(Some of these segments go back to the early 1990's, and now seem like they were written by a different person. And in a way, they were.)

JULY 21, 1999
Blues camp was great. What a trip. It really was a heavy emotional experience, my first week living as a woman in public - doing it away from home of course made it easier. I don't know or care what people thought of me, other than they seemed to think I had a vast repretoire of songs. Most of them don't sing much, or if they sing, they don't play much, so I made a lot of friends in the evening sitting around picking sessions. One girl there is a photographer, and made me sit for photos.
I performed at an open mike, in a club in Port Townsend as Lili, I didn't talk, just played and sang Send me to the Electric Chair, - just one song, I didn't want to push my luck - and I think they assumed I was a woman. Afterwards, I was putting my guitar away, a kinda attractive slim, hippie-type woman started talking to me, and seemed surprised by my voice. We hit it off well, played music afterwards, but then I failed to get her phone number, and she didn't come back when she said she would, so I can't really call her. So it goes.

My trip to the midwest was great, till the last day, when my wallet turned up missing when I got to SFO. It was in my purse under my seat as far as I know on the plane from Chicago. It turned out that my Mastercard was used in Massachusetts before I called the company, so someone made off with it. So I was in SF enfemme with $3 and some change, no ATM, no credit cards and no ID or drivers license. I had tried to get travelers' checks, but couldn't make it to the bank before the trip. I sure didn't want to hitchhike. I ended up calling my brother to wire me $125 to get home, about the amount I had in my wallet. I got home at midnight.
The trip itself was really fun. It cost me about as much as an orchie, unfortunately. My cousin who's 1 1/2 year older than me, is really super. After I told her I was TS, she became my strongest supporter amongst my family. We had a lot of fun, for 2 weeks. At least I did. I seemed to pass OK when I was with her, with only a few strange glances. In Utah and Iowa, they don't expect to see TS types I guess. Actually I think most people were looking at her, because she's quite attractive. We spent the 4th of July in casinos outside Denver.
Then I couldn't reach either of my sisters, nor my TS friend in Illinois. After leaving a final massage on her voicemail, I got back in the car, and my cousin said, "It must be disappointing to not be able to reach the people you came to see." That did it. I cried for 15 minutes. If she had any doubts about my state of affairs, I think those doubts vanished. She held my hand while she drove, said she loves me, and that was what I've needed for months.
As we got near my relatives' neighborhood, I changed to drab, and that was the extend of my enfemme part of the trip, till my flight home. We stayed at numerous relatives' houses, some of whom were quite conservative, and I told them all that I'm transsexual, with no fireworks. I explained the basic details, and they all support me, I guess.

May 15, 1999
Another magical night. I went to a theatrical benefit for our public radio station as a woman, giving several of the women staff members and volunteers their first look at the real me, in a mauve top over a pink turtleneck, and a long flowered 60's style light brown skirt. Everyone was totally supportive, and more or less congratulated me on my courage in coming out. This time I didn't tell them that it wasn't courage, but desperation that enabled it! Let them think the better of me.
I arrived late, and met two of my co-staffers setting up the bar. They were quite surprised - one was anyway - told me how great I looked, and hugged me. I just hung around at the bar talking, and never even caught the performance. Obviously I was putting on my own. I nervously awaited the end of the play, whence came the reception. No one recognized that I was male! I knew the two volunteer bartenders, but they smiled and didn't recognize me! Not at first. Then one came over and said, "Hi, CJ," and met the real me. I told her my story, which she wasn't aware of - totally unexpected - and I later spoke to her husband, who was the other bartender. He asked, "Is this the new image?" I said, "It's my new life." Another occasional news volunteer who knew I was coming out recognized me, and talked to me for awhile about life.
When the crowd left, we killed of most of the wine, cleaned up, and one of the women asked if I felt like going for a drink. I said sure, so we went to the pub in Mendocino, which was packed and roaring. About 85% men - I'm not sure if that figure would include me or not. It's an old fashioned place, with peanut shells covering the floor, with a full bar, full of antiques and beer drinkers. We sat at a table against the wall, while my friend checked out the guys, and gave me her critiques and comments. I was just soaking in the atmosphere of being a girl with another girl in a bar full of men. Very different. Obvious now to me what assholes most of them are. But I'm sure they'd think the same of me, if they knew I was male.
Then the pub closed at 1:00, so she asked if I wanted to go to Dick's Place the super redneck hub of Mendocino. I said no, but she drove us there anyway. She asked me to order her a glass of wine, while she lightened her load. I must have sat there at the bar for ten minutes, with my coffee and her glass of wine, and twenty redneck guys and about half a dozen girls, before she finally came in. We got another table against the wall, and when we ran out of things to talk about, she started kissing and hugging me. Several of the rednecks were staring at the two women holding hands, etc., and I was waiting for a scene to break out, but no one said a thing. I teased her, aren't you worried about being perceived as being gay, but she said Naw. So we closed that place also at 2 AM, then she drove me to my truck, and we split. It was all harmless play, but I was pretty nervous thru the whole thing. Again no one had recognized me as a guy. My endocrinologist was right - I have facially changed, and can pass easily! Hooray for modern science and pregnant mares!

