Thank You, Ma'am

2017

One day, I was at a local hospital to see a few doctors. I had multiple appointments and had already been to my first one. There was time for lunch, so my wife and I were at the hospital cafeteria to eat. We had gotten our food and had sat down to eat, and I had gone back to get something, I think more iced tea, for my wife.

My typical clothing at that time was what people call skinny jeans, which I wore because they were snugger than typical men’s jeans, and allowed me to drift more toward female jeans, in fit. I would wear some sort of v-neck t-shirt, and I had a pair of black canvas shoes from the women’s section of Wal-Mart, which were for some reason shoes people didn’t notice me wearing, and thus, were “under the radar”. Also, those shoes were very comfortable!

Today’s outfit was black skinny jeans, those black shoes, and a bright pink T-shirt. My hair had been allowed to grow out for a few months by this point, and thus, was a bit longer than some guys. I felt far better, dressed in this manner.

I got some tea for my wife and went to the cash register. I asked the cashier, an older woman with a friendly smile, a question about the tea, and she replied: “Yes, ma’am”. I didn’t really notice. But then I paid for the tea, and as she handed me the receipt, the cashier said: “Thank you, ma’am”. So I was now sure I had heard it twice. I didn’t know at the time that hospital employees are encouraged, when they see someone expressing gender, to respond appropriately.

I told my wife, and later, my therapist. Both of them asked me the same question, which was how did it make me feel? My initial answer to both of them was that I wasn’t really sure. But, after reflection, I realized that I had that warm feeling you get when something good happens. That was the first time that someone other than my wife and my therapist recognized the “me”, in me.

Lotion at the Gym

2017

While a military reservist, I was at a weekend drill and had participated in what was, to be honest, a pretty weak exercise session. Finished now, I was in the locker room. I have previously discussed my dislike of locker rooms and shower areas. This one was no different, but I had discovered an area with relatively few lockers, and only a couple of benches, where generally, no one else went. So I had relative privacy, each time I was there, as long as I was very fast getting in there, and didn’t dawdle. So when I needed to use the men's locker room, I used this area. 

I quickly undressed and wrapped a towel around me. My body, except my head and arms, was hairless, having shaved just the day before. I went to the showers and showered as fast as reasonably possible while still getting clean. I have noticed that being clean is something that resonates with me. Once the shower was over, I returned to the lockers.

I have been wearing boy short panties. They fit well around the legs, aren’t the least bit baggy in the butt, and they have the needed space in the lower front. That day I had a dark blue pair of boy shorts with a lighter blue flowered design on them. I pulled those panties on and pulled on a uniform T-shirt.

My skin was often dry at that time, so I got out a bottle of lotion, applied some lotion on my palm, and slipped my right foot out of the shower shoe. I placed my right foot on the bench, on my towel, and began applying lotion to my leg. I got it spread out pretty well over my leg and began rubbing the lotion in.

Suddenly, I heard a cough and a “What the hell is going on here?”. Looking to my right, I saw a very large man standing there in a towel. I was wearing panties and an Army t-shirt and had one foot up on the bench with my light pink painted toes in plain sight. My hands were sliding over my leg as I rubbed lotion into my skin, and this man had a clear view of the entire scene.

I hoped he was just going to let it go because though he and I were the only ones in the immediate area, there were a lot of men in the locker room. That was not to be, however. 

"Well?" he demanded.

I'm a short, non-threatening looking person, and I'm in the men's locker room with panties and painted toenails. Despite this, I mustered my best Army command voice, which is an amusing thought considering the scene, and demanded roughly “Is there some sort of problem?” People were always shocked when I did things like march troops because they don't expect such an authoritative voice from me. He was startled and looked flustered. He muttered “Um, no.” and turned away. In moments, he was around the corner, out of sight. 

I started breathing again and quickly finished applying lotion. I finished dressing and left as rapidly as possible. I was a bit shaken because I understood that the situation ended much, much better than it could have.