Becoming That Girl

That Girl in the Mirror

As a youngster, I became fascinated with female impersonation after seeing weekly advertisements in the Daily News depicting glamorous women who were actually men performing at a nightclub, the 82 Club, in New York City.

One thing led to another and around age 12, I began experimenting with female impersonation myself. Whenever I was home alone, I would explore the wardrobes and cosmetics of my mother and sister. And over the years, I became adapt at transforming myself into a presentable female — so much so that when I attended Halloween parties dressed as a woman, other guests often wondered why I was not in costume!

Such affirmation of my impersonation was wonderful, but I was closeted and only displayed my talents on those handful of occasions when I was invited to a Halloween celebration. As a result, I was frustrated keeping my impersonation under wraps, but I also had fleeting thoughts that there was something more to my impersonation beyond all its trappings. I thought I might be transsexual.

That thought was contrary to everything that was “normal” in my world. So I forgot about it and concentrated on becoming the best “plain-vanilla” crossdresser I could be. But there just weren’t enough Halloween parties in my life, so I began exploring the Internet for other outlets for the woman I was impersonating.

Via a transgender group on CompuServe, I learned about a local support group for crossdressers. I joined the group, became an active member attending its twice monthly meetings and relishing its infrequent expeditions out amongst the civilians visiting restaurants, nail salons, clothing stores, beauty parlors and wig stores!

Through those expeditions, I gained the confidence to go out in public on my own and despite my fears, the world did not end when I did so. Instead, I discovered that I fit in as just another middle-aged woman — a fashionably-dressed middle-aged woman — but a middle-aged woman, nonetheless.

I also discovered that fitting in as a middle-aged woman was a perfect fit. I was not a female impersonator, rather I realized that I was actually a woman who happened to have a male body.

It all made sense. All my life I was naturally “feminine” according to society’s definition of feminine. And being feminine was not an act; it was not something I strived to be — it was just me being me.

A telling moment was when I attended a college Halloween party dressed as a woman. At the party, a friend mentioned that he never realized how feminine I was as a male until he saw me dressed as a woman. In his eyes, my feminine speech, mannerisms and appearance had all come together and at that moment, I was a woman and not a feminine guy.

(excerpted from Fantasia Fair Diaries)

Paolo Ballesteros femulating in the 2016 Filipino film Die Beautiful.

Womanless Beauty Pageants: The Astounding and the Underwhelming

By Starla Trimm 

Those among Stana’s disciples who enjoy the efforts of “civilians” putting on womanless beauty pageants, and have immersed themselves in the history and practice of that cultural phenomenon that is most prominent among the schools of the old Confederacy, quickly catch on to one thing: we learn that there are PAGEANTS and then there are…well (yawn) pageants. That is, we find ourselves reacting to photos of many middle/junior high school pageants with a jaw-dropping “Wow!” and most high school efforts with an indifferent “Meh.” Many of the former are virtually indistinguishable from “legit” female pageants in the femininity and beauty of the participants, while at the higher level, it’s pretty obvious right off the bat that these are guys.

The most obvious reason for this disparity is, of course, biology. Middle school boys are just smaller and in general more androgynous-looking than their older counterparts. Take most any 12- to 14-year-old male,before the full ravages of puberty, body hair, and that final growth spurt have worked their masculinizing voodoo, and with just a little attention to makeup, a good wig, and a well-fitting pageant dress, he’ll be as pretty as a female of similar age. Many boys that age even sound more like girls; their voices not yet having fully dropped from juvenile soprano to budding baritone. But just a scant few years up the road, when the testoterone begins to really boil… beard shadow, broad shoulders, leg and arm hair… well, it just complicates things.

But there’s more to it than that. There is also, perhaps more importantly, the psychological factor. There is a vast difference between, say, a 12-year-old sixth grader and a high school senior about to turn 18 in their personality, self-image and the way they relate to others.

