Slashdot Mirror
Direct Marketers Association Asks To Be Regulated
alanjstr writes "Recognizing that with all the spam out there, the legitimate messages don't get through, the Direct Marketers Association (DMA) has decided that they will no longer oppose federal anti-spam legislation, but that forged headers should be illegal."
friva!
Here I am putting on my shopping outfit and I know where my wife is
going to take me. She had made the appointment 2 weeks earlier at a
bridal shop. After taking me for bridesmaid's gowns she thought it
would be a good humiliation to have to go through the process of being
a bride so that I can fully understand what females go through.
I 'm wearing a black and white check shift dress, it is sleeveless and
has buttons down the front with a v -neck front. Underneath I'm wearing
a white long sleeved blouse with a large collar in a very feminine
look. White stockings, yes stockings held up by a white garter belt,
white panties very lacy and white pumps with a 2 inch heels. Carrying a
white small purse and of course with 3 pearl earrings in each ear, a
matching pearl necklace and pink polish on my acrylic nails. I look
very feminine and I can't believe that I am so trapped in this outfit,
I am so much at my wife's mercy. She has really got me under her
control. I look in the mirror and realize that I really am no longer a
husband or a male but a girlfriend and a female.
As we are walking across the parking lot towards the car I hear my
heels clicking in the familiar sound and realize after these past three
years of being feminized that I now wiggle very animated, like a model
walking down a runway. It is mortifying.
Instead of going in the direction of the bridal shop we are driving
towards Holly's salon which I start to worry. Its not Tuesday or Friday
my usual hair appointment dates. That's when I get my set and style. Or
I get my nails or waxing done. As we pull into the lot of Holly's my
wife says, "I have something that I've decided to do to your hair. Go
in Holly is expecting you I spoke with her this morning."
I wiggle into the salon and of course all of the other women say, "Hi
Josie." Holly is sitting on the couch when I walk in and she says, "We
have a surprise for you sweetie." As Holly leads me to the back chairs
I walk past Amy one of the stylists and she comments, "I love that
outfit honey, VERY CUTE." I say thank you and tell her I like her shoes
and feel very self-conscious as I wiggle by all the different patrons
and other stylists. The salon is packed and it is filled with only
women. Holly asks one of the stylists, "Where did you put that white
lightning that I mixed for Josie?" Now without telling anything, she
seats me, covers me with a pink apron shampoos my hair and then she
starts to brush on this white paste on my hair. I don't even get an
explanation. I know not to say anything because she will tell my wife
that I misbehaved and I will be punished more severely.
After my entire head is covered and it smells very strong, it is
burning my eyes, I am covered in a plastic cap and put under the dryer.
As it cooks every couple of minutes Holly would walk by and check.
Start to giggle and tell me, "Not quite, a few more minutes honey."
Another woman is sitting next to me under the dryer also. Her hair is
covered in a plastic cap and she says to me, "What we have to go
through, I hope my husband appreciates what I do to look good for him.
Does your husband realize what you go through for him too?"
I try and smile and tell her I hope so and realize that this woman
thinks I am another female. And she should, I look at my breasts
pushing through my blouse and look down at my shaved legs encased in
white stockings in heels and realize that I don't look anything like a
male at all. And so in my sqeaky voice I talk to her all about men,
fashions, and various other girl talk. I really have no choice.
Finally Holly takes me out from under the dryer and washes the paste
out of my hair. Then she puts another liquid in and rubs it throughout.
"This is a toner and it stays in for about 5 minutes. Then you are
ready for the curl and set." When that is finished she leads me back to
her chair in the front of the salon and starts to blowdry and curl,
tease and set my style. All the while keeping my back to the mirror.
When she is finished she turns me to the mirror. OH MY GOD !!!!! MY
HAIR IS A BANANA YELLOW!!!! It is a bright yellow throughout and I have
been made into a total blonde. I can't believe it, It is permanent.....
Holly then says, "I love it, it really finishes off making you look
totally female, No male would ever have this color and style. You will
get a touch-up every 3 weeks or so and besides as a regular we can fit
that into your biweekly schedule without any problem."
All the stylists ogle and tell me how much fun it will be as a blonde.
"All the men will notice you and you will turn heads every time you go
anywhere," Cindy one of the stylists tells me and of course she is a
blonde also. I am dizzy as I mince out of the salon and into my wife's
waiting car.
There she is hysterical laughing and tells me, "Get used to it, it
really makes you look like the bimbo that I want." All the way to the
bridal shop she has me practicing my squeaky Minnie Mouse voice and
giggling the whole time. I can't stop looking in the passenger mirror
the entire time.
