One thing I’ve never done and harbour a mild desire to do is actually meet other cross-dressers. I’ve seen photos online of them meeting up so I know it happens. I’ve also read it in a book I got not long after I confessed to my wife. It was called ‘My Husband Betty’ and it was written under the pseudonym Helen Boyd by the wife of a cd in America. It seemed like a good idea at the time – I thought we could both read it and it could maybe put our minds at ease a little. Demystify it as it were. I elected to read it first as I have more opportunities to read than my wife who is often running around after our daughter and running a household. Also I felt I should vet it in some way as I had the feeling it may not do what I thought it would. It made for insightful and uncomfortable reading at times. Some of it didn’t really apply to me which I expected as I guess the author was painting a very broad picture.
I was particularly intrigued by the concept of ‘girl substitution’. I didn’t have a girlfriend until my late teens and I think I may have done that on and off for a while prior to that. What I mean is that in the absence of a girlfriend I effectively created my own – though I didn’t get to spend as much time with her as I’d have liked. I read the whole book in a matter of days, even the bits that I didn’t think I needed to. My wife made a start on it but it seemed to make her uncomfortable. What must have been going through her mind? She may have wondered how much I have played it down for her. She would only read it when I was nearby. I don’t suppose it helped that ‘Betty’, the husband in the book, actually began to transition some time after the book was published and that is the subject of another tome entitled ‘She’s not the man I married’. Suffice to say my wife never got past the first couple of chapters and where I thought there’d be frank and adult discussion there was nothing. At that point for perhaps selfish reasons it made me wish I’d told her a lot earlier. We could have went shopping together without the kids (as there would have been none then) and I could have dressed more about the house with ease and without anxiety and that bastard guilt. I do try not to dwell on these things so I can live in the now. Everyone’s allowed a harmless bit of introspection now and then I think. I can look back and see there are stages I have gone through and every so often the ante gets upped. I liken it to when I got into Pink Floyd and eventually had all the albums and a healthy stack of bootlegs. From one CD grew a whole collection. I don’t suppose meeting with others is on the cards any time soon.
The next landmark will definitely be the breast forms I ordered off Amazon last week, they’re a C cup if you’re interested. I cannot wait to get my grubby little hands on them. I’ve been looking for the package every night this week when I’ve arrived home. I really can’t wait to put them in place in a nice bra with a freshly shaved chest. I don’t think I can fully rest till they’re here, they’re probably the riskiest thing I’ve ever ordered. Wigs, corsets and underwear ain’t got nothing on these bad boys. It’s a new company that’s selling them and they don’t have a rating yet so I really hope I’m not their first mistake.