Two Weird Ones

I often search eBay looking for images that depict femulation.

Occasionally, some of the images I find are so weird that I cannot figure out what was the intention of the image or what was the image actually depicting.

I came across two such images during my eBay search this week.

Here is the first one.

It is a postcard from the 1930s or 1940s. Both persons are wearing male clothing except for their shoes, which are women's high heel pumps. The person on the right is wearing what looks like a Zoot suit. Both persons have male haircuts and both look like they are wearing makeup. "Myrtle" is folding a handkerchief, which I assume is object referred to in the text "I Know What It's For."

My guess is that the postcard depicts two female-to-male crossdressers getting ready to go out and one is telling the other that she knows what a handkerchief is for.

Does anyone have a better idea what this is all about?

The second image that baffled me this week is a photograph from the UK circa 1920.

It depicts a group of men in white dresses, hosiery, and shoes. They have men's haircuts that have been feminized by combing the hair over their ears.

The seller on eBay states that the outfits may be "women's tennis clothes," but I see no evidence of tennis equipment.

I have no clue about what this image depicts --- do you?

Teen Pageant

Cheryl e-mailed me links to photos and videos from the 2012 Groovy Teen Pageant, which occurred at Glenvar High School in Salem, VA, on March 2.

Some of the femulations were so good that there may be a few future Miss Universe contestants in that group.

This link includes photos and videos of the pageant. 

This link has photos only. 

An aside...

When I was in school, I was unaware of womanless pageants. And even if I had the opportunity to participate in one, I think I would have been too self-conscious to do so and out myself in the process.

Which reminds me of Spanish class...

In my high school, they held an annual "Spanish Night," costume party for all the students who took Spanish. The theme of the costumes was something Spanish.

One day in class a few days before the party, my Spanish teacher asked me if I was planning on wearing a seniorita costume. I guess she picked up on my femininity and decided to tease me about it.

I had no plans to wear a seniorita costume. Instead, I dressed as a Cuban revolutionary in military fatigues, Ridgeway cap, fake beard, and cigar. My costume was a big hit.

Another boy did show up in bad seniorita drag. He was a shy, quiet kid and I sensed that he regretted his costume choice. I wonder whatever became of him/her.

Eye Contact

When I started going out en femme, I avoided eye contact by wearing dark sunglasses... indoors!

I recall wearing dark sunglasses while shopping in a strip mall with another more experienced T-girlfriend. When we left the store, my girlfriend told me to ditch the sunglasses because everyone in the store was looking at me. Next store sans sunglasses, my girlfriend reported that I blended in better and she did not notice anyone looking at me.

So I stopped wearing sunglasses indoors, but I made a great effort to avoid eye contact.

The problem is that it is difficult to avoid making eye contact. Even if you make a concerted effort to avoid eye contact, you will find yourself inadvertently catching someone's eye. When this occurs, you may avert your eyes, but that is a mistake because the other person is going to notice your eye aversion and may wonder what's going on. They may take a closer look at you and try to figure out why you averted your eyes and while they are taking a closer look, they may discover clues that give away the fact that you are femulating.

That happened to me a number of times. I inadvertently made eye contact, quickly averted my eyes and then noticed the other person checking me out from head to toe.

I learned my lesson. Instead of avoiding eye contact, I now make eye contact. And I do it with a smile. Most times, the other person will return the smile and even say, "Hello."

They assume that I am just another woman out and about because my mannerisms are not giving them any clues that will make them suspicious. Sure, my Amazonian appearance may give them clues, but at least I am not giving myself away with my mannerisms.

Next time you are out en femme, make eye contact and see how it works for you.

Looking Ahead

At the end of April, I will be speaking/outreaching en femme at two Human Sexuality classes.

I also may be doing the same at one or two Abnormal Psychology classes before the end of the spring semester.

Next month, I will spend four days en femme (24/7) traveling to and from Dayton, Ohio and attending the Hamvention there.

In early June, I may attend my law school's reunion. I say "may" because so far, only three people from my class have signed up for the event. And I only know one of the three. So, at this point in time, it wouldn't be much of a reunion for me. But there is still time for that situation to improve.

After that, summer means fun!

Miss Universe Pageant To Allow Transwomen

NEW YORK -- Transgender women will be allowed to participate in the Miss Universe beauty pageant next year, officials announced Tuesday, a week after they ruled a trail-blazing 23-year-old could vie for the crown this year.

Pageant officials said they are working on the language of the official rule policy change but expected final word to come soon. Trials for next year's Miss Universe pageant begin this summer.

