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A Story in Passing

This article was written by Christine Parker (#704)

Over the years I have worked hard on developing a more natural and realistic appearance as a woman, so that I can go out into the world with confidence. Growing my hair and abandoning the need for a wig was a big step, but I was left with the usual problem of a male receding hairline. I finally worked out a way to attach an artificial fringe that matched my real hair as yet another small step towards a better femme look.

Occasionally I get the opportunity to go out dressed, especially on Sunday mornings. Westfield Tuggerah is far enough away from home to reduce the chances of running into someone I know. On this occasion, I went out with no real plans to buy anything. However, I had a very interesting and rather amusing experience.

I was walking along the central concourse when this guy selling beauty products (exfoliants, moisturisers and hand & foot lotions) said to me, in a friendly manner, "Why are you so tall?"

"Whoops", I thought, "I've been read!"

However, he was a remarkably short man, no more than 5 foot tall, about 30, with a thick Israeli accent.

"Maybe it is because I am so short", he joked, and then started into his sales pitch.

Normally, I just smile and say "No thanks" and keep walking, but on this occasion I was feeling good and confident about my appearance, so I thought "Why not?"

He got me to sit on a tall stool and began demonstrating the products, while chatting and asking me my name, whether I was married, had kids, all the usual stuff. I was starting to think that maybe he might not have read me after all. He then commented that I was still taller than him even when I was sitting down. I replied that there was a reason for that... I was a cross-dresser. His English was a bit limited and he did not know what I meant. So I leant forward and whispered, "I am a man". He was flabbergasted and could not believe it. He appeared to have been genuinely unaware that I was not a woman. He was amazed and asked me lots of questions as he continued his sales pitch. He could see that my hair (well most of it) was real and asked about the rest of me.

I must say that my femme voice was working reasonably well that day. That is usually the big giveaway. Anyway, I ended up buying some of his products... they did make my skin feel great, and my heels desperately needed work. As we finished, he commented that I had made his day. He had certainly made mine. I strolled off with a greater level of confidence than I had started the day. I usually get read once or twice when I go out usually by teenage girls, but on this occasion, I did not get read close-up and talking.

As I walked away, I noticed that he had a female workmate who looked in our direction and I was sure that he would tell what had just happened. I imagined her reply to be something like: "What? Didn't you realize that was a guy?"

How I looked that day.

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