An Anniversary and Mobile Phonies

I really want to share one of my new poems with you. It was only written a week ago but I’m really pleased with it so when a chance to dress up and film some came up it was included. I call it ‘Mobile Phonies’ and it’s about that modern day problem, you know the one I mean!

Next time a poem is lucky enough to be filmed I plan to make it more dynamic with editing and everything. I acquired a new software the other day and it’s a lot more user-friendly than the one I used to use. I need to make it more of a video as I guess static shot videos are harder to concentrate on these days.

I also came to the realisation that the 6th (or was it the 7th?) of March was the anniversary of Anna’s first night out. The original post documenting it can be found here https://annasecretpoet.wordpress.com/2015/03/08/annas-alive/ . Since then I’ve technically only managed one other and that was under the guise of a gig. I quite fancy another one at some point as I’m not sure I was sufficiently relaxed enough to enjoy the previous two. Watch this space! Upon pondering this I happened upon a little verse I wrote on the day of the first outing that I had completely forgotten about. It is untitled and I think I wrote it during my lunchbreak that day.

Senses sharpened
I open my eyes
Thoughts turn to
My iminent disguise
Will I be accepted?
Will anyone care?
I must have thought it over
Several times
Every few days
I would change my mind
A nice skirt and top
Or my red houndtooth dress
I never anticipated
This trivial stress
I don’t want to out-femme
My partner in crime
But I do want to have
An outrageous time
Maybe make some new friends
Outwith my comfort zone
‘Cause before I know it
I’ll be on the bus home

I’ve got a little time to also share a few photos from my little video shoot on Saturday night. I hope to have some gig news for the next time fingers crossed. Until then, take care X

Dresses vs Guitars

The common code I use with friends when I’ve recently been dressing is that I had a visitor the other night. Although I suppose this implies a whole other person replete with uniquely different personality and voice etc it’s not strictly true. I change little inside, it’s mostly an external transformation. Years ago I was visited on a regular basis as I had a day off in the middle of the week, still one of my favourite aspects of my time in retail. These days it is more of a struggle as when the opportunity of an empty house arises. The fight between girly time and music commences in earnest. Though I must say that girly time is far more likely to win these days due to the rarity of such chances. There have been times when both co-existed. I can think of a handful of songs I’ve recorded over the years when I’ve been all made-up. I think those songs were probably invested with a little more passion as a consequence. It’s always something I wanted to combine properly at one point – my twin loves of cross-dressing and music. In my current band I have managed a watered down version of this though all I’m missing is a wig and make-up. I will generally wear a dress, tights and heels (sometimes a top hat too!). It’s a memorable image I feel and though it may put some people off I doubt they will forget the band with the dress clad singer. I defend it regularly as a talking point. My wife has come around to it though was for a while anxious as she feared the secret would be out but I’m pretty confident I’ve passed it as exclusively stage attire. I’ll admit though that a few folk who have been let in on the secret recently have gained entry through this but these are people I trust completely.

These are pics I took in July, I haven’t got a post to go with them so thought I’d just slip them in here;

 

An opportunity arose a couple of weeks ago for a visit and it was a morning session which is unusual. Previously in the week I had got a half day so I could go shopping, mainly for a new dress as I had a gig on the Saturday. Shopping is usually a rare event also so I made the most of that and went into all the shops I could – charity shops mainly. My gig dress plan is a desire to have a select few dresses only for gigs as at previous shows I’ve worn some that I really like. So I came to a decision that I want some I care less about to wear at such events. I found one on sale at Asda for £5. It was a 14 but I won’t be wearing bosoms with it so I can just get away with it (it is a small fight to don and remove). In Barnado’s, a local charity shop, I spied a nice top and a dress that would not look out of place on Kim Kardashian – 99p each. The top doesn’t fit so I gave it to my wife and the dress kind of does fit but I can’t zip it up. I can’t explain why I was drawn to it as it’s not my usual style but it intrigued me. I made sure I at least snapped a couple of pics of me wearing it. Interestingly my wife also took that item. She was trying on some dresses a few days later and I showed it to her. She too was drawn to it and was initially shocked as to how short it was on her but I pointed out that she looked incredibly hot. I neglected to add how erotic I found it that she was wearing something that was mine and was making it look good. Obviously it was actually made for a woman so it would look much better draped around the correct body shape. When I wore it I was trying out my new corset/waist cincher and control pants with hip pads so I was giving it a good attempt. I admit I was taken aback when I seen myself in the mirror – I’ve never achieved that shape before and I was most pleased. I had a waist!

 

 

In the few hours I had that morning I didn’t wear as many things as I normally would. I decided I would wear 2 of my least worn wigs (black and long red) and settle on something comfortable but mildly sexy. The mildly sexy part was taken care of with a white satin slip, black hold ups and a burgandy cardigan. Teamed with a long red wig it became most enjoyable. The pictures I was taking ended up taking a saucier turn than usual…

Purging and Progressing

I find it interesting how far I’ve come in terms of style and appearance. It was really around 2005 that I began to take it seriously enough to actually get a proper wig and a decent wardrobe. This short blonde wig doesn’t really suit me but I had it for a while and it was good practice.

