“Accidents will happen; mishaps will occur”

No can deny that being a genetic woman is not easy.

Whether it be the need to constantly maintain one’s appearance and grooming or one’s decorum; or constantly fight against society’s in-built prejudices as they relate to certain perceptions of the fairer gender, [Ed. Note: Did you notice that one?] or to do with career advancement prospects; or even the monthly battle with the body’s in-built hormonal challenges — in short, a woman’s lot can be hard.

But, believe me, sometimes being a T-girl out and about is even harder; in fact, it can be downright tough.

The need for a T-girl to appear to be absolutely perfect in every detail as this relates to clothes, make-up, wig and accessories, and to maintain an overall convincing appearance is an overriding concern — maybe even an obsession — for many T-girls who like to frequent public places. Not all I accept, but the vast majority of T-girls I have met who do go “public” care greatly that they always appear to blend in, that they don’t stand out or be noticed for other than the woman that they were meant to be.

Yet with this drive for perfection, this “hair never out of place” or this “make-up never smudged” attitude, comes the unavoidable eventualities of something going wrong or mishaps, big and small, occurring. Somewhere. Sometime.

Oops! Cartoon by Christine-Jane

So, we have to accept that, despite all of our best endeavours to the contrary, there will be times when mishaps happen and, whilst we may not always be “read” or “spotted,” the mishap in question does leave us just that bit more noticeable than we’d like to be, leave us just that little too much exposed for our own comfort… and sometimes, safety.

Some of the following are my direct experiences and some of those of my friends — not all are dramatic, but were enough to leave the T-girl in question as the object of some unwelcome attention; here we go:

• Walking along a crowded footpath, a T-girl ducked to avoid an overhanging branch and left part of her wig impaled on the offending tree limb.
• (A very topical one and one of my favourites.) Desperate for the ladies room and not for the first time, a T-girl slipped into the female washrooms for the necessary relief, only to find that, once inside, the cubicle the door had jammed — and she couldn’t get out; the bolt had partially broken and she couldn’t get enough “purchase” on the door to prise it open. Her last resort was to shout for help (in her best female voice) and fortunately her cries for help were answered not by a burly security guard but another lady who had happened to just wander into the washroom. Once the door was opened, the T-girls departing movements were akin to the speed of light.
• Then, there was the T-girl who forgot momentarily that she was in “female mode” and went gaily into the gentleman’s washroom.
• A broken high heel incurred in drizzling rain, some 500m (approx 550 yards) from the T-girl’s destination, meant she had to walk barefooted (and without an umbrella) amongst throngs of non-T’s on her way to a function.
• In an almost empty restaurant, an attractive T-girl sat down at a table for two; just as her main course arrived, the immediate next table was occupied by ten, large rugby players, clearly on holiday and out for the night to party; once the obligatory ritual of all of the men “sizing her up” was complete (with them, one by one, looking across and smiling at her), somehow resisting the various invitations to join the men’s table, our T-girl confidently stood up (yet with a quiver in her stomach and sweat dripping down her forehead) and looked at each man in turn, then addressed the assembled throng with a pleasant, “Thanks, but not tonight guys…bye.” Another quick exit ensued… (leaving the money for her meal on the table.)
• a T-girl who walked past a night market stall once or twice per week and frequently chatted with the two female proprietors, one evening was out in “drab” and saw one of the said proprietors parking her motorcycle.

Reflexively “he” called out, “Hi how are you? Haven’t seen you for a while.” The totally perplexed market stall proprietor was dumbstruck, not at all knowing who this new male “friend” was and just stared, mouth agape. As the T-person realised what he/she’d just done, with a murmured, “Oh, sorry…”, he/she simply slunk away into the darkness…

There are plenty more examples I can quote, but maybe readers have their own tales of near misses, close escapes and mishaps from being out and about en-femme?

Have you had an accident or mishap while out and about? Share it with us in the Comment area below. You must be logged in to comment.

Tags: being read, crossdressing, featured, Transgender

Category: Out & About