This Nylon Life - Conclusion

Supreme Victory!

I just wanted to post a quick update on the Holiday Pantyhose Challenge.

Quite simply, the challenge is complete and I CRUSHED it!

I wore pantyhose (or tights) for 12 consecutive hours for 60 days straight. I didn't miss a day, didn't cheat, and the best part is that I enjoyed every minute of it.

So the conclusion I have made from this experiment is that I cannot possibly get tired of wearing nylons, even when I am required to do so.

In fact, my love for the heavenly caress of pantyhose / tights has only grown over the past 2 months. I want to wear them more often. I'm wearing them now!

Now, if I can only apply this passion for hosiery to other areas of my life...

That is a topic for another post.

Thanks for reading!

This Nylon Life: Update

What's This?

Am I really updating my blog in less than 6 months?

Why, yes! Yes, I am!

An Update

In my last post, I explained the Holiday Pantyhose Challenge that I've undertaken. That was day 26.

Today is day 58, and I'm happy to report that the challenge continues, and that I've worn pantyhose (or tights) for at least 12 consecutive hours for 58 days straight, including today.

To the concept of ever getting tired of wearing nylons, I have concluded that it is quite impossible for me to do so. I simply don't tire of it. I am just as exhilarated to slip on my pantyhose each morning today as I was 58 days ago, and for many decades prior to that.

In Other News

With the Holiday Pantyhose Challenge winding down, I think I may take a few days to wear regular guy clothes. It's not that I'm tired of wearing pantyhose, but I'm tired of being required to wear them.

Additionally, there have been some unfortunate circumstances at home, which may soon result in me being single after nearly 15 years. This isn't an outcome I look forward to, but one that I must be prepared for.

In the regrettable even that I find myself single in the new year, my public crossdressing will very likely increase significantly. The only reason it hasn't already is an agreement I made with my fiancee a couple years ago. Basically, I agreed not to wear anything overtly feminine within the community in which we live, so nobody she knows will see and associate her with my "quirk." The relationship being dissolved, or at least redefined, that agreement will be void, and I will be at liberty to dress any way I like, anywhere I like and at any time I see fit.

I'll probably lean on a friend of mine to help me ease into places where nobody knows about my peculiar fashion sense, and expand from there. I'll wear my dresses and nylons out in public, adding makeup, jewelry and such as I feel appropriate, until I feel that I can truly be myself.

It all sounds very nice, but at the cost of a relationship I have truly enjoyed for most of the time it has existed.

I supposed all things change and all things end, but I was really hoping it wouldn't end this way.

This Nylon Life

I suck at updating this blog!

Yes, I realize I have once again neglected to update the blog for months. I have no excuse. I hope any readers I have left won't be too upset.

What's with that title?

I may have mentioned in a previous post that my crossdressing began with trying on mom's nylons, and that pantyhose have been the one constant of this journey.

Well, I got to wondering if I could ever possibly get sick of wearing pantyhose. The very concept sounds ridiculous to me, but still, it's a question worth asking, and an answer worth investigating.

In late September, I decided to conduct a very simple scientific experiment. I would force myself to wear pantyhose, every day, for 12 consecutive hours, for 30 days. If I am capable of getting sick of wearing the heavenly nylon, surely this would demonstrate that. There are days when I don't care to wear anything feminine. Sometimes these "moods" could last a week or more, during which I would carry on in only male clothes, even at work. How would I react if I required myself to wear pantyhose even on those days? An interesting experiment...

About two weeks into the experiment, I hadn't missed a day. Then it happened...

I developed a medical issue, which made it rather painful to wear anything tight in my groin area. It was much too uncomfortable to wear pantyhose, even sheer to waist, for several hours while at work. Hence, the experiment had to be ended prematurely.

In mid-October, my medical issue was behind me, and I decided to restart the experiment, but this time wearing pantyhose every day for 60 days instead of 30. Why double the time? Because I love wearing pantyhose, of course!

I'd just like to see if I'll get tired of wearing them, every single day, for 12 (or more) hours per day.

Today is day 26, and I'm nowhere near tired of wearing pantyhose every day. Quite the contrary! On the days when I wake up and don't want to wear nylons, I put them on anyway, and without exception, by the middle of the day, I'm very happy that I did.

So that's what's up with the title. Until New Year's Eve, I'm living a nylon life.

OMG

I'm so sorry!

I haven't updated this blog since October, for which I prostrate myself before you, dear reader, and apologize profusely. I am deeply, sincerely sorry to have neglected you. Please forgive me.

The DOT Thing

The DOT re-physical went very well! Better than I could have expected, if I'm 100% honest. I was convinced that I would pass the exam, and be issued a 3-month or 1-year certificate, as I'm diabetic (diabetics can only get 1-year certificates, maximum), and they'd most likely pick up on that. Turns out I have my diabetes under control, and they didn't detect it, so I earned myself another 2-year certificate!

