SRU High School Reunion
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Marybeth's High School Reunion free porn video
MARYBETH'S HIGH SCHOOL REUNION
If you've been following the story of my life, you know how I grew up
always feeling I was feminine, even though throughout my life I had to
disquise myself and my true self to fit in and meet my perceived
responsibilities. How I fought to become a member of the YLRL (a
women's ham radio group) and eventually began living full-time as a
woman, even though I cant have full gender reconstructive surgery at
this late date. This one is a short about another significant event in
my life-my fiftieth high school reunion, held of course in a hotel in my
home town, not where I life now. Since I hadn't seen my classmates (most
of them anyway) in almost half a century, and most of them hadn't seen
ME either-I decided that if I was going to be true to who I now was, I
should go. I went just about everywhere else as a woman, this shouldn't
be any different.
The committee (several of the A list girls in the class-Maura, Michelle,
Pamela, Marlene and a few others) had been meeting for several years to
plan for the event. It was originally meant to be held late spring of
2020-exactly fifty years since the class graduation. Then of course,
along came Covid. The class facebook page was buzzing, and eventually
things calmed down, and the event was to be held in fall of 2021. Since
plans were already made, very few changes had to be made, and the
announcement was made, tickets were sold, the hotel reservations for the
out of towners were made available, and everything was ready for the
class of 1970 to get together again and party.
I of course, decided to go-though there might be a few surprised looks
or comments from my erstwhile classmates-especially if one of my VERY
few girlfriends from back then were in attendance. Such as my senior
prom date. And remembering that this was a class that started school in
the mid 1960s, some of the males might be somewhat hostile. But hey,
I'd faced that before, and was sure I could handle anything that
happened on this night.
So, I sent Marlene the $90 for my ticket-only one, as significant others
didn't normally attend these things, since they wouldn't know anyone-
except for the few couples that had both attended the same school,
including one or two who married classmates. And made my hotel
reservation. And since I lived in Delaware, a plane ticket wasn't
necessary, it was only a two hour drive up I-95 to the Turnpike to I-195
and down some back roads to my home town, then making my way to the
hotel. Of course I knew where it was. Just like my trip to the ham
convention, I travelled as my true self. I wore a black knee length
skirt with an aqua top and black flats-my hair in a ponytail. I wore
minimal makeup, but no way do I ever leave the house with none. As I've
previously stated, I'm not that young girl anymore who can pass
anywhere, and I very often get clocked. Usually there's no problem.
There wasn't checking into the hotel either-though none of my classmates
seemed to be in evidence yet. I'm sure as soon as one sighted me, it
would be all over the group of attendees before dinner that night.
Nothing I could do about it-and they'd all see me soon anyway. So I
parked my car, grabbed my suitcases and walked into the lobby to check
in. Of course, I gave my true name, the one on my Delaware drivers
license, not the deadname I'd attended school as, though that's how the
invite had been addressed. I knew I'd have to change that at checkin,
like some of the married women whose married names weren't known to the
committee either. I knew some just chose to go with those names rather
than their new ones. But I wasn't going to go by my deadname, I was
Marybeth, dammit. And that's how I'd be introduced.
Since I left home abound 9 am, I got there around 11, just in time for
lunch. I went over to a little caf? a few blocks from the hotel, as
myself of course, and ordered a nice salad and coffee. Didn't want to
fill up too much. Having several hours to kill, I decided to shoot over
to Dream Nails, a few blocks from my old house for some tips and a
polish change. Like every other woman, I planned on looking my absolute
best when I met my classmates. I didn't bother with with a pedi,
because my heels were closed toe, and nobody would see them. So I got
them lengthened a quarter inch past my fingertips and polished a bright
gleaming red-gotta be noticed, right. I kind of go with red nails a lot
of the time, maybe making up for all the time I couldn't wear it at all?
Who knows. I spent a little time in some of my old haunts (drove past
the school, along with a few other cars that seemed to be doing the same
thing) and hit Barnes and Noble for a bit. Then I went back to the
hotel to get ready.
