I promise to keep this installment light. I had a week of fishing and two of fierce golf outings, which left all the work I’d been trying to do on balancing out my tan out the window. Not long ago, my torso had distinct layers, but decent. At my age, I’m not heading to a pool to lie out. Sitting on my deck is ok for about twenty minutes, and other than taking off my shirt to mow, I wear my top. Oh, and you should see my pearly white feet compared to my legs… Oh, man, or rather, poor girl.
There are those unique aspects of femininity that appeal to us. I like the outdoorsy, tanned girl look. White China dolls, not so much. Wouldn’t I love to have that bikini tan. Obviously, I can’t wear it to mow at 2 am for several reasons. I live on a river that I could travel upstream, and hope others don’t float by. I can (because I now live alone) sunbathe on my deck, but…
What if I have an emergency and end up at the Doctor’s office? Not so easy to explain that away. Can always use the biker story for being mostly hairless, or I’ll have to come clean if they ask. Since I’m still mostly in the closet, I have to temper my wants with “Get me Bys,” those aggravating nuisances that stop me from being more like the girl I wish to be. I’d love a cute tattoo as well, my ears pierced, my nails the perfect length and polished, and magical breasts (and ahem other things) that come and go as I wish. Let’s not forget the magic serum to make me smaller, younger, and sexy.
So I can’t have those, but I can work on my tan. I sit outside on the deck with a towel over my head and legs as I try to hit the areas that need help. Unfortunately, doing that once to twice a week while still golfing and being outside isn’t enough to compensate. I wonder about getting my own tanning light. I wear my sandals when I can, but it doesn’t keep pace. I’ve promised myself a kayak for years. Maybe this is the year I get it and then use it on the river next year. Keep in shape and perfect the tan. I’m not giving up golf, and I’m not going to be the weird (guy) at the public pool. Did I mention how boring it is to lie out tanning? The bugs make it difficult to do yardwork—Chiggers and no-see-ums are worse than the biting flies and mosquitoes.
One of the most femininely attractive things to me is a tanned woman’s legs. Chop my feet off and wear a dress that goes mid-thigh, and mine are pretty nice, although hairy this time of year (don’t shave them until short season ends.) I might have to take up biking, which I adamantly hate just to have the excuse to keep them hairless all summer. I tried a few times to use tanners with less than stellar results. If I talk with a pro, I might find one that would work. Why worry at all if I’m only tipping my toes outside the closet. Isn’t it just me that needs to be appeased? EXACTLY, and it drives me nuts. I want to look down at silky, tanned legs and feet with red toenail polish and no need to wear nylons or longer length clothing. My bare shoulders can stick out of tops and dresses without looking six shades lighter.
My point is this: part of this desire we share to look feminine is as much about the canvass as it is the finished masterpiece. When we throw on a dress and the canvass is flawed, it sticks out, making the illusion imperfect or our need to find ways to compensate. I did a photo shoot the other day (5 outfits in 3 hours) and had to take off my wig in between each outfit and sit where the already lowered air conditioning could attempt to cool the padded body sweating so profusely. Dabbing at the makeup to keep it dry, reapplying lip-gloss after chugging water. Shapewear, nylons, silicone, wigs, makeup, and movement in humidity do not play well with each other. Tanned legs, magical breasts and hair would be great.
I love the summer girl look but can only achieve it during the frigid winter (after the Farmer’s tan has subsided.) I’m sorry, but it just isn’t the same. I don’t want to wear sweater dresses in the summer or sundresses in the winter. I want the feminine experience in season. It isn’t that I can’t dress for the moment, but seeing the shortcomings bugs me, and that tempers some of the feelings. I still wear the sandals with hairy legs and white feet, don the shorter, sleeveless dress, and skip some of the shapewear and makeup when I just need to be. I also don’t look in the mirror or take photos. It works because it is better than not at all, and that isn’t an option. Because I need to go all in, I will suffer the best I can to see that girl that I know I am.
The one thing that I have enjoyed, now that I’m alone, is the opportunities to spend a day or more fully immersed. You call it the “Pink Fog”, but that term isn’t something that I adhere to. When I dress it is to be more the me that I feel and not the rush in falling down the rabbit hole of womanly wonder. I get how that might be for some, just not for me. My manners don’t change; they are more natural and not guarded as they are when portraying my male side. It’s taken me some time to understand this distinction. It’s why I state I am more than a crossdresser. If I could only do something about my need to buy more dresses and shoes than most women… Nah, a girl can never have enough pretty dresses or beautiful shoes.
If you close your eyes and then open them, I hope you see the girl you’ve always wanted to be!
Until next time…
More Articles by Sabrina (Brina) MacTavish
- The Gift
- Good Intentions
- It’s a Wonderful (CD) Life
- A Crossdresser Thanksgiving
- Where has My Woman gone?