While catching up on the “honey-do” list from a previous excursion, and in between working on the posts from it, I realized that my nails were in serious need of attention. My foot had been jammed into a chair leg on the trip, and I bruised a couple of toe nails, which were becoming discolored. And further damaged the cracked nail I have been dealing with for a long time. Plus, my fingers were in desperate need of a fill…
First job was to get my toes done… The tech confirmed that I had bruised the discolored toes, and suggested that she put a color on them. I had showed my wife the issue before the appointment, suspecting that might be the proper approach. And I told her to not be surprised if I come home with a color of some sort on my toes. She didn’t say anything…neither approval nor disapproval.
My nail tech suggested a wine color or deep red, but I went “thumbs down.” Not that I wouldn’t love to enjoy red nails for the foreseeable future, it’s just that I could predict likely problems at home over it, particularly as spring approaches. So the tech handed me a basket of their color samples…all sorts of colors.
Wow…now I was in heaven, just like a girl, trying to separate what I “should wear” – nondescript colors – from what “I’d love to wear”- reds, oranges, and wine colors. So little time,, so many choices…while she worked on my feet. But all too soon, she was done and it was time to “fish or cut bait.” They didn’t have any opaque pinks which precisely matched my skin color. So, my choice was easy…a light pink, which could be mistaken for white. There were 3 different samples and she thought this covered the ailing nails the best.
So now, I will be sporting these noticeable toe nails for a while, and there were fortunately no issues at home. Yet. But it isn’t sandal season. Yet. (I do have one pair of sandals which mostly coves my toes. In case of issues, those will be my safety valve.) And the new color on my toes doesn’t look all that much different from the translucent pink on my fingers.
I’ve tried on my high heels recently, and realized how tight they are, while my heels still slip out of the shoes with every step. I can’t wear them for more than an hour or so. And that precludes taking them on any excursion where space is at a premium (i.e. most of them.) The other day I ordered a pair of low heel pumps, hoping that finally I could end up with a pair of heels which could be worn for longer periods…and they finally arrived.
Following is what they look like:
Sorry about the black tights under the stirrup pants…but with the above two other pix, you can get the idea of what they look like. (No, they’re not loafers – despite the fact they look like it here. I’ll post more pix when I get the chance.)
I’m still wearing them around the house whenever my wife isn’t here…the toe box is a bit tight, but the bright side is: they stay on. Though the jury is still out, I suspect they’ll be a keeper…and my old high heels will go bye bye. I don’t have a lot of storage space!
Last year before Easter, our neighborhood had an official “yard sale.” While my wife and I didn’t participate (thus leaving mom’s and my clothes safe from possible discovery and/or sale), several homes around us set up tables. After spending a busy morning out and about, upon my return I strolled up a couple houses to see how our neighbors (not the ones who saw me in a skirt last fall – instead, the nosey ones) fared.
As it turned out, they did relatively well that morning – for a yard sale…things went cheap, but that’s to be expected. The sad part was that she had a very nice selection of lined skirts left over, which seemed to be roughly my size, selling for cheap – like $1. Though I didn’t ratchet up the courage to ask about them…I’d really have loved to go through them and pick some I’d enjoy wearing. But to their grandkids, who visit frequently, I’m still Mr. (insert my real name here.) No need to publicly muddy the water any more than it already is, by my androgynous attire….
The Easter party that night proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that not everyone in the area knows me as a guy. The ladies at the door were handing out Easter necklaces to the females. Both women knew me, and I didn’t get one, since they were only for ladies.
