Through necessity, there have been a few days recently where there was merely no reason, need or desire to crossdress.

This week though, there was, and I did the usual – you know – donned an outfit of choice and put myself before my webcam once more.  Compliments came my way but this only served to drive the inner exhibitionist onwards some more.  I was asked if I had any other outfits and having been dressed in blue, changed to an identical outfit but in red.

However, watching the clock, I was aware of a need to get off to the day job in good time and duly did so – a little nod towards a need to apply some control – something I’ve mentioned on more than one occasion before.

The need to get off to work in good time was though, encapsulated in a plan hatched to underdress once more.  Having been mourning the loss of a tried and trusted, and clearly well-worn suspender belt after a plastic hook sheared off and left the whole belt fit for one thing – returning to the same place it came from in the wife’s lingerie drawer – but otherwise, nothing.   Still, there was another deep-set lacy suspender belt which is not exactly suitable for attaching to the only stockings I had – lacy hold ups, and determined that I would wear the belt, hold-ups, g-string and black bra.

A need to return to civvies in time for the journey home led me to appreciate the at least partially waxed body and draping of lingerie in a full-length mirror to such a point that I sought relief.   That was a big mistake.   If only I’d have merely undressed, got dressed in the outer wear again and gone home, that would have been fine.

Instead though, I reached the same point at which I’d been before, somewhat perplexed, feeling flat and on one heck of a come down (no pun intended!).   I was almost on auto pilot on the journey home, in a negatively reflective trance almost and on arrival at home later, did what I did before – kept the man bag firmly in the car, not to see the light of day until the following morning.

That following morning the bag was recovered from the car, but only to return items from whence they came, mindful of a need to launder when a convenient opportunity arises.   I know that I’m not alone to suffer having sought relief but still, crossdressing is, for me, not solely or always a sexual thing.  It also makes me feel far more calm, reflective and comfortable but yes, it IS a sexual thing at times too, evidenced by the exhibitionism of putting myself before a web cam.

After that flat spot, for that day, I became disinterested in crossdressing and did not plan nor had a clue as to when I might do it again.  I was even thinking that it’s really not worth it at all – always on high alert, meticulously planning and being careful about my decade plus long time in the closet but personally affected by a myriad of problems on my mind, not many of them within my control.  Honestly, what’s another six or twelve months if it’s been that long in the closet eh?   Right now – that’s not something I’m considering.

I really don’t like the negativity I end up feeling about the whole thing at the moment.

Still, having had a day away from things, the following day saw me achieving a first – donning a bra and matching panties (only) from the wife’s collection – I’d never worn them before – but apart from inserting the breast forms, that was the only thing I was wearing.  It was nice, stimulating, exciting and once again, I went on-line – like a moth to a flame, almost as if something was controlling me to do it – an unstoppable act.

One of my regular cam visitors arrived late to the session but quite genuinely asked me how I was.  I replied that I was quite up and down and really ought to get moving for the day yet there I was – still.  I was encouraged not to be late and on that note, closed the session.  However, I still somehow found myself quite stimulated from certain elements of the cam experience that time around and yet again, despite everything I’d felt over the preceding 48 hours, I sought relief.

Why?  Did I not learn anything from the preceding 48-hour period?  Bang. Almost immediately, the wave of negativity crashed over me.  I quickly undressed, pulled on my work clothes and got myself off to work for what was, in all honesty, one of those days.  Everything irritated me, work pressures, a mind beset by other non-crossdressing related concerns and it was not until the afternoon that I was somewhere near feeling better again.

But not about crossdressing.  What is it all for really?  Why does it control me so?  Why do I let it control me so?  Despite everything I’ve said before, apart from underdressing to work, crossdressing merely bogs me down in irresistible webcam sessions – apart from the very rare occasion when I do underdress at home.  Do I seek some sort of escapism from the trappings and stresses and strains of life?  Undoubtedly.

If nothing else, at this point, (and perhaps it is the ‘other’ things on my mind) after those two experiences this week, I have become even more detached from crossdressing, even less aware of when I might do so again and even if I might ever again.  I am now contemplating raiding the hidey holes but for no other reason than to pull out my own garments, shove them in a box and throw them into a more inaccessible point in the house where they are not easily at hand and, for me at least, more out of mind.   As stockings are such a draw, if I can’t access them, despite the bra and panties combo worn the other day and however nice that was, perhaps I won’t be so tempted.

There are so many other things that I could be doing frankly, places I could be etc.  After all, why do something if it ultimately takes you to a point at which you’re unhappy?   Perhaps this is a blip?    I know I’ve been here before, but it would appear that I’ve made little progress since stopping crossdressing for the best part of a year from November 2015 to October 2016.  I don’t really think I’m any further forward right now.

It’s time for a long hard look at things – myself included and that starts now.

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