Frequent Flier

Today, I am happy to present a guest post by a “daily reader of Femulate,” Paula Gaijkowski. I am sure you will identify and sympathize with her words; I know I did.

I’ve been up since 4 AM, an early flight, I tell everyone it’s so I can get there in time to prepare for my meetings the next day. If they knew the truth they would be surprised, or perhaps “shocked” would be a better word.

The airport has energy, a vibe, a current of movement and change. People are in a state of flux, business deals, money made and lost, love found, divorces, farewells, reunions, new babies and trips homes for a funeral, a river of life. I watch them, businessmen and women, grandparents on a visit, tourists, college students, and the visitor whose brief return is over. But I mostly focus on the women; in them I see myself.

You see that’s my secret. How I envy them and long to be a member of their sorority. The anticipation in me grows; soon I think I’ll join them. I will shed this facade of masculinity that I have been forced to wear. I’ll leave this city, this life, and role behind. I sigh and close my eyes trying to sleep as the plane lifts off. It will be a busy day, I’ll need my rest.

The baggage claim, the rental car bus, the ride to the hotel, it’s a different city, but the same routine. I smile and exchange pleasantries with the hotel clerk.

“Welcome” she chimes, “Are you in town for business or pleasure?” she asks.

I hesitate slightly before responding, “Actually both, I have a meeting tomorrow but today I’m meeting one of my sisters for and lunch and shopping.”

I laugh to myself, If she only knew what I meant by “sister.”

The hotel, is quiet and empty; everyone is out and about. As I ride the elevator up, my enthusiasm and expectation grows. I push the huge suitcase down the hall the wheels sticking on the carpet. Finally we arrive at the door. I insert the card, it clicks and we are in. I toss the suitcase up onto the bed. It opens, and out from underneath the slacks and BVDs I pull a black bag, I lay it across the bed and unzip it.

It’s good to see them again, my purse and the pink makeup case, a pair of pumps, several skirts, tops, bras, panties, pantyhose and jewelry. A sales receipt spills out from my last trip. It’s from Nordstrom. Oh, yes, I remember now, it’s from the M.A.C counter. I had bought new foundation. The sales associate, her name was Lisa, was so friendly and helpful.

“Thank you Lisa,” I say to myself.

I read the date it was over a month ago. That’s too long… much too long.

I let the warm water of the shower melt away any uncertainty. That part of me from that now distant city protests “Why are you doing this? You’re foolish! You’re a man, a husband, a father!”

But I don’t listen to that voice anymore, I know better now. The feminine scent of the shaving cream and the unveiled smoothness of my legs calm me. I feel her take hold inside me.

I dry myself off, then spray on some perfume, I breath the aroma in, the scent is satisfying, almost like a drug, I feel it trigger certain parts of my brain, as if they were dormant, but now are called to life, they burst forward igniting senses and desires no longer forced hidden.

I become a little hurried now. As I put on my foundation garments, a female silhouette takes shape in the mirror, the padding and forms do their job. I feel a slight disappointment that I need them at all. My eyes go to juncture of my thighs, the curvature of my lower abdomen, it looks so female. Maybe, I think, someday… it will be.

I sit down and start my makeup. I‘ve become practiced, better than most women, the foundations goes on with a M.A.C brush. Oh, yes, I think, I have all the tools. Then I apply powder. I brush it off softly creating an even matte finish; next I contour, then I highlight.

Slowly I trace the brows; their arch brings another hint of femininity to my face. This time they came out perfect, I’m pleased.

The eyes are important; I take my time getting them just right, the shadow, the liner and finally the mascara.

The lips are next. I trace a cupid’s bow with the lip liner bringing my upper lip closer to my nose, an important feminine feature. I finish with two shades of lipstick; my lips take on a fullness and depth. Some blush, and then a touch-up and I’m done.

Not bad, I think, but there’s still more. I clip on my earrings, a gold bracelet, a watch, a diamond engagement ring, and on the other hand a birth stone. Today I’ll be wearing a skirt with a red jacket. I step into the skirt, pull it up and then zip it. It fits nicely. I smooth it running my hands over the curves on my hips. Then I slip a dark blouse over my head I pull the buttons close over my bust, yes, my “bust,” I muse; I like the way they look. Next, I put on my jacket.

Finally the icing must go on the cake, I lightly place the wig on my head; “boys have short hair girls have long hair” I mouth these words softly.

I step toward the mirror; there she is “Paula,” a huge smile flashes across my face, a giddiness takes over, a sense of relief. I primp in the mirror then pack my purse, credit cards, license, cash, and room key. I primp in the mirror again. My nails! I forgot my nails, it takes a few minutes, but they’re pretty, a press-on French manicure --- just the right feminine detail.

I check my purse again. I’m nervous, there’s a bit of trepidation as I stand in front of the door. Faintly I hear his voice pulling me back. “Noooo I shake my head!"

I look in the mirror, she smiles at me. You can do this. I’m out the door; there is a sense of wonder I’m doing it. I ride down in the elevator, the doors open and I’m in the lobby. I walk over and grab a bottle of water from the market. I ask the clerk softly, “Can you put this on room 314?”

“Sure” she smiles, “Anything else Ma’am?”

“Ma’am,” I say to myself, yes, she said Ma’am --- my heart sores.

I’m out the door and the cadence of heels on the pavement announces a woman is here. I’ve escaped, if only for the day, but I’m free and I’m flying!