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The WHOLE Rest Room Truth For The Potty Police!

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I know that I  posted this here when I first came to the forums <many> years ago and I was looking for it in regard to a topic one of the rest of you posted to link up, but cannot find it where I think I put it.  I was not full, full time when this event happened and when I wrote it in my own memory File, but I hope you enjoy it and get something from it for you to use and see where others have been.  Some of the language we use has changed since 2011 and I will not update it.  This is very much about MY story and your stuff may vary..  Enjoy!!


The WHOLE Rest Room Truth For The Potty Police!

Here in Southern California we have one of the world’s reputedly largest shopping malls from the standpoint of ground area that it covers.  Its name is the Ontario Mills Outlet Center Mall and it is located about 45 miles east of Los Angeles.  Over the US Memorial Day weekend, its stores join in the tradition of cutthroat SALES that are popular as part of the whole celebration in honor of the US war dead and veterans.  Memorial Day sales come in only slightly behind the “(in the) black Friday” sales that kick off the US Christmas buying frenzy in terms of intensity and the amount of money spent.  Since my medically prescribed female hormones have now overpowered my supply of birth accident male hormones, the call of the SALE registers strongly in my veins every time I hear the words “40% to 75% OFF” on top of outlet store prices.  So, on May 30 I went SHOPPING!!!!


I am not in full time transition just yet, but I have become comfortable shopping and doing most ordinary things in female presentation.  At 5’9+” and several pounds over two hundred, I am large-average size for a woman, and at the minute fit nicely into size 20 (2X) for my tops and dresses, and size 18 (1X) for slacks and skirts or for tops made of really stretchy materials such as knits.  With many stores that “specialize” in Women’s Sizes at Ontario Mills, I was in a shopper’s paradise.


Two hours after entering the mall, I had spent $123.00 against a budgeted $100.00 upper limit (It was a SALE!!) and had bought 3 great tops and a really cute dress.  I had had no problems being offered the use of the Women’s fitting rooms in any of the stores I had shopped in.  The sales girls were friendly and helpful and quick to suggest items that I might like, and never once hinted that they were uncertain about my femininity. It was a wonderfully girl to girl experience.  Only one GG customer had taken an interest in me, but that was for the purpose of wanting to know where I had gotten my handbag!! 


The experience took a downward turn at that point, because, as you can guess from the fact that I take Spironolactone which is a diuretic (in my case prescribed for the diuretic effects before my GP realized its alternative use in HRT) it was time for the DREADED RESTROOM  ADVENTURE.  This was only my second time in that mall in female mode, and the first time I had used the “family” single toilet restroom simply because the mall had been pretty empty and that RR had been closer to where I was at the time.  This time, there was no option to use that RR since it was being worked on by the maintenance crew with a sewer rodding machine that appeared to be having trouble getting through something in the line.


The lines to both of the gender designated restrooms were nearly 300 feet long when I got to them. 


The average adult male in that RR line was taller than 6’ and weighed 280+ pounds.  The uniform of the day was shorts that showed very hairy legs and basketball team jersey tops displayed over large beer guts.  The men who were less than 6 feet tall, had a circumference at the belt line of about 6 feet.  Hispanic and Asian voices were about equal to the So California Anglo population and other dialects from various other ethnic neighborhoods spiced things up considerably.  About a third of the men had small children hanging on to their hands, and it was 50/50 boys and girls. Potty-training age innocent little GIRLS were to be taken into the MENS RESTROOM with the most gawdawful looking old men that at that minute seemed to have something against all women, especially the ones who had told them to take the kids to the RR while they continued shopping!!  I was actually able to hear a sweet very young female voice ask “Daddy can I stand up to pee just like you?”  The reply was in a language I do not speak fluently so I don’t know how it was dealt with.


