Do you remember the first time?

By Starla Renee Trimm

Do you remember the first time you crossdressed? The first time you furtively slipped on some nylons or a dress or a bra or heels?

Oddly enough, I don't.

I feel like I must be the odd gurl out on this. Countless others over the years have described that first time to me. But I think and think and rummage through the cobwebbed corners of my brain and I got nothin'.

I grew up in New Jersey and my family moved to Florida in 1970 when I was 12. And honestly, I cannot recall a single instance of crossdressing before we made the move.

Thought about it, sure. Browsed the Sears catalog looking at the pictures of smartly-attired lady models and wondered what it was like to dress like that, certainly. Watched stylish actresses on TV and fantasized about wearing that dress or having that hairdo, yes… and often.

But I cannot recall ever actually putting on an article of female clothing until we moved to the Sunshine State. Even then, the memory banks are murky. I know that by the time we had been there for several months, I was regularly "borrowing" my mother's things. (And ashamed to admit, shoplifting wigs to wear – a nasty habit that I regret with shame to this day, yet I am also quite glad I was never caught.)

But I have no recollection of when, why and how I first slipped on her nightie or tried on her bras. Not any memory of anything that might have triggered the shift from fantasizing to femulating. Was it something I read or saw on TV? Or maybe just the fact that I was now old enough to be trusted to spend a few hours home alone giving me a relatively safe window to experiment? I have no idea.

The mind can play tricks on us in regards to memories. Things can be erased from conscious memory due to trauma and false memories can seem very real.

An example of the latter that has nothing to do with crossdressing. I still harbor a vivid memory of reading a magazine article about the Kent State shootings while laying on my bed at my grandparents' cottage in Vermont where I spent my summers growing up. But we never returned to Vermont after the move to Florida in the Spring of 1970 and the Kent State tragedy occurred in May of that year. In fact, 1969 was the last summer we spent in Vermont. Yet I have the strong, legitimate memory of watching the first moon landing that July on my grandmother's ancient DuMont black-and-white television complete with the dead fly permanently stuck between the picture tube and its protective cover.

So, it is impossible for me to have been reading about Kent State in Vermont. As much as my intellect accepts that reality, the false memory persists to this day.

As for trauma and lost memories, maybe I did crossdress in New Jersey and was caught. And the experience was traumatic enough for my brain to hit the erase button.

I don't think so. Because I do remember the first time I was caught in Florida and it was very traumatic. But I still have the memory.

So anyway, how about you? Do you remember your first time? Or are your early memories of femulating lost to the ages like a wiped videotape? Are there more of the former or latter among us?

I'll let y'all figure it out. Right now, thinking about all this, my head hurts.

Wearing Trina Turk (Source: Rent the Runway)

Jannik Schümann femulated in the 2015 German film Mein Sohn Helen (My Son Helen).

Saturday Night Lives

By request, I am rerunning this story that I wrote and posted here over a year ago. I hope you enjoy it. Have a nice weekend!

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 4-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 JustFab (Source: JustFab)

Chorus boys (center left and right) sort of femulating in the 2017 Emmy Awards television show.

Why?

It was 55 years ago, but I recall the day as clearly as if it were yesterday.

I was home alone. Dad was at work. Mom and my sister were out shopping or some such. I went into my parent's bedroom and searched through my Mom's dresser drawers looking for her nylon stockings.

I found the stockings, removed a pair from the drawer and tried them on. I knew how to roll them and then unroll them up my legs because I had seen women do it in movies and on television.

I straightened the seams and then I opened my Mom's closet to look at my legs in the full-length mirror mounted on the inside of the closet door. My hairless legs look very nice in a pair of stockings, but I thought they might look better with a pair of shoes.

I searched through the shoe boxes on the closet floor, found a pair of four-inch high heel pumps and slipped them on my stockinged feet. I looked in the mirror again and was mesmerized by what I saw... not a 12-year-old boy's legs in drag, but an actual pair of shapely woman's legs.

That was the beginning. Soon I was trying on bras, girdles, slips, blouses, skirts, dresses, hats, gloves, earrings, necklaces, bracelets and I even began experimenting with cosmetics whenever I was home alone.

Although I can clearly remember that first crossdressing experience, I have no recollection of what moved me to do it.

At the time, I was not aware that crossdressing was something that people did, so I was not emulating other crossdressers.

I was aware of female impersonators on stage, film and television, that is, men dressing as women for disguise or for entertainment. But back then, I had no plans of being a female impersonator when I grew up, so I should start practicing as soon as possible.

