By Norah Blucher
No, no name change here. I’m still just Norah Blucher, but I did recently have an out and about adventure that I deemed inspired by Stana and Paula G., as I took a recent business trip to Hartford, Connecticut, and went out en femme in Stana’s Nutmeg State stomping grounds. Mine was certainly not the most exciting outing in the wide world of femulation, but was a huge milestone for me and included many “firsts.”
Just for background, I was always primarily adomestic femulator. Leaving the house was rare and the goal was to avoid social interaction. As in zero! Try not to be seen at all and if so, just blend into the background or move away.
But I decided to change all that. Following the dissolution of a rather unhealthy relationship, I realized many things and perhaps more significantly, chose to end a long career whose benefit package included depression, anxiety, gas lighting and trust issues. I was in a bad place and closer to a breakdown than I realized. I did not femulate, even in the confines of my home, for over a year. I didn’t do much of anything for over a year really.
As I pieced together a new life though, I realized I had been handed a gift few ever get: the chance to start completely over, no strings attached and with more building blocks than I started with. With much trepidation, I took a new career that was totally out of my element in many ways and though it was difficult, whatever was thrown my way, I just went with it and I began to explore the world again as a new person almost. I felt I had missed out on so much of life for quite a while.
And I started femulating again. I guess I could not break that little thread; the urge was just there and was just part of me I had to accept. If I was to start life over though, Norah was to become an integral part of it and something I would not just accept, but embrace!
Here’s the naughty little problem though: if you want to get out in the world, but you are a very closeted femulator, you are always pulled in two directions. One part of you is always missing out. I looked in the mirror one day and told myself, “Girl, you get dolled up every chance you get and sit home or hide from view. You are not living to your full potential. This is not good, dear.”
So I joined a blog called Femulate.org looking to gain some pointers on getting out more and was floored reading about Stana’s journey, then again hearing how Paula G. would go on trips and go out en femme, as well as the exciting stories and information shared by everyone here. I did not know how just yet, but I was determined to femulate these accomplished femulators that inspired me. Not only did these people get out and about, they were living life, as much as possible as their femme selves! I learned so much, and met so many amazing and inspiring sisters and surprisingly found I had something to offer as well. I also read older posts and the one that hit me the most was an old one called “Don’t Let This Happen To You.”
And that was it. Emboldened by the trail blazed by others, it had come time for Norah to enter society. Not as a house sitter or a mute and nameless shadow that quickly vanished. An actual person that people saw and spoke to and interacted with. Not full-time by any means, but out and about when possible in a meaningful way. I did not feel ready in a lot of regards, but if I waited until I felt ready, I would wait forever. I waited anxiously for an opportunity to present its self.and when I arranged my trip to Hartford, I decided now was the time.
Hartford Get Ready!
I had hoped to go to a museum, dine, and do some shopping. It was raining much of the way, and traffic was slow, so I got to Hartford later than intended. The museum was also closed that day anyway, so it looked like get ready and go straight to dinner.
This was still ambitious to say the least. Navigating a store en femme is one thing, as you can move around, avoid people and even pay at a kiosk at times. You can interact with others if you want or just become part of the faceless matrix. You have options.
Dining at a restaurant is different. You have to talk to waitstaff if you want to eat. You can be surrounded by people who may stare and you are stuck there. Keep in mind I have never been to a support group, crossdressing event or even a therapist for trans issues. This was a rather bold step for me and I was skipping the warm up of wandering the museum alone.
Packing was done thoughtfully and I only brought what I needed to avoid any last minute indecision. I hope I do not disappoint anyone here, but I did not choose a nice dress or skirt. I had too much on my mind to worry about a run in my hose or my skirt riding up at the dinner table. I went with jeans, a nice top and lower heel Mary Janes. This is not out of place for me anyway as I’ve always worn a variety of styles. I’m just sort of easy breezy with a touch of glam and eccentricity. My goal was to interact with civilians, but not stand out too much.
It took three hours to get ready! An hour longer than usual. Partly because I wanted every detail to be perfect and mostly because of plain old procrastination. I also further delayed things by making the mistake of trying fake nails for the fist time and putting them on too soon. A note to the wise: put your nails on last! And don’t try something new the day you are going out. Fake nails are a hobbling experience until you adjust to them.
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| Yes, I made a wreck of the bathroom….. but I did clean it all up after. |
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| My first “manicure” |
Finally ready and dressed, I procrastinated some more as I stalled and thoughts raced through my head:
“Oh God Norah, you’re sweating. Not a good look, dear. Let’s add more perfume. Yes, better to smell like a tarte than a locker room.”
“Okay, let's practice the walk again… No you bloody bimbo, you’ve practiced for years, you’re just stalling! Get on with it already!”
“Alright, this is it. Deep breath Norah. One… two… three…”
And out the door I went. I heard the latch click behind me and paused for a second. The stairs and side exit were right across the hall flirting with me, calling like a Siren to take the easy way out. It was tempting. But no. No, no, hell no! I’ve been beaten down and treated like a piece of trash too long. This girl was going out the main lobby like anyone else! So, with my head held high, down the elevator it was, through the lobby and out the front door, as I drive off into the waning sunlight...
Does She Make It?
That’s enough for now I think. Questions and comments are always welcome below or e-mail me at nblucher at-sign proton dot me. Just don’t ask me the ending! You can read the rest next time and when that will be is up to Stana. I guess you’ll just have to read the blog daily to see when that is!
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| Wearing Boston Proper |
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| April Jones stopped at Victoria’s Secret on the way home from the office and encountered a live-stream of the Victoria’s Secret fashion show from NYC and the staff at Vickie’s snapped April’s photo.. |