I knew some of the other ladies would be wearing a nice slacks outfit,
mostly rather casual. But not all. And I planned on making my status
absolutely clear. I was going to be in a nice dress and heels, with
silver jewelry and makeup appropriate for such a festive occasion. So I
pulled my things out of the clothing bag and suitcase that I would need
for the evening. Stripping down, I showered and washed my hair. I had
dipilitized the day before so I didnt have to spend time on that. A
nice bath powder to match the perfume I'd be wearing later, spending
some time drying and fixing my hair and then getting dressed. Black
lace bra and panty set-I do have cleavage remember, just not a C-cup.
Enough so that I don't need enhancers, anyway. Stockings and garter
belt for impact (to myself anyway) and a black lacy slip. Ok, I like
being a girl, now that I can be one. Then my dress. A nice royal blue
A-line, just over the knee with three quarter sleeves and a keyhole
neckline. Black pumps with a thin three inch heel. I'd be a little
tall maybe, but since girl's sports were just starting up back then, a
few girls on the basketball team were in the same range. Did I mention
that with the exception of a few latino kids and one Asian girl, out
class had NO minority members in it? Not surprising, the town at the
time was all single family homes, and the town fathers of the fifties
and sixties figured it was the best way to keep the community
segregated, though they didn't use that term. There was exactly ONE
black family in town as I remember-a rather wealthy dentist believe it
or not. Happily, the place is a little more enlightened now. So it's
stereotypical, but the basketball team didn't have a plethora of tall
urban girls in it like some did. Just the way it was and can't change
the past-this was the mid sixties when we got into high school, right?
So then makeup-which I love applying and wearing. Maybe if I was a
cisgendered female, I'd think of it more of a necessary chore, but I'm
not and it isn't. It's fun. So the usual moisturizer, followed up by
primer, THEN followed up with foundation (Clinique Even Better-I don't
use drug store foundation except for emergencies. You know, the stuff
all the girls used in school back then). Blush to add a little color to
my cheeks and then of course pressed powder from a compact. While I
have one from Cover Girl, for going out I use a little one from Estee
Lauder in gold with my zodiac sign embossed on it. Elegant, and its
smaller to fit in a clutch, too. If in fact I actually carried one.
Then eyes. A little color on my brows, followed by a taupe eyeshadow
and a lighter one above to highlight. Pencil eyeliner, on upper lids
only-at my age, I think doing both is pushing it. Eyelash curler, then
mascara. Waterproof of course. Then my lipstick choice. While my
nails were true red, I had learned lips and nails didn't have to match,
though they shouldn't clash. I took out one of my favorites-Clinique
Punch Pop, a lovely fuscia (kind of reddish pink. Looks red in the
tube, but it really isn't) put it back into my makeup bag, put that
into the shoulder bag I would be carrying (why should I lug a clutch
when I'm not in an evening gown?), squirted myself in appropriate places
with Clinique Aromatics Elixir, made sure my jewelry was all right
(dangle earrings, a few rings, bracelets and a silver necklace) and down
I went. Deliberately a few minutes behind the rest of the crowd, and
paused before actually entering the ballroom-'do I really want to do
this?' but the answer was yes. I'd worked all my life to become my true
self, and no matter how it went, I was going to strut in proudly in my
heels with the skirt of my dress swirling around my legs.
So I walked in and approached the check-in desk, manned of course by two
of the ladies in the committee-Pamela and Maura, both of whom I'd known
since fourth grade. And had been friendly with, even though I'd never
dated either one of them in my younger (read trying to be male) days.
