March Madness
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March First free porn video
March First
March First was a brisk, sunny day. I drove home from work after the
most fantastic ordinary day I ever had at work, a dream come true. I
was wearing a black suit, the skirt going just to my knees, a white
shell, white hose and black patent leather pumps with grosgrain bows
and 2" tapered heels. I wore no wig, makeup or false breasts. Everyone
could see all day that I was a man in a skirt and heels. How was this
possible?
At the start of last year, I and, evidently, millions of other like-
minded men work clothes traditionally reserved for women in secret. We
dressed alone or in small groups of like-minded individuals. We created
space for our desires as best we could, managing the risk of discovery
and disapproval by those we knew. We never knew who else in our lives
also secretly longed to be accepted in feminine attire. We had no
inkling what business, social and government leaders work dresses in
whatever secrecy was available to them.
Including the President of the United States.
It was truly amazing that a man could reach highest office, after a
lifetime of elected public service including the House of
Representatives, without having that "skeleton in his closet" revealed.
I can't imagine the weight he carried in his mind all this time. It's
not like an earlier day, when the press would overlook FDR's mistress
and conspire to avoid showing his inability to walk unaided. He had to
know that there would be a day of reckoning sometime. Or did he? He
would not have been the first political figure, surrounded by a cocoon
of sycophants and fed a steady diet of his own press clippings, to come
to the belief that he could indulge in any behavior without
consequence.
In the summer of the second year of his first term he was outed. We
still don't know who in the White House was in on it, or what their
motives were. Pictures of the President in a dress appeared in the
media. The pictures were Polaroids that stood up to expert scrutiny.
Everyone who saw them agreed that they were authentic, not a darkroom
stunt where someone places the image of the President's head on an
actress's body.
The story broke during a slow news season and hit the streets like a
bomb. There was an immediate wave of off-color jokes about it. As did
countless others like me, I endured hearing the stories, the
denunciations and the jokes at work and guarded my reactions.
Two days after the first word came out, a presidential press conference
was scheduled on the networks that evening. All the talk on TV and in
the office was about how he was going to handle it. Most people
expected him to deny it and to attack the story, but did not think that
approach likely to succeed. But the commentators saw few other
alternatives for him. There were a few voices asking, "So what if he
wears a dress?" But they were drowned in the clamor of the story.
I imagine that he had similar discussions with his handlers and
operatives. The story was past the point of plausible deniability.
Congressional campaigns were in full swing; thirty-three Senate seats
and the entire House. Members of his party had been interviewed on
television, their moods ranging from defensive to frantic. How do you
handle something like this?
The speech that night was given in the White House press room. The
Press Secretary introduced the President. To stunned silence, he walked
into the room wearing a turquoise skirted suit and matching pumps. His
wife entered with him, but stayed at the side of the room. There was a
close-up of him as he walked, and I noticed he was wearing earrings. He
took a place in front of the podium, so everyone could see he was
wearing a skirt. He looked like a man in a skirt because he was a man
in a skirt. But he was wearing clothing and accessories no different
than a woman in the Senate might wear. The Press Secretary pulled a
microphone from its holder on the podium and handed it forward to the
President. He braced himself and began to speak.
"My fellow Americans: You have been hearing a great deal of public
discussion over the past two days in reference to my wearing 'women's
clothes', those being clothes such as dresses and skirted suits that
women wear but men are socially expected not to. As you can see, I did
not come here to deny this. Rather, I come before you to take this
discussion to a higher level.
"The way I am dressed as I stand before you is not an impeachable
offense. In fact, the Supreme Court found, in the 1989 *Price
Waterhouse vs. Hopkins* decision, that harassment directed at a person
because that person does not conform to traditional sex stereotypes is
an illegal act, in violation of Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of
1964.
