I thought as much – it occurred to me just the other day that it must be around 12 months since I started blogging and as if I needed clarity, the mechanics of WordPress confirmed as much.

April 16th 2015 – my first ‘coping’ blog entry was posted.  There are occasions where I’ve written blogs on the move, such has been the need, and I still remember whiling away time at public transport stations waiting for a connection whilst tapping away on my smartphone.

Equally, there have been a few hours spent where I am right now, in my home office, midnight oil being proverbially burnt, laying my thoughts down.

I was going to write a blog entry imminently, so it’s a coincidence that it happens to be virtually on the anniversary of my first set of ramblings.

It has occurred to me that it had been a while since I had last written a blog. The last blog ‘proper’ was on March 14 – the others since have been merely answering ‘survey’ questions from elsewhere, so that’s a month.

Have I thought about crossdressing? Honestly – yes but hardly at all, and that’s partially because I’ve had distractions galore, but also because, psychologically, I have been able to remind myself of the length of time that has past since I last cross dressed – early November to be precise.

I’ve suffered cold turkey, I’ve wobbled but haven’t fallen off the proverbial wagon.  There have been a few moments where I’ve felt that I needed something to alleviate the stresses and strains of a busy life, and for a merest of moments, I’ve contemplated whether I might do so by crossdressing, then told myself that I would not as that would ‘undo’ the ‘good’ work.

Just the other day, I caught sight of one of the wife’s red bras hanging casually on a hook in the bedroom.  Just for a merest of moments, a flicker in my mind asked whether I should put it on.  Then – *BANG*, the reminder that it would undo a great deal of good work if I did slammed in and besides, I didn’t really know what I was hoping to achieve by putting the bra on, fastening the clasps and adjusting it, when I’d got absolutely nothing else to wear in that fleeting moment.  It was a nonsense, and the moment passed with the ‘success’ clock still ticking.

I do my bit around the house, as we all should, and, regularly the last to leave the house of a morning, I make the bed in the peace and tranquility of the bedroom, frequently doing so in only my own underwear.  Occasionally, I’m at the wife’s side of the bed and for a fleeting moment, I recall the frequent delving in to pull out a suspender belt, bra, panties or g-string as part of a bigger dress up.

On the other side (or for that matter, either side), whilst tucking the bed down, I catch a glimpse of myself in the full length mirror and recall the many moments where I’d appreciated and admired the view, or used it as a way of getting things straight, the wardrobe containing the cami-suspender sets or baby dolls and how I’d pick and pluck one out, being careful to put them back in the same way once I’d done.

I remembered the peace and tranquility that had to apply when I was crossdressing.  Having the TV or radio on, or any noise for that matter, just wasn’t on.  Crossdressing was a deeply personal act and silence was a necessity.

I’ve contemplated where I am with my crossdressing from time to time.  Have I stopped for good?  Will I start again at some point?  Is there any way of all out, final recovery?  I’ve blogged about fearing a relapse whilst being confronted with my favourite black lacy hold up stockings whilst in the home and hardware store for other daily essentials before telling myself to stop being so ridiculous – of course I wasn’t going to suffer a relapse.

However, the fear of relapse had some foundation. There were moments, fully blogged about in the past, where I’d been able to avoid ‘that’ aisle but equally so, there had been moments where I hadn’t and it was just going to happen.

But time has ticked on since early November 2015, and as I’ve said before, for every day that has passed, that’s another day that has gone by since I last crossdressed.

Or did I?  No – I didn’t but that didn’t stop me playing along with an assumption that I was wearing a ladies’ g-string today.  A house all to myself led to me stripping naked, doing a spot of upstairs tidying before jumping into the shower and then having a shave.

Having towelled down, I liberally allowed the towel to drop to the floor and duly sat at my PC, logged into my cam-site of choice and busied myself with other things unless someone came on and wanted to chat.  I decided I’d cover up though and pulled on a g-string – one of my new ones.

I did a spot of carefree flirting with those who dropped by, I answered questions honestly.  There were a few delayed responses from those on the other end, many, it seemed had elected to read my blog and were very complimentary.  Having switched various elements of my presence off, including galleries and profiles, followers and ‘likes’ some time ago, it was quickly concluded that I was a crossdresser – my Avatar gave it away anyway.

To hell with I thought.  Let’s show them some more of me in my historic glory.  I realised that I could not only switch on the profile images but also the gallery of live web cam sessions.  Only, the site wouldn’t let me do the latter – the more explicit images, posing here, posing there, so those who were curious saw the four gallery stills until I turned them off again later – titilation and flirting over and done with, numerous changes from one g-string to another and some more erotic, aroused moments.

I was appearing on line, I was wearing mens’ g-strings but I allowed conclusions to be made otherwise whilst the attention was sustained.  There were no female visitors, only men, but somehow, I didn’t care.

But there was no overstepping the mark, no wandering anywhere near debauchery, this was merely flirting my sexuality on line.  I found myself apologising on the odd occasion for my at least partial hirsutedness but excusing myself that it would be addressed shortly.  Intimately, growth is little, elsewhere, there’s enough to warrant a full body wax imminently and I look forward to it.

However, previous body waxing sessions have been with one sole intention – to drape soft sensuous lingerie on and it had to be all done as quickly as possible so that I could throw myself into dressing and web-cam sessions.  More recently though, if my body has not been ready for a full waxing, either in whole or part, through necessity or recommendation, I’ve gone with it – it mattered not.

And it still doesn’t matter – but I love that ‘me’ time when I can be fully body waxed again.  Maybe the hair IS giving in at long last and I will get into a period where I’m having more weeks in between appointments.

I’m content – I know that there were two reasons why I wanted to have a fully body wax  – 1) because I dislike being hirsute 2) because my body looked better dressed in lingerie without hair.    Those two reasons still stand, because, if I chose to crossdress, my body would STILL Look better dressed in lingerie without hair.

For now, I have to admit that my web-cam session today came at the expense of doing a multitude of other things that I really could have done, should have done and wanted to do but I fancied a little ‘me’ time.  I thought to myself that, six months ago, upon ‘calculating’ that there would be an entire day available to myself, I’d have quite simply crossdressed – for as long as possible.

Truth be told, I’d only just finished my webcam session when the other half returned from being out for the day.  I ‘X’d out of the browser windows that were open, I threw on my jeans, t-shirt and socks and appeared as if I had been busying myself in tidying up a few things – including that towel I’d allowed to merely drop to the floor earlier.   For a merest of moments, there was though, panic  as the wife arrived home, but somehow, it was OK,  I’d not been crossdressing, I’d merely been being rather naughty being closed doors.

What I need to be careful of now, is NOT using up more arguably marginal time in locking myself away appearing on webcam in next to nothing like I have done today.  Today was a treat alright.

But as I caught sight of another of the wife’s bras casually hanging up in the bedroom today, I reminded myself that I’m STILL a recovering crossdresser.  I’ll not worry about whether I might relapse at some point, because, right now, I’m not about to relapse – that’s a worry for tomorrow – or the next day, or the next day…

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