You can read the rest of the story here on The Huffington Post.

This is old news; I began hearing reports about this last week, but I just had a thought about it today when reading the above quoted HuffPost article.

Will the amended Miss Universe rules allowing transwomen to participate in the pageant be all-inclusive? That is, will pre-ops and no-ops, as well as post-ops be included?

Just a thought.

A Man's Got To Do What A Man's Got To Do

No Bonnet, Just Ears

Happy Easter!

Death in the Family

My aunt died yesterday.

She had been very sick for a long time, but things got complicated over the weekend and she was hospitalized earlier this week. Everyone figured that she would never leave the hospital alive and they were correct. I planned to visit her tomorrow morning, but that was too late.

My aunt could have been a fashion model. She was tall and thin and had high cheekbones. People said she resembled Lauren Bacall.

She never married and never owned a car, so she had some expendable income, which she used to dress to the nines.

In the 1950s and 1960s, she was a fashion plate. In that era, I never saw her wear anything but a dress and high heels and often a hat and white gloves.

I don't know about her other nieces, but my aunt's fashion sense had a great influence on me.

Rest in peace, Aunt A.

How High?

Another Update: Here is a link to the full version of original article. Seems like the first time you visit that link, the full article shows up, but subsequent visits asks you to subscribe. The website must be setting a cookie, so read it the first time and don't click back.

Update: The link I included here yesterday worked for me, but not for you! I just updated the link and hope it works for you this time.

High heels seem to be the theme this week.

Hot on the heels of two shoe posts here, The Wall Street Journal has an article today titled "Pushing High Heels to the Limit."

The article considers the question, "How high can a killer heel go—without killing your feet?"

Here is a link to the article which "will be available to non-subscribers of the Online Journal for up to seven days." So read it now or regret missing it later.

Thank you Sandy and Wertand for alerting me to this article.

Finding a Sole Mate

At the banquet Saturday night, Jen and I were discussing our love of high heels and she mentioned that she uses a shoe insert that allows her to dance the night away in 4-inch stilettos.

I have tried shoe inserts in the past and have not been impressed, but Jen swears by the ones she uses and she e-mailed me the link to the product website.

At the website, I learned that Insolia Inserts are different from the inserts I have tried (and discarded). Instead of adding padding to the shoe, which is basically what those other shoe inserts do, "Insolia Inserts shift weight off of the ball of the foot back to the heel by placing the foot in the optimal position for high heels."

Jen's recommendation, customer comments on the website, and this review convinced me try them. So I placed an order and will let you know how they work out next time I go out en femme.

Test

Testing the Blogger app on my new iPod Touch.

High Heels As Good Medicine

My neuroma had not bothered me much since the doctor gave me a shot last summer, but it started acting up about two weeks ago. Everyday there was annoying pain around the fourth toe of my left foot.

It was not debilitating, just annoying. Twice a day for two weeks, I applied a prescribed ointment on the toe to ease the pain, but it would not go away completely.

Before I slipped on my pantyhose and high heels Saturday night, I gave the toe a double dose of the ointment and my toe was free of pain throughout the banquet despite wearing six-inch platform heels for seven hours.

Sunday morning, the pain was still absent and has been absent ever since. Go figure.

I am now penning an article for the The New England Journal of Medicine suggesting that six-inch platform pumps are a possible cure for neuroma. (Only kidding!)

From My Room

After Prepping and Primping

Prepping and Primping

Saturday night, I attended the annual banquet of the Connecticut Outreach Society at the Four Points By Sheraton in Meriden, CT.

After I woke up Saturday morning, I began getting ready by attacking the hair on my legs, arms, shoulders, back, and breasts with Nair, while avoiding the armpits, neckline, and nipples, which I learned the hard way do not get along with Nair. After Nair removal, I attacked those other parts with a gel shaving cream and manual Gillette Fusion razor.

After completing body hair removel, I ran my normal Saturday errands until 2 PM, when I returned to prepping for the evening out en femme.

It began with a close shave of my face and neck using a gel shaving cream and the Fusion razor, followed by a moisturizer, primer, and powder foundation.

Next, I sculpted my cheekbones and added blush.

I removed stray eyebrow hairs and used an eyebrow pencil to fill in and shape my brows.

I used a new smokey eyeshadow quad from Avon and was very happy with the results. Then I topped off my eyes with a black powder eyeliner and Avon's new "SuperExtend Extreme" mascara.

The night before, I watched The Seven Year Itch on TCM and decided I would femulate Marilyn Monroe's red lip color by using a red lipliner and red lipstick.