At age 12, I did not think I was a female, so I should dress accordingly.

I have no idea why I tried on that pair of nylons, but I'm glad I did.

Wearing Venus.

Vincent Beier, male womenswear model

Sara's First Time

General Douglas MacArthur

At about four years, my mother on wash day would pile up the clothes on the floor for washing. I would go to the pile of women's underwear and play with them. Putting on the panties, bras, slips: both grandmother and mom would laugh! I was not allowed my grandmother's most fine items.

My mother was born in the same month as Shirley Temple and was a fan for a lifetime. Her favorite gifts as a girl were Shirley Temple dresses! Many times they asked if I wanted to try on the dresses! I really did! The ladies got into this from time to time and even went to the point of starting with panties and slips and going to full little girl drag.

One way they found of tempting, was my grandmother had some of her silk little girls panties, that after first trying them on they felt so nice and good, that all my grandmother had to do was hand them to me after a bath, and I never refused!

Once at age five, they did it and mom and dad had words over my dress which was uncommon, they rarely ever had a fight out where others could see! The next Saturday after my bath, my grandmother hands me the silk panties, which I took and it started, with a bouffant little girls slip, on to a blue dress with girl’s frilly socks and topped with patent Mary Jane shoes. These events usually lasted an hour. But this time grand took me and using an electric old style curling iron did my shoulder length hair into little girl curls.

From Colonial times to the early last century, it was common for boys to be dressed as girls up to age 5 or 6. My Grandmother was a fan of General MacArthur and General Patton, she collected books on them; after I started to read she went through them as a way to help me read, MacArthur had a picture of himself at five, and a picture of his family in 1930 with first him and then his son at the age of 5-6 both were in girls dresses with long curls!

The biography of Patton said that he was dressed as a girl to age eight and as a boy only outside of the family until age 10 and was not allowed to read till age 12.

After an hour my father called from the living room as I popped by "come over here little girl!" After several repeats, I did. Dad pulled me up to his leg and said do you like your dress little girl?
“Yes.”

Several other questions on my clothes followed, then he picked me up and set me on his lap and said "Little girl, do you want to keep wearing your dress for the rest of the day?”

“Yes,” I replied demurely. At that point he grabbed my head and kissed me on the forehead then pulled me into an embrace and snuggled; that I had seen him only give to little girls in the family! It was great! Total acceptance as I stayed there for several minutes! Till both my mother and grand came in from the doorway.

No more was said.


I invite all Femulate readers to share their first crossdressing experience. Try to recall that moment the first time you tried on a woman’s garment and began the process of unveiling and exploring your feminine self. To entice you to share your first time story, I will give away a free copy of my e-book Fantasia Fair Diaries to all whose stories I use in Femulate.

Wearing Marciano.

Johnny Downs (right) in the 1941 film All-American Co-Ed.

Marie, A Girl Continued

This story is a continuation of Marie's First Time.

Regrettably, next day when we were reliving the events of the previous evening my wife announced now that I had experienced some of the joys of femininity she now expected me to cherish the memory but we would never have an encore performance. I was inwardly crushed but I was able to obtain some photos from the party and cut one down to wallet size, which I kept for many years as a small reminded of my first fully feminine adventure. I would not be able until many years later after we had three children - all girls - learned many another aspects of femininity. Was surrounded by this crew until the girls departed the nest and my wife suddenly passed away. Shortly afterward the girls came and cleaned out all my wife's things and I was left with an enormous walk-in rosewood closet with a full length beveled mirror and the delicate fragrance of her numerous flower caches. This started me into on exploration of my femininity, which had been dormant for twenty-four years.

During the next few weeks I recalled all the preparations for the Halloween Show Girl Team and mentally relived the preparation and the excitement and thrill of that evening in my mind. Without my "Girl Guide Partner," my first purchases were tentative and always mixed with other purchases. It took a few trial runs to determine my girl sizes (36B, eight in panties and skirts, and ten in dresses and twelve in well tailored ladies suits (skirts had to be taken in). The lingerie collection gradually grew to become came a rainbow of matching colors. The same with shoes and purses and of course a few good quality wigs. Although I had the run of the house and could do the housekeeping chores a la femme, and could walk outside on the two acres of property and travel down the driveway to deposit or pickup the mail my inner soul yearned for some female companionship and appreciation as well as makeup tips and feminine training. I was yearning to go out into the world and experience the life I had forgone those many years. The "web to the rescue."