Middle school boys are more malleable at that age. They are much more likely to cooperate and yield to Mom and/or Sis’ cosmetic machinations (you don’t think they look that good on their own, do you?) and allow themselves to be transformed into a believable, attractive girl. Hell, a 6th or 7th grader is only a couple of years removed from a time when playing “dress-up,” in general, was seen as a fun activity and while they are beginning to rebel and leave “kid stuff” behind, there’s still a lot of “kid” there.

But once in high school, attitudes change. Guys now have much more invested in their personal masculinity and they are more reluctant to be seen as enjoying themselves in silk and satin, lest their friends raise an eyebrow. They are far more likely to treat a womanless pageant as a joke and present a slipshod image that cries out, “Hey, I’m still a MAN – I don’t take this crap seriously.” And even the ones that do still make some effort cosmetically and sartorially, often adopt a kind of “fierce” drag queen look – more RuPaul than Miss America.

There are exceptions, of course. A fellow friend of this website once suggested that high schools that really cultivate an overall attitude of excellence and achievement among their students often produce excellent womanless pageants. The same young men who strive and compete to excel in sports or academics may well approach a pageant with the attitude of  “well, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to be the prettiest 'girl' on that stage and win this thing!” and put forth as much effort as they would making the football team or aceing the SATs.

There are also schools like Glenvar High School in Virginia (with its decades-old annual “Groovy Teens” pageant) that have a long-standing tradition of putting on a pseudo-professional pageant with many realistic femulations, in which case it’s a matter of school pride to play along. To buck tradition and not go all out would be unthinkable.

But, for the most part, if you enjoy seeing excellent (and sometimes truly remarkable) amateur femulations, younger is definitely better.  (Actually, that’s pretty much true in a lot of life’s arenas, as this just-turned 60 and wondering how I got so old so fast girl can attest!)

Wearing Venus (Source: Venus)

Gabriel Sanches femulates in Brazilian television's The Big Catch.

A Very Good Day

A Perfect Size 12

My favorite girdle has seen better days. It is old and showing its age, so I shopped around and found its clone on the JCPenney website. After recently returning girdles and bras to Amazon because of sizing issues, I am not anxious to order online again. So I measured old reliable with a tape measure and took my figures to JCPenney in West Farms Mall after my lunch with Diana on Friday.

Entering the store, I found a vast unmentionables department, but searched high and low for the girdle without success. Revisiting the website when I returned home, I noticed that the girdle was available online only, a small, but critical detail I missed going in.

C'est la vie! So I started perusing the dress racks.

I found a beautiful green blazer on the clearance rack. Tried it on and it fit perfectly, but the sleeves were too short (or my arms are too long). Either way, I hung the blazer back on the rack. A 50-something woman noticed me trying on the jacket and made a sympathetic sad face when she saw the sleeve/arm-length problem.

She struck up a conversation with me as I checked out a beautiful to-die-for black and white dress, mentioning that she has so many black dresses, but she can't resist buying another. I said I am also a black dress girl. She commented that the dress I was wearing was also beautiful and I thanked her for the compliment.

The dress I was checking out was not available in my size, but considering that my last dress purchases (all size 14s) were a few months ago and that I was still losing weight, I thought that maybe size 12 would fit. So I took a size 12 to the dressing room.

I thought to myself that I was dreaming, that it would not fit and that I was wasting my time and I almost hung the dress on the discard rack when I found all the dressing rooms were occupied. Just as I considered abandoning it, a woman exited a dressing room and I took it over.

When I slipped on the dress and zipped it up, it fit perfectly (see photo). I was so happy! It looked great on me and even better, I have achieved something I never thought possible: I was now "a perfect size 12."

I took the dress to the cashier and found a half dozen people in line. While waiting patiently for my turn, a 30-something woman behind me said, "Hi" and held up the dress she was purchasing.

"Purple, right?" she asked.

"Yes, that is a very purple dress," I replied.

She was very excited about her find, told me how she was planned to accessorize it and asked me what I thought about her accessorizing plans. She complimented me on the dress I was buying as well as the dress I was wearing and we had a 10-minute conversation about fashion that ended when it was my turn to pay for my purchase.