After making up my face, I sprayed it with a makeup setting mist.

Six hours later, I was done.

Only kidding. It actually took about an hour to makeup my face, which is about a third of the time longer than normal, but I wanted everything to be perfect for Saturday night.

Next, I slipped on my wig, and worked on my hairdo. 

Hair set and sprayed, I then dressed: a Spanx wannabe below my breasts and a strapless bra over them, nude pantyhose, and my to-die-for evening gown. Accessories included pearl earrings and bracelet, a glitzy silver/black purse, and a black silk scarf wrap.

I put on Kiss stick-on nails and Chanel No. 9, snapped a few photos, and left home at about 5 PM.

Checking-In with My Fashion Consultant

For the drive to the hotel, I wore slingback three-inch heels, but at the hotel, I slipped on my ShoeDazzle satin peep-toe platform pumps with ankle strap and rhinestone-dotted 1-inch platform and 6-inch heel.

My good friend (and fashion consultant) Patty wanted to see my outfit, so I stopped at her house and let her see what I had wrought. She was impressed.

We chatted awhile, then I left to continue my journey to the hotel two miles away.

The hotel parking lot was nearly full, but I found a spot and then spent about ten minutes switching shoes, which is not easy to do in the confines of a Subaru Outback.

Despite the full lot of cars, there were no humans outside or inside except for the transwomen staffing the banquet check-in table outside the ballroom.

Checking-In at the Hotel

Ham radio sister Melissa was checking in when I arrived, so we caught up on our recent pasts, I bugged her to take my picture (more than once), and we sat at the same table along with old trans girlfriends Laura (nee Wendy), Alice, Alice's spouse Doris, Michelle, and new trans girlfriends Denise and Idano.

I bought a drink and socialized with old friends and new: Deja, Diana, Jan, Janice, and Sylvia. I also met three girls who attended the event because they read about it in this blog: Diane from Long Island, Stacey from New Haven and her girlfriend Jen, who lives just down the road from me (small world!).

After 90 minutes of hobnobbing with many of the 54 attendees, we sat down to eat. The meal was typical hotel fare, but it did not matter much to me because I eat like a bird when I am girdled.

Freshening Up in the Ladies' Room
After My Act of Sheer Folly

My Act of Sheer Folly

After dinner, there were awards for deserving members of the support group, a comedienne who laughed at her own jokes, and the annual Follies.

In the past, four to six people usually performed in the Follies, but lately it has been just Deja and me. She sings and plays guitar (both very well) and I lipsync (just so-so).

This year it was just Deja and me again, but instead of lipsyncing I decided to sing The Beach Boys song "In My Room."

I wrote about that song earlier this year.

"If ever there was a song about teen transgender angst, 'In My Room' was it. I am sure Brian Wilson did not have crossdressers in mind when he wrote the song, but almost any youth with gender issues could identify with the lyrics of that song."

I own The Beach Boys Stack-O-Tracks album, which contains the instrumental tracks (no vocals) to 15 of their hits including "In My Room," so I had the perfect musical accompaniment to my not-so-perfect singing voice.

I copied the song onto my iPod over a month ago and began practicing during my daily commute. After a few days of that, I concluded that singing that song with my inadequate voice would bore the audience, so I decided to change the lyrics to make it more interesting.

After a few writing attempts, I came up with new lyrics and I practiced every day even during my drive to the banquet Saturday night. But as I sat waiting for the comedienne to finish her act, I began to get stage fright. Going over the lyrics in my head, they suddenly did not sound right. I was close to breaking out in a cold sweat when Deja called me up to the front of the dance floor to perform.

I pulled myself together and was ready to give it a go, but then there was a malfunction with the DJ's equipment. She could not get audio from the track I had given her and suggested using the karaoke version of the song, which she had on hand.

I was unsure about using the karaoke version, but I had no other choice, so being a trooper, I said, "On with the show." But then she discovered the error of her ways and got my track to work. I was relieved and sang my heart out with the following lyrics:

     There's a world where I can go and try on women's clothes,
     In my room, in my room.

     In this world I wear a bra and support pantyhose,
     In my room, in my room.

     Do my hair up and my makeup, even shave my gams,
     Do my nails, wear high heels, I'll look very glam.

     Now it's dark and I can sneak out dressed just like my Mom
     From my room, from my room...

I got laughs from the audience after singing the very first line. That knocked the stage fright out of me and I received a nice applause at the end.