A few minutes later, a woman assisting them for the evening came up to me and said “Oh, you didn’t get a necklace, sweetie, let me get that for you…” and dashed right off. She came back and said “the girls just advised me that boys don’t get them, but it does look cute on (insert wife’s name here, which she read from our name tags. Remember, my first name is now a girl’s name.)” My wife and I looked at each other as she left… My comment: “Looks like she didn’t know me, with my long hair.” My wife grimaced: “Or your nails, purse, stirrup pants, turtleneck and ballerina flats. But she does now…”
Recently I ended up taking my wife to a medical appointment on the other side of the bay. It was a long, LONG drive in the hard rain. On the way back, I had to run into a store to make a quick purchase. As I was leaving the mall, a young mother with a baby in a stroller was having problems getting out of the store…the automatic doors were out of order. I asked “May I help you, Ma’am?” Her reply: “Oh yes, please. We’re sort of stuck here between the doors.” I helped her get the door open and the carriage out. “Wow, thank you SO much for rescuing me, Ma’am!”
Ah, yes…the wonderful feminine power of a pair of stirrup pants, purse, flats, long hair and nails…that’s always a good feeling!
I present the following as a second Europe entry. Please note updates and further clarifications from reader Sue in the comments. Thanks, Sue!
There are many more pictures, and I will follow up with some of them (Parts 3, 4 .and so on), as time goes on. Heads up: this (and and similarly-titled additional entries) do not present any gender-related material…but should appeal to any folks who enjoy traveling.
Of course, at the time of these tours, “Mandy” didn’t exist. And, it was possible to travel around European countries in a dedicated group tour bus emblazoned with USA flags, along with 40 other American students. Very sadly, that would not be a wise or safe thing to attempt, in today’s terror-filled world. Gone are the days…
As info, these pictures were taken with Kodak Ektachrome color slide film in a 1970’s-era Mamiya-Sekor 1000DTL SLR, and in the early 2000’s, transferred to electronic images from those previously-developed Ektachrome slides. I have some notes labeled with the locations, however there seems to be discrepancies in the locations. Plus, some simply aren’t identified. I invite anyone with knowledge to provide accurate location, as well as, whether the subject still exists!
Enjoy!
The Palladium
Above, the London Palladium, a 1910-era small (approximately 2300 seat) live performance theatre.
Piccadilly Circus?
Above: Piccadilly Circus, I think…please correct me if I’m wrong!
1925 Dennis bus
A lovely antique. I wonder if it still exists and is operable? After all, this was taken almost 40 years ago, and it was 58 years old back then!
Trafalgar Square, London
All i can remember about this area was the stopped traffic. It might even exceed Washington DC and New York!
Can anyone identify?
My notes don’t say what the above was…but I’ll bet it’s still there! Not so sure about the sun and blue sky. (Update as of 2.23.20, reader Karen advised – in comments – that this is Marble Arch . It’s on a corner of the very nice Hyde Park. Yes, I remember visiting Hyde Park!! Thanks so much, Karen!)
British Rail local train.
Above: At the British Rail station, waiting for a BR Train to Darby… Fast, easy and timely
Above: Inside St. Pancras Station, London – shown: an intercity 125 train.
The ABC newsroom in London. In case you ever wondered, ABC News was everywhere – yes – even way back then! (I wonder if it’s still in that location?)
Ducking off the beaten path for some solitude!
Above: St James Park, an idyllic place for a short break!
“Milk float”
And lastly, this proves the UK was ecology-friendly even back then – a battery powered “Milk Float” – a milk truck to us Yankees.
Heading home required a trip north to Chicago by train, then catching the eastbound train to Washington, DC via Pittsburgh. There were no notable issues, and many “Ma’am’s” experienced enroute. Even the change of trains was uneventful.
The eastbound train was running late, thus arrival in Pittsburgh was after sunrise. These pix are views I seldom get to see eastbound, and never get Westbound due to the scheduled Pittsburgh arrival, always near midnight. Being on the train gives a wonderful view of The Bridges of Pittsburgh (which is surrounded by water on two sides, thus the need for many bridges…)
Of particular interest are the three bridges shown in the following picture. Per Wikipedia,
The Three Sisters are three very similar self-anchored suspension bridges spanning the Allegheny River in downtown Pittsburgh, at 6th, 7th, and 9th streets, generally running north/south. The bridges have been given formal names to honor important Pittsburgh residents:
6th St: for Roberto Clemente
7th St: for Andy Warhol
9th St: for Rachel Carson
Designed by the Allegheny County Department of Public Works, they were all built in a four-year period, from 1924 to 1928, by the American Bridge Company, replacing earlier bridges of various designs at the same sites. Their construction was mandated by the War Department, citing navigable river clearance concerns. They are constructed of steel, and use steel eyebars in lieu of cables.
