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Hi gals, here’s some advice don’t have your nails painted if you live with someone who’s an early riser and perceptive.
This morning I got up groggy, 25 mins late, went the toilet and walked into the kitchen, where my dad was. After talking for 30 seconds he notices my red nail varnish on toes. Busted!
I tell him the truth, I’m a terrible liar and he knows my tells. He’s shocked but says he doesn’t care, just give him a week to get used to the idea. I didn’t expect this, he’s a none practicing Johavas Witness. He said he’s always known I’m not particularly masculine. He said flaunt it in the flat and he but doesn’t want to be out in public with me en femme. This is fine with me as not planning on going out any time soon and moving out soon anyway. He’s a mild hoarder and I can’t take it anymore. Ten mins after finding out we were joking about it. Guess I was worried for nothing. So I’m very lucky that no one I’ve told has rejected me. Be careful with your nails gals they could get you in trouble, think I was very lucky.
Love Trish
A few years ago I was at work in the office and one of my female colleagues walked over to me and gazed at me. I looked up and she said ‘You look as if you have mascara on’. I just said ‘Don’t be silly’. She said no more and walked away. No one else made any comment so I finished my work and walked out of the office. I dived into the loo and realised that I had a residue on my lashes! I had used a waterproof mascara and showering had not fully cleaned it off.
Nothing was said and it was never mentioned again.
Note to self…..
Trish
Good outcome all round…..
you could have worried endlessly about telling him….now it’s out!!!….not all accidents are bad.
Could say, ” you nailed it”
Huggs, grace xx
Wait till he has to rescue from Rei tucking technique, will be nothing compared to red toe nails.
Glad he’s OK with you though that’s magic.
I haven’t actually tried any type big tucking yet apart from hip forms which reduce the bulge.II haven’t been dressing long. It’s on my list if thing to learn.
Don’t think he’d be keen to help out in that scenario. Might just be a little too far for him, though it would be funny, if not slightly painful.
I may have slipped up today. I was outside today mostly in drab wearing DD forms beneath my shirt, denim jeans, red lip stick and bare foot with red nail polish. The Amazon guy was less than fifteen feet away when I was coming out of the garage and I didn’t see him until he spoke. He smiled and said he left a package on the front door. A little embarrassing but these things are bound to happen
Elizabeth
Few weeks back I accepted a package from the postie, in a dress. She just smiled and quickly turned away. I think with strangers mistakes Don’t matter as much.
Trish….lots of postie’s wear dresses….and most of them are women!!
Gotcha honey…haha
I lived and worked from home en femme while my wife and kids were away.
Trouble is, the delivery people have to pass my study on the way to the door, so every one, from the postman to the Amazon drivers and the lady who delivers for Hermes has seen Laura working where male me normally works – then back again.
Not one has passed comment, although the Hermes lady said she liked my dress, as I had to sign for one package.
To the best of my knowledge, none have mentioned it to my wife either, and I can’t say it would bother me if they had.
Laura hasn’t met any of the neighbours yet, and they’re very, let’s say, traditional around here… but femme time is rare. Carpe diem, girls!
You’re only busted if you’re doing something wrong, so make it like you’re not.
Love Laura
Many years ago I was caught out by an unexpected visitor to the flat I was renting…
I’d only just about plucked up the courage to go out en femme at the time but was enjoying living day-to-day as Rachel. That morning, as most, I’d got up, washed, shaved and dressed and had only just finished my make-up and straightened my wig when the door bell rang – it wasn’t a nice door-bell ‘ding-dong’ but a horribly raspy continuous buzzing-ring. My heart leapt to my throat! I wasn’t expecting anyone and the only people I could possibly imagine calling unexpected like that were my parents.
I thought about getting undressed as quickly as possible but immediately discarded that notion – the makeup would take far too long to clear and none of my drab clothes were easy to get to. In a mix of terror and curiosity, I gently padded my way to the door in my stocking clad feet and stood behind it, listening intently for clues. I couldn’t hear my parent’s voices, so that was good but there was clearly someone still standing there. As carefully as I could, I moved the little disc of metal covering the ‘spyhole’ on the door and through its distorted image I could see a oldish, somewhat overweight guy in work clothes standing there.
My instinct was to pretend not to be in, in the hope that he’d go away so I slowly (oh so slowly!) let the little metal cover slide back over the spyhole and as I did, the guy rang the doorbell once more – with the combination of adrenaline pumping through me and the actual doorbell being situated right by my ear, I jumped out of my skin once more and ended up rattling the security chain on the door – there was no way he didn’t hear that.
And so, feeling sick to my stomach, I carefully opened the street door – “Morning!”, came the reply, “British Gas, I’m here to service your boiler, can I come in?”
I beckoned him in, with the quietest squeak I could manage and pointed vaguely at the location of the boiler, which was mercifully buried in an understairs cupboard. And I ran in to the living room and sat absolutely still and in total silence for about 20 minutes while he fettled away.
Eventually, my torture came to an end and he emerged from the cupboard, poking his head around the door he called out, “All done – thanks” and with me only able to offer the weakest of smiles and a whispered, ‘Thank you”, he departed shutting the street door behind him.
Rachel xx
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