I live for Woman’s Days – those days when I can experience the world in my preferred gender. The rest of the time, those non-Woman’s Days, I reflect on my most recent Woman’s Days and anticipate my next Woman’s Days.
Which is kind of sad... wasting those days in between living as a MINO (man in name only) when I’d rather be living full-time as a woman.
C'est la vie.
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| Wearing Chicwish |
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| Femulator Vic (or Vi), circa 1944 |
Last February, I had the opportunity to spend two weeks in Florida – a very unusual opportunity, since I normally have short periods of five or six hours when I can dress as Marie.I made reservations in a Hilton Hotel in Sarasota and after a bit of preparation, a mani-pedi, etc., I began my adventure. My goal was to dress 24/7 for the whole vacation.As we all experience, the more opportunity we have to present as a woman, the more we get into the role. After a couple of days, I was very comfortable and generally followed a daily routine. First, I got up early and went to morning Mass and Communion at a nearby Catholic church.
Returning to the hotel, I would have breakfast and the go back to my room and freshen up. Next, I would stop in a nearby library and spend an hour scanning the Wall Street Journal. Then back to the hotel to change into my black bathing suit and drive to Lido Beach. I’d park, grab my beach chair and bag with lunch and find a place near the water. After a couple of hours, I’d head to a near by curbside restaurant for a cocktail, then back to my. hotel.
After a shower and dressing to the nines, I’d drive to the downtown Sarasota Regis Carlton Hotel for a couple of glasses of wine and a salad. This was the best part of the day. I’d drive up to valet parking, the boys knew me and after passing them my keys and a few very respectful “Yes, Ma'am’s,” I’d walk through the crowded lobby to the cocktail bar.I was almost a regular and one of the young bartenders would bring me a glass of my favorite wine and the night would begin. Always some well-dressed folks to talk with, either a couple or a single guy or gal – everyone cordial and friendly. Making sure I didn’t drink too much, I’d say my goodbyes and then out to the valet station to get my car and drive back to my hotel.
Joey
When I crossdress, I wear dresses, etc. and present male. I am tall and manly-shaped and I have short hair. Passing is never a thing for me. I go out in public occasionally and I am accepted. People realize that I am a man dressed in women’s clothes and they treat me with respect.
One time, however, a man at a doughnut shop thought I was dressed in men’s clothes. I was wearing a long black skirt, black pantyhose ad black strappy flat shoes. On my upper half, I was wearing a purple top covered by a black outer layer of the same material as the skirt.I walked into the doughnut shop and got in line behind a woman. A man came out of the restroom and joined her in line. Then he turned around to face me and asked, “Is that a uniform?”
That was a first! I replied, “No, it is not a uniform.”
He asked me to excuse him and he turned around. I looked at his female companion’s reaction. She did not say or do anything, but she had a look on her face. It was the look that my wife makes when she is thinking, “You are a moron.”
Then he turned around again. He had to clear up his confusion. He said, “I was wondering if you were a priest.”
I was quite entertained at that! I said, “No. I am not a priest. A priest would have a white collar, I suppose.”
I smiled. He turned back around. His female companion was clearly wanting to tell him to shut-up and not to turn around again. If he had tried, she might have physically stopped him. I was so entertained! I assumed that when they got into the car that she had a talk with him that started with, “What on Earth is wrong with you?!?”
So that’s the time I passed as a priest while crossdressed in public.
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| Wearing Chicwish |
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| Femulator, circa |
The always lovely Carollyn passes along her passing success story.
Carollyn
I have never really worried about passing, but I realize is is part of dressing for all of us. We always want to look our best and not be “a man in a dress.”
I try to visit with my cosmologist about once a month. What happened on one of my visits with Melissa at the local mall could have been a disaster, but turned out better than either she or I could have expected.
Thursdays were always a good day for a trip to see Melissa, who was my makeup girl for about 10 years. The first session with Melissa, who I immediately told I was a crossdresser, was wonderful and we became good friends. She taught me so much about makeup application and style. One day, though, was the topper to my “passing.”
