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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!

Monday, 5 December 2011

Going Out

24th October 2011

Today I did it, I went out for a walk in a skirt and heels.  I had to walk a long way to find somewhere to change into these as I couldn’t so very well leave the house thus attired without my wife seeing what I
These shoes would be brilliant:
non-slippy soles and a heel!
was wearing and doing.  Something I don’t think she wants to see, particularly, and not something I feel ready to deal with.  I found a back alley and was caught with my trousers down (quite literally) but with heels on, by a figure approaching, prompting me to run quite a distance into the darkness and to hide behind a bush for a while.  This actually summed up the two over-riding feelings of the experience: walking in heels was everything that I had hoped it would be, being exciting and also feeling like I was being myself; and that keeping myself from being ‘outed’ by strangers was actually the over-riding concern, which was something of a buzz-kill.
Don’t get me wrong.  The purpose of my little jaunt was not to get my rocks off or even to have a jolly, it was simply to walk a long distance in high heels, something I could not do in the house and something that I have been wanting to do since I bought the heels.  This has now been achieved.  At first I walked further down the uneven back alley with a skirt and heels but then I turned down a street and had a walk on a path.  It was actually difficult to work out how to walk in the heels, I’m rather used to taking long strides and hitting my heels down hard, but once I got the hang of smaller steps that was fine for a while.  I changed out of the skirt though, so I could walk along the main road back to the bottom of my street, I would have liked to keep the skirt on, but I figured that I would be better able to hide the heels than the fact that I was wearing a skirt.  This was proved by passing cars and a cyclist, none of whom noted my choice of footwear but who would have noted my skirt had I been wearing one still.
Coming back down my own road was an exercise in trying to avoid being seen, or, at least, avoid my heels being seen by people who live close by.  I don’t quite know why this was important save for the embarrassment that would surely follow someone questioning my reasons for wearing inappropriate footwear (and it was inappropriate, I am ever more confused as to why women wear heels for fun, unless they get the same feeling I did).  My calves hurt, going down slopes was next to impossible, steps were a challenge, I had to walk toe to heel, with heels in and toes out, crossing my centre of balance and I had to take much smaller steps than I was used to.  Running across the road took three times as many steps as I’m used to and wasn’t much quicker than my walking pace – which was actually pretty fantastic – though it made me feel quicker.
I so want that dress and heels!
The noise was also brilliant, the clacking of the shoes actually caused by the toes hitting the deck rather than the heel, as I’d always assumed.  There was the odd crunch that women make on the tarmac, and I experienced it too.  Also, there was the fact that my legs hurt up the back – but it was a soft hurt and one that, even now, makes me feel like it was me that was out there doing the walking.  I even chatted to God once I braved the path in the woods I had originally set out to walk.  This was done due to the realisation that there was nothing to fear in there: I was the pervert in the woods.  In heels, so hardly a threat to anyone.  If anything I felt less secure when I was wearing trainers, that’s when I started to feel jumpy and scared of the shadows, in heels I felt that I could take on the world.  I do, I love my heels.  If I could, I would buy more, but £5 is enough to try and hide at this stage, I would have to save up before buying more and I think a proper long dress is in order first, or some other way of going out dressed.  Changing in the dark with the fear of discovery is a bad plan, and likely to get me reported to the Police, and not without good reason I suppose, one looks rather suspicious crouching in the bushes changing clothing!
No, it was a worthwhile experiment.  I doubt it fills any of God’s purposes or plans for my life, but then I don’t seem to do any of that anywhere else in my life either, and like I said to Him myself: it felt like I was me out there.  I genuinely enjoyed myself, I felt as though I was the one doing the walking.  It was liberating, feeling as though I was constrained, and I loved the fact that I was walking in heels.  I loved the noise, the feeling, the pain even.  It wasn’t pain.  It was muscles adapting to a new way of doing things.
Again, I’m not certain why I decided to do it, nor why I am recording it, but I do know that I enjoyed it, am glad I did it and am planning to do it again.

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