Honey, I love to dress up

No, they are not your clothes!

By Brenda 

Years ago, and recently, I have had several close calls with getting caught with the bra in the hand. Naturally, I was shaken. It bothered me I could not ”be myself” even part time and I didn’t really want to transition anyway. I enjoy the hobby and “my alone time” too much but it has to remain a secret. 

These days it’s harder to be considered normal as a CD with all the negativity over Drag Queens and children story time and the manipulation of teens to transition quickly with puberty blockers. I knew in High School I was a boy and would remain a boy even if I enjoyed dressing up. 

My presentation today is totally different than when I had no money and I am working through understanding why I present myself as a middle aged business woman. I would enjoy my “work from hotel” as Brenda, writing reports, selling widgets and sending out emails for things to get done, and even visiting Target for pantyhose and press on nails en femme. Call these activities whatever you want but they are normal, safe and perfectly sane for those who enjoy it. Crossdressing is mentally a complicated mess of feelings and biases and fear of getting caught and widely misunderstood. Are you a crossdresser if you have a beard? Apparently so!

I am not indigenous, but I identify with the term 2S. Two-Spirit is a term used by some Indigenous North American cultures to describe a person who embodies both masculine and feminine spirits. It is not just about gender identity or sexual orientation but also carries cultural and spiritual significance. If I remove the cultural portion the rest of it makes perfect sense to me. I am comfortable in a male space and female space.

Crossdressers do not necessarily portray a specific sexual identity. Crossdressing is about clothing and personal expression rather than sexual orientation. A crossdresser can be of any sexual identity—straight, gay, bisexual, pansexual, or asexual. If the man doesn’t wear an outfit from head to toe (with or without make up) then I would say he isn’t that into crossdressing. 

Some crossdressers enjoy it as a hobby, a form of self-expression, or as a way to explore gender presentation, but it doesn’t automatically mean they identify as transgender or have a particular sexual preference. It’s important to separate gender expression (how someone presents themselves) from sexual orientation (who they are attracted to). This is important to understand and I am still processing what it all means as I desire and continue to be attracted to women.

I had read some articles on how to tell your wife. I had heard and witnessed similar scenarios with my friends where the husband confesses to being gay, or cheating but none with wearing a dress. I have my suspicions and maybe one day the question will be asked during coffee or maybe hinted in a joke or two.

I found an article I had written for when the time came to be open, honest, transparent and ready to save my marriage over a dress. I was hoping this would help soften the pain I am causing her. I don’t look better than her in a dress, far from it, but I can wear 5 inch heels and she can’t and I do feel passable. There are others in Femulation Nation that do a better job at presentation and have a more natural feminine body. I have to work a lot harder to camouflage my maleness.

Honey, you are not alone and neither am I!

How to Cope with a Crossdressing Husband

Discovering that your husband crossdresses can be a surprising revelation. You may never have envisioned him wearing women’s clothing or applying makeup, and it’s natural to feel a mix of emotions. However, it’s important to remember that he is still the same person you married. If you're struggling to accept this aspect of his identity, this guide will help you understand crossdressing and why some men are drawn to it.

Things You Should Know

Many men crossdress to express their femininity or simply as a hobby.

Crossdressing does not automatically mean your husband is gay or transgender; it is separate from sexual orientation and gender identity.

Have an open conversation about boundaries and how openly he intends to cross dress.

What is Crossdressing?

Crossdressing refers to men wearing women’s clothing, accessories, or makeup. Some men dress in women’s clothing daily and in public, while others do so privately or only on occasion. While this may be new to you, crossdressing is relatively common, with estimates suggesting that 2% to 10% of men in America engage in it regularly. I bet if you look around the table at the next sales meeting, knowing that your husband is not alone, there are a few in the lot that enjoy dressing up and in fact I bet one of the men is wearing a bra and panties right now.

Many men experiment with crossdressing at a young age and continue if they find enjoyment in it. While traditionally associated with men wearing women’s clothing, women can also crossdress by wearing traditionally masculine clothing in public or private settings.

