It's been a week!

Last week, while attending a rock music festival, I got slightly drunk and revealed my "secret" to a (female) kinda / sort friend, in a moment of drunken honesty. Much to my delight, she told me "I don't care what you wear."

Fast forward a week. Me and this friend (let's call her Brenda) decide to go out for pedicures. I gather up my courage, jump into a blue maxi skirt and drive up to meet her. Let me tell you, folks, I had the VERY BEST time I can remember hanging out with Brenda. She's literally non-judgmental. She doesn't give a damn what I wear. I can't find the words to describe how refreshing that is, after 9 years with a woman who considers crossdressing a shameful, dirty little secret.

Brenda and I had some time to kill before our nail appointment, so we drove a thrift store near the nail salon and went inside. Here I am, very much male from the waist up, in a skirt and girly sandals, walking around a thrift store with about a dozen or so "normal" shoppers, checking out dresses, skirts, shoes, etc., and nobody seemed to care at all. We had a great time shopping! Brenda found a cute red, white & blue tie-dyed maxi skirt that she loved, so we headed to the dressing room. Here I am waiting for Brenda to come out, playing with the golf clubs, not even on anyone else's radar. Brenda walks out of the dressing room and tells me the skirt fits her perfectly, but while she was in there, it occurred to her that this particular skirt would look good on me. It didn't take much convincing to get me and the skirt into the dressing room, and wouldn't you know it, the darn thing fits me perfectly, too! Brenda insists that I buy the skirt (it's less than $3), so I do. We stand in line for the cashier, I pay for my skirt and off we go. Not a single incident to report.

So we head to the nail salon and they're ready for us right away. We sit in the pedicure chairs and I experience one of the most awesome experiences of my life. Why hasn't anyone told me how great a pedicure feels and looks when it's all done? The color Brenda chose for me (I'm awful at picking the right color) was a soft pink. With the pink on my toes, the tech asked if I wanted a design on my big toes for an extra $5. What the heck, I'd love that! So she draws a beautiful design on my big toes and a few minutes later I'm off to the dryer. My head is spinning at this point, because I've been all over town in this skirt and haven't heard so much as a snicker from anyone. Now I'm sitting with my feet under this dryer next to a lady I've never met before, and we're having a perfectly normal conversation. Have I died and gone to heaven? Nope, just to a nail salon, where apparently judgment is left at the door. Needless to say, I will be returning, whether Brenda comes along or not.

After the nail salon, I follow Brenda back to her apartment and we just sit on the couch and visit for a while. She tells me her kids (both in their late teens) are on their way home, along with her son's "really nice" friend. I start to panic. I ask if I should leave. Brenda reassures me that her kids will be totally cool, so I stay. The kids walk through the door and, aside from a smirk from Brenda's daughter, they act as if they didn't even notice my bright blue skirt and pink polished toenails. Oh, and that I appear to be a man otherwise. I'm overjoyed. I can hardly contain my smile, but I must. If I turn it into an event, then it will be my fault it became an event, and I will have ruined a perfect day. After a while, I decide it's time to go home and get changed so I can meet my siblings for dinner. Brenda and I hug on her front porch and decide we'll get together on Friday, just to hang out and shop for shoes online.

Friday comes along, and Brenda gets called in to work, so my plans with her are canceled. I'm a little bummed, but I trudge on. An hour later, my cousin, with whom I was supposed to go see a movie, texts and tells me she's too broke for the movie, so we'll have to do it another time. Now I'm getting depressed. All my girly plans for the day have fallen through. So I contact my sister and her ex-husband. I agreed to set up Fire Sticks for them that day, so why not have them come over early and get that knocked out. The landlord's handyman is replacing the air conditioner in my bedroom, so I'm hesitant to change while he's there, but decided just to be bold and go ahead. I slip into my favorite black skirt and move on with my day. My ex-brother-in-law shows up and doesn't even mention my attire. Perfect. That's exactly what I would love to have happen every day. A short while later, my sister shows up. My sister has never seen me in any type of feminine attire, so she's slightly shocked when she sees me. This quickly passes. In fact, later in the day she confessed that she was hoping I'd be wearing a skirt or dress so she could see it and have some time to get acclimated to it. She's a great sister. I'm blessed to have her. Her ex (I'll call him Bill - not his real name), still a good friend of mine and hers, tells me he doesn't care what I wear, and he'd be happy to strap on a dress and go out in public with me. Great sentiment, but unnecessary. We drink through a 12-pack of beer and my sister polishes off a bottle of my fiancee's wine, so Bill decides to run to the liquor store for more adult beverages. Bill the blows my mind by asking if I'd like to come along. Of course I would! I don't know if he was serious, but I called the bluff. Turns out he wasn't bluffing. We went to the liquor store, goofed off a bit there, made our purchases and left, again without any incident.

Back at the ranch, my sister (let's call her Julie - also not her real name) is jamming out to Ozzy (I told you she's a great sister!) and waiting for us to get back. Bill's girlfriend comes over to join the fun, as does Bill's dog. I'm in heaven. I couldn't be happier. I finish setting up Julie's Fire Sticks (all 6 of them!) for her and proceed to set up Bill's girlfriend's (let's call her Anna). By the time Anna showed up, I had decided to show off a pair of tights I really like. They're nude and have black roses imprinted on them. Julie digs the tights, as does Anna. Not a word of ridicule or derision is said the entire day.

That is, until after all the party people leave. My fiancee gets home around 6:30. Bill and Anna leave about an hour after that. I fall asleep in the recliner, quite drunk, having not finished Anna's Fire Stick. My fiancee gives Julie a ride home, stops at Hardee's and brings dinner home with her. At this point it's about midnight and I have to be up to go to work at 5:00am. After we finish eating, for some reason I blurt out that Brenda went to the nail salon with me. This doesn't sit well with the fiancee. Not well AT ALL. She asks why I didn't tell her this sooner. I say because I don't want to suffer her wrath, as I do whenever anything even remotely crossdress-y comes up.

By the time I went to bed, the fiancee had accused me of "escalating" my crossdressing, keeping secrets from her and I can't even remember what else. My perfect day is obliterated. Smashed. Eviscerated. I'm despondent. She finishes the emotional beatdown by telling me that Julie and Bill and Anna are "my people," and what I do around them is my business, but don't parade around in front of the neighbors in feminine clothes. Of course, it's too late for that. I spoke with 2 of our neighbors yesterday, while wearing my femme finery, and was warmly received by both (both women). A 3rd neighbor walked by, gave me a nod and went into his apartment. He's seen me in a skirt before. He doesn't care. In fact, none of the neighbors seem to give a damn. Only my fiancee is petrified of what total strangers will think or say.

That was last night. As I type this, it's around 4:15pm on Saturday. I've been at work since 7:00am. My fiancee didn't come to bed until after she heard my alarm going off this morning. She hasn't said a word to me since I went to bed. She pocket texted me a couple hours ago. I responded, but she hasn't. I'm afraid this relationship is about to implode, but I won't stop it. My uncle's death had an impact on me, as described in an earlier post. Life is short. Be who you are. I won't compromise who I am because she's worried about the neighbors, or strangers. I can't let the opinions of others shape what I do. I love being girly. I love wearing girly clothes, shoes, jewelry, etc. I love having my nails polished. I've never been with a man sexually. I have gay fantasies, as I understand most guys do, but for the past 47 years, I've never acted on them. If the fiancee and I break up, I may indeed explore that, but I really have no intention of doing that otherwise.

In the end, I can't live my life by her rules. I can't let her fears hold me back. I can't let her judgment lay me low and break me. I have to be strong. I have to be real. If she can't handle it, then we're not such a great fit for each other afterall. I will not succumb to her bullying tactics any longer. I'm not ashamed of who I am. As Iggy Pop once said, I'm not ashamed to dress like a woman, because I don't think being a woman is shameful.

Anyway, that's an ongoing issue, so I'll just wait and see how it plays out. In the meantime, here are a couple pictures of the awesome pedicure I got with Brenda. I hope you like them!

Home Again

The trip to Arizona was fun. We did a lot of driving -- over 1,200 miles in 3 days! We saw Arizona's beauty from so many vantage points, and it was inspiring.

I brought a few feminine items along, including a skirt, but never wore it. Things were going well. I didn't want to make waves with my compulsion to wear a skirt, so it just didn't come up.

There was a moment, shopping in Scottsdale, when I mentioned that I liked a certain dress. My fiancee shocked me by asking if I liked it for myself. This is HUGE. She doesn't like me crossdressing, but she understands now that it's something I need and something I love to do. So she throws me a bone and I'm elated. Any stride toward full acceptance is good, in my opinion.

My fiancee knows that I shave my legs. She's known for a while. So we were at a Walmart in Page, AZ, picking up a few odds and ends. I mentioned that I didn't bring a leg razor with me, so she grabbed a pack of "girl" razors and threw them in the cart. Another stride toward acceptance, in my opinion.

We flew back 2 weeks ago, and things have settled back into a routine. On the way home from the airport, our car overheated, blew both head gaskets and died on an off-ramp. We decided that the car (a 2007 Subaru) was too old to invest the $3,000 it would take to fix it, so we bought a 2017 Nissan Rogue to replace it. Other than that, nothing too exciting, good or bad, has happened.

My schedule rotates, so every other month I have my weekends off. This is my last full weekend off until August, which means my fiancee is home with me. This makes it difficult to dress as I would like, but I also have the next two days off, so I'll get my girl on then. I know I'm jonesing to dress, as I'm looking around for places I may have stashed a pair of pantyhose, but alas, no luck finding any. Oh well, I only have to wait until tomorrow...

Did I Say I Was Better?

 My brain is like a bag of cats.

Yesterday I felt fine. Better than fine. I even got a little girl time after work. Wore a dress, enjoyed being feminine, win / win, right?

Today I came to a horrible realization. But more on that later. First, the setup...

My fiancee and I are taking a trip to Arizona, which starts a week from today. We're going to the Grand Canyon, Antelope Canyon, Horseshoe Bend, etc. Then we're heading south, visiting Tombstone and then spending our last 2 days partying our asses off in Phoenix. So far, so good.

Did I mention that the day we fly to Arizona is also my 47th birthday? Well, it is. My fiancee, whose heart is absolutely huge and ever-flowing with love and affection, has been grilling me lately about what I would like her to give me for my birthday. I'm not big on receiving gifts, be it my birthday, Christmas, Valentine's Day, etc, so I always tell her the same thing -- "your love and attention are all I ever want you to give me."

Great sentiment, but also complete bullshit. What I really want, and have for years, is for her to accept me as I am, dresses and all, as if it were no big deal. This has been my fondest wish for so long, and with this trip coming up, I feel like I have an opportunity to prove to her that it's no big deal. I can wear skirts and the like on our trip without anyone we know ever seeing it. What's even better is that I doubt anyone in Arizona is going to make a fuss over some dude in a skirt. My experience has been that people either don't notice or don't care.

I typed a letter to my beloved on Saturday (3 days ago), laying it all out. The trip, my recent outing to the movies, everything. I even went as far as to state that if she can't get her mind wrapped around this, we'll have to break up. It's not going away, and I can't bear the thought of suppressing it for the rest of my life. I love this woman, more than my own life, but I can't pretend to be someone I'm not. I'm a crossdresser. I crossdress. I always have. I always will. If I don't drop this letter on her, and damn soon, the opportunity is going to slip away.

So here's the horrible realization: I'm a coward. Fear rules me. I know how to make Millions of Dollars investing in real estate, but I'm afraid to talk to sellers on the phone, so I give in to the fear and keep my day job. I know that crossdressing makes me feel more comfortable, confident and alive, but I'm afraid to have this conversation with my fiancee, so I let fear win once again. The letter has not been printed. I have not told her about it. I am terrified of her reaction to it.

Oh but to be bold just once in my life! To push fear aside and live MY FUCKING LIFE on MY FUCKING TERMS!! But I'm a coward, you see. I have always let fear dictate my actions, and chances are very good that I always will. Not only am I a coward, but a fucking loser as well.

My fiancee senses that I'm deeply troubled by something. She has tried to pull it out of me. She doesn't know how volatile this situation really is. Every time I mention crossdressing to her, she turns cold. Every time I ask her to just try to accept it, she becomes enraged. I am, at this very moment, presented with the sadistic choice Willem Dafoe mentioned in Spider-Man. Do I cling to the woman I love so dearly, and in doing so denounce a part of myself forever, or do I embrace who I am and lose her? There is no happy outcome to this conundrum. I must choose whether to value her affection over my own sanity or not. To be content and lonely or miserable with this wonderful person at my side.

The coward in me is telling me to take the layup. Go with the safe bet. Keep the woman and burn the girly things. But there's another voice vying for my attention. This voice tells me that fortune favors the bold. If I lose this woman, another will appear, one who doesn't care what kind of clothes I wear or whether I present myself to the world as male or female on any given day. But I love her so damn much...

Feeling A Bit Better

As it tends to do, my depression has waned just a bit. I still feel alone, but not as much as I did last week.

All I want is to be accepted as I am. I'm not a drag queen. I'm not transgender. I'm just a man who likes to wear feminine things.

I look at Instagram and see men, with beards and mustaches, wearing over the top makeup styles. They don't look bad. Actually, they look pretty cool and, well, pretty! Men looking pretty, posting pictures of their pretty faces for the whole world to see, and I'm over here in my skirt, pantyhose and heels like, what's the big deal?

I intended to have another crossdressing adventure this week, but my laziness got the better of me. I also intended to mow the lawn wearing a skirt, which I also didn't do. It's a good thing I didn't, though. Halfway through mowing, my landlord showed up to drop of something or other, and made a point to wave at me. Had I been wearing a skirt, it may have become awkward.

That's just what I'm talking about. Why should it get awkward? Aren't clothes just clothes? Should my landlord make a big deal about the clothes I choose to wear while carrying out my yard duties? As long as he gets his check every month, it shouldn't matter to him. Yet somehow my mind places an irrational fear upon the prospect of anyone who knows me seeing me wearing the clothes I'm most comfortable in.

I know it's all in my head, with the exception of my lovely fiancee. With her, it's all too real.

Even my sister, with whom I had a semi-drunken conversation yesterday, is more or less accepting of my fashion choices. She said it would take her some time to get used to, but whatever makes me happy and comfortable is cool with her.

A little back-story on my sister: When she got married back in 2007, I did not attend. I believed that she had stopped talking to me when I told the whole family about my crossdressing. For years I believed that she would disown me because I liked to wear girly things. Time passed and we started talking again. Our relationship has improved drastically since then, and I now realize that the wedge between us wasn't crossdressing, but our mother. My sister didn't invite our mom to her wedding, for her own reasons, and I understand them. However, the method by which our mother learned that she wasn't invited was cruel and hurtful. I couldn't help but side with my mother and agree that my sister should have told her outright that she wasn't invited, and explain her reasoning for it. That misunderstanding cost me 5 years of my relationship with my sister, and it hurts my heart when I think about it.

So, when that same sister tells me she's cool with however I choose to attire myself, it gives me a warm feeling. It feels like acceptance to me, which is all I ask of anyone.

I'm still feeling depressed, but it's manageable now. I still feel alone, but not as utterly alone as I did a few days ago. I still wish and hope and pray that my fiancee will come around to acceptance, and will take whatever baby steps are necessary to facilitate that, but if it never comes, I'll have to find a way to endure and soldier on. I can't let one person's judgment cripple me. I'm a magnificent, vibrant person, with a lot to offer. I feel love in my heart. I know there is kindness and decency within me, even if I haven't found a consistent way to present it outwardly. I know there is a place in this world where I can be who I want to be, without the scorn and judgment of everyone close to me. All I have to do is find that place, that state of being, to cast off the chains of shame and guilt, and be the person I know I can be.

I'm going to try to do another pantyhose review very soon. I found some ultra sheer, soft and comfy pantyhose at Kohl's that I'm anxious to tell you about!

Hello Depression My Old Friend

The high I felt from going to a movie in a skirt and nylons has faded. Reality has intruded once again.

My fiancée is terrified that someone she knows will see me wearing what I love to wear - namely skirts, dresses, feminine hosiery & high heels. Every time I broach the subject of crossdressing, she instantly goes ice cold.

There was one such moment last week. I was still feeling really good about my movie trip, so I brought up my feminine wardrobe to her, mentioning the fact that I'd found a pretty necklace at a local thrift store. Instead of encouraging my happiness, she went cold. She made me feel ashamed of myself for doing something which harmed nobody, something I truly enjoy doing - shopping for feminine things for myself.

I felt lower than a snake's belly. I felt like a filthy degenerate. She didn't have to say a word to reduce me to a repugnant little worm. Just like the last time I tried to discuss crossdressing with her, the experience left me feeling alone. So very alone.

It was at that very moment that I realized that this relationship is doomed. As long as we're together, I can never be who I truly am. I can never feel the freedom I felt at that movie theater, for any prolonged period. I can never be ME. I'll always have to put on an act for her.

