I’ve been promising a blog entry along these lines for a while, but the truth of the matter is that I’ve been building up to even laying some words down for this entry as well as finding other things to talk about in the meantime.
I have mused on many occasions as to how long I’ve been a crossdresser. When chatting on line, it has been a frequent question asked by others. Well, that and those such as “What made you start? “ Do you wear women’s clothes over your lingerie?”, “Have you ever worn clothes on top of your lingerie?”, ‘Does your wife know?” and perhaps one of the most popular: “Yours or the wife’s?”.
The answers to those questions are ‘I don’t know’, ‘No’, ‘Only once or twice and it’s not really for me’, ‘No’, and – well, it’s depends on what I’m wearing – it’s either mine or from the wife’s never worn collection.
There are markers in my life that inform me how long I’ve been crossdressing – secretly – the term is ‘closeted’ I have come to understand. Whilst I won’t go into detail, I can turn the clock back at least ten years, and if I’m brutally honest, it’s probably longer than that.
In fact, having stopped typing for a while to consider the more precise facts, I’d say it was 11 years – which is not far off my estimate. There are little moments in life, quite ordinary, everyday sort of stuff during which time I remember being crossdressed underneath male clothing as well as at home too, amongst them, key stages and moments in life – you know the sort of things.
But before I go on, let’s go back to get to more minutiae of the detail. The memories are cloudy, but from my childhood, I vaguely remember dressing up in clothes from the grandparents’ ‘dressing up’ box but I don’t remember in exactly what. It was what kids and their siblings did back then amongst other conventional, less technical things. I also vaguely remember (in secret) trying on some of my Mother’s clothes although again, I don’t remember exactly what, but what I do know is, it didn’t really last long anyway or happen frequently at all. Nor do I ever remember reaching any conclusion as to what I got out of it.
I suppose I was an average youth. I had a few lads mags stored away in a place I never considered my mother would find them, although she probably did find them. I remember getting off on Inge from Pinner in an edition of perhaps one of the more classier top shelf mags, but in my innocence, thought that Inge was some Scandinavian beauty from a place in Scandinavia called Pinner. It certainly seemed far more exciting as a train of thought!
From then on, there’s no real clarity on my path towards becoming a crossdresser. I certainly didn’t crossdress before I left home. I wasn’t doing it when I got married but some way, somehow, along the way, I started. But I don’t think I started because I was missing something else from my life. This was just another facet of my life and I had to embrace it or let it embrace me.
I will freely admit to buying lingerie ‘for the wife’, over the years, both on-line and on the high street, and very genuinely so, but equally, I also later remember buying lingerie ‘for the wife’ but knowing that it would actually be for me or worn by me too.
It has been a long while since I bought her anything – a couple of Christmases ago I suppose – the reason (other than the chosen shop not having her size and I had to take the bra and knickers back for a refund) is that she just doesn’t wear anything other than day-to-day bra and knickers – never has – nor would it occur to her to do so – apart from on a blue moon of a blue moon of a blue moon of a …well you get the idea. And usually, on those very rare occasions, hanging large in my mind despite the intimacy was the thought of how much I had in fact worn the item however nice it was to see her in it – but even then, there was one vital piece of clothing missing – stockings / suspenders. She’s not into them but I am. It does make me wonder why she has belts in her lingerie drawer as I’m sure I didn’t buy them, although one of them I may have done for probably completely bizarre reasons.
Generally, the lingerie items that she has languish in a bottom drawer or a wardrobe and there’s an element of almost military level strategy being applied when something of the selection becomes an outfit of choice for me, i.e. things go back as near as damn it where they were, cami-suspenders hanging in the correct way and order from a coat hanger in the wardrobe, heels put back as they were, g-strings washed and hung somewhere secret to dry before being returned from whence they came at some point later. As she is adjudged never to go in those drawers, the items are never discovered as missing, which makes things easier all round before, during and after. The stockings, not something she has, and therefore being mine are secreted in the man cave until they need replacing.
This week, having always been searching for answers but rarely finding them, I have stumbled across a few blogs that seek to answer the age old questions as to what a crossdresser gets out of crossdressing and why they do it. I’ll snip a few key elements out for a future blog entry (that’s if I can find them again!) but for now, back to my timeline.
In truth, I don’t know how, why or when I started. A lot of water has gone under the bridge since 2005 when I conclude I started to crossdress. Why lingerie only? Why not the full crossdress?
