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It was raining here on Saturday morning.
It was raining in Portsmouth too.
The kind of soggy, continual, drizzly rain that makes you feel damp the instant you step out into it, and lingers longer than it really should in your clothing.
The type of rain that’s laxy, really – it can’t be bothered to go anywhere, metaphorically sitting on the sofa, munching popcorn and watching movies and just half-heartedly doing the job of raining.
One job, right?
Well, here in my car, I feel driest of all (Thank you, Gary Numan), and the dash from the house meant I didn’t get in soaking.
My male jacket was deposited on the back seat, the forms dropped into the soft M&S bra under my strappy vest top – which in turn provides soft warmth under the red M&S jumper with real gold brass zips on the shoulders.
My ladies Levis feel soft on my freshly shaven legs encased in smooth nylon, and stroke them soothingly as I wriggle into the car seat.
I pop my white trainers over my tights, and my trusty, if somewhat aging blonde wig on my head, and off we go!
Driving en femme never stops being an absolute pleasure! It is calming, relaxing and just… nice!
I am convinced that it makes me a better driver.
Sometimes I take her up to 70 on the motorway as quickly as possible just because I feel exuberant, and the road ahead is clear – but I hardly ever feel in a hurry, or impatient with other drivers, which is a shortcoming of my male side, which is decreasing as the number of outings I have as Laura increases.
Each time I drive somewhere as Laura, I experience a new level of calm, a quickness to spot the male traits I don’t like or want, which too frequently I live in denial of – like “Did you see what that guy just did? What a jerk!! Hey buddy, I hope you crash!!” O.k., never quite that bad, and never with a U.S. accent as it reads to me off the page, but you get the drift.
Anyway, thanks to the lovely drive, my arrival at the Royal Maritime Club in Portsmouth seemed very sudden – and, oh joy!! There were parking spaces available right outside the front!
At this point, I had no makeup on. Family constraints prevent me from getting made up at home, I couldn’t very well do it in the driveway, and there are no full scale services on the route I took, just small garages with occasional chain franchises for coffee, burgers, etc., mainly used by van drivers and truckers – and I am too used to the old days and ways!
This is something to get over – a new Laura challenge – to go to one of these places fully femme and not worry about it!
For now, I have no makeup, but I don’t mind. I don’t have a dress on, but I do have forms and wig – maybe those signals are enough, or maybe people will just think I am a weirdo – and that’s OK. Their opinions can’t hurt and are none of my business, just as my fashion is none of theirs.
So up the steps and into reception I go, to see if I can use the facilities, as a soon-to-be paying guest.
The receptionist recognised me immediately!
“Hello Laura, my darling – you’re looking well! Come to stay with us again, have you?”
“Yes, that’s right, my lovely – and you’re looking good too! I know it’s a bit before check in, but could I please use the facilities? It’s been a long journey!”
“Of course you can, my love – the ladies is over there. Why don’t you grab a quick coffee as well – breakfast is until 10, and they’re still serving!”
The Laura levels shoot up!
I am being directed to the facilities appropriate to my appearance, and it is assumed – there’s no hesitation about which one to send me to – I look like a woman, even with no makeup.
Well, that level of acceptance makes me feel more like a woman – that’s what I mean by Laura levels.
Any remaining tension about lack of makeup, or the requirement for a skirt vanished with an almost detectable “pop”.
Then: “And I’ll see what I can do about getting you a room ready – can’t promise before 12 noon (it was 9:30 am) – so why don’t you chill out in the spa area – I know you like that!”
Oh, heaven!!!
“Sunshine on a rainy day makes my soul, makes my soul trip, trip away…”
I settled into my favourite seat, near the window, with a free cup of coffee and watched the rain drizzling down, the bent over silhouettes under their umbrellas, the shining vehicles hissing past, and the ever-present seagulls gleaming white against the grey clouds, and sipped my beverage contentedly.
Who wouldn’t be content, armed with a delicious, hot brew in a nice warm restaurant, with a femme spa session to look forward to – I mean, honestly, does it get any better?
This chapter has come to an end, but this story is just beginning!
Thank you, dear reader, for sharing these feelings and delights of quite ordinary things, done en femme – with maybe a soupcon of Laura magic – and I hope to delight you further with the next instalment.
PS. Please do admire the lovely dress I bought on this outing – I uploaded it to my public photos especially to go with this story.
Love Laura
You go girl, what a great adventure!!
Laura,
I did indeed just admire your red dress! Smashing! I believe that’s how you Brits say it’s really really good. I don’t know which I envy more, your successful dressing, your casual ease at appearing publicly, your apparently good relationship with your wife in the matter of your dressing, or your appealing writing style. I can’t wait to read more!
Cheers,
Catherine
I know that rain well, being in Cornwall and being someone that works and plays in nature and with it almost my whole time. My greatest joy, like you, is to drive dressed, it just feels so good. It is as you say, so different, so much more laid back, comfortable and rarely do I feel the need to go above 60 on the motorway. Thats interesting in itself, how people often perceive us as guys dressed as women but there is so much more depth to it. I feel more at ease, peaceful and so very creative in anything…my love of clothes, my style of dance. My friend has gone the whole way of becoming female and she said her bass playing is so different to how it was a s a male. I ve done so many miles dressed and it always gives me a smile..little things like when crossing the bridge over the Menai Strait into Wales. I pulled up at the toll booth in my denim mini, bare legged and footed, nails painted and a cropped top on. The toll attendant, a woman, took my cash with a smile then said you look gorgeous if you don t mind me saying…great legs. I m very much more hippy chic than glam so come summer I m bare legged and bare footed, nails painted, toe rings on and anklet.
Look forward to the rest of your story, beautifully written. xx
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