February 19, 1999
Last Sunday, Valentine's Day, I went to a "Drag" night at the local nightclub. As I walked across the front porch to the door, a friend of mine spotted me, and laughed - but it was more in astonishment than humor. It was OK, knowing him since he was a kid. I walked up to him and rubbed shoulders, and said "Hey baby", or some such thing, which is what people expect men in drag to do at these type of things. I found myself acting like a normal guy acts when in drag. Well, that's OK, if I really act like a woman or transsexual in front of my old friends, it will be just strange. As I went inside, a couple gay guys hit on me, saying "You're beautiful - If you're gay, we can have some fun", or some such line. I was flattered, but not interested, and walked on inside. Three in the guys in the band were wearing dresses. I found a place at the very end of the bar, and stood next to two women, who I talked to throughout the evening. One was an artist, who asked whether she could take my photo, saying that I look remarkably like a woman from the back. Well, the back is better than nothing.
I bumped into a woman I've known for years, and she recognized me - sort of. She had to ask me if I was who she suspected I was. She was marveling at how amazing I looked. She said, people are really staring at you! Well, maybe I was the only transsexual in the place, and what they didn't realize was that they were looking at the real me. That's why I looked natural I guess. I danced to the Soulrockers all evening, and had a great time!

October 24, 1998 I managed to extract two vacation days from the powers that be, since it was quite obvious that I have been overworking. I found a relatively quiet street in San Rafael in which to make my transformation in the cab of my truck. This is obviously not the safest thing to do, but I've done it dozens of times now. Wearing a white cabled sweater and a long flowered skirt, I found a vegetarian Vietnamese restaurant that looked promising. Had a very nice meal, read the newspaper, and idly listened to the yuppies' conversation at the next table. It had been several weeks since I had been out, and I felt wonderful, thinking about the next couple days of femdom.
I followed a sign to the public library, found an interesting autobiography of Jan Morris, titled Conundrum, and skimmed about half of it, but didn't check it out, not having a San Rafael library card. I logged onto a computer, checked my email, and bumped into a friend or two in a chat den until closing time.
I was pretty tired, and wanted to make it to the coast for the night, so finding a road out of Mill Valley, I followed it till I could hear the surf on the way to Stinson Beach. I found a secluded pulloff, spread out my sleeping bag and went to sleep.
In the morning returned to Mill Valley, shaved in a supermarket restroom, and went to the Mill Valley library, to check my email, and chatted with another friend. Then skimmed thru the TS library listings, and found only the autobiography of Lady Chablis. I read about half of it, till I couldn't stand sitting in the library any longer. I went to a nice bagel shop for coffee, where I saw someone who I thought might be Neil Young. He glanced at me a couple times, and I returned his glance, but he didn't come over to my table, so I never knew whether it was Neil or not. Nevertheless, it felt wonderful to leisurely enjoy good coffee in a busy bagel shop.
As I returned to my vehicle, I noticed a part-time help wanted sign in an English lingerie boutique. I entertained the thought of applying for that job, but knew it was impossible because of my real work schedule, the distance from home, and the obvious reality that no one in a shop like this would hire a TG girl that looks like me. Not that I look bad - just not fully convincing , a fact that was confirmed later in the day.
I had to find a post office, after when I located it, and stood in line for about 10 minutes, a male clerk said, "Can I help you, sir?" I was wearing what was unmistakedly a feminine dress, and full make-up. I couldn't believe his audacity - a federal employee, in northern California, using this insensitive "salutation." He sold me my stamp, and as I left, I said, "Thank you, ma'am," to which he replied, "You're welcome." He kept a stone face, so maybe this was an inadvertant blunder, like when Archie Bunker asked Sammy Davis Jr. if he'd like cream and sugar in his eye, but I doubt it.
I was burning as I left. I thought maybe it was because my dress was too feminine for the time of day to look natural, so I changed back into the sweater and skirt, and bought some concealer, to lighten my whisker shadow. Then I went to a Safeway, glanced at the Wells Fargo ATM, and a helpful clerk asked me, "Do you have any questions I can answer sir - ma'am?" I mumbled no thanks,. and I hope she truly mortified by her thoughtless mistake. This time it was a blunder, but that didn't make it hurt any less.
These two incidents ruined my day, to say the least. I can't help it that I haven't been approved for HRT yet, but nevertheless, I have this fate, beyond compulsion, that makes me have to live this way. It's the hand I was dealt - I didn't ask to be like this. But I have absolutely no desire to resume my life as a "normal" male. I could go through the motions, but would feel as normal as a turtle on its back.
Anyway, I decided to drive into San Francisco, found another quiet street and changed into a black leather skirt, with my ancient black motorcycle jacket. Not the picture of femininity, but this was San Francisco at night. I figured I am who I am, and I can do what I want. I popped into Kimo's, but nothing was going on, so I walked down to Divas, sort of a notorious TG place, but a great sound system, and nice folks. I bumped into a TS girl I'd seen before, and we hit it off really well, with this nice gent from Birmingham England sitting between us. They kept saying, Lili, where do you want to go? Let's go! But I didn't know where to go, other than somewhere to dance - so we stayed there. Then she just about punched another friend of hers who she thought had slighted her in some way, and got very upset. Had something to do with the fact that the other girl was blonde, and my friend wasn't. I took her outside, and confided that I thought much more of her than any of the surgically-enhanced and bleached barbie dolls inside, that she has real character and charisma that lights up the place when she enters, and that the reason I came back was in the hope that I'd meet her and we could talk. Well, that brightened her up considerably, we hugged, then the clubowner told us not to hang around in front. I thought that was odd, but then my friend said, I have to go do a trick tonight, so I'll see ya. Gotta work! And she split.
