Battery Day

Lately, the batteries in my iPhone and MacBook Pro have been discharging rapidly. The iPhone is over five years old and the MacBook is over six years old, so I figured it was time to replace their original batteries.

Amazon sells replacement battery kits for $15 and $50 respectively. Both kits include all the tools required for the task.

I viewed how-to videos on YouTube. The only difficult part of the tasks seemed to be removing the old batteries, which were attached to the iPhone and MacBook cases with a two-sided tape-like adhesive. In the past, I've handled worse do-it-yourself computer tasks successfully, so I ordered the batteries from Amazon.

Saturday was Battery Day.

The iPhone battery replacement was not too bad. Working with the tiny screws with my 68-year-old eyes was the most difficult part of the task.

Removing the two-sided tape was a little tricky. You are supposed to grab the tape at one end of the battery and pull it out from under the battery, but the tape kept ripping in my fingers tips. I finally used a needle nose plier to get a good grip on the tape and pulled it out.

The job took about 30 minutes from start to finish and was a success. The iPhone is now like new with regard to its battery discharge rate.

The MacBook Pro battery replacement was easier than I expected because the glue holding the battery to the computer case had dried out over the past six years and it did not take much prying with a small chisel to free the battery. It took about 45 minutes to do the job and like the iPhone, the MacBook Pro's battery discharge rate is like new now.

I would have completed the MacBook battery replacement more quickly except that I had a big surprise when I opened the case: dust all over the interior of the computer including large dustballs, as you can see in the photo above. It took an extra 10 to 15 minutes to remove all the dust before I screwed the cover back on to the MacBook case.

I was very pleased with the results. Besides saving money, I also saved time by avoiding a visit to the Apple store.

Being read in a good way! (Source: Cellfina)

The Bigwood Twins, early 20th Century professional femulators

Don’t Leave Home without It

I have had car troubles twice while en femme (a dead battery and a flat tire). In both cases, I was lucky and gentlemen came to my rescue. I did not have to lift a finger to get back on the road.

But gentlemen are not always available, so a girl should be prepared for the worst case scenario. Lifehacker.com posted an article describing safety tools you should have in your car. Here is a list of those tools, but I advise you to consult the Lifehacker article for the details:

• blindspot mirror
• tire pressure tools
• rechargeable battery booster
• flares, lights or other signals
• seatbelt cutter and window breaker

I don't have a battery booster in my car, but I do carry jumper cables (and I know how to use them). 

Also, I belong to AAA, so I guess a gentleman is always available if need be.

Happy Motoring!

Wearing Venus

Reading Femulate from north of the border is Robin Southern.

Gadgets

Now that I own an iPhone, I am considering not lugging my laptop and digital camera to Dayton.

With my iPhone, I can write and post to my blog, do e-mail, and take photos.

If I bring my digital camera to take photos for blog posts from Dayton, then I have to bring my laptop because it is my only gateway for transferring photos from my camera to the blogosphere. Bringing the camera and laptop also necessitates bringing their battery chargers, a spare camera battery, a cable to connect the two, and a bag to carry the laptop.

I can type faster and more accurately with my laptop, but to tell the truth, during Hamvention there is not much time to blog. I usually post a few words and a photo each day, which is as easy as pie with my iPhone.

What would you do?

Femulating Friday

What’s New Dept.

A week ago, a new computer arrived at Femulate headquarters and I have been busy setting it up. That is the reason there have been no new posts here since Sunday.

The old computer was literally falling apart. Part of the lid broke off and a couple of keys were intermittent. IT (I) replaced the battery in the spring, but it did not improve battery life much. So the Femulate board of directors approved the purchase of a new computer.

I hemmed and hawed over what to buy for over a month. I finally decided to purchase a new 15-inch MacBook Pro to replace my 7-year-old 15-inch MacBook Pro. 

Just as I was about to order a new computer, news arrived that Apple was introducing a new 16-inch MacBook Pro on Thursday. I did not hesitate. I placed an order on Wednesday and FedEx delivered the new computer on Friday.

