Anna’s Alive!

So I survived intact after a night out as Anna. I’m not sure how to write about it but I do know I should keep it brief and vaguely interesting. I have read accounts of other people’s nights out and some have a tendency to overshare, delving into the minutae in excruciating detail.

This is how I looked after around 75 minutes of scrambling around in a work toilet…

I think having someone else with me helped a great deal, the only real terror came when exiting the toilet and stepping out the main door. It was so damned windy and my hair immediately went to pot. I met my friend and we walked to the train station. On the way I was read by a couple of passing girls who screeched with what I can only assume was glee “tranneeee!”. That did make me chuckle. From then on though I was oblivious to any other such attention. In fact I feel I should thank everyone I came into contact with that night for not batting their eyelids and treating me as normal. Basically I just had to go for it and interact with people and it paid off. Having never really given Anna’s voice any thought prior to this, I thought it best to just speak a bit softer without being over the top scaling octaves like a mad man. It seemed to work.

We only had between 6 and 10pm to work with so we went to 2 places. First we had food at a place called ‘The Living Room’ and it was really nice and friendly. The waitress impressed me no end by asking ‘us ladies’ if we wanted a drink while we waited. Whilst there I also got to visit the Ladies Bathroom which has always been a mysterious place for me. I fixed my hair and make-up and a couple of other girls were taking selfies.

The next venue was a bar in the Merchant City of Glasgow called ‘The Riding Room’. Now this is defintely a place I’ll return to, in fact me and my friend are discussing the possibilities of this. I’ll try not to get too excited just incase. This was my first opportunity to go to the bar and I think I did alright. The barman even called me darling. In fact my friend was certain he was checking me out! Whilst there my boobs came a little undone so I had to visit the bathroom again to fix them – damn! On the way back up the stairs (for the toilets were downstairs) a man held the door open for me and said “after you hen” which quickly became another highlight. It was indeed sad to leave, though it could have got awkward as the place started to fill up with people and a couple of them I actually knew from the gig circuit. I curse myself now for not going over to say hello as they are arty types who would probably have appreciated the effort that went into such a transformation. Well that’s what I’m telling myself 😉

Back to the station we trudged. I got my man bag from Left Luggage and we popped to the toilets so I could change. Funnily enough I got shouted at while I was at the mirrors by an attendant. “You’re not supposed to be in here” he said, but I assured him I was a woman 5 minutes ago and he didn’t have a problem then!

I had the luxury of an empty house when I got home so I decided to make the most of it and got dressed again (what am I like?).

Really glad I went out and I can’t wait to do it all again and hopefully with a bigger crowd (and for longer). I feel so blessed that I have great friends that are more than happy to go along with my tranny tendencies, I wish everyone had that.

No Ordinary Debutante

With Anna’s social debut only weeks away the proper planning kicks in. For an average night out I hardly have to pre-think at all – well I am a man! An outfit, such as it is, will be picked at almost the last minute. This man outfit will most likely be a shirt and a coloured jeans combo which I have favoured in recent years. With Anna I feel I’m starting from scratch. Though I have to try hard to resist the temptation to buy loads of new things. Theoretically I don’t need a new jacket but I am keeping an eye out for one, preferably a black one that isn’t too long. The two jackets I have already both have their flaws, the hooded one particularly. Sadly that comfy number is cursed with sleeves that are a little short (or are my arms too long?). The long green one is fine but it’s £5 price tag was the chief motivation behind its purchase.

I never envisaged going out for a prolonged period of time else I would have invested a little more thought into their purchase. As for what I’m wearing beneath the jacket, that is easier. From when the idea of a night out was first mooted I instantly thought of my long red houndtooth dress paired with black ankle boots. More or less the outfit I donned on my last expedition outside. In the last week I have been stocking up on some accessories plus I bought a purse and a bag (both from a charity shop). Also, my thoughts have turned for the first time to earrings. Not having pierced ears they never really occurred to me before. Bless you clip ons! I couldn’t decide between hoops or red diamante drop ones so I got both. They were both off of eBay and were relatively inexpensive. I also purchased some rings, a new scarf and something pretty to wear on my wrist. Did I forget to mention that I got a new wig as well? My brown one has been in faithful service for nearly four years now and up close does not look too healthy so replacing it had been on the cards for a while anyway. The plastic hooks that control the tightness disintegrated some time ago and it’s being held together by paperclips!