It took me a few weeks of frustration and missed starts before I came up with my "Fairy Godmother." Finally after several weeks/month of searching under various terms, located the website of a makeup artist who also does photoshoots a few hours away. Made an appointment and began preparations including culling my wardrobe and purchasing a special outfit. On my arrival day, I was met by the "artist," an extremely friendly and lively woman who shortly I would learn was totally understanding and highly supportive of Marie. I was thrilled but also a little anxious as I entered this new world.

After a few minutes of chatting with a glass of wine in hand, I began the conversion from Bruce to Marie. Shave, shower, dusting powder, wig, lingerie, and dressing gown followed by a full professional makeover. Then we selected the outfits beginning with casual walking-out togs, moved to day dresses, then a stylish business suit, a wonderful cocktail number all with the appropriate jewelry, accessories, shoes and purses. There were camera shots galore, some posed but many candid as Marie transitioned from the casual afternoon shopping outfit through each of the progressively for feminine images.

I was in seventh heaven as someone coined ages ago. We eventually graduated to an off the shoulder low bodice ball gown worth matching shawl. Did I tell you the background music during the journey evolved to match the mood setting of each outfit. Totally enticed by this new and wonderful world changed back to a nice up-scale shopping outfit and departed for a light dinner at a warm, friendly and cozy restaurant. The three of us – my artist’s husband had joined us for dinner. Then a walk along the lakeside boardwalk with the evening breeze gently blowing my skirt and caressing my well rounded breasts with just a touch of cleavage showing. The clicking of our heels was the musical backdrop. The night was not over!! After Brad – the husband went back to work, we girls headed back to the studio and another whole chapter of delight and femininity awaited, although I was unaware at the time and due to the trance of euphoria I was in. Nothing could be better, I thought. I proved to be delightfully incorrect.

Upon pulling up at the studio my "Girl Guide" suggested I take a leisurely "soak" and she would be back in 45 minutes for another training lesson. Before ascending the stairs to her house, she chirped over her shoulder that I would find everything a lady needed in the bath off the studio and available myself of anything and everything I found finishing up with the reminder she would be back in 45 minutes and expected to fine a perfectly smooth skinned and moisturized “Marie” waiting for another chapter in femininity. With cheerful directions I slipped off my heels dangled them in one hand and with purse in other and flew up the stone steps.

As I entered the bath-suite, and that was what is was – the lights slow came on and climbed to a pleasant pinkish hue and soft music filling the air. I was stunned and captivated. Taking one last-long look in the full-length wall mirror, I carefully removed the walking-out dining outfit carefully hanging it on a cushioned and perfumed hangar. There were several. Each displaying a separate article of intimate apparel, including a short pink dressing gown, and a black satin sleeping gown and matching black negligee. Next to this mini-alcove was velvet covered cushioned stool. On it laid a black bra and panty plus a pair of near black thigh highs. The tub had been half drawn and the water was barely warm so on with the hot water tap and then in with the bottle of bubble bath that was perched on the side. While waiting a quick face cleaning and shave, then slide into the foaming delightful smelling blue liquid. There was a small book title “How to be a Girl.”

Only a quick perusal was allowed as only 20 minutes were left before my hostess would return. Gingerly, I stepped out of the porcelain tub and using the giant sized pink bath towel, dried and powered my smooth skin paying particular attention to my shoulders, throat and cleavage area. Then on with the lacy bra and equally lacy panties followed by carefully rolling the thigh-highs up taking special care not the cause a run in these gossamer encasements. Then the black heels and the thigh-length dressing gown.

Just as I was brushing my hair, I heard the chimes from the studio door and the cheerful voice of my hostess calling my name, "Marie, are you decent?" I quickly chirped back a positive reply and entered the studio and took a sit in the makeup chair where my face again become a palette of femininity and if I may say so, when finished glamorous.

As I stood in front of the full-length mirror, once more my hostess came behind me, wrapped a black satin and bone corset around my waist and began working the laces. She had me turn away from the mirror as she was performing this piece of magic. When finished, she added a pearl necklace, matching dangling earrings, ring and bracelet and a cloud of perfume from the crown of my carefully casually brushed hair down to my now naturally-enhanced cleavage. Then I was allowed to gracefully turn back to the mirror which she had now opened to it three full panels. A vision of femininity in spirit and body looked back. I was flabbergasted at the level of artistry my hostess had achieved and absolutely taken back by Marie.