I arrived at the store at my typical 10 AM. My plan to was to see Melissa for a quick touch-up, then do a little shopping before we enjoying lunch together. While I was sitting in Melissa's work station, she whispered in my ear, “My mother-in-law is coming down the aisle. What should we do?”
I responded, “Just let me sit here like any other customer.”Melissa's mother-in-law, Mary, walked up, gave her a hug and sat down in the chair to the right of me. Melissa’s face turned a bit red. At first, Melissa chatted with her mother-in-law, but sooner than later, Mary started directing her conversation in my direction.
Before I could answer, Melissa formally introduced me to her mother-in-law. Mary was so kind and complimented me on my outfit and hair and asked how long I have known Melissa. The three of us talked for about 15 minutes just like other women would in a cosmetology department.
Suddenly Melissa couldn’t contain herself and started laughing. She blurted out, “Mom, Carollyn is a crossdresser... you know, a man who likes to wear women's clothing.”
Mary almost fell out of her chair, but quickly regained her composure and said, “I can't believe it! You’re so beautiful.”
I said, “Can’t a man look beautiful?”
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| Wearing Lafayette 148 |
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| Andy Collins femulating on stage in She Rantulas from Outer Space in 3D. |
I will never get tired of passing, but I think we need a break from posting your passing success stories, so my Woden's day post will be something a little different. (Your passing success stories will appear again tomorrow.)
Autogynephilia is Not the Fear of Cars Dept.
My long-time transfriend Diana of Diana’s Little Corner in the Nutmeg State fame, posted a post about how Kourtney Kardashian debunked the transphobic autogynephilia theory.
To tell you the truth, whenever I read articles about autogynephilia in the past, I usually abandoned them because they bored me or they gave me a headache from trying to decipher the theory. However, Diana's post about Kardashian's debunking of the theory was an easy read and explained it all in a nutshell. I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on television (I'd rather play a nurse), but the post made sense to me and I recommend reading it if you want to get a handle on autogynephilia.
My long-time blogging buddy Peter Lappin of Male Pattern Boldness fame, wrote an article for Threads Magazine describing in detail how to repurpose a man’s suit as a woman’s suit.
Peter knows his way around a sewing machine, so transitioning a man’s suit into a woman’s suit is not for the faint of heart, but it does offer an option for your now expendable male wardrobe. Instead of taking it to Goodwill or selling it on eBay, you might consider feminizing it.
How I Got Into Woman’s Panties Dept.
I recently switched from men’s briefs to women’s panties and I am never switching back.
My spouse is not computer savvy, so if she needs something online, she asks me to order it for her. Recently, she asked me to order her panties from Amazon.
The panties arrived, she did not like them and asked me to return them. I liked the way they looked, tried them on and they fit, so instead of returning them, I replaced my well-worn men’s briefs with the new panties and have been wearing them ever since.
Now I just have to pick out a bra to order for her that she won't like!
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| Wearing Rue La La |
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| Rajkummar Rao femulating in the 2020 Indian film Ludo. |
Thank you all who responded to my request for your very best passing success stories – three more stories follow.
Emily
If you are at it a long time, there will be a lot of times being read as well as some success stories. Three of the latter:
– Being in Macy's dress department and having a another shopper asking my opinion on a dress for her.
– Two friends needed a fill-in for cards. I played for four hours and the other lady had no clue and later told the other ladies how lovely I was.
– A lady bartender I knew suggested that a lady sitting alone join me. We talked for a long time about a lot of personal stuff and after I told her I was widowed, she asked how old my husband had been.
Beside that, there were dozens of times when I was asked to dance by a fellow. My “bad knee” excuse is starting to wear thin.
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| Jim |
I make no effort to pass. No foundation garments, bra, wig or makeup other than nail polish. My age matches yours, but I have just started going out in public about one year ago. My hair stylist encouraged to be who I want to be. Out and about in leggings and tunic or flats daily, but limited in skirts.
Recently coming out and trying on clothes before buying them. My last outing, the saleswoman said things always look good on me because I have a model's body. I almost dropped to the floor.
I love your support.
