It’s been a while since I’ve had an opportunity to get out in public as Gabrielle. My wife, the fabulous Mrs. H., recently took me shopping at one of the local malls. It marked the first time we ventured out in public together, while I was en femme (not including drives we’ve taken in which I did not exit the car).

My public outings have had mixed results in the past. To increase the potential for a more successful outing, I took some drastic measures this time, or at least drastic for me.

In order to draw less attention and increase my odds of blending in with the crowd, I did something rather undesirable. I wore pants. I hate pants. It may be crossdressing cliche, but I really do hate pants. Women have been wearing them for several decades, but I just don’t feel very feminine in pants, even women’s pants, or skin-tight jeans in this case. At least I looked good in them, according to my wife. I do admit, my legs still have a nice, feminine shape in jeans (thanks to my daily treks on the treadmill of doom), but it’s not my style and I wasn’t happy about it.

The activity was shopping, but this outing was mainly an experiment in blending in – something I’ve failed to do in past public outings. I like to dress nice. What I consider “dressing nice” and “looking good” falls under the category of dressing “sexy” in the eyes of many people. We’ll spare my gripe with how society tends to frown upon “sexy” these days, but that is my preferred style and how I feel best.

What I wore
My outfit consisted of tight bluejeans, black knee-high boots (flat, not high-heeled), a black turtleneck sweater, and an outer black button-down sweater (that fell just below my hips) over it. My only accessories were a gold crucifix necklace, and basic black purse. I toned my eye makeup down dramatically and was careful not to over-do it on my blush. Mrs. H. and I had similar looks going on, each wearing black tops, tight bluejeans, flat (non-heeled) black knee-high boots, and black purses.

I snapped a few quick photos on the way to the mall while my wife drove, one of which you see at the top of this post. You can see her long, black hair draped over her right shoulder at the right edge of the photo. Sorry about the lack of a bull-body photo of how I looked in what I refer to as “fem-drab”. I didn’t feel compelled to capture my image in this less than desirable style. Update: Scroll down and click on the thumbnail image at the end of this post to see how I looked in the pants I wore.

As much as it pained me to dress down, it did help in terms of not drawing attention. As I’ve stated before – I do not pass in person. Don’t let my pictures fool you. In two dimensional photos where I have more control over things such as lighting and the angle in which I’m viewed, it’s a lot easier to appear passable. In person, angle, depth perception, and less than ideal lighting conditions easily reveal my feminine shortcomings.

Just friends, not lovers
When in girl-mode, my wife prefers I behave like a friend, rather than romantic love interest. It’s understandable, as it should draw less attention in public that way. Even so, my arm kept finding its way around her shoulder somehow. Muscle memory, old habit, or subconscious need, it was quite difficult to keep from showing romantic affection for her while we were out. I never realized how automatic (and frequent) my spousal public shows of affection are, nor did I expect it to be so difficult to refrain.

Mrs. H. did a good job of helping me feel more comfortable out in public. She coached me on “feminine shopping behavior”, mannerisms, posture, and appropriate facial expressions. Yes, facial expression is an important point to her, and I agree. As a not so youthful genetic male, my face doesn’t look very feminine on its own – even when coated with gobs of makeup, carefully applied so as not to appear like “gobs of makeup”. I have to try to keep a “perky” look on my face, which includes a hint of smile, that does not appear to be a full-out smile. Walking around with a constant smile on my face would just be weird. It was tricky, but I did my best to pull it off.

One thing that was no different from any other shopping experience with my wife was that I ended up carrying all the clothing items picked out as we browsed. As a loving spouse, in guy-mode or en femme, I am always happy to do so.

Blending in… more or less
My attention was a bit divided. My wife kept trying to get me to behave and act “naturally” (which included browsing through clothes), but I couldn’t help but try to look at each and every face around me for signs of being “read”. Most people seemed to be completely unaware, which is exactly what I wanted. That was the point in dressing in “fem-drab”. So long as people don’t look directly at me, and there was little reason for them to, I would remain just another body in the crowd.

I did not go completely unnoticed, however. As my eyes scanned about, I did notice a handful of people who appeared to have read me. There were at least a few occasions in which people reacted directly to my presence.

Deer in the headlights
Shortly after entering the mall, in one of the main hallways, two teen boys (maybe early 20-somethings) walked in our direction while conversing with each other. Our eyes met briefly. A few yards away, their conversation stopped abruptly and I got a rather obvious look of surprise. Just after passing by them, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Their eyes open wide, almost popping out of their heads, and jaws hanging open in surprise, was rather humorous.

Nice boots
In the clothing store that we spent most of our time browsing (it had clothing styles we both enjoyed), I was approached twice. A young male sales associate came up to me and commented on how he liked my boots as he showed me his own boots… women’s boots. Footwear was his only “female” attire as far as I could tell. He read me, and we read him as well, though not as a transgender in his case. He was an effeminate, stylish, gay man. With only one or two exceptions, I’ve always clicked well socially with gay men and women. They’re pretty open-minded and cool, or at least those I’ve had the pleasure of knowing over the years.

I did not actually talk to the sales associate because Mrs. H. jumped in and began chatting with him, believing he was commenting on her boots and not mine. I stood by and smiled while they talked for a minute or two. There was some hesitancy on my part to chat with strangers on this day, which I’ll explain later. Even though I didn’t participate in the brief conversation, it was still a cool experience. He knew I was trans and was genuinely welcoming to me – perhaps more so because of it. How I wish that could be the case with everyone, or at least the majority.