When I realized that this vivacious young thing was a hooker, I was totally bummed. No one could afford what she is worth in reality. I wish I could offer her a real job. With her spirit, she could be a corporate head someday. Oh well. She wants that final surgery and she wants it ASAP.
I left the city and went back to Stinson Beach, sleeping till about dawn in a back alley with the surf roaring in my ears, the most beautiful sound produced by nature. In the morning I drove to Bolinas, a town that doesn't exist by roadsign measurement. At the very end of town, I found a dead end road beach access, walked a short distance, and spent a couple hours singing and playing my guitar> A few people walking their dogs passed by, but I was en drabbe, and attracted no curiousity. Finally my caffeine habit got the best of me, and I went to a bakery with a large painting of Jerry Garcia on the front. It was a large house, with a piano in the lobby, and apparently someone's residence upstairs. I ordered coffee, read the Chronicle, then went up to the restroom, where I washed and shaved my face and underarms. Then drove to Point Reyes, changing into Lili along the way. I figured what the hell, and wore a tight low cut black lace top with only a black bra underneath, and my favorite ruffled floral skirt. I checked out a thrift store, bought a belt and a large paisley clothing bag - better than my gym bag I'd been using - then went to the library to check my e-mail. It is such an incredible convenience that even as small a town as Pt. Reyes has a library with internet access.
I started my long drive to Davis, to meet some TG friends at a gay fraternity drag ball. At a gas station near Napa, a man pointed me out to his young teenage son, who turned to look out their pickup window at me in mild amused curiosity. I wanted to grab my camera, point it at them and yell "Take a picture, it lasts longer," but I resisted the urge. Why cause a confrontation? They didn't seem hostile. I just want people to leave me alone, so there was no reason to confront them. Near Williams I stopped for coffee at a Round Table Pizza. I put on a sweater before I entered. Nice enough waitresses, made a fresh pot for me. I realize now that everywhere I go, as soon as I come face to face with anyone, they know I'm biologically a male. What's the deal - is God or Mother Nature using me for her personal amusement? WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS?
I found Davis, and cruised all around looking for the address of the Vet's hall, but finally had to ask directions. Then changed back to drab, and went to the public library to use the restroom sink to shave again, and maybe wash my hair, after two days on the road. It was closed, so I found the college gymnasium, and strolled in, wearing sweats and a Giants cap. No problems washing my hair in the sink, and I considered taking a shower, but the football team was just coming in, and I didn't quite feel up to showering with all of them. Maybe some would jump at the chance, but not me. I dried my hair with paper towels, and left.
By then it was almost dark, so I did my makeup by flashlight and dressed in the cab of my pickup once again. Then I found a nice big yellow flower for my hair, and went to the ball. I slipped in early, and was able to spend about 15 minutes in the Ladies room touching up my makeup. Then I rent back out into the lobby, and I was asked to go outside, until they were ready for the public. At 9:00, they still weren't ready, so I sat outside on a bench, chitchatting with the security people. When we were permitted to enter, I was the first to sign in for the competition. I thought it may be lip-synching, but I planned to forgo that, get my guitar and actually sing Send Me to The Electric Chair and Women Be Wise, as Lili Holiday, the Blues Bitch. Then I saw a lovely couple who looked like they may be my online friends, whom I'd never met. It was them, and we had a great gab session, comparing our mental images of each other with our real selves.
The music was largely disco, which I used to detest, but even crappy music can sound nice after twenty years. It was loud and pulsating, so I surrendered to the beckoning dancefloor, where I stayed for the next couple hours, gyrating to Gloria Gaynor and Wild Cherry. I was amid quite a colorful crowd, and I finally understood the old anonymous disco sex scene.
Eventually it was time for call to the runway. Somehow I hadn't realized that this was what I had signed up for - I just hoped to win a bottle of champagne or something as a runner up in the costume contest. But this was like a modeling scene! I didn't know what to do, so when the blue-haired emcee called my name, I asked for the microphone to demonstrate my vocal chops, but she wouldn't hand it to me! Damn! So I asked, "You're not gonna let the Blues Bitch sing??" When I got back to the table, my friend said something about being braver than she was. No, I think I was just crazier.
The rest of the bash was kind of a haze. It was over around midnight - too early. I was told the address of another party after, but I truly could not find it. So I found a quiet backstreet, and went to bed.
The next day, Saturday, it was raining, and I realized my vacation was coming to an end. I was almost out of cash, and really needed to get some rest, so I headed home. I stopped about twenty miles from my hometown to remove my nailpolish, and change back to drabbe, in case my teenage child was at home with her friends. As usual, it tore my heart a little to change from Lili back to Lefty, until the next time. I promised myself that someday it won't have to be this way.

