Greer's Ramblings

The Primrose, April 2010

You will recall from last month that our heroine (that would be moi) was left alone for a weekend late in February with cash, credit cards, and no significant chores to be done. We join Greer on Friday as she slips out of work (a bit early) and slips into something much more comfortable. Let the games begin!

As a loyal and faithful reader of The Primrose, I am certain that you will have noticed a certain inclination on my part to push our friend Sarah out of the nest and into the big world. Fly Sarah, fly! This of course is done with only the most pure and honest intentions. I want to help her to be the woman she was meant to be. I certainly take no pleasure in her discomfort or those looks that still say “what am I doing!” Hmm. You’re right. What a crock. I love it! Fortunately, I know she does too! Ha ha ha!!! (she laughed with a maniacal cackle). Sorry, back to business.

My Friday evening festivities were to be shared with the aforementioned Sarah, as well as two other ladies who are both officers of CGS, as well as being fun, stylish, and very special to me, Jackie and Christine. And what better way to start the weekend than with a manicure. So, we all met at ASHA spa/salon at the Streets of Woodfield. Sarah and I arrived together so I was able to appreciate the fun of strolling past the Legoland Discovery Center. Sarah declined my suggestion that we go in and browse, saying that we would be late for our appointments. Maybe next time.
None of us had been in this salon before, and I am happy to report that we were treated wonderfully from the moment we arrived. The spa/salon itself is on the second floor, and we were directed up a flight of stairs from the ground floor shop area (there is also an elevator if needed). We were checked in with warm smiles and gracious hospitality. Our coats were taken, we were offered drinks, and warm neck pillows were brought to us. We were in heaven and we were still in the waiting area! I noted a pleasant smile or two from the other ladies who were waiting, but mostly everyone was quietly relaxing.

After a few minutes, Sarah and I were ushered into the spa manicure area. Christine arrived shortly after that. Jackie had decided that her nails were already beautiful, and she would join us a bit later. Our first critical moment arrived, deciding on nail colors. Argh! Hundreds of colors on a wall. How to choose? I admit freely that I choked and asked my manicurist to help me decide. Her pick was a dark chocolate color that I never would have picked on my own, but that looked very modern. The next day I discovered that when I held my manicured hands underwater in the spa, the color would flash red. Very cool! But I am getting ahead of myself.

Before the manicures really got started, I messed up the seating arrangements by asking to have one nail extension added to make up for a nail I had broken earlier that day (curses!). Naturally the only manicurist who could glue on an extension was just getting started on Sarah, but the switch was made and the manicures moved into high gear.

As we were finishing up at the spa/salon, Jackie arrived to complete our little group for the evening. We got into my car and headed to The Melting Pot (Golf Road in Schaumburg) where we had reservations for a fondue dinner.

Upon entering the restaurant, we were warmly greeted by a delightfully friendly and fun hostess who we later learned was named Nina. I should also mention that Nina is petite and adorable and uber supportive (because of the latter, I shall forgive her the former).

In making our reservation, I had requested a booth since these looked quite cozy on their web site. We were told that there was indeed a booth available for us, but that is was next to a large group that included a number of 13-year-old girls. Looking around the restaurant, I could see that the booths were angled in such a way that being near this group should not be a problem so we followed her to the offered location. It turned out that the booth was not in the rather open and expansive area that I saw from the front and on the website. Instead, it was in an adjoining room that was more traditionally laid out and more confined. Before we even ordered drinks, it was apparent that the noise from the group next to us (13 year-old-girls can be loud!) was going to make it difficult for us to chat.

Nina was most understanding, and we were quickly moved to a table in front of the fireplace in the main room of the restaurant. I should also mention that this table would probably be much in demand by the “A List” types who want to be noticed. Definitely not the table for anyone who wants to be unobtrusive and unnoticed. Yet another “OMG” moment for Sarah. Nevertheless, it was comfortable and permitted conversation, and it came with a wonderful waiter named Nick.

To understand how special Nick was, you need to have a little understanding of the menu at The Melting Pot. It contains many variations, but the “standard” dinner consists of an appetizer cheese fondue, a salad, a main course fondue, and a dessert fondue. The variations are almost endless when you consider the different cheese combinations for the appetizer, the various salads, the different oils to be used for cooking your main course, which is in turn selected from a wide range of meats, fish and vegetables. Finally, there are several choices for the dessert which all sound decadent and delightful. Just to add to the complexity, you are also free to order individual courses rather than working with the options of the 4-course meal.

Nick carefully walked us through the menu options (several times) and was extremely patient as we slowly managed to figure out what we wanted. By the way, did I mention that he was also a very handsome young man? Unfortunately, he ended up taking pictures of our group, but I never managed to get him in one of the photos. Darn. We ended up spending almost 3 hours lingering over the dinner. Nick and Nina both spent time with us, and that helped to make the experience very special.

Before we move on, I will note that everything at The Melting Pot was excellent, but it is not cheap. Our bill averaged a bit over $50 per person. That puts it into the special occasion category for me. However, they also have a small bar at the front, and Nina tells me that they would love to have us drop in and have drinks whenever we are in the neighborhood. Nina generally works Thursday, Friday and Saturday night, and we just might see her visiting some of our events in the future.

To close out our evening, Christine, Sarah and I went to the Hyatt for a nightcap. (I guess Jackie had a better offer elsewhere ;-) The place was pretty busy, and this led to a bit of a lesson for Sarah and me. Before heading to the bar, all three of us stopped at the ladies room near the elevators. One of the two stalls was occupied and Christine utilized the other. Sarah and I were in mid-conversation (about something very weighty I am sure), and neither of us were making any attempt to keep our voices in femme mode. We quickly heard a voice from the first stall say, “am I in the wrong restroom?” I assured her that she was not, and then we beat a retreat to the lobby to wait for Christine. I felt stupid and insensitive. Lesson learned.

For my big Saturday night excursion, I had been working on gathering a group to hit a hot spot or two or three. If I had consulted the calendar more thoroughly, I would have realized that it was the night of the Tri-Ess meeting including their “Queen of Hearts” pageant, and that many of the girls would be unavailable as a result. Anyway, the plan was to meet at the Hideaway, and then later decide whether to move to another venue. As of Saturday my only confirmed companion was my friend Terri. Two other friends, Jackie M and Laura, were going to try to meet us after the Tri-Ess meeting, and Dee from Quincy was going to be in town and would also try to meet us.

My only previous visit to the Hideaway had been on a weeknight, so I had no idea what the place would be like on a Saturday. I picked Terry up from her home and we ended up meeting Dee outside. As it was only about 7:30, the downstairs bar was not real busy, and the upstairs was not yet open. We settled in at a little table and enjoyed the ability to chat without yelling over loud music.

We soon met Steve. He works at the bar and does some drag performances, although that night he was not performing. He invited us to enjoy the food that had been laid out in the pool table area. Steve was very nice and personable, and I was sorry that he was just heading home. We tried some of the food and found it to be very good. The caterer dropped by our table later to introduce herself, and I am chagrined to find that I have lost her card and her name entirely escapes me. Anyway, we had a nice chat with her before she too had to depart herself. It seems it was her anniversary and she thought she should spend some of the evening with her husband. Go figure.