Pamela had actually been my daughter's teacher in second grade, and had
married another classmate, who I had been in scouts with (I hid enough
to make Eagle, remember?) and he and I had even attended the same
mainline protestant church and were confirmed together. However, in the
intervening years, they had both joined a rather strict religious group,
and Roy had even become a clergyman in the group. Which was virulently
anti-LGBT in all its ways, shapes and forms. The look I got from both
of them was priceless-with a stammering 'David?'. I informed them that
I used to be, and was now legally Marybeth (call me Beth) and treat me
just like any of the other ladies with a name change-theirs would have
been due to marriage of course-and just print me up a new nametag, with
Marybeth Greene, and my former graduation name (David XXXXX) underneath,
as they had a small machine there just for that purpose. I could tell
they were brimming with curiousity, and just dying to say something, so
I told then (for the first time of several that night) to just go ahead
and ask and I'd be as honest as I could. I explained that I was trans,
not just in a disguise, and this was how I normally lived and dressed,
with a legal name and gender change. Pamela was a little put off (you
can always tell) but Maura seemed to be okay with it. Including
informing me that 'You know Carrie is here, right?'. Carrie Booker had
been my senior prom date, and we had actually dated from late junior
year to after my college sophomore year. And yes, we had our first
experiences together. I knew I'd have to confront her at some point,
and hoped she wasn't too uncomfortable or embarrassed. Margaret,
another girlfriend from earlier wasn't there, thank goodness, though I
had liked her a lot too-though we had been too young to actually do
anything with each other. Pamela asked me what rest room facilities I
generally used, and she was a little taken back when I informed her I'd
be using the ladies lounge-like all the other women there. I did NOT
tell either of them that full surgery was impossible due to medical
problems, but in New Jersey that wasn't a problem. Protective laws
allowed me to use the facilities of the gender I had transitioned into,
even without it. Our conversation soon ended, and I walked past the
desk into the room proper. With more than one of my classmates and
supposed friends stopping to state-I have mentioned that I'm not exactly
a supermodel at my age, didn't I? So I got clocked by the class. Big
deal.
A few of my older friends had the nerve to come up to me and greet me,
nice to see you, etc. Mostly girls, but a few of my old buds too. We
talked about a lot of things, such as what we'd been doing, military
backgrounds, college, things we'd been involved in. They were quite
surprised to hear that someone like me (whatever that meant) could
actually have earned a fourth degree black belt in karate, plus a few
other ranks in other arts. A lot of us were educators, though I did
mention that I'd finished my career and actually gotten a divorce before
I officially began transition. To the question of when did I know-I
admitted how jealous of the girls I was back in school, able to wear
dresses and makeup every day (stereotypical 60s) and would have loved to
have been a cheerleader. I also told the story of that magical summer
with my friend Debbie, and how they'd taught me to do all the town
cheers, and would have loved to have been out there on game day. And
proms of course. Back in the days of princess style gowns, in pink or
other pastel colors. All the things I'd missed by having a Y
chromosome. During the open bar cocktail hour, we had a great
conversation about our lives, with a lot of curiousity about their trans
classmate. One interesting observation-when I took a drink of my
bourbon (so sue me-I like it and I hate white wine) one girl noticed the
lipstick ring around the rim. We kind of giggled about that, and
noticed that she had the exact same thing on her wineglass, which wasn't
surprising in either case, since we were both wearing bold lipstick
shades. A situation familiar to just about every woman. Eventually the
cocktail hour ended and it was time to find our seats for dinner. I was
invited to sit with the group I was talking with, at least they more or
less accepted me. Some of the others were giving me hard glances, and
actively avoiding me. Kind of just like in high school, so no big loss.
We had been required to indicate our dinner choice on our enrollment
forms, a choice of roast beef, chicken, salmon or a vegetarian platter.
Most of the guys chose the roast beef (big surprise) but I chose the
broiled chicken breast. The girls and I kept chattering away during
dinner, as though we had been girlfriends since forever. We had been
friendly in school, so I guess they felt they could ask some pretty
personal questions about my being a woman and my transition. I didn't
go into my lack of bottom surgery-that was none of their business. But
we talked about boyfriends, how I learned to do my own makeup since I
hadn't had the benefit of innumerable sleepovers in my early years, how
I got used to heels and skirts, etc. we had a great time talking
through dinner.
