
Cissy Gets Out
By Cissy
(It's been about a year since my earliest en femme ventures into the
"real world" and even though I'm a little more experienced and a little
less paranoid life as Cissy never ceases to be an adventure)
I spent the day as Cissy yesterday, I’ve been trying to train myself to
feel inconspicuous in real life settings...I just can't spend my whole
femme life in gay bars and the like. Anyway, in addition to wanting to
feel more at ease in the real world the cost of cleaning all of that bar
smoke out of my clothes and hair is getting too high.
It was a great day...
I managed to be ready by 9:00 and that included having to hide out in a
local parking garage to put on make up.
I was going to go to a local forest preserve but they're apparently
closed until 8:00am and I needed a place at 7:30am. I just don't like
going back to the same garage each time as I am planning to try for a
day out each week and I don't want to develop a traceable profile with
the already baffled lot security people.
My first destination was Vicki’s Wig Shop but when I got there she
wasn't open yet...a late start. I actually needed to go to Vicki's
because Gigi, the manicurist, is also a seamstress and had fixed some
outfits that Vicki had very generously given me.
When I to Vicki’s I found Leonard/Leona from the local Tri-ess group was there,
en homme, waiting pensively by the door. I was in good
Christmas cheer so I thought I’d say hello.
“Hi I’m Cissy, I think I remember you from the Be All...”
After all she’s not quite forgettable, in addition to her generally kind
personality she’s a person of ample girth. She once kidded with some of us
about the great number of polyesters that had to die in order to make an
outfit she was wearing. In any event she’s more that slightly larger than a
size 16 and openly vocal about it.
“Uh...yeah”, he said with that ‘go away kid, you bother me’ sound in his
voice, “that’s Leona...I’m Leonard”
“Right”, I said not getting it, “you taught the session on..”
He started waving his hand desperately and gave me a ‘Shut up! You don’t know
me, we never met!’ kind of look. Under his breath so it was only audible to
me he said, “that woman over there don’t know about me...” and then gave me
another ‘now you get it?’ look.
“Oh”, I said quietly with great realization, “I’m sorry...I thought
everybody was “safe” here...”
He just nodded in a way that seem to say...’yeah, well you’re
wrong...keep moving’.
Vicki jumped in to the middle of this. “Oh, Cissy. You know Gigi
finished those dresses. Why don’t you go try them on there in the
back.” It was partly a ‘Hi, nice to see you’ and partly a ‘we better
leave Leonard alone right now’.
Paranoid Manifestations and Coverups
I hugged her and gave her my card which she seemed to appreciate even in the
midst of her Leonard-related stress. Later she told me that her other
assistant is a friend of Nathan’s mother and he didn’t want his “hobby”
getting back to his mother by way of this woman. Out of my friendliness, I
had almost “outed” him. On the other hand though, how did he plan to explain
his standing around looking at wigs and woman’s jewelry while Vicki wrapped
up a bunch of lady’s items he’d purchased.
Oh well, everybody’s entitled to their own paranoid manifestations and
cover ups...that could be my new credo, God knows it’s been part of my
daily life.
I got to work. I had new stuff to try on and there’s nothing I like
better than that.
Vicki had given me some hand-me-downs from some unknown source. There
was a blue beaded cocktail dress (originally very expensive I think) and a
fancy business/evening suit. They were both on the very small side so Gigi
fixed them up for me (I still need help getting in an out of the dress).
She followed me around and kept explaining in broken English the alchemy
required in making the dresses fit my larger-than-the-usual-girl shoulders.
I started by trying on the business suit. Not bad for a hand-me-down.
I went to check myself out in the full length mirror in the front of the shop
and found I had an audience.
In addition to Leonard who hung around conspicuously, Vicki and her
assistant had gone to work on a couple of elderly ladies who took great
interest in my little fashion show. “That’s very nice” , offered one of
them, “you going to a cocktail party...it looks like you should wear it to a
cocktail party...”
“I want to see the TV”, yelled the other with a slightly disoriented
tone.
I thought to myself, “you are seeing a TV, lady”, but I don’t think I
what she had in mind. They both seemed oblivious to the fact that I
wasn't officially a woman, that was okay with me.
Now I wore the blue dress. It took both me and Gigi to force me into it, and
it fit like a glove, literally.
I got ooh’s and ah’s with this dress. “God you have a great figure”,
yelled the now fully prone ‘cocktail party’ lady from under the shampoo
faucet. Leonard, who was still hanging around, had an obvious and
positively stunned reaction. The disoriented lady, now under the dryer, sat
agape completely absorbed in a talk show about cheating husbands.
Of course I do have a great figure unfortunately it isn’t mine, just
cleverly worn underwear...but the dress looked great anyway.. With my
long strawberry slut hair and the right shoes I could get into a lot of
serious trouble with this outfit.