Excuse me, ‘miss’…
After our shopping in this store was concluded, Mrs. H. and I quietly conversed with each other while waiting in the rather long, slow moving check out line that extended back some distance. After some time, another shopper approached me and asked me for some assistance. She was in her late 50′s, I’d guess.

“Could you tell me what the price on this is? I forgot my glasses and can’t read the tag.” “Seriously? That’s her approach?”, I thought to myself. I almost busted out laughing… again. It was a rather obvious attempt to get me to speak so she could confirm whether or not I was a “real” woman. The moment seemed like it was ripped right out of a Seinfeld episode. Smiling larger than life and trying not to laugh, I leaned over to look at the price tag. Just then, Mrs. H. intervened and “helped” the woman read the price tag. My wife’s intent was to “come to my rescue” and prevent a potentially uncomfortable moment. I love her so much for that. Had she not been there, I would have “played along” and probably gotten “probed” a bit further by this curious woman. Her polite, if obvious, approach to “reading” (or confirming) me was amusing and probably well intentioned but I knew it was best to not converse with people on this day. It might have been a great opportunity to engage in a potentially educational conversation, but I was filled with a mix of nervous energy and adrenaline and very much off my game.

An alarming reaction
Shopping bags in hand, Mrs. H. and I slowly made our way through the mall’s large hallways. As we walked and chatted, my eyes continued scanning about looking for signs of being read. Most people seemed not to notice, and that was very pleasing.

At one point, my eyes met the eyes of an oncoming man who was walking in our direction with his young daughter. He was about 5′ 6″ (noticeably shorter than I), very thin, and probably in his mid 30′s. I looked away to be polite. A moment later, I looked back to find him still starring directly at me with a rather odd look on his face. He pulled his young daughter close to him, pressing her against his body, as if to protect her from imminent danger, and quickly altered direction into the nearest store entrance. Our eyes remained locked for several seconds during his “escape”. The “odd look” on his face appeared to be that of fear, perhaps anger. I’ve gotten nasty looks from people before, but never the look of fear, if that was what he experienced.

I asked my wife if she caught his reaction, but she was looking in another direction. I explained what I saw – a worried man attempting to “protect” his young daughter from… well, me. Mrs. H. tried to convince me that I misinterpreted things because I was nervous. Well aware of my own nerves, I disagreed.

It took some time, but I think I figured out what really took place. The over-protective father probably did experience a genuine sense of fear. The fear was not of me however, but rather of his own daughter. More accurately, he likely feared having to explain what I am (as a transgender) to his daughter had she gotten a look at me.

I understand his discomfort in context with where much of society currently sits with things. Even so, his reaction was cowardly and unnecessary. Children look up to their parents for guidance. If they sense discomfort in their parents about something, they will in turn learn to become uncomfortable about it themselves. My own parents were very uncomfortable answering certain questions when I was a child. Consequently, I “learned” that these things were just “wrong” – even to simply inquire about. Looking back, there was nothing wrong with most of the things that made my parents uncomfortable. I’ve made it a point to remind and embarrass them about it in recent years, mainly in jest.

It is sad that certain realities, perfectly natural and quite harmless, are still taught to be immoral or flat-out “wrong” in the eyes of impressionable children. This is a topic best suited for another concentrated discussion… or many discussions, however.

An interesting learning experience
Our mall shopping concluded, Mrs. H. picked up a few tops and a dress. A single new miniskirt was in my bag – not exactly much of a wardrobe expansion, but finding things in my size (mainly tops), AND in styles/colors that I like, is no easy task. In addition, I was quite distracted with my “people watching”.

For the record, I quickly changed into my new miniskirt upon arriving home. I couldn’t get out of those pants fast enough. It felt so good to feel “normal” again. I am literally laughing as I share this, but it’s true. The skirt looked very nice on me, too. Again, my apologies for not having photos.

Although it was a good learning experience, I’m not pleased with many aspects of the outing – mainly how it felt (or how I felt during it). My attempt at blending in by dressing exactly how I do not like to dress did work to some extent. The cost of blending in was that I didn’t feel very feminine, even under all that makeup and completely in “women’s” clothing. I didn’t feel like myself. It almost felt like I was “playing dress-up” (“dress-down”, in this case) or wearing a costume. Have you ever felt really awkward or “not right” because you dislike what you’re wearing, regardless of gender expressed?

Feminine vocalization issues
According to Mrs. H., I was unable to produce my feminine voice properly, which she noted as we quietly talked to each other while shopping. That was, to some extent, why I was hesitant to engage in conversation with anyone. I practiced my feminine vocal exercises for about 10 minutes in the car on the way there. My wife got a big kick out of that, and even I am laughing as I reflect. Maybe the vocal exercises were not long enough, or perhaps I was simply not feeling enough like myself to properly feminize my voice. Many crossdressers do not try to hide their male voice, however as Gabrielle, I do not aim to be a “crossdresser”, but rather a trans-woman, if only part time. I’d rather not get into the “labels” and “terminology” debate right now, though. This write-up is already triple its intended target length.

Analysis, Mr. Spock
I’ve got a ways to go yet, in terms of blending, acting “naturally” and feeling comfortable out in the “wild”. A controlled environment, such as a planned gathering where I know people or have a specific purpose, is a lot easier for me right now. Life is a growth process and this part of my growth has been stunted for a long time. I’m playing catch-up, though it’s moving at a very slow pace – mainly due to lack of time and opportunity to get out and grow. My own feelings and emotions are under constant psychological self-analysis. This trip out gave me a lot of good data to sift through, odd as that may sound. It’s something we all do, although I sometimes speak about it in direct analytical terms.