April 1998: I finally got out of town, with four dresses in my suitbag, and stopped for a quick shave at the health club on the way. Then in the parking lot I put on a bra, a pink T-shirt and my size C-D mastectomy pads, and a tight denim skirt with dark brown textured tights. I stopped along a back road to put on makeup, then headed to San Francisco. I stopped to call an acquaintance from ETVC, whom I'd never met, never having made it to a meeting, but she was busy. Eventually I got to San Fran, put on a nicer outfit and found Kimo's, which I knew had drag shows on weekends. I was a bit disappointed to find myself the only girl in the place, which wouldn't be bad for some girls, but I was not looking for action, just a little company from some peers. Eventually I asked the bartender what happened to the Wednesday night ladies, and he said they didn't come till the weekends. He told me about another club, called Diva's, down the street, which also was popular with crossdressers. It was literally a hole in the wall, but not shabby - just narrow. But the testosterone in the place was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife. Obviously a pick-up bar, with some girls who may have been genuine, some real beauties. No one hit on me, which was good, but I realized that I was a bit older than the others, with a complexion that was not smooth as silk. My hair isn't bleached either, and I didn't have breasts hanging out the size of cantaloupes. The music was nice, sort of nouveau disco, but much better than that shit they called disco in the past. Pulsating, throbbing. It was quite a scene. Not real comfortable though, with that singles bar sexual tension.
I was about to leave, when a girl who had to be six foot four in heels, with a very fresh attitude, compared to the bored prowling girls who seemed to be the regulars. She looked like a college girl, in a short skirt suit with a sleeveless top. Large nose, but her makeup and vitality made her beautiful. She brought up my spirits as I left. (Note: this is the same girl I later got to know in the above October adventure)
I left the city, and spent the night in my van on the Marin Headlands near Stinson Beach. A little odd sleeping on the side of the roads, but this was Marin County, not Alabama, so I didn't feel the risk of being hauled to jail just for amusement. Then in the morning I put on a denim skirt and drove thru Pt. Reyes, got gas, hit a thrift store & got a cup of coffee, hoping my nine o'clock shadow wasn't too conspicuous. Then to the beach, where I found a deserted ladies room, whipped out a razor and tried to shave with cold water before anyone entered. I cut my lip nicely in my hurry, and it bled and bled and bled. Finally it stopped, and I spent an hour or so on the beach, writing on my novel, (which I hope will be finished sometime this year. You'll find it interesting, I guarantee.) The gnats were pretty heavy that day, so I left, and decided to head to Novato.
I changed into a blue silk dress on the way, along a beautiful drive between Point Reyes Station & Novato. I got drive-thru at a Taco Bell, and found a nice shady park to eat. I hit a few clothing stores, bought a belt, then went to the library to write, and to find some new reading material. Not much on transvestism, but found a great book by George Harrison called I Me Mine and a couple books on Jerry Garcia. But I got a lot of writing done. People probably thought I was a schoolteacher, the way I was dressed.
I started feeling the need to shave again, and felt like taking a whirlpool for my stiff neck. Couldn't find any health clubs that had a jacuzzi, but paid $5 for a gym & shower, as a male obviously, treadmilled awhile, then took a hot shower, had a close shave and left.
I figured I'd see if there was an open mike night anywhere local, since I had my guitar, and look for any situations to play & sing. Nothing, so I figured I'd hit K-Mart for some new foundation and nylons, and head to Guerneville, where I knew there were some gay clubs, in which I might find another TV or two to feel comfortable with. I stopped and refreshed my makeup in another Taco Bell in Petaluma, then headed west out of Santa Rosa.
By the time I got to Guerneville the sidewalks were rolled up - it was mid week - but I finally found a quiet-looking hideaway, which seemed to be a lesbian resort. Oh well, I figured, I might pass. Apparently I did, and ordered a beer. It was just the bartender and her girlfriend, who barely were aware of my presence. I was feeling pretty confident that I was passing, even disguising my baritone voice We eventually conversed, then a gay couple came in for a few minutes, and I said good night and left.
I pulled down the road to an empty lot with a community garden in it, changed into my white negligée and crawled into the back.

