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.

Winter Tights

Following up on my "skirts and nylons at work" activities...

Last weekend, I decided that, living in Wisconsin, in the winter, walking around in normal pantyhose with a skirt would be somewhat ill-advised. So I took to Amazon in search of some thicker hosiery to wear with my skirts at work. In order to keep attention off my attire (until I'm really and fully "out" at work), I needed to find tights in skintone shades.

I found 2 different brands, and ordered 2 pair of each

Silky Toes Microfiber Tights

Manzi 70 Den Control Top Tights

One of the packages arrived yesterday, so I naturally tore it open and tried on the tights (the Sikly Toes microfiber tights), and all I have to say is...

Hallelujah!

They're incredibly soft, stretchy and oh so comfortable! I really can't say enough positive things about them.

I haven't tried the Manzi tights yet, but they'll be delivered tomorrow, so I'll definitely be trying them on. I don't expect them to be better than the microfiber tights, being plain opaque tights, but I'm keeping an open mind.

Random Thoughts

I'm writing this post on my phone. Please forgive me if it looks like dog shit.

First, I'd like to share a photo with you...

Yes, those are my legs, my polished toenails, my laddered hosiery, my favorite heels and my pretty little anklet. If you've followed this blog for awhile, you've seen these things before. What you haven't seen is this funky dress! I'm in love with this dress, and I'm trying to carve out some time to take some full-height photos of myself while wearing it (with makeup, jewelry, etc). Stay tuned for those photos...

I've been dealing with some severe depression over the past couple weeks. I won't go into detail, but to say that I'm extremely displeased with where I am financially, at this point I'm my life. The method I've used to lessen the impact of this depression? Crossdressing, of course! I've worn skirts at work 4 out of 5 days this week, even though the temperatures have been quite cold. I love wearing skirts and (especially) nylons almost as much as I love boldly asserting my gender nonconformity in public, so doing this elevates me emotionally, cancelling out thoughts and feelings of hopelessness and dread.

Why do I so enjoy displaying my gender bending fashion sense to the world? The answer is quite simple -- men should have the same fashion freedoms that women enjoy. Women are free to wear pants and present themselves in masculine attire and appearance, so why shouldn't men be free to wear skirts, dresses, nylons and all manner of pretty, feminine things? I know some macho dudes will argue that dressing this way detracts from a man's "manliness," or somehow makes him less of a man (or the dreaded GAY).

Firstly, there is absolutely nothing shameful about being gay. Secondly, what a man wears is simply that -- what he wears. It isn't an indication of his sexuality any more than a 3-piece suit is (how many gay men wear suits?). It is simply what that particular individual likes to wear. To shame him for the way he presents himself to the world is wildly hypocritical. Nobody would shame a woman for wearing jeans and cowboy boots, would they? Of course not.

I love wearing skirts in public because it proclaims to the world that I like wearing skirts, and I don't give a rip what anyone thinks about it. I earned the money that paid for the skirt, the pantyhose, the makeup, etc. I enjoy presenting myself in a quasi-feminine manner. It's really nobody's business. Also, I find skirts to be exceedingly more comfortable than pants, no matter the day. The fact that I love wearing pantyhose, tights, etc like I love breathing also helps. Hey, I have nice legs. Why not show them off?

I believe that, if all the men who feel as I do would gather up the nerve to just boldly go out into the world in whatever manner of presentation they like, as often as they wish it, the stigma attached to crossdressing would soon be a thing of the past. That's my goal. I would like nothing more than to see men wearing skirts and dresses in public every day, without fanfare and without society's ridiculous judgment. Just do you, brothers.

Before I end this post, here's a quick shot of me in my work attire today...

Nothing over the top (except my untucked shirt...doh!). Just a regular guy who happens to be rocking a skirt.

Kisses,

Janey

Nine Months in the Making

So, I haven't posted anything on this blog in 9 months. My apologies. It's been a wierd and trying year. I'll try to do better going forward.

So what's new?

I'm not even sure where to begin!

First and foremost, I've decided to embrace crossdressing on an entirely new level. Not only do I wear feminine things around the house, but now I wear skirts and nylons at work, too! At first, it was very hush-hush. I'd have pants in the truck with me (I'm a short-haul truck driver), in case any of my fellows (employees of my company) were around. A quick changeroo would keep my secret from the other drivers and support personnel. Out and about in public, I would boldly go about my day in my skirt, giving exactly zero thought to what anyone around me noticed or thought of what they thought they noticed. This worked out fairly well for a time, but it wasn't enough.