"I am prepared to clarify my activities, as there seems to be some
degree of confusion evidenced in the public discussions. I like to wear
what are commonly referred to as 'women's clothes.' I have no desire to
have sexual reassignment surgery or otherwise live with a female
identity. Neither am I interested in a love relationship with another
man. I am in an entirely satisfactory loving relationship with my wife,
and I would like to take this opportunity to publicly thank her for her
love and support. She has known of my interest in this for many years
and has helped me, both by shopping for me and helping me to put
together a look that is tasteful and appropriate.
"When I was campaigning for this office, there was some amount of
public discussion to the effect that I was a member of the white male
elite establishment; that I had led a life of privilege and could never
know what it meant to be on the margins of society. As you are
discovering, my wearing skirts puts me in a population that is
marginalized by many members of society. My many years of doing this
has given me a unique opportunity to learn how the other half lives.
"I do not regret that my dressing was discovered. This provides me with
an opportunity to make life better for untold numbers of other
Americans who wish they could be accepted in a dress but feel they
cannot because they happen to be men. Fifty years ago we fought to stop
the judgment of citizens by the color of their skin. Now I call on all
Americans to stop the judgment of citizens by the color of their
clothes, or whether they wear skirts or pants."
Then he took a few questions from the press. A woman asked, "How many
years have you been wearing dresses?"
"Since before holding elected office, even at the state level."
A man was called on. "Many religious leaders contend that it is morally
wrong for a man to wear women's clothes. How would you respond?"
"They should not have me as a member of their churches."
A man spoke next. "Are you comparing crossdressing to being African-
American?"
"Not at all. I don't think it's possible to compare dissimilar
experiences and I don't want to play 'My victimization is greater than
yours.' Moreover, I chose membership in a group marginalized by some
elements of society when I chose to dress like this. I could choose to
stop, though I will not. I would -- I would not like living without
this, but I could choose to do so. A black person doesn't choose to be
black and can't choose not to, Michael Jackson notwithstanding. My
point is that I want to get to a society that judges a person by the
content of his or her character."
Next a woman was called on. "What will change now in your personal life
as a result of this?"
"I will be able to do my own shopping. Thank you and good night." With
that, he walked off. He had the gait of a man; his ass didn't swing
noticeably from side to side.
That had to have been the shortest presidential speech since the
Gettysburg Address. The commentators who came on after the speech
seemed to have been completely wrongfooted, their prepared remarks
rendered irrelevant. A few closed-minded individuals stuck to their
hard-line denunciations, but they weren't getting any traction with
their colleagues on their own panels.
I sat on the couch watching all this, wearing my black slip and my red
patent pumps. For the first time since the story broke, I felt hopeful.
I looked down at my toes and imagined them gleaming in the sunlight.
The next day, I listened to discussions at work. Some of the people who
had ridiculed the President during the past two days were less forward
now, although others were just as sure of themselves. But many more
people who were sympathetic to the President, to crossdressers or to
liberalism in general were more vocal. What had been a turkey shoot
prior to the speech was becoming a debate.
The media was also less sure of itself. In the following days, some
media outlets started educating people on the differences between gays,
crossdressers, drag queens and transsexuals. Also, with the pundits
less sure of their ground, there were a lot of interviews with people
on the street. The range of opinions was very wide, although more women
than men that I saw were open-minded about it. I found that
interesting, but reminded myself that this was a very small sample.
Before a week had gone by, the homosexual communities had begun to call
for tolerance. When some of the gay men spoke, you could see their
hearts weren't in it, but they could hardly take positions as bigots.
The lesbians were much more sincere and credible.
All the amateur proctologists in the media crawled over every corner of
Washington as well as the President's home state. They found no
evidence that he had ever had an extramarital affair with a man or a
woman. There was a palpable sense of disappointment in the world of
journalism.
Just before Labor Day, a national support group for crossdressers
issued a public call for all men who supported the president to wear a
dress or skirt to work on September 16th. They called it "Take a Stand
Day." It was tactically shrewd of them to identify it with support of
the President, since it left anyone participating an out: "I don't
dress like this normally; I'm showing my support for the President."
