Basically, I had planned it all out in my head. Not unrealistically, either--it seemed like it would actually be a feasible plan.
Step one: leave early enough so that I could go to a store and buy an electric razor.
Step two: using the scissors I brought with me, lop off the majority of the hair on my body (mainly the face, of course), and finish it off using the razor.
Step three: go in, people being wowed at the change would ask about it, and I would explain the reason as, "Because I'm tired of pretending to be a guy."
You know you're screwed if things start going wrong at step one. Mainly, that instead of leaving early, I left late. As in, later than I normally leave for staff meetings, risking being late as a result.
Still, motivated, I figured I could recover. No razor would mean no close shave, but I figured I could make the scissors get pretty good.
Yeah, not so much. I awkwardly stumbled, struggling with the concept of my hands working in 3D as viewed through my car mirror, making the process be rather random, messy, and not exactly precise. I didn't get nearly as much cut off as I'd have liked to before I ran out of time.
All the same, though, I had made a significant change in my appearance on a whim; I figured I'd still get the comments, and I did! Perfect chance to come out, right?
Well, it WOULD be, if I hadn't managed to flub it so badly. See, I rehearsed my line in my head many, many times. I ran through the dialect dozens of times, mentally preparing myself for the encounter so that when it came up, I could just blurt it out.
Turns out, not so easy when it comes to reality. I tried to spit it out, but in my absolute stupidity, the best I could mutter out before degrading into incoherent rambling and muttering was the half-truth, "Because I hated it."
So I didn't get to accomplish any of my goals.
Still, not a complete failure. It got me closer to them, and I have to admit...it feels better. The cut might be pathetically messy, but it looks nice in its own way.
I definitely still look like a guy, sadly. However, that change--small as it may have been--makes me feel more feminine. Before, when I looked at my face, I just had to disassociate it with being me, as in, "That may be what others see, but it's not what I actually am."
Now, when I look at myself in the mirror, it's more, "Dang, girl. It takes some heavy squinting...but I look good!"
Of course, that's me deluding myself, but it's nice to have.