  

Until then there were countless cycles of of scavenging folk’s cast off clothes and substandard hair…

…and there were the purges. Sad things that they are, within them lie many regrets. I can think of so many items over the years I foolishly relinquished in the hope that I could stop it all. No clothes – no urge. Problem solved. I always remember the one I did in 2010 because it involved my favourite auburn wig.

The box behind me in the picture is where Anna hid for a few years stowed at the bottom of my wardrobe.

  

Try as I might I’ve been unable to find a satisfactory replacement for that one but I live in hope. I have come close. If you’re going to have a purge I suggest not getting rid of everything because it is inevitable that you’ll begin another. If it’s inside of you it will always remain a part of you. I haven’t done it again since but I guess that’s because I went and made myself official.

I have no sexual attachment to dressing which I understand some people have, for me it is not a fetish. It certainly had the potential to early on as I feel sure I remember enjoying my first orgasm during one of these early sessions. I wonder if anyone else  can recall such an event. I can’t be chronologically specific as time has smudged the details but I do know this to be so. Standard masturbation intercepted in time and I suppose I was saved.

As I write, more memories slink forth. I recall with a mixture of shame and delight opportunistically trying on an aunt’s white wedding lingerie – stockings, suspenders and all. I wasn’t caught! How lucky was that? I must have been around 12 or 13 at that point and it was the most amazing feeling. The gentle tugging of the stockings as I walked, their soft and fresh caress of the shape of my legs. I could have worn them all day was it not for the all too present threat of discovery. I peeled them off, neatly folded them and put them back from whence they came.

Discovery is not cool. I have been so lucky over the years with only a couple of close calls to my name. There’s no doubt however it adds to the excitement, much like people who have sex outdoors and in public places.

Next time I’ll maybe recount one of those experiences, until then here’s another suggestive gem from the archives x

Confessing

Anna isn’t my real name. It’s a girl’s name I chose pretty much at random – from a Page 3 girl as I recall. You see I’m a man that for some undefined reason derives considerable pleasure in transforming himself into a woman. This change is entirely on the surface and does not extend to my mind, I am basically just a man in a dress. It’s a hobby – an odd one perhaps – but through years of practice I think I’ve gotten pretty good at it.

Below are two examples from two different periods in time.

2005 and 2013

2

I can’t be certain for exactly how long I have been doing it. I have a rather vivid memory from sometime in the mid-80’s of trying on a pair of my mother’s heels. It’s fair to say I was hooked instantly. I’m sure my story from then on is similar to everyone else’s, raiding the washing basket for clothes, trying out different things and building up a sense of style and self. Though I feel I should point out early on that I do not desire to become a woman. This is important though makes more difficult to explain or justify (even to myself) why I do it. I just really enjoy the process and especially enjoy the end result.

Cross-dressing is the biggest secret I’ve ever kept and I indeed managed to to hide it successfully for many years. It pales my other secrets into comparison, such as they are. I would love not to hide it but I feel most people are not ready for that bombshell. I did eventually decide to confide in my wife but I’ll admit it was mainly so that she didn’t find out in some other unfortunate way. There was always the possibility no matter how careful or diligent I may think myself. She was genuinely surprised! I had been mulling it over and building up to confessing for a week or so but I still felt sick the moment the words left my mouth. I told her I’d try my best to answer any questions she had about it as I was not sure where to begin. Amongst her major concerns were ‘was I gay?’ and ‘do I want to become a woman?’. I assured her it was a most emphatic negative on both counts but I suppose even then her fears and worries may never fully be at rest.

I contrived to arrange a meeting of sorts, my wife had offered to give me a make-up lesson. I accepted and one night a while later when my little girl was in bed she set to work. I learnt about moisturising but to be honest I didn’t learn anything else. After this I really wanted to get dressed up to show her how seriously I take my look. I donned my smartest (and I’ll admit my most low-cut) black top, black pleated skirt (above the knee of course), black tights and my black 4 inch heels. I was a vision in black, very existential! She had the good grace to say I had nice legs but it must have a little difficult to deal with. Effectively I feel that I was threatening her femininity and since then she begun to wear more skirts. At Christmas that year she bought me a top as a little extra present. It’s a bit like something that Florence Welch would wear so I like it (though haven’t worked it into a definitive outfit yet I’m afraid). I do appreciate the gesture and she also bought me a little black stretchy skirt last year. It’s one of my favourites because it’s quite comfy and a little bit sexy. It certainly makes me more confident about buying her clothes now, especially dresses. We’re certainly more likely to talk about fashion these days but I can’t be certain if this has brought us closer or not. I hope it has as it was one of the main motivations behind my confession.

My wife calls it my ‘thing’ and sometimes it’s my ‘habit’. It’s not in her mind as often as it’s in mine so she can be taken aback when it’s remembered. If I’ve been left alone for a few hours when she’s out and I’m clean shaven upon her return I’m likely to be asked if I’ve done my thing. Very astute. It is often the case, as much as I try not to do it as regularly. Sometimes she’ll ask what I was wearing and I sheepishly oblige with a description. I like it when she’s curious.

Here are a couple of other pictures from the last year, both dresses belonged to my wife and I acquired them during a clear-out of her wardrobe.