I’m so glad that I hemmed and hawed!

Brothers Will Be Sisters Dept.

YouTube knows that I am a femulator, so whenever I visit YouTube, it offers me a bunch of femulator-oriented videos to view.

I could not help noticing the proliferation of videos in which a female makes over her brother. Some of the makeover results are amazing. Due to family resemblance, the brother may end up resembling his sister, which is likely to occur because the sister is making her brother up using the same techniques she uses to makeup her self. And in some cases, the sister’s goal is to makeover her brother to look just like her.

The brothers are very cooperative. Some try to hang onto their masculinity by joking about their transformation, but in the end, they permit their sisters to complete the job and seem to enjoy the results.

There are variations of the brother makeover theme: girlfriends making over their boyfriends, mothers making overs their sons and wives making over their husbands. 

Beware! There are some fakes out there in YouTube Land, but after you separate the wheat from the chaff, there are hundreds of genuine transformations.

Wearing Wholesale7

Another variation: femulating brother transforms her brother. See for yourself here!

Chivalry Lives Again

The day my car battery died!

Velma’s story, posted here on Monday, reminded me of one of my encounters with chivalry.

On my way home after doing outreach at a Human Sexuality class at Southern Connecticut State University, I stopped at Dress Barn. After shopping, I returned to my car and it won't start! The dashboard lit up, the radio played, but when I turn the key, all I get is a loud ticking noise.

I had AAA, but I was a little concerned about dealing with AAA en femme.

As I sat in my car contemplating my next move and occasionally turning the ignition key to no avail, a small red pickup truck parked next to me just as I am cranked the ignition for the umpteenth time.

Two young fellows got out of the truck. They do not ask me if I needed help. Instead the driver walked to the front of my car and signaled to me to pop open the hood.

I gladly did so and the two of them poked around the engine compartment, but did not find anything amiss.

I had a set of jumper cables, so we tried jump starting the car, but that did not work.

Since my car had 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 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 remembered 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. Next morning, I popped the clutch again to start the car and drove it to my dealer to get it fixed (my car needed a new battery).

I always worried about having car problems when en 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.

Wearing Unique Vintage

Chris Rock femulating on a 1995 episode of television’s The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. See the video here.

my hair removal tools

Yesterday, I mentioned how removing hair is the only part of the art of femulation that I do not like. I love the results, but getting those results is not much fun.

Since hair removal is a "job," my goal is to get it done quickly, but effectively. So, after femulating for the better part of five decades, I have learned a few things about hair removal and I will share the contents of my hair removal toolbox with you.

For my face, I use Gillette's Fusion razor (the manual version) and Edge shaving gel. Fusion's five-blade razor gives me the best shave I have ever had and its built-in trimmer gets those spots that the five blades can't cut.

Speaking of cuts, I have never gotten nicked using Fusion. And regarding Edge, I have also used generic store brand shaving gels and have not noticed any difference between them and Edge.

For my legs, feet, hands, arms, shoulders, and breasts (making sure to avoid the armpits, nipples, and lower neck), I use Veet hair removal cream. It works quickly and does a very thorough job.

Nair works just as well, but I prefer Veet because it comes in a pump dispenser as compared with Nair's squeeze bottle. I find that the pump is neater to use; it dispenses exactly the amount I want where I want it.

For my armpits, nipples, and lower neck area, which are sensitive to chemical hair removal products, I use a Norelco three-head rotary electric razor.

For my armpits, I powder my pits with Gold Bond medicated powder first, then I trim the hair with the sideburn trimmer built into the Norelco.

For my back, I use the Mangroomer electric back hair shaver. It has a folding arm, when unfolded lets you shave those spots on your back that you can't reach with a normal razor. The Mangroomer is battery-powered, but it is not a battery drainer; I have used the Mangroomer numerous times on the original set of batteries and have not noticed any loss of effectiveness.