The cashier, a 30-something woman, also complimented the dress I was buying. She asked if I was going to use my JCPenney credit card and I said, "Yes." However, I had not used the card in ages and the store had cancelled it.

She said if I applied for a new credit card, I could get a 20% discount on all my purchases that day. How could I refuse? So I began entering pertinent information into the mini-terminal next to the cash register. When there terminal asked for my annual income, I remarked that I had just retired and was not sure what my annual income would be.

She said, "You're too young to be retired."

I retorted, "My birthday was yesterday and I just turned 67."

She said I looked much younger than 67 and added that whatever I was doing, keep it up.

I thanked her for the compliment, finished applying for the credit card, paid for the dress, exited the mall and drove home.

I would say that I had a very good day out. I have had brief conversations with cisgender women in the past, but never had extended conversations like I did on Friday... not to mention I had three extended conversations on Friday. During each conversation, there was never that aha moment when the person you are conversing with suspects something is up. I am sure the cashier realized I was not cisgender female when I handed her my photo id to apply for the credit card, but she never said anything about it.

And so it goes.

Wearing Madeleine (Source: Madeleine)

Janek Traczyk femulates Anna Wyszkoni on Polish television's Twoja Twarz Brzmi Znajomo.

Someday Funnies

Myrna Loy in the 1934 film The Thin Man

William Powell in the 1941 film Love Crazy

Friday Out

Friday, I had lunch with Diana at the Corner Pug Restaurant in West Hartford (yes, it's "pug" not "pub"). Maryann was a no-show.

I wore a Calvin Klein white sweater dress, Payless nude high heels, B. Makowsky black bag, assorted unmentionables and jewelry.

It felt good to get dressed up to go out among the civilians. There was not much civilian interaction at the restaurant except for our 40-something waitress who stared at me intensely each time she came to our table. Don't know if she was checking out my beautiful makeup application or if she was trying to figure out who was under all that makeup. I was not imagining this – there was definitely something going on. It did not make me uncomfortable – I was just curious as to why she was doing it.

A few patrons in the restaurant checked me out when I walked to the ladies' room and to the exit, but I'm used to that. When you are a 6 foot 2 inch tall woman, it occurs often.

After lunch and pleasant conversation, Diana kindly offered to take my photo for the blog (see the photo above).

After more than an hour, we assumed Maryann was a no-show, so we parted ways.

Wearing Alexis (Source: Intermix)

Jonathan Prince, Michael Zorek and Matthew Modine femulating in the 1983 film Private School.

Fridays are from Venus

Cabin Fever No More Dept.

After months of winter weather and weeks of the flu, I have a bad case of cabin fever. Just in the nick of time, Diana of Diana's Little Corner in the Nutmeg State fame asked me to join her and another friend, Maryann, for lunch today.

It was touch and go when 15 inches of snow fell here Wednesday night, but the snow melted quickly and the roads are clear and ready to transport me on a day out en femme.  

Very Good News Dept.

Religion does not justify firing a transgender employee, appeals court rules. Click here to read all about it.

Same Day Dept.

Coincidentally, yesterday was International Women's Day and my birthday.

Wearing Ramy Brook (Source: Ramy Brook)

I may be in error, but I believe that all the showgirls in this photo are femulators except for the girl sitting on the knee of the boy presenting as a boy (from the Australian television film Carlotta).

Getting Fit at Vicky's

Stephanie wrote, "Being a larger woman I have problems purchasing the right size bra. The bras max out at 38 for the Victoria's Secrets Bombshell styles. Has that been a problem for most gals or do they deal with a tight fit? I just wanted to know if you have heard from any other women out there? Being shy and trying to get the right size would involve a fitting."

I replied, "A bra fitting would be the best way to find the right size. My niece worked at Victoria's Secret for awhile and the saleswomen were used to fitting both men and women, so don't be shy – go for it, girl!"

Stephanie wrote back a few days later.

