I left work at 11:30. I was nervous of course, but very excited and very curious about what I would look like "en femme".

When I arrived, I didn't hesitate about going in. I was confident that at noon I would be the only customer. However, there was another man (in men's clothing) talking to the owner. That made me a little nervous, until she introduced him by his femme name. Phew, I thought, at least he won't be looking at me and thinking derogatory thoughts.

The owner, whose name was Carla, didn't waste time in getting started. My nervousness left me and I was eager to start the transformation. She had asked me to bring everything I had, which was practically nothing: the black two-inch heels, my stirrup stretch pants and some sock-length nylons. Carla made me feel very much at ease, and took me into the boutique where she selected some suitable clothes; a black mini-skirt, and a long sleeved white blouse with black trim. Then she added a size 40 bra and a pair of sheer black nylons (which I had to buy of course). To complete the outfit, she added a set of silicone breast-forms.

I was definitely enjoying myself now. I had never worn full length nylons before and it was an experience putting them on. I managed the bra without difficulty (I'd had practiced with that item before). But the breast-forms were a new experience. I was really surprised at how real they felt. And after a few seconds, once they had warmed up, they felt very comfortable indeed. Carla had a good eye because all of the clothing fitted my 5' 11" frame very well. I slipped on my high heels and looked at myself in the mirror. "Not too bad, but my shoulders look awfully wide, and there still the same old familiar head to top it all off". At that point I was beginning to wonder if any amount of makeup and a wig could change all that.

Carla lead me through to the area where she would complete the transformation. The other person was still around, and I felt a little embarrassed at being seen in this "half transformed" state. But I was too excited to let it bother me all that much.

So now the magic part started. Being somewhat analytical, I thought I should pay close attention to the technique and the different stages so that I could recreate the look myself. I got as far as the foundation, and got totally absorbed in watching Carla at work, and paid no attention to how she was expertly applying the makeup. (I had some concern that she would over do it, and it would look like theatrical makeup, or worse still, like Tammy Faye Baker! But I was very happy to see that Carla was applying the make-up sparingly, without spoiling the effect.) Everything was coming along nicely. Having my eyes made up was the toughest part for me. Partly because I'm not used to someone putting things so close to my eyes; and partly because the makeup felt heavy and sticky (compared to having no eye make up at all). Also, I didn't make things easy for Carla because I was trying to look in the mirror while she applied the mascara.

The final two steps were the lipstick and the wig. She asked me to close my eyes and not open them again until she was finished. I was very tempted to cheat, but resisted, savouring the anticipation of my first glimpse of me as a woman, something I had dreamed about for so long.

I felt the wig going on and was surprised at how tight the headband was - don't want it falling off, do we? Carla had mentioned that she thought I was a definitely a blonde, but I hadn't seen the wig she'd put on. She spent a minute or so brushing the hair and when it was the way she wanted it, she unceremoniously clipped some large white earrings on.

Now the transformation was complete.

Carla turned the chair around to face a large mirror, and told me to open my eyes.

It's hard to describe my initial thoughts. There was this woman staring back at me in the mirror. It was me, yet it wasn't me. After 39 years of looking in mirrors and seeing that old familiar face, this was a bit disorienting. A few seconds later I smiled, and sure enough, the woman in the mirror smiled too. My next thought was that I needed to have my dentist whiten my teeth, The make-up made them look too yellow. Enough of the self criticism, I thought, do I look good? Do I look convincingly feminine? As if reading my thoughts, Carla commented on how good I looked and said she thought I was ready to go "out". "Not on your life!" I thought to myself, "that won't be for a long time - if ever".

I got out of the chair and followed Carla to a long mirror to get my first view of the whole me. I've always thought my legs were too skinny, and to me they looked too 'defined' to be truly feminine. But I was very pleased with the overall appearance. I'd looked at a lot of photos of other CD's on the Internet, and it was easy for me to get an instant reading on who looked female and who, despite their best efforts, still looked male. What I realized looking at myself was that I found it very difficult to be an impartial observer. I really couldn't tell how feminine I looked. I wanted to believe that Jennie looked the part, but it was still the male me inside, looking out.

Carla then had me sit and pose while she took a Polaroid shot of Jennie. This photo, though not the greatest, will always have special meaning for me. I had brought along my own digital camera, and asked Carla if she would mind taking a few shots with that. She deferred to the other person, who she labeled as the "photographer". As it turned out, his ability with the camera was not great and I was bitterly disappointed with the results. Oh well, now I have an excuse to go back for another makeover.

After that, Carla just let me wander around her salon and club. It was well equipped with full length mirrors and I could watch myself go by with my best feminine walk. That's one area where I think I do quite well. The upper body movements and posture definitely need a lot of work. But that will come with practice. I really enjoyed that half hour, just browsing around en femme, looking in the mirror much more often than I ever would in my normal attire. Several people came and went during that time. I wished I'd had the courage to be overt, and just stroll by them. But I kept my distance and found it hard to look directly at them. Self confidence when dressed is going to be something that, for me, will take a while - a long while.

All too soon I had to get back to work, and so began the sad process of 'un-transforming'. The first thing to go was the wig, and I saw myself in the mirror with my own short masculine hair and still the full make-up. For the first time I had the impression of myself as one of those slightly pitiful drag queens. I didn't want to look at myself again until I had started washing all the make-up off. I washed twice - just to make sure that there was no trace of the make-up left, and in a way I was relieved to see the old me looking back. I now knew I was able to transform into a woman and then transform back. I always wanted the best of both worlds, have my cake and eat it too. Maybe crossdressing was going to be my way to do that.

As I paid Carla and started to walk out, she called after me, "Don't be a stranger Jennie! Come back soon." I turned and smiled and called back that I wouldn't be a stranger - I'd definitely see her soon.

Carla has really given me something to think about. If I'd looked awful as a woman, I seriously think I would have been dejected enough that I may have given up any notion of crossdressing for a long time. But I was definitely pleased with the way I looked and now will have to contend with the fact that my desire to continue cross dressing has only been enhanced.