What’s your story?
For those of you who are more advanced than I when it comes to public self-expression, what have you discovered in terms of successfully blending in? Those of you who have yet to venture out in public, what keeps you from doing so? Please take a moment to share experiences, thoughts and ideas.

Update:
Click the thumbnail to see how I look in pants. The outfit in this photo is different than when I went out shopping with my wife, but from the waste down, including the boots, that is what I wore. I’m not a fan of wearing pants, but I don’t look too bad in them. Honestly, I look a lot better in these kind of pants than a lot of genetic women half my age who squeeze into them… but of course, I have to exercise my fit little butt off to achieve it.

It’s Friday… thank GOD it’s Friday! What a crazy, busy week it’s been for me. That’s often how things just work out in my life.

During the week, my wife, the fabulous Mrs. H., brightened up my days with her usual awesomeness. From her amazing, delicious Puerto Rican home cooking to the incredible way she rocks my world (and everything else in between) – she’s the greatest.

I love my wife with all my heart and thank God for her presence in my life. This afternoon I will greet her with a nice bouquet of flowers in hand. If you’re reading this, why not surprise your wife or significant other with some flowers, too. The loving smile they offer in return is worth every dime!

Every couple of weeks or so, I bring her flowers just to let her know I love her and just to enjoy the beautiful smile they put on her face. Flowers really don’t have much value to me. I mean, they’re kind of expensive for something that really doesn’t last long. Some people may see it as a waste of money, but it’s really not. Like I said, the smile it makes on her face is worth every dime. She knows I love her – I tell her frequently, and show it in many ways. She loves getting flowers though, and lights right up with joy.

Even though I don’t bring her flowers every week, she kind of knows my pattern. It’s usually on a Friday and usually a couple of times a month. In light of that, maybe the surprise element isn’t very high, but she loves when I greet her with a bouquet of flowers followed by a hug and kiss.

I call it “marriage maintenance” – the little things that aren’t necessary, but still make a big difference in the general level of happiness. Are you up to date on your marriage maintenance? Flowers aren’t just for dating and special occasions. They put a big smile on my wife’s face every time, and I bet they will for yours, too.

When’s the last time you brought your wife some flowers for no other reason than just because you love her? Why not do so today. There are often additional benefits in bringing your wife flowers, too, you know. ;) I’ll leave that to your imagination. But don’t just imagine a happy marriage. MAKE it a reality.

Have a great weekend, everyone. Bring your wife some flowers and I bet it will be that much better for the both of you.

Update: The photo up top is that of my wife admiring the flowers, moments after I came through the door this afternoon. I brought her a dozen white roses. As expected, a HUGE smile was on her face (sorry the flowers are covering it – she asked not to have her face shown completely). Mission accomplished. The previous photo was of a bouquet I bought her some time ago.

A quick recap
Longing to get out in public and interact with people as Gabrielle, I attended my high class school reunion en femme. The photo to the right was taken just before leaving the house that evening. I was terribly nervous and it took me a while to find my stride, but eventually I hooked up with some old friends and wound up having a great time. I also found myself very much out of the closet to many more people than I was comfortable with.

In the days following the reunion, the realization of being “out” to so many people wreaked havoc on my emotional stability as I pondered all the terrible things that may come as a result. After some time, I realized that I was over-reacting and simply experienced some instability as a result of taking such big first steps out like that.

The experience changed me. Many fears were conquered that evening. The insecurities that followed have been properly dealt with and bother me no more. I’ve made some wonderful advances in my growth and evolution as a person. There were also some considerable failures on my part that evening – signs of how far I have yet to go.

Personal accomplishments
There were several points of progress made in attending my class reunion as Gabrielle. Some of them may seem insignificant, especially to those who has been boldly stepping out in public en femme with great success for some time now. For those of you who are still relatively new to getting out in public, or have yet to do so, these are the points that seem most relevant in my mind:

• Stepped out of the car. One small step for a t-girl in high-heeled boots, but one giant leap on the courage front. It was the first time I stepped outside the safety of my car in a populated location.
• Interaction with people en femme. Not only did I walk among people in a populated area, I interacted with several people as Gabrielle.
• Outed myself. I didn’t intentionally out myself, but out I am, and to literally dozens of people who’ve only ever known me as my man-side, Gabe.
• Relaxed and had a good time en femme. What good is being out in the world without also enjoying oneself? Nervous as I was, eventually I did loosen up and just enjoy my time among old friends. My appearance was (to my friends) a complete non-issue.
• Braved the laughter. I was aware of the many people gawking at me like I was some kind of freak show. Also very noticeable were the ones pointing and laughing, even calling out to me at times. They laughed at me and I didn’t care. I still had a great time. Oddly, this is something I was unable to do back in high school as I was often made fun of and laughed at for just not fitting in. It used to hurt terribly. On this night however, their laughter had no negative power over me at all.

Personal failures
Even though I made some important advances in my evolution, there were some dismal failures as well. My insecurities got the best of me on a few fronts and manifested themselves in some rather embarrassing ways.

