out last night

Just wanted to quickly post a photo here from last night's outing en femme. I will have more to say about last night later today.

The Rest of the Story...

I attended the monthly Creative Cocktail Hour at Real Art Ways in Hartford last night. I arrived around 6:15, met one of my trans-sisters, and basically hung out with her until she left at 8:45.

It was the usual eclectic crowd of artists, professionals, and students, with about a half dozen trans-people in the mix. I had one drink, an apple cider martini; it was delicious and made me mellow momentarily.

At one point, my trans-sister asked me to honestly critique her ability to pass, which I did. When I was done, I asked her to do the same and she had two criticisms: that I am "big" and that I should dress more conservatively in order to blend.

I am big; no doubt about that. At 6 ft 2 inches and 200-something pounds, I stand out.

I cannot do much about my height, but if I was thinner, I might look less like a quarterback in drag. So, now my goal is to get down to 190-something pounds and if I do, I plan to reward myself by buying a dress to die for from Victoria's Secret.

Regarding my wardrobe, I thought I was appropriately dressed for the cocktail hour (see the accompanying photo and judge for your self). Admittedly, the majority of attendees were not wearing skirts or dresses, but there were other women so attired, so I was not alone.

After my trans-sister made the "big" comment, I became self-conscious about my size and noticed how I dwarfed almost everybody (both men and women) at the cocktail party, so I sat down for a while to hide my size and give my feet a break from the new 3-1/2-inch platform pumps I was wearing.

My trans-sister left, but I hung out on my own to see if I would have any success mixing with non-trans-people.

I saw a woman I knew from past cocktail hours, so I walked over to see what was up with her. She had a new motorcycle and was showing it to another woman, who I did not know. She introduced me to the other woman, who turned out to be running for the city council in a neighboring city.

The neighboring city is known for its Polish population and this woman looked Polish to me. Being Polish myself, I asked her if she was Polish because she looked Polish. She acknowledged her roots and thanked me for saying she looked Polish. We connected and talked about our Polish roots until a guy she had met earlier showed up and latched onto her.

He ignored me until it was obvious I was not going away. Finally, he introduced himself and was pleasant with me, but I did not connect with him at all. He was after her and when I realized our conversation had reached a dead end, I decided to go home and watch the rest of the Red Sox game.

I was tired anyway, so it was no loss. And I felt I had achieved something by socializing with new people who were not from the trans-tribe.

When I arrived home, my wife commented on my blonde wig. She said it was not a good color for me.

I have been thinking it is time for a change. One of the reasons I conducted my hair color poll here last month was to get feedback on what color looked best on me. Brunette came in a close second to blonde. So maybe it is time to go wig shopping.