Lastly, I was guided to a nearby bed and directed to strike several girly poses, while my hostess snapped pictures in a rapid suggestion. She then exited the studio and turning off the light, wished me a night full of wonderful dreams. Luxurious in the memories of the day and evening, I drifted off to a restful sleep.


I invite all Femulate readers to share their first crossdressing experience. Try to recall that moment the first time you tried on a woman’s garment and began the process of unveiling and exploring your feminine self. To entice you to share your first time story, I will give away a free copy of my e-book Fantasia Fair Diaries to all whose stories I use in Femulate.

Wearing Alexander Wang.

Hans Anton, professional femulator, circa 1910

Marie's First Time

My recollections are mixed about when I discovered/suspected I was not all male or should I say, had some female hiding in my inner core. My first positive but fearful incident occurred at about age 12 or 13 when one day I discovered my nipples were suddenly hard and sore and had a pronounced bud of perhaps a quarter in diameter, which was tender to the touch. I was terrified – am I turning into a girl? After a week or so, all the sensations and buds receded and I continued life as normal.

At about age 16 several things happened. Almost every day I walked past an upscale dry cleaner who usually had several ball gowns on display in the window and I found myself admiring them.

My movie heroes were John Wayne’s portrayals in westerns and war movies, but occasionally, I saw a Technicolor musical. Often these starred glorious women like Debbie Reynolds, Lana Turner, and Elizabeth Taylor. I always was fascinated by the delicious-looking clothes and in particular remember one scene in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof where Elizabeth Taylor was wearing a body-clinging slip. I thought that was fantastic and began to envy women for their ability to wear the clothes that looked great and offered freedom of expression and mood in sharp contrast to the dull drab colors and styles of men’s attire.

My next shocker came at summer camp where everyone wore shorts. My first day there I put on the uniform and when I stepped out of the tent, I got some whistles and comments from several girl campers about my great gams, which were “too good for a boy.” Was I embarrassed!! But I cataloged the incident in my brain.

The next adventurer was self-induced. While baby-sitting for a relative, I discovered an evening gown – probably a bridesmaid’s – hanging in the hallway in a pink plastic bag. Carefully I raised the plastic and found a gorgeous green velvet floor-length gown with a princess neckline. I was drawn to trying it on. Quickly I took in into the spacious bathroom, took a very quick shower, then stepped into heaven and zipped up the back. My cotton boy socks filled out the bodice wonderfully. The off-the-shoulder style added a degree of daring and romance. It reminded me of Scarlet O’Hara in Gone With The Wind and her gown made from the living room draperies.

I was ecstatic, but after a few twirls in front of the full-length mirror, I was seized simultaneously with near euphoria and panic. Quickly, but very carefully I unzipped and let the green velvet cloud slowly slide to the floor, where after gracefully stepping out of its warm circle, I very gingerly hung it up, covered it in its plastic protective cocoon and returned this marvel of femininity to its original position.


I invite all Femulate readers to share their first crossdressing experience. Try to recall that moment the first time you tried on a woman’s garment and began the process of unveiling and exploring your feminine self. To entice you to share your first time story, I will give away a free copy of my e-book Fantasia Fair Diaries to all whose stories I use in Femulate.

Wearing JustFab.

An all male cast performs Guys and Dolls at the UK Caldicott Prep School in 2015.

Tricia’s First Time and Beyond

My earliest memories of crossdressing are circa primary school days.

There was a trunk full of women's clothes in the garage of our home and I remember enjoying getting the dresses out and putting them on. My Mother also had an old one-piece swimsuit she kept in our laundry and when she was not home, I'd go in there and try it on. I think I can also recall donning the swimsuit and a wig for a "dress up session" with one of my male cousins who dressed as a beatnik, all this in front of some relatives. Yes, it was that long ago! Worse still!!! ...about that time I found an encyclopedia article on women's period dress quite fascinating, so I guess my love of wearing women's clothes stems from that time.

I can also clearly recall how beautiful my Mum looked when she and my father were attending a formal ball and I guess I wanted to look like her: all beautifully coiffed, perfumed, made up and dressed in a long evening gown. Perhaps that's where my ongoing love of formal wear came from too!

Moving to my early teens, my parents had a holiday cottage where, though it would never be allowed these days, I refused to go for winter weekends as there was "nothing to do." So this gave me the chance to be on my own and dress in all my mother's finery. Tennis balls had to make do for breasts in one of her bras, but that was OK. I especially enjoyed the tightness of her panty girdles and feeling the tautness of the suspenders attached to her stockings.