Since roughly the start of September, having decided that I have to be who I am, regardless of people's reactions, I have been wearing my skirts (and hosiery) openly, even at work, even in the presence of my coworkers. Want to know a secret? Very few people notice, and of those, nobody has said a word about it. I've caught some questioning glances and have been mistaken for wearing shorts more than once, but not a single soul has commented or asked about the skirts, much to my disappointment. I have responses thought out and ready to fire off to anyone who asks -- "Yeah, it's a skirt. Men can wear skirts. It's comfortable, so why not?" Variations on that theme are what I believe will suffice.

Let's not be naive. I know that people will talk. I know they'll whisper and snigger, that they'll make jokes and little innuendos about me, sometimes to my face. I don't care in the least. In the end, I am who I am, I do what I do, and their approval is neither requested nor required.

It's a challenge to follow through with this decision, especially when it comes time to walk into the driver room, under the eyes of anyone who may be there, but I have done it many times now, and I am emboldened by the non-reactions I've experienced. Once, our operations manager (female) walked up behind me, unbeknownst to me, wished me (and another driver who was there) a good weekend, then strode off into the inner workings of the office complex. I was clearly wearing a skirt (a pretty blue and black LulaRoe Cassie), but she didn't seem to notice. If she did notice, she played it off perfectly.

In other news...

I had a couple outings (and when I say "I", I mean Janey) -- one in August and the other in November, which went VERY well -- far better than that train wreck in March. I learned my lesson. Janey needs to stick to Janey-safe places.

I even posed for a few photos. Wanna see?

These are from the August outing. Yes, I know they look awful. That wig was a huge mistake, and will never be seen atop my head again!

I'm much more fond of these photos, partly because the wig is so much better, but also because I wasn't showing off my stocking tops like a cheap trollop...LOL

Now you're in the know

Yeah, that's basically all I have to offer today. I'll try very hard to update this blog more often. If any of you are still reading it, thank you so much!!

Kisses,

Janey

Ugliness and Beauty

A few nights ago, Gail and I attended a CD meetup in Green Bay. It was wonderful, CD's and trans women of very stripe, just enjoying each other's company and visiting. No judgment. No strife. It was peaceful. Serene. Full of beauty and grace.

After the event, as we headed the 40-odd miles back home, we decided that we weren't quite ready for the night to be over. We discussed options and settled on the place where Gail works, a bar in a bowling alley.

While at the meetup, I had my fill of wearing a bra, wig and heels, so I shed all of them as soon as we left. At this point, I still have a full face of makeup on, a ballcap and ballet flats, along with my black lace dress and metallic silver tights.

Upon arriving at the bowling alley, I grabbed a makeup remover wipe from my makeup case and we headed in. I walked into the bar and headed straight to the men's room. Once inside, I took off my cap and glasses, and proceeded to wipe off as much of my makeup as I could. Just then, I heard the door to the bathroom open and a woman's voice saying (shrieking, really), "Oh my God what is that?"

Things deteriorated from there. I was already irritated at the shrieking woman who dared to poke her drunken head into the men's bathroom (if a man had done the same to the women's bathroom, he'd likely be beaten and turned over to the police, but I digress...), so when I left the bathroom to return to Gail, the continued calls of "What is that thing?" put me positively on edge. I paused in front of a woman, presumably the one who had been in the men's room doorway moments before, looked her straight in the eye and simply said, "Yes?"

Of course, the 5-6 drunken idiots in the group said nothing at this point, so I turned and headed toward the end of the bar where I thought Gail would be. Gail wasn't there. She was in the ladies' room, as it turned out. I wasted no time walking out of the bar and back to the safety of my car. I texted Gail to let her know where I was and did my best to calm down.

People can be ugly and judgmental. Most people keep their hateful comments to themselves, but bolstered by alcohol and like-minded idiots, the mob mentality takes root and things spiral out of control. I knew things would get ugly and/or physical if I had stayed, so I'm glad I left when I did. I don't know how many boozed-up bigots it would have taken to kick my ass, but I know how many would be trying, and that's some helpful information to have on hand...

I'm not an overly emotional person under most circumstances. I am not blessed with an abundance of feelings. Once my anger subsided, all I really felt was pity. Statistically, every member of that drunken mob knows at least one crossdresser, whether they know it or not. Given the attitudes I experienced that night, I can understand why the crossdressers they know would rather be skinned alive than admit that they crossdress.

I've been fortunate. Everyone I've told about my crossdressing has been supportive, to one degree or another. I genuinely feel for those poor souls who live in the closet due to the primitive attitudes and boorish behaviors of their friends and family. I also feel for the bigots themselves. Their hearts are cold and dead. They take joy in ridiculing those of us who are different and choose not to hide it. They are small, insecure and ugly.

