|Heh, it's cross-dressing in a 'cross'|
Well, I laughed.
Sure enough, Tim and Emily were slightly late, having travelled up from her parents' house, and we sat and had a convivial chat. My beer, brewed myself, was partaken in small quantities (it is very small beer, less than 4% and probably lower than 3%) and then we went out to my local chain pub for a meal and, in my case, a pint. It was a good visit. Tim, Emily and I had good conversation and, when we returned, the Boy and Tim played happily whilst Emily and I discussed feminism at length, as we are wont to do. They left before tea and the Boy and I had a good evening of convivial (that word again) companionship and some food. Then he played with his wooden train track for about an hour, very happily, with me doing some small matters around the house (he likes to play when I watch, he gets put out if he's left alone too long), before we went to bed and he was fast asleep by 7pm.
|The hairband looked nothing at all like this.|
It was a thin Alice Band style with a small
bow. Both were in pink. The wig was a
ginger and blonde mix and straight.
Seeing that in the mirror, even framing my
hideous visage, was pretty damn' powerful.
And that's it. Not sure what I mean to do with this entry except to record the immense power the dressing had this time. Far greater power than this time last year (though that was in a different life in many ways) and much more lasting in emotional effect than the first time recorded in this blog. No, last night was very short but arguably the most powerful emotional experience I have known in about three years. I wish, earnestly wish, that I could share that with Tilly. That I could explain to her the feelings that coursed through me and thus show her that my dressing is not a vile, secretive and dirty thing but a thing of great healing and intensity. Basically, that it was safe and as much part of me as is brewing my own beer, reviewing said beers or writing bad fiction.
Calvin's comment (last night's entry was set up a few days ago, sorry, I couldn't post it on New Year's Day and I wanted to say nice things first so I put it back a couple of days) and had a warm fuzzy feeling for the rest of the night. Of course, now I want to track down who the model was in the picture, see if there are any more, and rashly change all of my profile pictures to that model. I am... well, I am very flattered. Which is very silly, given the fact that I have a beard, a gaunt face, pallid complexion (I think pallid is the right word, it may not be) and hair in all the wrong places. My smile is more cartoonish (in that there are many wrinkles, have been since I was a small person) with proper British teeth (they really are naturally yellow - many dentists will attest, no whitening toothpaste has ever changed that, apparently it means that I have uber-strong enamel) and a pointy annoying nose. Anyway, yes, if I were to be a woman I would happily look like that!