This week's pick of womanless events is the March 24 beauty pageant held as a fundraiser for the Band Boosters of Cass High School in White, GA. The Band Boosters enlisted local "businesswomen" to compete in the pageant and despite some facial hair, the "gals" did a credible job of displaying their womanly wiles. As usual, the girl I picked to win (see photo), did not.)
Thank you, Aunty Marlena for sending me the link to this event.
I mentioned here that I bought a new dress at DressBarn that I was attracted to when I walked into the store and saw it on display on a headless mannequin. (The "headless mannequin" also lacked legs and arms and I have since learned that such a mannequin is known as a "torso mannequin.")
Anyway, I forgot to mention that the mannequin was also wearing a beautiful necklace that perfectly accessorized the dress. On my way home after buying the dress, I regretted that I did not purchase the necklace, too.
Today, I had to go to the grocery store to replenish the food stuff that I eat for lunch at work. My favorite DressBarn is next door to the grocery store, so I stopped in to see if they had the necklace. (This was a different DressBarn than the one where I purchased the dress.)
I perused the jewelry racks three times, but could not find the necklace. I gave up looking and asked a saleswoman if they had the necklace in stock, while showing her a picture of the necklace that I had grabbed from the Internet.
She found it buried behind some other necklaces on the jewelry rack and now I have a nice new necklace to go with my nice new dress. Isn't that nice?
 |
| Paul Gross |
I promised to build an archive of The Femulated images that appear daily in the left sidebar. To properly archive 739-plus images is a big job, so I am doing it in manageable chunks.
The first chunk, The Femulated of Film and Television, is now available for viewing on flickr.
Each image includes the name of the femulator(s), the name of the film or tv show where they femulated, whether the image is a film or tv show, and the year of the femulation. If information is unknown, then it is labeled "unknown."
By the way, there is also one image from a radio show in the set.
Besides experiencing my worst nightmare on Monday, the rest of my day out went well.
My 40-minute drive to Southern Connecticut State University was uneventful. I parked my car and met MaryAnn, who had parked her car a few spots just north of my spot. Inside the classroom building, we met up with Professor Schildroth and Michelle, the third part of our trio of presenters.
After the six students showed up, we watched half-hour of a film titled Switch: A Community in Transition. It was a documentary about a woman, who is half of a lesbian couple and has transitioned to male and how that transition affects her "community." It was very interesting and someday, I would like to see the rest of the film.
Professor Schildroth asked me to show the class my blog, which we projected on the big screen (Coming Soon: Femulate: The Movie!) and to talk about my experience at my law school reunion. I also threw in a very short version of my biography. After I was done, MaryAnn and Michelle gave their biographies and we waited for questions from the students.
The jury is still out on my prediction that the students would be less intimidated asking questions because the class was small. Four students asked questions, two did not, but the quality of the questions was better than usual.
One question was a new one for me: When did I know I was trans?
My answer: Growing up, I knew I was different because my peers and adults made it painfully clear that I was different. Basically, they thought I was a sissy and basically, I was just being myself.
Around puberty, I discovered crossdressing and I found it to be a good match for "myself." After that, I considered myself to be "a plain vanilla crossdresser," which in retrospect, was my way of denying that I was transsexual.
After living as a woman in New York City for four-days in June 2009, it was then that I realized that I am a woman.
After class, Professor Schildroth invited us to lunch at a nearby restaurant. Being noon hour, the place was packed, but a table was cleared for us and we were seated among the throng. I noticed a few people checking us out, but there was nothing untoward. It could have been nothing more than people just checking out other people the way people do. The waitstaff (both male and female) referred to us as "ladies" and so it goes.
I was a bit frustrated ordering my meal. The first two things I ordered were not available, so I settled for soup and salad.
We chatted about the class and read the students' comments. I was mentioned specifically in one comment --- something to the effect that I was not as "open" as MaryAnn and Michelle. Go figure?
I said my goodbyes and departed about 2 PM because I thought I had to be home soon, but when I called home from my car, I discovered that I did not need to be home so soon and had more time to be myself. So I went shopping at a nearby DressBarn.
As I walked into DressBarn, I noticed a dress hanging on a headless mannequin that I thought would be perfect for me (the dress, not the mannequin). The dress on the mannequin was my size, but I could only find larger sizes on the racks, so I asked a saleswoman to get me the dress off the mannequin. I took it and another dreamy dress to the dressing room.
