Besides experiencing my worst nightmare on Monday, the rest of my day out went well.
My 40-minute drive to Southern Connecticut State University was uneventful. I parked my car and met MaryAnn, who had parked her car a few spots just north of my spot. Inside the classroom building, we met up with Professor Schildroth and Michelle, the third part of our trio of presenters.
After the six students showed up, we watched half-hour of a film titled Switch: A Community in Transition. It was a documentary about a woman, who is half of a lesbian couple and has transitioned to male and how that transition affects her "community." It was very interesting and someday, I would like to see the rest of the film.
Professor Schildroth asked me to show the class my blog, which we projected on the big screen (Coming Soon: Femulate: The Movie!) and to talk about my experience at my law school reunion. I also threw in a very short version of my biography. After I was done, MaryAnn and Michelle gave their biographies and we waited for questions from the students.
The jury is still out on my prediction that the students would be less intimidated asking questions because the class was small. Four students asked questions, two did not, but the quality of the questions was better than usual.
One question was a new one for me: When did I know I was trans?
My answer: Growing up, I knew I was different because my peers and adults made it painfully clear that I was different. Basically, they thought I was a sissy and basically, I was just being myself.
Around puberty, I discovered crossdressing and I found it to be a good match for "myself." After that, I considered myself to be "a plain vanilla crossdresser," which in retrospect, was my way of denying that I was transsexual.
After living as a woman in New York City for four-days in June 2009, it was then that I realized that I am a woman.
After class, Professor Schildroth invited us to lunch at a nearby restaurant. Being noon hour, the place was packed, but a table was cleared for us and we were seated among the throng. I noticed a few people checking us out, but there was nothing untoward. It could have been nothing more than people just checking out other people the way people do. The waitstaff (both male and female) referred to us as "ladies" and so it goes.
I was a bit frustrated ordering my meal. The first two things I ordered were not available, so I settled for soup and salad.
We chatted about the class and read the students' comments. I was mentioned specifically in one comment --- something to the effect that I was not as "open" as MaryAnn and Michelle. Go figure?
I said my goodbyes and departed about 2 PM because I thought I had to be home soon, but when I called home from my car, I discovered that I did not need to be home so soon and had more time to be myself. So I went shopping at a nearby DressBarn.
As I walked into DressBarn, I noticed a dress hanging on a headless mannequin that I thought would be perfect for me (the dress, not the mannequin). The dress on the mannequin was my size, but I could only find larger sizes on the racks, so I asked a saleswoman to get me the dress off the mannequin. I took it and another dreamy dress to the dressing room.
The dress was a "Draped Brooch Shift" that is "Cinched slightly left of center by a slender brooch, this cap-sleeve shift drapes effortlessly. Fixed side wrap detail with brooch."
It fit like a glove, looked nice on me (IMHO), so I bought it. (That's me wearing it in the photo.)
The other dress was a metallic copper-colored shutter pleat cocktail dress from the 70% off clearance rack. I would have bought it if it fit properly. The first one I tried on was too small; I could not zip it up all the way. The second one I tried on was one size larger, but it was too big. Facing front, it looked very nice, but in profile, there was room for a lot more stomach than I ever wanted to be burdened with, so I gave it up.
After DressBarn, I experienced my worst nightmare, which you can read all about in yesterday's post. As it turned out, I passed that test, but there is no need to be tested like that again!
Fashion Note
Monday was the first time I wore thigh high stockings and I was very happy with this new (for me) hosiery option. They stayed high on my thigh the whole day; there was very little slippage.
I had close encounters with objects that often resulted in pulls and runs in my pantyhose. My Berkshire thigh highs had no problems with those same objects.
The only negative thing about wearing thigh highs is that I was very aware of the silicon band that held them up. The bands were not too tight and did not hurt; nor did they leave a mark on my legs after I removed them. But I could feel them on my thighs the whole time I wore the stockings. I imagine that I will get used to the bands after awhile. It certainly is not a show-stopper and I plan to add more thigh highs to my wardrobe real soon now.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Monday Woman
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
My Worst Nightmare
I was out femme all day Monday. (That’s me in the photo before going out.)
In the morning, I did outreach at a Human Sexuality class at Southern Connecticut State University.
After the class, the professor took us out to dine at a local New Haven eatery.
And after dining, I planned to return home. Before starting the car, I called home and discovered that my presence was not required at home as early as I had previously thought, so I had more time to spend out femme.
I pass a DressBarn on the way home, so I decided to stop and shop.
After shopping at DressBarn, I returned to my car and it won't start! The dashboard lights up, the radio plays, but when I turn the key, all I get is a loud ticking noise.
I have AAA, but I am a little concerned about dealing with AAA out femme.
As I am sitting in my car contemplating my next move and occasionally turning the ignition key to no avail, a small red pickup truck parks next to me just as I am cranking the ignition for the umpteenth time.
Two young fellows get out of the truck. They do not ask me if I needed help. Instead the driver walks to the front of my car and signals to me to pop the hood.
I gladly do so and the two of them poke around the engine compartment, but do not find anything amiss.
I have a set of jumper cables, so we tried jump starting the car, but that does not work.
Since my car has a manual transmission, they suggested rolling the car and popping the clutch to start it. (I had not done that in years and had completely forgotten about that trick.)
So they gave my car a little push. The car started rolling across the parking lot and I am trying to pop the clutch, but I am not getting the job done.
Just as I am about to run out of parking lot, I remember that I have to pop it into second gear, not first gear, and as soon as I did, the car started.
I waved my hand out the window to my two "good Samaritans" and headed straight home with my fingers crossed that nothing else would go wrong with my car.
I made it home without issue. This morning, I popped the clutch again to start the car and drove it to my dealer to get it fixed.
I always worried about having car problems when out femme. I thought it could be the worst thing that could happen. Now I am not so sure.
Maybe it is better to be a woman than a man when car problems strike. Would those two fellows be so quick to come to the rescue of a tall middle-aged guy as they were to come to the rescue of a leggy middle-aged blond?
I don't know and I am not anxious to find out again.