OK, let’s make things perfectly clear from the off – nothing has changed.  I have not crossdressed.  In fact, truth be told, I can’t see myself ever doing so again as things stand.

It’s been an odd week. Nothing really gelled day to day, public transport connections were frequently missed and I even had to drive to work on one occasion.  Work itself kind of stuttered along without any real direction, but outside of work, I’ve had what might be described as an ‘coming to one’s senses’ moment.

Historically, I once blogged about a habit of all out indulgence in crossdressing, then, as if I’d had my fill, I stopped again.  Stop – binge – repeat.  In beginning to write the blog entry this time around, I came up with the title only to then discover that I’d actually used it before.

The difference this time is that I have had a sudden realisation that, this week, I had merely needed to get urges, inquisitiveness, web browsing, a cam session etc out of my head, to a peak where relief was found satisfactorily.

I used a rare bit of me time to get on line this week.  My last blog went into a bit of detail as to what I got up to but in the aftermath, having reflected on and indulged in the the same level of debauchery (apparently enjoyable at the time) that finally stopped me crossdressing back in November last year, I just had to go and edit that blog to remove the now self-offending material, unable to bring myself to accept how I had sought my own sexual pleasure.

Going about the daily grind this week, it suddenly occurred to me that I had not been thinking about crosssdressing, browsing web sites, looking at lingerie, visiting my newly created Twitter page (and declaring how much I’d like to be wearing a particular piece or pieces of lingerie) or anything remotely along those lines.

Having visited the trusty home and hardware store this week, defiantly looking (but only looking) at the box of lacy topped hold up stockings on display, I had then gone home and had somewhat of a proverbial blow out – whatever it was, I got it out of my system, rid myself of pent up frustration caused by the rigours of life, the daily grind etc, had some ‘me’ time’ of sorts, beat myself up a little for the later concluded extent of debauchery and suddenly, GerryLynn was parked again, the other part of me was ‘back in the room’.

What now then?  Using the commute to contemplate life, as many of us do to while away mundane journeys, I told myself that I didn’t think that I’d ever return to crossdressing and, without finding an answer, asked why I would.

That’s odd because in the days previous, I’d blogged about how, with total futility, I’d been trying to work out how a parallel universe might co-exist in which it would be OK to crossdress, how it might be OK, and under what circumstances it would or wouldn’t matter.   All of this was and remains a nonsense.

Having stopped crossdressing once before, vowing never to start again, after some time, I did start again, so I remain cautious of becoming complacent with the number of months since I last crossdressed.

Yes – I like it, but too much, and as I couldn’t indulge my fetish in moderation, it had to stop and so it did.  I had overstepped my self created mark, by some margin, finding a new depth to plunge to.

In any case, even if I was able to moderate it (which I couldn’t), there are less opportunities and circumstances to crossdress at the moment anyway – although that, by itself, would suggest a further element of moderation would it not?   My body is seemingly on a collision course with the look that I deem unsuitable to be crossdressed anyway – a patchwork of ‘before, during and after’ waxing, some bits longer than others, some bits breaking through, some patches of little or no growth.  The circumstances of life don’t fit to crossdress anyway.  Karma?  Fate?

Somewhere, in the darkest recesses of my mind, I can picture myself going through the art of crossdressing, just as I used to.   I’d enjoy it – of that I’m sure.   But that would be in that previously referred to parallel universe – one in which I’d be able to teleport out having pressed the pause button on real life, stepping into another dimension in which it woud be safe and OK to indulge.

But there’s no parallel universe – only that karma and fate referred to above.  To ape but not cleanly echo a Whitney song, ‘It’s not right, and it’s not OK’.   My mindset has been focussed on doing the ‘other’ things I target, the other things that need doing.

But this is merely because I got my ‘fill’ earlier in the week.  I may reach a point where I seek my ‘fill’ once more, but if and when that happens, I may merely need to take a second look before I go headlong into something I may later regret.  Only, that won’t actually be crossdressing, but it will be connected to it.

No. I’m STILL the recovering crossdresser.

Now where’s that Twitter feed I created?  There’s a blog entry that needs promoting…

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