Revisiting Dayton

Two weeks ago, I was living full-time as a woman while attending the Hamvention in Dayton, Ohio. Here are a couple of thoughts about that experience that I did not mention in the Dayton diary that I posted here last week.

One Booth Babe to Another

Across the aisle from our booth at the Hamvention was a big booth that took up eight booth spaces in a 4 by 4 rectangular configuration. Stationed at opposite corners of that group of booths were two attractive 20-something women. Both wore very nice dresses and high heels (just like me) and all weekend long, they handed out stickers to people passing by and we exchanged smiles whenever we caught each other’s eyes.

The stickers were those white oval stickers that you see on the bumpers and rear windows of vehicles. Typically, they display an abbreviation for the location that the driver of the vehicle has visited, for example, "MV" for Martha's Vineyard or "PL" for Poland. But in this case, the stickers had "73" printed on them. (73 is ham radio lingo for "best regards" and is used instead of "good-bye" at the end of a contact between ham radio stations.)

The woman stationed closest to our booth wore a killer pair of high heels that I could picture in my shoe collection, but around 3 PM on Friday, I noticed that she switched to a lower heel, which she stuck with the rest of the weekend.

Saturday morning, while foot traffic was light, I went over to ask her for a sticker, which is now on the rear window of my Subaru. She gladly gave me a sticker.

I thanked her and then I mentioned that I loved the heels she had worn on Friday. She thanked me for complimenting her shoes and then we had a short chat about the perils of wearing heels while staffing a booth for 8 hours a day.

She had to get back to work handing out stickers, so we cut it short, but the girl talk was affirming nonetheless.

Trapped

My carpool buddy at Hamvention witnessed me carry a pair of flats around all weekend and when I drove, he patiently waited while I switched from heels to flats... not only this year, but in past years when we car-pooled at Hamvention. (What a gentleman!)

He has also witnessed me struggle with other aspects of being a woman like a few years ago when I "lost" the keys to my car. (After a panicky 15 minutes, I found the keys hiding inside my purse.)

When we left the picnic Saturday evening, I had a difficult time retrieving my car keys from that same purse because the lining of the purse was caught in the zipper. With my long nails, I struggled for a few minutes trying to undo the zipper, while my buddy stood by waiting patiently.

I was relieved when I finally opened the zipper and was able to retrieve my keys.
With that, my buddy commented, "I'm not sure that dealing with all the trappings of being a woman is worth it."

"You have a good point," I replied.

On the drive home, I thought about my friend’s comment and all the things involved trying to be a presentable woman... not just the trappings of being a woman, but all that stuff both physically and mentally that my guy self has to go through to present as a woman.

Considering everything, I must be crazy to go through it all. But yes, it is all worth it because I am crazy about being a woman.

 

 

 

Sophia Loren, London, 1957.

 

 

 

A beautiful female impersonator photographed in the early 20th Century.

Perfect Curve

In addition to the new hairdo, new dresses and new shoes that I wore to the Hamvention last week, I also wore new shapewear: the Squeem Perfect Waist.

I was such a satisfied customer of the Squeem Miracle Vest that I was anxious to try out the other products that Squeem offers and the Perfect Waist seemed like the logical choice.

Basically, the Perfect Waist is the Miracle Vest without shoulder straps and upper back and underarm support. If you do not have back fat issues, then the Perfect Waist is for you.

Perfect Waist knocked inches off my waistline and flattened my tummy to give me the girlish curves I so desired. A picture is worth a thousand words and the accompanying photo of me in the sheath dress I wore last Friday shows the results of what Perfect Waist can accomplish. I assure you that sans Perfect Waist, the curves you see in that photo do not exist.

Perfect Waist also improved my posture and provided back support that painlessly got me through two 8-hour days staffing the booth at the Hamvention. At the end of those days, my feet knew I wore high heels all day long, but my torso had no complaints from wearing Perfect Waist.

Like the Miracle Vest, the instructions for the Perfect Waist recommend breaking it in gradually by wearing it one hour the first time, two hours the second time, etc. But just like the first time I wore the Miracle Vest, the first time I wore the Perfect Waist, I was all-in and wore it for over 12 hours! I suffered no ill effects from wearing the Perfect Waist for 12 hours out of the box, perhaps because my body was already acclimated to wearing the Miracle Vest for extended periods of time, but your mileage may vary.

Perfect Waist is the perfect choice for girls like us who are seeking that perfect curve.

 

 

 

Actor Ben Sander femulating television personality Sabrina “Brini” Maxwell.

