How Many Crossdressers Does It Take To Change a Light Bulb?

It was a Friday evening and I was on my way over to pick up my friend, Sym, for our twice monthly ‘girls’ night out’. Well, we’re not really girls; we are crossdressers who like to present as very passable and tasteful ladies. By day we were both males teaching at a large Midwestern university. Alysson and Sym came to know each other by accident and then I got to know Patrice, Sym’s pretty and supportive wife. The three of us chatted away one evening and became close friends and confidants. I was and am single, a widower with grown children so I had a lot of freedom to come and go. Patrice was good enough to give Sym the space she desired. That usually meant a night out like this once every week or two. So here I was.

As I approached Sym’s house I felt three things were certain: the house would be immaculately clean and bright with flowers everywhere, Sym would not be ready and something would happen. Sym did not get her name as short for simple.

When Sym answered the door, she was a “him,” and not the “Sym” I was hoping to see. “Sym, why aren’t you dressed? I demanded”

“Oh my God, I am like so late!” she said using two of the latest phrases her male alter ego had picked up from his students and transferred to Sym. Of the two ‘Oh my God’ was by far the most common. She continued, “I made dinner for Patrice and her mother. Patrice is picking her mother up from the airport and I need to get out of here!”

I went in and we went to work. Luckily Sym had her lashes and make-up on, so it was just, well, just the other four or five thousand other things she had to put on in order to turn herself into “Sym.” I understood about Sym’s need to get out of there. While I’d never met her mother-in-law I knew she was far from the liberal-minded woman her daughter was. Ultra-conservative, ultra-fundamentalist she looked down on everyone that didn’t represent her narrow view of life. Her view of the GLBT community was that they were ‘God’s Little Bitches.’ According to Sym his mother-in-law couldn’t even bring herself to think of the ‘T’ part of the community.

Patrice had three requests for Sym that day. 1) Please don’t leave any sign of Sym around the house, 2) Please change the burned out light bulb in the kitchen and 3) Please be gone before she got back from the airport with her mother.

We’ve got about thirty minutes and then we have to be gone,” Sym called from upstairs as I knew she fretted about what skirt and blouse to wear, how to match the earrings and how to squeeze in to those new high heels she loved. “Help yourself to a snack in the kitchen but don’t leave any lipstick marks on any of the glasses.”

“Thanks. I won’t,” I replied as I walked in to what seemed like a pretty dark kitchen. I took a sandwich off a platter and poured myself a coffee from their every present carafe.

A few minutes later the real Sym appeared looking as gorgeous as ever in a pencil skirt and low cut blouse but a little bit unsteady on her new shoes.

“Nice shoes,” I commented.

“I would never try to wear these if you weren’t doing the driving.”

“I’m glad to oblige,” I said, “but by the way isn’t your kitchen a little dark?”

“Oh my God! I was supposed to change that light bulb! Hang on. It will just take a second.”

Quicker than one could say ‘take off those heels’ Sym was climbing on a none-too-steady looking chair.

With the light bulb in one hand, Sym grasped the back of the chair with the other and proceeded to try and hoist her buns up so she could stand on the chair. This was no easy task in high heels since a three-inch heel makes the seat of the chair seem, well, three inches higher.

I recall that first, I heard a grunt. So far; so good. Sym’s buns were beginning their ascent! But, that was immediately followed by the loud “crack” of an old wooden chair collapsing.

“Oh my God!” exclaimed Sym, probably this time really meaning it as an appeal for the help of her deity.

Then, as the chair collapsed beneath Sym’s weight Sym began her descent, which almost simultaneously caused the loud pop of an exploding light bulb and the thud of her right arm on the kitchen table which in turn caused a jug of water and a bowl of salad to be deposited on Sym as, bum first, she reached the floor.

“Are you okay?” I said.

Sym replied, “Oh my God.” I wasn’t sure, but I thought that for the first time, Sym may have meant this literally? Perhaps indeed, Sym was walking into that great white light and upon seeing God, may have actually been greeting Him?

But, no. She was alive.

“Can you get up?”

She again replied, “Oh my God” thus uttering four “Oh my God” statements in a row and each one had meant something different! I wonder who holds the record for the most inferred meanings for that phrase?

Sym got to her feet. I was already in to clean up mode but Sym was covered in a soggy mess of salad and sauce. She was going to have to change. I told Sym to get changed and that I’d clean up. The ‘drop dead time’ to leave the house was down to twelve minutes.

A few moments later, as I stood at the kitchen sink, keeping one eye out the window for their approaching minivan, Sym appeared in the doorway, half dressed, and tossed some clothes at me calling back that I should put them in the laundry hamper. I barely had time to turn around to catch the blouse and skirt which I stashed in the laundry room. I remember thinking that she should also have washed the bra but also thinking that because her bra would be so much bigger than the petite Patrice’s perhaps she didn’t want to leave it lying around.

When Sym reappeared, I had the table reset, the broken chair out of the way and the light bulb changed. For the second time that evening, we rushed to the door. Sym ran for the car as I closed the door to her house behind me. We were down to seconds to spare.

It looked as if we were going to pull it off! I got in the car and started to back on to the street. As the car stopped in front of the house to change from reverse to forward, in the distance I could see Sym’s grey minivan approaching at the same time as Sym took one look back at her house.

Simultaneously we said: “It looks as if we just made it!” as I accelerated my car to get down the street and around the next corner ahead of the advancing minivan.

“Is that my bra hanging from the geranium plant in the kitchen window?” asked Sym.

In unison we both exclaimed, “OH MY GOD!!”

Tags: crossdressing, featured

Category: Transgender Fun & Entertainment