How I helped Victor become Victoria and Transvestites have a two-drink minimum in New Orleans
Rich Ferguson, a writer, poet, and spoken word performer out of Los Angeles is one of many writers on the Nervous Breakdown blog that I enjoy reading. (Buy his amazing cd: Where I Come From). His latest tale of meeting his girlfriend’s parents for the first time in New York in what he refers to as a “tranny bar” is hilarious. I couldn’t stop laughing. Would you be a little nervous if you were trying to make a good impression and suddenly realized you were surrounded by transvestites and you weren’t sure how your girlfriend’s parents would react? It’s one of those priceless moments in life that you’ll remember forever.

Luckily Rich’s experience turned out ok and everyone had a great time.

Reading about Rich’s transvestite adventure made me remember my own and I thought I’d share them with you.

How I helped Victor become Victoria:

During my cosmetic store years at Merle Norman we had a very special customer. Victor walked into the store one evening and asked to speak to the manager. (Me).

“I wanted to inquire about a free makeover.”

“No problem. We can schedule an appointment. Who is the makeover for?” I asked.

“It’s for me.”

“I’m sorry. Did you say the makeover was for you?”

“Yes.”

I was stunned.

“Would you be willing to do a makeover on me?” He asked.

“Yes. Of course.” I collected myself.

“When would you like to have the makeover?”

He looked around at the empty store. Evenings were always slower in the cosmetic store.

“Can we do it now?”

“Sure.”

That was the first of many makeovers I did on Victor. He explained that first night how he was going to get the sex change operation and was starting hormone therapy.

Victor was not a handsome man. He was average and in his late thirties or early forties. He was growing his hair out for when he had the ‘change’ and it reminded me of John Travolta’s hair in the 1970’s only blonde.



He had thick whiskers that were hard to cover up with makeup. I used the thickest coverage foundation we had and wished I had some stage makeup.

“You’ll need to shave closely before applying your makeup.” I instructed.

Victor was very intent on learning how to apply his makeup and he liked experimenting with colors. His eyebrows were thick and bushy.

“If you want to look more feminine, you should get your eyebrows waxed. It will be easier to apply your eye shadow with your brows arched.” I explained.

Victor had several makeovers before any changes in his physical appearance were noticeable. He came into the store with acrylic nails painted pink one night.

“Do you like my nails?” He asked waiving his fingers in front of me.

By that time he was comfortable with my employees and me.

I looked at his hands. The pink acrylic nails looked completely foreign on his beefy male hands. Strange even. But he was so proud of them. It was his first step to becoming Victoria.

“They look great!” I was kind.

After a little while, Victor began his hormone therapy and other changes became noticeable. His voice wasn’t as deep. His whiskers weren’t as thick. He was growing breasts. He was acting more feminine and he wanted us to start calling him Victoria.

No matter how hard Victoria tried, she was not a pretty woman. God help her. She was stuck in Victor’s body. And even though Victoria tried to apply her makeup and did a pretty good job, she couldn’t make it look like when I applied it.

Victoria would go shopping in the mall and bring her purchases into the store to ask my opinion. She wanted to be glamorous, but she was stuck with Victor’s sense of fashion, and Victor had no style. She would buy dress suits big enough to fit Victor’s body in bright fuchsia and purple and yellow with big flowers or bows on them. Apparently big flowers and bows are feminine! Not that I would know. You won’t see me wearing big flowers or bows. Victoria on the other hand wore them proudly.

Soon, Victor was all but forgotten as Victoria blossomed… and she couldn't have been happier.

And that is how I helped Victor become Victoria.

Transvestites have a two-drink minimum in New Orleans:

While I was still married, my ex husband and I visited his parents who lived in Gulfport Mississippi, which is about 45 minutes from New Orleans. My in laws took us to New Orleans several times. One night after a great dinner on Bourbon Street, my ex father in law pointed at a club and said: “Let’s go in there for a drink.” So we went in.

It was a nudie bar. There were women, wearing only g-strings, pole dancing on the stage!

“They’re not very pretty.” I said.

“They’re not women.” My ex husband pointed out.

“What?”

“They’re transvestites.”

My ex father in law started laughing. He knew this was a transvestite nudie bar and brought us here on purpose to see my reaction.

“Oh!”

I looked a little closer at the nearest pole dancer. Male on the bottom, female on the top.

“What do you all want to drink lovely’s?” A transvestite waitress asked.

“I’m not sure we’re staying.” My ex father in law said.

“Honey sit down, there’s a two drink minimum!” She pushed my ex father in law into a chair.

In New Orleans, transvestites have a two-drink minimum. We drank our two drinks while g-string wearing transvestites danced around us. My ex father in law’s joke had backfired on him.  posted by Matildakay at 11:46 PM