 

 

 

Joan Crawford

Dayton Nights Two and Three Detailed

Whereas my Dayton days two and three (Friday and Saturday) were similar and tend to blur together, my Dayton nights two and three were very different. Friday night, I attended our group's annual banquet and Saturday night, I attended a cookout at the home of one of the board members of my group who lives in the Dayton suburbs.

Banquet

Our banquet occurs in a banquet facility in the suburbs south of Dayton. The food is always excellent, the after-dinner speaker is usually a well-known name in ham radio, and as a result, we fill the hall every year.

I wore my new orange and black peplum dress from Fashion to Figure with the same accessories I wore during the day sans necklace.

I drove to the hall with my carpool buddy, John, who had the job of collecting tickets at the event. So we had to arrive as early as possible, but since we are among the earliest arrivals, we can get a good table up front.

I had to go to the ladies' room upon arrival, so John picked a table and prepared to collect tickets. When I got to the table, a gent was already seated there. I did not know him, so I sat myself down and introduced myself.

He was a retired electrical engineer, but had only been a ham for a year and was attending his first Hamvention. We got along swimmingly and chatted about our families, careers, ham radio and Hamvention.

Ten minutes or so later, an old friend, someone who knew me as a boy before he knew me as a girl, joined our table and the conversation. Then two more strangers joined our table and there were introductions all around. I struck up a conversation with the two newcomers and we had a nice chat.

Everyone I encountered at the banquet, male and female, guests and banquet hall employees alike, were friendly and I had a great time.

Cookout

I was a little worried about attending the cookout because of the weather. It was cold, rained throughout the day and I did not have proper clothing.

I wore black leggings with zippers on the cuffs from Macy's, a new blue peplum top from Fashion to Figure, black thigh-highs from Berkshire, mid-heel black "Daylight" wedges from Payless, and minimum jewelry. Over that outfit, I wore my blue Red Sox hoodie from my male wardrobe, which was the only piece of clothing I had that was appropriate for the weather.

When I entered the house, the hostess greeted me, "You're Stana, correct?"

She remembered me from when I attended the cookout two years ago. She was the perfect hostess to this transwoman on Saturday as she was in 2012.

There were about 50 people at the cookout. Some I knew (my fellow board members), most I did not, but almost all were very friendly... especially the guys. Guy after guy went out of their way to introduce themselves to me and chat awhile.

On the other hand, some of the other women in attendance were not so friendly. Most of the women were spouses of the guys in attendance and when my hostess introduced me to a table in a girl-boy-girl-boy arrangement, the girls were kind of cold. One woman in particular did not let up and sent daggers my way whenever I was in her vicinity.

Transphobia or jealousy? I like to think the latter, but you never know about the former.

The rain finally stopped, but the temperature was cold, so eating outdoors was a little uncomfortable, although the meal was excellent.

John and I both were leaving early Sunday morning, so we were the first to depart. As I said my final goodbyes, one of the fellows who was working at our booth came over and gave me a big hug. He has a transbrother and is sympathetic to transgender folks.

I appreciated the gesture and it was a beautiful way to end my trip to Dayton.

 

 

 

Johnnie David femulating in 1937.

 

 

 

Wearing Sue Wong.

Dayton Days Two and Three Detailed

Going to Hamvention is not a vacation in the sense that I can relax. Staffing a booth requires being up and running at the booth when the show opens. So just as if I was going to my day job, I was up at 5 AM to shave, shower, and dress and then add 30 to 45 minutes to do my makeup.

On Friday, I wore one of my new dresses from Fashion to Figure... a figure-hugging black and white sheath. Accessories included black thigh-highs from Berkshire, black patent "Janine" pumps from Payless, jewelry from Avon and Fashion Bug, and a black bag from Payless. I also brought along a pair of mid-heel black "Daylight" wedges from Payless in case the 3-inch Janine pumps wore out their welcome.

On Saturday, I wore my navy blue white polka dot dress from Avon with basically the same accessories as Friday except I wore a pearl necklace and white watch instead of a silver necklace and black watch.

On both days, I left my room and walked down the hall to the hotel restaurant at approximately 7 AM (my room was on the first floor just off the lobby). Found an empty table and had a banana, yogurt, and coffee while I people-watched the people who watched me when I entered the restaurant.

Nothing grabs the attention of a room full of guys like the sound of high heels entering the room. Everyone (even the women) stop what they are doing to see who is the source of that oh-so feminine sound and in this case, it happened to be me.

