Someday Funnies: Prom Dress Distress

Wearing Venus

A psychology study published in 1987 concluded that married couples who had lived together for 25 years began to physically resemble one another as a result of their prolonged cohabitation.

Fun en femme

I love going out among the civilians. I especially enjoy going out among the civilians who know boy me, but not girl me. Their reaction when they realize who is the boy behind the girl is priceless.

After I retired, I had no where to go en femme on Halloween, so I decided to make the rounds of some of my regular haunts and see what transpires.

Hair Salon

I was on the road at 11 AM and made my first stop only 2 miles away at the hair salon where I have been getting my hair cut for over 25 years.

Two years earlier, I was getting my hair cut after Halloween and my hairdresser, Miss D, asked if I did anything for the holiday. So I pulled out my iPhone and showed her my en femme photo. She was floored and could not get over it, so I decided to let her see my femulation in person.

I entered the salon and Miss D greeted me without a glimmer of recognition. I played along and said I wanted to make an appointment with my regular hairdresser, Miss K. Miss D opened the appointment book and found an opening that I could fill, then she asked my name (to enter into the book).

When I told her my boy name, her jaw dropped and the “Oh, my God's” began flowing without interruption. Just then, another hairdresser, Miss C, showed up for work and she was flabbergasted, too.

Miss D had to return to her station to attend to a customer, but Miss C hung back and agreed to take some photos with my iPhone.

Bank

Next stop was my bank, where I usually do my business via the drive-through window. Since I was cashing a check and making a withdrawal, I would have to show my I.D. (my driver’s license) and there might be some confusion considering how I appeared, so I went indoors rather than driving through.

As I entered, I saw three women staffing the bank — I have done business with all three of them for a number of years, usually at the drive-through window and occasionally up front and personal.

I greeted the woman who was seated typing away at a computer in the cubicle just inside the bank entrance. She looked up from the computer and was clueless.

I smiled and said, “Happy Halloween! You may know me better as [insert my male name].”

I believe she heard me, but I think she could not believe her eyes and asked, “Who?”

I had to repeat my name a couple of times before it sank in and she said, “Wow — you look fabulous!”

“Thank-you,” and I proceeded to get into the line waiting for my turn at the teller, who greeted me with a big smile as I queued up. The third woman was staffing the drive-through window and did not seem to recognize me.

When it was my turn, I walked up to the teller, who greeted me so profusely that I knew she knew who I was.

“You look lovely today,” she said.

“You know who I am, don’t you.”

“I recognized you as soon as you walked in.”

There were no other customers in the bank, so my teller called over the other teller and asked her if she recognized me.

The other teller did not have a clue.

My teller tried to clue her in with this hint, “Who has a green car and always uses the drive-through window?”

The other teller was still clueless.

Another clue, “Who has a little friend (my dog) in the passenger seat?”

Still nothing!

My teller finally showed her my driver’s license and the other teller shouted out my male name followed by a series of question marks and exclamation points. She was amazed and gushed over my “disguise.”

I asked my teller if she would take my photo and she said she would love to do it, so I handed her my iPhone and she took a half dozen shots including the one above.

I said my goodbyes and as I passed the cubicle where the first woman was working, she stopped me and went on and on about how convincing I looked.

I mentioned how my wife always said that I would never pass because of my large size.

“Oh, no,” she retorted, “No one would ever guess that you’re not a woman.”

Wearing StyleWe

Piotr Gawron-Jedlikowski femulating C.C. Catch on Polish television’s Twoja Twarz Brzmi Znajomo (Your Face Sounds Familiar). You can view this femulation on YouTube.

Someday Funnies: Men at Work

Wearing Bebe

Circa 1960, dancer and choreographer Sal Angelica poses with professional femulator Howard.

Naturally Brained Woman

Natured or Nurtured?

I have written about the “nature or nurture question” here before, that is, whether we are born transgender (the nature argument) or our upbringing and environment causes us to be transgender (the nurture argument).

I am not a doctor, although I play a nurse on occasion, so I have no professional credentials to support my opinion. But I subscribe to the nature argument because that’s how I see my life playing out so far.

From the get-go, I was a feminine being. The fact that I had a male body did not dissuade me from being feminine, often to my detriment. Male peers derided and bullied me, while I socialized better with females ― not because they considered me dating material, but because I was just like one of the girls.

With regards to the transgender Wachowski sisters, an interesting article “There May Be a Biological Reason the Wachowski Siblings Are Both Transgendered,” supports the nature argument. One point that the article mentions is that the brains of transwomen resemble the brains of cisgender women, while the brains of transmen resemble the brains of cisgender men.