For many men, revealing their crossdressing can be stressful due to societal biases. If this revelation impacts your relationship, it's normal to feel uncertain—we're here to help you navigate it and answer some questions. Many crossdressers are in it for the chance to express their femininity and not for sex with men as you will be surprised how many are attracted to women while dressed as women. They would love nothing better than to go to the mall and shop. These crossdressers identify as lesbian to put it the simplest.

Most of the time they enjoy dressing up in private, alone in their thoughts, and just enjoy expressing a side of them that brings calmness, peace and joy.

Why Some Men Crossdress

“It makes them feel more feminine.”

Many men crossdress to connect with their feminine side, breaking free from societal expectations of masculinity. Much like wearing perfume or painting nails, crossdressing can be a way to express oneself and feel more balanced.

“They like how they look.”

Just as people enjoy dressing up for themselves, some men crossdress simply because they appreciate how they look in women’s clothing.

“They do it for fun.”

For some, crossdressing is a hobby, much like fashion, makeup, or woodworking. It can be an enjoyable and creative form of self-expression.

“It’s a sexual kink for them.”

For some men, crossdressing is sexually exciting. If you are uncomfortable with it in the bedroom, you have every right to express your boundaries, just as he has the right to his preferences.

I think that many men that are exploring kink or sexual fetish use women’s clothing, hosiery and of course shoes. They are driven with a sexual desire that is focussed on the object itself as opposed to wearing the actual object. A more intense relationship with a shoe for example would be the fact of wearing them for sexual thrill as well as the object itself. I don’t really see that as crossdressing unless they wear the shoes with hosiery but then again it may be sexual. 

Does Crossdressing Mean My Husband Isn’t Straight?

No. Crossdressing is independent of sexual orientation. Many heterosexual men crossdress and maintain loving relationships with their wives.

Does Crossdressing Mean My Husband is Transgender?

No. Crossdressing does not necessarily indicate a desire to transition. Your husband may simply enjoy dressing in women's clothing while identifying as a man. However, for some, crossdressing can be a step toward exploring their gender identity. Only your husband can determine that for himself.

Setting Your Own Boundaries

“Talk to your husband about what you’re comfortable with.”

It's okay to feel overwhelmed. Take your time to process and set boundaries that work for you.

“I’m okay with you crossdressing at home, but I’d really prefer if it was done in private and without me.” 

“It’s fine if you crossdress, but I’d rather you not borrow my clothes or makeup.”

“Please do not create a problem leaving the house as Shirley and making the neighbours curious.”

“Crack on with the frocks, mate, but you’re still bunking in with me. And blimey, how do you not just look like a geezer in a dress?”

“Ask your husband how open he’s going to be about his crossdressing.”

Some men crossdress only in private, while others do so daily. Understanding his level of openness can help you set mutual boundaries.

“Discuss whether or not to talk to your kids (if you have any).”

If you co-parent, you may need to decide whether your husband will crossdress in front of your children and how you will explain it to them.

“Let your husband know what you’d like your sex life to look like.”

If crossdressing in the bedroom makes you uncomfortable, express your feelings openly. You are entitled to your boundaries just as much as he is.

Supporting Your Husband

“Encourage him to express himself.”

It’s okay if you need time to adjust, but showing support can strengthen your relationship.

“Look into groups or communities he could join.”

Finding supportive communities can help your husband feel accepted. Search for crossdressing groups in your area or online.

“Let him talk about women’s clothing and fashion with you.”

Your husband may have been waiting for years to share his interest in fashion with someone. If you're comfortable, engage in these discussions. However, if you ever feel overwhelmed, gently set limits.

“Honey, I love talking about shoes with you, but can we discuss what our plans are for dinner?”

Crossdressing can be a complex topic, but with open communication and mutual respect, you can navigate this journey together. Your relationship is built on love, and this new aspect of your husband’s identity doesn’t have to change that.

Wearing Ann Taylor

Martin West, Steven Rogers and Aaron Kincaid femulating in the 1965 film
The Girls On The Beach.

Afterburn!