I did take your advice and went to Vicky's for a bra fitting. I got the courage up and to this day, I don't know where I got the courage to go in, but I was fed up with ordering bras online only having to return them because the were uncomfortable or I just didn't like the way they looked.

I needed something that made my girls stand out when wearing any of my low-cut dresses and tops and would last all day or through the night if I need them to. I hate tape method and the stick-on strapless would not hold up the whole day and I just don't want to have to deal with having to go through all the trouble. 

I like that you have so much experience and great advice, so I took your advice and went into a Victoria's Secret to have a salesperson size a Bombshell pushup bra and get something that fits me. I picked a Monday morning to visit the mall figuring that I would get in and out before the mall traffic picked up and I could work one-on-one with one of the sales ladies. I'm not passable and I didn't want the added anxiety of trying to femulate and pass along with the bra fitting, so I went in boy mode. 

The mall was empty and when I got Vicky's, there was nobody inside. I walked up to an older sales lady. When I mean "older," she was well into her 30's maybe early 40's. She seemed friendly enough and experienced.

I asked if I can get fitted for a bra. She said of course and had me follow her to the back of the store where there is a sectioned off area just for this purpose. 

Funny how matter of fact she was – like this happens all the time. Turns out that it does as I found out later. 

I thought that once I got past the initial asking part, the rest would be easier and it was! She was extremely helpful and found the right bra. 

During the fitting, we talked about other men coming in and she said that she waits on at least one or two men a week, understands it completely and was willing to help me anytime. She also said that I could call the store and ask for her and she would be more than happy to pull merchandise for me to pick up discretely when I can. 

I purchased several pairs of panties and two great fitting bras that work as well as you have described – one more step towards feeling and looking like the woman I am. 

It is so wonderful having someone with experience sharing advice for us who struggle at times. Although It was a nervous experience at first, I am relieved. 

Now on to the makeup counter!

Source: Bluefly

Womanless beauty pageant contestant

Faves

Here are a few of my favorite things.

I love carrying a handbag.

Don't know if I have Gynecomastia or not, but I do know that I have breasts that are large enough to fill a size 40B bra without inserts, pads or any other assistance. And when I slip on my bra, I love finding those two perky mounds on my chest (it never gets old).

Mom loved high heels, always wore them when she went out and she owned a closet full. Like mother, like daughter, I love high heels, always wear them when I go out and I own a closet full (over 100 pairs).

Mom had shapely legs. When she worked in an office before she married, her nickname was "Legs." Again like mother, like daughter, I inherited my mother legs and a transman once dubbed me "Leggy." I love being my mother's daughter.

I love being a feminine man. When I am en homme, it can be a hindrance, but it works so well for me when I am en femme that I would not have it any other way.

Making up my face is something I always look forward to. I love the process, the tricks, the shortcuts and especially the results. After I do my makeup, slip on my wig and look in the mirror, it is always an aha moment! (Yes, I really am a woman.)

Wearing Moda Operandi (Source: Moda Operandi)

Joey Debroy

Ladies at Lunch

By Michelle

In my previous articles I think I have mentioned the idea of a bucket list I have for my trans life. On that bucket list would be to go out with a group of cis females and be accepted as one of them. I had ideas of perhaps going on a hen night, which would be great thing to do, but I was offered an alternative, which I think is even better. My friend Irene turned 60 last month and she invited me to her lunch party at an Italian restaurant. That was an invitation I couldn’t refuse.

The plans developed and although some men had been invited, the date clashed with a football match and they decided to show their allegiance to their club and sent their apologies. So it was to be a women-only event and I was going.

What to wear of course was an issue – is it ever not? In the end, I decided to wear a cap-sleeved blouse and a calf-length grey skirt with my old favourite black high heel court shoes. Although I have some photos of me and the rest of the group, I don’t want to publish these without their permission and pixelating faces always looks a bit sinister to me, so I’m afraid I will have to paint a picture with words.