Linda
I am not confident of my voice and generally steer clear of men. However, on three occasions when looking for wedding dress shops, I have asked for directions. Twice going into shops where two sales assistants, one male, one female were talking.
On each occasion, having asked my question, it was the male who showed me to the door and outside to then carefully point out the route.
The third occasion was actually a funeral parlor and this time, only a man came out from the back to help, but as before, he took me outside and pointed out the way I needed to go.
Does anyone think those men would have been so gracious if “he” had been asking for directions, let alone for wedding dress shops? Each occasion was just so fulfilling.
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| Wearing Boston Proper |
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| Alan Manson and Others femulating in the 1943 film This is the Army. |
Your passing success stories keep on arriving in my e-mail, so I will keep sharing them with you. Here's three more.
Sally
I had been a member of a trans group for a couple of years, attending the weekend get-together each month. Usually, I would transform into my feminine persona for the entire weekend before joining in any of the group activities, so without realizing it, I had never let any of the group members meet my male persona. Then one Friday, I checked into the hotel for the weekend, but before going to my suite to transform, I went directly to the group’s hospitality suite.
When I walked into the suite, our group president, someone I had socialized with regularly over the years, came up to me and introduced herself, stating she wanted to immediately welcome the new person. I was shocked when she, along with others, failed to recognize me. Of course, she was as surprised as I.
This probably isn’t a passing story so much as an example of how differently we can appear when presenting in our preferred gender.
Elizabeth
I had long ago decided that the possibility of my passing at 6' 5" in flats was remote at best. I have often remarked that I pass every time... from a 100 yards away.
A few years ago, I made a trip to Dallas to meet in person a couple of ladies I made friends with through some transgender chat groups. Patty, is a particularly amazing woman who has transitioned in her small Texas town, had amazing acceptance and kept her helicopter business going. I spent a Sunday afternoon with her and another T-girl who works for her.
After a helicopter ride, we went into town and had a fun time of conversation and food at a local pizza joint. After our meal, we walked across the street to where a friend of hers was putting the final touches on an art gallery that he was opening. We toured the gallery, and chatted with the owner, a good ole Texas boy.
Later in the week, I received an e-mail from Patty that she had been talking to her friend about being transgender. The man stated that Patty was the only trans person he had ever met and wouldn't think of her that way if he hadn't know her before transition. Patty informed him that he had met others, just during the past week – that the woman with her who was visiting from out of town was also trans. He was amazed and said he never would have known.
Needless to say when a redneck cowboy from Texas thinks you are a genetic female, it makes you feel pretty good. Had me floating on air for weeks.
Jasmine Bond
I've been expressing my feminine self more lately than ever before and have been doing all of my trips during these COVID times fully en femme. I dress nearly daily, so I femulate at the grocery store, when I get books at the library, get gasoline or run any other errand.
It has totally been wonderful to live one day at a time as the woman I know I am. This miserable year has really expressed more so than ever before that time is precious and not one day should be wasted being unhappy.
Having said that, during my last trip to the grocery store a manager got pulled over to a register and as he walked by me waiting as the next person in line, he called me “honey” and proceeded to say honey three more times and even threw in a “sweetie ”as I checked out in his lane.
I don't know if he was “family” or just being overly flirtatious, but whether he made me or not, it was truly affirming to be treated as the woman I am. I was on a natural high the rest of the day!
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| Wearing New York & Company |
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| Mark McKinney femulating in the 1996 film Brain Candy. |
I am an old fashioned girl and send cards to my friends and relatives for their birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, illnesses and other events.
Greeting cards are expensive, so a few years ago, I purchased software to create and print greeting cards. The software paid for itself a long time ago.
My sister's birthday was last week, so I loaded the software and perused what designs were available for sister birthdays. I found the perfect card, but I did not use it because my sister is not a big fan of my femulating.
Anyway, here is the front and inside (punchline) of the card.
A similar card would have been apropos for my mother on her birthday or on Mother's Day!
