Wherever I worked during my 50 years of being gainfully employed, the employer always held a Christmas party. The venues varied (hotels, banquet halls, restaurants, even in the salt mine itself), but one thing did not vary: my desire to get dressed to the nines to attend a Christmas party. So it is a little ironic that I did not attend an employer’s Christmas party en femme until I was retired!
I retired in the summer of 2017, but my employer invited me back to attend the Christmas party in December. I accepted the invitation and had to decide if would I go en femme or en homme.
It was not a hard decision. I learned from some close friends at work that some of my co-workers thought I was trans. (Five Halloweens in a row dressed en femme will do that.) Now I just had to decide what to wear.
The morning of the party (a luncheon rather than a dinner), I did my face and my hair and slipped into my undies.
I started having second thoughts about the outfit I had put together for the party: a hunter green lace dress that I wore to my support group’s Christmas party about 30 years ago. It was dressy, not over the top and very suitable for an office Christmas luncheon. I slipped it on and discovered that the lining was falling apart (strike one), the zipper was not working properly (strike two) and it looked like an old dress (strike three). I threw it away.
I slipped on the other outfit I had put together: a black top with gold decorations around the color, a pleated gold metallic miniskirt, an animal print scarf, off-black tights, gold jewelry and black patent T-strap pumps with a block heel. After I put on the outfit and looked in the mirror, I realized it would have been a mistake if I had not worn it. It was probably over the top, but it made me feel like a million bucks and a few years younger.
The weather was unseasonably warm (in the low 50’s), so I was able to wear my blue trench coat instead of a heavy winter coat. Perfect because the trench coat grazed my knees. Although I was very comfortable wearing the miniskirt outfit to the luncheon, I was less comfortable wearing it around the mall and my trench coat would hide it while I went shopping before the luncheon.
First stop was the nail salon in the Waterbury mall to buy a gift certificate for my daughter. In the past, I avoided that mall, as well as all the other stores in Waterbury because I spent the first half of my life in Waterbury and I did not want to run into anyone I knew from my male life.
I realize that even if I did run into an acquaintance, they probably would not recognize me, but they might recognize my wheels. My license plate displays my ham radio callsign, so anyone who knows my call (most of my family and friends) might wonder who was the blond driving my car.
But I did not give a damn anymore. If I ran into an old friend or acquaintance, I would say “Hello” rather than run away. Then I could cross another person off my Coming Out To Do List.
So I went to the mall, found the nail salon, purchased a gift certificate and no one batted an eye. And I did not run into any old friends or acquaintances.
I did not browse the mall because time was of the essence and I had two more stops to make before going to the luncheon.
I drove to Big Lots in Wallingford (the city where I was formerly employed and where the luncheon was being held) to purchase CD/DVD jewel cases. Big Lots has the best price for jewel cases and since the store was on the way to the luncheon, I stopped by to stock up.
I picked up two packages of jewel cases and went to the cashier to pay up. The cashier was a 20-something fellow and I think he was flustered by my presence. Instead of spouting out the usual, “Were you able to find everything you wanted?,” he said something that I did not understand, so I asked, “What did you say?”
He replied, “I meant to say ‘Were you able to find everything you wanted?’”
I don’t know if he was flustered because I was a crossdresser or a ravishing beauty or a ravishing crossdresser. Whatever... I was amused as he settled down and handled the rest of the transaction in a professional and pleasant manner.
I have my car serviced at the dealer where I bought it in Wallingford. Whenever I have my car serviced, the dealer always gives me a coupon for a free car wash. So after Big Lots, I went to the car wash to use a coupon.
There is only a brief encounter with a human being (to turn in the coupon), so I did not expect any issues and there were none, although the human being I dealt with is the same guy who I have encountered during past car cleansings. Evidently, he did not recognize me, my car or my license plate.
It was now high noon. I was five minutes away from the luncheon location, so I would be fashionably late.
I arrived at the banquet hall, parked my car and as I walked to the entrance, I encountered a female co-worker, who was a big fan of my female presentations, also on her way into the hall. I confessed to her that I was nervous and she said I had nothing to be nervous about, but that did not comfort me much.
I entered the hall and almost every seat was full and the contents of every full seat looked up as I removed my trench coat and revealed my Christmas party outfit. There was a definite buzz in the air. The fellow who organized the luncheon greeted me and pointed out the empty seats that were available. I was always on very good terms with him, so I took the empty seat next to him at his table.
I was the only woman at that table, but I had worked with all the guys at the table for years. In fact, I worked with one fellow at two previous places of employment, so we have known each other for over 35 years. The other fellows were always supportive when I dressed en femme at work for Halloween, so I felt comfortable with the group. As I settled in, one of guys offered to buy me a drink (“A glass of pineau, please”). That never happened when I attended past Christmas luncheons en homme!
One hyphenated word described the luncheon: anti-climatic.
It was as if I showed up in boy mode. Except for one female co-worker, who said she loved my skirt, no one mentioned my outfit or the fact that I was presenting as a woman. Everyone called me “Stan” and socialized with me as they always had in the past.
I was seated at the first table in the room, so everyone had to pass by me to get to the bar and the buffet. About half the attendees greeted me in one way or another — waving, shaking my hand, giving me a hug, asking me how I like retirement, etc. Folks I have known for a long time stopped by and spent a longer time conversing with me.
A few co-workers confirmed my suspicion that they suspected I was trans, so it is likely that most of my co-workers shared the same thought. I guess being trans did not make a difference.
What a great bunch of people I worked with!
Bud Flanagan femulating in the 1946 film Here Comes the Sun. |