It's been an exciting couple of months. After literally 33 years of DADT (my wife last saw me dressed in 1980 before we got married). She decided she'd be OK with getting to know Michelle a little better. So, I got dolled up at the house and presented. She was rather in shock but provided feedback:
o She was very impressed with how nice I looked and how well I had transformed
o She felt she would not recognize me if passing me on the street save for my smile
o She advised my big tells were my height (6 feet even) and voice
This was in preparation for a quick girly adventure in Las Vegas. She was relaxed and totally supportive and soon was providing more feedback.
o Heels are out; I'm too tall as it is
o I was dressing too much to be noticed; cover up that cleavage, Miss!
o I look washed out with a nude lip color, and can indeed rock red lipstick
o She didn't like my blush at all, so that needs to be swapped out for next time
o My wig is a bit over-the-top
We strolled Fremont Street for quite a while. I know (and my wife agreed) that I was clearly clocked at least once when a lady walked by and let out an involuntary "Oh!". She also spent a fair amount of time observing people observing me and I found her conclusion surprising: I was turning the heads of about 1/3 of the people we went by. Why is this? Who knows, but the possibilities include:
o Dude dressed up like a chick
o Six foot chick
o Way too perfect presentation for casual Fremont Street
o Hot chick (well, I can dream, can't I?)
Her summary observation of the experience was that many of her fears had been allayed - what I do is strange, but not sinister, and ultimately harmless. (No, I'm not going to orgies or picking up men, I just have DNA that gives me a fondness for getting dolled up. I'm way beyond dude in a dress and am actually rather advanced in my "craft".)
So, a fabulous adventure with my fabulous wife, a healthier and more relaxed relationship with the "elephant in the room" no longer creating constant background angst. Hugs, Michelle