Nevertheless, it was risky. I was mortally terrified that I would be
the only man in the company to show up in a dress, and decided not to
participate.
On the sixteenth, a few men in the company did dress up. One was my
vice-president. He was wearing a black skirted suit and black tailored
pumps. I had never spoken to the man one-on-one, but I felt that I had
let him down by not getting involved. I went home feeling badly about
having chickened out.
I watched the eleven o'clock news, which I don't usually do, to see if
there was any coverage of Take a Stand Day. There were some interviews
with men in dresses, stating their support of the President and calling
for more open-mindedness in society. Journalistic opinion seemed to be
that the day was not a failure for its organizers, but not an
outstanding success either. There was also a story about one man who
came to his job dressed and was pelted with food by some co-workers.
The company had suspended the food throwers for a day without pay and
the District Attorney's office was reviewing the case for possible
civil rights litigation. One of the participants was interviewed and
was hotly indignant. "We're the normal ones," he said, "and we're being
punished." A company spokeswoman said that the company policy was to
provide a work environment that accepted diversity, and that policy
would be upheld. A station editorial excoriated the food throwers for
their bigotry.
The next day at work, many of the people who were voluble in their
denunciations of crossdressers earlier had much less to say. The sight
of several influential men in the company in skirts combined with the
news item about the harassment has sobered them up a bit. They were
starting to realize that they did not necessarily know whether any man
they were talking to was himself a crossdresser.
The debate continued on into October. Several commentators of both
genders started asking why it was okay for women to wear men's clothes,
while men were proscribed from wearing dresses. In only a few
congressional races, the opposition party was having success making an
issue of the President wearing a skirt. In the cities, no one was even
stupid enough to try.
There was a detailed show on PBS about gender issues. At one point they
interviewed a psychologist and asked him what proportion of the
crossdressers were heterosexual. His response was, "We don't know. We
don't have a denominator. We don't know how many men are doing this
privately, how many men wish they could do it but they're scared to
acquire the clothes."
Because I have investments, I read the financial news. Apparel
retailers were rubbing their hands with glee at the prospect of getting
men into clothes with color palettes and skirt lengths that go in and
out of fashion. The share prices of two major women's retailers were up
over 10% from July just on the possibility of having men being able to
wear women's clothes in public. No moral posturing is able to outshout
the dollar.
Sensing that one final push could be decisive, the crossdressing
support organization called for another Take a Stand Day on the day
before Election Day. After the last experience, there was no way I was
going to sit this one out. I picked out a blue skirted suit and a pair
of bone pumps with 2" heels. Every weekend in October, I spent as much
time as possible walking around inside in my 5" red pumps, so that I
would be in practice. I knew that I was sure to hear it from at least
one woman if I took my shoes off even once at work. I selected a simple
silver necklace and earrings to wear.
At last the big day arrived. I dressed and put my shoes and jewelry on.
I picked up my wallet, cell phone and keys -- and suddenly realized I
had no pockets. Now what? I didn't own a purse. I couldn't back down. I
threw it all into my attach? case and set off for work. When I got in,
I locked my wallet in my desk. I had to carry my keys around in my hand
all morning.
As I walked around work, I got comments like, "Look at you!" from some
of the women. A few gave me the wolf whistle or the high sign. I was
surprised at how many men came in dressed. Styles ranged widely. Some
were dowdy and a few were rather skanky. I saw more than one mini-
skirt, and plenty of open toes.
Several men in my department were dressed, including my manager. This
last was a shock. My VP I hardly knew. My director was a woman. But my
manager was kind of bluff and blunt. He souped up cars in his spare
time. He hunted deer. I don't know if the images just didn't square in
my mind, or whether it was because he was an authority figure I had
spent a lot of time in front of. He was appropriately dressed, wearing
a blouse, khaki A-line skirt and black flats. But I had a hard time
getting used to seeing him dressed.
