Dressing Your Age, Continued

Dee responded to Friday’s post, Dressing Your Age, More or Less.

Reading Sandy's post on “Dressing Your Age, More or Less,” I have to wonder how one goes through life with such a condescending attitude towards a fellow traveler. 

It boggles my mind when femulators (thanks, Stana) can have these two thoughts going on in their head simultaneously:

1. When I’m out in public, I expect others to be tolerant of me; and

2. OMG, do you see what she’s wearing?

In short, tolerance for me, but none for thee.

We don’t want people making fun of us, but we are happy to jump on others because they don’t dress the way we approve? How hypocritical. How condescending. How rude.

Here is a sample.

“Truly, I wonder who these sisters believe they are appealing to and I have come to the conclusion that their choices are determined by wanting to look like someone that they themselves would be attracted to, as well as what clothing they have access to purchasing. Maybe they only feel comfortable buying the discards at the local goodwill or someplace else that affords cheap prices and anonymity while shopping.”

Rubbish.

Every post Stana includes a picture which says “Femulate Her.” There are a lot of cute outfits and some might be “age inappropriate,” according to some. 

I suggest instead that instead of bowing to someone else’s judgment, we make our own decisions and ignore judgments like the one above.

Recently, I had a great interaction with a store manager, Kira, in Melbourne, Australia. She asked me if the clothes I was wearing made me feel confident because they should make you feel confident. All I know is that I walked into her store and saw the top she was wearing and I decided I wanted that top. She’s 22 and a genetic girl and gorgeous – I’m none of the above – and I bought the top and wore it out of the store with confidence (see photo above).

Enough with the shaming of others because they don’t dress the way you think they should. If you want tolerance for yourself for how you dress, you must have tolerance for how others dress. Otherwise, you’re not helping our community, you’re harming it.

Wearing Venus

Femulating in the early 1960’s

My Achy Left Foot

Thursday, I had to attend another Zoom meeting of my ham radio club’s board of directors. Since I am the only girl on the board, I like to dress pretty and had a new sleeveless dress to wear that demanded that I shave body parts I have not shaved while I was recuperating from my osteoarthritis. 

Wednesday morning, I spent about 45 minutes shaving those body parts and was surprised it did not take as long as I expected. (All those years using chemicals to remove leg hair have taken its toll and the hair on my legs is very sparse, which simplified that part of the hair removal process.)

Mid-Thursday morning, I began getting ready for the 1 PM Zoom meeting. I was good to go about a 45 minutes early, so I decided to experiment with different shoes to see how my achy left foot would get along with different footwear.

My Nine West slingback pumps with four-inch heels lasted about five minutes. Next I tried a pair of over-the-knee boots from Just Fab, which were more comfortable than the slingbacks, but not by much. So I switched to a pair of Nine West pumps with a kitten heel. They were pain-free and I wore them for the remainder of the afternoon.

I also wore my new A-line houndstooth dress from Venus and was very pleased with its quality and its fit, as well as how nice it looked on me, in my humble opinion (see the accompanying photo).

Wearing New York & Company

Femulating in India

Dressing Your Age, More or Less

Sandy responded to Monday’s post, Can I picture Helen Mirren wearing it?

Just wanted to heartily agree with you about deciding if an outfit is age-ish appropriate.

I do not understand how (seemingly) most of our sisters go through their journey trying to look like they are 22, when so many clues give them away.

I mean, I get it. Most of us go through a phase of sorts that feels like we are teens, trying on looks, textures, attitudes. But I think we all have to give a nod to reality – that we tend to and probably should, skew toward the age-appropriate.

Truly, I wonder who these sisters believe they are appealing to and I have come to the conclusion that their choices are determined by wanting to look like someone that they themselves would be attracted to, as well as what clothing they have access to purchasing. Maybe they only feel comfortable buying the discards at the local goodwill or someplace else that affords cheap prices and anonymity while shopping.

Either way, I think it casts a pall over crossdressing/gendering in general because the public can look at those sisters and cast them as pervy and then we, who might try to dress pretty/classy/age-appropriate, get painted the same way. That’s unfortunate.

What’s more is that I think women’s fashion has evolved beyond the age of our grandmother’s hausfrau dresses and other unsexy outfits. These days, most ciswomen still want to be considered kinda hip, if not young and pretty, and there are many styles out there now to accommodate (including hairstyles). I think it’s sad that there are many sisters out there who don’t know the difference and don’t get with the program.

I also understand “to each, their own,” but from a girl who prefers the looks that I think honor ciswomen, by trying to emulate them more: girl next door,  soccer mom, business woman.

I do find some of the fetish looks make my hobby feel a little dirty and seedy (if that makes any sense).