This went on for some time until, inevitably, some relatives called in to check on me one night and I was well and truly "sprung." Being a typical "father of the age," i.e. the 60's, my father's "severe talking to" about this "hobby" of mine centered on the retribution I would face when I got older if the "boys in the pub" found out about my penchant for things feminine!

A Lady Bracknell femulation in a North Carolina private school production of The Importance of Being Earnest.

I attended a trade-oriented, all-male high school where drama and plays were hardly given a mention. So it can only be imagined how jealous I was when I read a newspaper article about how in the best tradition of all-male private schools of the era, boys were selected to play the female roles in the school's annual production. Males playing Lady Bracknell in the Importance of Being Earnest have had me green with envy ever since!

Onwards into my 20's and once married "this will all fade away." But of course, it did not and the need to be Tricia caused much tension in the marriage and eventually was one of the main reasons for the divorce. Siring two girls did not help because when they matured, there were even more "frillies" about the house!

My career involved a lot of interstate and overseas travel so that's when Tricia would appear, mostly in a hotel room somewhere. Though she did venture out occasionally in such places far from home as London and Toronto and a couple of crossdresser group meetings in Perth, Australia, she's been retired for quite some time now and the location of where she lives and the circumstances of that location, plus her current relationship allows Tricia reasonably frequent occasions to "emerge." Period and evening gowns are still favorites, as is classy cocktail wear and lingerie.

Tricia would love to go out in public more often, but not in the small rural community where she resides. The gossip mill would go into meltdown if she was "sprung" and whilst she may be able to withstand all of the above, the burden on her beloved partner would be most unfair!

Furthermore, Tricia knows that one day, hopefully quite some time away, "advancing years' will decree a move to a retirement village back to the City. How this will affect not only her but her clothes, makeup, jewelry ,etc. wearing and storage remains to be seen.

Happy dressing everyone,

Tricia

I invite all Femulate readers to share their first crossdressing experience. Try to recall that moment the first time you tried on a woman’s garment and began the process of unveiling and exploring your feminine self. To entice you to share your first time story, I will give away a free copy of my e-book Fantasia Fair Diaries to all whose stories I use in Femulate.

Jerzy Grzechnik femulating Adele on Polish television's Twoja Twarz Brzmi Znajomo.

Eavesdropping

I work with engineers. Cubicles populated by hardware and software engineers surround my cubicle. Due to their proximity, eavesdropping is unavoidable, but not very interesting because most of the time they talk about work and their current projects.

When their discussions stray from work-related issues, they seem to be an apolitical bunch. There is one fellow who is fascinated by Trump, but most of the crew keep their political views close to the vest and talk about other non-work matters.

But out of the blue Thursday morning, three engineers have a discussion about how the country is divided... yadda, yadda, yadda... Someone brings up the transgender bathroom issue and I am all ears.

One engineer said, "I don't understand what the big deal is about if a transgender woman is dressed like a woman and uses the women's restroom or if a transgender man is dressed like a man and uses the men's restroom. Who cares?"

End of discussion.

Hurray for our team!

Wearing Polo.

Ted Brightwell on stage in La Cage Aux Folles.

Carollyn's Other Times

This is part 2 of "Carollyn's First Time," which I posted here on Monday.

Skipping to October 2004...

My real life as Carollyn started on the 17th of October. My wife and family went to Disneyland while I had to stay at home. For six days, it was feminine bliss. By that time, I settled on my name, my overall look and style.

That week, other than work, I lived as a woman. It was wonderful. I went to movies, dinner, shopping, the casino and did many other "girlish" things. I was never harassed and was always accepted as a woman.

I had been using my wife's short wig, as my second-hand wig was "big hair" and I wanted a change. I visited a nearby salon where I had purchased my first wig. The ladies at the store were so helpful, especially Linda. She took my "big hair" and trimmed it into something more stylish.

I had first gone to the shop in male persona, but the girls insisted I come back dressed when I picked up the new hair. Unfortunately, the day we set for my return, my wife had to cancel her plans, so I would not have an opportunity to dress. I phoned the ladies at the shop and told them of my dilemma and they insisted that I dress there. So I did, and spent four hours with the ladies in my new hair while learning etiquette from one of the ladies who was a former model. I felt I was all set until a few months later.

The following May, I had the luxury of making a trip to I Love It Girl (ILIG) in Fremont, California. ILIG was a TG paradise with tons of clothes, wigs, shoes, etc., and a lovely and helpful owner in JoAnn. I was on a business trip to the San Francisco Bay Area and decided to visit on a non-social night. (ILIG has Wednesday night socials every week).