The Three Sisters are historically significant because they are the only trio of nearly identical bridges, as well as the first self-anchored suspension spans, built in the United States. They are among the only surviving examples of large eyebar chain suspension bridges in America, and furthermore, unusual for having been erected using cantilever methods.
Their color is aztek gold/yellow, chosen by city residents. Painted alike, they make a beautiful sight from the train….if it passes eastbound very late, and in sunlight!
The tracks eastbound pass through Harpers Ferry, WV. From history books, you may recall that it’s a very historic place in our nation’s history. From the train, this abandoned house just looks like any other dilapidated old house. However, this place is special…it’s the former lock-keeper’s house for lock 33 on the remains of the C & O canal, which is the ditch in front of it and on the other side of the road. I will now add “driving on the road in front of it” to my list of things to do…
Lock keeper’s house on the C&O canal
Above was the view out the other side of the train, as we crossed the river…
Finally – AT LAST – I could remove my coat AND my sweater. Since I was on the way home, no skirt that day… 😦 The temperature on the mainland side of the bay was near 60 degrees F. Warm again, the way it should be! Too bad my trip had to occur during the massive cold snap…oh, well – it is what it is!
It may be a bit dated, but above’s the outfit I wore upon arrival in Baltimore. Feminine, and as such, I love it!
I leave you with this beautiful sunset from my trip….yes, there was some sunny weather – cold but sunny. And I actually got to see a little of it!
It was a weekend a couple years ago, and a very nice one at that.
With that in mind, I wasn’t planning to get involved with bridge traffic either day, and had arranged enough time to make a sightseeing trip (following quiet rural roads) to some “new” areas for me. And, dressed in my tan tiered skirt, sandals and pink floral blouse, I was going en-femme.
As you can see below…there was very little traffic on those rural roads…
First stop was a little town named Betterton. There was nothing in particular calling me to that destination. But the name itself was intriguing. It’s a small town at the mouth of the Sassafras River on the upper Chesapeake Bay. And with a population of 345 in the 2010 census (per Wikipedia), it really is just a dot on the map. Turns out there are a number of Victorian buildings built in the late 19th and early 20th centuries as hotels to cater to the passengers of the steamboat trade. They have a very nice small beach, which was crowded because of some local event. And with no place to park, I didn’t get to rub elbows with the residents…
After checking out the town, I headed for my second destination, coming across a historical marker for the Battle of Caulk’s Field, dated August 31 of 1814, part of the War of 1812. After the burning of Washington, the British sent troops north in the bay to keep our militia from moving south. But an American militia numbering about 150 engaged the 200-300 British troops, handing them a decisive defeat, with many British killed and very few Americans injured, none killed. This monument, in front of what is now a corn field, honors the soldiers of “both sides…”
From there, it was on to Rock Hall. The town was established in 1707, allegedly named for a mansion made of white sandstone, and incorporated in 1908. Rock Hall served as a shipping point for tobacco, seafood and other agricultural products, as well as a passenger transport connection for travelers during the Colonial era. It continues to be a working harbor, with an active fleet of commercial watermen who leave the dock each day, and a population of 1,310 as of 2010.
Interesting little town, where I was able to park, walk around a bit, window shop, and grab lunch at one of the local eateries – a sit-down restaurant, not fast food. Don’t look for a Mickey D’s or Burger King here…I didn’t find any! My only interactions with others were in Rock Hall, and all were good. While walking about, there were no occasions for speaking with the locals, but I didn’t notice any unusual double takes or comments, including as I walked by several groups of three or four adults who were standing in front of establishments and chatting. In the restaurant, it was “place your order at the counter and we’ll bring it to you.” Nothing in the conversation required a gendered greeting or response, but the folks there, and the customers, were friendly, even with me in their midst, and on a first-name basis.
