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!

Tuesday, 29 April 2014


This isn't pretty.

But the image is.

Actually a 17 weeks pregnant woman. It is
disturbingly close to how I look.
My moobs are smaller by dint of my
pigeon chest.
I'm cogitating again and I've been a bit silly in staying up late a few nights reading articles because I don't feel tired enough to sleep. Fun fact about looking at a laptop screen: it makes you feel less tired whilst, at the same time, exhausting your eyes and, yes, actually making you more tired in the long run. So, you read stuff on the screen and use up energy reserves then sleep less and then get up in the morning at the same early hour. Result: you end up exhausted and it's all your own fault. And there's been confirmation that I am, in fact, very very fat. I looked in the mirror, I have a belly that distends like something out of a famine appeal and a pigeon chest where you can still see my ribs and two obvious moobs. However, my limbs remain the same as they ever were. I look pregnant and my trousers don't fit. It actually caused Tilly to laugh uncontrollably on seeing me because "oh my God, you are getting fat!"

I've been watching clips from American Psycho and it is clearly a film that I need to see and a book I need to read. In much the same way that Fight Club is one of my favourite films because it's a thinker. Or even Pyramids! by Terry Pratchett. I don't think they're necessarily the sort of thing that send most people into thoughtful gloom but I have that approach to things. Something that carries the germ of an idea that can settle in the fertile bed of silent reflection during the drive to and from work. A foot that hasn't fully recovered from the sporting incident meaning that I can't exercise as I would like and an eating regimen that has remained largely unchanged since I was 16 (well, I skip breakfast as standard these days so I actually eat less than I used to) means that all of this contributes to being fat. I can kind of see why it is that Tilly has no real interest in any kind of physical interaction. I'm hardly a catch!

When I was depressed I was a nasty horrible person, Tilly told me tonight. She took as Gospel all my judgements of myself in those years and has pretty much stated (not for the first time) that she blames me for her own depression following the birth of the Boy. When she'd go to the therapist, an hour's drive from where we lived back when she couldn't drive, we'd leave the Girlie with a child minder and the Boy would come with us. It was a long drive in the gathering darkness of winter. Once there I would try to look after the Boy so that Tilly could go and get a proper session. More often than not she'd have to take him eventually and, by that point, everywhere would be shut. I took to taking a pad and a pen and sitting in a pub there. I'd have a coke and some pork scratchings and not write anything down in that pad. Sitting alone and thinking. I couldn't mark or prepare lessons and couldn't really sit in the car in the dark and the increasing cold. The journey back would be punctuated by regular stops to allow Tilly to calm a crying baby with breastfeeding and a conversation in which Tilly would apply what she had learned in cod-psychology of me.

That's when we drifted. Never argued, it just became clear
the parts of her I loved so well would slowly disappear but
these are the days that bind us, together. Forever. These
little things define us. Forever. And Ever.
When Tilly feels threatened or vulnerable she goes on the offensive and so I came in for a lot of challenge and pointed remarks. If I shrugged off questions I didn't really want to talk about in depth then she would transform into a dog with a bone, desperately trying to make me feel as bad as I now know she felt I made her feel. Part of all that was asking her how she felt, something I didn't do often enough, and so many evenings (these were on work nights) would be transformed into long discussions about how my lack of emotion was making her hate me or how useless I was in comforting her when she felt bad. It was a gruelling six months.

Then we had our argument about cross-dressing in that July and she became even angrier. I now know that she had managed to convince herself that I had never told her nor hinted at the fact that I was an active cross-dresser. She systematically ignored any hints that I had left and elected to deliberately misinterpret my actual statements in the past. This allowed her to avoid something she disliked and did not understand and then to feel righteous anger at the fact that I had brought it up out of nowhere. She felt able to punish me by loading me with more to do and criticising that that I did. She was able to do that to make me feel as bad as she felt I was making her feel. She blamed me for pretty much everything. And, as seems to be the case with Tilly, now she's better and a good three years have passed she has convinced herself that this story that she made up for herself to justify her meanness to me is the truth.

I'd happily look like that.
I know it is a story that she made up for herself because she told me she had done so. I know that it wasn't really true because she said as much when I learned that she had set up things for me to do to fail at so I would feel bad after one of her therapy sessions. Well, either that or she was lying back then. Frankly I don't know any more. Thing is, the relation of these things, the fact that this story is now the truth, was done in a flippant manner. It's not something she considers hurtful or even remarkable, it's like commenting on the weather or a TV show.

I no longer know who is who in this
And so I'm down. Again. And, as I do when feeling down, I do stuff to justify feeling down. I end up looking at pornography and I end up feeling sorry for myself. I listen to the Cranberries and Edward the Liar and all I really want is something floral. I no longer even know what that would actually be or what it would look like. I just know 'floral' the impression, the feeling, and I wish I could feel it. I remember Toby and the last time anyone but me did the work with masturbation and I feel bad, because that's a previous relationship and for all my piety at the time I was a dirty little fucker. I wish that Tilly would be more physical and feel bad because that's not my choice to make, it's hers, and she's made it abundantly clear that she does not care for it. Either because I fail to provide any emotional closeness or because I'm not wooing her enough or I'm not offering anything of myself or I'm too impersonal and analytical or she just doesn't care for sex with anyone at all. The reason is totally irrelevant. There is no normal. There is no right and wrong. There is no compatibility. There is no compromise. There is only sexual pressure from me and a distaste for it from her and who am I to impose on her? Who the fuck do I actually think I am? And what do I want anyway? What would make any of it right? Sex clearly isn't enough because, I'll confess, I have to work hard inside my head to get anything out of what we do and I couldn't really care less about completing by PIV.

I appear to have gone off on a rant. I'll stop now, I'm not really sure what the point of it is.


  1. The point was to unburden yourself, and that is enough. I will try to email in the near future. You need a friend.

    1. Thank you. I wish I could articulate my appreciation for your comment alone. But I can't.


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