It may be miniscule on the screen in front of me but, as I’ve said before, the site of a Cam4 copied pic as my Avatar stirs up quite a lot of excitement somewhere deep within.

It is not only the sight of stocking clad legs but also the pose I was in at the time it was covertly taken.

Just this morning, I was standing over the bath (as opposed to kneeling), preparing to get into workday attire from a virtual birthday suit other then my regular men’s g-string, giving my hair a rinse through and looked down at my long slim but arguably life scarred legs and thinking that they seemed to go down well in any kind of stockings.

I said ‘seemed’ with a distinct element of past tense.

It has been quite a few days since I last cross dressed  – definitely more than a week – and many days since I had the hell bent feelings to do so. My feelings have actually been quite the opposite – relaxed, relieved, free of conscience and content with it.

I’ve had very valued time with the family and have drawn satisfaction from the things I’ve done in my life that needed doing and I’m focused on doing more of the same.

But having remained on this path, my mind is not so much turning to where things are stored but what I should do with them and perhaps most importantly of all, when.

If they’ve not been found so far,  why might they be now? Sod’s law I guess.  The cynic that I am and with early days going so well, I’m weighing up how – by some freak occurrence – my hidey hole might just be discovered and blow the path I’m now on to smithereens.

That only leaves one thing for it – the dreaded ‘p’ word – purge. I remain haunted by the now conflicting guilt of all the lovely stuff that has gone in the local tip and recycling banks around and about in years gone by.

I once remember briefly agonising as I left a branch of a well known High Street lingerie chain that I’d just spent £70 on a red bra, g-string and suspender belt and fishnet stockings (because they didn’t do any other kind) and an identical white set with satin stockings before looking forward to dressing in them only a matter of several months later to put them in a nearby bin – I’ve blogged about my purges before.

However, I am where I am and all of that is in the past anyway and nothing can be done about it – other than remember for all the right reasons.

In short though, I’m not ready to purge. Besides the simple task of going to the hidey holes will provide visual eye candy that I can’t say I’ll be able to resist.

What is it they say?  Time is a healer.  Also on my mind are the Web presences, the pics and the profiles, the folk who are awaiting my return which isn’t happening anytime soon and if things go to plan, won’t at all. Hell, even blogging about the subject is a risky business!

I’ve previously blogged about having cancelled  a subscription and really struggled to get back on,  jumping through several admin hoops only to cancel again then sign back up again without a problem. It must have been a bad day before.

But again, I am not ready for that visual stimuli either as I can’t say I’ll be able to ‘do the deed’ or avoid a relapse.

I’ve even avoided crossdressing porn instead when ‘in the mood’ going for run of the mill hetero stuff instead and that was definitely as a way of therapy.

Perhaps the ‘stash’ is OK where it is. As I’ve said – it hasn’t been discovered so far and it is hidden well.

Things are just hunky dory at home and in general too for that matter. Above all,  I’m not agonising over recent crossdressing sessions as there haven’t been any.

I haven’t been lingerie shopping since ‘that little pink number’ I previously blogged about and nor have I been in a lingerie department for any other reason but conventional.  But I did and do enjoy the opportunity when it comes along and am not one of those ‘don’t know where to look’ and clearly embarrassed chaps. Not me but for all the reasons you know about.

If you want to be following a blog about a cross dresser, right now, I can quite comfortably and bordering on confidently say that I WAS.

My god I’d like to in a way but the title of this little read  (and arguably for me therapeutical) blog has always been (although sometimes waveringly) called ‘The recovering crossdresser’.

As I’ve said before, this isn’t a clear path. It is one still fraught with danger and pitfalls, a risk of taking a step back, and though I’ve said before too that it is ok to take one step back then two forward, my mind set is that a step back is not one I want to take, even though there may be positivity ahead afterwards.

For any crossdresser, I guess it’s about being comfortable with who you are. I was not comfortable with who I was and had become increasingly more uncomfortable over recent times.

There is another very strong reason why I’m not interested and I’ve mentioned that before too. Testosterone and hormones that make my hair grow like it’s an Olympic sport. Gold medal is secured for the 100m sprint and everything in between up to 1500m and probably marathons too. But I still hate the hair growth with a passion. I’m forever calendar watching for and look forward to the next removal session. Then the bloody growth that was stemmed the time before starts pushing through within a few weeks and so the cycle begins again.

But then again – if hair growth frustrates me so much, control over that growth and a period where I feel more comfortable in myself has to be good for as long as it lasts. Just so long as I don’t have a relapse when I’m smooth as that proverbial baby’s bum again.

I’ll be along again soon to ramble on some more.