The female clerk/waitress, a female customer with two little girls and I were carrying on a casual “women’s type” conversation about the cute little under-4-year-old girls (who were climbing about on the chairs, just like two boys.) There was no reaction other than “normal” to my female persona (including from the little girls.) And remember, this is very conservative, card-carrying-Republican countryside.
So, today’s event leads to one of two conclusions:
1. I “passed” well enough overall, that nobody took exception to me. (There’s that word “pass,” which I hate, but can’t figure out what means the same thing, in so few words…) Since I didn’t hear “the dreaded S-word” at all, and since the little ones didn’t make an issue of my gender (typically nothing escapes kids), then it’s within the realm of possibility…
or,
2. I didn’t “pass”, but nobody chose to make an issue of it.
I’d like to think it was the first – my beard shadow wasn’t showing, my makeup was intact (despite the heat), I worked on my voice a bit, and I watched my gait and table manners. But reality rears its head, to remind me that it could be the second as well… Fortunately (or unfortunately), I’ll never know.
When “the party’s over,” it’s always a long drive home. But there should still be time to squeeze in a couple more of these little excursions before my wife gets back. Her arrival will once again restrict this type of touring – especially leaving directly from the house. But I miss her so much, that I’ll be glad to have life “as it was” once again, before she had to respond to her sister’s medical emergency.
Couldn’t omit the following encounter, which happened several years ago. It was a busy and exciting museum visit…
Probably I’m not alone in noticing what women are wearing, color combinations, patterns and the like. In August of 2014, I visited the Udvar-Hazy Center, Chantilly, VA – the Smithsonian’s repository for aviation and space artifacts which are too large for the museum on the Mall in DC. (Yes, I got to see the Space Shuttle Discovery, which my wife, son and I watched take off from Florida years ago.)
A picture of my outfit that day is below:
Let’s just say that the woman’s outfit below initially caught my eye as she passed by the McDonalds where I (in the skirt and blouse outfit above, with flat sandals) was having lunch. Not sure if she calls it a tunic top or short dress, but she wore “whichever” with her black tights and modest heels. (Wish my legs looked half as pretty as hers!)
I love the pretty colors, and she wears it very well. Not only was there a “wow” factor in her dress, but she must have passed me three or four more times as the day went by…so I got to see it again and again. Below is a pic of her outfit (bold colors, just right of center, with the man in a yellow shirt directly on her right):
One of these days, and under these circumstances (fully femme), I’ll be brave enough to stop a woman and ask…where she got her dress! (Even though, as in the above case, there might be a significant size difference!
Some of my readers are avid travelers, who have posted pictures from their recent trip to the UK. Mandy was there (and in some other countries as well), as part of an educational program back in the early 1980’s. Those traveling folks were interested to see some of my pictures, as a “look-back” at the area, to see how much things have changed in the past 40 years.
I present the following as an initial entry. I have many more pictures, and will follow up with some of them (Parts 2, 3.and so on, as time goes on. Heads up: this (and and similarly-titled additional entries) do not present any gender-related material…but should appeal to any folks who enjoy traveling. And notably, thanks to reader Sue for her additional comments and clarifications in the comments. That info is much appreciated…thanks, Sue!
Of course, at the time of these tours, “Mandy” didn’t exist. And, it was possible to travel around European countries in a dedicated group tour bus emblazoned with USA flags, along with 40 other American students. Very sadly, that would not be a wise or safe thing to attempt, in today’s terror-filled world. Gone are the days…
As info, these pictures were taken with Kodak Ektachrome color slide film in a 1970’s-era Mamiya-Sekor 1000DTL SLR, and in the early 2000’s, transferred to electronic images from my previously-developed Kodachrome slides. I have some notes labeled with the locations, however there seems to be some discrepancies in the locations. Plus, some simply aren’t identified. I invite anyone with knowledge to provide accurate location, as well as, whether the subject still exists!