The same thing happened in the convention hall --- the sound of high heels acts like a siren to alert everyone to the presence of a siren.

I was one of the few people at the show in heels. Other women who staff booths wear sensible shoes unless they are "booth babes" and I don't recall seeing any "booth babes" at the show this year, so I might have been the only one in heels. By the way, I wore the heels all day. They were very comfortable and I never had to fall back to my wedges.

After breakfast, I returned to my room to freshen up and then returned to the lobby to meet up with the fellow who I would carpool with Friday and Saturday (he drove during the day and I drove at night). We arrived at the convention hall at about 8 AM and got ready for the throngs that would appear when the hall opened to the public at 9 AM.

I still run into old friends and acquaintances at Hamvention who are not aware of Stana and there were four instances of this occurrence over the weekend that were interesting. In all four cases, I had known the fellows for at least 10 to 15 years and in one case, it was over 40 years.

Three of the four guys acted exactly the same when they saw me, that is, they acted as if nothing was different. They were just as friendly as they had been in the past and chatted with me like old friends chat when they have not seen each other in awhile. The three made no mention of my change. It is possible that they were already aware of my change before encountering me in person, but nonetheless, they seemed to have no problem with it.

The fourth fellow was a little different. He was just as friendly and chatty as the other three, but he was genuinely excited about my transformation and specifically wanted to know the source of my shapely legs (blame my Mother).

Most of my old friends and acquaintances have acted in a similar manner. They accepted me as a friend before the change and now they found that same friend after the change (maybe a little more attractive than before the change), but the same friend nonetheless.

Strangers are different matter and most of the people I encountered over the weekend were strangers. Strangers are not aware of my past. When they see me they see someone presenting as a tall woman, so they assume that I am a tall woman until I give them evidence that is contrary to that presentation. For example, a couple of times I inadvertently slipped into my normal male voice and I realized what had happened when I noticed strangers  noticing the discrepancy between my voice and the rest of my presentation.

Standing in the booth, I had a smile pasted on my face most of the time. Many men and almost all the women who came my way returned the smile with some even adding a "Hi" or "Hello."

And two women even came over to say, "I love your dress!"

I love that!

 

 

 

B. Scott, the beautiful femulating TV, radio and Internet personality

 

 

 

Wearing Kamalikulture.

Dayton Days Zero and One Detailed

Wednesday (Dayton Day Zero)

Wednesday was a travel day in boy mode because I left home as early as possible to beat the bad weather.

Except for two short downpours in central Pennsylvania, the weather on the first leg of the trip was fine for driving.  I drove 7-1/2 hours and stayed at a hotel on the Ohio-Pennsylvania border;  when I exited my car at the hotel, I was surprised by the heat and humidity. The temperature was in the high 80's and the humidity was in the same neighborhood.

After I settled into my hotel room, all hell broke loose. The sky turned black and there was a thundershower with pea-sized hail. A cold front blew through and the temperature dropped and stayed low throughout the Hamvention (I woke up to sub-40 degree temps each morning in Dayton).  And it rained off and on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.

I did not expect the low temperatures and all the outfits I packed were sleeveless. Luckily I had brought a trench coat and hoody!

Thursday (Dayton Day One)

Up at 5 AM (as usual), I shaved, showered and did my makeup.

My makeup collection is contained in a big tackle box that I bought years ago. It has everything I need, but do I need everything?

I was determined to make an effort to keep track of exactly what I used throughout the weekend so that in the future, I could travel a little lighter makeup wise.

Thursday, I wore my new black jumpsuit from Fashion to Figure, nude 3-inch high heels from Payless, and accessorized with jewelry and a nude bag from Avon. Also, I wore a new do for the first time (Meredith from Henry Margu). Its color is "Gold Blonde with Glazed Strawberry Blonde Highlights."

I checked myself out in the full-length mirror, thought to myself, "Yes - you are a woman,"  took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

The hallway was deserted.

I pressed the button for the elevator. When it arrived, a young couple were already on board. Since I was on the top floor of the hotel, I waited for them to exit.

When they realized what I was doing, they motioned for me to get on board. Turned out that they were going down, too, but got on the elevator from the floor below when it was going up to get me. When the elevator went down and stopped at the next floor, I joked, "This is where you get on."

They laughed at my little joke. When we arrived at the lobby, they let the funny old lady (me) get off first.

I went to the dining area and there were two couples seated and eating. A senior gent from one of the couples watched me intently while I selected the items for my breakfast (yogurt, fruit and coffee). I think he wanted a date, but all they had were apples and oranges.

