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Cissy


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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