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!

Saturday, 10 August 2013

Feel Trust Obey


Feel like a woman...
The last couple of days have been spent dealing with home stuff. In the course of moving I am learning how much time one must spend by the phone waiting for things to happen. As a consequence we haven't strayed far. Yesterday we went to a local tourist-y spot to meet up with one of the Girlie's best friends. They played well and the roles were reversed from normal, apparently her friend usually winds her up but this time it was her winding him up, mainly due to the fact that we're moving and everything is therefore the straw that broke the camel's back. We spent the evening in the garden and then Tilly and I played on laptops and watched some stuff on TV without really discussing anything - Tilly has started writing again, which is great for her but pants for conversation.

Today we went out to look at getting a tablet after I've returned the iPad we had at work to work. However, plans of playing about with some to get a feel in a shop went down the toilet relatively quickly - Tilly was antsy and the children weren't up for their usual MO of watching the big TVs in electronics stores. The Boy, in particular, was haring up and down. The Girlie was upset because she and Tilly had gone off to say goodbye to the old lady that Girlie has adopted from their weekly bus ride to one of her groups. She was there, which was great, but in a hurry and so there was no conversation nor satisfying meeting. Thus the Girlie was in a bad mood. Tilly was also more antsy than usual, like she was barely containing some kind of explosion. We abandoned tablet shopping and decided to hit the nearest park, this turned into one that the Girlie likes about six miles away. There Tilly had to run off to check a clothing store and the Girlie got progressively more difficult to keep a lid on. So we abandoned in favour of a late lunch. But Tilly had decided to get her hair dyed and so we had to go and get the dye.

We got home two and half hours after we left the park for lunch with hair dye and a hair lightening kit. I looked after the pair of them a bit and then went to get the car vaccuumed - it was needed. Then we had tea, Tilly went to get some more dying supplies from a friend and I attempted to look after the children, with whom I had my own blow up, and we contained it as best we could. Then I looked after the eldest and helped the youngest go to sleep. Tilly dyed her hair pink. She's just painting her nails now whilst I have a beer and a blog.


Trust women...
We discussed Tilly colouring her hair quite extensively. She's been on about it for about a week now. It's not so much the colour that she wants but the feeling of changing something about her appearance to make her feel better. That is, she is not that fussed about what others will think about her change she just feels the need to change something. I can relate, of course, because what is cross-dressing if it isn't the desire to change things connected with appearance without actually needing that appearance to change. Basically I was minded of my own feelings about women's clothes when Tilly was talking about her hair. That need to feel different even if one didn't suit the changes. The outward appearance was irrelevant but the need to change something about it was huge and entirely in one's own head. She had already settled on a shade she wanted but, over the course of the day, she began to become increasingly agitated about it, eventually saying that any shade would do and that she would probably go beyond the streaks she had originally wanted to just dye the whole of her hair.

This effect had previously been observed in the park when we met up with another of the Girlie's friends. She and him were paddling in the duck pond and Tilly shared how she had been the same at that age. We noticed that the Girlie was getting more and more of her wet, Tilly reminded me that she had been the same as a child, culminating in sitting down in the water and blowing the consequences but being wet and miserable on the way home. I didn't make the connection at the time but this is a lot like how I view my own indulgence in cross-dressing. Anyway, we rescued the Girlie from herself, and today I noticed that Tilly was doing the same with dying her hair. Sure enough, the moment the children were in bed she set about dying her hair and has ended up doing the whole of her head before applying nail varnish to her toes and is now doing her hands in dark purple. I should point out that Tilly never usually paints her nails either.

And I totally get it. I get how when she asks my opinion my answer is almost irrelevant, how she just needs to change the colour of her hair or something about how she looks. It is irrational and it is not unreasonable. I get the fact that she suddenly hates her short hair and wishes she had let it grow out longer rather than getting it cut short a few weeks ago, even though at the time she had an urge to go almost bald. I get that, I get the feeling and I understand. Ultimately, as I told her, I trust her to do what she needs to do to feel comfortable in her own skin. It's her skin after all and I love her for all of her, the outward packaging is in her hands and she will look good regardless because it's who she is that I love most, not what she looks like. Though I will confess to liking the packaging too.


And I want to use this to talk to her about my cross-dressing. I want to explain how there are similarities, how my cross-dressing isn't a sexual kink, or at least, not just a sexual kink. I want her to understand that my need is just as irrational as hers and how it is also just as reasonable. I want to try and explain that whilst I would love to be able to pass I realise that I never will and it doesn't really matter or make a difference. Like she understands that she doesn't really 'suit' neon pink hair and purple nails (she'll look good in them, don't get me wrong) and looked a little too pale when she was blonde, nevertheless she did it because she wanted to feel like that and wanted to feel like she could look good like that. I mean, she looked good to me, but that's not the point. It was never about looks. She wants to be able to carry the pink hair, but not in a grabbing attention way, in a way that people will notice it and compliment it but not in a way that people see that she's changed her hair. At the same time she accepts that people will notice her hair more than she would like because it is such a bright colour.

It is very like my urge to dress. As the hair colour carries social connotations too where we live. She knows that people will assume that she is from a Council Estate and that she will be subjected to people who will take her hair colour as proof of the fact that she is a Chav. People will prejudge her, unfairly, and she wants to do it anyway because she wants to feel that feeling that the hair dye carries with it. I think that this is similar to my own feelings about cross-dressing. I get that I will never look like a female, I will never pass, and I get the fact that people will pre-judge why I am doing it, they will judge me unfairly and make assumptions that are insulting and incorrect. They will, like Tilly does, assume that it is all about sexual fetish and about getting my rocks off. They may assume that it is about humiliation, they may assume something else, I don't know. They will think that I do it to attract men or to be something I'm not. They will find it distasteful. But it is not really about the appearance. I don't look good in, well, anything; but I know that I do not look good in female clothes - I am too gangly and long and, well, male.

I would dress, I do dress, because of the feeling. I have written about those feelings on here before now. And it is those feelings that drive me to dress, that drive me to check female clothing in charity shops and look longingly at the outfits that women wear. The woman in the carpark with the platform wedges and black blouse throwing away clothes in the recycling bins. The woman with the pink watch and the big sunglasses driving out next to us, the woman with the denim jacket and pedal-pushers in the park, the redhead with the necklace and bracelet pushing her boy in the swings. I want to feel like they felt. I don't wish to be them, I have no desire to attract a male or undertake sexual acts with a male - I am married and that would be cheating among other things. I am secure in my own sexual identity. Hell, I am secure in being a male mostly.

But that's the thing. Society is pretty accepting of hair dye for women but not for men. I discussed the fact that I had never dyed my hair and that I might try it one day with Tilly. She was rather dismissive. It would look weird, she said; men don't generally dye their hair so it would stand out, she said; men don't really have bright colours so there would be no point, she said; dying hair wasn't really a man thing, she said, it was the preserve of females. And she's sort of right. I dropped the conversation, she persisted in pointing out why me dying my hair was a bad idea, until we moved on to topics about the children.

That, right there, is what inspired me to post tonight. Tilly is right, of course, and it's why my cross-dressing is a non-topic, why she never wants to discuss it or accept it or understand it - it's not done and it's not considered 'normal'. It is uncommon and it is out of most peoples' experience. I don't blame her for that, any more, I had my own strange experience with Toby and that... well, that just messed up my autistic mind because she was not the norm either. Oh, and my cross-dressing was enough to eventually ruin that relationship too (well, combined with my general ignorance and selfishness).

Sing along, sing along, sing along, sing it!

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