Enjoy!
Famous Buckingham Palace.
Buckingham Palace – with guards in transit. Notice the age of the visible automobiles. All would be antiques today!
Big Ben and Houses of Parliament. To me, the bridge in the foreground appears to be the same one which was involved in a couple of the recent terror incidents.
Tower Bridge, over the Thames, above. Not sure what the ships were. Notice the scaffolding on the bridge towers!
Not sure which bridge I was on when I took the above.
Waterloo Bridge over Thames above – note St Paul’s Cathedral dome in Background.
Along US Route 11 South at Fort Defiance (Virginia) is the defunct Augusta Military Academy, on a beautiful large campus, with an active museum and at least one company in some of the abandoned buildings. The academy “called it a day” in 1984 but still maintains alumni functions. Below is a picture of the entrance gate, and also the dormitory building. Magnificent facades with beautiful architecture, but with a bit of a melancholy tone, given that the main one is disused…many broken windows…no way to tell what it looks like inside.
There were no “miss-identifications” enroute, at hotels or restaurants. Servers universally omitted any forms of address, and referred to us as “folks” or “guys” – which was no problem. Not sure what they were thinking – but that’s no real issue.
When we were getting ready for bed at our son’s place, I realized that I had left my nightgown at the motel on the way. Since it was gone, I told my wife that we needed to get another, and slept in a pair of shorts with tank top. We went to a nearby K Mart, and though she commented that she wasn’t comfortable buying her husband a dress, seeing him wearing it, and that she wasn’t satisfied with the styles there, she did it so I’d have something to wear to cover my bod…
The next day, enroute from our son’s place to the hotel near the wedding venue (our home for the next 4 nights) I detoured for a stop at the Beechcraft Heritage Museum, in Tullahoma, TN. It’s a fabulous museum containing some old (and also more modern) Beechcraft flying machines.
Mandy (wearing one of her typical androgynous outfits) n front of a 1930’s era Beechcraft Staggerwing
My favorite, however, was the following Beechcraft Staggerwing, presented naked, without its fabric “skin” and showing off all its “bones and innards.” A truly fascinating presentation…
This visit was “alone” – my wife had no interest. And that’s a good thing…from arrival to departure, I was addressed as “Ma’am” by the lady attendant on duty. My wife would not have been at all happy. As she was waiting in the car, with a cooler full of chocolate favors for the wedding, I hurried through my visit, vowing to return another time when I didn’t need to rush.
When we were waiting at the hotel the second night, my wife noticed (and commented about) my nails, which had been shortened at her request during my last fill. “Why did they make your nails so shiny?” I explained that I have food oils on my hands from eating a hamburger, but that my nails done the same as they have been for months, if not years. Nothing is different. And “yes, they are shiny but it can’t be removed. Bright side is: at least they’re short, just like you requested.” She wasn’t at all happy, and expressed it…but she gave up on that battle (perhaps for now?) And I heard no more…
Finally…the day of the rehearsal, and rehearsal dinner, arrived. Our son’s big day was getting closer! I was wearing a pair of women’s black dress slacks, a polo shirt, pantyhose and flats, and carrying my purse (with my camera stuff visible.) No makeup, no jewelry (at my wife’s request. There were no issues, from my wife, the restaurant, or the guests.
We had over 40 folks in attendance, mostly friends and relatives of the bride (and groom, too.) It was nice to be able to meet some of the bride”s family… But my wife and I were the first to arrive, and found that the venue had moved our dinner from one room (where we had given them a floor plan) to another. That meant we had to rearrange tables and chairs as best we could, in preparations for the 40 guests.
And then we also discovered that their strongest server, who was assigned to us and whom we had met just the day before when checking arrangements, had called off sick. Translation – we got a substitute, who was good, but perhaps not as good! He really had to hustle his buns to take care of us (drink service and clearing the tables) Fortunately the food was a serve-yourself buffet, so nobody went hungry!
