Recently I accompanied my wife, to Dillards (one of those overpriced yuppie, trendy department stores) to do a bit of shopping. I soon found myself in the ladies makeover area.
OH, MY! Now this was quite a fright. One of these gargoyle creatures was about six feet tall and maybe weighed in at 120 pounds. She had on more makeup than Boy George in the day.
She was cackling like an old hen and her laugh sounded worse than the girl at Wal-Mart over the loud speaker. Her measurements were a perfect thirty-six;.......... twelve, twelve, twelve. She was running back and forth trying to make sure the other ladies did not miss their chance to be addressed by Fidelliah. Now, I saw I was not going to escape very soon. So I sat back and watched as these sales ladies transformed regular-looking women into something out of a sci-fi magazine.
It was not enough to simply do their faces. Oh, no! They had to do the hair and the nails and all of it right there in front of god and everyone else.
Now I have to tell you, these women have to be the greatest sales people on the planet. Not only did they convince their customers they were now as beautiful as Laura Banks, but then proceeded to hit them for $120 for the stuff they so expertly applied to their faces.
When these women got up and trotted off to the ladies room for a better look, I noticed that they looked refreshed when they came out with most of it wiped off. My heck, I felt like a rooster in a hen house. Never in the history of man had another male been privy to the sights and sounds I experienced that day.
Many of the women asked me if I was next. I told them "Sure, ever since I got the sex change I have long missed the excitement of this moment." The ladies looked at me as if I had three eyes and four ears. (I am six foot two inches tall and weigh two hundred and fifty pounds.) I just loved the way they made a wide berth around me from that moment on.
It was about this time Fidelliah figured I was really telling the truth, because she came over and told me that she was so impressed that I would come out and be a part of all this. Then she confided that she had made the change from a man to a woman five years before. Now that just about did it, until she(?) confided in me that her boob job was a disaster. Well you coulda knocked me over with a feather. She was as flat as the floor she stood on.
I searched desperately for my wife to give me some support. She was laughing so hard, she just about peed her pants... Well I managed a thank you for sharing that, and then (I am so embarrassed to say) broke out in such a belly laugh, I fell off from the stool I had been sitting on... Needless to say, the entire floor erupted into a free for all of laughter to relieve the tension that was so thick you could cut it with a meat cleaver.
My wife collected her things, and hurriedly paid for her makeup and tore me the hell out of there, with the other women thanking me for making their day... I was so pleased to get out of there until Smitty (My nickname for my wife) informed me I was the one who would be taking the makeup back for a refund. I felt like I had just caught my foreskin in my zipper. The pain of walking back into that area was far more than I could bear. I paid one of my employees $20 to do it for me.
I do not think I will be shopping there with my sweetheart again soon. I got a call from the store manager pleading me to come back because the morale of her department had never been so high.
GO FIGURE.
OH, MY! Now this was quite a fright. One of these gargoyle creatures was about six feet tall and maybe weighed in at 120 pounds. She had on more makeup than Boy George in the day.
She was cackling like an old hen and her laugh sounded worse than the girl at Wal-Mart over the loud speaker. Her measurements were a perfect thirty-six;.......... twelve, twelve, twelve. She was running back and forth trying to make sure the other ladies did not miss their chance to be addressed by Fidelliah. Now, I saw I was not going to escape very soon. So I sat back and watched as these sales ladies transformed regular-looking women into something out of a sci-fi magazine.
It was not enough to simply do their faces. Oh, no! They had to do the hair and the nails and all of it right there in front of god and everyone else.
Now I have to tell you, these women have to be the greatest sales people on the planet. Not only did they convince their customers they were now as beautiful as Laura Banks, but then proceeded to hit them for $120 for the stuff they so expertly applied to their faces.
When these women got up and trotted off to the ladies room for a better look, I noticed that they looked refreshed when they came out with most of it wiped off. My heck, I felt like a rooster in a hen house. Never in the history of man had another male been privy to the sights and sounds I experienced that day.
Many of the women asked me if I was next. I told them "Sure, ever since I got the sex change I have long missed the excitement of this moment." The ladies looked at me as if I had three eyes and four ears. (I am six foot two inches tall and weigh two hundred and fifty pounds.) I just loved the way they made a wide berth around me from that moment on.
It was about this time Fidelliah figured I was really telling the truth, because she came over and told me that she was so impressed that I would come out and be a part of all this. Then she confided that she had made the change from a man to a woman five years before. Now that just about did it, until she(?) confided in me that her boob job was a disaster. Well you coulda knocked me over with a feather. She was as flat as the floor she stood on.
I searched desperately for my wife to give me some support. She was laughing so hard, she just about peed her pants... Well I managed a thank you for sharing that, and then (I am so embarrassed to say) broke out in such a belly laugh, I fell off from the stool I had been sitting on... Needless to say, the entire floor erupted into a free for all of laughter to relieve the tension that was so thick you could cut it with a meat cleaver.
My wife collected her things, and hurriedly paid for her makeup and tore me the hell out of there, with the other women thanking me for making their day... I was so pleased to get out of there until Smitty (My nickname for my wife) informed me I was the one who would be taking the makeup back for a refund. I felt like I had just caught my foreskin in my zipper. The pain of walking back into that area was far more than I could bear. I paid one of my employees $20 to do it for me.
I do not think I will be shopping there with my sweetheart again soon. I got a call from the store manager pleading me to come back because the morale of her department had never been so high.
GO FIGURE.