Once the fashion show was over I produced a dress of my own. One that I
had bought in the juniors department of H&M in Stockholm. I always felt it
was a little too long, the Swedish juniors must be taller than the U.S.
juniors. Happily Gigi would remedy the problem and add a waist tie with the
left over hem material...clever woman. So I was all set. I had just one
other piece of business for Vicki, my first good wig.
Until I purchased this wig for my very first public appearance last
February, I had a flame red theatrical wig that would never pass as real
hair. I bought it quickly while under a great deal of anxiety from a helpful
Korean lady in a western suburban wig shop.
"Very Pretty" (add the correct Asian pronunciation), said the Korean
lady, "that one ninety dollar ", she added.
It was pretty. A very passable auburn with some red and frosted
highlights. A little on the long side and maybe a little too voluminous
for my thin face.
"You want to wear this today?" asked Vicki
"Uh, yeah...sure", I said as she took it and headed for a styro head.
Actually, I wasn't sure I wanted to wear it. I was looking very
convincing in my "Beth" wig, (the shoulder length brunette wig that
reminds me of somebody named Beth), it has a “ young suburban mom look”
to it and I knew from experience that Vicki was going to turn the old
wig into something fluffy and too formal for the shopping mall.
Sure enough, the end result of some frantic cutting and spraying was a
lovely but dressy crown of auburn curls, a little shorter than I
expected and way too mature for the jeans and top I was wearing. It
also didn't match my complexion which Vicki quickly changed with some
suntan powder by Mary Kay.
The wig looked good but it needed one of the dresses I tried on earlier
and I wasn't ready to parade around in public looking like I should be
'at a cocktail party'. But I wore it anyway, I didn't want Vicki to
think I didn't appreciate her efforts.
My plan was to do some Christmas shopping downtown, Marshal Fields
actually, so I figured I could wear my coat in the store and that would
balance out the wig. Just before packing up, Vicki showed me my options for
the human hair wigs which I'd been asking about...$300.00 a piece! Dana told
me I could find them on-line for $175.00 so I hesitated even though I dearly
want to replicate my "Beth" wig in real hair.
Finally I was ready to go. Between the tailoring and the wig fixing I
had run up my usual $50.00 tab. Most of my visits there are pretty
profitable for Vicki.
Now it was 2:00pm and I had to run an errand as my male self at 4:30,
that didn't leave much shopping time, so instead of heading downtown, I
headed west for Oakbrook which was much closer to home. One day dream
led to another and I ended up going north to Woodfield after missing
some critical turns.
I had very little time left, but as part of my "training" I insisted
that I take my femme self to a nice and very public store. I parked
outside of the Woodfield Field's (well outside...the closest space was a good
1/8 of mile from the door) and doing my best "girl walk", the subtle suburban
shopper version, I joined the throngs as we poured past the Salvation Army
bell ringers and into the ladies accessories department of Marshall Fields.
My blood pressure and heart rate were definitely up. It was a clear and
fortunately mild case of stage fright. I never really noticed how brightly
lit these stores can be until now. With lighting like this I was certain
that every synthetic auburn strand of my overly perfect coif would read like
red neon. Gratefully, I seemed to be getting by unnoticed.
Now I've been en femme in big department stores before but never in my
home town and never with what I consider to be an extremely mainstream
or possibly even snobby population of shoppers, especially lady the
shoppers. Still, I seemed to be getting by in spite of my paranoia
about the comments of these treacherous upscale shoppers...
"Did you see that Mille?", comments one snobby dowager to another.
"Yes, look at that hair...what's that supposed to be anyway?", shares
the other dowager.
"Must be Halloween or something.", says the first
"Not everybody can be Ru-Paul.", offers the second
"More like Pee-Wee Herman you mean...tee-hee"
The truth of the matter is that I looked a lot like the other shoppers. My
maturish hair style, though not the most popular kind of style ( hair
approximating the "Beth" style was more common), certainly occupied a great
many heads. Even the mismatch between informal clothing and formal hair was
pretty frequent, so I didn't stand out in any grandiose way.
I had originally planned to venture into the mall and buy undergarments
and other things I have trouble buying when en homme but now there
wasn't time. I was in a somewhat elegant store and I felt that I should
purchase something elegant and lady like...so I headed for the Confections
Department.
Ah, and what could be more feminine than fancy expensive chocolates? I
needed to buy some gifts for women friends so this was the perfect
opportunity. Pressing down my "passability" anxiety, I ventured into a
crowd of shoppers engaged in various states of chocolate buying.
As I daintily held and examined little packages of Godiva samplers I
heard....
"Is this any good, this Godiva stuff?", asked a young, pretty and rich
looking brunette woman of her boyfriend.
Naturally, I wanted to respond right away. I tend to be a conversation
joiner and this was a perfect opening. But I hesitated... If only a
sweet alto would pour forth from my lips... however, worried that a
tell-tale baritone would boom out I stayed silent. I looked up a little to
watch the exchange and ended up making eye contact with the couple.
