URNotAlone

Baby steps

November 4th, 2009 12:00 am MST

As I mentioned in my earlier journal posting, I have been dressing for a long time but am mostly in the closet.  By that I mean I have not only not come out to anyone in my non-Kris life, but it also means I do not go out as Kris.  And there is some history there.

Years ago, when I was starting out, I would carry Kris' things with me on business trips if travelling by car (still do).  I tried going out a few times.  Once I was in a convenience store and bought something--a bottle of water or something--and it went fine.  But once I stopped to get some cigarettes in the c-store at a service station and the teenaged girl asked me for ID.  Now, I look well over the legal age to purchase tobacco, so I assumed she was just trying to shame me into showing her my driver's license--with its very male photo.  I just turned and got back into the car--and never went out again.

But the new "me" wants out.  I have purchased a lot of new clothing in the last year:  several pair of shoes, several pair of slacks, some sweaters and so on.  And I am pretty satisfied with my make-up technique.  So I have been itching to go out.

Today after work I came home and got a little dolled up.  Not terribly, but nicely:  a red mock-turtleneck sweater, some nicely fitting black slacks, my new black pumps--and all the other stuff, too, including nighttime eye shadow and even earrings,  After working online and paying bills, I thought, "What the heck"--so I packed my handbag with comb and lipstick and decided to go.

But how?  Where?  The "how" is made problematical by the fact that I live in a condo:  one never knows whom one will meet in the common area or on the elevator, and I am not ready to introduce Kris to the neighbors.  So I put the pumps and wig into a bag, tossed a big jacket on, zipped it up and away I went!  And all for nothing:  I met nobody.  I could have walked naked down to the garage tonight.

Now, where?  Well, I needed a few things.  I needed to go to the ATM--but first, I needed some cigarettes to help calm me down.  Now, this was quite a challenge.  Remember the last time?  And where?  This time I'm in my own neighborhood in my own town;  the last thing I needed to do is meet an acquaintance.  So the supermarket was out.  And I didn't need some teenagers in the 7-11 eyeballing me, either.  So I went into a liquor store where I never go.  I waited until one customer came out before getting out of the car.  Asking for the cigarettes in my softest voice was terrifying, but it worked:  the clerk got them for me, made change and said "Thank you."  We even made eye contact.  Did he "make" me?  I don't know--but the best part is, I don't care.

Then to the ATM.  My greatest concern in going out--one other beginners should consider--is that women won't go unescorted to places a man would not think twice about going to.  So I chose an ATM in a busy, well-lighted place I have gone before and seen other women going into.  And it was not too late at night, only 7:30.  And the best thing that happened?  A young man came into the shelter where the ATM is located, glanced at me--and went on about his business.  He didn't start or stare or anything else!

A digression.  When I used to go out years ago I used to drive around and see if anyone looked at me.  Many did, but they looked briefly and looked away.  I was disappointed:  I was hoping someone would check me out.  I never realized the real compliment to my transition to Kris is that I did not stand out or deserve a second look--just another middle-aged woman in her car.

Anyway, all set--NOW where?  So I drove downtown.  I went up and down one of the shopping streets to see if there was any activity, and there was:  the stores were open and shoppers were strolling.  So I parked and joined the crowd.  I did not make eye contact here but concentrated on walking carefully, not falling off my heels, not striding too long, not doing anything too overtly mannish.  And again, no stares, no second looks.  The only hitch was when the teenager in the parking-lot booth looked twice when asking me for my fee--or at least I thought she did.

And off to home.  I was ready to take off the wig and the pumps and put on the shoes and jacket, but decided to try it.  And so I did.  Same as before:  I could have been nude for all the attention I got.  And home.

The moral of this story?  Baby steps.  First just dressing;  then getting breastforms (foam ones, at first);  then a wig;  then makeup;  then clothing.  Next on the agenda are boots and jeans--both of which are on order and du in next week.  After that?  Who knows?  Tune in for the next installment!