|Like this, but less elegant.|
Instead of working tonight, most of what I have to do is either done or do-able in the morning, I am luxuriating because... well, I know I don't deserve it, but I feel like it and I maybe want it to feel a little stressed. So I have on my short skirt (gift from Toby); the top I stole from Tilly's throwing out a few years ago now (velvet style strappy top); my fuschia bra (I chucked the other one); my favourite knickers; my boots and a shirt from my male wardrobe. I wanted to see if wearing a male shirt over a stuffed bra still looked feminine, and it does kinda. It certainly doesn't make me look any more masculine, the beard does a good job of that.
|I'd love to be doing this. I mean, look at how happy and|
carefree she looks. Yeah, I know, it's posed but still.
I love the feel of the velvet top against my arms and I love the way everything hugs me tight. When I got in I put the boots on over my work trousers and I loved that too, the way the boots made the trousers cling to my legs. I love that feeling. I feel safe and warm and hugged tight - as if I am in the embrace of God Herself or Jesus or just the Holy Spirit or all three.
|You have no idea how much I would love to end every day|
at work like this. After the children was asleep, of course
but still, I would love to wear a female tailored suit and just...
well, veg out like that. I want her hair.
More after the break.
|Despite title, not me. But what if it could be. Oh, now that|
would be delicious.
|Oh I would wear the fuck out of this cloak|
and wear a wig like that. Fuck yes.
I'd kneel too.
She's right. But I felt awful about that. Is it fair?
I kinda wish I had breasts. I kinda wish I could spend every evening with red wine, a skirt, a top, boots and a movie. I wish I could share this with Tilly. But it can't and won't ever happen.