Late in the morning I approached Candice, a female co-worker who had
made a favorable comment, and said, "I need some help."
"With what?"
"I have to go out at lunch and buy a purse. Will you come and help?"
Candice readily agreed, volunteering to drive. She offered to carry my
wallet in her purse until I got one. We went to a nearby shopping
center. I asked her about color choices. "Black goes with everything,"
was her reply. I picked up a small rectangular black purse, but Candice
shook her head. "You won't be able to carry everything you want in
that." She found me a roomier black purse with thicker shoulder straps.
After we purchased it, we went off to eat. She had a lot of questions
for me. She asked how much I crossdressed.
"I have several outfits, but this was the first time I've been out
dressed in public."
"How does it feel?"
"Exhilarating. And a little scary."
"You're going to find that women's clothes are mostly a pain in the
ass. When the novelty wears off, you may not enjoy it as much."
"That's easy for you to say. You have always had the choice of whether
or not to dress up."
I enjoyed the afternoon more, since I didn't have to sit with my keys
in my lap. On her way out, Candice stopped by. "How do your feet feel?"
"No problems."
"Really? In those heels?"
"I wear higher heels at home. These are no worse than my men's dress
shoes."
She looked at me with a mixture of disbelief and outright shock.
The press reaction that day was that it was a resounding success for
its organizer. Many commentators expressed surprise at reports of how
many men went to work dressed, particularly corporate officers.
Next day voter turnout was high. For whatever reason, the President's
party picked up nine seats in the House and held its position in the
Senate.
Crossdressing was still a topic of media discussion, but the bigots
were on the defensive now. You could feel the shift in the tone. Just
before Thanksgiving, several women's retailers started running ads
offering men fashion and fitting help. I felt that we were finally
turning the corner.
In December, several business groups coordinated a summit, after which
the participants announced that they would target March 1 of the
following year to welcome those men who wanted to wear skirts or
dresses to work to do so. This would give those companies that had
dress codes the intervening time to ready revisions to accommodate
this. Most other companies tacitly followed this lead. That is how
March 1st came to be The Big Day. Of course, many men fashion, art and
entertainment weren't waiting and were already out in front on this.
In January, the crossdressing support organization started a circular
going around the Web. Sensing that defeat could still be snatched from
the jaws of victory by carelessness or exuberance, they issued
recommendations for those wanting to take advantage of the new
flexibility. In addition to providing general guidelines for the
workplace, such as skirts no shorter than above the knee, they
recommended a two-month transition period where muted colors and
conservative styles would rule.
By the third week of February, I was already going crazy with
anticipation waiting for the month to end. The shoe stores were loading
up in men's sizes, and I found the black patent tuxedo pumps I had
always dreamed of wearing. I spent days thinking about what my first
outfit would be, but after I found those pumps, they were going to be
part of it. Finally I settled on my black suit. White hose would make
my new shoes more noticeable.
The first of March was like a dream come true. I was going to go about
my daily life dressed up, and it was going to be acceptable. Nothing
substantial happened at work from a work content point of view, but it
was a great day. Candice wore a green jumper and taupe pumps for the
occasion.
When I remarked on that, she said, "Well, I have to be competitive."
Then she walked over to me and put her hands on the outsides of my
knees, pushing them together. "Michael, if you want to wear a skirt,
you have to learn to sit proper."
On my way home, I decided to stop and look at shoes. Any day is a great
day to get shoes. The first day I can go to work in a skirt is a
fantastic day. The store was having a sale: buy two pair, get half off
the third. They had heels in my size and, best of all, they had colors.
I picked up a 4" pump and asked what colors were available. Red, royal
blue, lilac, bright green, yellow, fuchsia.
"Yes."
They were real leather, too, soft and lovely, inviting to look at and
touch. So what if I can't wear them to work? There will be other
occasions. I walked out with all six pair. The perfect ending to a
wonderful day.
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