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!

Sunday, 1 April 2012

Dronkon-ness

Misspellings are deliberate in the title, think Chaucer.  But I have been drinking.  Went footling for 90s dance stuff.  Found a track that reminded me of when I was revising for my GCSEs, or maybe they were over and it was the extended summer holidays.  It may have been between A Levels and University.  My Dad had left.  I found a stash of really short aprons in a drawer in the kitchen, obviously sexualised items, and I decided it would be a good idea to wear the shortest and most frilly and tie myself by the neck to the kitchen tap.  Must have been my Mum's.  She must have noticed when she moved that they had been tampered with.  Maybe she didn't.

A few days later I would do the same but in our shed.  I screwed a picture holder into the roof and dressed only in the apron.  Tied my neck to the screw and then my wrists together behind my back.  I'd taken a pair of scissors as a safety precaution.  I had no idea why I did it either then or now.

So which is it?  Bondage, emasculation or femininity?

This is off two Real Ales (Brakspear Organic Beer [4.6%, 2.3 units] and IPA [5.9%, 3 units]).  I am such a lightweight it's not even funny.  There's an odd feeling about me but it's not liberation.

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