I went there knowing I was psychologically ready, but even so, I just couldn't imagine ahead of time what it would be like. It felt as if I were a rose bud that had suddenly been hit by the sun...Karen just burst into bloom! That's the only way to describe it. As a new girl, I was one of about 30 or so who met every morning at the Koffee Klatch sessions, where we were urged to "push our envelopes." Push the envelope? I couldn't find the envelope to push. It was like someone had simply torn it up and thrown the little bits away. I dressed. I went out about the hotel, shopped in town, ate in the restaurants, all with my head held high and a smile on my face that just couldn't go away. We laughed, we hugged, we held each others' hands, we wept. (Tears of joy, mostly, but some of the other ones, too.)
I had forgotten what it was like to be truly alive. I had forgotten what joy there is in the world. I had forgotten how wonderful it is just to walk across a parking lot under a bright and sunlit sky.
Yes, the workshops were fun. I did the Crossdressing 101, the basic makeup session, the session on choosing your first wig. (Frankly, mine was nicer than anything I saw there...and a whole lot more natural looking), and others. But in the later days I found myself skipping some of the workshops because I wanted to be "out there." Port Angeles has become a lovely little seaside town, that is just beginning to recreate itself in the nicest possible way. It is filled with dozens of tiny artisans' shops: glass works, wooden toys, fabric arts, antique shops, and so on. It was so nice just to poke through them and visit with people. How nice to be welcomed so warmly, even regarded as a bit "exotic," rather than simply weird. (Well, maybe they thought we WERE weird, but I never got a sense of that anywhere. It felt pretty nice!)
I had to leave two days early...I had a family committment back home that couldn't be avoided. That was hard, but I went home enfemme. This definitely was pushing my envelope. Before Esprit, I'd been out exactly twice...to a support group meeting, after dark. (Not to mix my metaphors, but I was definitely stepping out of the protective bubble.)
Butstop. I am getting ahead of myself. You know the most wonderful thing that happened while I was there? (Strictly from a personal point of view) I had my first makeover. Following the basic makeup demo in the morning, I decided I would spend the money and make an appointment. Late that afternoon, I walked up to the cosmetics counter at the local department store and sat down in front of Jaimie, the young woman who did the demo earlier that morning.
"Come at five," she said, "and we'll just play."
While she worked, she asked me (if I was comfortable) to tell her a bit about my journey as a CDer...so I sketched it out for her, briefly. Then she started telling me about her own life: 25 years old, married and divorced from a "deadbeat dad" who abused her, 5 year old daughter (who had accompanied her last year to one of the functions at Esprit, and met some of the 'girls.") It was a very "feminine" exchange...this sharing of stories. As well you know, men just don't do that sort of thing...not among themselves. All that stuff is kept very, very private.We learn early and are reminded often that it is dangerous to share.
While all this was going on, she was working on my face. She wouldn't let me look until she was done. Finally, she stepped back and handed me the mirror. "What do you think?" she asked.
I couldn't speak. I had to turn away. My hand went to my mouth. I turned and looked again. There was Karen. She was beautiful. And she was me. Then I burst into tears.
"I"m going to ruin my eyes!" I cried, when I could finally find my voice.
She just laughed. "Don't worry, we can fix it!"
It was several moments before I could choke out, "I've never felt beautiful in my whole life." And I dabbed at my eyes again.
"But you are," she said. "You are a beautiful human being," and gave me a big, warm hug.
So I mopped my eyes...several times. And she fixed me up again. Oh, what a beautiful glow!
You know, males aren't supposed to want to be beautiful. But in that moment, I realized that it was something I had been longing for my whole life.
And no, I didn't buy everything in the store.
I asked her how much we had spent, she asked me again what my budget was. I told her $100. "Okay," she said. She did my chart and ticked off everything she had used: concealer, highlighter, shadow, all that stuff. This was $20; this was $20, and so on. If I were to buy everything she had used, it would have come to well over double my budget. "What do you have already?" she asked.
Some Mary Kay foundation, eye liner, eyebrow pencil, some clumpy old mascara, a tube of lipstick. That was about it.
"Okay. You don't need everything we used. Throw out the mascare. I can give you some fresh. We can fix you up with the basics." So I got my shadow, highlighter, concealer, moisturizer, blush,...and so on...plus what has to be one of the most wonderful experiences of my life, (She even showed me how I could recreate the look myself, next day.) Oh, and there was the complimentary gift package that went along with the purchase: moisturizer, more mascara, "wrinkle" cream for those crow's feet around the eyes, some nail polish, and a couple of tiny samples of very nice perfume (Chanel #5 and "Pleasure" by Elizabeth Arden...both very light and delicate, I thought. I like them both.) All for $70. Probably the best $70 I've spent in a long, long time.
I'd better stop here. Your eyes will be getting sore if I write much more.
(But there is more: all of it good! Especially at home. I'll have to fill you in on that chapter later on.)
I feel like I've come back to life again. Just had to share the news with someone who knows what a journey it's been.
More to come, I promise! I'm sending you all my love...and my joy as well. If this is what wearing a skirt can mean, then I say, "Bring it on!" (It'll be a great excuse to go shopping for shoes!)
Hugs,
Karen
Congratulations Karen.
