Was my last post really in March? I apologize for not posting sooner!
Over the past few days, I've been trying something new. Several months ago, while recounting my passion for crossdressing to myself, I realized that crossdressing is a reward to me, but without any sort of effort. I've simply done it whenever opportunity and desire intersect. This, of course, makes the act of crossdressing, in my mind, a right, rather than a privilege.
The concept to correct this mindset was simple -- I would deny myself any crossdressing time if I didn't complete a certain list of tasks. It seems like a great plan, right? It was a great plan, but I ended up mentally skipping over the tasks and crossdressing whenever I chose, as always. I have lost count of how many times I swore to myself I would carry this out, only to regress the very same day or soon after. That is, until this week.
If you've read this blog for any amount of time, you understand that I have a very intimate and personal relationship with sheer hosiery, pantyhose specifically. I love pantyhose. No, seriously. I especially love wearing pantyhose to sleep. Something about it makes me sleep better, wake up rested and feel happier overall. I realize that a man wearing pantyhose (particularly to sleep in) is very unusual, but I've been wearing them since I was a child, and I see nothing strange or wrong with it. I love them, am comfortable in them and really like the way they make my legs look.
I've been on a streak of wearing pantyhose to bed every night for the past week. It started Tuesday. Usually, once or twice a week, I'll slip into my favorite pair of Hanes Silk Reflections "silky sheer" just before bed. For some reason, Tuesday was different. On Tuesday, after hitting up the local watering hole for some tacos, I returned home. My lovely fiancee (whom I call "Larissa" - not her real name) was at a concert 2 hours away and I had the entire house to myself, so I seized the opportunity to slip on a pair of panties and my absolute favorite sleepwear (yes, pantyhose!). When I woke up on Wednesday, I felt euphoric to still be wearing my nylons. The euphoria stayed with me all day Wednesday, even at my job, which usually puts me in a foul mood to one degree or another. I attributed my positive mood on Wednesday to sleeping in pantyhose, and decided to do it again. To my delight, I woke up in a great mood again on Thursday, so I did it again and had the same awesome mood when I woke in my nylons on Friday. Now, whether or not my mood was a product of my choice of sleepwear is largely irrelevant. I slept in pantyhose and woke up feeling great 3 days in a row, causing my mind to assume a connection.
Wow! I'm being a bit verbose today, aren't I? Sorry about that, but I'm excited to share.
So where was I? Oh yes, at work on Friday...
One of the perks of my job is that there tend to be long periods of "downtime", during which I can basically do whatever I like. Often, during these slow periods, I sit in my car and journal. On Thursday, I was doing just that, putting pen to paper, writing out my stream of consciousness. I recounted how much I had enjoyed sleeping in my silky hosiery, and how I would wear them 24/7 if I could get away with it. At this point I realized that wearing pantyhose has become an addiction, albeit a harmless one. I decided at that moment to turn that addiction into a motivating force.
As I mentioned above, I've committed many times to deny myself the pleasure of crossdressing unless I "kicked ass" on my to-do list, and just as many times I've failed spectacularly to do so. This time would be different, I thought. This time I would follow through. Then it happened...
I wrote in my journal a list of 5 tasks I would complete before going to bed on Friday. Nothing too difficult, but 5 tasks that would take real focused effort to complete in the 3 hours between work and sleep. I also wrote that my reward for completing these 5 tasks would be the privilege of wearing panties and pantyhose for the rest of the night, and the penalty for falling short, even a tiny bit, would be to spend the rest of the night in my boring "male" clothes. I let myself get very amped up about the tasks, the reward and the cost of failure. Then I went home and became a man possessed. I spent 2.5 of my 3 hours hustling around the house, ticking off my tasks one by one, until they were all finished. The prospect of putting on my favorite legwear drove me to finish every single task, and the reward was very sweet, to say the least. I slept like a baby and woke up in a tremendous mood yet again.
Buoyed by my productivity on Friday, I journaled again while at work on Saturday. Another 5 tasks, and again the promise of spending the rest of the night in silky nylon bliss if I complete them all. This time, however, I added an extra bonus. If I completed all my tasks each day for 3 days straight, I would allow myself to indulge in a "full-on femme day" on Monday (today, woohoo!). Long story short, I destroyed tasks Saturday and Sunday, slept in pantyhose both nights and am, at this very moment, minutes away from bringing Marika fully out of her cage for the entire day.
I crushed my tasks, now I'm rewarding myself. Time to write down my tasks for today...
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