Going drag is, obviously, the act of
dressing up as a
drag queen or
drag king. It's a lot of hard work for a man to do this. Some
professional drag queens can take care of the
make-up and
dress in quite a short time, probably not more than the time a real
lady would use in the
bathroom, but for us
non-professionals, it takes more
time. So there's the
definition.
In my own
experience, this is a lot fun. I did it, and I found it
hilarious.
I suffer from
male anorexia and am therefore very
skinny. Actually, I am skinnier than most
supermodels. ( I look like a
skeleton with some
skin strapped on It. ) I was with a
girl at the time, and, firmly locked in the
bathroom, we did the following :
( First, obviously, I had to
shower. )
The
make-up :
I had to
shave really, really close, so I would be
smooth as an androids backside.
Next, I had to shave down my
neck and the top part of the
chest. I even trimmed my
nasal hair.
When this was done, we could still see some
beard, so we had to use a
cover cream to mask it.
( By sheer luck, the only cover cream she had matched my skin perfectly. )
Then, to draw
attention away from my rather
masculine nose, we applied a lot of
make-up on the
eyes.
mascara,
eyeshadow and
eyeliner.
Then of course,
painted nails,
lipstick, and a
wig with long, dark hair.
The
clothes :
This was a lot easier than I thought. We had a very nice
dress that my
girlfriend used for
live roleplaying.
fake breasts was made by several pads of
lay-in in a
wonderbra. Brown
pantyhose covered the
hair on my
legs, and a thick
scarf tied around my
hips made them look bigger and more
feminine. We couldn't find
shoes in
european size 45, so I just wore my
boots, but the
skirt was so long no-one could see It anyway.
The whole process of changing my sex took around four hours. I was beautiful.
So, what happened... ? This happened :
I walked out of my
girlfriends apartment, wearing a thin black
coat over the
dress.
It was the middle of the
winter, and I was
freezing cold. Soon, my
taxi arrived, and upon seeing me, a 1.87 tall
woman, the
driver got out and opened the door for me.
What a gentleman. Now, this was my first problem.
The voice. I was surprised to find how easily I got out of That one. The taxi ride took 15 minutes, and all the Time the driver was glancing at me. I felt I had really achived my goal. I didn't know yet just how successful I had been. As I left the taxi I told the driver that he could go ahead and keep the change, and then, in
my real voice, told Him
I'm a man. Without even looking at his reaction I walked into the
hotel where the
party was.
As I entered the party, which was a
corporate party for the place I worked in at the time, I really had
butterflies in the good old
stomach. I had no idea how people would react.
Now, I think I should tell you that every time we had a party in this
company, we would rent the same
room in the same
hotel, and then only because there was a bunch of
pensionists having a
dance there, and they didn't need the room. We were, of course, not supposed to disturb them.
Since I was so nervous, I decided to get a
few shots of good, strong whiskey before I walked in. ( After all, even my
Uncle was at this party. ) But in order to go to the bar,I had to walk past the pensionists. That was
a bad move. The place was packed. Over a hundred of the
buggers were dancing in the hall, and around fifteen were standing by the
bar.
When I rounded the corner, they all turned to face me. It was scary. One of them came over as I was looking through my purse for my cash, wild-eyed and desperate as I was, and asked,
"Do You Want a dance ?"
Two or three stiff
whiskeys later, we were dancing. He was much better than me, and my size 45 Shoes kept stepping on his. But he was very polite and understanding about it. It felt good to be treated nice for five minutes. When the dance was over I had to tell him that I really was a man. He looked like he was about to have a
heart-attack at first, then he just smiled and laughed.
" All my friends will have seen my here with a tall beautiful young girl. That matters in my age. "
So I left him there, and walked over the the part of the
building were my party was. Of course I was
fashionably late, and most people had become quite
intoxicated. They were all sitting around the table and discussing
politics and
religion, or dancing and having a good time.
When I came into the room, some people turned around to look at me, including my uncle. I said, " Hi. Did anyone see my
brother ? He told me about this party, and wanted me to come. "
Then, to remove all doubt, my uncle winked at me, ( Keep in mind he wasn't prepared for this. ) and said,
" Sorry, but he called and said he couldn't make it.
How are you, dear
niese ? "
From here, the party went very well. I was telling people about "myself" and drinking a lot of drinks that various male
collagues got for me. It was all very good until the
fire alarm went off and we all had to leave.
What did I learn from this ?
One,
gentlemen do exist, but they seem to be a dying race.
Two, feeling beautiful and attractive is nice.
Three, wigs really itch.
Four, my uncle is kinda cool.
Five, people are ready to believe anything as long as someone else believe it as well.
Six, cross-dressing is really fun.
I never told my collegues that It was really me, neither did my uncle. Some of them may have suspected the
truth, but after all, my
sister would look very much like me, wouldn't She ?