• Secret identity. I showed up at my class reunion expecting to keep my male identity secret and refused repeatedly to tell people who asked (with good intention) who they used to know me as. Refusing to offer my male identity is fine in meeting new people, but at a class reunion? I really should have thought this through better and been more reasonable. Most of the people who asked were clearly well-intentioned in their inquiry. Unrealistic expectations and poor behavior on my part.
• Little miss bashful. Every time someone asked my male-identity, my response included very juvenile and overly shy behavior and mannerisms. I literally tried to “cute” my way out of the question… and probably looked like a damn fool each time. Way to leave ‘em with a good impression, Gabrielle. Aside from the fact that this information should not have been kept secret at a class reunion, I simply should have explained that I didn’t want to reveal that information and behaved like an adult.
• The need to explain myself. Over and over, I felt an overwhelming need to explain to people that I’m not confused about who I am, my wife knows about my feminine side, and that I do not present myself like this full-time. Almost every person I interacted with that evening looked at me wide-eyed, surprised, uncertain as how to interact with me, and very obviously tried to behave as if “everything was ok” (a polite gesture that was very much appreciated). In turn, I felt it necessary to explain myself. If they think I’m confused about myself or believe that (I think) I look 100% female in appearance, I should explain that I’m not confused and fully aware of my inability to pass. If they think I’m a mental case or wonder if “my wife knows”, I should explain that I’m happily married, my wife accepts me as I am, and life is good. It’s hard to really convey exactly how many people looked at me, unless you’ve experienced it yourself. Rather than keep trying to explain myself, I should have simply been myself, conversed with them, and displayed by example that I’m very down-to-earth, normal, and put them at ease with pleasant conversation.
• Way too girly. Even after loosening up among friends, my behavior and mannerisms were a bit exaggerated and overly girly, or so that is how it sits in my memory. Although existing as Gabrielle feels very natural to me, I have yet to work out my public mannerisms and behavioral display. The opportunity to develop it naturally over the years did not exist in my life. I was forced to (or felt extreme pressure to) “man-up” in order to fit into society.

I’m fairly pleased with the progress made for my adventure. Even my failures offer me a pretty clear map of where I need improvement. Part of the funk I fell into immediately following my reunion was the fact that I might have made a much better impression on my class (as a whole) had I shown up as Gabe, wearing a nice suit, with my wife by my side. I was not popular in school, often regarded as a freak and social misfit and made fun of as such. It would have sat better with me to show my old class how far I’ve come since those dark years in my life. Instead, many of them saw me as a freak and social misfit… once again filled with insecurities and visibly awkward in my behavior (not quite ready to be out in public as Gabrielle).

I’m ok with it now though. Perhaps the legacy of Gabe will remain that of a weird-o freak in the minds of many in my class. I do not regret showing up as I did but rather wish I was better prepared in doing so.

Interesting and unexpected reactions
This being my first time interacting with people (in person) as Gabrielle, I was a little surprised by some of the reactions people displayed when seeing me. I fully expected to be read and laughed at. I even worried about the potential for harm. Some of the reactions I got from people are still under analysis in my mind.

Several people refused to make eye contact with me, or would very quickly look away if our eyes met. I think in some cases, they were genuinely attempting to be polite and not “stare”, or be perceived as staring at me because I’m “different”. In other cases, it felt more like they simply wanted nothing to do with me, as in breaking eye-contact sends out the message of “do not talk to me”.

The most confusing reaction was that of the invisible bubble around me that seemed to keep people from getting too close. There was an obvious hesitancy for some people to step into the space surrounding me. For instance, if there were 8 people chatting with each other before I entered the space, 4 of them drifted off and remained at a distance while I was present, waiting and watching from the side-lines. It almost seemed as if they were afraid of me, like I had the plague and they didn’t want to risk catching it – a reaction I was not expecting. In reflection, I think they just didn’t know what to make of me, and my presence made them uncomfortable, so they remained at a “safe distance”.

Many of the people I spoke with in brief had the look of horror on their faces, as if there were an ax sticking out the top of my head and blood dripping down. Their eyes remained very wide open as they politely spoke with me, attempting to behave as if everything was “normal”. One man shook my hand repeatedly during a brief conversation, as if to let me know he was ok with me being as I was. In school we were acquaintances, but not really close. Unlike others who looked away as our eyes met, he chose to approach me when we made eye contact. He was obviously uncomfortable in my presence, but made an honest effort to appear welcoming to me, which was appreciated, if awkward.

Were there others?
A thought that is often on my mind when I’m out in guy-mode is how many other undercover part-time t-girls are there among me? At the reunion, I was the only genetic male en femme, but statically, there should have been at least one or two more (closet) crossdressers. Did any of them say hi to me? Did they regret not showing up en femme? Are they still too heavily closeted to even consider such a move? That will remain a mystery.

Life outside the closet
Immediately following my class reunion, I felt terribly exposed and feared negative fall-out as a result of now being “out”. As of yet, nothing bad has come of it – at least not that I’m aware of. I’m honestly very comfortable now in terms of people knowing me as I truly am. Those who were cool to me, and those who laughed – it’s all good.

My somewhat neglected (man-side) facebook account started receiving friend requests from people I encountered that evening. There were some pleasant, though fairly brief message exchanges as a result. I added a photo of Gabrielle (the same one seen up top minus the text) to my facebook photos, labeled only as “a dear friend of my wife”. Consider it a small step forward in coming out to others.

A woman I was friends with in high school actually saw me at the reunion (though we did not meet up there), but didn’t realize it was me until finding the (Gabrielle) photo in my facebook pictures. Her friend request came as a result of discovery through mutual friend and not because of the reunion itself. She let me know she was cool with it, even if it was just a prank I pulled. I could have easily told her “Yep – it was just a joke”, but chose to fill her in on the reality. She explained that she didn’t understand it, but has always liked me and that hasn’t changed regardless of my gender expression. If only more people in this world were as accepting. We also enjoyed a brief exchange that died off in a few days, more so because of busy lives and not because of my femme-side.

