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Linda Goes Golfing

By Linda Jensen


In the winter of 1995, because of a change of government in Canada I found myself, as they say 'between situations. I also found myself with a fair bit of money courtesy of a generous severance package and a fair bit of freedom as my old job was guaranteed for me until one year after the 'secondment' ended. The time also coincided with a period in my life when I wanted to increase my pursuit of two leading interests in my life - crossdressing and golf.

I decided to take my first long vacation in years. My plan was to drive to the southeastern United States, play golf by day and be Linda by night. I also planned to attend two transgender events, the Texas 'T' Party in San Antonio and the I.F.G.E. Convention which was being held that year in Atlanta. The 'T' Party was a must. It had always received the highest compliments from participants, had a good mixture of TG's and partners and had a great mix of events. (Also my old friend, Debbie Hahn, would be there.)

The vacation unfolded as I had hoped and after overcoming some minor car troubles I was driving south on I-95 typically stopping to play golf and have breakfast at a Shoney's (All you can eat for $2.99) in the mornings and then returning to my motel to shower, shave and become Linda. Then it was out to the nearest mall or factory outlet center for a few hours of trying and sometimes buying. In the evening I would grab a power nap, then redo my makeup and Linda would head out to a restaurant and perhaps a bar. On my travel days I would check out of the motel as Linda and then power shop my way south.. When it was time to find a motel I would find a quiet place to change into male clothing and wipe off my make up then search out an inexpensive motel.

I remember starting one day in Florence SC with a round of golf then back to the motel to transform to Linda and on to the road. I hit some stores in Florence and then headed south on the crowded I-95. I shopped in Savannah and Brunswick GA before reaching Florida well after dark.. That day I probably visited some twenty stores and tried on close to thirty dresses, bathing suits, skirts and various other outfits.

At the Florida Welcome Center I changed back to male mode and headed to St Augustine where I thought I could get a motel room. However in St. Augustine I could not find a motel room as everything was booked up for some sort of race weekend a few miles south in Daytona. Resigned to spending the night in my car I decided to kill some time by visiting yet another lingerie shop in yet another factory outlet mall. As I was picking through the racks of bras and panties on sale I noticed another man alone doing the same. No doubt he is another crossdresser, I thought to myself. I kept an eye on him and when he entered a dress shop I followed and made it obvious to him that I had a very personal interest in the clothes I was picking out and holding up to my body. Outside the shop we finally made contact and soon my new friend invited my to come to his apartment in Daytona where we could get dressed and I could show him some tricks on how to do makeup.

Not for the first or last time in my life serendipity created a great evening where I thought there was going to be nothing. My friend had a nice apartment which he shared with one other person who was "never home on weekends as he stays at his girlfriend's." He was mostly in to exotic lingerie so I made him up with a hooker look; I dressed more conservatively but still chose a blouse that would hopefully show off my cleavage to best effect. We shared drinks and conversation and I learned about his failed marriage and his rapidly growing interest in crossdressing and I told him of some of my experiences and let him know that his feelings were far from unusual. We flirted with intimacy but my long day and his novice reticence kept anything serious from happening. I spent the night there (in his spare bedroom) and in the morning I left. I wonder whatever became of him.

The Daytona area was too crowded for me so I headed across Florida to Pensacola where I settled in for several days of a regular diet of golfing by day and dressing by night. By now the reader may be saying, "I thought this story was about Linda playing golf." Here it comes:

In Pensacola I started to fantasize about the possibility of combining these two passions of mine by playing golf dressed as Linda. I didn't realize how soon that fantasy would be realized. I drove overnight from Pensacola to San Antonio, stopping only briefly for a roadside nap near Beaumont, Texas. I didn't want to spend a minute at the 'T' Party including check-in as anything but 'Linda' so I pulled in to a truck stop on the outskirts of San Antonio, had a shower and shave and put feminine undergarments under my jeans and sweater. I drove further in to San Antonio where I found a quiet parking lot, probably under video surveillance but I didn't care, I pulled out my make-up kit and put on the best face I could, changed in to feminine slacks and blouse and put on my 'day wig' and then went in to the ladies room in a nearby McDonald's to finish my make-up. Then it was on to the Holiday Inn to the 'T' Party. Right from check in it was an even better event than I had expected. The hotel desk clerks readily accepted me as Linda and the girls in the 'T' Party registration were very helpful.

