Last year, at the urging of my GG friend Michelle, I went wig shopping at a Merle Norman store owned by her friend Sabrina. That story was told in “Wigging Out“.
I love my new wig, but I also wanted my old one washed and “refreshed”, so a couple of weeks after buying the new one, I dropped off my old one with Sabrina and Vicky, to let them do their magic.
Well, one month became three and soon six, and with my time away in Australia, I hadn’t forgotten about my wig, but I hadn’t retrieved it either. I had a free Saturday afternoon in mid April to dress, so I decided it was a good opportunity to pick it up. I called a couple of days prior to see if the time was good for them, expecting to have to explain who I was and why I was calling.
To my surprise, Sabrina almost instantly recognized me and began apologizing for the delay. I emphasized no apology was needed, and we set an appointment for 1:30 on Saturday.
I wore my maroon cold shoulder top with maroon and black checkered pants, and as it was somewhat cool, my black leather jacket, but with open toed shoes to show off my painted nails. It was also the debut for the new mauve purse I had found at Plato’s Closet a couple of weeks prior in boy mode. When I arrived, Vicki welcomed me while Sabrina cut the hair of one of her customers. They had washed and curled my wig, but it was still drying, so I needed to wait.
While I was waiting, we began talking about a business opportunity for Sabrina’s business. Long story short, I offered to do some accounting analysis for Sabrina’s business, and Vicki and I spent the next hour downloading various bank and sales data for the business. In the interim, my wig dried and I tried it on, and loved the curls, as it gave me a different look.
By the time Vicki and I were done downloading the financial information, Sabrina was finished with her customers and the shop closed (they close at 3 PM on Saturdays). I was the last customer left and we were discussing a number of subjects, when Sabrina interjected, “I’m Brendan’s mom.”
I quickly figured out who Brendan was–one of the players I coached at the high school where I coach. Brendan spent a couple of years as a Junior varsity player (and a third year on varsity), so over the time Brendan and I spent a fair amount of time together. In short, Sabrina knew me from my guy role–why when I called she knew who I was.
Sabrina then added that she, like a doctor, kept secrets to herself, but I wasn’t really worried about her knowing. I’ve become a lot more sanguine about it (plus I have actually met a dad of another player while as Dee, a former date of my GG friend Michelle). Going out has risks of being found out, but I have found that the more people know, they don’t actually care.
The more people who know, the less the burden of keeping the secret.
The next day, Sun-Dee morning, I had an intermediate triathlon at a local university. I originally signed up for it in 2020, but because of Covid and other factors, it wasn’t held until earlier this year, a three year holding pattern. The temperature at the start was in the lower 40’s, a bit brisk when all you are wearing is a lycra trisuit. While waiting to start the swim, one other participant complimented me on my painted toes. Fortunately, the swim was in an indoor heated pool, but after completing the swim and heading outside into the chill it was a big shock to the system. It took longer to just get my bike cleats on, as well as a jacket and gloves (and I had to stop during my ride to zip the jacket). Despite the cold, and not feeling my feet for the first half of the four mile run, I had a decent time.
Michelle had the afternoon free, so I drove to her house, got my girl on, and we headed to Clothes Mentor, an upscale thrift store. I wore the same cold shoulder top, but this time with my new brown fake leather skirt and my long black boots and patterned tights. Michelle and I had been there together once before, and she eagerly wanted to go again. We arrived and Michelle went to town. She found lots of things to try on, and I found a fair number of dresses.
We had adjacent dressing rooms. Our routine is to try things on, pop out of our rooms, compare notes, then try on something else. Michelle was on a roll and had a lot more things to try on than me, so after a while I just sat and commented. I ended up with four dresses, while Michelle ended up with about twenty-five items; tops, bottoms, and accessories.
Following our shopping spree, we stopped at Hooters for our normal drink and a plate of shared nachos. It’s what we do.
My suggestions so you can Dee-It-Yourself for a better and a happier life
My first suggestion: Lose the guilt.
As a long time reader of crossdresser blogs and forums, a common theme is the guilt (or shame) that members of our community feel. For one, Kan-Dee has written chapter and verse regarding her (losing) battle with the guilt, until she finally accepted who she was.
I was lucky. When I was around seventeen–and having known I was interested in crossdressing for at least ten years–I realized being a crossdresser was just who I was. In the pre-internet days, I found library books and learned I was far from alone in my desires. I wasn’t the only “wierdo” out there who wanted to dress like a girl. I also knew dressing was as far as I went; no further gender dysphoria (although I’m sure that term was not in use in the late 1970’s).
We are still not alone. A Gallup survey in 2021 showed that .6% of the US adult population self-reported as transgender. According to the 2020 census, there were about 258 million adults in the US. Applying the .6% ratio, about 1,548,000 adults in the US consider themselves to be transgender. If you assume a 50/50 split between males and females, that suggests about 775,000 adults assumed male at birth in the US alone (not to mention all other nations) fall into the transgender spectrum. Yes, each of us has a lot of company.
Also, none of us chose to be transgender. I’m a long-time fan of sex advice columnist Dan Savage and read his columns and listen to his podcasts. He often says, and I agree completely from my experience, “You don’t choose your kinks. Your kinks choose you.” I don’t know why at seven years old I wanted to try on a dress; almost sixty years later I still don’t know why, but I do.
I firmly believe that every guy has a “kink”. We are just wired that way. If it wasn’t crossdressing, it would be something else–something that chose us, not the other way around.
The desire to present female is something I can’t explain, but it is a core part of me.
I learned to accept that–and lose the guilt–a LONG time ago. I suggest you do the same.