For my eyebrows, nose, and ears, I use Avon's electronic brow trimmer. It works great to thin out my eyebrows and by removing its adjustable brow guide, it does a great job removing nose and ear hair, too.

My Expensive Watch Batteries

Yesterday, I planned to dress en femme, meet my friend Diana (of Little Corner in the Nutmeg State fame) at the Meriden (CT) mall, carpool to Southern Connecticut State University (it was my turn to drive), participate in Q&A in two Human Sexuality classes, and optionally, dine after class.

I wore my new houndstooth dress, nude pantyhose, black patent open toe slingbacks, black bag, and black sweater coat. A watch, ring and earrings were my only jewelry. It was so warm yesterday that I didn't need the sweater coat until the evening.

On my way to the mall, I passed a tractor trailer on the Interstate and the driver beeped (I assume) in appreciation of my leg show. Seated in the Subaru, my knee-length hem had migrated to mid-thigh. That was a first for me and I waved in appreciation after I passed.

I arrived at the mall about an hour before I was supposed to meet Diana. She planed to get a new battery for her watch and since I had two watches with the same needs, I brought them along and visited the watch kiosk after entering the mall. The young man in the watch kiosk said to come back for the watches in 20 to 30 minutes, so I window-shopped in the meantime.

First stop was Payless. I have bought a lot of shoes lately and really did  not need another pair, but Payless had just sent me a 30% off coupon, so I just had to visit their store.

They had a nice selection in my size, but the only pair that demanded my attention were a pair of khaki peep toe "bootines." I had my doubts that they would fit because they looked too small, but when I tried them on, they fit perfectly and were very comfortable to boot. (The online reviews claim that the bootines are very comfortable and all-day-wearable.)

I bought the bootines and with my coupon, the $39.99 pair cost me $27.99.

I liked them so much that I wanted to wear them out of the store, but the saleswoman and I agreed that although they were very cute, the color did not go with my outfit. (In retrospect, I should have bought a pair in black, too.)

Directly across the mall from Payless is Torrid. I seldom visit their store because they gear their clothing toward an age group that no longer accepts me as a member. But occasionally I find something there that I can wear at my advanced age, so I went in.

I did not find anything until I toured the clearance rack, where a pretty ivory floral taffeta party dress with an empire waist and bubble hem was calling my name. I tried it on and it was a perfect fit.

Since the dress is a clearance item, it is no longer on the Torrid website. The only image I have to illustrate it is this out-of-focus photo I took in the dressing room, but I think it is adequate to show you how darling the dress is and why I could not resist buying it. 

The saleswoman mentioned that I could save 15% off the $49.99 clearance price if I signed up for a credit card. I am always willing to save 15%, so I agreed and she entered my Social Security number into the system to process my credit card application.

During the process, she double-checked my personal data and when she got to my name, she said, "Stanley?" with a big question mark.

I said, "Yes, but I am not 'Stanley' today."

She smiled and continued with the transaction, handed me a temporary credit card, and I was out the door.

The watch batteries were starting to get very expensive, so I decided to head back to the watch kiosk and retrieve my timepieces. The watches were ready and the man rang me up.

I assumed it was about time for Diana to show up for her watch battery replacement, so I found a seat near the kiosk and hung back waiting for Diana.

Ten minutes or so passed and no Diana. With about ten minutes left before our scheduled rendezvous, I decided to wait in my car because either I had missed Diana in the mall or she was running late.

I waited in the car for ten minutes, then I cruised the parking lots in case there was any misinterpretation of our rendezvous point, but no Diana nor Diana's Prius.

I now regretted leaving the cell phone at home.

Time was running out, so I gave up on Diana and drove to New Haven.

Diana showed up at the University about 15 minutes after I arrived. Turns out that she had taken a nap, overslept, and awoke just about the time we were supposed to meet.

That was yesterday morning; my next post describes yesterday afternoon.

