Sixty to the Present
Or — Where do we go from here?
Well, in some respects things have changed significantly...
My lingerie has been moved from the basement to the bottom dresser drawer in our bedroom. I wear panties under my male clothing most of the time. As items are worn they are put in the laundry basket along with everything else. My wife cares for them as if they were her own. I have said repeatedly that as they are mine I would launder them, but she insists that they are no different than hers and thus there is no reason to treat them differently. Whoever does the laundry, (and it's usually her), does it all.
I am allowed to wear my wife's clothes. That is, I am allowed to wear those items that fit, and a significant amount of her considerable wardrobe does. Except for underwear and shoes the clothing in all of the pictures of me on this site are hers. Each time I dress I ask for permission to wear her clothes, and so far she has never refused. However, she insists that when I go out the clothes I wear must look coordinated. Since she still doesn't want to see me "dressed" I must lay out the items I want to wear on the bed for her inspection. If they do not look right she makes suggestions as to which items would look best. As a result I know that when I go out I will look good from the clothing viewpoint.
At times we go together when shopping for her clothes. She often considers whether something she wants to buy will look good on me as well as on her. How she can tell without seeing the item on me I really don't know, but it means so much to me to know that she cares that much. I keep telling her that whether something will look good on me or not is not a factor, but still she does it. When I step out en femme I know I am well dressed. That gives me a lot of confidence which, I am told, is more than half the battle in passing.
One evening this past winter, while walking back to my car which had been parked several blocks away, I became part of a large group of young people who were headed in the same direction. There must have been at least twenty of them, and I was right in the middle of the group. No one took any notice of me as I walked along with them. I was just another woman. What a thrilling, uplifting experience that was.
I go out regularly now. I try to attend all of our Gender Metaphor social events and continue to learn a lot from women like Michelle. I go out on my own as well, sometimes for shopping and sometimes just for entertainment. I also meet with other T-girls as the occasion arrises.
Still, I am not free to be dressed at home, to really be myself at all times. I am the "man of the house" and am never allowed to be otherwise. My wife is just not comfortable with the feminine side of me. However we talk a lot more about transgenderism than we used to and in the process are becoming more open, and therefore more comfortable, about it. In the past I was asked to "go slow" with cross-dressing and all that goes with it, and I have been doing my utmost to comply with her wishes. I had been introducing new things a little at a time to give her a chance to become comfortable with that before moving on. That has led to some difficult times, as it seemed to her that she was being hit with one little surprise after another; wondering where it would all end. She no longer wants it that way, and she has asked me for the whole picture. Where is it that I am going with all this?
Where am I going with "all this"? That's a good question. I think I know, and yet…
Well, for one, I would like to dress in whatever clothing suits my mood at the time. That's what she does. Why shouldn't I? She wears pants when she wants, skirts when she wants — whatever she wants when she wants. Is it so unreasonable that I should want to be able to do the same? At the moment the answer to that question is still "yes".
She goes out dressed whichever way she wants, depending upon her mood and the circumstances. Is it so unreasonable that I should want to be able to do the same? At the moment the answer to that question is still "yes".
Before she heads out for a social occasion she always has me check her dress, her hair, and in general how she looks. Is it so unreasonable that I should want the same? At the moment the answer to that question is still "yes".
When she steps out of the house she doesn't worry what the neighbours will think. In fact I doubt that she even gives it a fraction of a second's thought. Is it so unreasonable that I should want the same? At the moment the answer to that question is still "yes".
So, what do I really want? All the above, please — and then some!
I would like to have all my facial hair removed by electrolysis. It would be "heaven" not to ever have to shave my face again. I would like to have nice almond shaped fingernails. Ooh, what luxury! But I still want to be able to comfortably, and confidently, navigate the male world with which I am so familiar, and in which I have lived successfully for over sixty years. I want it all. I want it all. Is that unreasonable? You know the answer to that as well as do I.
So I must settle for reality. And just what is that?
Well, at the moment the reality is that at home I must dress as a man, at least from outward appearances. That is, I must dress according to western society's rules as to what a man should wear. I must look like a man whether I am feeling feminine at the time or not. Around the neighbourhood I must always appear as a man. I must not go out en femme until it is reasonably dark, so that the neighbours won't see that it is someone "strange" driving the car. When I am out en femme my wife worries about me. She worries that I might get hurt, that I might end up the target of a "gay bash", or get stopped by the police and have to identify myself. She insists that I phone home before coming home, regardless of the hour. It doesn't make sense to me, but if that is what she wants I do it.
That is the reality.
I would like to "come out" to my family and to my friends. I would also like not to have to worry about what the neighbours would think should I step outside the door en femme. Although those are frightening prospects I would like to do it. But I can't. I can't for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that neither my wife, nor I, are comfortable with ourselves as it pertains to cross-dressing and the expression of my femme self inside the house. If we are not comfortable with ourselves even in the privacy of our own home how can we achieve the confidence necessary to "come out" to others?
That, too, is the reality.