I may be “out” as a transgender but the link between Gabe and Gabrielle remains a secret, at least for now. In part 1, I explained that a different femme-name was used (instead of Gabrielle).

How does my wife feel about this?
Mrs. H. is not yet comfortable with my being “out” to my high school classmates. She fears that someone may use this information to somehow cause me trouble. Her concern is understandable.

She also feels let down. For years, she had expressed an interest in attending my reunion with me (as Gabe, not Gabrielle). Aware of my very troubled times in high school, she wanted to be by my side as I showed people the confident, mature, strong and handsome man I had become… one with a rather attractive wife. When I found out about the reunion, only a few weeks prior, my interest level was very low, so I didn’t mention it to her. It was only at the last minute that I decided to attend (as Gabrielle) and filled my wife in as to my intention. My only real regret of the evening was in not allowing my wife an opportunity that oddly meant more to her than it did to me – a selfish move that I didn’t fully comprehend the scope of until talking with her after the fact. I could have shown up as Gabe, my lovely wife by my side, and made a very good impression on my old classmates as such.

Come so far, yet so much farther to grow
In venturing out as Gabrielle to my class reunion, I made great strides in my personal growth. I also discovered how much I have yet to learn. It is so very different being Gabrielle online than live and in-person, among people. Understanding the psychology of being who and what I am is one thing. Finding my footing in out in the world as Gabrielle is something that I have much to learn about.

What’s next?
I’ve ventured out as Gabrielle a couple more times since my reunion. There have been additional successes, failures, and an unsettling cold dose of reality in the form of intolerance and hate. Next up will probably be my first foray into vlogging as Gabrielle.

Related content: Class Reunion En Femme and Unprepared

The photo you see above is of my wife, the fabulous Mrs. H. If you’re new to this site, she’s a genetic woman, not a crossdresser (like me). Although she agreed to pose for the photograph, it is not uncommon to find her admiring the beauty she sees in her own reflection in the mirror. This is especially true when she’s wearing something sexy.

What does this have to do with anything? When it comes to the misconceptions about crossdressers by mainstream society, a lot, really. Please note that sex and masturbation will be brought up in this article to some extent – not in a gratuitous way, but rather informational and as a matter of fact. You may want to stop reading now if informational sexual content is offensive to you. In saying that, I can’t help but wonder if people also skipped out on sex education in school because that also dealt with matters of sex and (gasp) masturbation.

I would like to first mention that my wife has given her permission to publish the intimate content within this article and is fully aware of what it encompasses. She understands my intentions and agrees with the message I would like to convey.

She likes to dress sexy
Mrs. H. is an attractive woman. Short miniskirts and revealing tops are often the norm when leaving the house. This was more the case years ago than now, but dressing sexy was, and to some extent still is, her preferred choice in personal appearance. Her revealing attire is not intended to attract the attention of horny guys, even though that is often the result. She’s a cute little thing, but also tough as nails. Guys who misinterpret her sexy appearance as an invitation to hit on her are always greeted with a cold, abrasive earful from my outspoken wife. She can really handle herself and then some, trust me. The point is that Mrs. H. likes to dress sexy because she enjoys looking good, period.

Society has a problem with sex
Expression of sex and sexuality is oddly frowned upon in today’s society. Of western cultures, America is probably the most sexually repressed. It’s not quite as bad as it was 40 years ago, but this is still a highly sexually repressed society. Case in point: (in America) it’s acceptable to show someone literally getting their head blown off by a shotgun in movies and video games, but it’s not acceptable to show the act of sex, or even a woman’s frontal, naked body. So graphic violence is acceptable, but the most natural thing to all mammalian life forms on this planet, sex, is not. I could write volumes about this alone, but it’s not the main point of this article. It is however, an important point in the dots I’d like to connect – a point that extends well beyond this one write-up.

Aroused by her own reflection
Sometimes when looking at herself in the mirror, my wife can be very playful in how she poses, admires her body, and even touches herself. Although she’ll do this in the nude, more frequently it is when she’s dressed sexy. There are times when she’ll get all dressed up sexy simply to enjoy looking at her reflection. The experience is often very arousing (to her) and can lead to other things.

She masturbates fully clothed
My wife and I enjoy an active and healthy sex life. Even so, both of us still masturbate from time to time. With some exceptions, most humans do, regardless of how often they have sex. Perhaps the most interesting thing about how my wife prefers to masturbate is that she’ll usually do so when fully dressed in sexy clothes. The process begins when she gets all dressed up (including hair and makeup) and seductively poses in front of the mirror. I’m not going to get into all of the details, but the act of masturbation itself is usually done without removing any items of clothing.

Women are attracted to feminine beauty
Admiration and attraction to her own sexy form in the mirror is not unique to my wife. I’ve observed this behavior in other women, although to a lesser extent. Previous girlfriends exhibited similar conduct, admiring their own beauty and playfully posing in front of a mirror, before going out on a formal date. When accompanying my wife to clothing stores, I sometimes observe other women admiring themselves in mirrors near the fitting rooms, in ways that (seem to) go beyond simply identifying if something fits well. In personal conversation, a few other men I know have reported similar behavior in their wives – the specifics vary, but the self-arousal theme is present. It is pretty clear that my wife is not the only one essentially turned on by her own sexy reflection in the mirror from time to time. Although it may be uncommon, I highly doubt she is the only woman who masturbates fully clothed, either.

