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, 7 October 2014

The more you dress

...the less you stress.

And the more one dresses like this in the woods the less
stress one feels just generally, I would posit.

That is not looking like a picture in which stress would be
allowed within fifty feet.
I was reminded of this adage by someone on another forum and I think it is largely true. I managed to get up early enough on Monday that there was actually time in the morning for me to try dressing again. So, of course, I tried. Anxious not to go over the top or find that I didn't have the time I thought I did (it's been a while) I plumbed for dressing in the dress that I bought a while back on the grounds that it was hanging up rather than in my special box. This went well, I even figured out how to wear the shoulders so that the waist was in the right place and the skirt hung correctly. I thin, because it was cold, donned my dressing gown and headed downstairs. Whereupon Tilly woke up and started pottering about.

Tilly is Grumpy Cat.
A bit of context. Tilly hates mornings. With a fiery passion undying. She has steadfastly refused to rise before 7.30am since the birth of our eldest child in 2008 (and, of course, was never up at that time before then) come Hell or high water. Our children can be awake and in need of input but if it's before 7.30am that ain't happening. I have come home to tales of ruined days based on the fact that the children were awake after I left but an hour or two before Tilly decided to actually get up. Why was she up? Writing.

She heard from a friend something I have suggested before: that getting up early may give her some time on her own to write. And so, with that, my time for dressing is gone. I can never do it again. She wakes when I leave the bedroom and will stay writing until I leave for work. We've discussed that I can't dress when she's abroad or in front of the children and, now, that is never. This comes after a discussion in which she asked if I needed to arrange time to dress and I pointed out that I can't exactly ask her for it because then she would know I was doing it and that is what she wants to avoid ever knowing  - it's one of the conditions she has attached to having it happen.

Tilly. But not actually.
I am trying to support her, I really am, because Tilly is writing a novel. She's getting closer to doing so than I think I have ever managed in my life time and that needs some support from me. So, when she wants to go research in the library I come home early from work (like tonight) and take my share of childcare (I'd do house things too, but my hand is still purple and green from my fall). When she needs to spend time with her writing buddy online I back off and let her have it. When Tilly needs an evening with a book to recharge, and her laptop on Twitter to market and plug at the novel that is what she gets. If she needs time on a weekend, I take the house and children, of course. I do want her to finish her novel and publish, I do, and that means I must put in some effort to help her have that time - we're parents, time is not infinite.

Boo this, man - [ghost emoji]

If you don't get that, watch some John Oliver.
But I'm whining. I haven't dressed, apart from the five minutes on Monday (which ended with me stripping out of the dress and carefully bundling it back to the spare room when Tilly wasn't watching), since the beginning of July-ish. Indeed, since around the time that Tilly agreed to try moving towards maybe having sex again. That's a long time, for both things. I am no closer to a physically intimate relationship with my wife (she still doesn't wear her rings, by the by, and that was brought home today when I come home to her wearing a pigging mood ring she bought on a whim over the Summer) than I was in July. And I have no real means to do anything else. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to do anything in private now. She goes to bed after I do, insists on going to the toilet before me and regularly times me on the loo. No, really. I can't fuck off to another room without a damn' good reason and I feel pretty awful using time I get for marking work to do, well, other things.

Okay, it's whining, mainly man-whining which is the worst kind. And I'm dropping commas and I really don't care.

Tilly knows a friend who is in a sexless marriage. The woman in the relationship can't get any sex with her husband. Tilly has confided that she feels no sympathy for the woman, and reminds me that this woman has odd views on dogs over children and is a bit demanding and a bit mad. In fact, she finds it useful as this is one woman among all those that Tilly is friends with - every other friend she has wish their men would stop pressuring for sex. I have no idea how often they 'give in' nor how much pressure they are under, but Tilly suggests that this makes what she expects not only normal, but my general wish for sex a bit unreasonable. Not in so many words, but that's the impression I get. Still, I don't get to use the "it's not what you said, it's how you said it" attack because I can't actually control nuance in my tone and am socially damaged by having a mother who had no difference in tone, leaving me and my brother to guess when sarcasm was in force or irony or sincerity - I'm used to getting that wrong 50-60% of the time with my mother. Long story short - if I can't use tone correctly myself, I can't complain if Tilly's tone comes across incorrectly. Ever.

O me fucking miseram.

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