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| Greetings from Vicki at Casa Susanna |
On a Monday morning back in August, I decided to go to the Department of Public Safety to obtain a photo identification card for Jeanette. I thought that going to the office in Katy, rather than Houston, might result in a shorter line and quicker service. I was very mistaken.
I dressed appropriately for the endeavor. I wore black dress pants, black flats, a black and white stripped boat neck blouse with complimentary jewelry and makeup. The blouse had a wide neckline and I chose a bra with clear straps that showed slightly, but was great with this blouse.
When I entered the building, I saw about 200 people sitting in folding metal chairs waiting in line. The chairs were arranged in two long rows inside what I assume, was an old gymnasium. The program seemed to be as the person in the very front of the line was served, everyone stood up and then moved one seat closer to a walled-off office where the clerks were housed. My ability to pass was about to be tested to the max.
I had women of all ages for the next three seats on either side of me. It turns out that the women were all very friendly and talkative. I had been taking voice lessons from a local speech therapist (Sally McKee) and felt my voice would not give me away. The six of us became somewhat of a group. The women in the last two chairs to my right and left would slide their chairs a little forward to form a moving quarter moon.
I was neither the center of attention nor was I completely ignored. I was just one of the group. We talked about how long and slow the line was. We debated whether or not our particular need with the D.P.S. could be accomplished on line. Where Gloria got her blouse, where Ellen got her hair styled, where I got my shoes, the best steak place in town, the cost of gasoline, soccer, little league, ballet...
Four of the six of us decided we would go get a margarita if we ever got finished. As it turned out, the 3.5 hours to get finished killed those ideas because of my buddies’ obligations with children, husbands and boyfriend.
Nearing the end of three hours, I passed through a passage way to a hall where the ceiling lowered from the gym height to that of a normal office. I could see inside the inner sanctum and knew that soon I would enter where the clerks would take care of my request. There was a ladies’ room in the hall, but no one dared enter it for fear they would lose their place in line.
I began to think my legs would wear out from all of the rising and sitting. I was wrong. My legs did fine, but the strain on the clear, flexible bra straps was just too much. As I rose to move one seat closer to the Holy of Holies, my right bra strap released from the back hook. Like a sling shot, it shot forward and almost out of the front of my blouse. The girls were all looking at pictures of Peggy’s new grandchild and didn’t notice.
My right silicone breast form teetered at the top of the cup trying to decide if I would look better with my boobs horizontal or vertical. It decided vertical. I am sure a couple of my new friends were old enough to have experienced sagging breasts, but I don’t think theirs sagged as quickly or as unevenly as mine. I tried to be very nonchalant as I placed my right forearm under the runaway to try to corral it before anyone noticed.
Gradually I worked it back into the vicinity of symmetry held in the general area of the bra cup. I could have gotten up, gone to ladies’ room, removed my blouse and bra, reconnected the strap, redressed and returned to line. However, I was afraid the pace of the line would suddenly surge forth, my compatriots would be finished and gone and I would have to fight with strangers to get my place back. I decided, if necessary, I would pick my boob off the floor, stick in my purse and continue forward rather than face going to the end of the line. As it turned out, I could have gone home, changed bras and blouses and would still be sitting in about the same place when I got back,
I realized that short of a ladies’ room trip, I required some other means of securing right boob. I chose to pull the loose strap over to the secured strap and then proceeded to tie it to the good one just beneath the blouse opening. I figured this configuration might hold up through 10 to 15 more rises and reseats. There were still 12 people in front of me.
I kept my arms crossed beneath my breasts. Most would assume this posture indicated frustration with the wait in line. I hoped none of the girls would suspect that I was trying to save them from possible harm from the rebound that might occur when a three pound breast form bounces off of a vinyl composition tile floor. Yep, that’s me, always looking out for others!
I saw what was causing the line to be so slow when I finally entered the office. Two of the three clerks were on break. One young man was processing customers while one lady in her early thirties was sitting against a back wall, eating chips and reading Cosmopolitan. The third clerk was an older lady who had pulled her desk chair back a few feet and was reading the Bible while making notes in the margin. After 10 minutes, the two other clerks assumed their duties.