At the registration I met to Phyllis Frye, a lawyer from Houston and one of the leading activists for transgender rights in America.. Phyllis told me that she had booked several tee times at a local golf course for participants at the 'T' Party. Was I interested in playing? I said yes right away but despite my fantasy I was unsure about playing as Linda. As the day unfolded I learned that there would be others playing en femme so that steeled my resolve. Linda would play golf.

The next day, after an early breakfast, I dressed in the closest clothes I had to a women's golf outfit and presented myself in the hospitality room from where Phyllis would lead us to the golf course.. There turned out to be only six playing golf. Phyllis, myself and one other en femme, a couple from Illinois and a crossdresser from Iowa who chose not to go en femme. We took two cars; I rode with Phyllis and had a very informative discussion on recent transgender legal fights. I am not by nature a very cause oriented person but I still found her zeal refreshing and informative.

At the golf course the golfer from Iowa, who I met as Susan the night before, proved very useful in paying the green fees and arranging for a golf cart thus keeping me from direct contact with the course staff. We rode together and between shots we had a great conversation mixing golf stories with accounts of our ventures out of the closet.

For years I had envied that if only I could hit from the ladies tee the shorter distance would really help me play a better game of golf.. I would like to report that Linda played the game of her life, driving the ball long and straight even reaching a couple of the par five's in two but the first hole was a prelude to the rest of the game. My drive was long but it hooked over on to another fairway and I then had the impossible task of trying to hit over or through some trees to get back to the first green. I left Susan with the cart, took a couple of clubs and went to my ball. Coming up the other fairway was a foursome of young men. They got to my ball at the same time I did. Nervously I addressed and hit the ball as the boys watched. It dribbled forward about 25 yards. Did I hear one of the boys say with disdain "What do you expect, woman golfer!" or was it "What do you expect, transgendered golfer!" As luck would have it my path and theirs were to come close on several other occasions as my golf balls careened seemingly out of control around the course. I would have loved to have been within earshot of their post game tales as they described that tall wild broad who kept hitting her golf ball at them.

Late in the round I realized that my problem shots were usually happening with my woods and 'long irons' where my stance would be a little more upright than with the putter and 'short irons'. Could it be that my 38c silicon filled breasts were affecting my swing? I wasn't about to remove them so I made a slight adjustment in my stance and although the ball didn't go as far it tended to stay in my own fairway. (Later that year CBS golf television commentator, Ben Wright, would unleash a storm of protest upon himself when he opinioned that women golfers couldn't play as well as men because their breasts interfered with a good swing. I was helpless to offer him my first hand testimony of support.)

It turned out to be a great day on the golf course. I loved the feeling of being dressed as a woman, of feeling the coolness of nylon bra and panties, sensing the slight scent of my perfume and of coyly touching up my lipstick as we sat in our golf cart waiting for our turn to play the next hole. And despite the problem they seemed to cause for my errant drives, I enjoyed the sensation of my breasts suspended from my ribs as I bent over a putt and of knowing that golfers behind me would be able to see the lines of my bra through my shirt as I lined up my shots.

I was anxious but excited when after 9 holes I had to visit the ladies locker room to 'powder my nose'. I also took the opportunity to use their large beautiful mirrors to fix my makeup which seemed to be standing up pretty well in the sunny but cool Texas winter day. No real ladies were in the locker room while I was there. After the game Phyllis lead us to a restaurant featuring Mexican food and busy with a lunchtime crowd. We shared good food and conversation and were well received by the restaurant staff. Susan and I recounted golf stories and I relived my feelings of being able to play golf en femme.. I think Susan felt she should have tried it, after all.

I spent two more weeks touring the south. Except for one brief visit I did not go to the I.F.G.E. convention and unfortunately Linda didn't get to play another round of golf but she did get out to casinos in Shreveport and Biloxi and partied at Backstreet in Atlanta. I also witnessed what must be the world's worst and most tasteless female impersonator show at a club on Bourbon Street in New Orleans. However, as they say, those are stories for another day.

As of this writing Linda has yet to play her second game of golf. She is still looking for a willing partner. Any takers?
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