I'm a Traveling Ma’am

Romney asked me for my views and advice about “traveling pretty.”

The term “traveling pretty” was popularized in a blog titled “Traveling Transgender” written by Kimberly Huddle, who flew regularly en femme. Kim has not posted anything since April 2020, but her blog had a great run for over 12 years and is well-worth visiting to read her flying pretty adventures (especially since I have never flown en femme, so have no advice to offer on that matter).

All my traveling pretty has been in a motor vehicle, mostly in my Subaru. And I have done so throughout Southern New England as well as New Jersey, New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania and West Virginia. The only advice I offer about driving en femme is to follow the rules of the road to avoid close encounters with officials wearing badges. 

No surprise here, but male drivers will take advantage of woman drivers. Men drive more aggressively when they cross paths with me. They assume that I will back off and give them the right of way, which I usually do, not because I am meek and mild, but because I am en femme and I do not want to get into an accident.

The worst that can happen traveling pretty in a motor vehicle is having an accident. Dealing with police and a potentially irate driver (of the other vehicle) is not my cup of tea. Luckily, I have never had an accident en femme despite driving a standard transmission vehicle in high heels over 14,000 miles. 

Almost as bad as having an accident is having a vehicle breakdown. 

Years ago after an outreach session, I returned to my Subaru and it would not start. I have AAA, but was not anxious to face a AAA man while I was en femme. So I popped the hood to have a look, found nothing suspicious and got back in the Subaru to try starting the car to no avail.

A small pickup truck pulled up next to me and two young fellows got out to offer assistance. After trying a few things unsuccessfully, they suggested trying to start the car by popping the clutch. I was parked on an incline, so all they had to do was give my car a little nudge and I was on my way, popping the clutch and getting a new battery the next day.

(Today, I have much more experience en femme dealing with men, so I would not hesitate to call AAA.)

Roadtrips require stops for gas, food, rest rooms and overnight stays. Dealing with civilians who sell gas, food and overnight accommodations is no worse than dealing with the sales rep at your favorite boutique; they want your money, so they will treat you nicely in order to collect it. I have never had a problem – even those times when I checked into a hotel en homme and checked out en femme. No one batted an eye.

Rest rooms are a different story. In Connecticut, it is legal to use a rest room that matches your gender presentation, but in some states, it is illegal to use a rest room designated opposite your birth gender. Seeking out a “family” designated rest room is your safest bet. However, that option is not always available, so you might have to throw caution to the wind and use a rest room designated opposite your birth gender. For what it’s worth, I always use the women's rest room wherever I am and have never had a problem. But your mileage may vary.  

I love traveling pretty and cannot wait for this pandemic to end so I can continue my travels en femme.

Bon voyage!

 

Wearing New York & Company

John Ritter femulating in a 1977 episode of The Love Boat. Just as I would never be pegged as a “civilian” in light of my history of public Halloween femulations, I believe that Ms. Ritter is in the same boat. He managed to find himself en femme in one too many of his television and film appearances.

The Reality of Dreams

Coincidently, the night before Lisa sent me the following article, I dreamed that I was searching desperately for a red bra. (Why? I don’t know.) I woke up after going through my mother’s bras and coming up empty-handed! Go figure. (By the way, I seldom remember my dreams.)

By Lisa Phelps

When you dream, what do you dream about?

I asked Stana that question back in February. If she doesn’t mind me saying so, she mentioned that now she is typically a woman in her dreams, although that was not always the case. My friend Jocelyn also touched on the question in a recent post on Kandi’s Land.

I had a dream on December 22nd that had me scratching my head at first. In this dream I am with a teenager girl in a small chapel – a place of contemplation. I am definitely male and she is definitely young. She is thin and doesn’t yet have her “womanly” figure, but she has beautiful long blond hair and delicate, porcelain features. It is clear that she will one day be beautiful. 