To the other medical outfit I went to for my previous physical, SUCK IT, and SWALLOW.

I returned to my normal job the very next day, and have been back ever since.

I love a happy ending!

Let's Catch Up!

Since October, things have settled back into their old routines. Go to work, come home, rinse and repeat.

Ah, but sometimes change is unavoidable. An excellent example of that is my work attire.

Before you lose your shit, I can assure you that my choice of outfits at work has not been butched up in the least. In fact, I've gone in the opposite direction.

At some point, wearing a skirt and nylons at work became rather ordinary. I decided to take it up a notch. I started wearing dresses in place of skirts. This was very liberating, but still not enough.

Now, I wear a dress most days, along with pantyhose or colored tights (when it's cold), along with a bra and breast forms (I hesitate to call them that, as they're basically just pads I stick in my bra, but I guess a rose by any other name...).

It's possible that the novelty of the bra and "titties" will wear off at some point, and I'll be tempted to wear makeup, feminine jewelry or even a wig. As amazing as that would be, I'm a truck driver, and such things really aren't practical in my line of work, just as wearing heels at work isn't practical (I did for a day, and it was severely awkward). So, for now, I've reached a plateau with the on-the-job crossdressing. I'm OK with it. For now.

I've also been venturing out into the non-job world in my femme finery more and more, and each bold step emboldens me even more.

I still get looks. I'll always get looks. I'm OK with that, too. It isn't often you see a man sporting a LulaRoe dress, bright blue tights and large-ish boobs in public. I get it. As long as it's just looks, I'm not bothered or intimidated.

What if it progresses beyond looks? We'll jump off that bridge when we get to it.

Honestly, I'm not afraid to stand up for myself. I'm not a tough guy, but I'm also not a wimp or a pushover. If things need to get physical, I'll (give and) take my licks like a man, in a gorgeous dress.

The Shopping Thing

I've gone a little nuts buying dresses lately. In the past week, I've acquired 12 new dresses, 9 of which I can wear at work (2 are halter dresses and one is just too short). Added to my LulaRoe collection, that makes around 20 dresses. I barely own 20 t-shirts, so I think I'm done shopping for now.

Except for hosiery...

Ah geez, I can't pass up a good deal on pantyhose! Two days ago, I took a detour after work and picked up 21 pair of pantyhose for $10, more than replenishing my hosiery supply for a good long while. They're all basic, "day sheer" nylons, and will probably be torn to shreds by my job, but c'mon...21 pair of pantyhose! I'm wearing one of them as I type this. I'm such a sucker for nylons...

That Sums It Up

That's all I really have for now. I hope I've entertained you with my rantings, and I'll try to be more attentive to this blog in the future. I promise.

Once More Unto the Breach

Today's the day...

As I mentioned in my last post, I've been medically disqualified from doing my job since early last month. Under the circumstances, I think I've managed to hold it together pretty well.

After almost 2 months, I have a shot at redemption. I have another DOT physical scheduled for today, in just over 2 hours. Honestly, I'm nervous.

This time, I believe I have my blood pressure under control.

There's a hitch

You see, I'm diabetic. Have been for years.

Diabetes is a condition which complicates professional driving. The US Department of Transportation (DOT) has decreed that diabetic truck drivers must keep their condition under tight control or lose their medical certification.

I've wavered between decent and lousy control of my diabetes over the years.

I've managed to avoid decertification by being a sneaky SOB.

I've lied to the DOT examiners for years. I've told them I'm not diabetic.

Of course, they have ways to determine whether or not that's true.

Part of the DOT physical involves collecting a urine sample, and testing it for the presence of protein and sugar, among other things. If protein or sugar are present in the urine, it indicates elevated blood glucose, which triggers a blood glucose test. If the reading is out of the normal range, BOOM! No certificate for you.

Over the years, I've devised a method to ensure that my urine is free of protein and sugar. I combine a strict 800-calorie diet, low in carbs and sugar, for a week before the exam, with drinking an insane amount of water the day of the exam, to dilute my urine.

So far, it has worked like a charm.

So why am I nervous?

I've been through a lot over the past several weeks. It's been a roller coaster, and not the fun Disneyland type. More like a slow, hellish jaunt through emotional highs and lows, with no end in sight.

To say the least, it has made me gunshy.

Plus, medical environments always put me on edge. Especially when I know I'm lying to the doctors and nurses, and could be found out at any moment.

That's the kicker -- stress causes elevated blood pressure, as does high blood glucose.

I'm still in an uphill battle. Still unsure. Still scared that I'll fail, as I did last month.

There is so much at stake today.

I can't say that failure today would equate to catastrophe. I've been away from my job for almost 2 months, and have managed to keep my head above water. Driving for Uber / Lyft / Instacart and working in the company warehouse has kept the bills paid.

I've stuck to my diet for the past week (with no small quantity of help and encouragement from my lovely fiancee), and I'm drinking lots of water.