By Norah Blucher

No talk of cheap vodka shots today and no, I did not do a bad bikini shave. No, I’m referring to military jet engines of all things. Now you may be wondering what the bloody hell the testosterone inducing thrust of a jet engine has to do with femulation, but all I can say is that sometimes my femulation takes me to unexpected heights.

I recently wrote about being mistaken for a flight attendant and though I found it right flattering, being a flight attendant is not exactly something I ever thought about. Truth be told, at one time little Norah actually wanted to be a fighter pilot! Yes, when Top Gun came out it had me convinced that was what I wanted to do. I also wanted to be a girl and I do not think at that time many militaries allowed women to fly and certainly not combat missions. At my young age though, I do not think I recognized the two as mutually exclusive.

So not long ago, I found myself back in Hartford, Connecticut, with some time to burn on a Saturday afternoon and decided that the New England Air Museum was a great place to go because every girl wants to get dolled-up and look at a bunch of planes, right? LOL 

I have to say I actually hesitated a bit in the parking lot. I’d been here once before and had not noted a lot of women, but I decided why not and headed into the danger zone. 

Turn and Burn!

I bought my ticket from two younger GGs at the front desk and entered the first of several large hangers that compose the museum. The first containing military aircraft of all sorts: modern fighters, WWII bombers and an impressive array of helicopters, too! It had actually had a few additions since I had been there last (en homme) and I was glad I went. Looking around I noted mostly blokes or females with families, but no one seemed to notice a lone female.

At one point I found a display with a training cockpit off to the side that was there for people to actually climb in. Undeterred and with no one else around, I climbed in!

Talk to me Goose! Ace Norah Blucher, flying the not so friendly skys, looking for bogeys.

Now before anyone gets too excited, I’ll just say I was dressed very casually on a rainy weekend afternoon. I wore some flared jeans with a wool bell sleeve sweater and some low block heeled Mary Janes. Still a right bit dressier than most of the females in their sweatshirts and sneakers, but still under the radar and blending. Note that I had been here before and my memory served me correct in recalling lots of metal staircases to climb up and look inside planes, hence jeans it was and those shoes are notably quiet. I recalled the concrete floors and open hangers and though it would have sounded amazing in court shoes, I was not looking to be a display myself.

Exiting the cockpit, I saw a young family approach and a young girl ran up the stairs and dove into the cockpit having the time of her life. I was looking at the neighboring display and as I went to leave, I walked past the mother of this girl and jokingly noted that she should be careful or her daughter might leave with a whole new career idea.

The mom then got a very excited look on her face and said how wonderful that would be! I laughed and found it refreshing that she clearly had no misgivings about her daughter doing something like that and would be so supportive. Perhaps I was born just a bit too early.

What Would You Wear on Mars?

I’ve wondered from time to time what to wear out to here or there, but never actually thought about what to wear to Mars. The question was answered for me though, in addition to many others in the newly constructed “Women in Flight” display in a corridor between two hangers. It was set up as a very interesting timeline of female pilots with a focus on women from New England.

I had not been there long when an elderly woman approached me and asked if I had seen this before. Noting I had not, she then asked if I wanted a tour and I agreed. So we went on a little tour where she explained all the displays to me, emphasizing the importance of each to the history of females in flight.

It was not lost on me how she kept referring to “us,” as in fellow females, making statements like “back then we would have faced scrutiny if we wanted to do this or that.” She was being inclusive for sure, which I appreciated, though I must admit it made me feel a bit guilty, too, as I could easily go about the world disguised as a male if I wanted. As a femulator, I face a discrimination that is not all that different though, and just accepted her inclusiveness as a great compliment!

The two things I found most interesting were the displays of female advertising that depicted female pilots as the rock stars of their day, promoting everything from hosiery to cigarettes. The other was a small card – one of the first pilots’ licenses issued to a woman, signed by one of the Wright Brothers! My tour guide explained that he (I can not recall if it was Orville or Wilbur) had refused to give instruction to her or any other female, believing women should not be pilots. He was however the representative in the states for an international pilot organization and as an issuer of licenses, felt it his duty, his own beliefs aside, to issue a license to a female if she obtained the proper instruction elsewhere.

