4 years ago today, I decided not to go to bed for our 6am flight back home from Budapest, where we had just spent a lovely weekend in a classic spa hotel, walking around the city for much of the time.
That weekend, I had asked my partner permission to – for the first time, and in a city not our own – be presenting fully female without the fear of being recognised, and she lovingly agreed.
My suitcase for the weekend was at max weight, she basically threw a few items in a carry-on bag. The contrast! <3
On the flight to Budapest, I had worn Laura’s (Laura-to-be, actually, as I had not picked a name yet) clothes, but no bra & filling, or makeup. I had been “Welcome, goodbye, would you sir”-ed four out of four times on the flight, and I was actually a bit sad and upset about it. I had hoped to at least once, get an “Eeeuhhm…. ma’… eeuuh, si’…. euuh, welcome”, but it wasn’t to be.
We were going to go for a walk soon after arriving in Budapest, so I dressed up the way I thought I’d look good, got some help, and put on a nice pair of boots with an 8cm heel (turns out, they were 1-2 sizes too small for me, but I didn’t notice, really, not even 28km later), and I felt such a sigh of relief, so much weight fell off of my shoulders.
I felt free, I felt pretty, I felt “me”! Finally.
Until then, in the 4 months I had been home since the world tour had ended, I had experimented with bits and pieces here and there, but never “full”, it was always a combination of “something old, something new”.
Back to that night before Valentine’s Day, I was getting dressed for the flight, and then straight to my first therapy session to figure out whether what I felt was actually “real”.
As I was contemplating what to wear, which combination of clothes would go well, and whether I’d wear my bra & filling, my partner had gone to bed, sort of frustrated I didn’t join them, but understanding nevertheless.
By the time they woke up again, and we got ready to leave for the airport, they expressed worries about me having decided to dress up, including bra. What would happen to me at the airport?!? (Knowing that Hungary is not exactly LGBTQIA+ friendly).
I calmed them, I had figured out what they could and would do, and what they couldn’t; and I knew I’d be safe, and at worst, possibly a bit embarrassed.
Fast forward to the airport and security check; all when smooth, and I was checked by a female security officer, and was treated with respect. On to the lounge then, after my partner had found a pretty dress at the Desigual store, and get a warm drink before the flight.
Would I be “sir”-ed or “ma’m”-ed upon entering the plane? I was really focused on it.
(And before you ask, I have a photo of how I looked that day, what my poor makeup skills did for me, and how my voice and 5 o’clock shadow showed).
“Good morning, ma’m!” <3 <3 <3
I smiled. So much.
And this was repeated a few more times during the flight, for our breakfast, our warm drinks, and when disembarking.
Screw ever getting back to wearing my old clothes, and continue masquerading as a male being.
No more!. Ever!