As we pull into the bridal parking lot I really feel very embarrassed,
here I am with a bright feminine blonde hairdo and dressed so girly. I
have to act like I 'm getting married and ogle over all the gowns. Of
course I have to try them on and parade in front of all the saleswomen
in the shop. As we enter the original saleswoman that we met two weeks
ago greets us and she has picked out several gowns for me to try on. We
walk into a giant room with curtains.
Inside, the room is lined with mirrors and a pedestal is in the center
of the room. The saleswomen is named Wendy. She tells my wife that she
would be glad to help dress me in the various gowns and of course to my
horror, my wife says that would be fine. Now I have to undress in front
of this woman, who is eyeing me up and down. As I unbutton my dress and
take off my blouse, I am standing in panties, stockings and heels with
a dark blue bra mortified. My wife comments, "What happened Josie? Did
you forget you were trying on your wedding gowns today? I swear girl
nice color bra you have on?"
Wendy smiles and says, "Its okay you will still get the look you want,
most of the gowns I picked it won't matter." Then she puts the first
gown over my head and zippers me up, closes countless buttons on the
sleeves. As I look in the mirror I can't believe this is being done to
me!!!!
Here I am standing on this pedestal looking like a bride. My wife snaps
photos as we try on various gowns. Some are long with trains, others
with very elaborate bead work, some with countless bows, all incredibly
feminine. I have to pose in each one, walk out into the shop and ask
the other sales women what they think. And exclaim as each one is
brought one how adorable, how cute, how sexy each one is.
I have been ordered to say things like, "I want to look good for John
my fiancée" and, "I hope he will think I'm beautiful and sexy in this
one," all with my bimbo girly voice. Then headpiece after headpiece,
veil after veil, is applied and I of course smile with my blonded hair.
If I don't I know it could get worse for me. I don't know how but every
time I think it couldn't be any more humiliated, my wife comes up with
a new twist.
As we tell Wendy that we need to think which gown would be best and
look at the photos. She fills out all the data on the gowns which one I
like and takes my number and address so that I'm on file with them.
Wendy takes me around and shows all the different teddys and slippers,
and such that the shop sells. Also she shows me all the many other
accessories that brides wear under the gowns, various stockings and
heels. The entire time asking me about my wedding dates, how many
people will be there, how many are in the wedding party, are exciting
this is going to be. I answer as a giddy blonde bimbo should, waving my
hands and putting them up to my chest and throat as I speak and playing
with my blonde hair the entire time.
We leave and I think that finally its over. We drive to another bridal
shop which is attached to a large mall. There we go in and of course do
the whole scenario again. This is a much larger shop with more
saleswomen. Very crowded and I have to have myself dressed in the
changing room again by a saleswomen. Here I am again standing there in
stockings, shaved legs, heels and a bra in front of a woman who thinks
I'm an embarrassed female holding my arms across my chest as I'm put in
gown after gown. Trotted out in the middle of the store. Other shoppers
are commenting about this gown or that one and standing on this little
pedestal with the saleswomen pulling in various parts of the gown
showing me when I come for my fitting what should be taken in, or let
out.
Finally my dressing is over and we leave and I think foolishly that
maybe I could go home and try and recover from this experience. We
drive to a movie and of course I have to buy the tickets, get the
popcorn and sodas. We go into the film and I am so self -conscious
walking by the ushers and crowds of people. I know there isn't anyway
they think anything but here comes a blonde woman.
After the movie we go to a very crowded restaurant and eat. The hostess
and waitress never even blink. As we sit down the waitress comes up and
says, "Hi ladies, what can I get you girls to drink?"
My wife leans over and tells me, "No one here thinks that you are
remotely masculine. You really are more girly than most real women in
here, ha, ha."
Then as we are driving in the car, my wife reaches in the back takes
out a pair of black seamed stockings, tells me to put them on in the
car. Takes out a bag from the back seat and hands me a pair of 4 inch
black heels. "Put these on too." We pull onto the Delaware Avenue strip
of clubs and I know what is going to happen tonight. "I'm going to let
you show off you new hairdo to all the boys tonight on the dance floor
Josie. When you get out I want you to ask the valet if your seams are
straight, and say it as squeaky and feminine as you can."
I know its going to be a long night on the dance floor. My life as a
blonde has just begun. Josie.
IOW = In other words.
Spell things out - it costs you 2 seconds and saves head scratching for thousands.
Muahahahahahahah!