The Rise of Skirt-Walker

History Repeats!

I'm a big Star Wars fan. I've made it a point to see every new Star Wars movie on the big screen, even though I thought The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi were garbage (I'm a Star Wars purist. Fight me!). As most of you already know, the 9th Star Wars Episode, The Rise of Skywalker, opened a couple weeks ago. Due to my work schedule and social commitments, I wasn't able to see it until today.

You may recall about 2.5 years ago that I took my first bold step into the world of the "normals" by attending a screening of Avengers Infinity War wearing a blue skater skirt, glossy black hose and ballet flats. It was both nerve-wracking and exhilarating at the same time.

Well, today I took that leap again. This time it was during the day, when there were very few people at the cinema or indeed in the auditorium itself (I think there were 5 of us in all), but it was still hugely liberating.

For today's foray, I wore a blue LulaRoe "Cassie" pencil skirt with geometric patterns on it, along with a pair of my beloved Hanes Perfect Nudes pantyhose in the "transparent" shade, a simple silver anklet and my trusty black ballet flats. There was also a pink lace thong involved, but this isn't the sort of blog where we discuss things like that in any sort of detail. The top half of the outfit was strictly male. T-shirt, Carhartt jacket, ballcap. Oh, I did wear a pair of pretty, girly, jacket earrings, just to round out the look. I think I looked pretty respectable, if not slightly off kilter.

I had about half an hour to waste before the movie started (and could've wasted another half hour to skip the damnable movie trailers and other dreck they force us to endure before viewing the film we paid so handsomely to see), so I stopped at a nearby Goodwill store to look for pretty, girly things that I couldn't live without.

I'm not mousy when out in public, regardless of how I'm attired, so I didn't try walking down the less populated aisles or staring at my feet to avoid eye contact. I strode through the shop very boldly and deliberately. First, I headed for the shoe section. I don't often find any shoes in my size at any thrift store, but I always check just in case. The only acceptable offering was a pair of really cute gray ballet flats covered in glitter. I tried one on and it fit perfectly. Then I looked at the price tag. $18.99 for a pair of hand-me-down ballet flats? The people who price these things must be out of their minds. I put the cute shoe back on the rack and headed to the dress section. There I found a black dress with a really lovely blue floral pattern on it, in exactly my size, and at less than half the price of those sparkly flats. I ran off to the fitting room with the dress as fast as my legs would carry me, flew out of my skirt and t-shirt and slid the new prospect down over my head. From the neckline to the hemline, I ADORE this dress, and I think it looks spectacular on me. The moment I caught my reflection in the mirror, I actually said, out loud, "Need it."

After striking gold with the black dress and striking out on shoes, skirts and basically everything else, I decided to take a quick look at the clearance racks. To my great delight, I found a cardigan and a lovely cowl-necked top in my size for $0.99 each. I didn't even bother trying them on. I took a quick look at my phone and decided it was time to head to the cinema.

Upon arrival at the cinema, everything went as smoothly as I could ever ask for. Very few people in the building, and none of them seemed to take any particular notice of me and my odd attire. In the auditorium, a man in my row caught sight of my skirt (and my struggle climbing the stairs in a pencil skirt with my long, manly strides). He gave me a peculiar look as I walked by him, but nothing was or needed to be said.

First obstacle - I get to my assigned seat to find a man sitting in the seat beside it and his coat lying in my seat. Hey, I'm Joe Cool over here! I told the guy not to worry and just took the next seat over, leaving my coat, popcorn and drink in the seat beside that. After exchanging small talk with the guy pilfering my seat, I ran off to the men's room for a pre-flick tinkle. Again, nobody was there to say anything, and probably wouldn't have even if they had been.

Back to the auditorium just in time for those horrid movie trailers and aforementioned dreck, which seemed to go on forever, but anyway...the movie starts and everything is cool. Too cool, in fact. My legs are getting colder and colder as the film goes on. Good thing I had that Carhartt coat with the toasty warm sherpa lining! I slipped off my flats and managed to tuck both legs and feet under my coat.

The movie ended and I went back to my car, after another stop at the washroom. This time there was a man in there recycling some of that movie theater soda, but I doubt he noticed anything unusual about me, or at least didn't let on that he had. Meanwhile, I'm once again trying to hold up the front of my skirt without the back following suit and exposing my behind for the whole world to see. Okay, got through that, now back to the car and back home.

Let's pump the brakes

This post has become quite a bit longer than I had originally intended, so I'll save the story of what happened after the movie for another post. It's actually rather dull, so I may not post it at all.

Thank you for reading my ramblings, friends. I'll post again soon!