Sure enough, thanks to the closed-toe shoes I wore, I ended up with a nasty smudge to last week’s pedicure, so I went back to the salon to get it fixed. As I was going in, I ran into one of the hair stylists who wanted to know how come I wasn’t en femme again. I said I was just in for a touch-up and besides I felt like being a boy today. “Well I think you look hot either way,” she said. Cue blushing and mumbled thanks.

‘Course she probably assumes I’m gay—she’s seen me en femme and seen my pictures, but haven’t been there when I’ve talked to the nail techs about my dressing. But it was nice all the same. Especially because feeling not as attractive en homme is probably one of the reasons I started crossdressing as a boy.