Irene asked if I could come already dressed and take her and another friend to the restaurant in my car. This would be relatively easy as my son was away that night so I could underdress and finish off in the car on the way. And this was my plan until the evening before the lunch when my son’s girlfriend phoned and asked if she could sleep at our home so that she didn’t’ have to drive home after going out for drinks with some friends. We had made this offer and we weren’t going to withdraw it, so this is exactly what she did. This complicated things a little as it meant that I could not apply makeup at home the following morning before I left. A minor irritant, but it just meant I had to do more on my “maintenance stop” on the way to Irene’s.

As it happened I left “underdressed” and was able to apply makeup and other finishing touches in a rest area en route. I arrived at Irene’s a few minutes late (fashionably late I like to think) and was introduced to Irene’s friend. We spent a while talking about various things which was very pleasant and settled down any nervousness I had. Then we left for our lunch appointment in the pouring rain.

After a 30-minute journey, we arrived at the restaurant and Irene went in to meet and greet her guests whilst I parked up and joined her a minute or so later. As I walked in, I was met by the group who were to be at the lunch and was introduced to everyone. This was it! I was now accepted as my female self and I felt I was “in for the journey.” We sang “Happy Birthday” to Irene and were led to our table.

Apart from Irene, there was one other trans person there who I know quite well, but I was determined to not sit near her so that we didn’t drift into trans conversations. I managed to do this sitting between two of Irene’s cis female friends. That was good manoeuvring by myself!

The lady between Irene and myself didn’t know anyone there (apart from the birthday girl) and we soon struck up a conversation finding we had common interests; cycling, cakes, choosing the right hair colour and an inability to fully understand mobile phones.

The meal was really nice and I was accepted as female by everyone. Trans issues never came up at all in any of the conversations I had. It was also nice being within a group collectively addressed as “ladies” and one of the women, when I said I wasn’t on Facebook, said “good girl.”

If I can make a little aside here, I think we are all looking for something a little different in each other when we dress, but for most of us, I think we want to be seen as just another woman and any evidence that we are is such a nice feeling. So when this lady said those two words, seemingly very naturally, my heart gave a little jump for joy. I have written before on the joy of being addressed as “Madame” in public and this was similar.

We were at the restaurant for three hours and the time just flew by. As a group of 13 women, occasionally being quite loud, we were of some interest to other diners in the restaurant, but nothing out of the ordinary and when we left, many of them smiled nicely and said goodbye to us. I was even invited to join a walking group and a monthly brunch group by other women in the party, which again indicates I had been completely accepted as a woman.

We said our goodbyes and I took Irene and her friend home. She was overwhelmed at how nice people had been at her birthday party and was close to tears with emotion, which was nice to see because she is such a lovely person. It was then time for me to make my way home and Irene asked if I wanted to change before I left, but I refused saying I wanted to complete the whole experience as a female. I gave her a hug and I made my way home, finding a deserted car park to change in as the light faded in the sky.

Everything about the day (except the awful weather) had been marvellous; the company, the meal, the restaurant, being asked to come and then being totally accepted as female.

Richard O'Brien

Men in Uniform

True to the Army is a 1942 American musical-comedy intended to build morale and entertain during the dark days of World War II. It stars Judy Canova, Allan Jones, Ann Miller, Jerry Colonna and William Demerest.

I never saw the film, but there are clips of the film on YouTube and having seen the clips, I'd like to see the entire film someday. Not because the film is of Oscar quality, but rather because the clips show men in the uniform of the opposite gender!

May I direct you to two clips from the film.

"Wacky for Khaki" is the name of the song sung by Judy Canova in this clip. The theme of the song is her love of military uniforms. The guys show up in military garb in short order, but the song opens with a group of soldiers femulating in the high fashion of the day.

More femulating troops appear in the background of another clip from the film, Judy Canova singing "I Can't Give You Anything But Love."

The quality of these clips is not too good, but you get the picture.

Anyway, I'd love to see these clips in the context of the entire film.

Wearing Bebe (Source: Bebe)

Allied prisoners of war femulating in a German prison camp during World War II.