I don’t mean the car. I did that too, and I pick it up tomorrow. That excitement is still to come.
No, I mean that last night I went to a Fringe Festival event in Northbridge and I went out of my way to be daring. I went dressed as I thought appropriate for the performance. It was a show called Burlezque, a troupe of seven lesbian women performing burlesque on a small stage in a tent, so it was quite an intimate setting. I was seven rows back. It was kind of high class strip-tease for women, very very good. I got tired of all the screaming young women in the audience, though.
I threw caution to the wind and went out dressed out-rageously! I was dressed as a woman, but a very, um, daring woman. I took a couple of very unflattering photos but I dare not post them. Maybe….
And, I took the train into Perth and home again, so I was exposed, unprotected. Yeaaah. But I might as well have been the businessman on his way home from a banking meeting for all anyone cared. I expected trouble from young guys, but nope, nothing. Didn’t even look at me. Bagus!
What amazed me was how, in the city, nobody stared, nobody laughed, no-one pointed. Imagine yourself walking naked in public through crowds. You’d expect stares, yes? I wasn’t naked, but I expected stares and hard looks, yet no-one gave me a second glance. It was a bit disappointing in a way.
However, while walking along William Street, from having a glass of sparkly brut at the Moon LGBTQI bar-restaurant, a strange looking woman was walking towards me. She did a double take and touched my arm to stop and talk, which I was very pleased to do. She was quite attractive, but looked a little zany, wearing a top hat with goggles on it and she was covered in more heavy jewellery than I’ve ever seen on anyone. It must have weighed kilos. Anyway, we talked and we actually kissed a couple of times, which was wonderful. She told me her name and to find her on Facebook, which I’ve done and sent a friend request. She lives in that area and it looks as if we might even have a mutual friend. Anyway, it seems I’ve made a new friend. She’s quite attractive to me.
I was also very pleased that on the way home, a young woman sat next to me and talked to me, asking how I felt and so on. I told her what I was doing and why, and she reassured me and was wonderful about it.
I think it’s about time I declared that after a lifetime, 70 years of suppressing my desire to dress as a woman, I’m coming out and doing it now. Nota bene, I’m not gay! I call myself a male lesbian, a male who wants to be a woman but who exclusively loves women. Guys, go away.
Those 70 years have been torture at times. I never went out dressed until 2006 and the Cross Dress for Red Cross fund raising campaign, and the subsequent ones in 2007 and 2008. After that, I had mostly lost my fear, but still only did it occasionally. My beard was my disguise and my armour.
However, I’ve noticed a change in society’s attitudes. The constant LGBTQI publicity has made people much more aware of gender fluidity and diversity. I don’t feel any need any more to be anxious or even to fully hide my maleness. I used to fear being caught in a lie, with some male clue showing through, but not now and no-one bats and eyelid any more. On the contrary, I get smiles and compliments sometimes.
This year I feel I’ve crossed a threshold. I nearly always dress female when I go out now and it feels wrong if I don’t. It’s so easy and natural for me. Strange, so late in my life. Oh, all those wasted years when I had to hide it. Aaaarrrrgh. It was hard.
As well, I’ve always had gynaecomastia, prominent man-boobs. I hated it when I was younger and it caused me terrible embarrassment. Going to the beach was an ordeal. I used to swim with a T-shirt on in an effort to hide my boobs. Unsuccessfully, of course. The benefit, though, is that my skin has not suffered sun damage, especially my complexion. I have the smooth skin women would die for. I have the no-wrinkles gene. I hardly need to do any makeup, actually, just a light liquid toner and nice lipstick. When I’m made up, I look pretty damned pretty, if I say so myself. Too bloody over weight, though, but if I lost too much weight, I would develop loose skin. Hah.
And man-boobs? I’m 24DD in bra size! I can easily find bras in that size, too.
Funny, on three occasions while I was working, in my thirties and forties, my fellow techs said, “Gee Pete, when are you going to start wearing a bra?”
The irony is that I would have loved to wear a bra. I yearned to do it. But I had to keep my deep, dark secret. I couldn’t tell anyone. Especially not Mum! She would have been all over me, trying to show she understood and probably trying to help me dress and do makeup. She wanted to interfere. It was hard, very hard.
The irony is, too, that when I’m dressed and made-up, with my natural hair, when I look in the mirror, there’s Mum looking back at me. All my aunts used to say, “Oh Peter, you look so much like your mother!” As a boy and young man, I hated it! But now I can see it.
But that’s over and I’m here to state that if you meet me, I will probably be dressed as a woman now. My neighbour knows and we have girl-talks. The funny thing is, it used to be almost impossible to find women’s clothes to fit me, but women have, er, grown to Plus Sizes so I have no trouble now. I’ve also completely lost my fear and anxiety when buying female clothes, and I haunt the racks of specials in the larger sizes for bargains. Easy!
So there, it’s out and I feel good about it. At last!!!!!
Oh, the stories I could tell.
As well, how lucky I am to find a partner who is completely with me in this. If I had to hide it from her, it would be intolerable. I’m wearing one of her dresses in the Moon shot above. We can share clothes! I bless my stars and her. Thank you, V! Thank you, thank you.
So finally, I can post this picture:
How about that?
PS: I’m picking up the red Mazda MX-6 tomorrow. I’ll have to dress male, though, unfortunately. My black stick-on long fingernails from last night might give me away, of course… 😉