Skip to content

Eye Doctor Appointment

October 29, 2016


Over a month ago, I received a reminder from my Optometrist’s office that it was time for my annual appointment.  Last year, I had my first appointment with this office and I did it crossdressed.  As soon as I received the reminder, I was determined to do it while dressed pretty.  However, I did not make my appointment immediately.  I waited until I had shaved my legs for winter.  Last time, I only wore long skirts to hide my hairy legs when I went to the appointment and when I picked up my new glasses.

One day recently, while I was on a crossdressing outing, I stopped in at the office and made my appointment.  There was no one in the lobby except the receptionist.  Due to her counter, I do not think she could see that I was dressed pretty.  I made my appointment and left.

For my appointment, I wore a black, knee-length, business skirt, black hose, black heels, and a grey and black 3/4 sleeve top.  I felt very good about the outfit.  I thought it looked very professional.  Otherwise, I was just a man in a skirt.

I arrived at the office too early.  I sat in my car eating my lunch and making some phone calls.  A vehicle approached and parked beside me.  A woman and her daughter got out and went into the office.  I did not like that.  I do not like to dress around children.  I think I do not want to inspire children to crossdress.  I also do not want the parents to have to answer uncomfortable questions.  I considered changing back into my men’s clothes.

I eventually decided to go ahead with the plan.  I walked into the office.  The receptionist looked up at me and said, “I’ve got you,” and checked me in on her computer.  The girl and her mother looked up from their magazines at me.  The girl looked at my face and then went right back to her magazine.  She noticed nothing.  The mother also looked at me, looked away, then looked again down at my legs or shoes, and then returned to her magazine.  I sat down in the row of seats to the mother’s left.

The girl was called away and she never looked back.  The mother went with her.

Eventually, I was called back.  The young woman who took images of my eyes was professional.  She almost never even looked at me.  She took me into the exam room and left.

When the doctor arrived, he once again never looked down at my body.  He came in, started talking to me and checking my eyes.  Near the end of the appointment, he pulled up the images of my retinas on a computer.  I had to turn in my seat to see them.  I crossed my legs because it seemed most fitting for how I was twisted in my seat.  At one point, our conversation shifted to other topics.  I mentioned a minor leg injury I had experienced.  He looked down at my leg when I mentioned it.  Then we had a conversation about the time he had the same injury.  We finished up and walked to the front counter.

On the way to the front, the young woman who imaged my eyes came walking down the hall toward me.  She fully avoided looking at me.  That concerned me.  I felt like it meant that I made her uncomfortable.

At the front counter, the doctor gave me updated prescriptions for glasses.  Then he left me with the two women in the front office.  There were a couple customers in the lobby.  I was informed that I was not currently eligible for new glasses according to my insurance company.  The ladies and I discussed when I can come back to order some glasses.  I paid my bill and left.

I did not want to change back into menswear quite yet.  I went to a donut store.  The woman at the counter was working on the display when I walked in.  She did not see how I was dressed.  I made my order.  She asked me how tall I was.  I told her, but did not add that I was wearing heels.  While we had a short conversation, two younger workers came over to where we were.  I think they might have seen my outfit when I came in.  I bought my donut and sat in the restaurant to eat it.  I was the only customer.  They worked, I ate.  Eventually, I got up to leave.  I wished them well, they replied, and I left.


From → True Stories

Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: