Friday morning was another of those mornings where I very quickly donned one of the same (few) outfits again, that well documented spider basque and stockings, heels and g-string.  (There’s a part of me that really wants to go shopping but a massive part of me that can’t quite pluck up the courage just yet still).

In my head, all I could hear was the battle between the devil one on shoulder and the angel on another.  “But you’ve got to and should  get to work, and you don’t want to be late again”, “…yes but you really do want to feel encased in glorious black lacy lingerie don’t you”, “..yes but you’ve got things to do at home too don’t you?”

I compromised.  Having fairly swiftly dressed (I realise that I’m getting quite quick at it nowadays), I switched on the webcam but set about doing some other work.  However, GerryLynn found herself somewhat thrilled by the sudden tick up of numbers watching and corresponding, so with a target time set to make a dash for it, play-time commenced.

But when the time came, the on-line session ceased, off came the lingerie (albeit with double checking, triple checking, quadruple checking that the browser and associated windows was off, and log-ins eradicated, the lingerie was back where it awaited me next, and my own stockings were tucked away in their usual hiding place.   It was a mad, mad dash, but despite the slow drivers and the very limited time I gave myself, I made the connection and I made work on time even though I ate on the move, there having been no time at home to do anything other than put on some underarm, don the work attire, pick up the jacket and other work-day acoutrements and dash out of the door to face the day in which I largely ignored my on-line alter-ego’s presence and threw myself headlong into work which, if I’m honest, I found quite strangely invigorating. (I’d showered the previous evening – just so you know! All part of the planning…)

Was my mind actually off crossdressing today? Well, no actually, but it was suppressed to the thoughts.  I’d been there, I’d done it for a while, but I wasn’t right now and I was OK with that then.  It was that bit of karma, something akin to a post coital moment.  Satisfied from what I’d done and not in need of it at that particular moment.

As I said before, I don’t think I want to wear lingerie all of the time. Besides, there’s no chance of that anyway, so it may as well be ‘off and on’ in both senses of the words.

Which got me thinking; what is it with me?  I recently blogged about whether it was a fetish or whether I am an lingerie crossdressing addict.   If you feel that you don’t know the difference between the two terms and can’t be bothered to let your fingers do the working on your own keyboard, stay put, take a break and put the kettle on if you like and we’ll share the ride together for a few moments, courtesy of everyone’s favourite reference point (? for the sake of it) – Wikipedia.

Fetish: Anthropological: the attribution of religious or mystical qualities to inanimate objects, known as fetishes or Sexual: a sexual focus on non-traditional turn-ons. (

Addiction: There’s a lot to read here: (

None the wiser?  Me neither. I can’t say I’ve suffered withdrawal symptoms unless you call the nervous excitement and sick feeling in the build up to actually being able to start dressing and be crossdressed in lingerie some sort of withdrawal symptom.   I’ve seen other on-line dictionary references for both terms, but right now, I don’t feel the need to read them – that’s not to say I won’t look again at some point though.

Is it relevant to question what I might be myself anyway?  Am I anything but just little old me?   I find myself finely tuned to hearing information from those around me (the wife’s work shifts for example and where she may be going for any given amount of time) that may indicate when I can or might have the merest moment to myself to even consider crossdressing in lingerie again let alone actually doing it.  Who’s where?  For how long? If I don’t know how long, can I guess, or make the most of the time and cut it short to be on the safe side?  Should I do so?  What else could I be or should I be doing.  Could I do both?   (That didn’t work yesterday morning once I revealed myself!)

I know what you’re thinking – ‘addict’.  But then when I crossdress, it IS a sexual focus on what is widely considered to be a non-traditional turn-on, i.e. a man dressed in women’s lingerie.  There I go again – analysing it!

I’ve read a lot online over the last few days and that included a sample read of a few pages of ‘The Sissy Next Door’ via Amazon having stumbled across it whilst researching.  If only I had an e-reader device onto which I could down load it, as the sample was quite a good read to be honest.  What I have read online this last few days is that society per se has a problem with gender definition. There are those who are understanding and broadminded, there are those that are stoicly the other way and won’t be assuaged come hell or high water, and there are those who are non-committal either way and won’t entertain either notion just because.

What was it I read?  Something along the lines of women being considered sexy and it being totally acceptable if they pull on a man’s shirt to cover up a little around the house or if they wear trousers to work – that kind of thing (there was probably more but right now, it’s late), yet a man puts on lingerie and or women’s clothing (etc), and he’s considered to be one of several negative, persecutional and potentially hurtful descriptors I won’t list here and maybe even physical as well as mental abuse.  How wrong is that and on how many different levels?

Goodness me, there’s a long way to go and it is going to take a few more generations passing yet for old fashioned attitudes to die away and for the older folk of tomorrow to look less critically at certain things in life and I don’t just mean relating to gender and sexuality.

Goodness me again! After the recent balloon fun recently blogged, this blog has been quite serious in comparison.  So, I’ll end this time around with a little nod to crossdressing which did occur today.  Not only am I hiding my stockings, but I’m now hoarding two different shades of pink balloons. The ones I bought the other day, and the slightly paler ones I casually picked up from the home and garden store today on a quick jaunt in for a few basics.   Both types are now secreted away for another round of sizing and fitting.  I presume that spider basque has dried out from the other day.   I feel some more experimenting coming on…at some point…when the mood and moment takes me…