We sit on a small love seat and I put my arm around her. There are a few other people in the room and they are saying to me, “You know she is only 17 and you are nearly 25, so she is too young for you.” In my dream, I think to myself, “It is only an eight year difference, but you are probably right. She is too young for me.”

When I awoke, I was perplexed. Why would I be so obviously a male in my dream, when I clearly feel feminine far more than masculine these days? Why wasn’t I the girl? Here’s where my dream interpretations took me. 

Before going to bed, I had been thinking about a young lady of about 14 I had seen at church during Advent. She wore a black sparkly short skirt with a white fluffy sweater over it. Her long, blond hair cascaded down her back. I was envious of her because she was so lovely, she was being kind to her younger sister and she seemed to be part of a beautiful family with several girls in it. As I drifted off to sleep, I was thinking that I wanted to have a dream that I was her, so that I could enjoy “her life” (vicariously). 

The other piece of the puzzle is my age in the dream (25). Twenty-five was the adult male me because I reached my adulthood living as a male. But I think it is the dialog which holds the key to interpreting this dream. Those around me, as well as me (the male in the story), were saying she is too young for you. Therefore, I believe that “she” was a me that I could never be – my subconscious brain was saying that I could never go back and be a young woman like the young woman I saw in church. I can’t go back in time and live my life as a cisgender female teenager. Lest you think that idea causes me distress, I must say that it does not because despite the fact that I identified with females as a teenager, I lived a very full life as a male teenager.

Other dreams come to mind that relate to my dysphoria that you may find interesting.

A couple of months ago, I began discussions with my wife about taking female hormones in a small dose to help alleviate my dysphoria. That discussion induced a very interesting dream involving a train. I am standing on a raised bridge in Japan waiting for a train with my wife and a group of people. There is no railing on the raised bridge and I am distracted by a train official who is walking too close to the edge. 

When I look up again, I realize that the group is gone – apparently the train was ready to depart and they have left on it. On the platform below I see a train looking like it is about to depart. As I sprint toward it, I see that the doors are closing and I won’t make it. Undeterred, I notice a bench by the side of one of the carriages that has an open carriage window and decide that I will use it to catch my train. In an incredible, athletic (only to be attempted in a dream!) move, I vault off the bench like a spear, right through the open window. I pull myself together on the floor and realize that I am in the First Class section. I go to the Second Class car to find my wife, but none of my group can be found. I awoke very distressed that I had left my wife behind. I don’t think you need me to interpret that dream!

Back in the summer, as I contemplated the idea of taking hormones, I had a dream that also took place inside a church, where I found myself standing next to a pool of crystal clear water (not unlike a really large baptismal pool). A lad next to me told me that if I could hold my breath for a long time, I could dive deep in the water and reach an opening into another “room” deep under the pool. 

I seized the opportunity and dove down, discovering an opening at the bottom which I could squeeze through. On the other side was an underwater room. I was amazed that my air wasn’t running out. There were others gathered there, enjoying their time by swimming to and fro with great abandon.

After a few minutes, I feared that I might run out of air, so I squeezed back through the opening and went back to the surface. After reaching the top, I missed being in the room and almost immediately yearned to go down again. Breathing in deeply, I took the journey back down in the water to the narrow opening. The doorway (if you could even call it that) wasn’t as big as it had been before, but I wasn’t too worried about that because I could still squeeze through it. I rejoined the group and this time stayed even longer.

After a time, I thought it best to return to “my world,” so I headed back to the opening. It had narrowed even further this time. Once again back on top, I made a great effort to stay away from the pool. Yet, I found that it was calling out to me and it took great effort to stay away.

Eventually, the desire to descend again into the watery depths overcame me. Once again, I dove into the deep pool. This time, however, the opening had narrowed so much that I feared it would be impossible for me to go through it. Yet, when I stuck my hand through the crack that remained, I found that the rest of my body was able to follow. I quickly joined the youthful and fun group in the room – everyone was full of life. I completely lost track of time.