At about 10:00 we relocated to the upstairs bar. In this area the atmosphere was quite different. The music was louder, so casual conversation required more volume and hand gestures. There was a small, but quite usable, dance floor, and a postage stamp sized stage for the entertainers. The bar itself was more trendy than the neighborhood style featured downstairs. We took a table next to the stairs so that we could observe the comings and goings. By 11:00, the upstairs was crowded with a wide range of people having a good time. Male dancers in scanty attire were working the small stage and the dance floor was heating up. Fun times.

I had made arrangements to do lunch and shopping with Sarah on Sunday. To this end, we arranged to meet at Panera around 10:00. The reader may recall that Sarah had avoided actually entering Panera in the past, so I arrived early and went in to prevent any such avoidance this time. I ordered tea for myself and thereby started the first of two minor incidents that would put a small dark cloud over my day and cause me to think again about my femme presentation.

Since it was a Sunday morning and we would be shopping in the Woodfield area, I decided to wear pants for the occasion. I know! My outfit was age appropriate and somewhat sophisticated (Publisher Katie would have been proud). Nevertheless, I thought I looked good and appropriately femme.

After receiving my tea cup, I had to ask for some of the hot water to be poured off so I could add cold water (I am something of a wimp when it comes to hot drinks). The smiling young man was very nice and did as I requested. It was then that he said (are you ready for it?), “Is that OK sir?” Argggh! With no prompting (other than the crestfallen look on my face), he quickly added, “I mean ma’am”. I think I managed a smile and a non-sarcastic “thank-you”, but the damage was done.

When Sarah arrived, she was understanding and supportive, and we went about our shopping, including visits to Nordstrom Rack and into the hallowed halls of Woodfield Mall itself. When lunchtime arrived, we decided to try Ted’s Montana Grill. As I am already over my allotted space, I will not describe our journey to the restaurant. Suffice it to say that our destination was only about 1 block away, but our route was about 15 miles. Remember, when using a GPS device, always perform a reality check.

After our invigorating drive to Palatine and back, we found the restaurant to be quiet and sparsely occupied. We were immediately seated in one of their booths that are very nice for chatting. When our server introduced himself in a businesslike, but not particularly friendly way, I noticed that he did not have the smile in his eyes that tells me that light-hearted banter is likely to ensue. And then it came time to take my order. “What would you like sir?” Egad! Twice in one day? Really? The reality of what came next may never be known for sure. In my head, I saw myself slap the little creep, but what I recall coming out of my mouth was “please don’t call me sir.” Sarah remembers me saying “you may call me ma’am”. Whatever. Damage done.

Looking back on that day, I was a bit surprised at how unhappy those two “sir” incidents made me. Anyone who cares to listen has probably heard me say that when I am out and about, I do not expect to pass. I realized that what I really look for is acceptance. On Friday, Nina and Nick at The Melting Pot knew that I was trans, but they accepted my presentation and treated me accordingly. The servers on Sunday might have just had a slip of the tongue. Heck, I have done it myself. Or, for any number of reasons, they might have rejected my presentation. Whatever the reason, it did make me sad, not because I failed to pass, but because I was not accepted as I was presenting. And really, that is going to happen isn’t it?

So it is time to revise my expectations a bit. I will still not expect to pass, but I will strive to not be disappointed if I am not happily accepted by everyone I encounter in the real world. And most importantly, I will cherish those very special people who do more than just accept, those who support and encourage and rejoice in all the things that make us who we are.

*****
Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com.

Greer's Ramblings

The Primrose, March 2010


February will go down in my personal records as a really great month. OK, there were the snow storms, and some football team lost in that big game they have every year that interrupts the great commercials, and the economy is still struggling to make a comeback, and Congress is still filled with politicians, and all that other negative stuff. But hey, I managed to have some fun times anyway, and it all started with a rare “three nights out” week.

I started the month and the week by having dinner with Kathy, formerly of Tall Girl Shops. She is now managing one of the duty free shops at O’Hare. Before you ask, no, she cannot get you any duty free Scotch (I already asked). Unfortunately her Dad is having severe health problems, so she has been spending much time in Virginia with him. In addition, her computer is sick, so she has been unable to respond to emails. Nevertheless, she asked to be remembered to everyone in the community, and she hopes to make it to one of our events in the near future.
I should mention that Kathy and I had dinner at TGI Fridays. The drink special was a Cosmopolitan poured over a glass full of cotton candy. As you might expect, it was on the sweet side, but I am now officially a Cosmo girl. By the way, TGIF has a delightful bar guide you might want to check out (http://www.tgifridays.com/theBar/theBar.aspx). In particular, go to the “Girl’s Night Out” section. The “do’s and don’ts” are cute and they do seem to apply.

The very next night, it was time to again do my part to push our new friend Sarah out of the comfort of her closet. Once again, we met in the parking lot of a convenient Panera shop. Next time, I am going to march her in the front door, even if she is wearing clubwear (in this case, a delightful black, leather miniskirt). Our assignment for the evening was to reconnoiter the Hideaway in Park Forest and the Velvet Rope in Oak Park. Our first stop, the Hideaway.
Fortunately, I had done a bit of research in advance, so I knew that the Hideaway was difficult to see. It sits right at the corner of Roosevelt Road and Marengo Avenue, but there are no big signs and no bright lights to point the way. So just plan to turn north on Marengo from Roosevelt, and the Hideaway will be right there (or left there, whatever). Now when you turn onto Marengo, you might notice something that I found to be rather perplexing. At this point, Marengo is marked as a one-way street heading north. Half a block north there is an alley running east and west. At that point, you will also encounter something very strange. Signs on both sides of the street, facing you as you drive north on the one-way street say, “Do not enter, one way”. That’s right, after the alley, Marengo apparently is a one-way street heading south. Since Sarah and I were both wearing short skirts (you did not think I would let her outdo me in that regard did you?) and the breeze was rather chilly (ooh, delightful), we chose not to investigate further. But I will have to check next time to see if southbound drivers encounter similar signs also warning them not to proceed on pain of head-on collision. Ultimately, it seems that all drivers are required to turn down the alley to escape this particular trap.

Approaching the doors, the Hideaway looks very much like a tavern that closed down in the recent past. No sign identifies the place, except for the address. Intrepid adventurers that we are, we did not let this slow us down. We stepped around the snow and whisked open the doors. First impression; this is the kind of place where everyone turns around to see who just walked in the door. Gulp, I hope we are in the right place. Yes, the bartender smiles, the admirer sitting at the bar smiles, and the t-girl sitting with him sort of grimaces (in fairness, she had obviously been taking her medication to ward off the February chill, and we were probably a bit blurry to her). We say hello and work our way to the far end of the bar and find a nice high-top table. We remove our coats and take our places on stools, maneuvering to show our legs to best advantage (tee hee).

