Ode (Owed) To A Friend

[Alison Anderson]

The woman who did my first makeover, and over the years became a good friend, announced to me in August that she would be moving away. I went to see her in September for one more makeup lesson, and wrote something to her.

I took a few poetic liberties writing this, mostly in that I had made a few trips in public, to walk from a venue to my car and eat or fill up my car at a rest stop. But I had no breast forms (I used poly fiber stuffing), no makeup, no wig. I really do consider my first makeover and trip out with her to be the beginning of my crossdressing in public.

Now that she has announced to the world that she is moving, I feel free to post this. Other than some anonymization, this is what I wrote.  She told me it would be OK to post online.

___________________________

Ode (Owed) To A Friend

Life is about changes. Most are pretty small. But every now and again, something comes up that changes our lives forever.

Eleven years ago, there was a shy and scared girl outside your home for the first time. She had never been seen by anyone else before, and had never let her beauty shine through. She arrived a few minutes early, and had no idea what to expect. But reading too many fictional stories online, she wanted to be punctual and not arrive too early.

Her goal that day was pretty simple. She was tired of hiding, and wanted to experience a day in the sun. A day she could go out and be herself and not feel foolish, embarrassed, or ashamed of who she was. She knew that this would be a special day, because her family didn’t know, and because the cost was not cheap. She believed that, if she did it again, it would be a long time in the future.

A breakdown in her marriage led her to start dressing again. It also led to a separate bank account from which a payment could be made. She had been collecting and wrapping coins for a while, and had enough saved in coins to pay for her day without impacting her budget. She had a single special day when her children were all out of the house. Her son had left that morning for a three day journey to college. One of her daughters had already started marching band camp at her college. And her other daughter was in sleep-away marching band camp in high school, returning the next day. Her spouse was working evenings, so would be sleeping most of the day, getting up just minutes before leaving for work. So she was so thankful that you were available that day.

She, or properly, I, entered your back yard and you called out to me by name. That was the first time I ever heard it used. And you have been using it ever since, no matter how I appear. (I’m not sure if you even know my other name, even though there is a street with that name just a couple of blocks away from you.) I found a warm, friendly face waiting for me.

I came expecting a makeover, some photos, and a trip out in public to eat. You showed me your kindness, your respect, your confidence, your skill, and your graciousness. I left learning how to put on makeup, and with new breast forms, a bra, and bangs. With your support, my nervousness lasted mere seconds, first walking out in front of your home, and then getting out of the car at the diner. We ran about 90 minutes over the allotted time, but you didn’t charge me extra. Despite expectations that I would have to pay for the meal, you picked it up the tab, leaving me only the tip. Everything you did that day said how much you cared about the people you meet, how much you want your girls to succeed, and not just about trying to squeeze every last dime out of girls who want to live their dreams.

That day I peeked into the door of femininity. You held it wide open and led me through. I let the genie out of the bottle that day. She refused to go back in. That day was a big change for me. It changed the course of my life, allowing me to show my feminine side to the world.

Within four months, I attended a pre-Christmas party at your home. And two months later, I was a regular at your events, missing only a handful over the years.

Your generosity extended not only to giving me things or helping me get started. By opening up your home to parties and events you allowed me an outlet. Through your parties I met others in the CD/TG community and our supporters. I learned confidence. I learned to be comfortable. I learned makeup tricks. I learned to walk, sit, and behave as a lady. I learned that shops and restaurants are very accepting. I learned how to have fun with dressing for all the themed parties you had, or singing a song or two. I even learned to let my kinky side out. Seeing all the beautiful ladies at your parties with their masculine voices, I learned to let go of some gender prejudices; when my synagogue decided to go with a female rabbi, I no longer had a problem with it.

I got to live out some fantasies with you, such as a school girl, a sissy maid, and a bride. I got to perform in a show. I got to wear a beautiful fuchsia quinceañera gown. I got to go to a conference. I got to wear a swimsuit on the beach at Coney Island. And these are just some of the adventures I had with you. I could go on with many more things I’ve done on my own.

Over the years our relationship grew from a business relationship to a special friendship. Sure, friendship is part of your business model, but it grew to much more than that. I have told my friends online how lucky I was to find someone like you. It’s like I found a diamond or a gold mine. I felt truly blessed.

Then tragedy struck your family. Life took a sharp turn. I am honored to know that you considered me one of the few friends to help you through the tough times. I listened to you and did my best to comfort you. Just as you never passed judgment on me no matter how I was dressed, I didn’t pass judgment when your pain was talking. My job then was to listen and to provide comfort, and I hope I did it well.

When you showed me a picture of yourself at your husband’s home out of state, you looked happier than I had seen in months. Oh, you’ve done a good job hiding your sadness, but a good friend notices. You mentioned that you were considering moving. But I thought it would be a hard decision. Born and raised here, with your friends and family close by, and with the business, I didn’t think it would happen, or at least so soon. But I did get worried when I saw some realtors on your calendar. (You remember that it’s public?) So when you broke the news on your decision to move, it was still a shock, but it wasn’t a complete surprise.

The tides are changing, and soon we will be drifting apart. The road forks ahead and we will be going down different roads. I forget that times change, and that things don’t stay the same forever. While I hoped our relationship could continue for many years, it was not meant to be. Things will never again be as they used to be. I am comforted by the fact that you will be happy, even though it hurts me so damn much.

That shy girl that graced your doorstep eleven years ago has become a mature and confident lady. Although she still hides this side of her to those who know her other half, she isn’t afraid to go out and about in the world. She no longer needs her hand held for security, although she still welcomes the hand of a friend. She will always be grateful to the lady whom she trusted to put her on this path. The support, the kindness, the graciousness, the belief in her even when she was unsure of herself, in short the love she received from you, will never be forgotten.

Wishing you and your family the best in all your future endeavors. All my love,

Alison

[Valerie Greene]

Very lovely and moving friendship story. What a treasure, such a guide and mentor

Val

[Author]

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