When I finally realized that it was time to return to the surface, the hole was now the size of a softball. It seemed impossible for anyone to get through it. One young boy managed to get through somehow, but by the time I went up to the spot, all that was left was a hole the diameter of a dime. I put my head against it anyway and one of new friends grabbed my feet and gave me a big push, but, nothing happened. The door back to the surface world apparently was now closed for good. Although that thought was unnerving, I realized that although I might not be able to return to the world I had known, this new place was delightful in its own way, so I had nothing to fear.

To me the “other room” is my female side.

Finally, I should also mention the interesting dream I had earlier in the year involving my wonderful spouse (who is “don’t ask, don’t tell” most of the time and never wants to see me as a female) that prompted me to ask Stana about her dreams. In this dream, my wife and I were standing at the top of a high mountain ridge shouting the names of those we love so they would echo off some canyon walls below. We listed all of our children, our now deceased parents and each other and then she yelled, “I love Lisa!” When I turned to her in surprise, she smiled and said, “She [our daughter] told me, and it's OK.”

In reality, my wife doesn’t know my female name and I doubt she would react like that if she knew, but in my dream, she used that occasion to affirm me. It gave me warm fuzzies and I awoke very happy.

Have you had any interesting dreams? Does your brain let you be a female, at least occasionally, in your dreams? Does your subconscious mind give “voice” to your transgender fears? I would love to hear more from others about their experiences dreaming as a crossdresser/transgender person.

Wearing Forte

Long-time German Femulate reader Saskia in March 2021 taken on the last day of a long weekend near Lake Constance... A week before the so-called “lockdown” and the last time she was "away from home" for a long time, because a few days later the requests followed to minimize your contacts, stay at home, etc. And it was connected with a small, unplanned incident: Saskia’s car wouldn’t start due to a battery failure. “So I had to face the breakdown assistant in my Saskia persona. But all went well and after a while, I was able to start my journey home.” Saskia is on the Internet at flickr.

Your Wish Is My Command

I received a great response to my call for topics that you readers would like me to write about or expand upon. Thank-you!

There are so many things to cover that I will be busy for days addressing your questions and suggestions. So without further adieu, let me begin.

Got My Back

Jan Brown wrote, "...a while ago, you alluded to a tool (razor) to shave your back without help. Could you please explain more with pictures."

The tool is the Mangroomer and instead of reinventing the wheel, I direct you to the Mangroomer webpage that does a very good job of describing the device with numerous photos and a video.

By the way, the current Mangroomer is not your father's Mangroomer. It is an improved model that has features that the older model I own lacks like a longer reach and a rechargeable battery. 

Got My Voice

Belinda wrote, "I would be interested whether you have done anything about your voice, and if so what. I know that my voice generally gives me away, but generally women are more social especially with other women. I feel inhibited though, but I don’t feel natural trying to speak girlishly. I would be interested in your experiences."

Many years ago, I bought Melanie Anne Phillips VHS video course "Melanie Speaks," which was intended to teach you how to speak like a woman. I watched the video and was duly impressed, but finding free time to practice with the video at home was a problem. So I copied the audio portion of the course to a cassette tape and practiced during my 35-minute commute to and from work every weekday.

In no time, I got the hang of the course and the voice that came out of my mouth was scary... in a good way! I sounded like a natural born woman!

The only problem was that I felt "silly" using my new voice when I was en femme. Isn't that ridiculous? Here I am, a 6-foot-2 femulator dressed to the nines, but speaking like a woman made me feel silly!

To avoid feeling silly, I convinced myself that I could get away using my natural male voice when I was en femme. Since my male voice is not decidedly masculine and I am soft-spoken, I usually got away with it. So I took the easy way out even though I knew I could do better.

All that was before I realized I was really a trans-woman and not a "plain vanilla crossdresser" as I used to refer to myself. As a trans-woman, I felt that it was time to get more serious about my voice and I now use the female voice I found using the "Melanie Speaks" course.

