Six weeks into this whole crazy journey [Has it only been six weeks? Wow!] and I still haven’t found an equilibrium in my life. I thought I could ease gently into crossdressing, but it’s not working out that way. Instead, I’m starting to feel a little like I’m losing control of it.
As I’ve mentioned previously, I began by taking advantage of Sundays, the one day I’m alone in the house, to indulge in dressing. But very quickly, that wasn’t enough; and now I am actually spending the first hour of so of my day, while my wife and kids are still asleep, en femme. I wake up at 5am, and in the basement, in the dark, I’ve begun putting on my women’s clothes. I spend that first hour eating breakfast, catching up on the news, and ironing my work clothes … all partially or fully dressed, before I force myself to strip down for a quick shower and then off to work. It’s almost compulsory. I wake up, I go downstairs, and I slip into a skirt.
My wife knows about my dressing, but I’ve still kept it hidden from her; and I’ve been lucky so far, in that there’s been no early wake-ups, so no child or wife out of bed at 5:30 and catching me dressed. But I know that, by doing it when they’re in the house, I’m pushing my luck. There’s going to be an uncomfortable moment in the near future. But I can’t help it; it’s something I need when I wake up in the morning.
And then there’s my nails and my hair. I have not cut either since the day I decided to start this. My hair is shaggy but can be slicked back; on the other hand (or hands! <rimshot!>), my nails are now at about the outer extent of what would be considered socially acceptable for a man. I’ve been trying to keep them neatly filed, but they’re still something I can’t hide at work. At this length I might be looked at as a little eccentric, but I can work that into my professional persona. [The gloss nail hardener I’ve been keeping on them might be a little more of a stretch.] No one has said anything yet, and I don’t know how I will respond when they do. But I can’t bring myself to clip them. I like them this long. There’s a part of me that wants to let them keep growing!
Add to that my now mostly constant underdressing and my subtle addition of a few feminine items to my casual wardrobe, and I just don’t know what my new normal is anymore. It seems like dressing is slowly creeping into all the gaps in my life, all the moments I have to myself, all the nooks and crannies where I can do it without anyone noticing or commenting or judging. It’s insidious but invigorating; invasive yet necessary; both wonderful and terrible.
I’m seeing a therapist for the second time on Monday, and I’m hoping to bring this up with her. Because it’s really starting to feel uncontrollable. It’s straining at the very edges of the container I’ve been trying to keep it in, and it’s beginning to leak out into my real life. That puts me at risk of exposure … and that scares the Hell out of me.