Sexual repression and behavior
Around the house, Mrs. H. is pretty uninhibited when it comes to her own body. Because of society’s general level of sexual repression, some women will probably never consider the idea of admiring themselves in the mirror on a sexual level. They may feel it is silly, abnormal, sinful, or otherwise somehow wrong. The percentage of women who (sexually) admire themselves in the privacy of their own homes vs. those who do not is something I can only guess at, in addition to the numerous factors that come into play with each.

The point
When my wife dresses sexy, she does so simply because she likes the way she looks and feels good about her appearance. The fact that she can become aroused by her own reflection and sometimes masturbate while dressed sexy does not mean she dresses sexy as some kind of “weird sexual fetish”. A number of women are in fact attracted to their own image. The fact that is it not often discussed does not make it abnormal or unnatural. It’s just a sign of our sexually repressed society.

Where does crossdressing come into play?
If you’re a crossdresser, you probably understand why I’d bring this up. If not, it may seem like a bit of an odd topic. My hope is that this article makes an interesting read when it comes to the sexual repression of our society (mainly American) and a form of autoerotic stimulus that is rarely discussed. It is also necessary to have this write-up available for reference before publishing the yet to be completed Crossdressing Myth #7 (which I will link to from here after its publication).

Earlier this week while I was at work, “Edmund” (not his real name) stopped by to visit my wife. I know Edmund fairly well. We didn’t always get along, but as he grew up and matured, things lightened up between us. He’s really not a bad guy, but he offered a little reminder and rather cold dose of reality before his visit was through.

There was a phone number Mrs. H. needed from Edmund so she handed over the phone asking him to add it to her contacts. Being the curious type, he ended up browsing through some of the photos on her phone in the process. Some of my early makeup photos as Gabrielle are on my wife’s phone. I’m sure you see where this is going.

“That’s a dude, ain’t he!”, Edmund called out to my wife. Mrs. H. immediately knew he stumbled upon my photos as Gabrielle. There are about four of them on there, none of which are very flattering. She asked how he could tell. He said he could just tell and proceeded to ask, “Is that one of your faggot friends?” Those are his exact words as quoted by my wife, which is consistent with what I know about his speech patterns.

My wife has had several gay friends over the years, as have I. Some of her gay friends were also crossdressers. I don’t know if Edmund has ever met any of them, but he is aware that Mrs. H. has friends of all types. I also don’t know if the picture shown above is the exact one he landed on when making his rather degrading remark. He could have very well viewed each of the photos.

Edmund’s candid statement was a bit jarring to me. I really shouldn’t be shocked because I know exactly how the majority of people feel about crossdressers and confuse us with gay men… who are sadly held in equally poor regard.

I felt it necessary not to show any emotion as my wife told me about Edmund’s reaction to my photos. I kind of chuckled to mask how it really made me feel. That is how I tend to behave in guy-mode anyway. In reality it hurt more than usual, perhaps because it hit pretty close to home this time. These crude, dehumanizing words made some disturbing realities settle in clearer than ever. The fact that they were spoken in direct reference to me had greater impact coming from Edmund, who is in fact my stepson.

He didn’t recognize the photos as me, but he may eventually put two and two together. We’re not exactly close and don’t see much of each other so not much would change as a result. I’m sure he’d find it very amusing and perhaps a bit “gross” to find out the truth about me. Even so, he’s not a trouble maker and understands that I deeply love and take very good care of his mother. It may offer me the opportunity to educate him on the realities about people like me… if he were at all interested in learning the truth. My gut feeling is that this conversation topic might make him uncomfortable because of the tough, macho-type he hangs with. There would probably be no real discussion, but rather some squirming, laughter and something along the line of “Ok, ok – whatever makes you happy. I don’t need to hear about it.” I can see this going either way, really.

Regardless, I’m not ashamed of who I am and certainly not about to stop being myself or crawl back into my shell. There’s nothing wrong with me, at least not on this level. It is society that needs to crawl out of the endless abyss of ignorance in which it currently festers and clings to like a frightened child to a mother’s leg.

On a side note, I often equate the word “macho” with the word “coward”. Think about how that works for a moment. This association is not absolute – it is context dependent, but that is a topic for another day.

When I arrived home from work the other day, my wife was peaking out of the door smiling at me as I parked the car. I greeted her with a hug and kiss. She gave me a big smile and said, “Thank you for coming out to me.” It made me happy to hear, although I was a bit surprised she brought it up out of the blue.

“What makes you say that right now?”, I asked. She replied, “I’m just very happy that you love me, trust me enough to tell me your deepest secrets, and can be completely open with me.” We took a walk in our back yard, hand-in-hand, and enjoyed each others company while chatting about our day.

I came out to her only last year, after more than a decade of marriage. I wish I had come out years ago. She’s been very accepting of my crossdressing and helpful in making it possible. Mrs. H. treats me well and puts up with a lot from me (I’m not exactly an easy person to live with). Regardless of my quirks and faults, she loves me as I am. For the record, I do not consider crossdressing to be a “quirk” or a “fault”, but rather a personal trait.

The love I share with my wife runs deep and she fills my life with with happiness and joy. It was only after coming out to her that I truly realized the full extent of her love. She even told me how “interesting” she thought I was. In other words, she’s happier to have a husband (and part time t-girl) who’s not just another average guy.