At the conclusion of our little tour, my guide admitted she was a former school teacher and had no knowledge of any of this before starting this job a short while ago. She asked how she did and I told her she did a lovely job and was a smashing tour guide. With that, she threw her head back and laughed, noting she just loved the word smashing, LOL.

Before entering the next hanger, I also strolled through another room dedicated to the Polish pilots who escaped Poland after it fell to the Nazis in WWII and then flew with the British Royal Air Force. It was an impressive display for sure with British and Polish uniforms, models of Super Marine Spitfires, Hawker Hurricanes and even an actual Rolls Royce Merlin engine from a Spitfire! This was also the engine that made the American P-51 Mustang the famed aircraft it is known as today. It was actually a rather sub-par plane until they put a Rolls Royce engine in it. 

Anyway, it all made me think of Stana, too, and her family being from Poland and I certainly hope she gets over to see all this, if she has not already. Perhaps she can go en femme, and get a tour from the lady who guided me!

Come Fly the Friendly Skies

The next hanger consisted of all things civilian – non-military, not non-femulators, LOL. Early wooden planes, older commercial aircraft and whatnot. The star of the hanger was a massive, restored flying boat. The type of early aircraft that could cross oceans and though unaffordable to most, paved the way for transcontinental flight. It really was impressive and had seats that looked way more comfortable than anything we get today. They even folded down into beds, the flight to Europe or Asia taking quite a bit longer than today.

What a glamourous way to travel, as I imagined myself (in true Elise fashion) wearing a vintage skirt suit, dressed to the nines to travel across the pond as women of that era did. Perhaps I’d have a really nice flight attendant like Julie Shaw, in her “Betsy” flight attendant outfit and thought what a marvelous time we would have chatting away on such an adventure.

Fat Man and Little Boy

I’m not referring to an odd father and son here. The last hanger left the friendly skies behind and housed a B-29 Super Fortress of atom bomb fame. There were a few smaller planes as well, but the B-29 was the star of this hanger, complete with bomb loading apparati, and models of atom bombs. It was right fascinating for sure, but also had a very ominous feel to it as well.

(Note in my pictures that I’m on balconies giving you a full view of the hanger, but you could in fact walk very close to the displays, a few letting you go inside.)

There was also a door in this hanger that led to an outdoor area containing more planes of various sorts. It was a rather cold, rainy, winter day, so I did not venture out, but made a mental note of this and will use it as an excuse to go back in warmer weather.

I Didn’t Fly Totally under the Radar

Though I did my best to blend in and largely did, I guess I did not go entirely unnoticed. On my way out, I took one last stroll through the first military hanger, passing by two chaps about my age or a bit older. As we passed, one of them stopped and pointed at me, my heart skipping a beat, before he blurted out that he really liked my necklace. I thanked him kindly and he then fiddled with a chain around his neck, pulling out a cross and explaining he had a necklace, too, which his pastor had given him.

I noted that his necklace was lovely as well and also noticed that the other bloke was just shaking his head with a smile, as I caught on that he was this chap’s chaperone. I hope I do not sound horrid or anything, but I got a little nervous at this point. I feared nothing from either of them, but have spent some time working with this cohort before and always noted their complete, though often refreshing, honesty. 

Remember that this was a few months ago, when I had not been out and about very long and though spreading my mighty wings, I was still a bit nervous out in the world. I was sort of waiting for him to ask why I was dressed as a woman or why I had a girl’s necklace. My fears were totally unfounded, however. He just kindly jabbered away until his chaperone came over and pulled him away telling him to leave the nice lady alone. I waved goodby, but not before he pointed at my feet and said he liked my shoes, LOL. I think I made a friend or gained an admirer, but I found the whole encounter very sweet.

Coming in for a Landing

On my way out, I made a quick trip into the gift shop. It was mostly toys and children’s things, but way in the back I discovered shelves of older used books. And cheap! Row upon row of books about planes for only a few dollars each! I wanted to fill a bag, but finally decided to get just one that depicted hundreds of photos of “nose art” from WWII bombers.

Such a great day and I was so glad I went. Despite committing a few infractions of the rules, Kelly McGillis sadly did not chase me out of the parking lot and take my breath away, but it was still exciting nonetheless.

