So that’s that then – a full day without crossdressing, and dare I say it, without too much thought about it either  – just some thought about it.  I suppose I’ve been distracting myself all day, throwing myself into the day job, hobbies and socialising et al.

This morning, there was no springing out of bed, no dressing in secret, no making myself late for work due to the necessity of the tidy up, the necessity of the cover up, no hiding stuff away or putting it back as it was.

I have however felt strangely flat today. Not sad – just flat, yet in part, almost ‘normal’.  Truth be told, I’ve not been sleeping well of late, and that’s enough to wear anyone down irrespective of any underlying reason, but dreams have been quite active of late, and with a fair old few crossdressing references too, including one recent dream where the wife was actually wearing an outfit that she’d actually never wear in reality.  What I do remember about that dream is how excited I was that she was wearing it – then, as the old saying goes, ‘I woke up and had my breakfast’.  No wonder I’ve been tired though.  Late to bed, waking up a while before the alarm then facing the day does not bode well for wellbeing and health, but instead, for becoming run down and ill which is not something I’d like to happen of course.

Dreams take some analysing do they not?  How many times have you woken up and weren’t able to remember dreaming at all, and how many times have you woken up and remembered only parts of dreams, often those which resonate significantly?  I don’t talk in my sleep which is a good thing, but it has worried me that with such active dreams including crossdressing references, I might utter something in reality that is going off in dreamland.  So far, so good though, and perhaps things will ease as I try to put my inner most thoughts to one side – day by day.

Signs and reminders are all around.  An abundance of shops near work that stock a plethora of lingerie – so much temptation, yet so much disinterest of shopping there, only an acknowledgement that I could choose to do so, or not, if I had the nerve or drive one day.  I’m also carrying some other related baggage, but enough of that here.

Warmer weather sees people less covered, more open with their dress sense, more skin on show but instead, my thoughts have been more masculine, and appreciative with it, less inclined to somehow try and get into something akin to what I’d seen or what I’d known people were wearing or thought they were wearing.  I’m still playing the light hearted amusement offered by the ‘stockings or tights’ game, and tights or even no hosiery at all seem to be winning hands down right now.

I had a close call a few days ago at work.  Answering a call of nature, dressed only in what I regularly call ‘civvies’ (male work attire) I was in a cubicle that hadn’t locked properly (so it turned out!), (not one that I hadn’t locked properly because I was sure that I had!, one I’d previously been in before a week or two before on another call of nature, but also, on that occasion, to adjust stockings and suspenders), when someone tried the door on an their own innocent call of nature themselves but continued on their path after the door responded to use of the handle and didn’t resist.  Without stating the obvious, and with the toilet sat at right angles around a corner from the doorway with me on it, and probably with me reaching to close the door back anyway, the intruder apologised, evidently embarrassed but having seen very little other than legs and dashed away.

A wave of shock hit me around 5 minutes later after returning to the office.  What if I’d been crossdressed and had been standing in front of the door adjusting my stockings and suspenders with my baggy boxers and trousers around my ankles?

Don’t bother answering.  The answers and consequences don’t bare thinking about.   I spared myself from thinking too much about it as the shock itself was enough, and it was softened by the very fact that, on the day, I was not crossdressed, no one had spotted or outed me, and perhaps most importantly of all, I was not, irrespective of equal opportunities policies supposedly in place at work (irrespective of gender, sex, religion etc blah blah blah), facing a very difficult situation – only a potentially embarrassing one of being caught on the loo by someone who wasn’t suspecting anyone would be in there.  Reflecting over and done then – only not quite. No harm done and the rest of the working day continued as normal.

Reflectively, I’ve also drawn what could be a semi-veil over my crossdressing this last 36 hours or so, my psyche almost ticking off a bucket list item.  Yes, I’ve worn a bra, stockings and suspenders, a g-string or knickers, yes, I liked it – lots of past tense there.

There’s just one nagging doubt over sustaining control now and particularly long term.  I’m hirsute per se, less so than I used to be by some margin admittedly, and as I understand it, it grows less the more you remove it at source and the longer the period goes in between removal sessions, I’ve noted that the less I care or deem myself ‘ready’ or ‘suitable’ to crossdress anyway, yet I countdown and look forward to the next session to feel better about myself once more having been waxed.

However, it is some weeks until I have my returning body hair removed once more, and I wonder – worry if you like – whether that preferred way of simply being will be the catalyst that sends me spiralling somewhere that I would rather not go to the depths that I have been as lingerie directly touches flesh and all the senses and feelings it generates.  Everything in moderation?  Yes – I subscribe to that, but I seem incapable of ensuring a balance, incapable of focusing on other things as well as my crossdressing – and that my dear reader, makes me an addict I guess.

If I could balance doing other things AND crossdressing, I might feel better about things, but it seems I cannot find a balance – the draw is too powerful – it is either one or the other with me and that’s not a good thing. With the danger of slipping up, the danger of neglecting other very important people and other things becoming ever more apparent (much as I’ve mentioned before in a recent blog) something has to change does it not?

As I type, I’m sitting here knowing where things are hidden nearby, tempted just to take an appreciative look just for taking a look’s sake, but you know what?  I’m not going to bother.

One day at a time I suppose.  Tomorrow is just another day…