I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again.  A quick scan through my blog history shows, quite clearly, that my postings are becoming few and far between and the stats are, at least partially as a result, on the slide.

So, where am I with my approach to crossdressing?  Let’s summarise.

1) Have I crossdressed since early November 2015?  No
2) Have I thought about crossdressing?
Have I thought about the subject matter? Yes.  Have I thought about planning to crossdress?  No.
3) Do I want to crossdress?
As I’ve said before, in some sort of bizarre, parallel universe – yes, but for the real world, it just isn’t going to happen, because I’m not going to let it happen and for a number of reasons, it just can’t and won’t.
4) Have I viewed any form of crossdressing on line? Yes. I have and I got a kick out of it.  Hell, I even wished it was me wearing it.

Written about several times before I suppose, the motivation to not crossdress is very much driven by a couple of factors.

Firstly, I remain hugely motivated by the fact that I have not crossdressed since early November 2015.  The longer the period goes on, the less inclined I am to ‘undo the good work’ as, above all, that would just be a darned shame.

There are times when I think how nice it would be to be cross dressed for a while, but the feelings I have about the aftermath are another huge motivator to not doing so.

I became discontented with myself for how much it took over my life, the 250% level of indulgence I had and the time it took up and as a result, the effect it had on the people around me – not that anyone ever knew because I remained firmly closeted up to when I last did crossdress.

Yes, I’ve sighed over the whole thing quite frequently, almost as I was under strict orders not to crossdress by someone – like being told by your parents when you were young that you must not do this, that or the other and you daren’t defy your parents as a result.

I remain very mindful that since I stopped crossdressing this time around, I know I have wobbled, I know I’ve had my moments, but in the main, I have remained on track.  My life has been filled with other things – work, hobbies, family, the other things and people that I neglected before.  I’ve found myself with other things to focus on – jobs around the house that make the place an even better place than it already is for example.

I’ve been places and I’ve done things that were great, fulfilling, memorable and even just plain old part of the norm.  Yes, daily grind can be a bind – repetitive journeys, early starts, late finishes, lots of things that need doing, often all at once, but these days, I enjoy doing it all.  It makes me get out of bed in the morning really.

But amongst all of that, there are stark reminders.  There’s not a lot specific to say here, but as I’ve said before, I somehow seem capable of torturing myself with reminders of places I’ve been where I knew that, at the time, I’d been crossdressing before under male attire.  Social network sites remind you of what you were doing last year, the year before that and so on.  In those scenarios, I was frequently on holiday or out somewhere, contenting myself with the break, but knowing that, when I was back, I’d be back in the proverbial crossdressing in lingerie saddle soon enough.

There have been moments when I’ve hit a rough patch, as if a spot of crossdressing would help take my mind of things.  Ordinarily, it would, it has done in the past – just what I needed etc.  Only there were all too frequent occasions when a tsunami of guilt set in afterwards – if not a tsunami, a fair old storm or at least some very strong waves.

Frantic tidy ups, rapid tidy ups, hiding things away, closing down browsers, meticulously putting things back where they’d been and even as far as doing all of that and then just having to go and check again – clumsy, forgetful, overly busy, forgetful too pre-occupied and usually the always in a rush type of imbecile that I am.  But there’s none of that now.

I will admit to two web cam sessions on my site of choice, one very recently, wearing nothing but a skimpy g-string.  The gallery that remains on line plus the Avatar very quickly enables those who drop by the broadcast to put two and two together and get a very firm four that I can be linked to wearing lingerie.  The viewer probably thinks that I do and I have played along with that, but in actual fact, it’s more like I did that do, yet appreciate and play along with the ruse – perhaps unfairly for the other parties!

This has led to conversations, many under what are called ‘PM’ (or ‘private messaging’) for some reason, where things get a little more frank and open than in the main chat window.  I’ve played along with the conversation.  I’ve admitted liking shots of one individual’s black stockings with red lacy tops worn by one crossdressing individual and finding it quite a turn on.  Things got a little erotic and exciting but having already told that individual that, in the event I disappeared quickly, this was not through rudeness, but necessity as circumstances changed from being home alone to NOT being home alone any more.  As it turned out, the other party was pre-briefed, fine about it for however long things continued, and was probably still not best pleased as the heat of the moment was quickly extinguished by an actual rapid end to my on-line session.

So, since November 2015, apart from one moment when I opened a wardrobe, felt the material of a long-standing favourite cami-suspender set and quickly closed the cupboard with a partially reluctant, partially reflective sigh, there has been no crossdressing, no looking at anything longingly, strategically etc.

