Over the course of the last few days, I found myself out with family and friends in an upmarket shopping centre.

Having taken advantage of the on-site car park, the exit led us straight onto part of the centre from which directly opposite was a branch of a well known international lingerie chain.

Instantly, I was drawn to the window display in which stood two mannequins, dressed in a black bra, stockings and suspenders .  Hanging behind that was a very large shop window poster of a model wearing the very same garments.    As has happened before, this lit a proverbial spark in my dormant crossdresser mindset but our footfall naturally took us away leaving nothing more than a fairly fleeting chance to soak up the imagery, but soak it up I did.

Parts of the group were fractured in various locations, some already in a shop of choice, another couple needing a call of nature but I feigned the opportunity to go and have a wander myself and set off back down the walkway but making a clear b-line for that shop nearby.

Having identified a conveniently placed seating area more or less immediately outside that very shop window that first grabbed my attention, I took the opportunity to drink in every inch of the imagery in front of me, but the focus was most definitely on the suspenders, the suspender belt, the panties and the stockings – how the suspender ran down the top of the mannequin’s (I’ll use an apostrophe even though it wasn’t a real living thing!) leg.

The mannequin was not wearing a skimpy looking suspender belt – no this was of a nice full, waist covering suspender belt of which I’ve never worn before, the panties were most definitely panties rather than a thong or g-string whilst I can’t really tell you much about the bra, other than it matched and was black!  No, no.  My focus was defintely lower down that that – stockings and suspenders were and have always been a passion.

The moments of drinking in the images emanating from the shop front window were the magnet.  Not once did I cast an eye inside the shop, to the other shop window or anywhere else – I was somewhat mesmerised it seems.

However, despite making the most of the viewing time available, the time was in fact, fleeting.  The other members of the shopping party were soon back and with it being impossible nor un-necessary to dwell any longer, we moved on.

It being a sizeable shopping centre, I was constantly, much as I ever am, on the scan for some lingerie eye-candy but there wasn’t any, nor did our path return to the exact entrance/exit from the car park.  I had however, relished the moment when it had been presented.

I’ll be honest.  The last week or so has seen more serious consideration given to crossdressing.  The art, the items, the feeling, the wanting but also the very evident reminder that I had in fact donned nothing of the sort since November of last year.

I have very much contemplated whether now would be a good time to start again – the closest I think I have come to starting again since last year, yet also so far away from actually doing so.

My blogs offer a timeline for others to follow and in studying what blog entry people have been read, I take a look myself.  These occasional dabbles offer what are, I guess, useful reminders of the progress made in NOT crossdressing.

To continue with my honesty here, it has not been plain sailing personally over the last few weeks.  I have commented on how the stresses and strains of every day life and the daily grind have sent me in search of escape once more – a psychological downward cycle playing on my mind – all too frequent occasions of sending myself off to bed thinking about crossdressing per se.

My sole method of escaping before was by crossdressing – everything from the thought and planning of doing so,  to the art of dressing and the actual experience of wearing – for however short or long a period.

Wobbles offer moves towards relapse but also away back on to what has been the path for the best part of a year now.   A weekend to myself is coming up and I contemplated how, before, I had utilised such opportunities to dress immediately on returning home and stay as such for as long as possible until I really had to return to what I used to call ‘civvies’.

I have, this week, rationalised that there have been many things I have been doing, how beneficial they have been to do and how many more things there are still to be done and could be done.  Those more rational thoughts have helped me veer away from somewhere it is unlikely I would value that much quite soon after going there.

I would so like to, yet for all the relevant (I won’t call them ‘right’ necessarily) reasons, I know that I cannot, must not and right now, will not.

And of course, the other motivator?  Hair.  It’s back with a vengeance in places I find most irritating but less so and less so irritating elsewhere (don’t get me started on ingrowing hairs!) – but it has a short shelf life as it really ought to be realising after so many sessions of wax removal and it’ll be off once more soon enough.

That battle continues, as does the other.   I continue to watch out for and enjoy another opportunity to open another box of lacy clad eye candy…

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