Wearing St. John

Dressing my age – NOT!

Getting Good to Go

On my last trip to Hamvention
(Hope it’s not my last trip to Hamvention!)

Lazy lady that I am, I stopped shaving my body parts when it was evident that my osteoarthritis would prevent me from going out en femme any time soon. 

But...

“The time has come,” the Walrus said, “To put on a dress and go out en femme.”

I am feeling better and have been invited to lunch with some lady friends later this month. I think I can manage a few hours out especially if I wear flats, but now I face the daunting task of removing all that hair!

I thought about cheating and wearing black tights to avoid shaving my legs, but I still have to deal with the rest of my body hair and removing leg hair is relatively easy and so it goes.

By the way, I have sent my regrets to my ham radio friends informing them that I will not be going to Ohio next month to attend Hamvention. I may be good to go out to a local restaurant for a few hours, but I am not quite good to go to Dayton and be on and off my feet for the three-day convention.

I so look forward to my Hamvention trips and was very much looking forward to going this year especially since the convention was cancelled the last two years due to the pandemic. But I finally bit the bullet, put on my big girl panties and admitted that this year was a no-go, too.

Darn it!

Wearing A.L.C. dress and Valentino tote and sandals

Three gorgeous girls out in their LBD‘s

Can I picture Helen Mirren wearing it?

Girls like us receive a lot of flack about how we dress. Specifically about how we don’t dress our age. That girls like us dress like girls half our age (and look ridiculous doing so).

I plead guilty of not dressing my age. In my defense, I claim that I don’t look my age – that I look younger than my 71 years, so why not take advantage of that fact and dress like a 50-year-old woman.

And when considering whether I look good in any outfit I am wearing, I use the following checklist:

1. Do I look good?

2. Do I feel good?

3. Does it say something positive (and perhaps truthful) about my rank in life?

4. Can I picture Helen Mirren wearing it?

In my opinion, question number 4 does it for me! If I can imagine the 70-something Ms. Mirren wearing the same outfit that I am wearing, then I believe it is perfectly appropriate for this 70-something femulator.

Wearing Joie

Femulating in the shower

Breasts or Legs?

In this day and age, it seems absurd that husbands still want wives with big breasts, but they do.

With that in mind, my parents started me on a regimen of hormone supplements as I approached puberty. The purpose of the hormones was to help me achieve a state of pulchritude that would make me more attractive to the opposite sex and eventually snag me a husband.

When I began taking the supplements, I had big expectations. My budding breasts seemed to outgrow my training bra overnight and I was soon sporting a new A-cup bra. However, as all my friends moved up the bra cup alphabet, my breasts refused to grow any larger. I was stuck at an A-cup even after the doctor increased the dosage of my hormones.

As I neared my sweet 16 birthday with nary a date in sight, Mom offered me breast implants as a birthday gift. But I was adamant that no surgeon was going to take a scalpel to my surgically virgin body, so I refused.

Although I lacked bountiful breasts, I had other attractive features including a pair of long shapely to-die-for legs. To show them off, I always wore the shortest skirts and highest heels. On a few occasions, I was sent home from school because my skirts were so short that they revealed other assets.

Nevertheless, I built my wardrobe around mini-skirts and mini-dresses hoping to attract someone who preferred well-turned ankles over well-rounded breasts.

After graduating from high school, I became a receptionist at a high-tech engineering firm where I attracted a design engineer who was an unabashed leg aficionado. We dated for six months, then she asked for my hand in marriage.

We just celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary and she still likes me to show off my legs. (She tells everyone, “He has the best legs in town.”)

As her obedient and dutiful wife, I willingly comply and wear skirts or dresses and high heels throughout my day.

Wearing Zuhair Murad

Femulating at the Chamayavilakku Festival

2022 Transgender Lives Conference

At the 2019 Trans Lives Conference
(when it was really “live”)

The 16th annual Transgender Lives Conference will be held virtually on Saturday, April 30, 2022 via the UConn Health Center’s WebEx from 9:30 AM to 4:00 PM.

The conference is geared towards social service providers, medical and legal professionals, transgender and non-binary gender diverse and gender non-conforming community members, as well as allies and supporters interested in learning about healthcare and legal issues that affect our communities.

To register for the conference go to the conference’s registration webpage. Registration is free, but $10 donations via PayPal are welcome.

Yours truly will be presenting at the conference (time slot to be determined). The topic of my presentation is “Confidence: A Crossdresser’s Best Friend.” It’s a topic I covered at previous conferences and it has always been a crowd pleaser.

I hope to see you there!

Update:

This just in: I will be presenting at at 10 AM EDT on Saturday, April 30.

