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I was a teenage mall walker

During my bi yearly crossdressing periods, I had a massive urge to go out dressed but needed somewhere to go. The logical place became the mall but only if it was sufficiently sparse so not to send me into a sheer panic.

Back then I would dress in my little second hand Toyota and wait until the coast was clear before proceeding to the least frequented door of the shopping center. Once I was in it was all about looking inconspicuous as I walked down the ailes never looking anyone in the eye.

The sheer terror and the seriousness of it all brings a smile to my face today, but back then it was not a laughing matter.

My aim was always the same: enjoy that calming wonderful experience as a normal woman going about her daily business.

Back then I was slimmer and prettier but my complete lack of confidence, passable voice and poor female posture and walk gave me away. I remember one instance going into Sears to buy some pantyhose. I couldn't have been older than 20 and I was doing fine with the saleslady until she saw my large hairy and uncreamed hands. Once the jig was up she gave me an indignant upward sniff with her nose and held out the package to me as if it were a soiled diaper. Completely crushed, I took my purchase and skulked back to my vehicle.

I could have drawn energy from having passed as long as I did and just resolve to shave my hands and forearms and apply hand cream but instead I threw everything out in disgust promising myself never to do it again.

I played this charade until my early forties and earnestly believed that I could continue my bi yearly indulgence indefinitely.

My how we learn.

I could have enjoyed those years much better and simply have drawn energy from these outings but I was deep into denial and suffering from lack of self knowledge. The internet had not yet been invented by Al Gore (grin) and all I knew about crossdressing I learned from encyclopedia Britannica or seedy looking books at the library.

I look back on those days with more fondness than they perhaps deserve in large part due to the myopia that rose coloured glasses afford us when we glance into our past.

Yes I was a teenage mall walker and everytime my confident self steps into a mall in my high heels, I remember what effort it took to get here. I guess sometimes we need to get burned again and again to finally learn.

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