As I explained last week, my wife, her sisters, and my cousin made an overnight trip to a nearby outdoor spa, so their time to play became my time to play. As they weren’t returning home until sometime in the afternoon, I had enough of a time window to have a second day out, this time to another area of Melbourne.
My destination today was another Dangerfield store; one I’ve visited in both boy and girl modes. A few years ago, boy me started riding my bike to this area. I’d like up my bike and browse the Dangerfield store and multiple thrift stores (including a Savers) in the area. The friendly SAs at the store came to know me. Earlier this year I did the boy bike thing, and the SA, Meara, remembered me. I did my normal browsing, noted some items for future reference, and promised (hoped) to return at some point.
And today was that some point.
I wore a Princess Highway dress I bought last year, perhaps at that store (I can’t remember, and I visit multiple stores–there are five I’ve been to). Over the dress I wore a Dangerfield cardigan, and I carry my Dangerfield shopping bag (I’m a bag lady). Instead of a nighttime outfit this time, I was carrying a drab outfit for leaving and returning to our apartment.
As I also noted last week, my niece now lives next door to us. That makes leaving and returning a bit more difficult. Today’s plan was to dress and do my makeup and then wear a man’s shirt and shorts over the dress. Once out the door and into the alley about 50 yards away, I took off the shirt and shorts and donned my wig. Not exactly Superman’s phone booth, but you do what you have to do.
As usual, I walk to the train station, take a selfie or two, and hop on the train. This trip involves a change, but I’ve done the trip before, so I know where to change trains. About a half hour and one change later, I’m at the Dangerfield store, and Meara greets me. I make the rounds, spotting things I like, and find a dressing room.
As always, some things fit and/or work, and others don’t. Sometimes I’m surprised that something I see actually looks good on me. I take pictures, and text them to Ms. Dee-ism for a second opinion. Sometimes we agree, sometimes not, but always fun to get the second opinion (and to get the affirmation that a longtime friend likes seeing me as Dee).
I found the colourful top (I had previously spotted it) and tried it on. I own several black skirts that will go with it. I also had eyed the blue bikini on my previous visit, and it was a must to try on. After trying it on, it was a must to buy, along with the top. After a couple of hours, and mindful I needed to get home before my wife and cousin did, I headed to the train for the trip home. Between getting off the train and getting home, I took off the wig, removed the makeup, and put the shirt and shorts over the dress, back to drab for the return. My niece wasn’t out, so the coast was clear anyway, but always trying to be safe.
A week later, it was a reasonably warm and sunny day. My wife went out, so I stuffed my new bikini, my wig, hat, and minimal makeup into my backpack, and boy me headed out on my bike to a neighboring beach town about five miles away. Once there, lock the bike, and head into a unisex restroom, this one with a convenient table for changing infants. Pull the girl stuff out of the backpack, add makeup and lipstick, and head to the beach. My plan was to sit on the beach, but I found a bench next to the beach instead. The bench made for a good stand for my phone to take pictures and was more comfortable with less sand. I spent about an hour doing my math puzzles, enjoying wearing my new cute bikini, and then had to clean up and head home.
So far, ten weeks here, three days out. Not the ratio I prefer, but three days is better than no days. I’m not sure I’ll have another chance before I leave in two weeks, but with my wife staying down under until mid-June, I’ll have the chance to make up for lost opportunities once I return in early April. That is definitely something to look forward to.
2 Responses
I was wondering how you explain your “tan lines”. That’s something I worry about. I don’t mind my bikini bottom lines, rather enjoy them, but worry about too obvious upper bikini tan lines, so I limit my upper exposure to sun. Still get minimal lines.
I don’t spend that much time out in a bikini top to generally have to worry about it. I’d kind of like to have that problem. If push comes to shove, I’d blame it on my tri-suits, but I don’t think people notice.
I mostly have a tennis tan, with lines on my arm from t-shirts and my legs from shorts. Occasionally I’ll run with my shirt off to even out the lines up top, but already having a couple of small melanomas removed, I don’t do that very often.
I’m also pretty much in the IDGAF mode these days, so tan lines wouldn’t stress me too much.