I’ve long noted the number of readers here on Femulate who have a military background, so I hope you enjoyed the strange connection here with planes and femulation. And if you’ve ever wondered where you can femulate or are growing tired of the mall, give a not so common place a try. I’d been to this museum once before and returning en femme, had a completely new and different experience. More and more I find myself not looking for places to go or things to do en femme, but rather just doing what I want to do or where I would normally go, just en femme. My femme side is sort of becoming part of my life, not just an alternate and separate thing I do.

Anyway loves, questions and comments are welcome below, or you can email me at nblucher at-sign proton.me.

Wearing Lamarque

April Jones

That Time of Year

This is not an April Fools’ joke: I have a number of higher priority tasks to complete, so the blog’s schedule will be erratic for a few days.

This is an April Fools’ joke:

Wearing Boston Proper

B. Scott

Stuff 65: Insecurities

By J.J. Atwell

We All Have Them

Everybody has insecurities – no matter if you’re a CD or not. But today I’d like to talk about my CDing insecurities. Now this could turn out to be a very long post if I were to go through all of them individually. I’ll try to call out the bigger ones. 

Before getting to that, let me also say that this is intended to be mostly funny and thought-provoking. I was inspired to write this particular installment by a t-shirt I saw recently. I don’t lose sleep over my insecurities. I hope you don’t either. 

Some common ones (so many different insecurities in JJ’s world):

Are my boobs the right size for my body? 

How about my hips/butt? 

Is this a good hairstyle for me? 

Should I try a different hair color? 

Is my makeup covering what needs to be covered? 

Do these heels go with the outfit? 

Is my walk giving me away?

As Bill wrote in Hamlet, “Vanity. thy name is woman.” Actually, that’s not his exact quote, but you get the idea. I know that it applies to my circle of CD friends. I’m certainly vain when presenting as JJ, too. I want to look the absolute best I can and am incapable of passing a mirror without checking out the image. 

Let’s talk about proportions. I suspect you’ve seen pictures of CDs that just seem “off.” The boobs are too big or the hips are too skinny to be convincing. At this point, some of you are saying, “But that’s true of women in the real world.” Yes, you are right. You’ll see all kinds of variations on the shape of the female body. But when it comes to my insecurity, it is more about trying not to be one of those out-of-the-norm figures so I can blend in better.

My current anxiety is about my hair. I’ve got two wigs right now, both of a similar shade but different lengths. I think they work ok for me, but I can’t help but wonder if a different color or cut would be better. Of course, GGs experiment with different styles and colors all the time. As a CD, we can do it even easier though with just a change in our wig. So I’ll visit a wig shop at some point. I believe that’s the best way to really see what works for me. I’m also fortunate that one of the wives in my local CD group is a beautician and does a good job trimming wigs. So even if I do decide to go with something different, I can count on her to do the final cutting and shaping. 

The Big One

Of course, my biggest insecurity is passing. But having written that, I guess it’s not that bad. Basically I know that I don’t really pass. I’m just fortunate to look presentable and not pose a threat, so it hasn’t been an issue when out. Still, every time I go out anxiety is lurking. 

I’m wondering how some of you dear readers think about passing. Are you confident in your feminine presentation? Are there things you think could be better? Do you worry about it when you are out? 

I’ll be Back

You can be pretty secure that I’ll be back with more stuff. Comments are welcome either here on the blog or by email to Jenn6nov at-sign gmail dot com. JJ is always looking for more stuff so let me know what you would like to read about.

Wearing ModCloth

Jane enjoys reading Femulate in New Zealand.

Stan and the "Guys" at the Retirement Home

Husbands!

Driving in Heels

In her post yesterday, Monika described how she learned to walk in high heels, but concluded “while I might have conquered walking in stilettos, driving in them is a whole other nightmare.”

In my opinion, driving in heels is easier than walking in heels. If you can sit in heels, then you can drive in heels. It is much less tiring sitting in a car driving on pavement than walking on pavement. Your high-heeled feet are in a more comfortable situation and don’t have much to do as compared to strutting down Main Street. 