Wearing Guilty of Glam

Kyle De'Volle

An Arrival from Venus

Mailman delivered yet another package from Venus (the clothier, not the planet). 

I am a sucker for houndstooth and I could not resist adding this A-line houndstooth dress to my wardrobe. The only issue was answering the universal question of girls who order clothing online: Will it fit?

Out of the package, I had my doubts, but the proof is in the putting on the dress. So I slipped out of my boy lingerie and slipped into my girl shapewear to find out.

The dress is figure-hugging above the waist, then flares out below the waist “to create a flirty A-line silhouette.” It is short, falling about mid-thigh, but when has a short hemline ever stopped me before! The dress does not suffer from the loose button syndrome and its sleeveless sleeves are not an issue as I have thin lady arms. So the dress is a keeper and I hung it in my closet to wear in the near future.

The question is when is the “near future?”

I am still doing physical therapy with six more sessions approved by my health insurance, but I am very close to being ready to go out en femme. I am not high heel ready, but flats will work and I would like to go out about the time of my last physical therapy session.

Who knows? By then I may be high heel ready, but heels or flats, I’m going out and weather permitting, this confection from Venus will be what I will wear.

Wearing Roberto Cavalli

Femulating at Tuntenball

More Femulating Fun

I attended the Avon representatives Christmas party en femme in 2006. There were approximately 75 in attendance and as I expected, I was the only male Avon representative at the party.

I also guessed correctly that I would be one of the best dressed at the party, but what I did not expect was that it was no contest! I was WAY overdressed for the party. Most of the other reps wore slacks or jeans with tops and a minority wore skirts with tops. I was the only rep wearing a dress (see the accompanying photo).

As I arrived at the hotel, I saw how the other reps (on their way to the party) were dressed and I had a lot of trepidation attending the party myself the way I was dressed. I actually considered hightailing it out of there. But, as I contemplated my next move in the lobby of the hotel, my district manager greeted me and urged me to go into the party despite expressing my uneasiness about being overdressed.

I signed in at the registration table, received a gift, a raffle ticket and a name badge. I did not know what name (my real name or my femme name) to put on the badge, so I did not bother wearing it.

After registering, I looked for an empty chair and a friendly face. Everyone looked at me as I walked into the area where everyone was seated. From some of their facial expressions, I felt that they thought I was overdressed, too.

When I found an empty chair, I asked if it was taken and it was not, so I sat down. There were five reps at my table: one older, three about my age and one younger. They were all very pleasant and included me in their conversation.

Everyone I encountered throughout the evening was very friendly, as if I had known them for years. When I rose to get a drink or go to the powder room, I noticed people checking me out. And when I was in line for the buffet, I could not help noticing all the other folks in line checking me out closely. But I never heard a discouraging word and saw a lot of smiles directed at me.

At the end of the evening, I said goodbye to my district manager and she gave me a big hug. As we separated, I said that we had never met in person and I wanted to introduce myself. I said, “I am (my real name).”

She said, “I know.”

Wearing Bebe

Wearing Bebe

Professional femulator Billy “Koro” Halle, circa 1920

Saturday Night Lives

Third Saturday of the month, we dine with our friends, Bill and Rosemary Lucas. We take turns, one month at their house and one month at our house.

Last month at our house, Rosemary and my wife Karen discussed how men can be self-involved. As an example, Rosemary went on and on about how Bill spent a lot of time and money on photography.

Not to be outdone, Karen mentioned how I spent a lot of time and money on crossdressing.

I turned beet red with embarrassment. My crossdressing was a family secret. I was incredulous that Karen would let the cat out of the bag, but in the heat of the moment, she wanted to up Rosemary’s complaints about Bill.

“Who would have thought that about Stanley,” commented Rosemary.

“I’m shocked,” said Bill.

“Yes, ‘Stan the Man’ likes to become ‘Pearl the Girl’ about once a week,” added Karen.

“I'd like to meet her,” Bill said with a Cheshire Cat grin.

With a twinkle in her eye, Rosemary suggested, “Maybe Pearl can dine with us next month.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Karen replied.

“I can't wait!” Rosemary exclaimed. I did not say a word and the subject was dropped for other topics that I cannot recall because my head was spinning about what just happened.

On the way home, Karen apologized for telling Bill and Rosemary about Pearl.

“I accept your apology, but why did you go along with Rosie’s idea about Pearl showing up for dinner next month?”

“At first, I thought it would be too embarrassing for you, but Rosie and Bill were so enthusiastic that I thought, why not. Pearl is a beautiful woman and she deserves to go out and be seen.”

“I'll think about it,” was where I left it.

The month passed and I thought it was a dead issue.

