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, 26 November 2017


Apparently the smell of a woman, in Google images, is only
smelled by the women themselves. Bit like all perfume adverts
in that regard. I get the distinct impression that smell adverts
are only aimed at the people that wear them...
Further experimentation has suggested that Tilly can't actually smell the sort of female products that I am now using. Some careful testing and asking has yielded the admission that, for the moment, Tilly cannot smell me at all. I am now free from being smelled on approach. It is interesting though that this olfactory camouflage has been created and maintained by using female body spray and deodourant. It does rather suggest that the initial assertion that I smelled bad is based largely on the fact that I did not smell like a female using feminine body products. I have bought a second body spray, because any new obsession must be pursued to dangerous levels, and neither is noticed by Tilly nor, as far as I can tell, by anyone else. Make of this what you will. I like the smell, so fuck it.

Good beer line up.

Another interesting aspect of the evening out (and the
subsequent day) is just how concerned Gerry is with masculinity.
Way more than me. And he is very concerned that his boy
children are boys. To the point that he will deliberately and
ferociously destroy any sign that they are not typical males.

As in stereotypically male. His wife is keen to help.
This weekend also produced a meet-up with a friend of mine. Gerry and his family came down from where we used to live to see us. On the Friday Gerry and I went out to see the pubs of the local place that thinks it's a city (and, technically, it is but... still) and had a chat whilst out-and-about. Turns out that I am not totally alone, another person we both know (better friends with Gerry than I) is currently going month or months without copulation compared to my occasional years. Gerry was amazed by the statistics. Given as he is to over-exaggeration it is hard to know for sure what was bluster and what was reality but I can reasonably certain that his bare patches are measured in weeks rather than months and years and that he has no issues on the sex-side of things. I guess the only surprising thing is the month or months comment - by which he seemed to mean that our mutual acquaintance (well, his friend) had gone months (plural) without sex on one occasion and sometimes only once a month. The chance would, as always, be a fine thing.

That would be the burden of being the
house project manager who keeps the
list of what needs to be done and by
whom as well as taking the lion's share
of the jobs that need to be done.

I don't argue its existence.
Tilly has also started getting into my comments on the Invisible Burden faced by women and, this weekend after being told that I was seeking therapy, has really gone to town on that. References to my work and her work not being seen as equal despite the fact that they really ought to be, how the housework is often her responsibility and I don't really do equal amounts nor equal times and how that is just normal. She has also been delving into "our" use of language (by which, as always, she means 'your' - in this case: 'my') and how it perpetuates that stereotype about women in the house and the housewife role. Ostensibly because it is interesting but, I rather suspect, connected to the revelation that I was seeking therapy. It's also been accompanied with her telling me that she has distanced herself because listening to me talking about how crap I am, not that she's saying I've done this recently you understand, without any hope of reciprocation means that it's not terribly fair on her. So she can offer advice on which therapist to go to or what to say to them but she has no desire to talk about the issues. As long as I bear in mind that it's my issues that they can comment on. The unspoken part of that being that she doesn't expect me to talk about her. I haven't been terribly clear on why I am feeling as I am this time. So there's that element too. Also, twice this week since telling her, Tilly has suggested that I was about to moot divorce based on my tone. I suspect a small amount of projection and not a little fear.

I have so fucking many of these in such a
short time. And only three missing cards
from my old collection (or so). It's...

Well, it's pointless is what it is. A way for
rich privileged white folk to be richer and
whiter and more privileged.
I have told someone at work, in strictest confidence, about my current mental state. I have also got three responses to my fire-hose-like sprinkler-based queries about therapy. And so I have an appointment on Tuesday. £60 up front for an initial session. £1 a minute. Seems a bit steep. Mind you, my research suggests that's the going rate these days for an initial session, so I guess I have to invest a bit. I have some money left over from examining still so that's not too bad (and I've spent over £100 on Magic Cards too, so I really did rather well with the examining this year).

As ever, marking brings me down. Unlike last year I haven't been able to power through it as much and I am struggling not get rather sarcastic and mean with written commentary. That's why I told someone in authority at work about my situation, they need to know if only to protect the students I teach. I am well aware that I am emotionally raw at the moment and that my standard emotions are anger, resentment, sarcasm and guilt-inducement. I'm pretty good with students at the last one, and I do tend to use that to keep order. The thought that I am struggling to pull back from full emotional blackmail and destruction with some of the rudeness and laziness I come into contact with is... well, it causes me disquiet. I am usually good at the balance and getting what I want, here I may inadvertently destroy people.

Speaks for itself.
That said, I have another student that has sought me out to blow off steam too. I really must work on being less approachable, it's actually pretty soul-destroying as my school is rather shit at dealing with teenagers who are close to suicide or suffering mentally with issues that can't be solved with extra revision sessions or aren't connected to examination stress. Nothing changes in that regard, my own school years were marked by that too. I had a long chat once with my Form Tutor about my parents' divorce and how I felt about things - looking back it was patently obvious that I was suffering from depression. We didn't get anywhere. I was very good at talking myself around people's objections until they, too, threw up their hands and agreed with me that, yes, it was very sad but that there was nothing to be done about it. Yay fatalism. Shoulds and oughts abound in my life, I'm good at them even when my interactions with my best friend that created the Universe suggests that They aren't terribly bothered about those aspects of things (not on an individual level). However, all sin stinks equally to High Heaven, mustn't lose sight of that one.

And that's all I have to say about that.


  1. Interesting, really, that while you do not suffer THE Invisible Burden, you are required to keep your own burdens invisible.

    Nice that you are able to indulge in feminine scents. Might qualify as aromatherapy for such as we.

    1. I think the aromatherapy of feminine scent would actually work for most cis hetero-sexuals too. If only society would stop actively trying to mess peoplen up.

      It may be less a requirement and more an approach that I have long ago internalised. Who knows?

  2. Caution: Unsolicited Opinion: It seems a little odd that Tilly is reacting negatively to you seeking out therapy. She doesn't want to do the emotional labour herself, which is fair enough, but she's effectively making it more difficult for you to get the help you're seeking. I think projection and fear is part of it, but there's still a question of why she'd apparently prefer you not to talk about any of this to anybody at all.

    So talking to Tilly about anything therapy-related is going to be fraught with peril, but I don't think that should stop you talking about her to your therapist, as for my money, she's absolutely part of the problem.

    1. Thank you, unsolicited opinions are often the best in my experience.

      I suspect that it's because I have not shared anything about the reason for my low mood with Tilly, much less what I hoped to discuss with a therapist. She is not a fan of not-knowing. Less making my seeking therapy harder and more fear of what, exactly, it's all about. And, this time, she knows it's not work like it was back in 2011.

      And yes, I talked extensively about Tilly and cross-dressing on Tuesday.


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