I ate while watching the news on the television. There was a tornado that did some destruction overnight elsewhere in Ohio. I was not surprised considering the kind of weather that I saw in my neck of the woods Wednesday evening.

After breakfast, I returned to my room to freshen up, moved my bags to my car and checked out. This was the potential exciting part because I checked in presenting as a male, but I was checking out presenting as a female.

The potential for excitement would be even higher if the same person who checked me in was working the front desk when I checked out, but she was a no-show. The fellow working the desk was the same fellow who was working the desk when I checked out last year (I have stayed at the same hotel three years in a row). He was polite as could be, used the correct pronouns and gave away no hints that he knew anything was amiss.

There was no excitement until I got back on the Interstate and encountered a deluge just north of Columbus. The rain was falling so heavily for a minute or so that visibility was next to zero, so I slowed down to a crawl until the rain let up a bit.

I arrived at my hotel in Dayton and checked in. Liz, a very young lady was working the front desk and she was as accommodating as could be. She did not bat an eye when I asked her to change the name on my reservation because there was an error (a male first name - how did that happen!) --- I wanted the name on the reservation to match the name (Stana) on my Hilton Honors Awards card.

After checking in, I moved my luggage to the room and relaxed while reading my e-mails. After an hour, I was bored, so I moved to the lobby to people-watch while reading my e-mails. Most of the people I watched were fellow board members of my group who were either staying in the hotel or were showing up early for our 6 PM board meeting.

My iPhone rang and it was another board member who was in charge of paying the bills for the meeting. He called to ask me if I, as the group's secretary, knew if anyone had arranged for food for the board meeting. No one had, so he met me in the lobby to discuss the matter while looking over menus of local food providers. We quickly made an executive decision to order apizza and salad.

After  returning to my room to get a cold drink and freshen my makeup, I proceeded to the meeting room for the board meeting. I greeted the two board members, who were already present, then took a seat. One-by-one, the other board members arrived and the meeting got underway after everyone had a chance to get salad and apizza.

I will not go into details about the board meeting except to say that everyone who knew me before femulation treated me as they always have. The only difference was that they now use different pronouns (and they have become very good at doing that).

On the other hand, the two newcomers at the meeting, who did not know the old me, did not have to use new pronouns and they treated me as a woman because that's all they know.

 

 

 

Actor Anthony Berry femulating on British television’s Coronation Street in 2007.

 

 

 

Wearing Lafayette 148 New York.

Dayton Day Four

After 12 hours on 710 miles of bad road, I arrived home, unloaded the car and went to bed.

I have a lot of catching up to do and will get to it as quickly as possible. Until then, I leave you with today’s installment of Lila (she and I were separated at birth!).

Dayton Day Three

I got back from the Hamvention about an hour ago, packed my bags for the trip home on Sunday and before I crash, I am posting a photo of the outfit I wore last night (a peplum dress from Fashion to Figure).

I will be on the road for about 12 hours tomorrow. When I get back home, I will write all about my trip and post it here.

Until then, 88!

Dayton Day Two

Today was busy from start to finish. I am ready to turn out the lights and rest up for another busy day on Saturday.

Like yesterday, I will leave you with a photo of the outfit I wore today. The photo was taken a few minutes before 9 AM when the doors opened to let in 20,000 attendees.

Dayton Day One

It was a very busy and full day today. Tomorrow will be even busier at Hamvention.

I am going to bed now because I have to get up early, but I will leave you with this photo of the outfit I wore today.

Ohio is not a palindrome

I traveled 7-1/2 hours today and I am staying in a hotel in eastern Ohio for the night. On to Dayton and Hamvention in the morning.

Not much to say about the day femulation-wise. I did not travel en femme because I left home as early as possible to beat the bad weather that was in the forecast and that I did.

I will dress en femme in the morning, have breakfast and then check out of the hotel as a woman, which is always interesting after having checked into the hotel as a guy!

Dyke is a Four-Letter Word!

My post here last Monday, Tranny is Not a Four-Letter Word!, received a mixed reception. Some people agreed with me... that the trans community should reclaim the word "tranny" from the slanderers, while other people disagreed with me, don't want anything to do with the word and insist that everyone should stop using it.

Which brought to mind something that happened to me when I was in New York City a few years ago. I was en femme walking up Fifth Avenue near Rockefeller Center on a beautiful Sunday afternoon in June. Approaching me were a group of three or four high school-aged guys. I did not pay much attention to them, but as we passed each other, one of the guys shouts out, "Dyke," referring to me.

