So, I've been dressing for about four years now. At first it was just underdressing, rocking panties and camis and stockings under my typical hard-wearing guy clothes. This proceeded for a couple of years, with me building a pretty respectable collection of delicate underthings, then my daughter came along and bam!...my first major purge. After the kid came along, I didn't dress for a few months, and didn't tell my wife or my shrink, both of whom knew about Molly, that I'd taken all my stuff to the Salvation Army. When I told them, their reactions were pretty much the same: "Well, that's silly. What'd you do that for?" So I started again, and it wasn't long before I'd gone completely down the rabbit hole...
After a few months of hitting resale and fetish shops in the greater Detroit area, I put together a respectable enough wardrobe that I thought was ready for prime time. After a lot of talking to my shrink and consultation with the wife and some deep soul searching, I decided that I wanted to go out, in a semi-controlled environment, as Molly. So, early one morning and fully dressed from clew to earring, I walked out of the house and headed to my shrink's office. Since then I've been out a few times dressed, mostly to more therapy sessions and quick darts into coffee houses for coffee and scones. Today though, I manned up (as it were) and spent an extended morning out on the town.
Fully made up and in a stretchy metallic green top, jeans, my one pair of Mary Janes and my pea coat I went out to wander around. Now, I live in a fairly GLBT friendly area of SE Michigan so I feel pretty safe, and I'm not particularly concerned about being spotted and recognized because, well, I'm just not. A few CDs I've talked to about going out have praised me for my "courage", which honestly is little more than bravado born from working for myself, my wife knowing, having pretty cool friends and generally not giving a shit. Anyway, I went out with an actual agenda this morning!
See, first I had my shrink appointment, where I talked more about dressing and what it means to me (which I'm sure I'll discuss at length here eventually) then I had some errands to run. First, it was to Borders, where I was the only (sorta) girl in the Military History section, to browse around for some research material and generally kill time. That was pretty exciting and a little scary. There were people all over the place, and I was passed more than once in the aisle as I had my nose buried in histories of the Navy and biographies of Chesty Puller. After I decided against spending a bunch of money I don't have on books I can get from the library, I sauntered over to Noir Leather.
Noir Leather is a great little punk rock/goth/fetish boutique that I like to frequent. I bought my first and, well, only wig there, and I wanted to go and show it off to the girl who sold it to me. Sadly, she wasn't there, but the woman who was there totally made my morning. Now, I've only been doing makeup and wearing a wig and heels for a month now. I have no illusions about being passable, I'm pretty much like a ten-foot paint job. I look great from about ten feet away, but the closer you get the more you realize that something ain't right. Today though, I must have had my mojo on because she took me for a girl at about two feet for around ten seconds until I opened my mouth and said hi (I don't even try to change my voice, I'm pretty much just a dude in a wig and heels). She was extremely gracious, paid me a ton of compliments and talked to me about makeup and wig care and gave me some tips on how to improve my flouncing around. She also sat me in their hilarious giant throne and shot a picture of me to show to the girl who sold me the wig.
Then, like Cinderella at midnight (I can't fucking believe I just made a Cinderella reference there) I had to run home where I had to remove wig and heels for the walk to my house (hey, I have to be a little subtle). The wife had to go into the office and I was tagged in for kid duty. Now here I am, still dressed, still riding high on euphoria and endorphins, and enjoying working and being me, which if you know me you'd know is a change from the norm. Thanks for reading along.
PS: As an interesting side note, the times I've been into Noir Leather both as Molly and in my regular guy clothes, I've been treated with more respect and kindness than I was the first time I went to Janet's Closet, which is supposed to be the Crossdresser store. Now granted, I didn't deal with Janet herself, but some woman she had working the counter there was crazy rude to me, which I totally didn't need being new, scared, and emotionally vulnerable. I'm going to try Janet's again, though. Hopefully with better results.
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