Understandably, a lot of crossdressers are still hiding this part of their lives from their spouses. Many have have come out to their wives, only to be told things like “I don’t want any part of it” or “Either you stop, or I’m leaving you and you’ll never see your kids again…” It breaks my heart that so many people like me end up with a woman who does not fully love and accept them. It almost seems wrong choosing to stay with such a person, although I understand there are strong feelings of attachment and need involved.

No one (man or woman) should settle for less than a spouse who truly loves them completely. Whether you’re a crossdresser or not, if your significant other does not wholly love you as you are, that ought to tell you something. My marriage is far from perfect and has its share of turbulence, but my wife and I have learned to communicate pretty well. We make a good effort to work out our differences and try to understand how each other feels.

I count my blessings and don’t take Mrs. H. for granted. She’s stood by my side through some very difficult times. When we hear the song “I’ll Stand by You” by The Pretenders, it reminds us of our relationship. It almost seems to be written from the perspective of my wife, to me. I get choked up listening to it sometimes.

Thank you for standing by me, my loving wife. Thank you for understanding and being there for me. I’ll be there for you too, always.

Most married people take showers together, at least from time to time, but have you ever washed your wife’s hair for her while doing so? For the ladies, does your husband ever wash your hair for you? If not, do you wish he would? I rather enjoy washing my wife’s hair.

While washing her hair on Sunday, I noticed that my black painted fingernails looked pretty cool peaking through her wet tresses. I quickly got out of the shower, dried off (more or less) and grabbed the camera. It’s not easy to take a photo with one hand, while trying to wash hair with the other AND not get the camera wet in the process. Unfortunately, the photos turned out very dark so I made the most of this one using a high-contrast black and white look.

Mrs. H. has long (waist-length), beautiful, black hair. Although she has no trouble washing it on her own, I’ll wash it for her from time to time (often depending on whether I’m home when she wants to wash it). To the right you can see how her hair looks when dry. Long, sexy, pitch black hair. Mmmmmm

I guess it can be said that I’m a hair enthusiast. A woman’s hair, how she wears it, and how well she maintains it has always been high on my list of most treasured feminine features. I prefer a more natural look to anything that looks obviously processed or super-trendy, etc. My wife’s hair isn’t just something that’s there, it is a part of her that I notice and admire very much. She receives compliments on her beautiful hair from me daily. I love looking at it, the way the light hits it, how it moves in a breeze, the way it falls as she does her thing, and I especially love playing with and running my fingers through it. She melts in my hands when I do.

Taking good care of Mrs. H.’s hair doesn’t stop at washing, I also trim it when needed. I don’t have any formal training in hairdressing, but I do a very good job. It’s really not that hard to trim hair that’s all one length (not layered). She loves how I trim her hair, not to mention the way I massage her head when I’m washing, or just playing with it. It’s an affectionate, romantic thing between us.

I don’t know if I am so enthusiastic about my wife’s hair because I’m a crossdresser: into women’s clothing and the whole girly thing, etc. It wouldn’t be surprising if that had something to do with it. Perhaps I’m more appreciative of things like (women’s) hair because of who I am. Maybe my crossdressing and appreciation of all that is girly has nothing to do with it – perhaps I’m just a hair enthusiast who also happens to be a crossdresser. It really doesn’t matter how it works. I admire my wife’s hair very much and enjoy the opportunity to help take care of it with her and she rather appreciates it.

Do you ever wash your wife’s hair? If not, why not? Even if you don’t think you’d enjoy doing so, I bet your wife might. She’d probably find it to be romantic, and you may earn yourself points for doing so. ;) I can understand if not many husbands trim or help style their woman’s hair. That’s a little more complicated than a simple washing… unless of course, you’re a hairdresser.

I offer you another humorous moment in the crossdressing life of yours truly. This was probably more embarrassing than humorous, at least for me. Life is full of moments like this. It’s just a lot more interesting when crossdressing is involved… or maybe just that much more humorous. I’m cool with it though. I hope this humorous (and embarrassing) moment in my life offers you a good laugh or two.

My wife and I were out shopping at a local mall. I was in guy-mode – just another plain looking guy, not much to look at. While browsing a store called “Hot Topic”, my wife spotted a pretty cool skirt. With much excitement she turned toward me, held the skirt up to me, and blurted out in a not so subtle voice, “Honey, you’d look so good in this skirt!” That might have been rather embarrassing if we were out in a public place filled with people and I was in guy-mode. Wait a minute… we were out in a public place filled with people and I was in guy-mode! :o

When we’re out shopping for my female clothing, there are certain protocols to follow. We both refer to Gabrielle as if she’s a friend of my wife’s. She was supposed to say “Don’t you think Gabrielle would look good in this?”, however that is not how it came out at all.

So there I was, out in public in guy-mode. My wife was holding a skirt up to me after letting everyone in a 20 foot radius know how good I’d look in it. I’m not sure exactly what shade of red I turned, but there was nothing I could do other than laugh. As soon as she realized what she just did, Mrs. H. began laughing as well. Embarrassing or not, it was rather funny. Even though I’m sure that people in close proximity heard exactly what she said, it’s the kind of store where the employees and regular customers tend to be a little more open-minded and don’t frown upon personal differences so much. No real damage done.

They didn’t have the skirt in my size, but we picked up a cool black mesh top and some fishnet stockings. I do love my fishnets. I wish they weren’t considered part of a “cheap” or “slutty” look by so many people, but that is an entirely different hot topic for another day.