"Is this good? Is this good?", chided the classically tall dark and
handsome boyfriend. "How can any woman" and then he turned to make his
point to me, a woman who would obviously back up his argument, "not know
about delicious chocolate?" and then he continued lock his eyes right to
mine.
"What do I do now?!", I asked to myself, "act pleasant and say nothing", I
answered. And that's what I did. I smiled a shy smile and nodded
emphatically at the both of them, I even let out a tiny "um hmm" which I
hopped was feminine sounded enough and then I turned and kept shopping.
Soon I heard giggles from the both of them but had no idea what they
were laughing about. If only I had my 007 spy camera then I would know
for sure. Alas, I'll go to my grave never knowing if I had been
discovered and turned to an object of ridicule in Fields candy
department.
Now I was in line with my purchases. Somehow I had managed to step into the
line at the right time OR frightened bystanders let me cut in line because
there should have been a least three customers ahead of me. Now there was
just one.
"Is this the end of the line" , a tired looking woman inquired, "god I
think I'm burning up...if I have to wait much longer I'll die!"
Oh, no!....I guess people wanting to interact with me is positive
passability indicator. It's also a carryover trait from my male self who is
frequently sought out by troubled strangers seeking empathy. But this one
was not only sharing her menopausal experience with me, she was making
direct eye contact! I feigned my best "understanding but concerned look" and
shook my head at her silently.
She kept trying to get me to speak..."...this shopping thing is SO
overrated....it just tires me out!", she added with a rhythm that
said..."here's where you're supposed to say something honey....c'mon
lets bitch together"
All I could produce was a breathy but agreeable sounding, "...really"
Before she could completely corner me one of the candy counter ladies
yelled..."Who's Next!" and unknowingly rescued me from exposure and
publicly facing the true paradox of my gender situation. Of course now
I had to figure out how to interact with the salesperson without
speaking.
I silently handed her my purchases, the small Godiva Holiday Sampler,
some cute chocolate Field's Santas and a purse sized Godiva chocolate
bar (meant as a personal reward for my having been a brave girl).
"$20.37", announced the sales woman and I silently handed her my
corporate credit card. Big Mistake!
She looked at the card, hesitated and looked again. She looked once more and
then walked away to find a supervisor.
"Oh shit!", I thought, "The good news is that they DON'T think I'm me,
that is they doubt I'm the person with the very male sounding name on
the card...the bad news is that this could lead to a very public
discussion with the supervisor about my real identity. "
The sales woman returned, thankfully she was alone..."We can't accept
this card, sorry, it must be your husband’s or somebody else’s..." It
sounded like she was going to go on speculating for a while.
"Don't go there.", I thought, "lets not start reasoning out how and why
I have this particular card...lets skip the whole thing." and I handed
her cash...thank God I had some.
With that the transaction ended. Her original momentum continued as she
yelled "Who's Next?" and allowed me to exit unscathed. This was the
first time I ever had trouble using my own credit card...I mostly looked at
it as a victory.
Time was running out. Like a superhero looking for an empty phone booth to
change in, I needed to get to some anonymous parking lot and change back into
my other self.
My exit route took me through the cosmetics department. I slowed my
hurried pace a little to admire the items that I always have a hard time
inspecting as a man. Fragrances, cleaning regimes, foundation, lipsticks.
Uh oh...I had stopped all together. I was tired of the mail order and
anxiously purchased Walgreens lipsticks of the past. In spite of my
little episode, I still felt elegant and I wanted something that bespoke this
moment. I wanted an expensive souvenir of this day.
"Can I help you?", asked a beautiful Loreal counter sales girl.
"Yes", I said in the highest pitch I could. I made a point of diverting my
eyes and continuing to inspect the lipstick display...."this one", I said
pointing to one of my favorite dark red-brown colors.
"Cappuccino?" she asked and I nodded affirmatively. I admired her
loveliness as she walked away but avoided looking too lecherously at her when
she returned. "$16.95", she said and stood by waiting for payment. Well, it
certainly was going to be expensive...at least I had realized that part of
the fantasy.
"Cash or charge?", she prompted further. I thought about it for a
second...at least we were alone in case I had to explain that I really
was. Who knows, maybe she would get turned on meeting by somebody like
me. We could become friends, go shopping and pick up guys together.
Maybe it would become serious and I could start a whole new life with
this beauty, we would get a place together and share clothes and shoes
and maybe even............ I must have drifted a little too long
because she politely cleared her throat to get my attention..."hmmm",
she cleared.
I reached into my purse, this could be a major decision, a turning point in
my life...my fingers contacted both the cash and the card...time had run out
and I was going to be late if I didn't act soon.
I held the answer in my hand-
"Cash", I said and handed her a Twenty.
It may not have been the most interesting choice but I figured I could
always change my life on another day.
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