Outing #6. Just got home.
Have you ever felt something was going so well you felt a bit suspicious? Like you were feeling too happy for your own good?
Today was my sixth outing and I have a hard time imagining how it could have been better.
Firstly, I went to my weekly DJ gig. I left home wearing my regular t-shirt and jeans, but with a bra and panties, as well as black leggings underneath. I changed into full femme regalia when l arrived at the studio, as I had done many times before. This time, there was a difference: an old friend (let's call him Greg) had agreed to meet me so we could have lunch together later. Here's the hitch: I never indicated to him that l was a CDer. I was sorta worried about springing this on him with no warning, which l thought was kind of unfair.
Greg arrived and immediately noticed my dangling earrings. Trying to seem as normal as possible, l told him about my dressing, but made it clear that l intended to get back into drab for lunch. Greg wouldn't hear of it. He said it was fine if I went dressed up exactly as I was. Inside, I was. Giddy with excitement, this was my first time dressed at a restaurant and the staff didn't look at me funny. I had a perfectly normal experience and the food was very good, as was the conversation. Turns out, Greg, unbeknownst to me had had extensive experience interacting with drag queens in the past.
After the meal, I went to Goodwill, where I picked up a pair of skirts on sale, as well as a bag full of unused hosiery still in the original package.
From there, I went to my favorite art store, the same where a goofy SA refused to acknowledge me for very nearly a minute last time. This time, service was prompt and I was attended the moment I arrived.
From there, l went to a monthly pub trivia night where I'm well known in guy mode. These folks had seen my painted fingernails, but that was it. Deep inside l felt I was overdoing it a bit, even though I knew everything would work out ok.
Many of my friends and acquaintances were there and the pub trivia went as usual. I considered naming my team "I put on a bra for this?", But don't want to bring that kind of attention to myself, so l settled for "Heaven knows I am quizzical now". Everybody behaved as nothing out of the ordinary was happening and I never felt uncomfortable at any time. While the trivia was going on, Greg texted me to thank me for the great time and that he was flattered that l was so at ease around him to present myself as I did and he added that he looked forward to seeing my next step in my dressing; which is something we discussed during our meal (namely, my upcoming makeover and wig purchase).
As the trivia was underway, one of my friends asked me what name I'd like to be called, so l told him my femme name, which he proceeded to call me the rest of the evening, very nearly to the point of exaggeration, but l rolled with it. I guess I'm not yet used to being called my own name, lol. He did say, however that he saw me as the same person regardless of my gender expression. Even though I consider myself a somewhat emotionally detached person, l found that statement rather touching.
Another friend at the end of the night asked me what pronouns I'd like to be called. (Do l have hip friends or what?) I clarified that for the sake of simplicity I'd prefer the pronouns to reflect whatever gender l happen to be expressing at any given time.
As the night was winding down, I felt l should take my leave before my carriage turned back into a pumpkin, so I bid my friends good night and walked the four blocks from the pub to my car. There were other people out, so l didn't feel unsafe. My mind was (and still is) reeling from the experience, but it was excellent. I can't wait to complete my look!
Thanks for reading.
Outing #7: Crossed a bridge: went buxom
So Sundays seem to be shaping up to being my one day out dressed.
Again, my day started at my DJ gig, where I take advantage of the facilities to change. This time, I added a new element: my 42D Breast forms from Janet's Closet. No adhesives, just the forms stuffed snugly into a tight fitting bra.
At about the end of my shift, a fellow DJ who had never seen me dressed showed up unannounced. By now, my dressing is fairly common knowledge around my peer group, so the subject never came up in conversation while I was there. I was invited to participate in a meeting that was happening right after my shift - as a miad! I must admit I was a bit self conscious of my boobs, as I normally wear plain empty bras.
Anyway, after the meeting I resumed my original plan and drove to a neighboring city to check out a couple of different art stores for a change. I parked several blocks away from my destination and the shoes I chose to wear. while comfortable, weren't practical for speed walking. I expect the shoe design forced me to take my steps in a more feminine way. The impact of every step I took caused little palpable aftershocks in my chest area. Running in these shoes was not meant to be.
At one of the stores where I purchased some things, I had a pleasant chat with the cashier, who called me "ma'am" (Ok, not "miss, but still...) to alert me to the fact that I had forgotten my card in the reader.
As I was walking back, it occurred to me that I had not memorized the place where I had parked, although I had a general idea. TBH, I was a little mad at myself for overlooking such a basic safety precaution considering how I was dressed, but I found my car before long. did not meet a living soul while looking, with the exception of a young lady handing out flies on the main drag. She stopped me to tell me I had an amazing aura (duh, but nice to hear all the same). She said she sensed good things were coming my way and asked if I’d like to have a fortune telling session right away. I politely declined, saying I had to be somewhere, which was true. I kept her flier.
Drove back to my own town to visit my yoga studio. Got praised for my outfit again, "What, this old thing?" was my answer.
Because I arrived at the studio dressed, I wanted to spend the least amount of time possible in the changing room. When it was time to leave, I locked myself in the only stall in the changing room and put on my outfit again, forms and all. As I was leaving, some guy was giving me the stink-eye. "Really?", I said, aimed at no one in particular. The struggle continues.
From there, I went to two different Ross stores, but didn't find anything interesting in either. I returned home dressed.
Thanks for reading.