The dress was a "Draped Brooch Shift" that is "Cinched slightly left of center by a slender brooch, this cap-sleeve shift drapes effortlessly. Fixed side wrap detail with brooch."
It fit like a glove, looked nice on me (IMHO), so I bought it. (That's me wearing it in the photo.)
The other dress was a metallic copper-colored shutter pleat cocktail dress from the 70% off clearance rack. I would have bought it if it fit properly. The first one I tried on was too small; I could not zip it up all the way. The second one I tried on was one size larger, but it was too big. Facing front, it looked very nice, but in profile, there was room for a lot more stomach than I ever wanted to be burdened with, so I gave it up.
After DressBarn, I experienced my worst nightmare, which you can read all about in yesterday's post. As it turned out, I passed that test, but there is no need to be tested like that again!
Fashion Note
Monday was the first time I wore thigh high stockings and I was very happy with this new (for me) hosiery option. They stayed high on my thigh the whole day; there was very little slippage.
I had close encounters with objects that often resulted in pulls and runs in my pantyhose. My Berkshire thigh highs had no problems with those same objects.
The only negative thing about wearing thigh highs is that I was very aware of the silicon band that held them up. The bands were not too tight and did not hurt; nor did they leave a mark on my legs after I removed them. But I could feel them on my thighs the whole time I wore the stockings. I imagine that I will get used to the bands after awhile. It certainly is not a show-stopper and I plan to add more thigh highs to my wardrobe real soon now.
In the morning, I did outreach at a Human Sexuality class at Southern Connecticut State University.
After the class, the professor took us out to dine at a local New Haven eatery.
And after dining, I planned to return home. Before starting the car, I called home and discovered that my presence was not required at home as early as I had previously thought, so I had more time to spend out femme.
I pass a DressBarn on the way home, so I decided to stop and shop.
After shopping at DressBarn, I returned to my car and it won't start! The dashboard lights up, the radio plays, but when I turn the key, all I get is a loud ticking noise.
I have AAA, but I am a little concerned about dealing with AAA out femme.
As I am sitting in my car contemplating my next move and occasionally turning the ignition key to no avail, a small red pickup truck parks next to me just as I am cranking the ignition for the umpteenth time.
Two young fellows get out of the truck. They do not ask me if I needed help. Instead the driver walks to the front of my car and signals to me to pop the hood.
I gladly do so and the two of them poke around the engine compartment, but do not find anything amiss.
I have a set of jumper cables, so we tried jump starting the car, but that does not work.
Since my car has 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 about 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 remember 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. This morning, I popped the clutch again to start the car and drove it to my dealer to get it fixed.
I always worried about having car problems when out 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.
Today, I will do outreach at a Human Sexuality class at Southern Connecticut State University.
A few days ago, Leeanne commented, "You must feel very comfortable in your skin to be able to go into the situations you go into Stana."
Yes, I am very comfortable.
I admit that before I take that first step out the door en femme, I am a little hesitant. Part of it is due to fear and part of it is due to awe.
"Fear" that something may go wrong. (Except for an occasional wardrobe malfunction, nothing has ever gone wrong.)
"Awe" that I am actually going out en femme and functioning as a woman in society.
I hesitate for only a moment or two, then push myself out the door.
As soon as I hear the click of my high heels on the floor, pavement, sidewalk, or wherever I take those first steps, I stop thinking about being en femme because at that point, I am femme.
If male-to-female transgenders are called "transwomen," should male-to-female transgender fathers be called "transmothers" ?
Aunty Marlena keeps on finding new links to womanless events on the Internet. The February 10 Womanless Beauty Pageant at County Line High School in Ratcliff, AR is the pick of the week this week.
"It's no secret that in the black church there is a great divide over LGBT issues. Although Madea is not transgender, there are aspects of the character that raise questions about acceptance of black transgender women. Many gay men can blend in without being marked as gay, but for many women who are transgender, it is more difficult to blend in and avoid ignorance or rejection from faith communities. Whether transgender or gay, to be accepted in the church one has to 'butch' oneself up, but even then one wouldn't be fully accepted but relegated to the fringe instead. Or one could just join the choir, where there's a sort of unofficial don't ask, don't tell' policy."
Read the rest of the post here.
My Two Cents
Although, Mr. Guess restricts his discussion to the black church, I believe that transgender women and men run into similar walls of rejection in other faith communities.
For example, I attended Mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral en femme without incident (mainly because I was under the radar). However, I doubt if my presence in the Catholic Church would be accepted with open arms if it was known that I was a transgender woman.
