The past few days have been something of another unique experience for me but in a way completely opposite to anything else.  In my last blog entry, I wrote how I had, after about a week of almost all-out indulgence, come to a point where I could simply take or leave crossdressing, concluding that it really wasn’t that important and having felt a bit – well – flat.

Although I have come out of that ‘flat’ feeling period, I’ve also entered what appears to be an apparently ‘normal’ period.  Having ordered some new white stockings the other day, the e-mail landed in my inbox letting me know that the package was available for collection but it didn’t really seem to matter to me either way.  Although I know that I can afford to leave it where it landed for a day or so, I almost contemplated not actually bothering at all!    Then I realised that as I’d paid for it, that alone was a viable reason for planning a pick up. More on that later.

Reflecting on the last week or so, I have acknowledged an almost hedonistic approach, an outpouring of unadulterated sexuality, a wanton craving to dress, read about dressing, write about dressing, follow on-line feeds, follow other on-line feeds and perhaps most critically of all – dressing and getting on-line – had all applied in a very short space of time.

Elements of the profile of my on-line webcam presence have been switched back on – previous images of cam sessions, additions of profile elements etc.  But here’s the thing.  Having spoken about a dreaded fear of being outed after dressing whilst doing some voluntary work (see a recent blog entry), this appears to have triggered a more rational view of things and my approach to crossdressing.

Following a web-cam session the other day, I was encouraged, very gently, very reassuringly, by someone I’d corresponded with for a while, not to go purging.  I vowed that I would not.   And frankly, right now – I will not – I have recently concluded that I needed my own very personal ‘me’ time, time that I could use to crossdress if I wanted to and most importantly of all, to do it just for me.

One of the recent realisations is that by going on cam, I am actually going against everything I set out to do when I stopped cross-dressing in November 2015.  Back then, other than the fact that everything else fell by the way side, nothing else mattered, things and people got neglected, I also became somewhat frustrated by the level of what I called ‘debauchery’ that I’d dropped to whilst on-line.  That outpouring of sexuality made me act, talk and behave so provocatively, was of a level I had been getting close to the other day and without much care at the time to be honest.

Yet, having asserted control towards the end of the session, having advised those watching the web-cam session that I really would have to get off to work and merely signing out, applying myself to another mundane working day led me into more of a path of ‘take it or leave it’ that I’ve recently referred to.

It is as if I’ve returned to crossdressing, indulged in a way that somehow, psychologically, has topped me right back up to the brim and having done that, I can return to the more every day me, a more controlled me, not hell-bent on wanton indulgence at every available moment and at the expense of everything else yet indulging when I wish to.

Acknowledging everything that has gone before, I am, right now, at that point where I really don’t need or want to crossdress – even though I know I could if I did.  I’ve recently done ‘other’ things that needed doing, I’ve had some social, down and family time, I’ve fully applied myself to the working day and left perusals of on-line blogs and feeds alone for a change – besides I’ve virtually used up all of my monthly credit on all of my network net time it seems!

Right now, I’m OK.  I’m not going to purge, I don’t have any urge to stop crossdressing again.  I don’t have any significant guilt about being a closeted crossdresser but I do have an urge to continue learning how to apply that control to which I’ve referred.

And that got me thinking that I really ought to think about not being so flagrant with things.  Pics have been posted etc, and although there has been one on a previous blog post, that gives no tell-tale signs as to who I am – the pic could be of anyone, anywhere, however, those elsewhere on certain pages do tend to show background room features, colour of wallpaper, carpet, positions of light-switches, hooks on doors – you get the picture (no pun intended).    On one of my sites of preference, the site, where given permission, automatically takes shots which it then posts as a gallery which you can only switch on or off – you cannot select the photos that are seen and not seen or edit them individually.

There again, background aside, I suppose that there is also the argument that what I am wearing and my body shape could mean I am easily identifiable to certain people.  Then again, perhaps it would only be a slim chance that two and two could be put together.  Or could it be that distinguishing marks – moles, birthmarks, scars etc – could prove to be my undoing?

No – no. I want control, and I realise that the way I have conducted myself over the last week or two has been somewhat flagrant and blatant, borderline careless perhaps.

Control will probably continue to be found along the way – in small steps.   Therefore, it’s time once more to realise the error of my ways and scale back a little – note to self!

However, there is the little matter of those white stockings I ordered that landed for collection recently.  Still in my more controlled, reflective mindset, the other morning, I reasoned that whether it be something covert or something else ordinary – whatever it was that I’d ordered, I’d done so using my hard-earned cash and I couldn’t just let it go to waste at the collection point, destined to be returned to sender.

This morning, I visited the collection point, picked up the jiffy-bagged, discreetly marked package for the attention of the daytime me, and stuffed it in my man bag where it stayed throughout the working day.   But there were no plans to pull out the new items from that jiffy bag – I will instead have no alternative but to secrete them somewhere for another day.

I will confess that, whilst on the journey home, waiting for the connection on the public transport, I did open the jiffy bag within my man-bag, just to see that there were contents inside.  Sure – I knew what they were, and I have absolutely no idea what possessed me to have a look when I knew what was inside!   That is merely another indication of the deviant tendencies, the borderline obsessive tendencies to absolutely have to do something – like I absolutely had to make sure that I put the order in for the said stockings before I could apply myself to other mundane working day the other day.

There was a somewhat humourous moment when I decided to secrete the jiffy bag in my car before returning home – it was a dark chilly evening, the car park lit only by the occasional lights.  Having opened the bag earlier, I was holding it by one end in between my car (parked backwards) and the one parked next door, standing at the back offside,  opening the boot and about to reach in, when I heard something fall to the floor.  I was holding the WRONG end of the bag and the two packages of stockings had fallen to the floor, out of sight of anyone but me.  I cursed at how careless I had been, assured myself that there had been nothing to see for anyone anyway, scooped things back up again, returned them to the jiffy bag and hid it away.   An amusing moment retrospectively, if not at the time!

Anyway, as I said – it is all about taking stock, reasserting control, finding a balance.  I’ve started crossdressing again – I have no intention to stop right now, merely to assert and learn to apply control and I recognise the signs of having not completely done so of late.

The strange apathy I have felt of late is perhaps more a case of me asserting that control rather than any loss of interest or that crossdressing was becoming the norm – although I’ve already blogged about concern over the latter.   Clearly, I’ve had my fix – I’ve binged on crossdressing for around a week or so, but now it’s time to let things settle.

It’s good to talk though.

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