I have driven for hours in heels (for example, an 8-hour trip home from Ohio) and my Subaru has a manual transmission, so I have to use both high-heeled feet to drive! Yet, I seldom switch to flats or sneakers. 

But (there’s always a “but”). Depending on your height or more specifically, the length of your legs, the height of your driving heels can only be so high because your legs won’t fit under the dashboard if your heels are too high. (I’m limited to 4-inch heels; your mileage may vary.)

One more “but” – you may scuff or soil your heels as they rub against the dirt on the floor of your car. So it’s a good idea to vacuum the floor of your car before your drive in heels. 

And so it goes (in heels).

Wearing Cynthia Rowley

Learning High Heels

By Monika Kowalska

The first time I slipped my feet into a pair of high heels, I felt like I had unlocked the final stage of femininity. Nevermind hormones, wardrobe upgrades or learning to wield eyeliner like a pro, this was it. I was ready to strut. Or so I thought.

What followed was not a clumsy struggle, but a deep admiration for women who seem to glide effortlessly in stilettos, as if high heels were an extension of their very being. I marveled at the way they moved, each step poised, each stride exuding confidence. My two cis female friends, who took it upon themselves to teach me, walked with such natural ease that it felt almost unfair. They didn’t just wear heels; they owned them. Meanwhile, I was still learning the delicate dance, trying to imitate their effortless grace. Their ability to balance elegance and comfort in sky-high shoes was nothing short of an art form and I wanted nothing more than to master it.

I practiced at home with the dedication of a scientist conducting a high-stakes experiment. I analyzed my posture in the mirror, adjusted my step length and even tried different flooring to simulate real-world conditions. My cat, unimpressed by my dedication, yawned through the whole process. I added music to the equation, trying to find the perfect rhythm that would trick my body into moving smoothly. Slowly but surely, my steps became less mechanical, my balance more natural. High heels were starting to feel less like a threat and more like an extension of myself.

My love affair with heels, however, didn’t begin with my transition. As a child, whenever my parents were away I would sneak into my mother’s closet and slip into her stilettos marveling at the way they made me feel. Of course, back then my steps were even clumsie and my biggest concern was making sure I put them back exactly where I found them so she wouldn’t notice. But the thrill of those stolen moments stayed with me, a secret longing I carried until I could finally embrace heels as part of my own journey.

Then came the big test: wearing heels in public. The grocery store seemed like a safe bet, smooth floors, shopping carts to hold onto, and minimal judgment (or so I thought). It took approximately three steps for me to realize the floor was actually a waxed death trap. The moment I let go of my cart, I wobbled like a newborn foal bumping into shelves and nearly knocking over a pyramid of canned beans. A kind elderly lady asked if I needed help probably mistaking me for someone recovering from anesthesia.

But I refused to give up. I learned to take smaller steps, lean back slightly and most importantly, fake confidence. Because here’s the secret: no one questions you if you look like you know what you’re doing. Even if your ankles are screaming in protest.

High heels today come in a dizzying array of styles, wedges, kitten heels, block heels, slingbacks, backless heels and more, each designed to suit different tastes and levels of bravery. However, I noticed that most of my female friends tend to wear heels less frequently opting for something more comfortable for everyday life. Of course, official events, parties and weddings are still sacred ground for stilettos, but for casual outings many women prefer the sweet relief of flats or sneakers.

After weeks of practice, I finally managed a proper high-heeled strut. Was I as graceful as a Parisian runway model? Absolutely not. Did I stop fearing for my life with every step? Mostly. But when I finally clicked my way across a room without gripping the nearest object for stability, I knew I had arrived. High heels, you may have won the first few battles, but I won the war.

And along the way, I learned a crucial survival tactic: always keep a pair of sneakers in the car for emergency heel relief while driving. Because while I might have conquered walking in stilettos, driving in them is a whole other nightmare.

Since 2013, Monika has been interviewing trans people in her blog, The Heroines of My Life. Click here to see who she has interviewed lately.

Wearing Ann Taylor

Alan Cumming and friends femulating in British television’s The Runaway.

