T-Central first featured Meg in this post, back in October. She continues to be a prolific blogger and holds true to her crossdressing "ideals". I love her humor and her honesty. For instance, this comment in a recent post:
It's a lot, but many transgendered males do not and will never pass as women. It's a fact. Some I've seen are breathtaking. Some, not so much. As Meg, I'm never sure if I'm turning heads, or stomachs.
So, today we'll let that one we call, Meg, have her say...
I haven't been out, dressed, a lot. Maybe ten times, probably fewer than twenty. I'm not counting the rite-of-passage trips, like a solo drive, or a walk around the hotel hall, or a few seconds in the back or front yard.
I’m counting trips where I got dressed and went out. Trips where I went somewhere, where I saw and was seen. I’ve been out shopping, for a manicure, for a makeover, to a party, for some gambling time in a Las Vegas casino, to a transgender group meeting, to a clothing swap.... I’ve been out alone, with a gg friend, with women I’ve hired to do my makeup and prevent me from going out alone, and (once) with my wife and a couple of friends who don’t know my dressing up was more than that one-time thing. Readers of my blog know my biggest outing ever was a flight from Washington DC to Kansas City, then on to Topeka.
After every trip, I feel two things:
Finding myself back home, or back in my hotel, after spending time out dressed feels GREAT. It's a high like no other.
There's never a "crash." Sometimes I really don't want to change back, and sometimes I can't imagine ever changing back. Sometimes, I'm ready to change back right away. Sometimes, I don't even think about it ~ I just kick off my heels and pull off my wig and start my... I'm not sure what to call it. I like "transformation" when I change to a female. It has a hint of something positive, like a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly. It has a hint of something magical, like a wizard transforming into a graceful animal. I can't use that word for going drab. Revert, maybe.
...I just kick off my heels and pull off my wig and start my reversion to male mode.
But I ALWAYS feel great. Perhaps if I had a bad experience out I'd feel differently, but deep down inside, I don't think so. I hope I don't find out though.
I never regret going out.
I always regret stopping short.
I spent a couple of hours over two nights in a casino. I asked a waitress for drinks, I played different slots. I would have preferred to play craps, but I didn't want to stand around the table in tight quarters with a dozen other people, where I'd be doing a lot of talking.
I went to a clothing swap. Some other t-gurls were there. Fifty or more g-girls were there. One started a conversation and I enjoyed chatting with her. I spoke to the woman doing manicures, and had one done. I could have said to someone picking up an outfit "that's beautiful" or "you'd look great in that" or "I wish that was in MY size".
After the swap, a tire blew out. I had to call Geico to change the tire (I was not about to change a tire in a dress and heels!). I waited in my car instead of walking around the neighborhood a bit (granted, it was 100 degrees out). I just got out of the car when the repair guy arrived and said "thanks for coming out." I could have had a bit of fun, gotten out slowly, walked up close and tried my girl voice, just to see what he'd do, or say.
I've gone to local malls several times. I've spoken to sales associates. I've had my nails done. I should have sat down and had a cup of coffee, or lunch. I should have spoken to other shoppers in the stores.
I've also found clothing I like, but rarely have I tried anything on.
I was in two airports, a restaurant, the rental car counter, and the hotel lobby when I traveled to Topeka. I did no unnecessary talking. In drab, I kid with people suffering along with me on the security line.
I was at the Jon Stewart rally last October. I wanted to walk around, and at the very least, confront people making fun of Christine O'Donnell (my costume du jour).
Each of those experiences has an unspoken ending: I didn't. I should have.
There are some things I should have done but I didn't because I don't have enough experience thinking like a girl. I see a skirt I like, I consider buying it. Or not. It took one of my makeup lady "girlfriends" to hold it up to me to see how it would look. How many times have I seen a woman do that? Hundreds. Why didn't I think that I could do that now? I don't think enough like a girl. I think about all of the things I need to do to pass better. Stand straight. Remember my purse. Smile at women. Avoid smiling at men. Take smaller steps. Don’t touch my face or lick my lips. Sit right!
There are other things that I know I can do, but I'm not ready. I've never been in the ladies' room. I've never sat down to eat by myself. I've never started a conversation with a stranger, outside of a shop situation.
I should. I don’t need to go outside my comfort zone. I need to expand my comfort zone, until it encompasses the world. I've done a lot ~ there's more to do. And I need to be more comfortable as a woman, so I can forget all of the things I have to think about all the time (stand straight!) and remember all of the things I’ve seen women do and add them to my list of Things I Do Automatically. And if I do them in drab mode, that’s OK. I’d rather do femme things as a male than male things when dressed.
Sometimes, I'm not prepared. Something will happen and I could react as a woman, but I'm not ready and I’m still focusing on maintaining my female persona.
So someone says something to me and I'm not prepared. I respond stupidly or not at all. Sometimes the closest thing to an appropriate response I can achieve is to smile.
After a patdown at the airport by a female agent, a man walked up and said “what do I have to do to get her to do that?” My answer: I smiled. I could have said something. If he knew, well, he had a reason to say something. If he didn’t, what could happen? I’m surrounded by security people. I’m safer than the President. I didn’t. I should have.
My former manager has a little magnetic sign on her office door. "Destined to be an old woman with no regrets." Alas, that isn’t to be my destiny.
My goal is to go out once and come home with no regrets.
That's real euphoria.