Where should we end up? It will be after work and indeed it is with two female friends from work who shall be accompanying me. Eating may very well be cheating but it will be for the best – I don’t want to be sick over my lovely dress (or over them!). Initially I had wanted to go to a t-friendly bar/restaurant, but most of the ones I checked out were fully booked on the night in question. Looks like it has to be a normal bar/restaurant – a baptism of fire (well no actually, the whole first hour after coming out of the toilets will be the baptism of fire). Booking the table under my female name made me chuckle. Afterwards I’m hoping to end up in an area of Glasgow called the Merchant City which has several LGBT pubs/bars/clubs. There is one in particular I’d like to end up in as I hear their cocktails are spectacular.

Of course the issue of changing and commuting to town was put in place early on to enable the plan to built upon it. I shall change in work, bag up my man stuff and all three of us hop on a train for fpur stops. My man stuff will be deposited in Left Luggage for approx 4 hours and I aim to change for the journey home. At this point I must confess that I have not told my wife. There are still three things she doesn’t know and one of them is my occasional trips to the outside world. I do often consider imparting these last remaining secrets but then think better of it. It’s almost like I enjoy still keeping some of it for myself but also I know it could ruin things as they are. We have reached a rather comfortable stage I think, one in which we can have casual discussions about a skirt or she’ll recommend a foundation to me. I just need to be very careful but I always have been 🙂

See me shiver with antici……pation

I am filled with inexpressable joy. It turns out that I have a chance to dress again really soon. Must have been a month or two since the last time – so long I can’t remember exactly when. What I do remember is that it was only for a couple of hours one evening. This next dress date promises an empty house for just under 24 hours. A rarity indeed! As a result I have a half day booked off work and even plan to celebrate with the now annual event of removing the leg hair as well as the chest hair (low cut tops here I come). I’ve also found myself quietly planning outfits – I have some new ones you see. Some tops and a skirt from a ‘Christmas shopping trip’ I made with a friend from work. Recently I have also come into possession of a couple of dresses from one of my wife’s friends.They are both size 16’s so they are too big for my wife and there is something appealing about them I can’t explain. I wouldn’t have purchased them if I’d seen them in a shop but then I probably miss a lot when I’m browsing. I’m still a nervous soul deep down and my shopping style is perhaps a little furtive at times. The other reason that I’m pre-planning is that I would like to try having another little clearout. I know I have some things that still aren’t part of a definitive outfit so they have to go. Of course I’m saying that now but there are some things like a few of my skirts that I keep saying I’ll get rid of but don’t because I really like them regardless.

  

These days I have been selling my unwanted stuff on eBay so it means I can get a bit of cash from things like dresses, tops and even a couple of my old wigs. Though I mainly sell non-girly things like CDs, DVDs, books – I even sold a clock recently. I admit I can’t often find it in my heart to be ruthless when it comes to clothes and shoes. Even with ones that are holey and busted. Some of the band t-shirts I’ve kept hold of down through the years are in an unspeakably abominable state. Shoes as well, ones that are really worn down and holey – I tend to keep them for the summer months. The dry season.

Speaking of busted shoes and an extended dress date, both of these factors have previously met, or should I say collided in an unfortunate fashion. In January last year I’d treated myself to a pair of black knee high boots with a cuban heel. Finding decent cheap boots was tricky last year as my usual outlets had forsaken the heel. They were all selling perfectly decent boots but with no elevation. There needs to be a heel or I’m not interested. I managed to find a pair that met both standards of height and size (accomadating my biggish feet) for £10 in the sale at Primark. Trying them on at home, they fitted fine so I removed the tags and tossed the receipt. A week or so later when giving them their first proper outing, the zip on the right boot came apart in my hand. I was furious. That basically ruined my night though I sought to repair it as best I could. The wonder that is super glue eventually solved this problem. Luckily they both slip on alright without engaging the zip, especially when wearing hoes.

  

As well as planning outfits I also plan to just try and enjoy it while it lasts, even see if I can stay in character (such as it is) throughout – except when sleeping, that’s just silly! In the past I have managed around 6-8 hours in the evening on average. Sometimes there’s even a little overspill into the morning when I wake up. I’m looking forward to waking up with smooth legs. I only repeat it in the morning though if I know there’s time to do it and tidy up. Not that I’m really messy or anything you understand but just incase I’ve left something lying out. That’s a remnant of the past right there, a sign of my diligence. I was never caught out but came pretty close on a few occasions. I avoided it with stupendous luck that one time I became locked out. One other time I had left a box of my wife’s make-up out that I had been using. It was one that she didn’t really use much so she was confused as to why it was sitting on the bed. I hastily explained that I was tidying up under the bed and I had left it out to see if she still wanted it. She did want to keep them as it happens so back under the bed it went. In recent years such situations have more humourous potential. For instance, if I put any of Anna’s stuff in for a wash it can sometimes cause mild confusion. Black tights for instance did just that a few months ago. When we were sorting through all the dry washing separating it into bundles I noticed my tights (the only pair in the wash as it happens) going into my wife’s pile. I raised a polite objection and after a brief tete a tete she conceded I was right and we laughed about the absurdity of it.