I'm ready.

Ready for my date with destiny.

A Quick Update

Wow. It's been almost a year since I updated this blog!

How it started:

In my last post, I detailed my brave trip to the clinic, wearing a skirt and tights. Everything went very well, and I was emboldened.

Virtually every day since, I've worn a skirt and some sort of feminine hosiery at work, all day. There have been no negative repurcussions, so I'm pretty happy with that decision.

How it's going:

3 weeks ago, I had to undergo my yearly torture, the DOT physical exam.

To put it bluntly, I failed, due to extremely high blood pressure. For those who can interpret the numbers, my blood pressure was 220 / 88.

This is bad. VERY bad.

The practical upshot is that I'm unable to work as a truck driver until I get 2 different doctors to sign off that I have my blood pressure under control.

Like I said, it's VERY bad.

Fortunately, I'm very resourceful.

I signed up as an Instacart shopper, so I could shop and deliver groceries to people willing to pay for such a service.

However, Instacart shopping doesn't come anyhere near making up for the earnings I'm losing from my job. It's not even close.

So I got back into Uber / Lyft driving.

The combination comes pretty close to earning the same kind of money I'm used to earning at my job.

Yeah, and?

So, I'm driving my new 2019 Nissan Murano for Instacart, Uber and Lyft. That's the hustle I'm committed to, to pay the bills.

While I'm doing so, I'm wearing my skirts and nylons.

Walking through grocery stores in a skirt and nylons.

Walking through parking lots in a skirt and nylons.

Walking into restaurants to pick up food orders, in a skirt and nylons.

The only comment I've received so far was from a lady in a grocery store, who asked if I was wearing Dansko clogs (which I was - black patent leather, and do every day). We had a brief but enjoyable conversation on Danskos, how comfortable they are, etc.

Once again, I was emboldened.

Where it's going:

Being emboldened again, my mind is swimming with the possibilities of what may come.

As I've mentioned before, my fiancee is dead set against me wearing skirts or dresses (or nylons or heels) in public, short of going to a gay club or other such "safe space" (defined as a place where nobody she knows will ever see me).

My ideal future involves doing just that. Wearing what I want, when I want, regardless of who might see or what they'll think of it.

Dare to dream...

Today Was The Day

As is well documented on this blog, I've been wearing skirts at work since September. To be 100% truthful, I've been wearing skirts most of the time on the days I choose to wear one. That is, I would take care to conceal my skirt in front of certain co-workers -- people who have been working for this company for as long as I have (or longer), and whose opinions ostensibly matter to me slightly more than the average Joe (which is to say, their opinions matter to me very, very slightly, as the average Joe's opinion means nothing to me).

Whew! That was verbose!

Anyway...

Today, our operations manager, Amanda, called me en route to deliver my "backhaul" (the load I bring back up from Illinois before finishing my day). Amanda told me to bring my backhaul to the yard, then to come see her.

A little backstory seems appropriate here...

At my last job, they had a ridiculous method of dispatch -- you had to call a phone number after a certain hour and listen to a recorded message, telling you what your work assignment would be for the next day. When they intended to terminate a driver, the message would direct him to report to the warehouse at 8:00 the next morning. That's the last dispatch recording I ever listened to at that company, back in November of 2005.

Back to the story...

From what I'm told, federal law requires a certain percentage of a trucking company's drivers to be randomly drug tested every month. Furthermore, the company is legally prohibited from telling the driver that they're being drug tested until the moment they hand the driver the form and give him/her exactly 1 hour to get to the clinic and fill the cup.

When Amanda wouldn't tell me why she wanted me to come see her, I thought back immediately to my previous job, and my mind started racing. What had I done? Who had I pissed off?

Fast forward to the yard...

Thinking maybe someone had mentioned my skirts to management, I decided to "pants up" before walking into the building to see Amanda.

After learning why she wanted to see me, I became angry with myself. Why am I putting on pants? What's wrong with wearing a skirt? Why am I hiding who I am from these people?

I went back to my truck, took my pants off (what a relief!) and decided that TODAY is the day I stop caring about what any of my co-workers think. TODAY is the day I step boldly into the world, skirt, tights and all, regardless of who is present.

Those guys whose opinions mattered to me ever so slightly? As of TODAY, those opinions are wholly and permanently invalid to me.

I will never again rush to conceal my skirt, and I don't give a damn who notices or what they think.

I'm damned sick and tired of hiding my authentic self to protect the delicate sensibilities of people who, when all is said and done, don't matter to me.

To hammer the point home, I wore my skirt to the clinic for my drug test, knowing there would likely be other drivers from my company there. Not only were there co-workers at the clinic, there were 4 of them in the waiting room, with whom I enjoyed some very pleasant conversation, none of which was about my attire. Oh, I caught one of the guys checking out my legs, but that's to be expected.

It was a good day. Tomorrow will be even better.

I'm FREE.