Summer was my favorite season until I began going out en femme in the late 1980s.
Back then, going out en femme meant attending support group meetings. However, there were no meetings during the summer because the meeting hall was not air-conditioned and the fear was that the average femulator in wig, makeup, and foundation garments, would melt away without air-conditioning.
I bought into the summer meltdown theory and did not femulate beyond my air-conditioned abode during the summer. As a result, I could not wait for summer to end so that I could start going out again as a woman in the fall. So I began to hate summers.
In the ensuing years, I had a occasions to go out en femme on hot days and lo and behold, I discovered that I did not melt away like the Wicked Witch of the West. I did glisten, but the heat was never a deal-breaker. So my attitude changed and now I no longer shun summer forays en femme.
After all, cisgender women can not pick and choose which days to be women; they are women in all kinds of weather. So, if I am truly the woman, I must be that woman in rain, snow, sleet, hail, and heat, as well as on nice mild sunny days.
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| Wearing Cinq a Sept dress, Alexandre Birman sandals and Elizabeth Cole earrings (Source: Intermix) |
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| Three cans of Regal and one femulator, San Francisco, circa 1960 |