I hope to post again soon and share any pics or stories from my dress date…providing of course they’re worth sharing

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…

CD Hangover

I’m sitting on the upper deck of a double decker bus and I feel awful. The girl seated directly in front of me with gorgeous long red hair isn’t even filling me with cheer. I’m on my way to work, later than usual so I’m hemmed in with a lot of kids on the journey to their education. I’m down mostly because I had a good dressing session last night and this is my come down. Flat shoes, trousers and the daily commute. Last night I was wearing 3 of my newest dresses, including one that I had bought in a charity shop earlier on that day. It’s so pretty and I had got it for a good price because the belt holes were damaged. It was a really nice day actually, I went with a good friend from work who knows about Anna. We visited the Botanic Gardens in the West End of Glasgow and then had a wander around the shops. She purchased a really nice dress as well from a different store.

I had a good couple of hours and even managed to cook dinner and eat it during my session. I had to put a hair band in to keep the hairs at bay. When my wife returned I could see she wasn’t amused. Normally she is tolerant of this activity, could have been tiredness I’m not sure but last night wasn’t one of those occasions. I had to retreat, a defensive measure. From euphoria to despair, it’s funny how it makes you feel like that. It’s been a while since those feelings have crept in. I don’t think I deserve them. I don’t rub it in her face and I’m careful not to bring it up regularly as much as I’d like to discuss it. I’ve not talked about it enough and as a consequence am nowhere near at peace with it as perhaps I thought I was.

I’m not on the bus anymore, I’ve elected to continue on a bench near work. I often sit on this bench at break times. It’s not always peaceful as it’s near a car park and I’m invariably hassled for directions and I’m rubbish at doing that. Can’t play the ‘new’ card any longer. I wonder what the house will be like when I return this evening. We went to bed in silence. I hate that because I’m always up early and can never make proper amends in situations as I’m the only one up and about. Quite the opposite. I feel I need to creep about (and I must be an expert in creeping about right?). That usually means I’m on a downer for the rest of the day and sometimes beyond. So coupled with my CD hangover these are not the ingredients for a pleasant day. It’ll be a numb one. I’m struggling to find the motivation to return from my break. Full of doubts and self-hatred. I think returning to a room full of people I only moderately get on with is not the best idea but it sadly as inevitable as the tides.

 

CD Dreams

Years ago, I read a very interesting William Burroughs book in which he recounted his dreams. In this book, ‘My Education: A Book of Dreams’ he described in murky detail his brain’s night time ramblings, neuroses, fears and a host of other odd situations. I thought I’d love to do that too! Around this time I was in my cannabis phase and my mind was ablaze with freaky and far out thoughts and my dreams were no exception. I endeavoured to make sure there was paper and a pen by my bedside so that as I awoke I could immediately scribble down whatever I could remember. I had this vain hope I’d have a bestseller on my hands. After a couple of weeks though it became clear that perhaps people shouldn’t be allowed to see what I’d dreamt about.

You may have guessed, the title of this blog may have given it away.

In amongst the usual dreams of teeth loss and journeys I embarked upon that never ended there were dreams that contained varying hints of transvestism. The gyst of one of the ones I wrote down was this: a new law had been passed at school. Everyone (including boys) had to wear skirts. I acquiesced to this with a certain amount of reluctance but as it was passed down from on high I had to.

Ah, cd dreams. I’m assuming every other cross-dresser has them. I know I do and sometimes it’s the trigger for another ‘session’. In fact I had one the other night. In this one, a band I was in was having photos taken for the front cover of our album. The band in question was a sort of hybrid of various bands I’ve been in over the years. A typical dream distortion. I ended up in a short but elegantly smart black dress and luscious long red hair for no discernable reason – and nobody minded. This is not so typical of my cd dreams. The ones I half remember from recent years do involve me really going for it in public and social situations and reactions are not too positive. I should point out too that for me it’s like a variation on the ‘suddenly naked’ dream. You know except that instead of being suddenly naked I’m suddenly en femme. There was a more subtle one the following night when I removed my socks in the dream and my toe nails were still painted (as they are right now). A dark blue colour, one of only 2 shades of polish I have. My Mum enquired after them but I claimed it was a remedy for athlete’s foot I was trying out. That was something I subconsciously borrowed from a film called ‘Just Like a Woman’. If you haven’t seen it it’s worth a look. One of the few films I’ve seen where the transvestite main character is portrayed sympathetically and isn’t played solely for laughs.

