Pizzas, Taxis and the M25
By Michelle Bowles
It was after 3 PM and except from a piece of carrot cake, I had eaten since a very early breakfast. We found a local Pizza Express that was very busy especially for a table for six. However, after a short discussion among the staff, we were shown downstairs. There were spare tables here, but the one we were shown was very close to a family of four already seated and I was a little apprehensive especially as I ended up sitting diagonally opposite and very close to their two young daughters. How long before there were sideways glances and questions to their parents about my gender?
Those glances never came and I felt better.
The conversation flowed and we talked about a whole range of things: pizzas, holidays, work situations, what a great day it had been and even makeup and moisturizers were discussed. And I am pleased to say, trans issues were not mentioned, so once again I felt just “one of the girls” and accepted as such.
Eventually we paid the bill, went to call a taxi and one of the boys asked me if I felt more confident after the makeover. I explained that I did a little bit, but I had felt quite confident beforehand. This was the only time during the day any reference at all was paid to my trans status and even then, this could have been asked of a female, too.
We had trouble getting a taxi for six as we made our way to another upmarket London store, Liberty’s. So I offered to walk and tube it so others could find a taxi more easily. This was a mistake as it took forever to get there and involved much walking and a bit of getting lost.
Eventually we got to Liberty’s to see their Christmas display, whereupon M and myself went downstairs to find the only ladies’ room in this multi-floor store. To add to this shortage of options, when we got there we found only three cubicles, a queue and not the best conditions. We were not impressed especially after the Harrods' toilets, which were palatial with large mirrors, hand cream and even perfume.
When we returned to the Christmas display, I decided to leave the others to try on some clothes on another floor, but after a long look I found very little except a skirt, but at £135 ($169), I was not going to buy it! After trying it on, I thanked the lovely assistant, rejoined the others and after a quick look on other floors, we decided to leave and made our way back to the cars. By the time we started our drive home, it was close to 9 PM.
M and I arrived home around an hour and a half later. I changed back to male mode, but the others hadn’t arrived, so they did not meet my male half.
And that was it!
Soon gone, but I had spent over 14 hours
en femme doing pretty ordinary things (apart from a Harrods' makeover). I had been treated as a female all day. The only exception to this was one of the boys referred to me as “he” a few times and even once called me by my male name. Although a little disappointing, I can understand this in a way, as I have male body language, am tall and still have a masculine voice (despite my efforts). M was word perfect in this respect ― “she” or “Michelle” every time.
Only on a couple of occasions, was I given a second glance to my knowledge, but I am about 6’3” in heels, so any similarly tall female might experience this too. I was “Madam’d” at least twice and the staff in the restaurant didn’t even do a double-take nor did those girls sitting about three feet away.
I know there has been a lot written in Femulate recently about being “read” and how it shouldn’t matter. In a way, that’s true, but I aim to present as just another woman and it disappoints me if the evidence suggests that I have not achieved that.
I received compliments on my clothes and makeover, which I can heartily recommend (tell them Michelle sent you) and the other girls made a number of helpful suggestions on products and alternatives. I know I’m too male in returning these compliments; I don’t do it naturally, probably worried that it comes over as flirting, but I must try harder. There were also compliments on how I could walk all day in the boots, which surprised me, too.
I reckon it was my best day
en femme rivaling or perhaps beating my Ascot outing over two years ago (see previous Femulate article for details). As I left for home, I thanked M for organizing the day and how kind and patient she (and everybody else) had been. She said she had really enjoyed it, too, and “Just wanted people to be happy.”
My one regret was no time to go into women’s clothes shops, but another day is to be planned soon and this time my spouse is in, too, and we are going to hit those clothes shops!
Part 1 of Michelle's day in London appeared here on Tuesday and Part 2 appeared here yesterday.
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| Wearing Venus. |
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| Oliver Thornton femulating in an American stage production of The Taming of the Shrew. |