As we look around, we find the surroundings to be nice, but along the lines of a neighborhood tavern. More beer and pretzels than wine and cheese. However, the advantage was soon evident in the bar tab. Two G&Ts (that’s gin and tonic to you) were only $3.50. Yes, that was $3.50 for both, not for each one. A very nice deal! I understand that there is a second floor with music and dancing on certain nights, but it was not open the night we visited.

As we began to sip our drinks, we were approached by an admirer that I will call Tom (because that was his name). He had apparently grown tired of the overmedicated lady at the end of the bar, and decided to try his luck with us. Now I will freely admit that I enjoy the attentions of a nice admirer. But in this case, I could see that Sarah clearly was not truly prepared for this aspect of her delightfully feminine and attractive presentation. So, being the caring and compassionate friend that I am, one who is always sensitive and attentive to the needs of those around me, I engaged Tom in conversation and thereby encouraged him to continue to hang around. I could tell that this pleased Sarah by the way she smiled through clenched teeth and her knuckles turned white where she gripped the edge of the table.

After we finished our drink, it was time to move to our second target for the evening, the Velvet Rope. We announced that it was time for us to move along, I “accidentally” mentioned where we were going. Our new friend Tom asked if he could meet us there. In spite of Sarah’s sad, puppy dog eyes, I told him that would be fine (I do have a bit of a sadistic streak). Tom walked us out to our car, then jumped in his own and sped away. Somewhat more sedately, we drove the few miles to Oak Park.

The Velvet Rope is located on Lake Street in Oak Park. It is not a large club, but definitely a bit more elegant and sophisticated than the Hideaway (also more pricey). Being a Tuesday night, there was not a great deal of activity, but there was Ce-Ce! She was a delightful lady who assumed the double role of beautiful server and talented entertainer. Apparently a show was not scheduled, but when we expressed a desire to see her perform, she did so with great style.

We thought that Tom had decided against joining us, but about the time my Cosmo arrived and our appetizers appeared, in he walked. The dear boy had apparently interpreted Sarah’s frosty reception correctly, so he chose to stand next to me at our little high-top table. The high-top table and our stools were still good for showing our legs, and they also made it practical for Tom to “accidentally” touch my thigh now and then. Before very long, Tom suddenly remembered he had to go home immediately, and off he went. It was nice of him to pay for a round of drinks, but I wonder just what it was he had to do when he got home? While we did not visit either the Hideaway or the Velvet Rope on a busy night, they were both felt very comfortable and welcoming. I would recommend either one as a night-out destination.

The final night of my hat-trick week was the night of our fledgling support group meeting. Following our meeting, five of us headed out to the Rock Bottom Brewing Company for a nightcap and some additional conversation. There we renewed our acquaintance with the delightful Brigitta who had been our server on a previous version, and we met the wonderful Tanya who had the dubious honor of being our server this time. While some of the group amused themselves by arguing about health care in the United States (I refuse to comment), Brigitta and I considered the likelihood that at least one other person in the establishment was a TG girl in hiding. We did not see any obvious candidates, but I know she was there somewhere (and probably wishing she could join us)!

During the second week of February my only “heel time” (thank you to gorgeous Lowla Valentine for that lovely descriptive phrase) was for the CGS business meeting. That was the meeting where I risked life and limb to drive through a winter weather warning so I could hear the program on voice and participate in the board nominations. Whoops! Program cancelled due to weather. Nominations extended until March due to weather. Oh well, it was still more fun than studying.

The third week of the month managed to eclipse the first week in terms of fun, adventure, and total heel time. Tuesday was the Transformations T-party, with the jet-set Rori in attendance along with the gorgeous Lisa. As usual, they were marvelous hostesses and ensured that everyone had fun. There was a good group, with many red outfits and lips in evidence. I managed to shock Christine by actually ordering an alcoholic beverage (a cosmo, my new favorite girl drink of course).

The weekend turned out to be something very special. My wonderful spouse had to fly to California for a few days, leaving me with the whole weekend to play that exciting reality show, “Unsupervised T-Girl With A Credit Card!” Due to the cruel and unrelenting deadlines and column size imposed by my editor and publisher (they are beautiful, but very mean), details of my weekend adventures (if suitable for the refined tastes of the typical Primrose reader) will have to wait until next month. For now, I will just say that good times were had Friday and Saturday nights, along with Sunday afternoon.

The only heel time I have scheduled for the final week February is the CGS social. that will make a total of 9 days during the month where I was able to slip on my heels and spread my t-girl wings. I know, this is probably nothing special to our sisters and brothers who live full-time, or nearly so. But speaking for those of us for whom being full-time is not in the cards, it is wonderful to be able to be out and about and feeling complete! My thanks to all of you for making up this wonderful community that makes this happiness possible.
Big hugs to all of you!