In male mode I would have felt uncomfortable and definitely the “beta” male there. I was going to have to use the WOMEN’S restroom. There was no way I would be able to get into the men’s room dressed as I was in a lacey top that nicely showed my developing upper body structure which was accentuated by a push up bra that made me a pleasant “small B cup” as one of the sales girl’s had commented earlier.  With my makeup, femininely styled and colored hair (OK, wig) it would have been suicidal.   Even with an emerging interest in males as potential erotic partners, I could see nothing in the cis-males in that line that would have made me want to see any of their reproductive anatomy.


The women’s RR line contained the female complement to the men’s except that the 6 foot circumference was at breast line and the waist line was only 5 feet around, but not always.  My Irish red hair color was barely noticeable with the day glow blues and greens and fuchsia pink braid and hair extension wefts, along with white blond against extremely dark skin features and gothic shoe polish black surrounding ivory faces.   The variety of chunk and streak hair coloring exceeded all the limits of my imagination.  The square footage of visible skin almost equaled the area of the entire mall, and much of it in the form of cellulite skin tags that bubbled out of day-glow spandex shorts.  Several women were also showing off expanding uteri in addition to the lipoid tissue, although it was not clear-cut as to where one tissue prevailed over the other.  As in the men’s line, there were young boys and girls hanging on to what you hoped were parental hands.  One small boy commented out loud that his mommy and daddy looked different in the pee equipment department!  One young urchin actually told an older woman with somewhat chiseled features unlucky enough to be near him that she looked like a guy!!  He was quickly the victim of some child abuse with “mommy’s” shrieks at the child and apologies to the woman he had spoken to, who pretty obviously had not understood what the boy had said to begin with. Both the mother and gender mistake victim wore obvious religious jewelry of the Roman faith.  The boy had given me the once over and had seen nothing to excite his imagination or mouth, even before his “parental correction” of a mistake in one case.  Not one person in the line seemed to even see me, the horrible transsexual male to female person that was the total antithesis of real womanhood!!  Needless to say, I had already seen so much of the anatomy of the women in the line with me, that I really had no urge to see more. The idea in fact made me a little queasy.


Once in the RR itself, the only open stall was at the far end of the line, furthest from the door, but luckily the one that had a floor to ceiling enclosure.  My only dirty look from anyone was a woman who came out of her stall in time to be brushed by the bag I was carrying.  My apologetic smile and look of concern toward her soothed it over, and I got a half smile in return.  While I was sitting down doing what I needed to do in my stall, I heard screams that one small male had been peeping under the partition into the stall beside the one he and his mother had been using.  It had been several stalls from the one I was in.  The only remote glimpse of a female crotch that I got was of an infant on the changing table, and hers was totally obscured by what she needed to be changed and cleaned up from.  A sight I had seen many hundreds of times with my own daughters, and find no erotic benefit from.  Women’s public restrooms also have an odor to them that is distinctive and not pleasant in my mind.  The day was hot and the air conditioning to the mall was just getting back into service from its winter rest, and as a result, I was just a bit overwhelmed by the smell by the time I was through with my own business.  A very brief visit to the wash basin and towel dispenser and I was out of there as quickly as a floor slippery with soap and hand sanitizer covered by miscellaneous wads of toilet paper and torn toilet seat covers would permit me to walk/slide/splash to the door!!  Passing no longer mattered, only escape did!!


In all of that I had somehow forgotten that my “purpose” (NOT!) in going into the women’s restroom originally was to sexually molest the good clean and righteous women and otherwise invade their space!!  How could I have forgotten such a basic premise of transsexuality that the Rest Room Vigilantes keep reminding me about?  I should be ashamed of myself for not doing what was expected of me by the pure and upstanding leaders of society that were NOT standing in that line last Sunday. I have let society as a whole down by doing what I needed to do and getting the “H” out. (Sob!!)


The only consolation I have is that I do have some great looking clothes and a wonderful feeling that I was being my true self for that whole time.  A few months from now when I go full time, I hope that feeling stays the same!! 

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PS:  I went full time in August 2011.

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An interesting visit to say the least! 

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