Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Donating Old Clothes
I just got back from the Food Lion, where they have a big white dumpster in the parking lot, for donating old shoes and clothing. I have no idea where this clothing goes, because there is no organizational name on the dumpster, but I know it gets a lot of donations, because sometimes when I drive by, you can see the opening is overflowing with clothes, and clothes and shoes are piled up in from of it as well.
A few years ago I lost a lot of weight, and never bothered to get rid of the clothes that are now way too big for me. My place is way to cluttered as it is, and this stuff is taking up a lot of space, so I decided it was time to start getting rid of it. Just after noon today, I started sorting through piles of folded clothes in the laundry room, separating out old stuff from the newer stuff that I wanted to keep, and carrying loads out to the car. Before I knew it, I had filled the entire back seat of the car with old clothes. By then I was getting hungry, so I fixed a chicken salad sandwich, and had an apple. When I was done with lunch, I put on the sleeveless shirt you see me wearing in the picture above, a pair of white shorts, and my new red snake skin flats, and drove to the Food Lion, which is about twenty miles away. I was hoping to get out much earlier to avoid the late afternoon rush of commuters on the highway, and those stopping at the Food Lion on their way home from work, but I've become a creature of the night in my retirement, and since I didn't get to bed until 3:00 AM, I didn't get up this morning until after 9:00 AM. By the time I had washed my face, brushed my teeth, and eaten breakfast, it was already 10:30 AM. So my whole day was thrown back a few hours. By the time lunch was over, and I had changed clothes and done my makeup, it was nearly 3:30 PM.
The Food Lion is about 25 miles down I-64, so it took me about a half an hour to get there, and sure enough I was right in the thick of the afternoon traffic, although to be honest, our society has become so mobile, that highway traffic really only starts slacking off after about 7:30-8:00 PM, and picks back by 5:00 AM. Then it stays fairly heavy all day long. Gone are the days when you could drive for miles and see only a few other vehicles. Now, it's like driving in a never ending convoy.
Well anyway, I got to the Food Lion some time after 4:00 PM, and there were plenty of people driving in and out of the parking lot. The Dumpster was at the rear of the lot, so I just pulled up, and parked right in front of it. Nobody seem to notice anything strange about the 6'2" woman unloading clothes from her car, and stuffing them in the opening on the front of the dumpster. Several cars drove by, and no one registered any alarm. About fifty feet away, a truck driver had his lorry backed up to a loading dock facing me. He noticed me, but didn't seem to pay me any undue attention. Before I knew it, the car was unloaded, and I was back in it, and driving home. I was actually a little disappointed, that I didn't have any close encounters. I'm sort of looking forward to having one, so I can gauge the reaction of people who see me close up. I know I will be read as a male under closer scrutiny, but I remember from when I used to go out in my late twenties and early thirties, that being read as a male, does not necessarily mean a negative reaction. I remember being read as a male back then, and still receiving big warm smiles and positive reactions. One case in point, was when I went to a salon to have my hair and nails done. The woman who did my hair knew I was a boy, because I told her up front when I made my appointment, yet she absolutely adored me. But while sitting under the dryer, and having my nails done, a woman customer facing me on the other side of the room, apparently read me as a male, and by the scowl on her face, I could tell she was obviously disgusted with what she saw. Her reaction reminded me of my mother's stupid knee jerk reactions, to any male she thought was overtly effeminate, so it was easy to dismiss her as the mean spirited ignoramus, that she was.
After my hair and nails were done, I went into a lingerie shop, a few doors down from the salon. Instantly, I spied some gorgeous lace trimmed panties hanging on a rack, and walked over to give them a closer look, when a young woman who was just as nice as could be, came over and asked me if I need any help. I showed her the pair of pastel pink panties with white lace trim, in a size 7 that I had just taken from the rack, and said, "Yes, I would like to get these." She studdied my hips for a second, then pulled an identical pair in a size 8 from the rack, and and very sweetly said, "I think you really should go with these instead.........just for comfort." She had just told me that I was to big for the panties I had selected, but she did it in such a sweet and non-judgemental way, that I could have hugged her right on the spot. I accompanied her to the register to pay for them, and she bagged the panties for me, and and cheerfully thanked me, and asked me to come back soon. While this transaction was going on, the woman who did my hair suddenly came into the shop. Apparently she knew the girl there, and stopped in to tell her something. She noticed me, said hello again, and flashed me a beautiful smile. I left and walked back to my car, which was parked in front of the salon. As I was starting the motor up, my hairdresser returned, and seeing me, she gave a little knock on the hood, waved, and smiled at me again.
Now the point is, unlike the sourpuss customer in the salon, who as long as she knew I was male, wouldn't have been pleased with me, even if I could pass 100%, both of these women knew good and well that I was a genetic male, but it didn't phase them in the least. They appreciated my effort to appear as female as possible, and they both completely accepted me as a girl. It makes me wonder, why is it so hard for some others to do that?