My mother was my role model, so that seems to support the nurture argument, However, was my mother my role model because my father was an absentee parent or because it was normal for a feminine soul to follow in the footsteps of her female parent? (A side note: My sister was viewing some photos she took a few days ago and remarked how very much I resembled my mother in the photos. I was in boy mode in the photos.)

We’ll probably never know for sure what made us trans. Perhaps it is a combination of nature and nurture.

Wearing Venus

Kay, Yvonne, and Julie attending the 1986 Chicago Be-All.

Someday Funnies

Wearing Joie

A flock of femulators from the 1930’s

Monday, Monday

Getting Better All the Time Dept.

After nine sessions of physical therapy, I am starting to think that getting back to normal is a possibility. There are a few things that still need work, but I felt so good by Friday that I resumed my daily walks in the woods. I only walked 0.57 miles and it took me twice as long as normal, but it’s a start and I hope to be back in my stilettos real soon now. 

I also lost 10 pounds during the past month. Basically, I stopped eating in between meals because getting up out of a chair is still difficult – so difficult that I rather remain seated rather than get up to get a snack! I did not intend to lose 10 pounds and I now weigh less than I ever have as an adult.

Not a Civilian Dept.

I don’t have to tell you that if you are a repeat femulator, the civilians will catch on and assume you are trans-something. For example, five consecutive Halloweens at work en femme and most of my co-workers knew that something was up and no one was surprised when I finally came out.

So I suspect that when a young man participates in his school’s womanless beauty pageant on three occasions that he might not be a civilian. Such is the case of a three-time pageant contestant who you can find on Pinterest (photos above).

Browsing Pinterest last week, I discovered yet another appearance of the same young man! This latest discovery (below) fills the timeline between the second and third photos above. 

So that’s four womanless beauty pageants he participated in that we know of.

And so it goes!

Wearing Elisabetta Franchi

A 1960’s femulator enjoying a makeover at a beauty salon.

Someday Funnies

Wearing StyleWe

Femulating ballerinas, circa 1950

Say “Cheese”

How many crossdressers does it take to change a light bulb?

Three – One to climb the ladder to change the bulb, one to hold the ladder and one to photograph the event.

Whenever I am out en femme, I bug people – friends, acquaintances and strangers alike to take my photo. My excuse is “to feed the blog.”

You readers want to see photos of girls like us out doing things in public, so my reason for getting photographed is legitimate. But that is only part of it; there are other reasons.

I like to see how I look in the photograph. Does the outfit I put together look good together or did I err grievously in my fashion judgment?

Do I pass as a woman? At least, if I pass in the photograph that increases my chances of passing in public.

And when I am not en femme, I like to have a photo on hand of myself en femme to remind me of the good days. That is why I had a photo on my desk at work of myself en femme.

(It is funny how nobody ever commented about the photo on my desk at work. Frequently, visitors to my cubicle would look over my shoulder at that photo, which sat on the desk behind me, but no one ever said a word. I wish I could have read their minds.)

Wearing Rue La La

Glenn Tryon (left) femulating in the 1925 film Madame Sans Jane.

Someday Funnies

Wearing Boston Proper

Sydney Chaplin femulating in the 1926 film Oh! What a Nurse!

One Regret

One regret I have is that I did not come out of the closet sooner.

For about 60 years, I have explored the other side of the gender divide, but I have only been out of the closet for about 15 years.

During the first 40 years, my female presentation was limited to home, support group meetings and transgender conventions, which were all closets in one way or another. In my mind, I stepped out of the closet when I began doing outreach and flying solo in public as a woman. 

Once I was out of the closet, I realized that I should have gotten out sooner... much sooner. It was so wonderful to live as a woman and it was so much easier than I ever imagined. 

That's what kept me in the closet ― I thought it would be too hard, if not impossible to navigate society as a woman because I was too tall and that would give me away. But I was so wrong. Either I passed successfully as a woman or our society has become so nonchalant about dudes who dress like ladies, that no one minded me being their presence. Ether way, it was a win-win situation.

“Youth is wasted on the young” was so apropos in my case. I should have exited the closet and experienced the world as a woman much sooner. 

So I urge anyone who is on the fence to get off the fence. Sitting on the fence is not very comfortable, whereas living as a woman is the most comfortable place in the world to be.

Wearing Elbis NY

Femulators celebrating Carnival in Rio de Janeiro in 1913.