When I arrived, JoAnn was busy, but greeted me with open arms. I was dressed in a red skirt outfit and matching heels and she gave me so many compliments while she worked with another client. After a short time, she sat me down and chatted about dressing and then without asking my size, pulled out a number of different dresses for me to wear for pictures. For what seemed to be hours, I played dress-up with her help and we took numerous pictures.

Close to midnight, I drove back to my motel dressed, but with a new hair style and a new attitude... and total confidence. I was a woman. I even went to dinner the following evening to a fancy hotel restaurant as Carollyn.

During the next few months in 2005, I met a friend, Linda Holmes, who moved to my area from Maine. We got together numerous times to dress and go out on the town during the day for lunch, shopping and lots of pictures. Linda was about two years into her transition. She was a sweetheart and the co-founder of Mature Women Group.

My salon friend, Linda, recommended I change my hair style to what it is today. She told me that my current style makes me look 10 to 15 years younger.

In November 2005, I received the first "shock" of my life. I had been a member of URNotAlone and VickiRene.net, but my good friend, Lauren Phillips, nominated me for the prestigious Vanity Club. I applied with some hesitation concerned that I would not be accepted, but I received enough votes to become a member.

My second "shock" occurred in March 2006 when KC Tyler selected me to be a member of KC's Top 10. KC's was the first TG site I found on the Internet. I never thought that I would become a friend and a member of her equally prestigious site.

Now, we must jump to Christmas and New Year’s...

I decided to be daring! I had never worn a formal dress except at ILIG, so I paid a visit to my local JC Penney's and "borrowed" a red chiffon formal and a black party dress. My desire was to take pictures and send e-mail Christmas cards to my friends. So, in male persona, I made the purchases and one evening prior to Christmas, I dressed in a long red strapless formal and took my pictures. A few days before New Year’s, I wore a black strapless party dress. Both dresses were so great to wear and I felt so good being dressed "to the nines."

A week after New Year’s, I was back in the Bay Area and another trip to ILIG. I took the black dress with me and JoAnn flipped when she saw the new "complete" product. After a little touchup of my makeup and a few accessories, we took tons of pictures. I stayed for four hours and wore a couple of other dresses JoAnn had selected. Had I had the time, I would have stayed into the night. I drove home dressed and stopped at JC Penney's to return the black dress, as I had no place to wear it again. Sigh!!!

Life as Carollyn has been fabulous. I love dressing as often as possible and enjoying life as a lady. When I dress, I want to create an illusion of a classy, perky and joyful conservative woman. When out, I want to honor women and blend in with others without drawing attention to myself.

I strongly want to help other girls and that was one of the reason the now-deceased Linda and I formed the Mature Women Group ten years ago. I don't consider myself an expert and blush when others consider me an icon in the community. All I want to do is assist other girls and walk hand-in-hand with them on the same, wonderful journey I'm taking.

Wearing Bebe.

Logan Kesler at the 2011 Theatre Under The Stars' Tommy Tune Awards

Transcation

Next week, I will be on a transcation, that is, presenting as a woman while I travel 726 miles to Dayton, Ohio, to attend a ham radio convention. Unlike the girls above, my transcation will be solo, but I expect to see a lot of friends and acquaintances, who I have not seen since last year's convention. So, although I will be solo en femme, I will not be alone.

This will be my seventh transcation to this convention, so you would think it would be "old hat" by now. In many ways, it will be familiar, but this year, there will be one big difference and I am a little nervous about it.

During my six previous Ohio transcations, I was invisible to most people... just an old lady in her Subaru driving too slow in the passing lane. Although I am a well-known writer in the ham radio world, my fellow hams know that writer as a male. As a result, very few people saw my name badge being worn by a female and put two-and-two together.

For example, I will never forget walking up to a friend I had known for over 30 years, saying, "Hi, Tom" with him replying, "Do I know you?" If I could fly as a woman under the radar of friends and acquaintances, I am sure I flew under everybody else's radar, too.

This year, I am receiving an award at the convention. This fact has been publicized in all the ham radio media. The convention's web site displays my feminine visage next to the award announcement. Over 20,000 printed programs will be handed out at the convention containing the same photo and announcement, so all those people who were clueless in the past will now be clued-in.

Whereas in the past, maybe a couple of hundred people were clued-in, this year 20,000 to 25,000 will be in the know and that is a little scary. So wish me well.

Wearing Alexis.

Jack Haley (right) in the 1945 film George White's Scandals.