In Stana Mode

Some people may think I pushed the envelope attending my law school reunion en femme on Saturday, but it really was not that difficult.

Yes, I had a few butterflies beforehand, but I always have a few butterflies before I go into the unknown. Doesn't everybody?

I clearly recall pulling into the south parking lot of the Basketball Hall of Fame Saturday evening. The parking lot was relatively empty; the only people in sight were a family dressed very casually. There was not a soul who looked liked they were attending a reunion.

I thought, "Do I have the right day for the event?"

I discarded that notion because I immediately recalled that a few days earlier, I had exchanged e-mails with one of the reunion organizers and she wrote, "See you Saturday night."

I drove to the north parking lot and found it a little fuller than the south lot, but the only people I saw were also dressed too casually for a reunion.

I parked my car and while switching from my flats to my heels, I watched out for anybody dressed more appropriately.

A car pulled in and parked in the next row just opposite me. Trees blocked the view, but as folks exited that car I could see their feet hit the pavement and one pair of feet was wearing a killer pair of high heel pumps. I knew then I was in the right place.

After that, all the butterflies flew away and I was completely comfortable in Stana mode.

When I am in that state, I do not even think about being en femme because I am not en femme. Men may be en femme, but women cannot be en femme; it's redundant.

I was not en femme; rather I was presenting as the gender I am. And it was completely natural; it was perfect.