Knowing that the relationship has to end hurts. We've been together for 9 years. She is closer to me than anyone else in the world. Yet she refuses to know the real me. Refuses to even consider my feelings.

I've been on the verge of tears ever since that moment. I feel disconnected and alone. So very alone. I've become a stranger in my own life, and now I have to choose whether to remain this stranger or let go of the person I love most.

Life sucks. I mean it just fucking sucks. I'm depressed. I'm contemplating suicide. I'm in a no-win situation. The good news for my fiancée is that I've lost all interest in crossdressing. The bad news is that I've lost all interest in everything else, too.

My life has been drained of all joy. This is the power she has over me. Do I love her enough to spend the rest of my life pretending I'm something I'm not?

I want to die. I want to be gone from this shitty life forever. I hope there is no afterlife. The prospect of continued existence is absolutely horrifying. I want oblivion. To never feel or think again. To not realize that I ever existed. To simply be gone. No pain. No depression. Nothingness.

HUGE Milestone

I've been in love with wearing feminine clothes since I was 5 years old and tried on a pair of my mom's pantyhose. I was instantly hooked!

I'm a month away from my 47th birthday. My favorite uncle passed away on April 1st. Though unrelated, these two events have inspired me to look inward, at why I don't feel fulfilled or happy with my life. What I realized was that I haven't been living my authentic life!

42 years after I tried on mom's nylons, I'm hiding my feminine proclivities from the world out of fear of being "found out" by coworkers, friends, the public at large. Why? What is so wrong with wanting to wear dresses and heels and tights? Nothing. It's harmless.

That's why today, of all days, while at work, I hatched a scheme to face my fear once and for all.

Several hours later, I stepped out of my car at the local movie theater wearing a black heavy metal hoodie, a blue skater skirt, glossy black tights and black ballet flats. Nervous as all hell, I strolled into the theater and collected my ticket from the Fandango kiosk in the outer lobby (amidst the laughter of people behind me) and strolled into the lobby as if everything was perfectly normal. I ordered popcorn and a large soda, calmly walked to the soda fountain to fill my cup, then proceeded to the auditorium and sat in my comfy recliner seat to enjoy a seemingly endless barrage of movie previews.

All the while, only 2 chuckles, including the people behind me walking into the building. I got more than a few odd looks and sidelong glances, but nobody was openly hostile or even rude.

All in all, it was a tremendous first outing as a man in a skirt. I feel so accomplished and genuinely happy, all because I stepped out of my comfort zone. The sky didn't fall, nobody tried to shame or humiliate me, and the world keeps on spinning.

Maybe I'll do it again tomorrow....which is actually today! It's 4:30 am already! Good night!

Some Quick Pantyhose Shots

As I mentioned in the first post to this blog, I sorta have a thing for pantyhose. Alright, I'm a full-blown pantyhose FANATIC. I love pantyhose, in all their varying shades and styles. They're absolutely the most feminine garment ever.

Having said that, I actually shaved my legs today for the first time in years. Needless to say, I love the way they feel, but even more importantly, I got a chance to indulge in my favorite pastime -- trying on and wearing glossy, shiny, slippery new pantyhose!

So here they are...

First off, a teaser. These are Leggs Silken Mist pantyhose in "Nude." They're silky, very sheer and very, very comfy. 

Next, we move up the gloss scale ever so slightly. In this shot, I'm wearing Italiana Women 15 Denier Glossy pantyhose. 

These are also very comfy, just a bit glossy and more durable than most glossy pantyhose. I bought these because they weren't expensive and they promised a "high gloss" finish.

You can buy them here.

 


In these 6 shots, I was wearing Cecilia de Rafael Sevilla Gloss Tights in the shade "Natural." Like the previous pair, these are advertised as "high gloss," and I must admit they're much glossier than the Italiana pantyhose. 

 

For the final entry of this post, we have the often-imitated, never duplicated, Platino Cleancut 15 pantyhose in the shade "Caresse."

What can I say about Platino Cleancuts that hasn't already been said hundreds of times? BUY THESE PANTYHOSE! LOL

These are the slipperiest, glossiest, most elegant pantyhose I've ever worn. These photos don't do them justice at all. My legs look like they're coated in glass!

Well, that's it for this pantyhose show. Wait, did I just hear the mailman? I bet there's a pair of Cecilia de Rafael Eterno 15s in my mailbox...