*****
Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com.

Greer's Ramblings

The Primrose, February 2010

I want to tell you all about a great evening I had recently. But before I can do that, I have to introduce you to my friend Sarah. Now some of you met Sarah at the January CGS meeting. You might recall her English accent (yup, not Australian, not Irish, and not South African) and her oh so English habit of ordering Gin and Tonic with a lemon rather than lime. That was her first CGS meeting, and her first time out in public as Sarah. We all remember that thrilling terror that went with the first steps out of the closet and out the door, and one of these days, Sarah will write and tell us how she felt that first night out, but my story is about her second night out.
Following the CGS meeting, Sarah and I had corresponded about going out early in February. I suggested that we check out the Velvet Rope or the Hideaway. Sarah was anxious to spread her wings, but falling naturally into her new role, she bemoaned her lack of anything to wear. Well it happened that my plans for a Thursday evening fell apart the day before. I asked Sarah if she would be free, and if she would like to take the opportunity to do a little shopping the next evening. She was indeed interested and available, so our plans were made.
Now dear reader, you must try to understand what occurred in my mind and hers. I certainly had no intention of the two of us going forth in drab to pretend to be buying things for our delightfully feminine significant others. Heaven forbid! Of course our Sarah had never considered any other way at this very early stage of her introduction to life in the trans lane. The poor thing. She slept peacefully that Wednesday night, never guessing what it might mean that Greer had entered her life.
On Thursday, I contacted Sarah to coordinate what we were going to wear. The weather was dicey enough that I even considered the option of wearing pants (the spells come over me now and then, but I usual snap out of them in time). Sarah somewhat weakly granted that I was welcome to dress, but that she planned to go in boy-mode. “What?!?!”, said I. “How can you possibly do that? Ridiculous! Silly girl!” That is not what I really said of course, but I did strongly suggest that she should take advantage of the opportunity. She somewhat grimly agreed to try, and we agreed on long skirts. As it happened, she did not have any femme pants, and I certainly was not going to wear pants while she was in a skirt.
We met in a Panera parking lot. True to her word, Sarah was wearing a nice long skirt and heels. She looked good, but definitely nervous. As she got settled into my car, she kept saying, “I can’t believe I’m doing this!” When I inquired if she had any preference about where to go shopping, her only suggestion was someplace where the lights are dim and there are few people. I told her that there is no such place for shopping, so we would start at my favorite place for affordable clothes, Target!
Throughout the short drive that followed, she kept interspersing her comments about not believing she was doing this with whispered hopes that no one would be there and that maybe the store would be closed. No such luck of course. The store was open, the lights were all on, and the parking lot had lots and lots of cars. I ignored Sarah’s last ditch attempt to avoid the inevitable when she offered to wait in the car. With a final “I can’t believe I’m doing this”, she got out of the car and joined me for the long walk to the front door.
I suspect that Sarah was half expecting to be immediately arrested upon entering the store, charged with being a deviant English person (is that redundant?). When no such thing happened, she relaxed a little. We first looked at purses, but quickly decided to move into the clothing area. There I introduced her to the clearance racks. Yes, the wonderful clearance racks. Toward the front, 30% off, then moving deeper into the land of feminine fashion, 40% and 50% off. Then deep in the heart of no-man’s land, the 75% off racks. Ah, so sweet!
Poor Sarah was being a bit shy about taking things off the rack, so I found her a skirt that looked short enough to be interesting (is anyone surprised that is what I picked up first?), and then I told her we needed to find a top that she could try on with it. “Oh no,” she said. “I am not going to try these on here!” Silly thing. She still did not understand.
We wandered through the department, rather like bees going from flower to flower in search of sweet nectar. Actually not like that at all, but we did wander all around. Sarah found some tops she thought might be nice, and I picked up a couple of skirts to try (same style, one in 14 and one in 16, I have gained weight). Sarah was still saying she would just buy the things and try them at home. “Oh pshaw”, I exclaimed, and marched toward the fitting rooms. Sarah tried to hold back, but I waved her on.
As an aside, for those of you that are not familiar with Target, they normally station an employee (sales clerk? associate? team member?) at a desk at the entrance to the fitting rooms. Customers are issued a plastic tag with a number indicating how many items they are taking into the fitting room with them. As luck would have it, just before we moved into the area, the employee went back into the fitting room area to help another customer. Sarah seized the opportunity and grabbed a tag with a “4” on it that someone had left on the counter. As this happened to be the number of items she had, she took her purloined tag and entered the nearest open fitting room. Being a stickler for the rules, I waited for the return of the employee to get my “2” tag before entering another fitting room.
While I was pleased that the size 14 skirt fit, I was not taken with the look so I surrendered my items when I emerged from the fitting room. Happily, Sarah was pleased with all of her choices, including the skirt that I picked for her. We spent few minutes checking out shoes, but nothing looked good. So we were off to the checkout area. About this time, it occurred to Sarah that Target probably was not going to give her the clothes just for the having the courage to come in and try them. She asked if they had a self-check aisle, but no such luck. Then she pondered using cash rather than using a credit card with her “other” name. She ultimately used the card, and the checker thanked us without ever really looking at us.
Our next stop was Ulta. It was getting late, so the assistance we received was somewhat half-hearted, but Sarah managed to end up with a basket full of essential make-up items. At the cash register I forced the cashier to engage us a little by commenting on the photo of the blonde with the blue eyes. Have you seen that picture? Her eyes are amazing!
We then made a quick trip into PayLess Shoes. As we entered, the clerk informed us that their “buy one, get one half off sale” was going on, and that the store would be closing in 5 minutes. We failed to find anything of interest so we left after a few minutes.
By that time, Sarah had stopped muttering “I can’t believe I’m doing this”, and she was fairly relaxed. Of course that all returned when I suggested that we stop somewhere for a drink. The muttering got louder as I marched her into the lobby of the Hyatt and onto a stool at the bar. By the way, for those who haven’t been back since the 2008 Be-All, they have moved the bar from the center of the lobby over to the front of the restaurant, where the coffee bar used to be.
We sat at the bar for an hour or so and had a wonderful chat. The bartenders were very nice, and the 7 or 8 other patrons (all guys) pretty much ignored us (too bad). Much too soon, the fact of early rising the next morning forced us to bring our evening to a close.
I know that the whole experience was special for Sarah, but I am the one who was truly enriched. I have been blessed by the help and kindness and friendship that has been given to me over the last few years by many members of the trans community. These great people have helped me to become comfortable with myself and my place in the world. Now it is a truly wonderful feeling to be able to (try to) fill the role of big sister, and help a new friend spread her wings. It is a joy and an honor. Thank you Sarah.
*****
Back in June, my family and I took in a hilarious production called “Poseidon! An Upside Down Musical” that was staged by Hell in a Handbag Productions. Having thoroughly enjoyed that one, we went to see their production of “Rudolph the Red Hosed Reindeer” in December. We laughed ourselves silly. Next time I think I will see about getting together a theater party. Anyone interested? Check out the website at http://www.handbagproductions.org/.

*****Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com.

Greer's Ramblings

The Primrose, January 2010

Happy New Year! Last year I started off by actually listing some resolutions. Just for fun, let’s see how I did on those:

1. Go on a diet/lose weight – Unless gaining weight counts, I don’t think I lived up to this one.
2. Always take purse out of car before locking it – I came close a time or two, but this one was a success. No late night meetings with the nice man from the Auto Club.
3. Go to new places while dressed – I had some success here. I suppose the ultimate was my visit to the DMV, but I also visited grocery stores, restaurants, night clubs and had my first pedicure/manicure at a salon.
4. Improve femme voice – I did work on this a bit, but I still have a long way to go.
5. Organize closet/drawers – Very little change here. I identified a few things to be sold or given away, but they are still taking up space in the closet.
6. Win a large lottery – Sadly no. Would my odds improve if I actually bought a ticket?

I don’t think I am going to make any resolutions this year, but I will try to continue to do the things that felt right in 2009:

1. Enjoy being myself.
2. Make new friends (but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold – sorry, I am a lifetime member of Girl Scouts).
3. Do what I can to help others on their own journeys of discovery.
4. Show off my legs at every opportunity.

