I am in a middle ground at the moment. One of not having an urge to crossdress but knowing the situations which lead to that uncontrollable wave which carries me where I might not want to be at least in part. This past week has given me peace of mind at having not been dressed and as had I have been, the family situations would have meant quite some guilt.

I’ve not nor had the urge for quite a landmark period to be honest. But as I’ve blogged before, there is at least one reason.  Physically – I’m not ready.  My hirsutism is a contributing factor but while ever it lasts, there is psychological karma and as it turns out, something of relief.

There is though a lingering spectre of need and temptation not too far away which worries me. Can I fight it? Getting my hair removed over the next few days leaves me with what I might call ‘a blank canvas’, I’m more ‘femme’ and of course totally smooth – a canvas which looks far better in lingerie than one with a hairy undercoat!

Whilst I am at it,  perhaps I should analyse why I undergo regular pain of hair removal by waxing.

People have asked my alter ego on line as to whether it hurts. Of course – you are having your hair pulled out by the root!

I caught sight of an old family holiday pic the other day of me at a water park. This was long before my crossdressing was triggered – I think – but it was certainly before I started trying to find a way to get smooth.

Gosh I was hairy. To be fair, I probably wasn’t that bad but seeing that picture, I hated it. It is hot, it is sweaty and it is uncomfortable.

After shaving and epilating, use of creams and a wholly futile round of waxing, I discovered a place I could be discreetly waxed sufficiently.

To cut a long story short, the more you do it,  the less it hurts, the thinner, less resistant the hair becomes but the very moment the next growth comes through, I hate – no – despise it.  But still you have to avoid the temptation of plucking and apply patience until you can get it next time.

Confession time. The fact that it is hot and sweaty and I don’t like the look is not the only reason as I’m sure you know.  But that’s the commonly known reason – call it ‘public’ if you like.

I’ve already touched on the look and feel of lingerie on smooth skin.  My slight paunch is the other minor irritation despite being of generally slim build, tall with long legs (complimented upon when in stockings) and with an appreciated rear it seems.  I’m trying not to brag here!

Which brings me back to the here and now.  Hairy, next waxing session due very shortly and a worry that the so called ‘blank canvas’ will trigger those arguably irrational, uncontrollable urges again when I’d been doing so well. Can I turn a corner?

And given the positivity and peace of mind I’ve had for the last week or so remaining so resolutely in ‘civvies’, I’m presented with a lingering spectre – something for Jekyll & Hyde or the devil and angel sitting on opposite shoulders to pick up their squabble about. And it’s a worry to be honest.

Ironic – is it not – that the word ‘lingering’ is so close to ‘lingerie’. I must look up the origins of the latter as I’ve sure done some lingering in lingerie.

But at this moment – it’s not me – not I – not now.

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