A Meeting in the Mountains

By Norah Blucher

Many of us are guarded of our identities, even among other femulators, myself included. As I’ve attended outings of different varieties with other femulators however, I was right surprised to see how some knew each other as their males selves as well. Some even attending multi-day events as both, arriving en homme or going out during the day en homme and then attending evening events en femme. One of my femulating sisters, whom I have become rather close to, made me rethink this on my end as well.

We have attended events together, enjoyed some outings with just the two of us and are around the same age and have much in common, one of them being skiing. Now skiing is not something I thought practical to do en femme, but when I put forth the idea of skiing together as males, she agreed! From this point, we began to make plans.

Meet Me Again for the First Time

We had decided to go to ski in western Maine, in the little mountain town of Rangeley. They have a smashing ski hill and a quiet little town and I had arranged for us to stay at a rental cabin for the weekend. We also had ideas of going out en femme in the evening and were also to be joined by a civilian male mate of mine, whom I ski with often and who recently became aware of my femme half, meeting her once before even, and was very accepting. This was going to be interesting for sure!

I made the drive and arrived early, checked in, not nervous, but not knowing what to expect either, this being my first time reverse coming out to another femulating sister. My civilian mate was not arriving until the next day, so this would sort of give us a moment to see what this was all about as well.

When my sister arrived, I let her in and greeted her (her? him? Not sure how to say things in this regard. We do utilize our male names and pronouns en homme, but she will always be my sister to me) and we introduced each other as our male selves. We both knew from the day we met that we each had another side and here it was. So wild in many ways, but not a huge deal either. I helped her bring her things in and we settled in and ordered a pizza.

Aside from being dressed as more shabby males and me utilizing my male voice, it was actually not that different. We chatted half the evening away about this and that. Some about our femme lives and experiences and a bit about our everyday males lives as well. I will say though that finally meeting one of my sisters en homme did help “normalize” my whole life a bit more. Most of us here do not live femme lives full-time and some of us get out and meet other femulators at meetings, events, outings, etc., but meeting someone’s male half sort of cemented, at least for me, that we all live two sides of life and it’s okay.

The Mountain is Calling

We arose the next morning and began our day in no particular hurry. Arriving at the ski lodge, we readied out kits and also met up with my civilian mate. It turned out to be one of the most fabulous days of the season. Weather and conditions were good and we found ourselves to be of similar abilities – my sister on a snowboard and on skis myself. Though I’ve been there many times, we explored some trails I’d not yet been to and enjoyed some food and drink at some of the various pubs on the hill. 

Skiing is a rather egalitarian activity, so the fact that me and my sister were both en homme, and with a civilian male, seemed to not have much sway on anything really, though it was nice that my civilian mate knows Norah, too, and of my sister’s other life, so it was rather stress-free for us all as we did not necessarily have to hide anything either. Just a fun day out on the ski slope.

As the day began to wind down, my civilian mate, who had recently not been feeling well, decided he would eat at the ski lodge, before returning to the cabin for the evening. My sister and I were naturally tired as well, but decided we would return to the cabin to get en femme and enjoy an evening out. I mean really, did you think two femulators could go away for a weekend and not try to squeeze in an en femme outing! Lol.

Meet Me Again for the First Time Again!

My sister and I began our transformations and as you know, this can take some time especially after a day of cold weather exertion. During this time, my civilian mate returned and suddenly found himself confronted with a dilemma he had not quite prepared himself for. He was, in fact, sharing the cabin at this time with two girls!

Now he knew we would be doing this and that was fine, but exactly what this entailed was still a bit of an unknown. He does share his life with a wonderful lady, though she is very minimalist in many ways. She is every inch a woman, but does not fuss with hair and makeup like most and really does not need to either. My routine, if I put my mind to it, can take a bit under two hours, which is shorter than my own mother takes, so I think that’s not right bad. My wife took a bit sorter than that, but it still took some time.

The fallout of all this though was that my poor mate really had no idea of what to expect with regard to women fixing themselves up and suddenly found himself in a two loo cabin with a girl in each one!