*****
In my December column, I started a story like this, “There once was a person. Sometimes he was a boy, and sometimes she was a girl.” We left as the person was anticipating a party where his friends would meet her friends.
There were some other important people in the person’s life. There was a spouse. She was always a girl. She did not really understand the person, and she did not particularly like it when the person was a girl. But she did love the person, and she knew that it made the person happy to be a girl sometimes. So she did not spend time with the person when she was a girl, but she encouraged the person to go out and be with her girl-friends.
There was also a child. This was a grown-up child who was also always a girl. She loved the person too. She also did not really understand, but she was supportive, said she was proud of the person, and even went out with the person at times when she was a girl. This made the person very happy and very proud of the child.
For several years, the little family had a party to celebrate the special holidays in December. They would invite neighbors, friends of the spouse, and friends of the child. They would also invite friends of the person, but only those who were friends when he was a boy. But this year, the spouse agreed to let the person invite some new people. Some people who were friends of the person when she was a girl. People who also were sometimes boys and sometimes girls.
When the night of the party came, the person was nervous about what might happen. What would his friends think of her friends? What would her friends think of his friends? The person came to the party as a boy. This was from love and respect for the spouse. The neighbors were there. The friends of the spouse were there. The friends of the child were there. And the girl-friends of the person were there too. They came to the party as girls. This was because it made them happy and because it was right for them.
So what do you think happened? It was a party. His friends met her friends, and her friends met his friends. Everyone ate and drank and talked and had a good time. It was a party. Then everyone went home and talked about what a good time they had.
The person was very happy.
*****
Throughout December, I continued to make one particular mistake. I kept neglecting to take my camera out of my purse. This means that there are no photos to spice up my ramblings. Well, perhaps the editorial staff will include the “after-the-fact” photo of my outfit for the CGS Holiday Party. I took that when I arrived home after the party. What you cannot tell from the photo is that my feet were killing me. Those are my feet, at the bottom of my legs, attached to the painted toenails. I did a fair amount of dancing and my shoes just were not right for such activities. They looked good, but they ended up being what Steve Martin called “cruel shoes”.
While I am talking about the Holiday party, I should mention my arrival at said soiree. As it happened, I had enlisted the help of my friend Tom-Tom to get me to the designated country club. Actually Tom-Tom is a GPS with the female voice of Kathy who is actually English. Kathy is very nice while giving driving instructions. She never gets upset when I repeatedly ignore her and take routes of my own choosing. However, she does get it wrong now and then.
As directed by Kathy, I was cruising southeast on highway 12. Kathy informed me that my destination was just ahead on the right. I spotted a sign that said, “Country Club entrance ahead”. Seeing this entrance on the right, as specified by Kathy, I turned into the driveway. The approach to the club was quite beautiful as it wound for a short distance through some trees. I saw that valet parking was being provided, and I decided to avail myself of this service to avoid the necessity of walking to and from the parking lot in the winter cold. A very nice young man took my car keys and bid me a pleasant evening.
I walked into the club to find one couple sitting in the lobby. I smiled at them and looked around for some evidence of where the CGS party was being held. Seeing no signs, I strolled toward voices coming from what appeared to be a dining room. When I reached the door from which the voices were coming, I realized that it was not our group (too many guys wearing pants). I returned to the lobby and found the coat check room. I asked the lady in coat check if she knew where the CGS function was. She had no idea and directed me to the concierge/valet office by the front door. Approaching this office, I saw a sign for the country club. The name on the sign was definitely not what it was supposed to be. Oops.
The same young man who had taken my car was now in the office. I explained that I seemed to be in the wrong place. He very graciously gave me directions to the proper club, brought my car around, and wished me a pleasant evening. He was cute. Too bad he had to work!
The correct venue for the party ended up being very, very nice. It was a beautiful setting and a delightful evening! I sat between Julie (aka The Terminator at the Halloween Extravaganza) and Jill (this time with her gorgeous blonde hair and a killer minidress). The standout dancer of the evening was a hot guy named Rodney. He had much more energy than I did (of course he was only half my age), and he definitely knew his moves. He was even brave enough to suffer through a close dance with me, but I think his feet may never forgive us.
*****
The dance with Rodney (sorry about your feet) reminds me that something I would like to do is to take some dance lessons where I can wear heels and follow. Anyone out there dance foxtrot or tango and interested in leading?
*****
I recently had the good fortune to spend a fun couple of hours at the Rock Bottom Brewery with Lyseth (known to all I am sure) and two newcomers, Jerzi and Sarah. We sat at a table in the bar area and were served by a delightful young woman with the unexpected name of Brigitta (as in Angela Cartwright’s role in Sound of Music). Jerzi and Sarah were both in drab (poor dears), Lyseth was looking stylish as always, and as shocking as it must be to hear, I was showing a good deal of leg in my red sweaterdress. Anyway, after we had chatted a bit with our server, it was obvious that she had seen through our artful presentations and recognized the wonderful people inside. So while Jerzi used the opportunity to hit on the lovely lass (tee hee), I used the opportunity to ask her when she had tumbled to “the truth”. To her great credit (thank you Brigitta), she at least pretended to have taken awhile to see. Ultimately she said it was my voice that convinced her. Not a surprise, but if I am unable to find my voice, perhaps I should take up signing. Actually I already know some sign language, but it is really only appropriate when someone cuts me off while driving.
*****
The December T-Party at Big Shot was not quite as well attended as it was in November, but there were still about 20 girls celebrating the season. There were several ladies making their debuts that night. One of these was Holly with whom I talked at length, and who is now the Transformations December Calendar Girl (check her out at http://www.transformationsbyrori.com/Calendar%20_Girl_12-09.htm).
*****
One of the perks of being a regular contributor to the Primrose is that I get away with writing just about anything that comes to mind (well, there was that one joke about Katie and Tiger Woods that was edited out, but why quibble). Since I am writing this late in December, I would like to offer a couple of year-end personal observations before I release you from this particular trainwreck.
It is both surprising and delightful when I meet people who read my column. Frankly, I am not sure why anyone would want to waste time with my ramblings, but I am grateful to those of you who do so. Thank you!
I feel that I have blossomed as a full person in the last couple of years, and this is due in no small part to the wonderful people of CGS. I am grateful for the warm and caring reception I have received at every function, starting with my very first meeting. I am also grateful for the diversity of backgrounds and lives that mingle freely within CGS. My thanks to all of you for being a part of this very special organization.

If you have spent any time listening to my bragging, you know that my wife is very special to me. She does not understand why I do what I do (who does?), and she really does not like to see me as Greer. But she accepts that I cannot be a full and happy person if I repress this important part of myself. She willingly shares our master bedroom closet with my whole wardrobe including multiple wigs. She does not flinch when our grocery list includes mascara or lipstick for me. For all this (and much more), I am truly blessed and I am very grateful for her love and support.

Recently though, she really went above and beyond the call. I was complaining about the cost of buying a nice winter coat for my femme self, and she volunteered to make one for me. We selected a pattern and went to Vogue fabrics to pick out the material. She modified the pattern a bit to fit my somewhat unusual shape, and then worked for hours to put everything together. The end result is a beautiful grey, wool herringbone coat that is fully lined and wonderful to wear. Thank you my darling!
*****
Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com.