As I said, I am still seemingly confronted with reminders.  At work, I still use the same toilets in which I’d once or twice adjusted stockings and suspenders, got changed etc.  On public transport, I’m still aboard the same vehicles in which I’d previously stood waiting for my stop on the way home, heart racing, stomach fluttering, eager to get home to strip off the masculinity and throw on the femininity.   The quiet bedroom on arrival at home these days still leads me to remember the very same ambience in which I’d crossdressed.

Even today, a necessary trip into the home and hardware store led me, almost – almost – to at least briefly gaze along the aisle where the black lacy top stockings are displayed.  There were however ulterior forces at work.  I was one ‘block’ too far up the store for starters and my disorientation path carried me around the other side where there was something I did want to buy.

Briefly, I seemed to be urging myself to just turn tail and go and have a look but then I came to my proverbial senses and merely marched for the till with everything I needed in my basket and nothing that I didn’t want and/or deemed that I shouldn’t buy.  Well done me – I told myself and headed for the public transport without a further thought,.

I could go on but the end result is the same.  I’ve not crossdressed, I’m not going to crossdress but my mind can wander and can be distracted in the same way it wandered and was distracted before – not that anyone knows or knew about it.

Life is OK.  Things are OK.  In general, I’m OK.  We all have our little foibles – our guilty pleasures.  I still appreciate crossdressing in lingerie – because that’s all I ever really wore and had a penchant for – and truth be told, I don’t mind looking at others doing so.

I write my own blog about crossdressing and I read and follow other crossdressers, 99% of which are fully crossdressers, living their life as a crossdresser, with understanding partners if they have them, trying to fit in as part of a world that doesn’t allow them to very easily or at all.  I have yet to find a blog from a person like me – I have been a crossdresser in lingerie only – no wish to change gender, go out as a woman etc.  Does that make me a fake, a fraud and a slur on genuine trans folk trying to be accepted?  Probably not because I know very clearly that there are people like me out there – their penchant is for lingerie only.

Crossdressing in lingerie is part of my life and it will forever be so as it has been for sometime – only it has been and is something that will forever remain in my mindset only  – locked away, a secret for no-one but myself.

Of course. I could crossdress – I could start all over again and to hell with it.  A previous blog entry summarised an occasion or two when I was still dressing that I reached a fairly reasonable conclusion that it was OK because I had it or at least was getting it under control and no-one was getting hurt.

Who was I fooling?  I didn’t have it under control – and another reason for not crossdressing now is because it took over my life, and my unwavering inability to assert control and do OTHER things too meant that, indirectly, other albeit unknowing people, were indirectly getting hurt because I could and should have given them more attention.

Since November 2015, I have been doing just that.  Doing the things that needed doing, including the people that deserved including.  This recovering crossdresser is still very much on track to be the recovered crossdresser.

Even hair growth doesn’t bug me in the same way it did before – when I absolutely had to be hair-free as much as possible so that I could satisfactorily crossdress.  It grows, I dislike it, it will be removed, I will be hair-free for a time, and then I won’t be again until the next time.  Que sera, sera.

However, what exactly is the definition of ‘recovered’?  As people have frequently said to me on-line, you can’t recover because that’s the way you are and there’s no changing that.  I’ve frequently told myself that I would be determined to prove them wrong.

So far, so good.  No – in all honesty, I will forever be recovering. – recovering from the inability to control my urges enough to do other things.  Everything in moderation?

Indeed – except crossdressing it seemed and it seems.   That leaves me with the very existence of this blog.  They are lengthy entries I grant you.  I log in, I view others postings, and apart from a very unusual spike a few weeks back where stats took off one particular day without any involvement from me – the stats have tailed off.

I’ve not been posting for starters but from the kind of blogs that could have been torn out of a top-shelf magazine or steamy novel, I’ve entered a period of merely reminiscing – clarifying that, yes, I’ve still not crossdressed.  And as a result, other than those casually searching around for the same subject matter, the stats have dropped.

The fact that not many people read my blog entries now is something I take as quite a disappointment, but I also take that as a good thing.

But whilst I’ve not blogged about having actually slid into some delightfully sensual lingerie, I have still thought about it, and in a parallel, arguably selfish universe, under some unwritten, unknown circumstances, I would actually crossdress because I’d like to do so, just for me and because and like it.  However, this is the real world and you only get one shot at it.  I’m finding it difficult from time to time, but I’m making a good go at it.

Am I over and done with crossdressing?  Well, I’ve not felt this way before, so perhaps I am.  For those that think that you can’t change who you are and how you’re wired, it would seem that I’m proving a few folk wrong – tough though it can be at times.

Thanks for reading.

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