THIS SOUNDS LIKE A PLAN………but not anything I could foresee
2015 09 15
Shopping at CATO.
Cheryl and her team are GREAT!
When I was born, my life was already mapped out. I would be mommy’s little cuddle bundle only for a short while. One day I would have to stop being soft and “be a man” even though I was maybe five. Tough it out. My dad seemed to think that hitting me and yelling at me to hit back would “make me a man” even though I was just seven years old. I remeber crying in fear and cowering knowing how brutal his beating could be.
Waiting OUTside in the wind.
I was expected to stand up for myself to the class bully. “Don’t come home crying with a bloody nose. Here is how to fight back.” That as my father stands in front of me with his fists flying towards me. Quite intimidating for a third grader. But I learned to be tough and when I was in late junior high/early high school I realized that once I finished school, I would need that toughness to survive.
In the sub shop.
When I was able to get out on my own I was able to be free! To have all the choices. To graduate in to the world of blue, black, gray, and occasionally in the summer, maybe tan. Of course all cotton and mostly from the tip of my toes to the collar around my neck. This happened to me early as I was basically on my own from fourteen years old. But I knew my life wouldn’t last long even though the home life hell was all but over.
So windy my hat blew off.
In High School, while the girls were all worried about who they would marry, would they be asked to the next dance, or what socially limited career paths they were offered, I had to contend with the real prospect of dying in Vietnam. I knew from about eighth grade that I would be lucky to live long enough to see 21. What was the use of completing college if it might all end right after graduating? So I stopped half way through college, enlisted in the service, and got that out of the way. On discharge as “disabled”, I returned to college, much older than my classmates, and toughed it through to finish. Immediately after graduation I prostrated myself to get a “regular” job. I had survived to join the gray, blue, and black corps of men who every day go off to their jobs. Jobs they occasionally hate, to earn the wages and security necessary to be a good husband, father, and neighbor. Everything preplanned and according to custom. Blue, gray, black, and free of individual expression. Fit in and be the rock. With a boss who thought that taking any time for family or life was all but a notice that I was quitting.
A $13 blazer and a $4 skirt. Lace! Bliss!
Perhaps one day something hits a nerve, causes a spark. One day after all the obligations have been met, we look around and realize that in all our lives, we have never been pampered. Never had anyone fuss over us. We might even be unable to tolerate the attention. It might make us uncomfortable after all these years, even though we yearn for it.
I love the full circle fit and flare dresses!
Or one day we get totally fed up with the variety in cotton and rayon neither of which for a man is a knit. Just coarse cloth, like denim or duck. Our inner self desires something with a little more expression.
You can’t help but sparkle inside too!
Or maybe we just want to escape our shackles and be something grand. Maybe like the plow horse as he sees the thoroughbred trotting to the race course.
I experienced all of that. I found my antidote in crossdressing.
So what’s it like? What is the fascination?
I am reading but not at this volume.
Unless you are a guy like me coming from the corps of guys, you can’t understand it. But if you are a woman who had a chance to get all totally glammed up for something like a prom, you might understand. If you have, and if you had a good time, then you have an idea what it is like for me. It is like each week I get the fun of preparing myself for a prom. But now imagine a girl that is a “tomboy” who never wears a dress and never gets glammed up. Imagine her fun and wonder at the process and change. That is what it is like for me each time I go OUT enfemme. For the girl that is a tomboy the sensations are not unfamiliar. For me as a guy they are sensuous and forbidden.
The only CDer at The Bridesmaid ball. A BLAST!
I find the fabrics to be soft and sensuous. The hair (wig) against my shoulders and neck is pleasurable. The undergarments make my shape and posture different, the corset controling my movements. The stockings feel silky against my legs. The false long fingernails have a limiting effect on what I can do but make my hands look so much different. And they make typing a whole different experience. Typing with the end of a fingernail instead of the pad on the end of my finger.
These are the people who protect me.
The shoes make me walk completely differently. The old one foot in front of the other is unchanged but depending on the heel height, the height of the platform, if they have a strap to secure them to my feet, they do change how I can walk. Walking becomes something that fits the shoe. Totally different from the standard man’s shoe. And different with each type of shoe. It is like women’s shoes have personalities. And their personalities affect me, especially if they are gorgeous but hurt.
Giving respect gets respect and a sense of humor. There were about ten cops there, all having fun and being nice. Enjoying the silliness. These are the people we expect to protect us. We OWE them respect for that. Start out with respect. I have always had it returned.
Don’t even get me started on pantyhose. Or stockings. Don’t get me started. Girly girls seem to hate them but panty hose feel GOOD. Silky thigh high stockings feel even better. But I have to stop because stockings for a crossdresser are a subject worthy of their own story.
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