What Would Jesus Do?
I am aware that there are other churches that do accept transwomen with open arms, but not the one I attended the first three-quarters of my life.
I truly believe that Jesus would accept me; it’s too bad that many of his followers would except me.
"Monday, Monday; can't stand that day"
Except when I am going out en femme on a Monday. And that is the case this Monday when I will be doing outreach at Professor Schildroth's Human Sexuality class at Southern Connecticut State University.
This outreach may be a little different than most because there are only six students in the class, all female by the way. Most classes are bigger; as I recall, the smallest class I have outreached before this one had about 15 students.
With larger classes, you would expect a larger pool of questions during Q&A, but that is not always the case because some students seem intimidated by their fellow students and will not ask questions.
With a small group of six, the potential pool of questions will be smaller, but maybe the students will be less intimidated and more willing to ask their questions.
She convinced me and I went shopping for thigh highs to wear to the reunion, but I was unable to find any in the handful of stores I was able to visit. I wore pantyhose to the reunion, but visited my favorite online boutique (Amazon.com) to shop for thigh highs.
Size is always an issue. One man's size 12 is another man's size 16, if you know what I mean. So I usually have to experiment in order to find the right size and since I was experimenting, I did not want to expend a lot of money.
I narrowed my choices to the Berkshire brand of thigh high stockings. The price was right (less than $4 a pair), the customer reviews were good, and their sizes looked promising.
I ordered two pairs in the color nude and in size "Queen 2," which they claim fit heights of 5'6" - 6'0" and weights of 185 - 250 lbs. I am a little taller than 6'0", but at the low end of the weight range, so I figured they might fit.
The stockings arrived yesterday. When I opened the package and removed a stocking, I was disappointed because it did not look long enough. I estimated that it probably might just make it over my knees.
So, I was very surprised when I tried one on. Not only did it make it over my knee, but it made it to the top of my thigh!
So, goodbye pantyhose and hello thigh highs!
Hana Pesut "is a self-taught photographer raised in a small town in the mountains and currently living in Vancouver, Canada. Her main focus in photography is the 'little moments' that people sometimes miss and later wish they had captured. She hopes to inspire others to take more photos in their day to day life."
One of Hana's photography projects is "Switcheroo." In this project, she takes a photograph of people wearing their own clothes, then they switch clothes, and she takes a second photo of the people after the switcheroo.
Not exactly femulations, but interesting and fun nonetheless, the project archives can be viewed here, while the latest Switcheroo photos can be viewed on Hana's blog.
I agreed and in short order, USPS delivered one of their black bras in size 40A. I immediately tried it on and it fit perfectly. The lower part of the cups are slightly padded and underwired to give my boyish breasts a little lift, which results in a more girlish profile. By the way, the bra is so comfortable that I did not realize that the cups were underwired until I read about their design!
As a test, I wore the bra all day one day while attending the Hamvention last month in Dayton and all I can say is that it behaved like a bra is supposed to behave; it did not require any attention the whole time. It fit well and required no adjustments as the day progressed; it was as if I was bra-less.
The bra is a quality product. I was especially impressed with the clasps that seemed of better quality than any others I have encountered in 50 years of femulating.
By the way, Perfectly Petite Lingerie offers a very personal service to their customers, and treat everyone as the individual they are. If people have special requests regarding delivery etc., they are always happy to oblige and often receive e-mails thanking them for our "excellent customer service."
I highly recommend Perfectly Petite Lingerie’s bra for girls like us.
I just came into a free stash of wax strips by the brand name of "Parissa."
I have never used wax strips and was looking for a little advice from anyone who has used them.
"Parissa's gentle, natural products result in salon-smooth skin that lasts for weeks. Skin stays smoother longer since regrowth is sparser and finer. Parissa products also exfoliate the skin and removes impurities for healthy, radiant skin. Results: smooth soft skin for up to 6 weeks; clean, supple results; safer than lotions & lasers; finer, sparser regrowth."
The part about "6 weeks" really got my attention.
We expect you to report for work in appropriate attire. The image projected by personnel is important to our company’s success. Even though we have adopted a casual dress code policy, you should exercise discretion in selecting clothes suited to a casual business environment.
