Page Two
10 June '98
Since we are approaching summer, I have thought again about wearing the summer dress I bought back in the gloomy days of February. The only problem with that dress is that it is cut quite low at the back and the sleeves are high. Having fairly hairy arms and too much hair on my back would have ruled out wearing that dress in public. I tried trimming the hairs on my arms a little, but it still didn't look right. So I took the bull by the horns today and shaved my arms completely! It is actually not that noticeable and feels quite good. Best of all, it really helps give my arms a much more believable feminine look. There is the added advantage that there is no longer any demarcation line between my hands (which I started shaving, on a regular basis, before Christmas) and the rest of my arms. Also the fact that I have developed a slight suntan, helps make the lack of hair less obvious.
12 June '98
I would love to ask Jill what she really though about what I am doing. Sure enough she noticed that I had shaved my arms, and all she said was "Do you have to shave them everyday to keep them that smooth?" "in for a penny, in for a pound" I thought, and had my first attempt at shaving my back. Being a contortionist would definitely help. For those of you who have not tried it, it is not easy! Most of the time you can't really see what you are doing - even with the help of mirrors. So you have to do it by feel. I am amazed I didn't cut myself to shreds. After all of the twisting and stretching my upper body into un-natural shapes, the final results were questionable. I can't see how good a job I've done. My guess is that it's probably good enough for wearing the dress, but may not stand up to close inspection. I wonder how often I will need to shave my back? Will the hairs grow again as quickly as those on my face? I'll let you know.
Update: Aug '98
It would appear that the hairs on my arms and back grow faster than I'd hoped. About every second day I need to give them both a shave. You know, with this having to shave my face, legs, hands, arms and back - I'm spending inordinate amounts of time in the shower. This could be costing me a lot of money in increased water heating bills... never though of that before.
Additional Update: Sep 98
Jill finally told me what she thought about all of the shaving... and much as I suspected, she doesn't like it. She never mentioned the fact before I shaved, but now apparently she really likes hairy men. She told me that even if I wasn't embarrassed by being clean shaven, she was. What prompted it was a visit to a friend's house where we went swimming. She thought I looked like a pre-pubescent boy, not a nearly 40-year-old man. My attitude was "Sorry you don't like it, but its staying that way for the foreseeable future".
23 June '98
As you've probably noticed from my "Nail" photos, I have a favourite watch and diamond (Zirconium) ring I like to wear. I've taken to wearing them in the car on the way to and from work each day. (I love the way the light catches the stones). Anyway, this evening I remembered in advance to take off the ring before I pulled into the drive-way, and tucked it away in its hiding place. Then I parked the car and walked into the house. I chatted with Jill for a couple of minutes before going upstairs to the bedroom to change out of my work clothes, and to my shock and horror, I was still wearing the Cathy Ireland watch! I was incredulous that she never noticed _ I would have had a very difficult time trying to explain my way out of that one!
12 July '98
Out into the Light...
My main goal for this trip to New York was to be able to take some photos outside in daylight. Rationally or irrationally, I was very nervous about going out into a public place en femme in the 'harsh light of day'. And actually I came really close to losing my nerve and not doing it. But in the end it was the prospect of not getting the opportunity again, for perhaps a whole year, that gave me the extra push I needed.
Everything was in place. I had been shaving my arms, legs and shoulders, I had my toe-nails painted. I had a summer dress I had bought back in the early spring with just this occasion in mind, and I had my new blue sandals.
The first day I was able to dress and go out was not the best from the stand point of taking photos. It was overcast and getting into late afternoon, and the light was fading. But I was determined to go for it. Putting on my make-up was not a problem. I deliberately went easy on the eye shadow, and toned down the blush. I also used eye liner only half way across underneath my eyes. I didn't want to look like I was heading out to a formal event in full evening make-up. The part of the whole process which had me feeling uneasy, was how to blend facial make-up into natural skin colour. I didn't really want to have to put foundation all over my chest. So, I did as good a job as I could under the artificial light in the bathroom, knowing full well everything was going to look very different in the natural light outside. Oh well, since I didn't have anyone to ask how my make-up looked, I just had to go with my best judgment.
Mid-town Manhattan on a Sunday afternoon is crowded with tourists. My hotel was ten blocks south of Central Park (the only place I could think of where I could go to take photos), so there was no way to avoid being out in the crowds. Talk about jumping in the deep end! I had the added 'danger' that there were quite a number of people who knew me and I was not too confident in Jennie being totally unrecognizable as my male self. To help in this respect I had bought a pair of glasses. They are reading glasses, the type you can buy at the drug store. These particular ones are bi-focals, so the main part of the "glass" is not a lens at all - does not distort what I see through them. It took a bit of getting used to, seeing myself wearing glasses, but I felt much more confident that I would not be recognized with the glasses on. No more procrastinating… it was time to go out.