I do like my cd dreams on the whole, especially these days where I have began to gain a little acceptance and try to enjoy it without any of the attendant guilt or anxiety. I’d really like to hear examples of other people’s if they’d be willing to share!

One last thing, nothing to do with dreams at all. The onset of Easter has reminded me of something that may interest you. When I was younger I found an intriguing use for discarded Easter Egg packaging. I discovered it was possible to create fake boobs out of the clear plastic part that protected the egg. I think it was Cadbury in particular that had the best shape. It was already split in two for you so little or no trimming was needed. I often wonder if I was alone in this…

 

Clothes maketh the (wo)man…

I was thinking about clothes the other day, well, I often do. In particular the acquisition of women’s clothes when you’re not a woman.

I managed to get by for years on cast off clothes – the idea of going into a shop and actually taking them up to the counter horrified me. As a consequence I vividly remember the first item I bought in a shop for myself. It was a pencil grey wraparound mini skirt from H&M in Parkhead. £2 in the sale and it actually fitted me. I could never get a top to match so I didn’t end up keeping it and I don’t think there’s any photos of me wearing it. My wife periodically clears out her wardrobe and this was my main source of attire. I had a special fondness for one of the skirts I inherited this way as it was the one she was wearing when I met her. For a while this was one of my favourites. I suppose there is an added frisson with the second hand clothes because I know that an actual woman has worn them. It’s like they’ve been validated.

I tended to stick to the internet as it was a little bit more anonymous. The price paid for anonymity however was the occasional piece of ill-fitting clothing or dissatisfaction that it just didn’t look that good on. But the latter complaint can apply to shop bought clothes as well of course.

This ensemble looks fine but if you were to ask me to turn round you’d see that the zip on the skirt doesn’t go all the way up.

And sizing can be problematic as well, this dress here looks nice in the pic, but if I stood up you’d see how ridiculously short it is on me…

Before Christmas I had a rare solitary jaunt around the West End of Glasgow and came home with a grey dress I cannot categorise or adequately describe. I can’t get it to work with anything but I can’t seem to rid myself of it. Here it is, on the hanger…

One of my other early purchases and one that I still have and love is a pleated tartan micro skirt. It’s scandalously short and I love it! It was well worth the terror in TK Maxx  (£14.99 as I recall and it’s longevity is assured if I maintain a relatively svelte appearance). Here it is on the hanger…

and here it is in it’s prime (with added hooker boots)…

I did eventually grow braver each time, partly because I tend to stick to the same outlets; George @ Asda and Primark. Hopefully the turnover of staff in such places preserves what remains of my embarrassment. It was in Asda that I discovered heels that fit me. In man shoes I tend to be around 10 – 10 1/2 but I can get away with a 9 in woman’s shoes from George for some reason. I can understand women’s love for shoes. Presently I have 6 pairs (all black); mid heels, 5 1/2 inch heels, ankle boots, court shoes, knee high boots and a pair of ballet pumps.

That seems like a lot for someone who only occasionally wears them but I do like to have a wide choice. Obviously I’m mainly housebound so theoretically these shoes will last me for years and the wear on them will be quite negligible. The mid heels are the ones I usually plump for as they are rather comfortable. They’re not too high and I find I can wear them for hours.

Shoes were something I didn’t get until later on. As I recall I inherited a pair of what I can only term ‘hooker boots’ from my, at the time, fiancee. Her mother had got her a pair of black pvc knee highs with a block heel for a present one Christmas and she never really wore them. They intrigued me greatly and it was only a matter of time before I tried slipping my feet into them and zipping them up. By rights they shouldn’t have fitted me but for some reason they did. I would still have them now but wear and tear prevented this. The area around the zips developed a split that soon spread and eventually ruined them.

I loved my shiny black hooker boots.