Over breakfast on the morning of our next dinner with the Bill and Rosemary, Karen asked, “What is Pearl wearing tonight?”

I didn't see that coming.

“Stan was planning to go to dinner without Pearl tonight,” I replied.

“Rosie and Bill were expecting to see Pearl. In fact, I was expecting to see Pearl, too.”

“But...”

“You are going to disappoint everyone. Why don”t you stop being so self-centered and think about others for a change.”

Karen was angry... very angry. I felt guilty and started reconsidering. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Bill and Rosie already know and it might be fun to get out of the house en femme, as the “girls” say.

I finally relented, “I guess Pearl can make an appearance tonight.”

Karen's anger turned to elation, “Great! I'm so happy that she changed her mind.”

I completed my Saturday chores by mid-afternoon and began transforming myself into Pearl.

I disrobed and applied hair removal cream on my legs, arms, breasts and as far as I could reach on my back. While waiting for the cream to do its job, I applied a shaving gel to my face, neck and armpits, put a fresh blade in my razor and got in the shower.

As the water washed the depilated hair from my body, I shaved. Then I cleansed my whole body, rinsed and stepped out of the shower.

After drying myself, I rubbed moisturizer into my soft skin, then I slipped on a pair of black lace panties (the only kind I will wear) and sat at the vanity to do my makeup.

I used some concealer to hide the faint shadow of my beard, then applied foundation and powder. I did my eyes next. The eyeliner makes them stand out and a deft application of mascara and eyeshadow make them look smoky and mysterious. Some blush and muted lipstick followed.

Pearl is a blond and has a variety of hair styles at her disposal, so I had to decide which coiffure she would wear. I selected a short wispy layered cut with flipped ends and dark roots that add authenticity to the wig. I slipped the wig onto my head, straightened it and finger-styled it.

I removed my undies from the bureau and pulled on a high waist panty girdle, while tucking Willy and his friends out of sight. Next came the matching long line bra and silicone breast forms that went into its cups.

Sitting on the bed, I put my pink-polished toes into a pair of suntan control-top sandalfoot pantyhose and worked the sheer nylon up my legs and over my girdle.

I slipped a black sheath dress over my head being careful not to smudge my makeup on the fabric.

Then I asked my spouse, “Karen, would you please zip up my dress?”

“Yes, honey,” she answered. She stopped combing her hair to assist with my zipper.

“There you go,” she said when she finished zipping me up and closing the clasp just above the zipper.

“Thank-you, sweetheart.”

I completed my look with some tasteful jewelry: a silver watch on my slender wrist, silver heart clip-on earrings and my wedding band and engagement ring. Finally, I added a set of stick-on nails to my fingers.

I straightened out my dress and smoothed the hem, which fell about three inches above my knees, then slipped on a pair of four-inch black patent pumps. A spritz of perfume on my wrists and on the nape of my neck and I stand back to admire the finished product in our full-length mirror. Stan has left the building and Pearl was in his place!

I announced, “I'm ready,” using a feminized version of my voice.

“You certainly are, Miss Pearl! I'm almost ready, too. Can you return the favor?”

Karen had just slipped on her green belted sweater dress and was waiting for me to zip her up.

“Sure thing,” I said and I zipped up her dress.

“Check me out, honey, to make sure I look okay,” she asked.

She spun around with her arms posed akimbo so that I could see any flaws in her ensemble.

“You look perfect,” I said, “I am so lucky to be married to a drop dead gorgeous woman.” 

Then I spun around with my arms posed akimbo so that she could see any flaws in my ensemble.

“Perfect... I am lucky to be married to a drop dead gorgeous woman, too,” she replied.

We air-kissed each other so as not to smudge our makeup, grabbed our purses and walked to the garage.

Karen drove because I had never driven wearing high heels. It was only a half-mile ride to the Lucas home and when we arrived, Karen parked the car on the street and we walked hand-in-hand to the front door.

Karen rang the bell and we soon heard the clicking of high heels approach the door from the inside. The door was opened by a beautiful woman, who I didn't recognize.

Karen said, “Hi, Bill. You look lovely.”

“Thank-you, but Bill’s not here. Please call me ‘Pamela.’ May I assume your beautiful girlfriend is Pearl?”

“You assumed correctly, Pamela.”

I was speechless. Pamela nee Bill looked fantastic. He was wearing a white jacquard mini-dress, off white metallic pantyhose and silver strappy 4-inch sandals. His shoulder-length chestnut hair was up and his makeup was perfect.

“You look fabulous,” I gushed.

“You, too, girlfriend. Let’s take some photos!”

Wearing Charo Ruiz

Arthur Askey femulating in the 1940 British film Charley's Big-Hearted Aunt.