Greer's Ramblings

The Primrose, December 2009

I do not believe that I did it again. I had a whole month to write my little portion of deathless prose for this column. But what did I do? I wait until the day of the deadline. What is wrong with me? I suppose it is the same thing that was wrong with me in school, and that has been wrong with me for my whole life. Hi, my name is Greer. I am a procrastinator. It has been 10 minutes since I last procrastinated. Sigh.
To cut myself a bit of slack, my “Greer-life” has been pretty normal recently. This is probably good in many ways, but I have not been doing much that is new and adventurous and exciting. That of course leads to a lack of new and adventurous and exciting things to write about. Hmm, it sounds like my “Greer-life” is becoming dangerously like what’s-his-name’s life. OMG! Unacceptable! Panic!
What have I done since my last deadline? Well, there was the Halloween Extravaganza, a very disappointing Halloween weekend, my CD support group, CGS business meeting, and the monthly Transformations T-party. Heck, I should be able to make up some interesting stuff about all of that! I will do just that in the next section. But first, there is still this nagging thought that I need to add a bit of “pizzazz” to things.
What I need are some fresh ideas. Ideas for things to do that will be new and adventurous and exciting! Can you help dear reader? Do you have any ideas that you might care to pass along? Send me an email at greercd@hotmail.com. Oh, please do not bother to suggest skydiving or base jumping or any such falling activity. While this might be interesting in a skirt, my fear of heights would fully negate the excitement.
*****
The Halloween Extravaganza, sponsored by Transformations
and Skyscaper Heels, moved to a new venue this year, it was in a motel banquet room, the name of which completely escapes me. Memory issues aside (and I frequently use asides as you know, although it is sometimes better to stay neutral, that is do not pick a side. Sorry), I believe a great time was had by all. My only quibbles were with the food and drink. Apparently the banquet facilities are just getting started so the bar was not yet properly equipped and some basic things were unavailable. As for the food, it was good, but the variety of past years was absent. Enough of my being picky, on with the fun stuff.
You may recall from last month, after much searching and agony, I ended up with a costume called “Sexy Swashbuckler”. Aye mateys, I shoulda been talkin’ like a pirate and making landlubbers walk d’plank. Alas, lacking an appropriate hat, eye patch, parrot and treasure chest, I looked much more like a serving wench than a swashbuckler. And of course that was fine with me! Another flagon of ale sir?
The standout costumes of the night were The Terminator and Nosferatu. Both were excellent costumes and well deserved their first and second place wins in the contest (they were costumes weren’t they?). I entered the contest at the last moment, but the judges sent me around to the servants entrance and then sent me for more drinks when I tried to step onto the stage. I would have been less disappointed if they would have at least pinched my bottom.
Another standout costume that deserves mention was that of our own VP Christine. Apparently having lived for the last year in her correct gender, she thought it would be amusing to come in drag, that is as a guy. In a suit and tie no less. Personally, I found the effect to be rather disorienting and highly confusing. Where was my BFF? Sensing my discomfort, Christine gave me a hug, and I was much better. But next time dear, please go for “Sexy Whatever”. Much less disturbing.


*****
For some months I had planned to get together with a friend from the Twin Cities over the Halloween weekend. She was going to come in Friday and we were going to party all weekend. Unfortunately, she had to cancel because of work. Very disappointing. So I stayed home and passed out candy to adorable little neighborhood children. I realized that some of the younger ones had no idea why their parents were forcing them to take candy from these strangers. Didn’t they always say you shouldn’t do that? Is life always going to be so whimsical?
*****
Early this year, I helped to start a new support group for crossdressers out in the Western burbs. We meet on the first Thursday of each month in Naperville in the offices of a delightful therapist of my acquaintance (she did what she could for me, but I am still crazy). The group has been growing very slowly, but we are making progress. For me it has been a great opportunity to help some new members of the community find their feet (there they are, in those high heels). We have been taking an unstructured approach in our meetings. Mostly we just chat about whatever is on our minds. Of course I always take this as an opportunity to dress in something conservative (don’t want to scare anyone), and attendees are welcome to come in drab or drag as they wish.
If you or someone you know might be interested in joining us, please drop me an email.

*****

I thought I looked pretty sharp for the November CGS business meeting in my black jacket and short black skirt. But Gina showed me up in her “new” outfit of boots and dress from ebay. Alas, Jill put us both to shame in her very “butch” outfit featuring blue jeans, t-shirt, backwards cap, and 5:00 shadow. Ah, what ever happened to the lovely long blonde hair?
The program for the evening featured Karen Heart talking about relationships and communicating. It seems that grunting and swinging a heavy club (watch it!) is no longer the best way to communicate and to foster a good relationship. Nor should we be using those old reliables, guilt and snide comments. Is it really possible that we can get somewhere by being open and telling our significant others what we want? Nah! Sorry Karen, but honesty just can’t be the answer! Where’s the scheming and conniving? The plotting and keeping of score? Can it really work?


*****
The November T-Party was another crowd-
pleaser. Big Shot in Arlington Heights really is a very nice place to meet. Subdued lighting without being dark (or strobing). Pleasant music without being too loud (and with natural pauses between songs). A little dance floor for those so inclined (and a couple were this time). A drink menu that brings joy to every martini drinker in the community (and a couple of nice single malts for the rest of us). But do you know what really makes Big Shot special? Well, on the third Thursday of the month, you can find the nicest (and best looking) group of people there, sitting and standing around the Southwest corner of the room.

*****

The holiday season has arrived. As I write this, it is just a few days before Thanksgiving. Of course that also signals the official start of the shopping season. That wonderful time when even the most shy and closeted of us can buy those special things and pretend they are for the wife or girlfriend. Seriously though, like many of you, this has always been my favorite time of year. The gifts and the parties are fun of course, but what I really like is the way that everyone seems a bit more cheerful, a bit more friendly, a bit more approachable, perhaps even a bit more tolerant. With that in mind, let me tell you a very small story.
There once was a person. Sometimes he was a boy, and sometimes she was a girl. When he was a boy, he had some friends who knew him only as a boy. They would talk and laugh and enjoy life together. When she was a girl, she had some friends who knew her only as a girl. They would talk and laugh and enjoy life together. The person enjoyed all of the friends. But at times, the person was sad. The person didn’t really understand why his friends and her friends couldn’t all be friends together. Why indeed the person thought. So the person decided to bring some of his friends and some of her friends together for a party. They will all have fun and get along together famously, the person said. So the party was planned, and the invitations were sent. But deep inside the person was worried. What if his friends thought her friends were stupid? What if her friends thought his friends were weird? What if all of the friends got mad at the person for having such a bad idea? But on the other hand, what if they really do get along and talk and laugh and enjoy life together? Wouldn’t that be wonderful!
How do you think the story will end? To be continued next month . . .

*****

As we enjoy this special time of year, I am grateful for the gift of friendship. The gift that I have come to share with many of you over the last year or two, and the gift that I hope to share with all of you in the future. Thank you for sharing yourselves with me, and for helping me to enjoy all of who I am.

Hugs,
Greer

Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com.

