Friday, August 10, 2012

Frequent Flier

Today, I am happy to present a guest post by a “daily reader of Femulate,” Paula Gaijkowski. I am sure you will identify and sympathize with her words; I know I did.

Paula_G I’ve been up since 4 AM, an early flight, I tell everyone it’s so I can get there in time to prepare for my meetings the next day. If they knew the truth they would be surprised, or perhaps “shocked” would be a better word.

The airport has energy, a vibe, a current of movement and change. People are in a state of flux, business deals, money made and lost, love found, divorces, farewells, reunions, new babies and trips homes for a funeral, a river of life. I watch them, businessmen and women, grandparents on a visit, tourists, college students, and the visitor whose brief return is over. But I mostly focus on the women; in them I see myself.

You see that’s my secret. How I envy them and long to be a member of their sorority. The anticipation in me grows; soon I think I’ll join them. I will shed this facade of masculinity that I have been forced to wear. I’ll leave this city, this life, and role behind. I sigh and close my eyes trying to sleep as the plane lifts off. It will be a busy day, I’ll need my rest.

The baggage claim, the rental car bus, the ride to the hotel, it’s a different city, but the same routine. I smile and exchange pleasantries with the hotel clerk.

“Welcome” she chimes, “Are you in town for business or pleasure?” she asks.

I hesitate slightly before responding, “Actually both, I have a meeting tomorrow but today I’m meeting one of my sisters for and lunch and shopping.”

I laugh to myself, If she only knew what I meant by “sister.”

The hotel, is quiet and empty; everyone is out and about. As I ride the elevator up, my enthusiasm and expectation grows. I push the huge suitcase down the hall the wheels sticking on the carpet. Finally we arrive at the door. I insert the card, it clicks and we are in. I toss the suitcase up onto the bed. It opens, and out from underneath the slacks and BVDs I pull a black bag, I lay it across the bed and unzip it.

It’s good to see them again, my purse and the pink makeup case, a pair of pumps, several skirts, tops, bras, panties, pantyhose and jewelry. A sales receipt spills out from my last trip. It’s from Nordstrom. Oh, yes, I remember now, it’s from the M.A.C counter. I had bought new foundation. The sales associate, her name was Lisa, was so friendly and helpful.

“Thank you Lisa,” I say to myself.

I read the date it was over a month ago. That’s too long… much too long.

I let the warm water of the shower melt away any uncertainty. That part of me from that now distant city protests “Why are you doing this? You’re foolish! You’re a man, a husband, a father!”

But I don’t listen to that voice anymore, I know better now. The feminine scent of the shaving cream and the unveiled smoothness of my legs calm me. I feel her take hold inside me.

I dry myself off, then spray on some perfume, I breath the aroma in, the scent is satisfying, almost like a drug, I feel it trigger certain parts of my brain, as if they were dormant, but now are called to life, they burst forward igniting senses and desires no longer forced hidden.

I become a little hurried now. As I put on my foundation garments, a female silhouette takes shape in the mirror, the padding and forms do their job. I feel a slight disappointment that I need them at all. My eyes go to juncture of my thighs, the curvature of my lower abdomen, it looks so female. Maybe, I think, someday… it will be.

I sit down and start my makeup. I‘ve become practiced, better than most women, the foundations goes on with a M.A.C brush. Oh, yes, I think, I have all the tools. Then I apply powder. I brush it off softly creating an even matte finish; next I contour, then I highlight.

Slowly I trace the brows; their arch brings another hint of femininity to my face. This time they came out perfect, I’m pleased.

The eyes are important; I take my time getting them just right, the shadow, the liner and finally the mascara.

The lips are next. I trace a cupid’s bow with the lip liner bringing my upper lip closer to my nose, an important feminine feature. I finish with two shades of lipstick; my lips take on a fullness and depth. Some blush, and then a touch-up and I’m done.

Not bad, I think, but there’s still more. I clip on my earrings, a gold bracelet, a watch, a diamond engagement ring, and on the other hand a birth stone. Today I’ll be wearing a skirt with a red jacket. I step into the skirt, pull it up and then zip it. It fits nicely. I smooth it running my hands over the curves on my hips. Then I slip a dark blouse over my head I pull the buttons close over my bust, yes, my “bust,” I muse; I like the way they look. Next, I put on my jacket.

Finally the icing must go on the cake, I lightly place the wig on my head; “boys have short hair girls have long hair” I mouth these words softly.

I step toward the mirror; there she is “Paula,” a huge smile flashes across my face, a giddiness takes over, a sense of relief. I primp in the mirror then pack my purse, credit cards, license, cash, and room key. I primp in the mirror again. My nails! I forgot my nails, it takes a few minutes, but they’re pretty, a press-on French manicure --- just the right feminine detail.

I check my purse again. I’m nervous, there’s a bit of trepidation as I stand in front of the door. Faintly I hear his voice pulling me back. “Noooo I shake my head!"

I look in the mirror, she smiles at me. You can do this. I’m out the door; there is a sense of wonder I’m doing it. I ride down in the elevator, the doors open and I’m in the lobby. I walk over and grab a bottle of water from the market. I ask the clerk softly, “Can you put this on room 314?”

“Sure” she smiles, “Anything else Ma’am?”

“Ma’am,” I say to myself, yes, she said Ma’am --- my heart sores.

I’m out the door and the cadence of heels on the pavement announces a woman is here. I’ve escaped, if only for the day, but I’m free and I’m flying!


  1. There is no reason it should be so complicated. And that a beautiful spirit should have to fly so far away to be so free. One day I hope that Paula and all of us will be able to be just who we are. In the mean time I and the rest of us, will take small steps to bring us in that direction. Thank you Paula for sharing your feelings through your story, it was heartfelt. And thank you Stana for making it possible for us to read it.

  2. Stana and Paula, thanks so much for sharing. This too is my story and I am sure that of many other sisters. It is so great to read and learn that we are not alone and there are so many others out there. As I travel I often wonder who else amoung my fellow passengers are underdressed as I and wishing for the ability to dress as we desire. I do love to watch and look at the female presentation in the airport of life and often see myself in that dress or that skirt and blouse and set of heels and wonder when will my time come. Someday perhaps it will. Thanks again for sharing this and all the other things you share from you life and that of fellow sisters. Lisa

  3. I am merely one of the many "other sisters" Lisa mentioned. Thank you for that mention, Lisa! I enjoyed the story, Stana.

  4. Superb comments about your experiences. I enjoy reading about not only the application of your preperations but anticipations of your trip. I hope you had an exciting day! Thank you... Paula and Stana........

  5. Thankyou Stana for allowing Paula to share, and Hello Paula!