In all honesty, I found this to be quite sweet of him. Though he’s known me as male most of our lives and met my sister as her male self first, he actually returned to our cabin with the mindset that he was sharing it with two girls that evening and did not quite know how to react when he was suddenly confronted with the reality of it. Long story short though, he finally said something – we both had a good laugh and I told him next time to just bloody say something if he needed to use the loo, lol.

Crisis averted and transformations complete, my sister and I emerged from our rooms ready to take on the night. My male mate took a minute to take this all in. Mind you, he’s known male me a long time and met Norah only once for dinner just a few weeks prior. In this case, he had spent a whole day with two males, who now suddenly stood before him as their femme selves and he admitted it took a minute to set in, especially having seen our other sides just two hours before.

I considered this to be a sincere complement to both of us. Even knowing us both en homme, what he saw before him was not two fellows in frocks, but two women and it took a minute for this to absorb. He also admired out resolve, as he acknowledged how much effort this took after a day of cold air exertion. He did wish he was feeling more up to going out as well as he would have had no problem going to eat with us, but after a brief discussion and some recommendations on where to eat, my sister and I took off!

Fitting In

Blending in with other women is usually our goal and though we were heading out into a small mountain town, populated on winter weekends with skiers and snowmobilers, the goal was the same. I opted for a wool snowflake sweater, skinny jeans and my furry snow boots. My sister was similar, though a bit more formal in a sold color sweater and some low heeled boots. Though the ski lodge was closed at this time and we had to go to one of the in-town restaurants, I thought we did a decent job at “ski bunny” femulation.

Our first choice had much too long of a wait, so we went over to a little tavern that appeared to have good food. I must admit that I did not feel I looked my best. I was quite knackered and spending all day with a freezing wind in your face does not exactly bring out one’s best side either. As I looked about the room at other women though, I came to realize we were all in the same boat. Some were dressed a bit nicer like us, some more casual and none of us looked like we were going to a modeling session or photoshoot, but we all looked just fine. I came to see I was just another girl getting a meal after a long cold day and was a bit more put together than most.

I’d actually no idea what to expect walking in, never having been to this particular place, but found we were treated just fine. Some appeared to be locals, others on holiday like us and everyone was fixated on their own group with nary a look at the two of us. The waitstaff was most kind and I even noticed the bar maid had a really cute wrap top on, so I waltzed over to the bar to compliment her and ask where she got it!

Having our fill, we made our way back to the cabin where my civilian mate was still up and eager to hear of our outing again expressing how he wished he had felt better and went with us as it sounded like a fabulous time to him.

Back Where We Started

So next morning, it was back to three blokes in the cabin. My civilian mate packed up early to get some ski runs in before heading home, while my sister and I took our time, loading our cars and chatting a bunch as girls do. We do not often see each other, so we tend to not be in any particular hurry when we do get together.

On my way home, I stopped at a small department store to browse a bit. (Did you really think you’d get through this story without any shopping, lol!) Anyway, I happened across something I had actually been thinking about, a new female coat. While I adore the black wool coat with the fur trim hood you’ve seen in some of my outing photos, I’ve thought of something a bit more utilitarian for when weather is bad. Going out and about in Rangeley also cemented this thought as I did think it looked a bit too fancy for that setting. 

On a sale rack I came across a black Columbia parka with a faux fur hood in my size. Perfect! It looked plenty nice enough to wear with my work attire if the weather was sloppy, but also fit much better in very casual settings like I had just been in. Though being a real ski bunny might not be in the picture, I could look the part a little better at least.

Heading over to the till, the lady there commented what a nice coat it was and also informed me she had included a gift receipt in case it did not fit, or “she” needed to return it. I just smiled and thanked her, but said that I thought “she” would be happy with it.

So loves, thus ended a fabulous weekend of firsts. Certainly a roller coater for sure, but still fun, and one of discovery for all involved. Questions or comments are welcome below or you can email me at nblucher at-sign proton dot me. Though I love sharing my adventures, it truly is the chit-chat it generates for all that I adore most.

Wearing Hutch

Professional femulator Francis Lee Alsop known as Minnie Meyers, circa 1947