Sarahjanus's Blog

May 12, 2010

A day without dressing is like..?

Filed under: sexual identity, transsexual, transvestite — Tags: , , , — Sarah Michelle @ 9:36 pm

It’s like bad weather, overcast on the day of your picnic, cold and windy on the day of your outdoor event. Its one of those days when things don’t work right, the pieces don’t go together the way they should, the nut cross-threads on the bolt, the battery is dead when you try to start the lawn mower. Its nothing spectacular and it certainly isn’t insurmountable. It is just a day that isn’t right.

I’ve had these alien days before but it is only recently that I have been able to accurately identify the causes. Today, for a couple of reasons, I had to deny myself the opportunity to dress in women’s business attire. My cross-dressing is a secret from every-one so there are days when the risk seems more real. These are the days when I argue with myself. Do I listen to the little inner voice that tells me how risky getting dressed in my own house is, or do I ignore it and take the chance?

I work in a corner of the house. There is no direct view of me from any window but there is not much warning if someone comes through the door. It is a mad dash to the stairs and the privacy of a bathroom or a closet until I can get the clothes off. Some days I can live with the risk, some days I’m not even aware of it and some days, like today, it is an overpowering voice telling me that I can’t be sure where everyone is, that someone could come walking through the door at any moment and totally upset the apple cart of my life.

I can argue that such an event will be a blessing in disguise because once my secret is out, my wife is free to make an informed choice. I would be in a position to make an either-or offer to her. But having the secret out, particularly in such a surprise also raises the possibility that she will “kick my sorry ass to the curb” and tell all and sundry why she did. She would be well within her rights to do so.

I have always felt the allure of women’s clothing and I have always wrestled with my sexual identity. My wife “hooked up” with the facade of a big tough guy. She was never given the chance to decide whether or not she wanted to live with a “big tough guy” facade that hid a crossdresser. I keep my secret because it wasn’t part of the original deal. Asking her to come to terms with my cross-dressing now would be like asking her to….? What, make the relationship an open one so that we could date others or have other sexual partners, or is it more like a secret alcoholic surfacing? Probably more like an alcoholic surfacing.  And like an alcoholic, all the flags have been there all along. A lot of little things that didn’t fit in would probably make sense to her.

This isn’t where I expected to go with this narrative when I started it. I was going to write about feeling out-of-sorts because I couldn’t wear women’s clothing today, about how wearing the clothing brings balance to my inner self and a more positive attitude to my day, about my fear of getting caught struggling all day with my drive to plunge into the closet and emerge properly clothed. I want to be able to take my en femme clothes out of the boxes that they live in every day and hang them properly in my closet with my male clothes so that on any given day I can dress in the clothes that suit me best.

I am detached from reality. I live with the fantasy that I can dress up like a woman, go out into the public eye and go about my business. But that’s just not going to happen for a long list of reasons. It took me many years of rolling ideas around in my head to get to the belief that I want to be a woman. What remains to be figured out is whether I want to be a woman because I am wired that way or if I am trying to escape from what I see as an unsuccessful male personality. At 50 plus years of age, it’s probably a bit too late to come to these conclusions. The sad realization that I have lied to myself for so many years because I was never introspective enough to understand myself and never brave enough to follow my own thoughts and beliefs is almost enough to make me cry.

I will continue to conform to my physical image because I lack the courage to do differently. I realized that while I was travelling. Out on the road I could be anything I wanted. There were no employers out there to judge me. There was no career out there to be negatively impacted by my choices. There was no wife, no children, no grand-children, no parents to be affected by what I chose to do. And yet, I struggled with the desire to put on women’s clothes and go about my business. I feared the scorn of the unknown people around me, people who I will never see again, people who don’t know me. I wasn’t going to “swish” about town. I was simply going to wear the clothes that fit my body. I wasn’ going to put on make-up, wear breast forms and a wig to try to pass as a woman.

I just wanted to wear the clothes that feel like they fit on my body, that feel like they belong on my body, and I allowed a bunch of unknown people to deny me the opportunity. Certainly I had my moments in Thunder Bay and in Kenora but I failed to exploit an opportunity that will be a long time returning.

Shame on me for being cowardly.

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