Ceera
09-20-2015, 08:02 PM
I've spent the last three evenings in a row (Thurs-Sat) out and about en-femme, and having a blast. (I'll post about that tomorrow with some pictures.)
Today (Sunday) I had no plans for more outings, but when I retired for the evening last night and switched back to male mode, I decided to leave my nails done. I was wearing false press-on nails, in a French cut design that is pale pink, tipped with white and a thin band of silver glitter. They're supposed to be good for a full week, and I didn't really feel like removing them. They look close enough to normal unpainted nails to a casual glance that I figured there was no reason to take them off just yet.
Well, my daughter and I went out for breakfast tacos this morning, and then to the mall, with me in male mode but my nails done and me carrying a purse. I was also wearing a black braided leather bracelet with a fairly subtle rainbow decoration on the cylindrical magnetic clasp, on the underside of my wrist.
No one noticed my nails or commented about them - not even when I went into Sephora at the mall, by myself, and bought some cosmetics and perfume for myself, or when I went into Hot Topic with my daughter and picked two bottles of nail polish (bright red and bright metallic purple) and a couple of flower hair garlands to top off the order of stuff my daughter wanted to buy.
We went home and did some work around the house, and then went out for dinner together at a fast food place, and then to the grocery store. No comments at the fast food place, but as I checked out at the grocery store, the twenty-something girl who was my cashier helped me to bag my groceries, and said something that I didn't quite catch.
I asked her to repeat it, and she looked at my hands and asked, "Are those your real nails?" She was smiling and seemed friendly, so I just owned it and said, "No, they're Broadway Impress. My real nails split too badly if I try to grow them out and make them look this nice." She grinned and said, "I hear you. I have a hard time with mine splitting too. My nails are too brittle." She was acting just like I was another girl, even though I was clearly in male presentation aside from my nails and purse. So as I finished up, I just nodded and said, "Yeah, I'd have to use three or four coats of nail hardener before I even tried to do my real nails. But these work well for me." I walked out feeling pretty good.
Today (Sunday) I had no plans for more outings, but when I retired for the evening last night and switched back to male mode, I decided to leave my nails done. I was wearing false press-on nails, in a French cut design that is pale pink, tipped with white and a thin band of silver glitter. They're supposed to be good for a full week, and I didn't really feel like removing them. They look close enough to normal unpainted nails to a casual glance that I figured there was no reason to take them off just yet.
Well, my daughter and I went out for breakfast tacos this morning, and then to the mall, with me in male mode but my nails done and me carrying a purse. I was also wearing a black braided leather bracelet with a fairly subtle rainbow decoration on the cylindrical magnetic clasp, on the underside of my wrist.
No one noticed my nails or commented about them - not even when I went into Sephora at the mall, by myself, and bought some cosmetics and perfume for myself, or when I went into Hot Topic with my daughter and picked two bottles of nail polish (bright red and bright metallic purple) and a couple of flower hair garlands to top off the order of stuff my daughter wanted to buy.
We went home and did some work around the house, and then went out for dinner together at a fast food place, and then to the grocery store. No comments at the fast food place, but as I checked out at the grocery store, the twenty-something girl who was my cashier helped me to bag my groceries, and said something that I didn't quite catch.
I asked her to repeat it, and she looked at my hands and asked, "Are those your real nails?" She was smiling and seemed friendly, so I just owned it and said, "No, they're Broadway Impress. My real nails split too badly if I try to grow them out and make them look this nice." She grinned and said, "I hear you. I have a hard time with mine splitting too. My nails are too brittle." She was acting just like I was another girl, even though I was clearly in male presentation aside from my nails and purse. So as I finished up, I just nodded and said, "Yeah, I'd have to use three or four coats of nail hardener before I even tried to do my real nails. But these work well for me." I walked out feeling pretty good.