The CD'ing Life
A few years ago I got an offer to work on a temporary contract which would require me to move to New York City during the contract term. To make along story short, I accepted the offer, which paid very well, and would give me a chance to live in Manhattan for a while. The job was located near the financial district, and I rented a furnished loft on the Lower East Side, about half a block off Delancey Street and within easy walking distance of the subway station at Essex Street.
The job was nominally nine to five, and since I was on a contract and not a permanent employee I got paid overtime, which was a disincentive for the managers to keep me past five. I would get a coffee at a Starbuck's near the subway station, ride the JZ to work, put in my time, and go home. I worked in Drab, but quickly learned that once I was back at my rented loft I could be Ingrid all the rest of the time. I started out just walking around with makeup, earrings, wig, and jeans and hoodies, and soon became aware that it doesn't matter how you are presenting yourself in Manhattan, even if someone should notice you they don't really care!
One of the things that I missed from home is that I was used to working-out 2-3 times a week, and I didn't have a gym to go. So, while I was walking around en femme I kept a weather eye open for gymnasiums. There are plenty of personal trainers and spas which cost an arm and a leg, but it was harder to find a place where people pumped iron seriously, and that was affordable. While I was out on one of my exploratory hikes, I found a small gym near Tompkins Park, not too far off Second Avenue, which looked promising. It was expensive, but frequented by Gay men, and was not a bath house for sex. I checked with the operators, explained that I was a sexually ambiguous crossdresser, and asked if it would be okay if I worked out in Drag. They agreed it was okay, explained the rules of conduct to me, and I paid a fee for a trial membership. This was in the early spring, mid-May if I recall correctly, so a few days later I dressed-up in a Spandex exercise suit, lime green tights, pink leotard, and full Fem makeup, and went to the gym for my first workout.
There were several men working-out when I arrived, and I put my purse and stuff in a locker and started stretching. I could feel them eyeballing me, but nobody said anything. I wasn't fooling anyone into thinking that I was a Cis-gender girl, of course, but it was to attract attention. I broke the ice by asking one of them to spot me as I did squats with a barbell, and we got into a conversation. After that things went well, and I even took a shower afterwards, although it was in an individual stall, not a communal, multi-showerhead room.
I wound up buying a monthly membership at the gym, and worked-out there for the remainder of the time I was living in Manhattan. There were some very good-looking guys there, but I never hooked-up with anyone whom I met at the gym.
Although New York is a very good town for Transgender girls, legally and socially, it's actually a bit harder to make social connections there than one might think. I did have some adventures, and maybe I'll relate them in future blogs while the Pandemic and Self-Isolation are still the order of the day!
The job was nominally nine to five, and since I was on a contract and not a permanent employee I got paid overtime, which was a disincentive for the managers to keep me past five. I would get a coffee at a Starbuck's near the subway station, ride the JZ to work, put in my time, and go home. I worked in Drab, but quickly learned that once I was back at my rented loft I could be Ingrid all the rest of the time. I started out just walking around with makeup, earrings, wig, and jeans and hoodies, and soon became aware that it doesn't matter how you are presenting yourself in Manhattan, even if someone should notice you they don't really care!
One of the things that I missed from home is that I was used to working-out 2-3 times a week, and I didn't have a gym to go. So, while I was walking around en femme I kept a weather eye open for gymnasiums. There are plenty of personal trainers and spas which cost an arm and a leg, but it was harder to find a place where people pumped iron seriously, and that was affordable. While I was out on one of my exploratory hikes, I found a small gym near Tompkins Park, not too far off Second Avenue, which looked promising. It was expensive, but frequented by Gay men, and was not a bath house for sex. I checked with the operators, explained that I was a sexually ambiguous crossdresser, and asked if it would be okay if I worked out in Drag. They agreed it was okay, explained the rules of conduct to me, and I paid a fee for a trial membership. This was in the early spring, mid-May if I recall correctly, so a few days later I dressed-up in a Spandex exercise suit, lime green tights, pink leotard, and full Fem makeup, and went to the gym for my first workout.
There were several men working-out when I arrived, and I put my purse and stuff in a locker and started stretching. I could feel them eyeballing me, but nobody said anything. I wasn't fooling anyone into thinking that I was a Cis-gender girl, of course, but it was to attract attention. I broke the ice by asking one of them to spot me as I did squats with a barbell, and we got into a conversation. After that things went well, and I even took a shower afterwards, although it was in an individual stall, not a communal, multi-showerhead room.
I wound up buying a monthly membership at the gym, and worked-out there for the remainder of the time I was living in Manhattan. There were some very good-looking guys there, but I never hooked-up with anyone whom I met at the gym.
Although New York is a very good town for Transgender girls, legally and socially, it's actually a bit harder to make social connections there than one might think. I did have some adventures, and maybe I'll relate them in future blogs while the Pandemic and Self-Isolation are still the order of the day!
4 years ago