I went through the usual nervousness in calling the elevator, and after two cars arrived with people in them, the third was empty, so down I went. My heart was racing, and my mouth was parched dry. But I was not going to allow myself to turn around at this stage. I didn't see anyone I knew, and all of a sudden I was out into the day light. I walked with my best feminine walk and headed up Broadway towards the park. It took a while for me to relax and gain some measure of confidence. Inwardly I was still very nervous and chanting my walking mantra "Elbows in, hips forward, toes first." I found that stopping every so often to look in a shop window gave me time to breathe and compose myself. It also allowed me to turn my back on the world, and become less noticeable - or so I wanted to believe.
 
I attracted my fair share of looks from passers by - almost exclusively from women. Some of them, I could tell, were not quite sure; others were in no doubt as to what they were looking at. But New Yorkers seem to be a very tolerant lot, because I didn't see anyone overtly start giggling or smirking. And I didn't hear any derogatory comments - which would have been more difficult for me to cope with psychologically. After what seemed like a long time I arrived at the Columbus Circle entrance to the park. There were a lot of people about but unfortunately, not too many places where I could set up my mini tripod. I found a bench to sit on so that I could take the camera out of my bag. Although there were a number of tourists with little cameras, no one else had a tripod, and setting that up attracted way more attention than I felt comfortable with. But what else could I do, my whole purpose for being there was to take photos. As discretely as I could, I took some shots using the self timer. Then I headed into the park in search of another suitable place for a "Photo Op' as the politicians would call it.
 
Several times I got myself into a nerve wracking situation where I felt I was running the gauntlet. The park benches were crowded and all faced a little lake. By walking along the path between the benches and the lake, the only thing for the people sitting there to look at was me. It was like doing a solo part in a play. As I walked past all of these people, mustering as much confidence as I could, I began to wonder what I was doing out here in public, dressed as a woman, and most likely being ridiculed by all these strangers. What was I thinking of? How could I ever expect to pass as a woman, all 6' and 163lbs of me? Self doubt is a powerful thing, but then so is ego. And when I had run the gauntlet and, as best as I could tell, come out the other end unscathed, my confidence returned in a rush. But it was beginning to get dark and I decided to quit while I was ahead and return to the safety of my hotel room.
One thing I had not given any thought to was the fact that I had never walked more than a couple of hundred yards in the new blue sandals before. After an hour of constant walking and standing, my poor feet hurt, and I had the prospect of another ten blocks ahead of me. I didn't know if I would be able to maintain the necessary composure and female walk when I was in agony. Short of taking my shoes off, I didn't have much choice. (In other, cleaner, cities I may have seriously considered walking bare foot, but somehow in New York the idea was not even an option). I took it slowly and made it back in one piece, kicking off my shoes as soon as I walked in the door. Fortunately, the only place on my foot where there was any real damage was pretty specific to the blue sandals. My sneakers didn't put any pressure on that spot, so I could walk normally en homme. It had been quite an adventure, and I wondered why I had been so nervous before. After viewing the photos I'd taken, I knew I would have to make a second outing - in better light - and with different shoes!
I got my chance a week later. Essentially everything was the same except that I wore some flat heeled white summer shoes instead of the sandals. Walking in them was more comfortable, but without the raised heel, I found it more difficult to maintain a feminine walk. (For me the walk comes a lot more naturally when I'm in heels… I wonder why that is?) I also decided to wear a belt with the dress. My waist needs all the help it can get and I felt I looked a bit "frumpy" in the earlier photos without something to rein it in, so to speak. I essentially covered the same path as before up to the park. Though this time my confidence was better. I wondered if my ability to pass was enhanced by the fact that in flats, I was not so tall as before. I ended up in front of the Plaza hotel and thought a photo with the fountain in the background would be nice. The problem was that there was nowhere to put set my camera. If I wanted that photo, there was no alternative but to ask someone to take it for me. I thought my chances would be best if it was someone a lot older. But the risk there was that the photo may not come out too well, and besides, there wasn't anyone fitting that description around. In the end I spotted my photographer, a teenage girl, aimlessly pacing up and down, apparently waiting for someone. I approached her and asked in my best female voice if she could take a photo of me in front of the fountain. I don't think for one moment that there was any doubt in her mind as to what I was, but she was very gracious and happily took the photo without making any comments that suggested what she really thought. I thanked her and moved on. I knew after that encounter that I had a long way to go before I could feel comfortable in a social situation. Since my feet didn't hurt, I took my time making my way back to the hotel, and savoured the enjoyment of being out and about en femme. By the time I got back to the hotel, again without incident, my confidence level was high, and it was time to eat. Dare I? Dare I go out and get something while dressed, and not just a take-away? If I didn't do it there and then, it may be a very long time before I got the chance (or the courage) to do it again. So, I made up my mind and knew where to go.
15 August '98
On a whim, I went into a local discount store (Ross) at the weekend and had the courage to browse the dress racks while en homme. As far as I could tell, none of the women there even batted an eyelid over the fact that there was a man in their midst. I came across a great dress in which to go dancing, and I bought it without even trying it on. I waited patiently all weekend for a chance to try it on and finally got the opportunity when my wife went grocery shopping. Fortunately the dress seems to fit, though I can't wear my Veronica hip pads under it since the legs of the Veronica are just a little too long. But that's OK.
It's significantly shorter than any other dresses I have, so it shows off my legs nicely, but I wonder if it is a little too "young" for a girl fast approaching her forties? I can't wait to take some photos of me wearing it, but I'd have to get fully dressed to get the full effect, and who knows when I'll get the opportunity to do that?
9 September '98
For the first time in a while, I had a session with our councilor by myself - Jill was out of town. Right from the start I was thinking of steering the conversation towards my expression of my feminine side. I was not at all sure how far I would go, and I was understandably nervous about coming out completely. But, on the other hand, if the conversation went in that direction and the councilor seemed receptive and, above all, sympathetic, then maybe I would tell the full extent of what has been going on for the past year of my life. I also knew that if I did tell all and asked the councilor not to mention it to Jill, she would have respected my wishes - even though it would make certain aspects of her job very difficult.
Well, we skirted the subject a number of times, with phrases such as "feminine side", "shaving legs", "femininity", "pierced ears" and "bi-gendered" coming up. At one point I was on the verge of saying that I had taken things further than the expressions that Jill had told her about. I really did want to tell her, tell someone, but found myself hesitating on the brink. In the end I shied away from a 'full confession'. Something about "not being able to put Genies back in bottles" was swirling around in my head. and, to be honest, I just chickened out. If I can't bring myself to do this when there are just the two of us, how less likely am I to do it when Jill is there?
21 September '98
I was on a week-long business trip to Europe and I thought seriously about taking some femme clothes with me so that I could dress. However, the thought of going through customs and the possibility, no matter how remote, of being singled out for a baggage inspection, made me decide not to take anything. I was disappointed at the prospect of missing an opportunity like this. So, at the last minute, I made room in my suitcase and threw in my make-up, a bra and my wig. At least I could practice my make-up, something I never get the opportunity to do at home. So there I was in my hotel room, all made up an no where to go (Not to mention that I had no femme clothes in which to go!) Then it occurred to me that jeans and a tee-shirt are fairly uni-sex, especially with a lightweight rain jacket over the top. So I carefully arranged some socks to pad my bra, got dressed and looked at myself I the mirror. Not exactly what I would have called sexy, but not too bad. I did think that the make-up was perhaps a little over done for such casual clothes, but I had the same problem when I wanted to go our in daylight back in the summer. How do you apply enough make-up to cover the beard shadow and yet still make it look natural? I thought about leaving the hotel, and maybe just walking around the block. But without my more feminine clothes, I didn't feel as confident as I needed to. So I stayed in my room and watched TV.
20 October '98
At the weekend Jill and I were getting ready to go out to a friend's house and I had forgotten that I still had my favourite femme CZ ring in my pocket. My wife wanted me to carry her small wallet/purse in my pocket, and before I could foresee the possible consequences she had put her hand in my pocket... she felt the ring and pulled it out. My heart sank to my boots instantly. She just stood and stared at it for several seconds and then looked at me with a very sad face. I felt terrible, mostly for her, but also for myself. I know her first thought was that it belonged to some other woman, but that thought was only fleeting, because I think she knows better. "Is this yours?" she asked, and I said it was. There was a long moment of silence then she surprised me by handing it back to me and simply saying that I would have to talk about it in our counceling session this week. I was quietly swearing to myself about being so stupid by not putting the ring away before the weekend. I felt sorry for Jill, and admired her for not going to pieces. I know that only six months ago, if this had happened then, I would have been in the dog-house for weeks and she would have been in tears for days. Later in the evening she said she wanted me to go to our weekly counceling session by myself. She thought it would work better if I explained what was going on to the councilor first, then the two of us could better explain it to her later. And that was pretty much the end of that. I didn't bring it up again and neither did she.
The next morning everything was fairly normal, no anguished looks, no being quiet and pensive. Now all I have to do is worry about how things will transpire at the next counceling session. I think the "genie is out of the bottle" and there's no going back, for better or worse.
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