Of course, after dinner, the inevitable occurred-the need to visit the
ladies room. The group of ladies I was with grabbed purses, got up and
went off to the facility. Some of my classmates at other tables gave my
hard looks when I did exactly the same-slung my purse over my shoulder
and went with my group of friends, like any other woman would do. It
was large, but there was of course a line, so we waited for empty
stalls, went in and accomplished what had to be done. When I exited the
stall, I took my place next to one of my friends at the lighted mirror,
and began touch up. Fluffing hair, applying a little blush and mascara,
and then pulled out my lipstick. Michelle noticed it and remarked that
it was Clinique-and asked me the shade, as she had been admiring it. I
told her it was Punch Pop (the reddish pink fuscia). My favorite out of
the about forty the company makes in that line. I let her know I mostly
went for shades red or darker pinks. Even in drugstore or even
sometimes dollar store brands. For example, once when I was out and
forgot my lipstick on my vanity, I stopped into Dollar Tree-and found
Wet N Wild Hot Red-which I absolutely love. Nice and creamy, great
color and it lasts. And only a dollar, a little more at drugstores.
Back to the ballroom.
There were several events on the agenda for the evening. Introduction
of all attendees, memorabilia dispay (yearbook, girls gym suit from the
60s that brought a laugh, some of the spirit cards from football games,
senior play program, things like that). A more somber note was the
reading of all known classmates who had passed, including one of the
most popular girls in the class a few months ago-she was the daughter of
one of the administrators back in the day. And a reading of our
classmates who for one reason or another couldn't be located. And a
reading of the names of those who had served in the military over the
years. Which included me. I had actually gone through basic with one
of our classmates (unfortunately now deceased) and run into a few
others during my term. What was interesting was they had me listed by
my deadname-which Maura corrected to my new female name. A few hours
later the evening ended and everyone either left if they lived close by
or went up to their rooms. Did I mention Carrie Booker-my ex-and I
studiously ignored each other the entire evening. Which everyone
understood.
There was a breakfast buffet scheduled for the next morning, and my new
girlfriends and I planned to meet and eat together. I dressed nicely,
but casually in a white pullover top and a knee length denim A-Line
skirt, button front. Flats of course, with modest makeup (of course I
removed what I was wearing the night before). The girls and I met,
filled our plates with eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes or French toast,
or fruit. And naturally coffee. We kept up our girlish chatter, and we
found it was easy for me to fall into the group as just one of the
girls. As though I had been one of them a half century or more ago. I
confided about my magical middle school summer, and how I had felt
myself to be female my entire life-and how I had finally transitioned,
though still didn't reveal my surgery problems. Getting a little
personal, they asked how I had passed as a boy so well back in school,
and how I had done so all my life, including marriage and a family. I
simply replied that I had to-it was the sixties, and showing up in a
dress would have gotten me severely beaten or worse. Including by some
of our classmates as I looked around. To which they agreed. But they
congratulated my on my decision to join 'the better sex' and hoped I was
happy. Which I am.
After breakfast, the class started to separate once again to go to our
own homes-via car, airplane, or whatever. Those from our home area just
went home, others jumped in their rentals to drive to either Newark,
Philly or even AC airports. I got in my car and hit the road-back up to
195, the turnpike to Delaware I-95 and more back roads, about two hours.
I did have to stop at the southernmost rest stop in NJ to use the
facilities, and since I'm legally female, of course I used the ladies
room, especially since I was still wearing a skirt. And since I'm
'that' kind of girl, I naturally touched up my lipstick in the mirror
when I was done. As I've stated, I never leave the house without it.
Went with the Clinique, one of my gotos.
So that was my reunion-and meeting with the companions of my misspent
youth. Just hit the high points, left some out. Like the ex football
player who objected to my very existence, let alone my using the ladies
lounge. Or the ex cheerleader who got nasty in said lounge-wanting to
know if I was in drag to get close to them and molest someone. We never
liked each other anyway. But over all, it was great. Maybe I'll review
more of Marybeth Greene's life-there's a lot to cover.
Cheryl
- 16.09.2021
- 49
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