This is an autobiographical work of non-fiction. Everything described here, in its detail, is true. Maybe one of the three people involved is reading this and recognizing themselves. If so, I'm sorry I lied to you. Drop me a line. To everyone else, enjoy. It's not the adventures some who are braver have had, but it was a thrill for me.

 

Buying Water As A Girl, Or My First Public Outing

by Ashlee

 

I sat in the car, breathing a little heavily, staring out the windshield at the Dunkin' Donuts in whose parking lot I'd just parked. It was dark, ten pm. Recent warm weather had eased, and you could see your breath, through the occasional raindrop. Weather, was the least of my concerns tonight. I'd been dressing for some twelve years now, told many friends, to almost universal support. The last couple of months, I even go in the habit of going for evening walks dressed entirely in women's clothing. Even hit an ATM three weeks ago, amid much trembling. But I'd never set out to meet someone, until tonight.

Part of the reason I was worried is that I was in no way 'passable'. I'm a big enough guy, never bought a great wig. Frankly, I hadn't invested in being passable the way one must, with shaving or dyeing body hair, toning, etc. What's more, I was expected at some friends' a little later on, and was prepared to do a quick change with some regular clothing that I'd brought with me. Consequently, I had only the most superficial and easily removed makeup. The other reason is that my 'femme persona' was a little younger than me. A young teenager, 14ish - flirty, silly, gossipy. Not much upstairs, and obsessed with being cute. I can fake being a biologist, caring about American Idol, even liking my former boss, but nobody would believe on sight that I was 14. Or a girl.

Nevertheless, my femme side is what it is, so I was dressed for that age. In something rare for me, I was wearing only clothing and accessories made for the opposite sex. For those not interested in extreme clothing detail, please skip ahead. Starting from the inside out, I had on a green thong that said 'PREP' on the front in pink capital letters, and a cotton candy pink bra on. Some people are surprised that I don't go for the ultra-feminine apparel, but girls don't spend all their time in skirts either. Thus, I had on a pair of camouflage-pattern capri pants with ties at the bottom of the legs and the waist. They were exploding with bronze pockets and jangling zippers. The top two inches of these low-risers were coated with lines of gold sequins, so clearly not a made-for-male pair of pants. I was also wearing some pink flip-flops that made the satisfying sound as I moved.

Up top, I was a little more adventurous. I'd struggled with different shirts - I almost wore a new white one that simply had the words 'buy me things' in big pink script, or my classic 'I make good boys bad'. In the end, though, I chose a light pink shirt, sheer enough to show the bra's outline, with the Barbie logo in deep pink foil on the front. It stopped just short of my waist, so the pants' sequins boldly flashed. I topped that with a very small cutoff denim vest that frankly looks fashionable yet silly and mainly serves to emphasize my chest, such as it was. I was wearing numerous white and pink rubber bracelets with 'rebel' and 'fabulous' printed on them, and my overloaded charm bracelet, from which dangled opinions like 'dorks love me' and 'I live 2 cheer'. The bracelet makes a satisfying racket every time I move my hand. Finally, a cheerleader necklace with a megaphone charm, a pink sequined skull cap topped with a backwards pink trucker Dickies baseball cap. I looked in the mirror as I reapplied my frosted pink lipstick, then off I went. I was somewhat satisfied - I looked trendy but not pretty, which is what I go for often.

Leaving the car, I grabbed two items - a "purse" which I'd made from a furry pink wallet with a length of ribbon for a shoulder strap, and a one-time use camera. I took a breath, and opened the door, right before 10pm, closing time.

And the store was empty, or so I thought. I grabbed a bottle of water and waited. Somewhat petrified.

Eventually, a girl in her mid-twenties turned the corner. My, er, unorthodox appearance had clearly caught her eye, but she soldiered on. She had the Dunkin' uniform on, and looked like she went to the local college. A little tired from a joe job, but perky enough, it felt.

"Can I, um help you?" she asked. Clearly had decided to pretend that I didn't look unusual.

