In order to establish when I last crossdressed (albeit approximately), I need to go back through my blog entries. It would appear to have been early November.
Since then, I did what I said I might struggle to do – purge. My previous blog ‘A gung-ho attitude’ details how rapidly that action was taken.
But since the ‘recovery’ side took precedence, I have been of much better state of mind, more at peace with myself, not distracted by conscience, what I’d done, how I’d been doing it etc, because the only thing I had been doing was going to work, having family time and not trying to plan the next moment to sneak away and don the attire.
Besides, the route to crossdressing has been by pulling on what has been the centrepiece, the hub if you will, of my focus on the act – stockings. Seeing them as that hub perhaps, they were binned in the last purge.
Another focus of my crossdressing, a motivator in fact, is (and not ‘was’) the regular visits to my salon of preference for a full body wax. My last scheduled appointment, booked well in advance, ultimately conflicted with somewhere else I needed to be with the family. Previously, I’d have been quite annoyed at having to delay my ‘me’ time, but on this occasion, it seemed convenient to delay.
As soon as I could, I rang my salon and rebooked. But any worthy place is usually booked up well in advance, and as it turned out, I couldn’t get an appointment for the equivalent period that normal spans the gap between visits – so the next one is not for quite some time yet.
God gave me more than a fair dose of testosterone and as a result, I am biologically hirsute – largely much to my annoyance for a very long period of time. I’ve previously blogged on the lengths I’ve gone to to be hair-less before turning to having a full body wax.
The logic behind having a body wax is that, the more you go, the weaker, thinner and lesser the hair becomes and the easier it is to pull out.
However, as it has now been some considerable time since I last had a full body wax, I’m very much turning into a gibbon once more, more so every day until my next appointment.
The plus side? More hair growth now means more can be removed en-masse next time (and as a result, less should start growing through as quickly) although quite how that will feel, only time will tell. However, I am told that my pain threshold is good and I cope very well with a full body wax. My view? Mind over matter – you’re tearing the hair out in large chunks all at once – it is GOING to hurt, so it has to be dealt with. Besides, on those occasions where it does smart a little bit more than perhaps before, I content myself knowing that I’ll like the end result.
The wife’s view (unknowing as she is and was about my crossdressing ways) is that she really isn’t bothered either way but likes how I am either way. She likes the smoothness all over, when it’s there for the touching!
Speaking in my own and other blogs on the subject of body waxing, I’ve made it very clear that you’re more likely to suffer an adverse reaction if you’re viral, under the weather, run down, not at your best – call it what you will. It will hurt more, your core body temperature will drop quicker and you’re more likely to start shaking and…well, the rest isn’t worth considering. There ARE risks and any salon staff member worth their salt will be acutely aware of the signs and won’t merely be feeling you up during the waxing but will instead be checking your body temperature at regular intervals.
Once more, I’m not at my best at the moment anyway – haven’t been for a while, so moving away from crossdressing mechanics and mindset has had and continues to have its plusses.
Either way, I am looking forward to being waxed again, and as ever, I count the days to my ‘me’ time if for no other reason that I prefer being smooth rather than hirsute.
That brings me on to a question. Am I in any way recovered from my crossdressing ways? Some have said that you’ll never recover because it is how you are, how you’re built. Perhaps it is like an illness that can’t be cured, but can instead only be treated. That may be true and there is a history of stopping crossdressing in secret only to begin again. But I know why I stopped. I had become more and more uncomfortable with doing it. Sure – I loved it whilst I was doing it, but I think I had become discontented with the way I was doing it, and perhaps mostly, what I saw as an element of depravity, culminating in how I felt after the last time I dressed in my now purged pink outfit.
I was out shopping with the missus the other day and we were wandering around a very large supermarket that sells everything you could possibly need. As we crossed from the clothing area to the main shopping area, my attention was grabbed by a rack of fully red cami-suspenders in the aisle next to the aisle we were going down to reach the main part of the supermarket.
Somewhere within, a spark flickered. Everything went into slow motion for a moment as the crossdresser within dwelled on the red ‘festive’ outfits and the dangling suspender straps. Then, having brushed that off as part of ‘corrective’ action, found myself confronted by a sea of bras to my left which attracted my admiring yet unfocused gaze. Again, I acknowledged that my wife was ahead of my striding forward and I needed to keep up and avoid any risk of being found to be overly gazing at the bras.
Besides, if I was, it may only have been perceved as a natural reaction for a heterosexual male caught out of his comfort zone in a lingerie shop, which at least to a degree, it was. However, I’ve said before that such a predicament has never bothered me – but we all know there is or at least, has been, a reason for that!
So what have I learnt? The eyes have it. I can still be lured like a moth to a flame. The fact that I have no spark to be lured, i.e. a pair of stockings,(which would lead to the rest of an outfit being pulled on) and the fact that I am not waxed either and will not be again for a time are reasons, but so too is the reason why I stopped.
It took over my life, it took over me, it led to important people and other important things closest to me being neglected. I disliked myself, it stopped being wholly likeable and this was a driving force behind putting a stop to it all. It was an addiction if not a fetish or both.
I know that I can be lured, but am determined not to be and if that means seeking self relief as a way of instant therapy to be able to refocus then so be it. The act of crossdressing (for me – in lingerie only) may be nice, but the secrecy in which it was conducted and the way it was conducted and the way I felt after it, was not. And that’s a good thing to seize upon and feed off it. I know how much more at peace I’ve been these last few weeks.
The longer I go away from the last time I crossdressed, the easier I feel it it will be and the better I will feel over the longer term – but with an acknowledged period of six to eight weeks having passed, that also tells me that it isn’t long enough to say I’m over it. But the eyes still have it.