Back to clothes…I mainly find myself in a skirt and top combination though I seem to have several dresses. Because of my manly shape I am a little limited in the ones I can get away with. A skater dress seems to be one of the more ideal types I can wear as it creates an illusion of a waist. That’s why I prefer skirt and top as certain skirts create that illusion too. I always intend to scale down my dresses but it’s so hard as some of them are really nice. Also if you were to peak inside my wardrobe you’d see that they were slowly taking over…

Anna’s taking up a good third of the cupboard these days (and that doesn’t include the ‘drawer’) but hopefully if you were to take my drawers full of T-shirts into consideration it wouldn’t look so bad!

A wig and a song!

I’ve always loved the written word, and it’s only music I love more. That I have more or less mastered to the best of my ability. Words and their usage is still a developing area. They can create whole words from nothing – now that’s immensely powerful. My awe of them has led me to aspire to master them. That’s one of the reasons I decided to start a blog, outwith songs I always had some difficulty deciding what to actually write about. It became clear that I should write about what I know, which seems a partial contradiction as I don’t really know why I crossdress. There was a smal shard of of hope though that through writing it all down I could pick through it and examine the fragments.

The latest news in Anna’s world is the arrival of 2 new wigs. Since the great purge of 2010 I have been (mostly in vain) trying to find a suitable replacement red wig. This attempt I’ll admit was not an ecstatic success but the closest I’m probably going to get, hence why I greedily ordered 2 different types. A nice shoulder length strawberry blonde (read: ginger) one that brings back fond memories of a girl I used to sit next to in 3rd year maths. Only years later did I discover that she felt the same about me. To be wistful and harbour little regrets like this is inappropriate but I’m only human after all.

The other wig is a longer red one but the tone is more…crimson for want of a better description. It looks a bit more fake than the ginger one and kind of makes me look more than a little bit like a Pussycat Doll. The longest serving one, I cannot recall her name at the moment. But it sits nice and cascades beautifully over the sides of my face, past my shoulders creeping a little down my back.

I’ve only had a brief try out session with them as I inevitably reached for my brown one, that’s probably the one that’s the most ‘me’. Not a lot of opportunities just now as I am trying my best to be reasonable. There have been ill-feelings towards my habit of late in the house, partly due to the fact that I owned up to my wife about the breast forms I purchased. She can’t understand and I can empathise with that. Another thing was a song I wrote a few weeks ago that I called ‘All dressed up and nowhere to go’. I hadn’t intended to write a song celebrating the joys of transvestism – it just turned out that way. I was really pleased with it but upon hearing the finished article, on track 8 of my new album, she flipped! Understandably so, it is ever so easy to be self-absorbed in both my music and my crossdressing. I hastily rewrote it and called it ‘The Elephant’ but after a few days it was no longer hot topic so I shrugged and decided I’d get away with it. Not many people would probably hear it I thought – I’m not especially well known. Some of the people who know would get it, laugh perhaps, then move on. Other people who don’t know may not necessarily always pay attention to lyrics and if they do hopefully it’s tongue-in-cheek enough to not invite serious suspicion.

Here is the song in question, followed by a transcription of the lyrics…and pictures of me with short black hair;

 

 

‘ALL DRESSED UP AND NOWHERE TO GO’

I found a window in my Diary

time to myself is a finite luxury

shaved my legs and shaved my face

so bring on the satin – bring on the lace uh huh huh

I’ll draw the curtains and the blinds real tight

I don’t want anyone to see me tonight

you ask me why my heels are high

and why I can’t just be a guy?

Do my eyeliner with particular care

I’m getting better – now what should I wear?

the transformation is almost complete

I bet you didn’t think I could look this sweet uh huh huh!

Another choice now – redhead or brunette?

I’m going to be the hottest girl you never met

I’m very greatful and feel very blessed

to get to lounge around in my favourite dress

 

Boobies Update

I am very happy to report that I needn’t have worried about my imminent package – it arrived safely the same day I wrote my previous post. I was surprised about how heavy they were and how well they moved and felt. But by far the most amazing thing about them is that they aren’t exactly what I ordered. I had only ordered standard breast forms with a concave back. These bad boys came with detachable straps so that I can wear them sans bra.

It’s fair to say that I have been grinning ever since and cannot wait to wear them in context. I was only able to steal a small amount of time in the bathroom to try them out. I wore a blue sheer top to test them for under clothing shape, buoyancy and touchy feely. They passed with flying colours and I’m a little ashamed to admit I felt a powerful erotic charge from them. Even thinking about them just now makes me giddy with excitement. I read that they warm to your body temperature once you’ve had them on for a while. They are going to be so distracting, I won’t be able to stop touching them or lightly bouncing up and down!

I’m as giddy as a schoolgirl x

Betty & Boobies

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.