Although some lesbian groups have tried to reclaim it, the last time I looked it up, dyke was still generally considered "a derogatory label for a masculine woman."

I assumed that the guy thought he was insulting me, but little did he know that calling me a “dyke” was high praise and an affirmation of my womanhood. Sure, I would have preferred to be called "femme," but being regarded as a masculine woman is a lot better than being regarded as a guy in a dress! After all, I was presenting as feminine as I could manage while constrained by my Amazonian size.

I always present as feminine as possible. I have invested a lot of time and money into my presentation and I think it pays off because I seldom get called out as a guy in a dress. I do get a lot of looks and you can never be sure if they are looking because you are looking good or because you are looking trans. I am sure my presentation confuses some, but I believe that my presentation is good enough so that the confused are not sure what's really in my panties.

Dyke is as bad as it ever gets and that is actually pretty good!

 

 

 

Actor David Drake femulating on stage in My Tawny Valentine, 2012.

 

 

 

Wearing Trina Turk.

One Person's Journey to Womanhood – Part 7

By Monica M

In my thirties, I had a big purge. It was really the only purge that I did and the nylon wig went to its final resting place. I don't even remember why I purged; I think it was because I was moving.

Another thing that happened about that time was that I got into transcendental meditation. I meditated (I almost said religiously!) regularly and for a number of years, it worked for me. I don't think I crossdressed for about 5 years… what a waste! :)

Like most men, in my twenties and thirties, I was a keen watcher of women. But while most men wanted to get inside their panties, I wanted to get inside their panties in a totally different way! During the meditation days, even that stopped. So, maybe there is a cure! :)

In my late thirties, we moved to a new city and I dropped the meditation and, lo and behold, the old feelings gradually wound their way back into my psyche. As we did not have any kids, I was able to start indulging my hobby a bit more. Internet shopping was just about taking off and things started to change quickly in the wardrobe front. The “trashy tranny” phase was over and a more bohemian style took its place.

We both lived about 20 minutes away from our workplaces and one of the funnier incidents I remember from that time was when I was working from home one day. I decided to try on one of my wife's more formal dresses that she had not worn for a long time. We are similar in size, but not that similar. This was a dress that she had bought for a wedding and never really liked it afterwards. Being bored and wanting a break from my work, I decided to try it on. I was still in my pre makeup days, so all I needed was a shower and some underwear.

I got the dress on no problem, but, as I zipped it up, the zipper got stuck half way. It was right in the middle of my back and I could just barely reach it, so I could not get it up or get it down. I knew I had two choices: either break the zip and suffer the wrath of my dear wife or call her to come home during lunch time and zip me out of the dress and suffer the wrath of my dear wife. I chose to call her. She was not very amused, but saw the funny side of it. We laugh about it now!

In my mid-forties, we moved again. But this time, to a small community. As I was not out nor going out, this was not an issue. I just had to make sure that the neighbors could not see anything through the windows while I was dressed and make sure that I did not answer the door if anybody came.

The first couple of times that anybody did come to the door, I rushed around getting my guy clothes on and making some excuse for why it took me so long to get to the door. One incident I remember is getting to the door, asking them to come in for coffee and as I am closing the door – fortunately while they had their backs to me – noticing that I still had my rings on. I stuffed my hand in my pocket and mumbled something about having to go to the bathroom.

Now I am much wiser, I don't answer the door. However, it can be very nerve-racking listening to people outside your door and ringing your bell while you are inside en femme.

In my late forties, I learned about professional makeovers and was determined to get one. When we went on holiday in 2004, not only did I get a professional makeover… I got two! Each one was done by a different salon. But more about that along with some photos next time.

(Part 6 of One Person’s Journey to Womanhood appeared here yesterday.)

 

 

 

A femulator in her kitchen.

 

 

 

Wearing Madeleine.

One Person's Journey to Womanhood – Part 5

By Monica M

In my twenties (this was before the Internet), I was gradually becoming aware (because I had read in magazines somewhere) that I was not alone. There were other 'weirdo’s' out there like me.

I had never mentioned anything about who I was to anybody. I remember once, while I was still living at home, my mother praising me for being an all-around nice and good person. I said to her that she had no idea who I really was and that if she really knew, she might not think so highly of me. Of course, I was thinking of my big secret: my transgender side.

She brushed it off with the comment that of course, as she was my mother, she knew what I was really like. She was right and she was wrong. The basic person was the same, but the operating software was radically different. She never saw the results of the software directly.