As my luck was running so good, when my time came, it was inevitable that I took a seat before the Bible reader. She asked how she could help me and I stated that I would like a State of Texas Photo Identification Card. I presented her with my driver’s license to prove I was the person I claimed to be.
She accepted my driver’s license and asked me why I wanted a photo identification card since I already had a driver’s license which had my picture. Before I could answer, she looked down at my license. She glanced up above her reading glasses after about five seconds and looked at me. Then she looked at my license. Then me. My license. Me. I kept waiting for her to hit me with her Bible or at least start quoting scripture from Deuteronomy. Neither happened.
She informed me that I had filled out the wrong form, gave me the correct form, directed me to a counter attached to a nearby wall and told me to come back and stand behind the person she would be helping next. She informed me she would take care of me as soon as she finished her next customer.
With only my left arm supporting by breasts, I filled out the form. I returned to her desk and within another three minutes, my payment was made, my picture taken and a temporary identification card presented with a promise that my final card would arrive in about 15 day. I found a side door to leave so I wouldn’t have to parade back through the gym.
I received my card two weeks later an, thankfully, the head and shoulders photo does not show that my boobs were about a bubble and a half off plumb when the camera flashed.
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| Wearing H&M |
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| Max von Sydow and Alberto Lionello femulating in the 1977 Italian film Gran Bollito. |
My inbox is overflowing with your passing success stories. I thank you for sharing your stories and I promise to post them all. And if you have not yet sent me your best passing success story, I encourage you to do so.
Meg Winters
I had a few visits with a therapist. On visit one, I explained Meg.
On visit three, I left work early and Meg went to the appointment. As the therapist came out with her current patient, I said hi and she said, “I'm sorry. I'm booked today. You'll have to make an appointment for a different day.”
I identified myself and we had an... interesting session.
Lee B.
A couple of times a year I have to travel (via auto) from my home in Melbourne, Florida, to Atlanta, which is about an 8-hour drive. Not too long ago, Lee had the opportunity to make the trip! Although the reason for driving to Atlanta was an appointment for the “he” side, I thought it would be a great time to be Lee for the trip up to Atlanta and the ride back home to Florida.
I started planning this adventure... it certainly is a lot more work laying out the different outfits, coordinating shoes, jewelry, makeup and throwing in the few guy things for the appointment. During this process of getting everything together, the thought crossed my mind... check-in at the hotel in Atlanta! Not only do they want the credit card you use for the stay, they also want your driver’s license.
There is simply not any way my driver’s license picture would pass even the most superficial examination, that is, the picture did not look anything like the person that was checking in. Not to mention the names don’t exactly match. Although Lee is my middle name on the license, I just don’t think that would overcome the obvious difference in the picture. I decided that a possible moment of awkwardness was not going to be enough of a deterrent to spending some quality time. On with the packing.
Up bright and early, probably earlier than I would have under normal circumstances, after all there are many more things to think about. Everything seemed to come together fairly smoothly and I was on I-95 by 8AM headed to the Big Peach (Atlanta).
The next eight hours went by very uneventfully with the rest stops and one fill at a gas station. I really don’t know if the uneventful trip gave me some extra time to wonder about the check-in at the hotel or not, but I did roll it around in my mind a couple more times. Maybe it just reinforced my desire to do what I planned.
Atlanta’s legendary afternoon traffic did not seem to be overly challenging on this day; I drove up to the front of the hotel and picked up everything I would need for registering. There was only one clerk at the desk and she was waiting on a customer as I walked up. She finished with the customer and I went to the desk and presented my confirmation paper.
After looking at it, she then spoke the words I had been concerned about the whole time, “May I please have the credit card used and your driver's license.”
Although I was completely expecting those words, I no doubt took a little extra deep breath in anticipation. I placed the license and credit card on the desk, she thanked me and proceeded to enter whatever information she needed. Then she looked up at me and said, “I'm sorry, I will need your license, too.”
I then smiled and said, “That is my license.”
She just stood still for a moment and then I also said, “I’m sorry. I guess the picture makes it a little confusing.”