The food was tasty, and the problems were transparent to most of the guests, but we were upset. As a result, in response to our complaints, management gave us coupons for some free dinners…which we shared with the bride’s parents, since they live in the area.
The kids’ wedding day was spectacular – from the weather standpoint as well as the big event itself. It was an outside wedding, but the reception hall on site was big enough to accommodate the expected 150 – 200 guests inside in case of rain, as well as hold the tables for the reception. For me, it was a big day of meeting new people, in my men’s suit (a so-very-rare occurrence), women’s black trouser socks and ballet flats, with my purse containing my camera stuff. (Three elastic button extenders from JC Penney took care of my shirt’s tight neck issue…and it looks OK with a tie. As long as I don’t remove the suit coat, exposing the oversize shirt sleeves, it works fine. That has bought time to search for a proper shirt – without the rush.)
My wife continued to insist that I have my hair in a ponytail. I had agreed to do it, so I complied, and she bobby-pinned the loose ends down for me that morning. It made her happy that I looked like a boy…and you know the old saying “happy wife, happy life.” So, I tolerated the inconvenience for that one day. There was no wind to tear my hair apart, so it worked just fine. There were no “miss-identifications” (well. at least none that she heard.) So it was a happy day for her. And there was nary a peep about my shiny nails…I presume that issue is behind us now.
However, there WERE a few “miss-identifications (which fortunately, my wife didn’t hear.) In the pavilion’s main hallway, a couple of times elderly relatives I hadn’t met yet, scooted past me with “Excuse me, Miss.” (They obviously need a visit to the optometrist – a men’s suit is undeniably a men’s suit! Or possibly they were distracted by my purse and flats?)
Toward the end of the afternoon, the bluegrass band playing outside (all relatives – and definitely not amateurs – the music was very good) stopped at about 3:45 and they started to clean up. My wife and I were sitting in chairs belonging to one of the band members (the bride’s uncle.) When he gave us the carriers for them, so we could put them on their truck when we were done, he addressed us as “ladies.” Fortunately my wife was deep in conversation with the bride and her aunt, and none of them paid attention to the “ladies” part. Surely everyone knew my gender by then, from my participation as father of the groom, that I have long hair? Could it be confusion over my “now exclusively female” name in the program? Or was he making some kind of a statement? Details about that may come to light later…
Just as an aside, the maid of honor (who is the bride’s BFF) is a lesbian, with a female life partner. And it is a known fact – they’re definitely “out.” Lovely ladies, I might add! (That might be a good indicator of possible future acceptance, if I should unavoidably be seen in a dress at some point.) Maybe the bride’s uncle assumed my wife and I were lesbians as well? So, go figure! It was very interesting.
Below is a picture of the view from the site of the outdoor wedding. Simply spectacular backdrop for their ceremony!
When I checked into a different hotel (so I could use hotel “points” to pay) after leaving our friends, the new place’s staff had a split decision on my femininity. (I was not wearing a skirt at that point.) Doormen addressed me as “Ma’am” but the desk clerk (who really noticed only my top half and my ID), used the dreaded S-word. That was expected. After reaching the room, and changing, I went back through the front desk area later, and apparently the shift had changed or folks were on break, as nobody gave me a second glance…so far, so good.
I had brought along one black, and one red-and-black patterned skirt. With the cold weather outside, the red one never left the suitcase. And I made a short run outside wearing two pair of opaque black tights with my skirt. – with the wind chill down in the single digits, that was too cold – I’m just not used to my legs being so exposed. Thus I settled on wearing heavier black stirrup pants over a pair of tights, with my black skirt and my booties. That worked…and I have two of each color of tunic tops, so that was not an issue.
