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 ?

So, this is fun.

I am a big guy, so the proceedure for me is a trifle bit different than some men.

I live in a very conservative area of Illinois, Rockford, specifically. So, dressing in drag had to be "allowed," at least tacetly. I did it on Halloween. The city is pretty intolerant of alternative lifestyles.

The Preperation

Early that day I spent my time in a JC Penny Outlet Store, looking for a bra, skirt, pantyhose (I actually wanted stockings and a garter, but I couldn't find any in my size), and a nice sweater to help conceal my bulk, and a men's long sleeved dress shirt.

My wife says that I have womanly legs, which is fortunate, because it offsets my really large bone structure. They're curvy. I shaved my legs, which took longer than I thought, about an hour. What? I never did it before. (I can tell you this, it felt awfully weird when the hair started to grow back and caught on the inside of my jeans.) I couldn't find shoes in men's 13 size that looked appropriate, so I wore my boots under the assumption that people rarely look at other people's shoes. At least most men, who were the main target of my observation. This year I have shoes that look like Candies, so if I decide to go again, I'll be prepared.

The bra was stuffed with toilet paper. The butt tape kind of itched after a while because I would sweat, so often I could be found rotating the TP around in the bra (size 48D) for maximum comfort. The sweater was nice and long sleeved. We chose this so I wouldn't have to shave my arms. I put on the bra, the dress shirt, then the sweater on top of it all, and cuffed up the ends of the dress shirt over the sweater's sleeve. It actually looked nice, IMO, but my boobs looked fake because of their perkyness. I probably could have solved this problem by wearing a simple white T-shirt under the bra.

The skirt and pantyhose went on last. I was hoping for a plaid skirt, for a more school-girl look, but couldn't find any, and we looked for a bit, so we settled on a simple black one, with sheer dark stockings. The skirt was kind of long on me, so I hiked it up to about mid-thigh. Under the covers, I wore tighty-whiteys, but I usually go with boxer shorts. That's not important right now, but what was important was this question:

To Tape, or Not To Tape?

Men generallly have penises. This is the way things are. When trying to pass ones-self off as a member of the gentler sex, things can go awry, such as unexpected penile excitement, or simply there may be a bulge where there should be a soft, flat area. I could find no acceptable method of restraining my member that may help, so, and I confess, I used Scotch Tape. I do not recommend this. It itched, and unless you are prepared, removal may be painful. Hell, movement may be painful. The tape's got your short hairs, no matter how careful you are. Although I was never a Boy Scout, I was a Cub Scout, so I have a vague idea about being prepared. I sweated a lot, as well.

But that's enough about my testicles.

Make-up was provided and applied by my then-girlfriend, now wife, who said constantly that she couldn't believe I was doing this. Shave the face, add mascara, eye liner, foundation, lipstick. Both me and my daughter are blessed with extremely long eyelashes. This helped. I already had long hair, so we lovingly combed it and put it up in pig-tails.

Then came the fun part.


First reaction: My wife wouldn't kiss me when I was dressed up.

Second: I decide really don't look that much like a girl, at least my face doesn't. The rest of me is dead sexy.

Third: "Oh my God"'s from family members including my sister, mother, and step-father.

Fourth: People really don't like people who aren't like them. From a distance of more than, say, 10 meters, most people don't seem to notice. Women notice an impostor in their midst more readily than men do. I stayed quiet, so I really didn't have much of the male voice problems. As people came closer, at least for me, recognition of what I was approached, I'd say, about 70 percent. YMMV.

I scared the crap out of my 2 year old neice and nephew, too. They barely know me and any recognition of who I was immediately departed. My sister-in-law barely acknowledged it, though I'm sure she had something to say behind closed doors.

Other Observations

I felt sexy, at least away from any mirror. All curvy and other fun stuff. I am really envious of all the cool outfits that women can wear.

Around here there are plenty of gay people, and they seem at least tolerated, if not accepted; but there is a lack of transgender/sexual people. I know of one post-op (now female), but have never met her. She is constantly belittled when she is discussed. It's a possiblity that she's just worthy of contempt as a person, but most of the humor is based on what she is and how poorly she has adapted to her new role (still has a husky voice, etc.) and not who she is as a person. I find this unfortunate.

I had a lot of fun dressing up, and would like to do it again, but probably in a more open atmosphere of perhaps a larger city.

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