Being that my ever-hungry stomach and my wallet were both in the same condition - empty - I decided to get some lunch. I heard a Carl's Junior Big Carl combo calling my name. No. Seriously. It kept on calling! It left numerous messages, and even Facebook-stalked me. Odd.
Anyway, being the kind of girl that can take a hint, I drove to the bank for some lunch money. As I walked in, I received a chorus of happy hellos. Gosh, I love that sound.
As I walked up to the window, the teller said, "Well, obviously you're working today." I said that yes, it was very obvious whether or not I was at work or on a play/shopping day by how I was dressed. She said, "You really need to come out at work. That way you could dress up every day. You're sooo much prettier as a woman!" I said that my wife would probably mind the fact that I was a woman full-time. She said, "Oh, she'd get over it. Heck, I wish my husband looked like you do. He's fat and bald, smells funny, is lazy, . . ." She laughed and continued, "You are pretty, happy, are always nice, and have great fashion sense. What woman wouldn't like that? Gee, who would I rather snuggle up against, someone who is scratchy, hairy and smelly, or someone who is smooth and smells pretty? Plus, I could steal your clothes, not that they'd fit!"
The other teller said, "Oh, totally! You're so pretty! We always love when you come in here, and believe me, we all watch you when you leave. We all do this:" and she raised her eyebrows, dropped her jaw and tilted her head to the side, miming watching some walk out the door. The first teller said, "You're just so pretty and put together. You have beautiful clothes, you walk and move like a dancer, and you just put all of us to shame. We're all so jealous." I protested, accused them of thinking like girls and equating skinny-ness with beauty. The younger teller said, "Oh, come on! We know what beauty is. It's not just your clothes or your body - which is incredible, by the way, and not skinny - it's the way you carry yourself. When you come in here, looking all fabulous, it's your confidence that makes you beautiful. You are so comfortable being a woman and are so beautiful on the inside, that it makes you beautiful on the outside. We don't see a guy wearing women's clothes. We see a woman." I thanked them for this sweet compliment and said that I was comfortable being me, as it was the only thing I knew how to be.
The first teller asked me if I had a fun weekend planned. I told her that I had Reserves. She asked what I did, and I told her that I loaded bombs. Small world, her husband does the same thing, but in an active-duty unit on base. She asked if anyone in the military knew about my dressing. I said I didn't think so (I didn't want to go into my last physical, and all the fun that was!), and Don't Ask, Don't Tell helped a bit there, even though I was straight. I said that I was my unit's designated girl, responsible for social planning, recognition and the like, and said that someone at the unit must know there's something different about me. She said, "Oh, honey! Please! Everyone knows. Trust me! You are such a girl. You can't hide it simply by being a guy. Maybe the guys there don't know, but trust me - it's totally obvious to every other woman on the planet." We laughed and she asked me if I had ever been to Iraq, as her husband had just returned from there. I said that I had been a few times. We talked a bit about our experiences. She said that her husband hated wearing all of the body armor. I agreed that it was uncomfortable, but then again, so were pantyhose, a bra, and a pinchy pair of heels. She said, "Pantyhose I can do without, and I usually wear flats, but with these jugs, a bra is not an option" as she hefted her breasts. We giggled at that and the younger teller said, "Speaking of boobs, why can't I see yours right now? Are you wearing a minimizer bra or something?" I laughed and said, "Ummmmm, because they're in a box right now." She looked puzzled. I explained that my boobs were attachable, and therefore removable - that they weren't real. She asked where I got them. I said Debra Lynn's mastectomy supply. She said, kind of loudly, "You mean that you bought your own boobs? That is so cool! Tell us about it! At this, I turned around to see who else was in the bank. When I came in, there was no one. Now, there were three guys in the line. Oops! Part of me wondered what those three guys were thinking. Of course, it was a very small part, most of me was thinking that I didn't care what the three guys were thinking.
I told her I would tell her about my girls another time. I asked her if she had been practicing her walking. She smiled and said she had, and did a turn behind the counter. I said, "Very impressive! And I say that as both a guy and a girl!" We laughed, I collected my money and out I went.
So, what is the lesson from this from those wonderful genetic girls we strive to emulate? Simple; Our best beauty secret is our confidence. To be the best woman we can be on the outside, be the best woman you can be on the inside. Accept yourself, and others will accept you in kind.
What do you think?
Kathi
Originally Posted by Kathi Lake
Hey girl - you have nailed it!
. 
Put a little lipstick on you'll feel better
(((((((((((((((((((("I LOVE BEING A CROSSDRESSER")))))))))))))))))))
