One of the things I have had to make adjustments to, and allowances for, is doing my laundry publicly for the first time since acknowledging my womanhood.
See, when I first started examining, then living out my femininity, I lived in a home-like thing, which came with a washer and a dryer. After that, I had access to
a private laundry facility for a few years, and after that when the SO and I were living with her folks, we had (mostly) private facilities. Now that we live in a mostly
private apartment, we have a laundry room that we share with roughly 60 other units. (There's actually 120 units in my complex; but the back half of the complex
has their own laundry room.)
Since there's essentially two women living in the same apartment, and since I do all the laundry, I don't think twice about what goes into-or comes out of-the
washer or dryer. All manner of girl clothes, panties, bras, etc. are pretty much all that fills our laundry basket. There aren't too many man clothes, and in fact, what
few there are mostly belong to the SO. She outweighs me right now by roughly 11 pounds, and since we are about the same height-5', 9.5”-finds that guy clothes
and things with elastic fit comfortably right now. (And let me tell you how bad that little fact frosts her giblets sometime.) So, I do the laundry when I have time.
On this particular occasion, it's a warm Monday afternoon. Allow me to set the scene: I had to dry the delicates load a second time, as the delicates setting is a
little light on the heat needed to dry everything we have in the hamper. I am dressed in a pair of powder blue girl shorts, panties, bra, and a powder blue women's
t-shirt, with ped sox and a pair of Princess Reebocks. I have most of the laundry done when another occupant of the complex comes in with her wash. She's
attempting to load her wash and not look at me and what I am taking out of the dryer: the finally dried “delicates”-bras, panties, socks, etc.
This woman is looking at me somewhat quizzically as I am calmly folding our stuff, setting my bra and panty stack in the basket, then the SO's. She's loading
heaven only knows what into her washer, and I am not too sure if she actually got everything separated or soap added, for all of that. I guess it's just not all that
often that she sees other people doing their laundry, because she sure seemed flustered. Not a word was spoken, other than “hello” when she first walked in. I
just kept folding my clothes like this was a normal, everyday occurrence…which for me it is. Well, okay…technically speaking, it's a weekly occurrence, but
you get my point.
And that point is this: Since I live as a woman, I have to wash my clothes too. That means I run into people, people who might look at what's in my laundry hamper:
girl clothes, panties, bras, etc., and I can't allow thoughts of “what will they think about…?” to creep into my thinking or I might as well hang it up right now.
The lesson here is that, if you can't wash your clothes where and when others might be watching, you're either going to go through a lot clothing-which gets
expensive; or wear dirty clothing-which is icky and nasty; or you really need to look at what you're doing-because you'll never make it in the real world. For in the
real world, women like me do laundry, cook, clean, and sew. Otherwise, I have dirty clothes, starve, live in a pigsty, and my dirty clothes have holes and missing
buttons. I recommend you learn that lesson early and well, dears.
The better transfer is this: How serious about your womanhood are you? It's not all makeup, skirts and blouses, bras, panties and hose, and wishing for things
to change. I don't live in a fairy tale, sweetie. I live in a world where I have to do the work that any woman does and then some, which means all the housework
plus my job. That's not just life in the Mina lane…that's just real life.
So, my final question to you is…are you woman enough to do your laundry in public?