For example, the following are not appropriate attire for an office environment:
• Backless or see-through shirts and/or styles that expose the abdomen, excessive skin or undergarments
• Ripped/torn clothing or jeans and low-rise styles that expose excessive skin/undergarments
• Miniskirts/dresses, short shorts and cut-offs shorts
• Stretch/stirrup pants/leggings unless combined w/mid-thigh length top
• Visible foundation garments, low cut and/or suggestive clothing
• Clothing that is unwashed or stained
• Bare feet, over the knee boots and beach shoes (rubber flip-flops)
Ouch - My wardrobe resembles some of that banned attire!
Leaving work yesterday, I mentioned to the receptionist that I will have to start abiding by the dress code.
"No miniskirts for me tomorrow," I remarked.
She laughed.
If she only knew! (And maybe someday, she will.)
Some people may think I pushed the envelope attending my law school reunion en femme on Saturday, but it really was not that difficult.
Yes, I had a few butterflies beforehand, but I always have a few butterflies before I go into the unknown. Doesn't everybody?
I clearly recall pulling into the south parking lot of the Basketball Hall of Fame Saturday evening. The parking lot was relatively empty; the only people in sight were a family dressed very casually. There was not a soul who looked liked they were attending a reunion.
I thought, "Do I have the right day for the event?"
I discarded that notion because I immediately recalled that a few days earlier, I had exchanged e-mails with one of the reunion organizers and she wrote, "See you Saturday night."
I drove to the north parking lot and found it a little fuller than the south lot, but the only people I saw were also dressed too casually for a reunion.
I parked my car and while switching from my flats to my heels, I watched out for anybody dressed more appropriately.
A car pulled in and parked in the next row just opposite me. Trees blocked the view, but as folks exited that car I could see their feet hit the pavement and one pair of feet was wearing a killer pair of high heel pumps. I knew then I was in the right place.
After that, all the butterflies flew away and I was completely comfortable in Stana mode.
When I am in that state, I do not even think about being en femme because I am not en femme. Men may be en femme, but women cannot be en femme; it's redundant.
I was not en femme; rather I was presenting as the gender I am. And it was completely natural; it was perfect.
 |
| Hanford (CA) High School, 1986 |
I uploaded over 20 new images to the Yearbook Femulations collection on flickr. Starla keeps finding them and I keep uploading them --- so you have her to thank for the ever expanding collection!
These are things I failed to mention in yesterday's long post about my law school reunion at the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame (photo above).
---xxx---
A couple of my classmates urged me to get involved with my law school's new Center for Gender & Sexuality Studies. I am very interested in doing so, but I don't know if I have anything to offer since I never practiced law.
One of my classmates thought that did not matter because just telling my transgender story would be enlightening to many people just as it was to my classmates who heard it Saturday night.
I do plan to contact the Center and find out if they are interested in me as I am of them.
---yyy---
The three female classmates who I conversed with extensively at the reunion seldom spoke to me when we were attending law school. I cannot recall having an extended conversation with any of them back then.
So, needless to say, I was very surprised how they interfaced with me at the reunion. It was like we were four old girlfriends reliving the past.
I assure you that I am not complaining, but I was very surprised nonetheless.
---zzz---
I wore flats while driving to and from the Hall of Fame, but I wore heels (my black patent open-toed slingbacks) during the 4-1/2 hours attending the reunion and it was a painless experience thanks to the Insolia shoe inserts. I recommend them highly and plan to purchase more.
 |
| Ready to Go to the Hall of Fame |
My law school reunion experience was just fabulous, as I wrote in my last short blog post.
For those of you out of the loop, on Saturday evening, I attended my law school reunion at the Basketball Hall of Fame in Springfield, MA.
Getting ready yesterday afternoon, I cut myself badly using a new blade in my razor. It was a deep cut just under my left nostril and it took forever to stop bleeding. As a result, it took me longer to do my makeup, initially working around the cut, then waiting for the bleeding to stop when I could go no further by working around it. Luckily, I started doing my makeup early enough so that any technical difficulties would not affect my arrival time at the Hall of Fame.
I was dressed and out the door (after snapping a few photos) at 4:45 PM to make the 50-mile trip by 6 PM when the cocktail hour began. On the way, the traffic message boards on the interstate informed me that the exit I had to take to switch from I-84 to I-91 was closed and it recommended a detour via another highway. I thought about driving to an exit before the closed exit and trying to work my way to an I-91 entrance, but I was familiar with the recommended detour and figured I would only lose 10 minutes, whereas who knew how much time Plan A would cost me. So I took the detour and lost about 20 minutes instead of 10.