I think I see lingerie as being something I would want to see whilst I’m wearing it and covering it up almost seems to be a waste. Addicted to appearing on line in my finery, equally, there have also been occasions when I’ve worn it under PJs and a dressing gown just for me. I know I’m wearing it and having had sight of the fact, including the odd sneaky peak before covering up again, I’m then content at just knowing and of course, feeling that I’m wearing it.
I’ve worn it to work in an act reportedly described as ‘underdressing’ but until my return to crossdressing in October 2016 after almost twelve months off, hadn’t done so (for probably all the right reasons) since October 2009.
Why am I a crossdresser? That’s a different question to why I started and there’s a bit more clarity now. I have a transgender relative. I won’t go into too much detail, but it won’t go into too much detail and give anything away to say that it has caused and continues to cause a fair old bit of family disharmony. What I can say about it is that I used metaphorical smoke and mirrors to deal with it. When my relative ‘came out’, I was, completely separately, already a crossdresser and had been for a time but when I started, I had no idea about them and any thoughts they had about their true feelings.
I was beginning to find methods of hair removal, and so were they but, in discussion, the pretense was solely one of for ‘manscaping’ reasons and that was it. The actual facts were that we were on completely separate, undisclosed journeys with our feminine sides, completely unbeknown to each other.
The family are dealing with their transgender member in all the ways you can imagine. Some accept, some don’t and won’t – that’s just the way it is. Everyone is entitled to their stand point but people must still be allowed to be who they want to be even though it might come at a cost.
In all that time, my relative and I have been on our own separate paths (for a long time as it stands) and we continue to be. But whilst she is ‘out’ and blossoming into her new life, transitioning and developing in all ways that she has seemingly always wanted, that is not my desire to any extent. I am happy with who I am, I have no desire to transition, but I do have a desire to remain (albeit secretly), in touch with my feminine side through my crossdressing in lingerie.
Consider this. I continue to blend in as part of the family, day to day, week to week, month to month, year to year, family event to family event. They take pride in the things I do and I merely fit in with things, keeping under the radar as a general rule whilst the family continue to adjust to one member being transgender and all of the furore it seems to cause.
I have no intent to declare that I am a crossdresser. I can’t anyway as that would be the end of life as I know it. I must remain firmly in the closet – as I have done for over a decade. I’ve done it for this long and according to what I’ve read on line, crossdressers can remain closeted for three times that, or more. That inner most secret never comes out to anyone (even those closest to them) whilst ever they live. (Although it worries me that should I have to leave this life suddenly, that I wouldn’t be around when things begin to be found and what stress that would cause – but that’s not something I should really worry about right now I suppose!)
Imagine the confusion anyway and the misunderstanding if I did fling the closet door open, climb out with a large hammer and smash it to smithereens and just open up. Just because I am a crossdresser, it doesn’t make me any different as to who I am and who I appear to be to those close to me. It is just a side that they don’t know about – not even those I am closest to, but it’s not as easy as that is it, much though in an ideal world, it should be.
What we have here is plain and simple. Genetics. Something in the way that both I and my relative were made has made us the way we are. It’s no one’s fault – our parents didn’t do anything wrong, there was no issue with the way we were brought up. We weren’t made to dress in clothes of the opposite sex, no dis-satisfaction at having boys in the family etc.- we had a good upbringing (perhaps slightly strict at times but that’s not necessarily a bad thing) and our family has always been a tad dysfunctional as are many these days, but that’s it.
But perhaps most interestingly of all, is that our paths through life have always been and continue to be separate, yet have such similarities at the same time. Interesting isn’t it? In previous years, it troubled me – I suppose – and led me to try and seek answers where there were no questions in the first place but I’m long since over that.
My relative lives elsewhere, away from the nucleus of the family, and has done for a while, so there has been no influence from me on them and them on me. It’s just genetics – we’re wired similarly only different.
There. I’ve been meaning to write about that for a while. Why I am a crossdresser? Because, as you probably could have told me before I even wrote this and in fact, as many have told me before during on-line chats, you can’t change the way you as it’s the way you are. For me, after some periods away from crossdressing, I have become ever more mindful of the fact that I need it and it is part of me.
There are times when I’m not happy with myself as per my last more dis-satisfied blog entry, but some time away from it all and the application of some control usually helps put me back on the ‘right’ path, whatever that is. Just within the last 24 hours, I have dressed again, contentedly, albeit going on line again but I still did it for me in my own personal space and time but with control applied. And I enjoyed it too.
Time to pull the closet door shut once more. Thanks for reading. Until the next time…