My wife was returning home from her extra two months down under (she’s from Australia and we own a decent place there, and she stays longer to have extra time with family and friends). My plan was to get one last Dee day in, then clean up and pick her up from the airport.
My first stop was a local LGBT bar called Rehab, located in the Grove area of St. Louis. I wanted to discuss with the management about possibly having a farewell shindig for the St. Louis Gender Foundation. We were closing our corporate entity and thinking of ways to spend our residual bank balance before shutting the books on the corporation (in the end, we chose to do something different).
After meeting with the bar manager, I received a phone call from my wife. She had somehow managed to ignore the change of gate announcement at the LA Airport, so she missed her planned flight. Fortunately, she was able to get a replacement flight arriving a couple hours later than originally planned. With the extra time, I changed my plans. I would do some retail therapy, then go home and change before picking her up at the airport.
I drove to West County Mall and hit the food court for lunch. A gyro sounded good so I ordered one. The local nine (the Cardinals) were playing a day game, so I watched it on my tablet while swapping texts with Ms. Dee-ism, who was also watching the game. As an aside, I met a group of former co-workers the next day, at the same food court, and ordered another gyro, but the second time as boy me.
I had been thinking about getting a hat. The wife of one of my tennis buddies had worn one to a party we were both at and I liked the look. At H&M they had several on sale, and I tried a couple on and took pictures to share with Ms. Dee-ism to get her opinions. We agreed on the tan straw hat with the black band, and it’s become a part of my look as of late.
I also went to Akira and tried on a mesh see-through bodysuit. I tried it on with several combinations, including a black skirt with a rectangular silver ornament on the front. Unfortunately, the ornament, in my opinion, tended to look like a body part most women don’t have, so I passed on the skirt and the bodysuit (and by passing on the bodysuit I mean I went back 24 hours later in guy mode to buy it, although I have yet to figure out the right combination to actually wear it).
After Akira, I headed home, to clean up before getting my wife. My freedom to dress as often as I liked had come to an end, but it was nice while it lasted (the one upside to having an absent spouse).