The next morning I awoke about 7 AM, with numerous working people up and walking around on their way to the job. Between strollers, I managed to get dressed enough to drive, and found a safeway, where I bought some foundation and motor oil, and used the bathroom for a quick shave. Then returned to the van to put on my makeup. I stopped in a very exotic thrift store/headshop, and wished I had a hundred bucks to blow on some great skirts. Then went for coffee, and spent about an hour catching up on the Chronicle and Press Democrat, in a sunny, secluded patio around back. I was feeling very comfortable, and hated to leave, wanting to spend the day there, but had my fill of caffeine and UV rays.
A couple more clothing stores and a bookstore, and an antique shop. I got in a nice conversation with an elderly woman who ran the shop, to see whether my causal conversation was convincing enough to pass. Apparently it was, since when I finally told her I was dressed enfemme, she seemed quite flabbergasted.
Then on to Cazadero, a town with an exotic name, but a quiet little personality. I had changed into a sleek low cut spagetti-strap tank top, and my favorite funky deadhead skirt, and felt right at home while I asked directions in the general store.
Then on to the coast again. I stopped at Sea Ranch to use the phone, with which I would have to use my normal voice. The phone was in public view - no privacy - so I went back to the van, changed out of drag, wiped off my makeup, and went in again. I made my call home, then went into the mens room and had a leisurely and extremely close shave.
I got redressed along a secluded frontage road, then stopped at a very nice B&B & restaurant for coffee. I got into a conversation with the bartender, and for the first time detected that there was a hint of something he may have been trying to transmit beyond professional schmoozing. I told him a bunch of lies that were plausible, then said goodbye and left. As I was walking thru the parking lot I passed an attractive couple, and after I looked back at the beautiful girl, and saw the guy looking back at me. I wondered whether it was curiousity about my gender, or something else. Interesting.
I stopped at a headland bluff, sat overlooking the sunset and sang a few songs to myself. Eventually as the sun descended it got chilly, so I moved on. I got to a small harbor town, and went out to the cove for a walk along the beach, but it was so cold that I came back in about two minutes. Got to another tiny coastal town, and found an Irish pub where I used to know the bartender, and looked in to see if he was there. He wasn't. I went in and had a huge overpriced glass of ale, and enjoyed the conversation. The new bartender was entertaining, but a bit of a klutz. After about an hour, I went to the restroom, then walked to my van. He came out, and I wondered, what the hell? He came to my window, and asked, "Did you pay me for that beer?" I couldn't believe it. I reminded him of all the ones he gave me in change, and he said, oh, thats right, sorry, and went back inside. What a jerk.
I pulled into the beach access parking lot, and crashed out, looking at the windows of the houses and the apartments of Main Street. Then I woke around 7:30, the last morning of my vacation, as abalone divers arrived to put on their wetsuits in the parking lot. Well, that was that. It was nice while it lasted. So I put on my jeans and went home.

