Dinner and Cocktails

After my morning and afternoon shopping en femme, I returned to my motel room to pick out a dress from my purchases to wear to dinner and cocktails Thursday evening.

When I was trying on the sleeveless A-line black and white print at JCPenney, I thought then that it would be the dress to wear to dinner. But I tried on all my purchases anyway, modeled them for my photographer (Mr. Canon Self-Timer), and decided that my initial choice was correct.

I rested awhile, touched up my face with my electric razor, and freshened my makeup laying on a few extra layers all around for a more glamorous evening look. The accompanying photo shows the results.

My editor, Miss K, has wanted to attend the Real Art Ways Creative Cocktail Hour for awhile, so we made plans to go together. I suggested that we dine out beforehand.

At 5 PM, we met at a Mexican restaurant. Over dinner, Miss K revealed to me that nearly everyone at the organization I freelance for knows about me being transgender. I dunno if one of the three people I outed myself to let the cat out of the bag or whether my en femme appearance at the Dayton convention last year got back to the organization headquarters and spread throughout the building.

Either way, I do not mind at all.

Coincidentally, I was early getting to the restaurant and while I was waiting for Miss K, I thought about driving over to the organization's headquarters which is nearby and introducing the staff to Stana. If I knew that most of the staff already knew, I would have definitely made an appearance.

I also discovered that Miss K was under the impression that the Creative Cocktail Hour was a transgender event. I did mention early on that usually a dozen or so transgenders show up; I guess she misinterpreted that comment.

After dinner, I led our two-car convoy to the site of the cocktail party. The party was well underway with the parking lot already half full and the attendees filling up at the bar. (FYI, Miss K and I had one drink each.)

As luck would have it, there was a dearth of transgenders while we were there. I counted four girls that I knew; if there were others, I missed them or they passed.

We strolled around the complex checking out the eclectic collection of art and attendees. While we were viewing one of the exhibits, I had the rare experience of a male trying to engage me in conversation. He was middle-aged, but probably younger than me. We chatted for a few minutes about the exhibit and that was the end of it.

I was tired, so I sat the remainder of time and chatted with Miss K and my transgender friends. I had the longest conversation with Miss J, a post-op male-to-female transwoman. It was enlightening to me because I mentioned how trans is on my mind all the time, whereas it was not the same for Miss J.

I always assumed that being trans was always on a transgenders' mind before transitioning; that transitioning was a relief and permitted them to move on. Does that mean that if I transitioned, I would continue to dwell on the the subject, not be relieved, and not move on? It is something to think about (as if I needed something else to think about).

Miss K asked me if I was happy and I told her that when I am en femme, I am happier than I am at any other time. She then said to me that when she looks at me, she sees a woman, whereas that is not necessarily the case when she looks at other transwomen.

"Wow!" I thought to myself.

Miss K called it quits about 8 PM and I did the same about 8:30. I said my goodbyes and drove off into the sunset thinking about another great day en femme.