I am getting better all the time, but occasionally I forget myself and lapse into my old ways. So I must continually make a conscious effort to speak all the time the way Melanie taught me.

On the Road Again

This is the only photo I have of me and my Subaru. I must get more photos with the most favorite car I ever owned.

I have driven my Subaru thousands of miles cross-country cross-dressed and I will do so again next week when I drive from Connecticut to Ohio and back. My experiences as a woman driver were revealing to me.

(Funny story: After I purchased my Subaru back in 2007, a lesbian friend remarked, "How appropriate," because Subaru's are reputed to be the vehicle of choice among lesbians. I had no idea!)

👠 If I wear shorts or a short skirt or short dress when I drive, tractor trailer drivers will occasionally honk in appreciation of the view. Even though I am an old lady, I have had this experience more than once.

👠 No surprise here, but male drivers will take advantage of woman drivers. Men drive more aggressively when they cross paths with me. They assume that I will back off and give them the right of way, which I usually do, not because I am meek and mild, but because I am crossdressed. I do not want to get into an accident, then have to deal with civilians and police as an outed crossdresser, which showing my driver's license will clearly reveal.

👠 Following up on the previous point, I drive legal as a woman driver. I closely follow all the rules of the road because I don't want to deal with police as a crossdresser. My understanding is that in my neck of the woods, dealing with the police is not an issue because they have been trained to deal respectfully with our kind. Beyond my neck of the woods, who knows? In any case, who wants to deal with the police respectfully or not?

👠 Car trouble as a woman driver is a piece of cake. You won't break a nail or get a smudge of car grease on your skirt fixing the problem. Being an AAA member is one solution, but instead of waiting for AAA to show up, just look helpless and soon a gentleman will stop by and do the dirty work. It happened to me once while shopping at a strip mall. When I returned to my car with my purchases, my car would not start, so I opened the hood to see if that would help. It did! Within minutes, two gents in a pickup truck pulled up, assessed the situation and determined that my battery was dead. They carefully explained to me how to start the car by popping the clutch and I was quickly on my way.

👠 Passing is easy as a woman driver. Just use your turn signal to indicate what you are doing and when the passing lane is clear, speed up to enter the passing lane. After you passed, use your turn signal again and return to the travel lane. Seriously, passing as a woman is easier sitting inside your car. Tinted glass and reflections off the glass camouflage your appearance so you are less likely to be read sitting in your Subaru. Waiting at a traffic light one night, a guy in the lane next to me rolled down the window on the passenger side of his car and tried earnestly to engage me in conversation. I ignored him, but I assumed that I passed especially since it was dark.

👠 During long roadtrips, you are likely to need to use a restroom. I have no fear about using the ladies' room in Connecticut because I know the state laws protect me, but I feel less comfortable using the ladies' rooms in other states because their state laws may not protect me. However, I will feel even more uncomfortable if I don't use the ladies' room, so I do what I have to do and have never had a problem. For what it's worth, I have successfully relieved myself in ladies' rooms in the following states: Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Rhode Island and West Virginia.

And so I go.

Wearing Bebe

Womanless fashion show (circa 1970)

Selfies

Last week, I mentioned that I take a lot of selfies.

I started taking selfies about the same time I started dressing en femme from head to toe. I wanted to see how others would see the female me rather than how I saw myself in that full-length mirror mounted on my mother's closet door.

Self-photography provided the means to do that, but it was expensive because you had to use real film. You had to buy film to take your selfies and then pay to have your selfies processed. You also had to buy flash bulbs to take good selfies indoors.

And then there was the potential for being embarrassed and outed if the person processing the film realized that the girl posing in your selfies was actually you! I wonder how many femulators built darkrooms in their basements to avoid being outed?

I avoided the problem by using a Polaroid SX-70 camera. Polaroid film was more expensive, but I did not have to take the photos of my "girlfriend" anywhere to be processed.

However, the expense did prevent me from taking mass quantities of selfies. Then the Apple QuickTake digital camera entered my life and changed everything.

