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, 13 April 2014


It's another one of those posts I'm afraid. There's a line break to avoid reading further, as per. It's the holidays, in case my lat post didn't make that blindingly obvious, and I'm already in that place that Tilly tells me is perpetual. The one where I get as angry with the children as she does when she's had a week-long trainwreck except that I do it in about ten minutes. The one where the bickering starts and she gets angry at me. The one, basically, where I'm a tit.

Last night, taking the Boy to bed, I fell asleep and did not rouse until 1am. We had planned to do writing. This morning I have managed to make my Boy so sad that he has started to cry. Go me. Like I say, there's a line break and it's there for a good reason.

What can I say?

Not the Boy, but a boy, in a dress.
Our Boy has worn a tutu before now,
just 'cos, and hasn't been discouraged
(or encouraged).
The background to this is the fact that on Thursday the Boy decided that what he wanted to do was wear his sister's summer dress that she was now too big for. Of course I indulged that whim, after all, I'm liberal. So did Tilly. She posted about it, with pictures, on social media and even commented, to me, that evening that it was no concern if that were to be his choice. Then, on Friday, the Boy wanted to join in the girly time of Tilly and Girlie painting their nails and, of course, Tilly let him. When I took him out yesterday, in the local market, he was wearing a raincoat with a hood. Obviously male coat, obviously male wellies (they were Planes ones) and I kept referring to him both by name and male sobriquets. Even so, the moment people saw he had nail varnish on they referred to him as 'little girl' and 'she/her'. It was quite an eye-opener. I shared this with Tilly and she was angry and a little resigned. "As if wearing girly things makes a boy any less a boy!" she shared. Interesting, if not a double standard. Or, perhaps, simply more palatable as the excuse can be formulated (however baseless and ridiculous) that 'he doesn't understand what he's doing.' Apart from, you know, the fact that he does or he wouldn't be doing it.

This... is actually pretty accurate. If myself or Tilly are
telling the Girlie to stop playing on her thing or she is just
trying to create an issue.

Did the Daily Hei- Mail manage to take a picture of our
Girlie without us knowing?

Nah, her computer is 7" and black.
Throughout yesterday afternoon Tilly let the Girlie play on her touch screen mini-computer. Now, there's background here too. Last weekend, letting her do this resulted in many meltdowns and the assertion from Tilly that she would not let Girlie play on it for fear of similar happenings. I concurred. The following week had me arriving home to tales of my daughter's appalling manners, inability to concentrate and general tantrums all connected to playing on the blasted computer. Tilly regularly, like four or five times a night, bemoaned the fact that she did not prevent access to the thing and this made her as permissive and useless as her mother. I made all the 'right' noises and listened but there's not a lot else I can do when I actually happen to agree that threatening removal of the device and then letting the Girlie have it anyway kind of reduces the power of the threats and actually serves to increase Girlie's rudeness and tantrum like behaviour. She's being rewarded for it, duh.

Sure enough, at teatime, our daughter started tantruming. She fell over on the table, she shouted, she spat, she wouldn't eat, she cried, she was rude, made stupid noises. Now, I had previously been told I was being too angry with the Boy in the morning and with Girlie the night before. Tilly was handling this one. Long story short, I ended up in the middle of a shouting match twixt Girlie and Tilly and a crying match twixt Girlie and the Boy. I reacted badly. I took the Boy to his bedtime routine and then fell asleep.

Interesting. Check this out:
Enjoy the Silence it's a parenting
blog that addresses some of the issues
I raise here.

No permission has been given for my
use of this image. I shall happily take it
down if requested.
The point of all this background is, I hope, pretty clear. I don't understand why it is that our children are allowed to get away with so much more than I am. The Boy in particular. I know that, were I to ask, Tilly would defend what he is allowed to wear by saying, blithely, "he'll grow out of it" and that she has a bit of a hang up about my immaturity anyway - the touching in the relationship that we don't do because it's only for teenagers as a case in point. In this interpretation, then, the Boy is engaging in similar behaviour but it's fine, and defendable, because he will grow out of it. And I am jealous of my own child. Which is ridiculous on so many levels I don't even know where to begin.

He can wear dresses, engage in girlie tasks, like pink and ribbons and frills and lace, paint his nails, wear make up, share bubble baths of a feminine nature, flounce and whatever else and this is something to be championed in our patriarchal world. He is lauded, as a small child, for all the stuff that I am reviled for by the same woman. And that rankles. It's not the fault of the Boy, I know, no point getting upset with him. But there is a move to normalise such behaviour in children, especially boys emulating girls (mainly because girls emulating boys already has a name and is already considered, generally, just fine), and the reasons that are used to defend it seem eminently applicable to my own form of dressing. But they are not considered similar or even related and I guess I have a hard time reconciling that.

Close, my skirt is lighter and the sweater has
shorter sleeves and is a deeper red.
The blouse layer effect is also white with
pink detailing. I'd say 'close enough' but it...
well, it's close enough to give an impression.
Upstairs I have a lovely denim skirt and new sweater top in red and pink that I would love to wear. The springtime is here and I could add the tights in black and some boots and not even be out of season. My foot is healed enough to take the heel in the boots and I could have worn it a few times as an ensemble just to feel, well, for want of a better word: 'pretty'. Isn't that why women wear clothes such as those? That's why women have access to trousers and practical clothing, right, they want to be able to do stuff in a utilitarian manner as much as anyone else and, now and again, they want to feel pretty. I am the same in that regard. Now and again, I'd like to feel pretty. Hell, I know I don't look it (I'm not that kind of guy) and I know that I fail in regards to being rugged or handsome. In short, I'm a fairly ugly lump, but it's not about looks.

The Boy wears the clothes he does, the dresses and the pink and the nail varnish, to feel part of the group and because he likes it. In fact, does it even matter why he does it so long as it's his decision? That is why Tilly supports what the Boy does and, indeed, why I do too. I'm just wondering when the same logic would be applied my way.

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