Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Wednesday, 14 December 2011


There was a long rant that I wrote after the last entry but I've decided that I'm not going to update that here.  mainly because the rant is self serving and it is rather negative.  The upshot is as the last entry has it: I lied to my wife and I paid the price.  Perhaps as a result of that we had a silly argument about lunch (of all things) on the following day, which was a Saturday.  Essentially I have a lot of anger in me.

However, the point of this blog is to talk positively about my habits and life in general and so perhaps this is not the best place to wax lyrical about all of the negatives.  Besides, I found this post on Sex Addiction on another blog that, scarily, accurately sums up the entire cycle I have with dressing and checking other blog sites.  Right down to the reasons, or potential reasons, so I found that independent verification fascinating, full credit to Kristina X.

This is pretty close to the chemise,
mine's from 2006 and George, with
a straighter neck line, lined with cheap
lace effect.  It's a lighter pink too.
Anyway, positives.  On the night after discovery of all my recent wardrobe I had a long rant and then settled down to sleep in a satin effect pink chemise from ASDA that I'd bought ages ago.  This was planned all that Saturday, taking time to find the item (most of my wardrobe remains in a drawer and this particular item was stuffed right at the back of it), then smuggling it downstairs and collecting the knickers that I wanted to wear with it.  These were the ones from the rucksack, my favourites I suppose, as they are elasticated around the waist and legs, with the fabric ruched(sp?) around the elastic.  There's a polka dot bow on one side, the left, that's sewn in place with two long trailing bits of fabric.  It's a light pink with the same purple as the main body.  It took me the best part of the day to make sure that these two items were where I needed them.

That night, after writing my diatribe, I put them both on.  I tightened the straps, spaghetti style, of the chemise and left it to gfall about.  I even managed to avoid the usual physical aspects of dressing and focussed on the 'feel' of the ensemble.  It seemed to work.  I think I recaptured part of that feeling from the first occasion in this account.  I felt whole, I felt like me.  It was tinged with guilt and sadness though.  I knew that I was indulging as a direct response to the events of the previous two days and as a means of upholding some rather poorly constructed sense of self.  It was masquerading for a more permanent and appropriate support for worth and it was a pale comparison.  However, it was hard not to get involved in the feeling of tightness around my shoulders as I moved in the duvet, I've been sleeping on the sofa (it's a mattress really) for a number of months now, allowing me to carry out these night-time excursions with relative ease without fear of discovery.

If I had a bust, I'd like to try something like this.
Because of it's length and the sheer impracticality!
As it happened,  slept lightly as I always do when sleeping dressed.  I usually relax better but it does mean that I get woken by noises and movement more easily.  On the one hand this is an effective defence mechanism as it means that I am alert to anyone that may come in (I'm thinking children or wife) but on the other this does mean that when our children have a night waking, as they did, I get up as well.  Part of the reasoning for me sleeping on the sofa is so that I can sleep properly and function at work (the main source of stress in my life if I'm honest).  Our daughter was sick in the night.  I had to throw on my proper pyjamas over the top of the chemise and the knickers and hope no one noticed.  I don't think that anyone did but after I'd helped with the clean up and wrangling of our son I didn't feel safe enough to keep wearing them, no matter how nice it felt, and so ditched them.  Afterwards, my regular pyjamas felt... less nice.

There's a whole lot more going on, and now it is time for me to cease recording this for now.  I shall return to it later.

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All comments are welcome, I have a thicker skin virtually than I do in real life!