As much as I hate how society treats crossdressers and transgendered people, you have to admit – it does make for some rather humorous moments at times. :)

 
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I’m not sure when exactly this started. It was probably many years ago because it seems like we’ve always done it this way… or more accurately put, she’s done it this way. What way is that?

It is polite to let the other party know that they are loved before hanging up. One never knows if/when something terrible might happen to them, so we’ve always made it a point to end all phone conversations with an expression of love – just in case these words are the last ever spoken between us.

Over time however, these words began to be less true from the heart, and more of just a protocol. The words are “I love you.” Or that is how they started out, anyway. Now, when I’m on the phone with Mrs. H. and she wants or needs to end the conversation abruptly, she’ll tell me “love you.” This “love you” has a specific tone to it. It is spoken in a manner similar to that of “I have to go now.”

When these words are spoken, it is expected that I simply reply back “I love you too” and then we both hang up. Of course, sometimes I continue talking. After all, there are times when she drops this on me mid-sentence. I’ve got more to say, and usually do so. If the first “love you” is not responded to in time, a second one will be fired off. The second “love you” is spoken louder and a bit more forceful. Remember – she’s not professing her love for me with these words, she’s telling me she wants to go now.

If the second “love you” is not met with the expected response from me, a third one will soon be dropped (like a bomb). This one is the final warning shot across the bow. This “love you” is forceful and absolute. She doesn’t use the word “dammit” in the third “love you”, but I can really feel it in there. It doesn’t need to be spoken, because I know she’s thinking “I told him ‘love you’ dammit – what’s taking him so long to say good bye!” There are only a few moments after the third “love you” before Mrs. H. begins to become angry with me or simply throw out the final “LOVE YOU! Bye!” and immediately hang up and be done with it.

Yesterday, I called up Mrs. H. while she was in the checkout line at a local store. No one wants to be bothered in the check out line, right? Almost as soon as I called her, I got the “love you”, meaning she couldn’t talk. But… I just called. I couldn’t end the conversation that quickly. She explained the situation, but I was in a silly mood and kept talking. She skipped over the typical second “love you” and went right into the forceful third, as if to say “Are you some kind of idiot? I’m paying for merchandise and need BOTH hands and if you don’t let me off the phone RIGHT NOW, I’m going to wring your pathetic little neck when I get home!” Yeah – that’s what I got out of that “love you”. It’s a married thing. I can tell.

That’s Mrs. H. in the photo up top, by the way. She’s pretty cool. Even after explaining that I wanted to do a write-up about her “love you” phone call ender, she was happy to pose for a photo. I annoyed her on purpose while taking some photos – to get the just right pose out of her. Thanks, baby! Love you. heehee

What’s your “time to hang up right now” signal? Do you follow any special protocols with your wife or significant other? What special code words you use? Tell me about about.

We all experience embarrassing, yet humorous moments in our lives. They’re usually embarrassing at first, then humorous when reflected upon. When crossdressing comes into the mix, there’s quite an interesting additional layer of things that can happen. I’m pretty comfortable with who I am and have a sense of humor about myself. I hope you’ll enjoy a laugh or two at my expense.

This particular humorous (and embarrassing) moment happened late last year. It stared with some innocent fun while setting up the Christmas tree in the Hermosa household. I was wearing a miniskirt, stockings, boots, and sleeveless top. Mrs. H. was enjoying the view, so to say, as I bent over to assemble the lower branches on the Christmas tree. She was seated behind me. I heard her her pull out her cell phone, so I held the pose for a moment longer so she could snap a shot. After taking a couple pictures, she giggled then grabbed a handful of Gabi-booty. Did I mention she likes to repeatedly grab me when I’m en femme? I swear – she’s worse than I am with her at times. I’m not complaining though.

Fast forward a couple weeks. I came home from work and Mrs. H. asked how I enjoyed the little surprise earlier in the day. What surprise? I figured she was just joking, so I got ready to do some time on the treadmill.

After paying my dues to the demanding exercise god in the basement, I showered and we sat down to enjoy dinner together. She brought up the “surprise” again. I asked her what she was referring to. Grinning ear to ear, she wanted to know how I liked the picture she sent me while I was at work. We do that from time to time – send a silly (and sometimes naughty) picture to each other. It’s a playful thing. I told her I did not receive anything while at work. “Well, you replied to it.”, she told me. What? I replied to nothing! I asked what picture she thought she sent me. “The picture of you bending over in a miniskirt.”, she says followed by a giggle. Naa – she didn’t do that. I checked my phone and there were no picture new messages. She’s joking, right? I looked at her phone’s sent items and there it was – the picture of me bending over just like she said.

Ok, why didn’t I receive it? I took a closer look. Oh look lookie at that, she typed in the WRONG phone number. Oh oh! Wait a minute… didn’t she say that I replied to the picture message? Sure enough – whoever it was she sent the picture to did in fact reply with: “Who is this?” Mrs. H. thought it was just me joking with my response, but that was not me… that was not my phone number!

My face was not visible in the picture, but did the recipient realize it was a picture of a crossdressing guy? Was the recipient male or female? Are they going to keep texting until they find out who it is? What if they start calling her phone?

There was nothing I could do about it. My butt was out there… literally. I was a feeling a bit exposed at first, but we both got a good laugh out of it. Some stranger out there has a picture of my booty on their phone. Guess I’ll never know if they thought it was cute or not. I wonder if they have a blog and wrote about some mysterious butt-photo they received from a stranger? lol

Did you ever accidentally send a private photo to the wrong phone or e-mail? Perhaps your significant other did on your behalf? Tell me about it. :)

 
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