Quality-wise, the QuickTake was a step backward from the Polaroid, but the film was now "free" and I could take as many selfies as I wanted, at least until the camera's battery ran down.

And I did take a LOT of selfies! Thousands to be inexact.

As digital cameras improved, I graduated from the QuickTake to the Canon PowerShot. And as the Canons improved, I upgraded my PowerShots and currently own my third, a Canon PowerShot SD940 IS. It is full-featured, takes excellent photos, and I thought it was the cat's meow until I started taking photos with my iPhone 5.

Comparing photos taken during the same photoshoot with the Canon and the iPhone, the iPhone does a better job (IMHO). Or should I say, I do a better job taking photos with the iPhone than I do with the Canon. Perhaps if I was a better or more knowledgable photographer, I could do a better job with the Canon, but for now, the iPhone is my go-to camera.

The iPhone does have a couple of drawbacks as a camera.

Whereas the Canon allows me to take timed selfies, iPhone's Camera app does not have that feature. I corrected that problem quickly by obtaining camera apps (Top Camera and Camera+) that do include the self-timer function. Now I can take self-timed selfies.

The other drawback is the inability to use a tripod with the iPhone. Sure, you can take self-timed selfies without a tripod --- I've done it and it is a pain in the dupa. So I fixed that problem too by purchasing a tripod designed for cell phone camera applications: the Case Star Octopus Style Portable and Adjustable Tripod.

So you can count on seeing more and better quality selfies here in the future.

 

European vacation femulating.

 

Wearing DressBarn.

Not a Day over 62

Last week, I changed my Facebook profile photo to the one you see on the right.

In response to that change, I received 30 likes and a handful of positive comments. I also received a message from one of my Facebook friends, Lisa, who commented that my "skin looks so good" that she wanted to know if I lasered my face.

After exchanging a few messages with Lisa, I realized that my blog readers might want to know how this 63-year-old lady manages to look only 62 years old! So I will spill the beans here and in tomorrow’s installment of Femulate.

I never had laser hair removal or any other permanent hair removal. Nor am I on or ever have been on hormones.

I get a very close shave using Edge shaving gel and the manual version of the Gillette Fusion razor with a new or nearly new blade (never a blade that has been used more than three times).

After I shave a portion of my face and neck in one vertical direction (three or four swipes up or down), I quickly shave in the opposite direction without reapplying the shaving gel.

After I am done, but while my face is still wet, I feel my face for any rough spots that I missed and go over those spots again without reapplying the shaving gel.

I have two trouble spots that require extra attention. They are under my chin on each side of the center of my chin. Typically, I have to shave these spots in four directions to eliminate the beard... again without reapplying the shaving gel.

I keep a bottle of witch hazel handy in case I nick myself. A light dab of that astringent to the bleeding area usually takes care of the problem quickly and I can continue getting pretty.

The Gillette Fusion razor does a very good job and its results last most of the day. But by late afternoon, I see hairs reappearing usually on my chin.

Here is a trick I learned from Hollywood makeup artist Jim Bridges when he gave me my first makeover at First Event back in 1995. After attending First Event all day long, I would return to my room in the late afternoon, remove all my makeup, shave with a manual razor, then reapply my makeup for the evening festivities. Besides wasting time removing and reapplying makeup, using a manual razor twice a day over a few days resulted in razor burns on my face!

Jim recommended leaving my makeup on and attending to the new beard growth with an electric razor. And then touch up any makeup that the electric razor might have disturbed.

This method saved time and avoided the razor burns. I have used it ever since for full days en femme. By the way, my electric razor is a three-head rotary style razor from Philips Norelco. It has a rechargeable battery that lasts a long time, so if I am on the road for the day en femme, I can even use the razor in my car to fix my face.

In the tomorrow’s post, I will discuss putting stuff on my face rather than taking stuff off my face.

Any questions?

 

 

 

Wearing Spiegel.

 

 

 

Heidi Phox.