I had my story ready - I certainly wasn't going to admit that this was all my idea! "Yeah, I lost a bet with my little sister, so she's making me buy her a bottle of water dressed like this." I held up the camera - "and I'm supposed to ask if you'd take a picture of me in here to prove that I really did it."

At this time, a young guy, probably in his late teens, appeared behind the counter, not even trying to hide his grin. He seemed a little sacred (maybe I was insane!!) but intrigued. For his benefit, I repeated my explanation as the girl reopened the cash register for the strangest sale of the night. I decided to be daring and added that I had bet that the Red Sox would do worse than they were so far this season. Given that I was 20 miles away from Boston, I figured things would be more interesting if I let slip that I was a Yankees fan. I was getting what I deserved.

I was right. I was given the water and the change, which I put back into my purse. Then I raised the camera, and repeated that I had to have a photo to 'prove' I was there. I really should have brought my digital. The girl was all set, smiling broadly now, but the guy jumped in: "hold on. I don't know if we want to do this Yankees fan any favors." He had a glimmer in his eye, and it was all in good fun. Naturally at my expense.

"You're right," she agreed, all thoughtful suddenly. "Maybe we should just let him suffer what his sister will do" she confirmed. Naturally, I was delighted at the prolonged subjection, but made to protest gently that I'd suffered enough. The counter help were really enjoying my predicament, and were tossing out wilder and wilder ideas. "He should get us something from McDonald's first! Or maybe buy a Red Sox hat, a nice pink one!" I was thrilled and terrified.

Eventually, they came down to having me blow a kiss at the camera. I adopted the humiliating post, the flash went off, and I offered my thanks and apologies, before arriving at my car, trembling with relief, excitement, and nerves. I was a little disappointed, but what did I expect? To be brought back and made the centerpiece of a party?

In fact, it had gone so well at the donut place that my bravery grew three sized that day. Not really, but I did feel like celebrating. I decided to take a walk along this suburban highway. Most of the businesses were closed, but there was frequent traffic, it being a Saturday night and near a college. The roadway was well-lit. I parked about a third of a mile from a soda machine in front of a closed barbershop, and for the heck of it, even got out some handcuffs. I put the key in my pocket and set off, a walking humiliation of silly, helpless teen fashion.

I walked on the side of the road, there being no sidewalks. Cars went by me, most occupants entirely concerned about themselves and the road. One sports car didn't, though. Much to my chagrin and vulnerability, the car passed me, turned around, slowed for a second pass, and honked the horn. I admit I simply froze as he drove on. Eventually, I calmed down, and figured I'd be a little more assertive next time he passed. Of course, it had passed my mind that I'd been recognized ten miles from my home, but I doubted it. Who could tell it was me? Sadly, we never returned.

I arrived at the soda machine, wrestled with the change, got the soda, and set off for the awkward yet triumphant walk back, holding the can in my two cuffed hands. I wondered - could people tell that I was cuffed? I could get out of them soon enough. What if a police car drove by?

I arrived back, had a well-deserved drink, and deflated. I re-masculinzed myself, and had a normal night. Strange though - I remember not long ago being thrilled with wearing a gender-neutral, but women's department, bracelet in public. Convinced that everyone knew. Now, I was tarted up like a young bubblehead. The thrill keeps getting more intense, but it takes more to get there.

 

Postscript: That's my story. It has not been easy to push myself like this, as I am generally a submissive. Like a lot of people in my position, I wonder what would happen if I did find someone to encourage me, but I don't need to wallow in self-pity. The thrills continue. As a matter of fact, I'm thinking of some more ideas - there's a store around that does makeovers and photo shoots for younger clients. Maybe I can call and inquire about a session there as part of a frat scavenger hunt. Also, a photo shoot on an empty football field in my cheer gear. And more water.

I'd love to hear your ideas and reactions. I'm pretty good at replying. Email me. totalgirliegirl at lycos dot com Thanks for reading!

  

  

  

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