The Rest of the Story

Deja sang three songs after me, then the DJ played requests and the boys and girls danced the night away.

I talked the night away instead and had a wonderful time connecting with old and new friends.

Fashion Note 1: I had no trouble walking in the six-inch heels, but a few times, standing in place, I had to catch myself from falling forward. No - I was not inebriated; I had one alcoholic drink the whole night.

Fashion Note 2: I had more trouble getting tangled up in the long skirts of my evening gown. Despite that, I received a lot of compliments regarding the gown.

I did not wear a watch and was very surprised when I asked the time and found out it was 12:15 AM. Shortly after, I said my goodbyes and drove home.

I so enjoy being a girl.

In My Room

That's me singing my version of "In My Room" at the Connecticut Outreach Society's annual banquet last night. My thanks to the lovely Jan Brown for the photo.

I will post a full report here about last night's adventure real soon now.

Going Out

After I post this, I will begin getting en femme for the Connecticut Outreach Society's banquet tonight.

I promise to post photos and words about tonight in a day or two.

My Prom

In school, I did not date much. I interacted easily with girls on a day-to-day basis, but when it came to dating, I did not interact successfully.

Looking back four decades later, I realize that interacting with girls on a day-to-day basis was easy because I was so feminine, I was really a girl. However, dating girls was difficult because I had to act like a male and that was so foreign to me that I was lousy at it.

When I attended my high school's prom, my sister had to set me up with her best friend as my date. That date went fine because I already knew my sister's friend well; it was as if we were two girls out on a date. The only problem was that one girl had to wear a tuxedo.

I have been trying to make up for that wardrobe disfunction ever since.

I consider my support group's annual banquet as my do-over prom. It gives me an opportunity to dress to the nines in the correct wardrobe and be a prom queen for one night.

My do-over prom is Saturday night and you bet I am looking forward to it.

Battle of the Reversed Sexes

In the fashion world, you have males dressing like females and females dressing like males.

Now the twain have met: feminized males interacting with masculinized females.

 A new fashion shoot, titled "Battle of the Sexes" pits a male model in womenswear against a female model in menswear.

You can read all about it and see a slideshow of the shoot at The Huffington Post.

Wardrobe Shift

Found this postcard from the UK on eBay. Postmarked 1913, it depicts a startling contrast in his and her clothing before and after marriage.

Haste Makes Waste

The last few days have been very hectic (don't ask), and as a result, my haste has laid waste to this blog.

In Monday's post, the title should have been "Like MacArthur" (as in Douglas MacArthur) not "Like MacArthr."

In Sunday's post, a key sentence never made it into the published post, although it did appear in the draft. My two cents worth should have been prefaced with the following: "There are two ways of looking at this:"

I corrected both errors.

By the way, I would have said more about the Miss Universe Canada flap in Sunday's post if I had remembered that Donald Trump owns that pageant. On the other hand, if you can't say anything nice about someone, don't say anything at all, so I guess it all worked out.

The lady in today's The Femulated spot needs a little introduction. She is Anne N and according to her e-mail, "I have been a TG person since I was born, my mother brought me up as a girl until the age of five, then I had to go to boy's school. Believe me that was one of my first traumas in life. I have a Master's degree in Engineering, a major's commission in the military, been married three times and I am gay. My profile is on Flickr and Yahoo."

Anne just celebrated her 79th birthday and sent me some current photos "to show the younger generation of TV people that one can still look reasonable although they are ageing. ...one can age gracefully, without miniskirts and fishnet stocking."

Happy Birthday, Anne.

Like MacArthur

Michelle was one of the founders of my support group. She was very active in the group for the better part of two decades holding down a variety of elected and unelected positions in the organization including the always difficult program chairperson role.

A half dozen years ago, her attendance at support group meetings became became irregular and eventually she stepped back from having any active positions in the organization. The last time I saw her was at the support group's annual banquet a three or four years ago.

She just faded away.

Last week, there was an announcement on the support group's e-mail list that Michelle had died. I assume that the only reason we found out about her passing is that one of our members had a professional relationship with Michelle's male side, so she knew Michelle's male name and saw the obituary in the newspaper.

Typically, that does not happen. In most cases involving transgenders who live part time as men and part time as women, we do notir know their male names. When they die, their obituaries never mention their female names nor the fact they were transgenders. So we never know when they pass on.

Over the years, I have met a lot of older transgenders. Most of them were just acquaintances; a few were more than that, but most of them just faded away. I assumed they became ill and or died, but I'll never know.

It is sad. Old transgenders never die, they just fade away.