn't really the monster we make it out to be; people have their own lives to attend to, and they only have a small amount of time in passing to say anything, and by that time you have already minced past 
Have you ever biked as Kathryn? Cute tennies, sports bra, silk biker shorts, the works? 
looking back, now that the pain is subsiding (my calves still feel like I just climbed a mountain) I am beginning to see only how much fun I had despite all of the setbacks. So yeah, I think I may have to fly the friendly skies again! I have just the outfit in mind too!
You will always get looks of interest or surprise from people, but you just shrug it off and keep going. No one can stop you!