Greer's Ramblings

The Primrose, November 2009

Deadline! Pressure! Stress! Argh! I usually write and submit my column to the tender mercies of The Primrose editorial staff well in advance of the deadline. But this month, circumstances have caused me to wait until the very last minute. I can feel beads of sweat gathering under my wig. They break free and run down my face leaving furrows in my foundation and beard cover. Will I be able to write? Can I create yet another literary masterpiece under these intolerable conditions? Let us see . . .
*****
October is a special month around our home. This is the month of our wedding anniversary, and we usually take some sort of trip to celebrate the occasion. Unfortunately, Greer is only present on these trips in spirit. Nevertheless, I would like to devote a few words to the subject even though there is no “T” in this rip (that’s trip without the T). We spent a few days in Las Vegas at the beginning and end of the trip, but the real destinations were the national parks at Zion and Bryce Canyon. We stayed a couple nights at the lodges at each of these parks, and it was wonderful. No televisions, no telephones, just an abundance of natural beauty. Much like a CGS meeting!
*****
October is also special because of Halloween. That wonderful day when everyone who has a secret urge to crossdress can do so with some degree of impunity. I certainly planned to attend the big Halloween Extravaganza presented by Transformations and Skyscraper Heels on the 24th, but that also left the night of Halloween itself to celebrate. A friend from Minnesota was going to be in town for that weekend, so we were planning on doing a Halloween bar/club crawl. I was quite undecided about wearing a costume. Should I just dress and look fabulous, or should I get into the costume thing? I hesitated and let time pass. I began looking at web sites to see what sort of costume would work for me. OK now, you know me. What sort of costume would I be looking for? Of course, something short that shows off my legs. I am rather predictable I guess. Anyway, I zeroed in on the “Women’s Sexy Costumes” sections.
In my search for an acceptible costume, I first eliminated anthing with pants or a long skirt (that’s a given). Next I eliminated having to do with sports (sexy referee, sexy football player, sexy race car driver, sexy jock strap). I’m just not a sports person. Then I eliminated those taken from things about which I know nothing (sexy Harry Potter, sexy Twilight person, sexy Octomom). Next I eliminated anything with wings, since I did wings last year (sexy bee, sexy angel, sexy fairy). Finally I eliminated anything with a plunging neckline or an exposed midriff (on me, the former is boring and the latter is plain scary).
I ended up buying a sexy geisha costume with a very short skirt (grin). Unfortunately, size large was too small (rats). It was also missing several costume pieces such as chopsticks for my hair and the obi belt. Back to the store. Alas, no larger size available for my chosen costume. Looking closer, I saw that most of the available costumes come in sizes medium, small, extra small, and teeny tiny. A few come in large, and even fewer come in extra large or plus sizes. Those that come in the larger sizes seem to be more interested in covering up my legs rather than showing them off. Where is the Tranny Costume Store when you need it? As always, if I would have planned better, I could have ordered something in advance and done just fine. Another lesson that I will ignore in the future.
So what did I end up with? Well, after checking availability at every Halloween costume store I could find, I ended up with Sexy Swashbuckler. However, it doesn’t look particularly pirate-like, so it can also be used as a Sexy Wench costume. The party isn’t until after the deadline, so I will have to report back later with reactions and photos.
*****
A very sad happening in October was the announcement that the Tall Girl shops were closing. It has been less than a year since I first walked into the shop in Schaumburg, but in that short time the ladies of Tall Girl have become supporters and very good friends.
It was my great pleasure to attend the impromptu going-away party for Sarah (formerly manager of the Chicago store) that took place at Big Shot in Arlington Heights. There was a good turnout considering that it was strictly a word-of-mouth event. Other honored attendees including Kathy (manager of the Schaumburg store), Carmen (area manager), and Shentel (beautiful daughter of Carmen). Transformations was fully represented by Rori, Olivia and Soto (I think Lisa had a date or something). Prez Jackie was there wearing a stunning new animal-print dress with exposed shoulders (oh la la!), and VP Christine also showed up apparently by accident (out trolling for a party I guess). Other luminaries were ex-Prez Katie and web-mistress Audry, both of whom didn’t look too bad (tee hee).
So what is in the future for the ladies of Tall Girl? Sarah is moving back to North Dakota where she was raised. No doubt she will soon be missing the warm 20 degree days here in Chicagoland. Kathy is looking at other retail management opportunities in the area. I am still trying to figure out what sort of “T” event we could have at the duty-free shop at the airport. Carmen briefly considered supporting herself by selling her hair, but that didn’t work out. For now, she is content to be a mom and give Shentel good advice like, “Don’t you cry” and “Man up!”
I have no doubt that we will see these ladies at community events, or anytime the bar is open. Heck, for all I know, they might still be sitting at Big Shot drinking martinis.
*****
The other big event during October was Chicago Illusions night at the CGS business meeting. The lovely and provocative ladies of Illusions presented another original show featuring audience participation, great costumes, and corsets. Yes, I was indeed called upon to don a corset along with Christine and Jenny. Unfortunately, mine wasn’t nearly tight enough, so I missed out on all the squeezing that the other two enjoyed so much. To make up for that, I was given the opportunity to help wipe down the leather suit worn by Miss Lola.
Thanks to Senior Mistress Luna, Mistress Celeste, and Miss Lola for a fun evening!