The rest of the trip was smooth-sailing and I arrived at the Hall of Fame at 5:55 PM --- perfect timing!
I entered the Hall of Fame complex and quickly found the site of the reunion. I was in error in that I thought that the reunion would be held in the Center Court banquet hall. Instead, it took place in a smaller banquet hall in the complex. It was not as spectacular as I pictured the Center Court, but it was very nice nonetheless.
I checked in and immediately encountered the woman who I had exchanged a few e-mails with concerning the reunion. I introduced myself; she welcomed me and helped me find my name badge.
There were about 20 people already in attendance. I recognized one of my classmates, CR, a woman who I considered a school acquaintance, not a long lost friend. I said hello to her and she returned a hello, while looking at my name badge trying to figure out who I was (the badge listed Stana, my real last name, and my class year, 1977).
She was carrying a copy of our class yearbook, so I suggested she look me up in the yearbook to refresh her memory. She did and when she put two-and-two together, she exclaimed, "Oh my god! Stanley, you are beautiful now!"
She gushed over how I had changed and then we chatted a bit trying to catch up on the past 35 years in five minutes. CR was distracted by another person, who I did not recognize, so I went to the bar and got a glass of white wine.
 |
| My Classmates and I |
I mingled with myself for about five minutes, then CR came around again and pointed me the direction of a table where other 1977 classmates were gathering, so I headed in that direction. There I found two other female school acquaintances (PM and LF) and one of my best friends (JB) and his wife.
An aside, as it turned out, there were nine people in my class who made it to the reunion. Four women and five men. All the women came solo and all five men came with their wives. I believe that the three other women are unattached.
Both PM and LF welcomed me with open arms as if we were old girlfriends and not just acquaintances (I think CR had informed them of my presence before I found their table, so they were expecting me). I did not recognize JB immediately, but when I realized it was my old friend, I greeted him warmly and gave him a hug. His wife, EB, introduced herself and she was very welcoming, too. We all exchanged our stories about the last 35 years, but the women were more interested in hearing my story than relating theirs to me. So as not to disappoint, I obliged and held an impromptu outreach session.
Another friend, MM, showed up and he greeted me like the old friends we were.
The cocktail hour flew by and before I knew it, PM was beckoning me to join her at the 1977 table in the dining room. I sat down next to PM and we chatted forever, mostly about me. She assumed that I was a post-op TS and I explained that I was not. Actually, everyone I talked to about being transgender assumed I was post-op and I explained to all of them that I was not.
PM said that I was undoubtedly a woman and that I was more of a woman than she was! She said she never felt like a "woman" and was not sure what it meant to feel like a woman. I basically said we are what we are, but society pigeonholes us as "men" or "women" according to their "standards."
After dinner, which by the way, was excellent, I had a long discussion with EB about being transgender. EB is in the entertainment industry in the City and as a result, she is familiar with transgenders and knows where I am coming from more or less.
I mentioned to her that her husband, JB, was the person who told me at the law school Halloween party 36 years ago, that he never realized how feminine I was until he saw me in my costume en femme and realized that it was such a good fit for me and my personality, mannerisms, etc.
MM sat down next to me to chat a bit and said that I was very brave to do what I did. And I replied with my standard comeback to the bravery comment, that is, I don't consider it brave to be yourself… to be what who you are. But he said I was too modest and that if he was in the same situation, he doubted if he could do what I did.
Maybe, maybe not, but it was very nice of MM to say what he did. In fact, I received nothing but support and positive words from all my classmates.
I did not mix much with the other attendees; there was not much time to do so. But early on, one woman from the class of 2006 introduced herself and we had a short chat about what we had in common, that is, the mispronunciation of our first names. Her name is Zoe and people call her Zo or Zo-ee. About half the people pronounced my name correctly (rhymes with Donna) and the other half got it wrong, but I didn't mind.
The only other non-classmate I recall speaking with was a professor who dined at our table and sat right next to me. He began teaching at the school the year after I graduated, so he did not know me from the school, but I asked him about what happened to some of the people I worked with way back when (I worked in the library while attending law school) and he tried to fill me in on what he remembered (not much as it turned out).
The evening ended much too quickly and I was on my way home at 10:30 PM.
I had a wonderful time to put it mildly!
I had a fabulous time at my law school reunion last night.
I have a lot to write about and I will post those words ASAP. For now, I leave you with a photo of my classmates and four of their spouses (I am seated far right).