Lili's Day in DC

A few years ago, I was in DC for a business conference, during which I got to do little more exploring than a city library near my hotel. But on the last day, I was offered an extra free stay at the hotel, if I would stay over a night - overbooked flight or something. I said of course! I had fortunately packed some more exotic clothes than my suits and sweats, so I shaved, got dressed and took the back elevator to the lobby, and took a walkaround. But I wanted to sightsee, so I cut that short, crashed early, then spent the next day en femme. I had a sort of black and white plaid skirt that matched a sport coat I've had since highschool - not exactly tailored right, but OK - and a white lacy blouse. I wore comfortable shoes for lots of hiking - Chinese strapped canvas flats. Looked OK, then grabbed an ugly parka, and headed for the mall, or whatever they call that strip on Constitution ave. I spotted the National Archives first, saw the declaration, stood in a long line, with security guards eying everybody, trying to blend in. One approached me and said, Miss, you have to go through the line from the other end. OOPS. sorry. I figured I'd better check my make-up, so found the ladies room, and made it quick. An ultra-conservative establishment, to say the least. I was a little nervous, but I figured, what the hell are they going to do? strip search me? They might. Oh well.
Then I went towards the Smithsonian Naturaal History museum, and while I was strolling down the boulevard, I felt my skirt slipping. HOLY SHIT! Fortunately I caught before it fell all the way down. The silly little hook in back came undone. Managed to get it back up without attracting attention, I think. So I headed for the nearest public building and found another ladies' room to adjust myself. Well, after that, I figured what else can happen, & I was just about ready for anything. So I said what the hell, and felt much more casual.
Saw the Holicaust museum, then finally made the long hike up the Hill to the library. It sure was breezy there in nylons in December. Unfortunately it was Saturday, so I couldn't get past the main browsing room, & didn't find any TV or TG resources. Fortunately with the web, we have it all at our fingertips, don't we. When it started looking like late afternoon, I hit the joan again, and started hiking back. I must have been easily two miles. I was on a tight budget, so I didn't call a cab, but stopped in Union station for as long as I could to warm up. Jezus it was cold. Started snowing even. Finally got back to the hotel, feeling just like I did in the midwest walking home from school in the winter, chilled to the bone. Took a long hot bath, and the next day sadly returned to my "normal" clothes and caught the plane back home.

A Resort Vacation

Then there was the time several years ago when I really needed a rest, so I took advantage of some free resort tickets I'd acquired. It was a pretty nice place on a lake, sometime in November. I checked in in drab, then immediately changed into various outfits, changing throughout the night. Despite not having a corkscrew, I popped open a bottle of red wine with a knife while I was wearing a white skirt suit - big mistake. Of course it splattered, which somewhat ruined the hypnotic mood I was in, but I cleaned up, and started writing a story, which is developing into a novel, inspired by that evening's events, including those I fantasized. I went for a walk after dark, and sat on the balcony for a long time. It was truly a night I'll always remember, even though it never went any further.
The next day I wore for the first time a blue silk dress, which is still my favorite for outings. I drove all the way around the lake, stopping at all the second hand clothing stores that were listed in the yellow pages. I didn't buy anything, I just like to browse mostly. But realized that in that context I had no problem passing - probably because I didn't talk, except to say thank you when a nice elderly lady said she liked my shoes. I appreciated that, since they were killing my feet!
I eventually stopped at a sub sandwich shop, with a boy about sixteen behind the counter. I took a deep breath and asked for a cup of coffee in an unpracticed high voice. I was sure he read me, because he seemed very nervous, making silly small talk, like "Nothing like a cup of hot coffee on a chilly day," etc. But now I think maybe he was just trying to be nice. The only other thing I said all day was "Five" after I pumped gas. The clerk was on the phone, and hardly glanced as she smiled and said thank you.
That evening, back at the resort, I tried getting rid of my whisker shadow with Nair - didn't work. Then I put on some bleach cream, and burned the hell out of my face. I guess the two were a dangerous combination. Don't try it! It left my cheeks, throat and chin bright red all the next day.

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