She then gave me a big smile while giving me the keys and wishing me a pleasant stay! I was very pleased with her handling of the check-in and I at least, I felt I passed.
One last little wrinkle in my little adventure. I got settled into the room and lightly unpacked. I separated “his” clothes and set them out for the next morning. As I was getting everything ready, it suddenly dawned on me I had not packed any guy shoes and I just did not think the heels I brought would go unnoticed at the appointment the next morning! So shopping was on the agenda!
Somehow it just was not as much fun going shopping for guy shoes while dressed as Lee. However, I enjoyed it anyway!
Elise
I do not femulate out there among the people but I am fortunate enough to spend plenty of time en femme at home. A few Octobers ago, I saw a pair of heels on the Payless website that I just had to have and wearing a pair of nude hose under my jeans, I drove to my local Payless to buy them “for my Halloween costume.”
The store was empty so I decided to try them on as quickly as humanly possible to make sure I had the right size. I did not hear the saleswoman behind me until she said, “Those are very popular.”
And then, noticing my feet in nylon, said, “It appears you came prepared.”
She suggested I take a few steps in them to make sure I had the correct size. Walking from one end of the store to the other in black stilettos under the warm smile of a compassionate woman is a heart-warming experience – I'll never forget!
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| Wearing Unique Vintage |
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| Femulators on Filipino television's I Heart You Pare |
More passing success stories from the femulating front line...
Claire
Five or six years ago, my wife and I were asked to a Super Bowl party at a friend’s house. As we were mixing and mingling, our hostess introduced me to a couple who were snowbirding (as we say in Florida) from Michigan.
“Sue and Claire, this is XX and XY (I’ve forgotten their names) who are renting the house next door.”
So as we were chatting, the lady noticed our wedding rings.
“So how long have you been married?”
I replied “Forty five years.”
Her response, “Oh, I didn’t think same-sex weddings were legal back then.”
An enlightening discussion followed.
Jenny Shaw
While I was staying a few days with my TV friend Jim and his wife, a lady friend of theirs had been invited to join us for the evening meal. She was well aware of Jim being a TV and had been told beforehand that there would be another person, i.e., me, at the meal and that I was also transgender.
When she arrived I was introduced to her as Jenny – I was fully en femme, but very casually dressed – and we sat and chatted for half an hour or so before the meal. I’m 5’ 11” and have a typical male bone structure and made no attempt to change my voice while we were chatting, so I assumed it was obvious to her that I was the other trans person she’d been told about.
Just before the meal, I made some comment about wearing female clothing and she became quite confused. She then said that she hadn’t realized I was the trans person she’d been told would be present and had been about to ask me where my husband was! Wow – I didn’t see that coming.
Even after all was explained she had trouble accepting that I wasn’t a biological woman. Since then, she and I have been out and about together shopping and dining and she still can only see me as being female.
Linda
I had just finished my transformation in my car parked in a lay-by/turnout. Waiting for a lull in the traffic in order to get back in my car after having just put ‘his’ clothes in the boot/trunk, when a passing lorry tooted at me. This reminded me of the time I had just emerged alone into the open air from the underground/subway in London and got wolf-whistled. GGs would be offended by such sexist experiences, but for me, it was pure heaven. LOL
Lisa
I was on a weekend getaway from London to Colchester and was walking back to my B&B along a side street at dusk. Ahead of me approached four young men in their late teens/early twenties. The sidewalk was narrow, my B&B was still a block away and there was traffic in the street, so I had no choice but to continue straight ahead and hope for the best.
As they got closer, I could tell they were inebriated, which is never a good sign with a group of young men. As I walked by them, one of the guys spoke to me and said, “Do you think you could handle all of us?”
It was a disgusting comment and was obviously an inappropriate thing to say to a mature women (or any woman for that matter). I paused in my steps because I wanted to say something motherly in response. But before I could reply, one of his companions quickly interjected, “Leave her alone!”
And they did. It may not have been my “best” passing experience, but it certainly was my most important one in terms of personal safety.
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| Wearing Rue La La |
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| Just another girl from the Internet |