In my twenties after I had moved away from home and was earning my own money in the big city, things started to change. I still had no name for my female side. The name Monica did not come to me until my 40's.

My twenties was the era of catalogue-shopping. With the help of my wife and her clothes, I was able to gauge my size and order from the catalogues. My wife was very happy to help me buy underwear and other accessories in department stores. Of course, I would be standing beside her looking furtive as if everybody knew she was buying for me. It was so embarrassing and humiliating! So different now, when I was in Boston in October, I went for a bra-fitting; I did not even break sweat when the lady asked to feel the weight of my falsies!

Gradually I built up a wardrobe. My wife was fully aware that I dressed when she was out and she was happy with that. However, she did not want to see me dressed when she got home.

Unfortunately, I do not have any photos from that era. But, in hindsight, it really was a time of fetish and “trashy tranny.” It almost makes me blush to think of it now.

I lived near a wig store… one of those 80's stores that sold nylon wigs and various types of hippie clothes. After many weeks of walking past the shop, I finally screwed up my courage and walked in. I pretended I was buying a wig for my wife. Why my wife would want a long haired nylon wig never dawned on me! I picked one out that was nearly down to my waist (I found out later when I got home) and said to the shop assistant, “I think she will like that.” As usual, the only person I was fooling was I.

Picturing it now, I must have looked like something out of The Night of the Living Dead when dressed. No makeup (and no beard cover!), long hair to my waist and skirt and hair almost meeting at the same place! And underneath, a girdle with enough elastic to make a medieval catapult! No wonder my wife did not want to see me!

In my thirties, we were into the Internet age and by then I knew I was part of a community. Through my exploration on the net, I knew about hormones, sex changes, meetings, special websites and clothes for transgender people. I even learned that there was a bar about half an hour away from me where people met in drag every Friday night. I am not sure if I was still in denial about who I was or if I was just too plain scared to dress and get on public transport to go there. Probably the latter! I had grown up with a lot of ridicule and it is often hard for me to handle that. I really wanted to go out dressed, but that was long way into the future.

(Part 4 of One Person’s Journey to Womanhood appeared here on Friday.)

 

 

 

Kristen Marie Rhea

 

 

 

Wearing Sharagano.

Tranny is Not a Four-Letter Word!

I have sat on the sidelines watching while the word “tranny” was hijacked by people who have little or no regard for our community and use the word as put-down and/or insult. 

Instead of reclaiming the word, some of our community have declared the word to be verboten. Trannies should stop using the word and anyone outside the community who uses the word should be called out for political incorrectness.

This did not sit well with me. 

I like the word “tranny” and have been using it forever. Although I have not used the word much here in the blog, I use it in conversations with trannies and non-trannies alike without giving it a thought. 

Since I am the biggest tranny around, the folks who hear me use the word know I am not putting myself down when I use the word. And most of the non-trannies I converse with are probably not even aware that anyone considers it a put-down.

So WTF — I am going to do my part to reclaim the word as our own by freely using it in writing as well as in conversation. 

Warning! Wilma Robinson — This blog is no longer a “tranny” free zone.

(For more on this topic, please read Zagria’s take on tranny, which inspired me to write this.)

Boris Aprel, model.

Wearing Our Dress.

The Best Gurls from Recent Womanless Pageants

Yesterday, Aunty Marlena sent me links to some recent womanless events. I separated the wheat from the chaff (or the boys from the gurls) and present the best of the batch here for your appreciation.

In the Junior Division, we have the Brookeland (TX) Independent School District 2009-2010 Womanless Wildcat Pageant (left) and the Green Sea Floyds High School (Conway, SC) 2011-2012 Mr. Green Sea Floyds Pageant (right). Although a mustachioed gurl was the winner of the Mr. Green Sea Floyds Pageant, overall that pageant had higher quality femulations than the Womanless Wildcat Pageant.

In the Senior Division, there were womanless beauty pageants at the Dillon, SC, Latta United Methodist Church and in Coffee Springs, AL. In both pageants, most of the contestants were "men in dresses" or worse, bearded men in dresses (yuck!), but each pageant featured one diamond in the rough.

The gurl above left was the cutest, by far, in the Dillon contest. With a better wig, she could femulate full-time.

The gurl above right in the Coffee Springs competition was outstanding. There was only this one photo of her, but from what I could tell, she had her own hair coiffed in an up do. Also, it looks like she had her eyebrows thinned out to go along with her perfect makeup application, beautiful evening gown and accessories. I wonder if she is a reader of this blog (if you know what I mean).