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The Voice

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As a closeted crossdresser from age 13 to 33, my voice was not important. The only crossdressed interactions I had with civilians was on Halloween. I was not trying to pass, although I often did (“who is the woman not in costume?”), so my male voice made no difference on the crossdressers’ national holiday.

Attending my first support group meeting, I noted that most girls used their male voice, so I fitted in, but the handful of girls who used a femme voice intrigued me. I wanted to be the best crossdresser I could be, so I began investigating how to feminize my voice.

I found Melanie Ann Phillips’ course “Melanie Speaks.” When I purchased the course, it was only available in VHS format, so I dubbed the audio to a cassette tape and played it every day on my commute to and from work.

At first, I was disappointed ― my voice still sounded the same and nothing like Melanie Ann Phillips’ perfect femme voice. But one day after about three weeks in, this fabulous femme voice came from my lips. I was shocked and could not believe that voice was coming from me!

However, I felt uncomfortable using my femme voice. Whereas all the other accoutrements of crossdressing, the dress, high heels, makeup, wig, handbag, were real to me, the voice felt fake and I was loathe to use it especially since my normal voice seldom gave me away. 

For example, there was my first Halloween at work en femme when I ran my pantyhose. Femulating fanatic that I am, I drove to nearby CVS to buy a new pair. I entered the store and to avoid causing a commotion, I went to the first saleswoman I saw and explained that I ran the pantyhose of my Halloween costume and needed a new pair.

“Hosiery is in aisle eight, Ma’am,” she replied, unfazed by my Halloween costume hint.

I guess I was not going to cause a commotion, so I went to aisle eight, picked out a pair, then I went to the register where the same saleswoman rang me up without a clue.

The amazing thing is I never used my femme voice in CVS. I spoke in my normal male voice, which is admittedly soft-spoken, but definitely male. I guess the saleswoman’s eyes convinced her that I was a woman no matter what clues her ears might be picking up.

Moments like that convinced me to discard my femme voice, use my normal voice and damn the torpedoes.

Source; Boston Proper
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