*****
Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com.

Greer's Ramblings

The Primrose, October 2009

At the September CGS business meeting, Prez Jackie brought up the subject of drivers licenses and ID cards. Fortunately she was wearing her designer flak jacket as the topic elicited a great deal of discussion which led to a cat fight and then to gunshots, apparently with large bore shotguns. Someone yelled “You lie!” and someone else screamed “It’s the cops!”, then the lights went out and everyone ran for the doors.
Wow! That Christine plans some exciting meetings doesn’t she! OK, so I made most of that up, but I could hardly wait to see what happened next. In reality, there was a high level of interest expressed about state ID cards and driver’s licenses. Naturally I figured I better throw my unsolicited opinions into the fray.
In my mind (feeble as it may be), there are two different sets of questions involved here. One set for those who split their time between different presentation genders, and another set for those who are transitioning on a full-time basis. Jackie is making official inquiries about the requirements and processes for those who are transitioning, and she will report her findings elsewhere. For my part, I decided to take on the questions facing those of us who are “part time”. So gather round the fire my friends, and I will tell you of my adventures at the Secretary of State facility in Lombard.
To set the scene, a number of years ago, the great state of Illinois made the questionable decision to bestow upon me the title of “licensed driver”. In spite of an occasional difference of opinion with law enforcement officers, I have happily maintained my right to operate a motor vehicle (single vehicle, GVWR 16,000 or less, except cycles, corrective lenses required) ever since. To obtain the laminated card that is the expression of the state’s trust in my driving skills (hereafter referred to as a driver’s license or DL), I was required to present proof of several things: (A) my date of birth, (B) my signature, (C) my social security number, and (D) my residence. There was also the minor issue of whether I could drive, but we won’t open that bucket of worms just now. I satisfied the requirements by presenting my Colorado state drivers license, my social security card, and a utility bill showing my new address. Since then, I have managed to continue to confuse officialdom, and my DL has been renewed a number of times. The hair in the photo has become progressively more grey, and the weight shown has inched up. But each time, the word “Male” has been included along with my full name as spelled out in my birth certificate (which neither looks nor sounds at all femme).
Like many of you, I have never much liked having to show my “boy” DL to get into clubs or to establish that I am of legal drinking age (I am, but only barely). Since I spend the majority of my time in boy mode (a pity), changing my DL to femme is impractical. However, I had heard and read that one could also get an ID card with a different photo. I must admit to being dubious about this, but I decided to dive in and see what was truly possible.
I checked out the Secretary of State website (http://www.sos.state.il.us/), and found nothing that said that I couldn’t have both an ID card and a DL. So, I checked out the office hours for my local facilities. My preferred location (Lombard) is closed on Sunday and Monday, open 9 to 7 on Tuesdays, 8 to 12 on Saturdays, and 8 to 5:30 on the other days. As it happened, it was Tuesday, and I was planning to go to the Transformations T-Party that night. So I decided that I would hit the DMV on my way that very day! Everybody say, “you go girl!”
A side note here if I may. I was raised in California (yeah, yeah, I know), and the place where you go for everything related to driving in California was the Department of Motor Vehicles, aka “the DMV”. What do you Illinois natives call it? Perhaps you could all get together and elect a spokesperson to inform me. For now, I will use the term DMV. By the way, I have also lived and had DLs in the states of Washington and Colorado, and I don’t recall what they called the DMV either. Do you care? Nah!
Like most of you, my many experiences with the DMV have always been friendly, helpful, positive and emotionally uplifting. What? Really? Not so much? You would rather read my column than go to the DMV? Wow, that’s pretty bad. As I recall, the experience was actually pretty much the same in each of the 4 states where I have been licensed.
Anyway, I tried not to think too much about what my DMV experience en femme would be like as I prepared myself for the evening. Those of you who saw me later at the T-party at Big Shot know that I decided to present myself a bit more conservatively than I sometimes do. Now, now. Let’s be nice and not start throwing around words like slutty and trampy. Can I help it if all my skirts shrunk in the wash? I have resisted the urge to shrink or otherwise raise the hem on my new, black, knee-length, pencil skirt from Tall Girl (Kathy shook her finger at me and said it was supposed to be that long), so I thought it would be a good opportunity to wear it. I paired the skirt with a feminine, but understated short-sleeved blouse, and my black pumps. I thought I looked every inch the career girl after work.
In spite of the sadistic efforts of Tom Tom (my GPS with a female voice named Kathy who speaks with a British accent) to take me someplace else entirely, I managed to arrive at the DMV in Lombard about 6:30 PM. There were quite a few cars in the parking lot and I envisioned a long wait in line, all the while being sneered at by dozens of trans-phobic working men and women who also enjoy spending time at the DMV. But on the positive side, it was a beautiful day, work had been tolerable, and I was en femme and feeling excellent. Let them sneer! Let them laugh! I say “Hah!” For I am trans, hear me roar! (Damn, that sounded good, I wish I really was that confident.)
My first surprise was pleasant. In spite of the number of cars in the parking lot, the crowd in the office was actually pretty light. There were perhaps 6 people in the initial waiting area. My second surprise was the very cordial greeting I received from the man at the “welcome” desk. I told him I was there for an ID card. He nicely asked if I had a DL, then used it to enter initial information in their system. He didn’t bat an eye as he looked over my boy photo and information. With a nice smile, he handed my DL back along with a slip of paper showing my waiting list number and told me it would just be a few minutes.
I selected just the right place to sit in the waiting area (not so close to the front that I appear pushy, far enough back so that I can look around at other people, not to close to the back so that I look timid, and on the main aisle so that when I cross my legs they can be properly admired). Sitting there I was able to relax and look around at my fellow supplicants. In addition to those of us in the waiting area, there were about 8 at the various windows (all seeming a bit nervous and agitated), perhaps a dozen in the testing area (poor sods), and 4 people in the photo area (all breathing big sighs of relief). I had to smile when a young lady and her Dad went up to the first window while I waited. Remember being that young and going for your first DL? No really. Do you remember, because that is way to far back for me to remember!
I only had to wait about 5 minutes before my number was called. I had a moment of panic as I tried to figure out where window 8 might be. Between windows 1 and 3? Possibly after window 12? OMG! Oh, there it is. Right between windows 7 and 9. How clever. Like in numeric order or something. Now remember to walk like a lady, short steps, slight swing to the hips, non-believers are watching.
I managed to make it to the window without falling off my heels, and there I met Ms. DMV worker of 2009. She was everything that we all love about this special breed of people. Unsmiling, abrupt, cold, all business. To her credit, she didn’t react to my boy DL, although she did sound a bit confused when she confirmed that I was applying for an ID but already had a DL. She proceeded in a businesslike way to complete the paperwork which required my signature in two places, and then she sent me along to the cashier.
There was one interesting thing that happened while I was at window 8. A “suit” with a name tag that identified him as a manager of some sort placed a small note in front of my clerk. The note was held in such a way that I couldn’t read it. After reading it, my clerk said something affirmative to the suit who then walked away. I suspect the note said, “Did you notice that it’s a guy?” Or maybe it was “Be careful with the tranny, he/she’s a reporter for The Primrose.”
While the clerk at window 8 had been a member of the all-DMV team, at least she didn’t flinch. The cashier however, was a bit older and less able to hide her reactions. From her I got a serious double-take, and another question verifying that I wanted an ID card when I already had a DL. I gave her $20 and a smile. She then mumbled, “Put the fraggin in gra slaggen and tovin out the phwten.” Sensing my confusion, she let out a sigh that was fine-tuned by years of DMV experience to express disdain for all outsiders, and she then repeated that the form was to go into the red box and I was to go to the photo area.
In the photo area it occurred to me that my name would be called to have my picture taken. Oh goody. Everyone’s curiosity to be satisfied with one yell of “Joe Lunchbox?” I know, I will ignore my name when it is called. After a moment I will look around as if to ask, “so where is this guy that’s holding up the process?” Then I would go up casually as if to ask a question. Yeah. That will fool them. Ah, but then years of training took over. My name was called and I jumped to my feet. Rats. Outed by old habits.
The lady doing the photos ended up being another pleasant surprise. She gave me a nice, genuine smile and very politely told me it would be just a moment while her machine cycled or something. She then had me sign and sit for my picture. Unfortunately she wouldn’t let me tilt and turn my head slightly for my preferred look. I also forgot to touch up my hair and remove my glasses. Darn. Lost opportunities.
I returned to the seating area to wait for my new ID card, and for the last public announcement of my boy name. However, my final pleasant surprise came when the nice photo lady only announced my last name. Bless her heart.
And that was it! I was out the door with my brand new Illinois state ID card that featured a tolerable photo of me en femme. Of course my new ID still has the boy name and information, and that big notation “Male”, but at least my femme face is now official.
I have used my allotted space, so it is time to close. But before I go, here are a couple of final serious observations.
First, if you are considering obtaining a new or changed DL or ID, remember that the state really doesn’t care what you look like, but they do care that they are not a party to any attempt at fraud. You must provide documentation to establish your legal identity. And it is only that legal identity that will be permitted on your DL or ID.
Second, please do not let my story frighten you away from the DMV. There were no impediments placed in my way because I am trans. The process was simple, no one was at all antagonistic (just typically DMVish), and half the people I encountered were very nice.
Now, what kind of trouble can I get into for next month?

*****
Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com.