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. 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 "Story So Far" Page above this and the "New Readers" 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!

Monday, 18 March 2013


When things change they change so slowly that one often fails to even notice the change taking place. Without incontrovertible proof, many deny the change even happened in the first place, but there is proof and so I cannot deny that there has been a change.

You are one of God's mistakes

A sensually (mainly visual) sexual caption that mainly plays
on the perceptions associated with masturbation
and sex. It is exciting and I make no bones (ha) about that
but point it out as something of interest.
It is interesting to me how the first entry in this blog, that I shan't link to here, is all about trying to describe and capture a feeling for which I had no name. It was a feeling that I associated with, and was started by, the act of dressing. In this case of dressing in a Regency style dress discarded by my wife. It took the best part of a day, walking through the woods with my Boy strapped to my chest alone, to work out what was even happening with that feeling and to reach the conclusion that I was experiencing happiness. I was at a loss to explain it and merely logged it as something interesting. However, it came in the middle of a deluge that left me wondering about the efficacy of the feeling and the dressing as a whole. In effect, I was certain that I could not reconcile that feeling with the action and that I should strive not to.

This is more... wistful and playful. Just... nice.
After all, the general reaction of others to the pastime of dressing in clothes designed for the opposite gender is one of suspicion and fear and anger. To this day Tilly refuses to talk about the whole thing or to contemplate it. When I think about talking to my vicar about it, as I do sometimes, I am minded of the comment he made the last time (I should point out it was the most positive conversation I had with anyone about cross-dressing) about how he could tell his wife and give Tilly someone to discuss it with. I told him that I would ask. Tilly said she would rather not have anyone else know for my protection. By which she meant that she didn't want to discuss it. And I'm still giving her space on that about two years later.

I'm well aware of how it aches

It's actually really difficult to find pictures of
women in armour that is reasonable. Impossible
it would appear, to find pictures of young girls
dressed as knights for a fancy dress party.
I guess that means that Girlie dressing as a knight
is still more important to social equality than
the Boy dressing in a frock.
However, my own view has changed. At the beginning I was trying to see it all from her point of view. In that, whilst I did not agree that Tilly was right, I did want to try and understand her anger and her fear. I did think that perhaps the reason I was so private and secretive about the whole thing had something to do with the fact that there was something to be private and secretive about. I have blogged about it before. If I don't believe that my cross-dressing is something of a problem then why aren't I outing myself to my children? Why am I not explaining that anyone of any gender can wear a dress? Or trousers?

The fact of the matter is that Tilly is already doing this, but not out of any connection with what I do. My Boy has gone to bed and spent entire days dressed in his favourite piece of dress-up clothing: a white tutu with a frilly skirt. Because, hey, we're modern and hip and challenge gender roles. My daughter has dressed as a knight and rescued princesses (including the Boy) and has cross-played, to neologise, with her friends on numerous occasions. At least as many times as she has showed heteronomative play tendencies. And Tilly, like a good mother, condones these behaviours. I imagine that there is a feeling that the Boy will grow out of it and that the Girlie is merely challenging the patriarchy... well, okay, the latter point is more mine than Tilly's but you get the idea.

Yet you still won't let me in

Ah yes, the Left Behind series. I rather liked the
first adventure-style book. But then... well...
Also, a vengeful God.
And that's the point. Imperceptibly I have changed. I now view my cross-dressing in a much more controlled manner. I may not indulge as often as I like and I may not get the chance to discuss it, or even think about it openly, but I do recognise it as an essentially harmless activity. I have made it a part of me. My vicar said that he doubted it was something that "causes God to shake his head" and he may have had a point. I don't know about that, I really don't: my concept of a loving God goes hand-in-glove with a vengeful God that is in charge of Evil too - what can I say, I like my harshness - so he could well be deciding that my cross-dressing is enough to get me kicked into Hell, damnation or simply stagnation in job-hunting (the latter of which is real, so let's blame it on my cross-dressing because why not).

I don't have that much grey hair, but my boss does have
the same vaguely insincere smile. She's not that young
but she is much younger than I. Does that make me that old?
A similar thing is happening at work with my new boss. Having spent most of the first year trying hard to get me out of my job and still being creepily open to me losing part of it, I think she is beginning to realise that I am actually on her side. I am a closed box. I can hear things and listen to people bitch and moan and I have no compunction to share this information with anyone. I remember that a friend of mine, Tim, was dating someone embarrassing back in Sixth Form and asked me not to tell anyone (embarrassing socially for various unkind and unfair reasons, I had no problem with her or the relationship). So I didn't. When he chose to reveal it I was able to act shocked. Afterwards he asked me about my reaction and I told him that he had said that I should act like I didn't know. I had. He was thankful, if confused, that I followed his instructions to the letter. It made it worse when I lied to him about liking Toby a long time later. I digress.

So now I'm breaking down your door

Yeah, that'd be... that'd be good.
Thing is, my boss has now noticed this about me and is using it. She confides about the failings of others in the Department, of her frustrations and her lack of ability to do certain parts of the job. Part of this confidence is down to the fact that I am still under investigation at work and so can't raise any of the issues that she brings to my attention that could get her investigated as I won't be believed. Nevertheless, she has learned that I work for the Department and that my main aim is making sure that things work smoothly and well, even if I am pants at evidencing it later or doing it in a way that a computer can track. I get the job done. I get the outcomes. It isn't pretty and it isn't management based but it works and everyone feels happy about it. To my mind the best management is when people feel supported rather than managed. I get more done that way and people don't even realise that they're doing me a favour. It is not a recognised management style.

What's the point of all of this?

To try and save your swollen face

Partly it is to record my changed feelings on my cross-dressing and the way in which the work environment has shifted a little so that, although it's not brilliant, it is at least better than it was when I started this blog all that time ago.

Though I don't like you any more

But also, nothing has changed.

You lying, trying, waste of space

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