My booties were a lifesaver…yes, I had flats in my suitcase. But the soles were smooth, and there was ice/snow everywhere. Sidewalks (as well as my flats) were very slippery – falling was a real risk. So they got worn only once…on the way home. I spent most of the trip wearing my booties…which hid the stirrups and made it look almost like I had on a pair of leggings. And with the lugged soles, I had much more traction…no falls.
So, it was out to sightsee a bit, on Beale Street. It was early morning, and ice was still present. But I had on my skirt, with lipstick and the rest…and was addressed as Ma’am by everyone – including a panhandler. That never ends. Do they get better results from harassing women? Maybe he thinks with big purses, women have lots of money to give them? I tried completely ignoring this one, and he gave up rather quickly.
I had been told by both a cab driver and the rental agency staff that Beale St. was safe to enjoy, but unlike Broadway in Nashville and Bourbon Street in New Orleans, the safe part only goes about 3 blocks. So I stopped at about 2 blocks. It was fun, and there weren’t many folks out at that hour of the morning – well, except for panhandlers. The second one addressed me properly, too. But I wasn’t in a sympathetic mood. The low sun angle made for some interesting pictures.
Several shopkeepers addressed me correctly, and as a result I bought a few souvenirs…
And it’s probably a bit unusual to be walking on Beale St. – in frigid temperatures, with low-single-digit wind blowing up under my winter coat and skirt, and snow and ice on the ground.
Though this picture doesn’t really show it, sidewalks – particularly on the shady side – had many slippery spots – with only sand for traction. (The places that were shoveled well, fared the best. Others, not so much.) Yes, the sun was beginning to make inroads on the ice, but I had to presume things were still slippery, and wearing my booties on this trip was definitely the correct decision, even though flats would have been more feminine!
Recently I had occasion to visit my Primary Care Physician.
This wasn’t an issue for the provider. He knows my birth gender, and uses appropriate greetings and pronouns when necessary. The fact that I typically look more like a girl than a boy doesn’t seem to be a problem.
The staff, however, no longer knows me. I found that out with this visit. There has been an almost complete turnover in support employees since last fall. When I checked in, I noticed female staffers (all new since my last visit) omitted any gender specific greetings, and the same thing happened when I was called to go into the exam room. For those who may be interested, my outfit was tan stirrup pants over black trouser socks (no tights), a long black turtleneck tunic (un-tucked), nylon panties, and my flats. In addition, of course, to my purse, long nails and hair. Like so:
The nurse who initially took my blood pressure omitted any gender specific greetings…but when she came back in at the end of my visit to dispense a pneumonia vaccination, she reminded me to “take your tunic off so I can reach the top of your arm.” I never did figure out if she had checked the records for my gender, but she didn’t express surprise that I was bra-less.
Segue to the Nursing Home: recently I was told that by my mother’s nursing home staff that the doctor discovered a small lump on one of my mother’s breasts, and they reminded me that I should begin to have a breast exam each year, since it tends to run in families. (Yes, they know my birth gender.) I wonder if I will at some point need a mammogram? If so, I may try to go en-femme to blend in better with the female patients.
Back to my Primary Care visit: my provider didn’t flinch when I asked him to do it, particularly because of the size of my breasts (I’ve never been measured, but they are more noticeable when I wear certain tops. Not typical male breasts.) He thought it was a good idea and will check them again in the future. Fortunately, nothing needing further investigation was found.
When my visit was over, I went to the check-out desk, where the twentysomething clerk got a full view of my appearance as I approached. I inquired about paperwork for a couple of non-invasive tests the doctor suggested. The clerk (new staff) had to call across the office to the doctor’s nurse and inquire about “Ms. Sherman’s referral.” I heard her say to the nurse: “Yes, she inquired about them.” (I was referred to as “she” a number of times.) Then she asked: “Ma’am, is it OK if we mail them? The printer is having issues.” I told her that would be fine, and said “Have a wonderful day, Miss.” She responded “You too, Ma’am.
Though my presentation initially seemed as though it may have been marginal, the visit turned out to be wonderful!
Mandy's Miscellany 
