A new wig

I bought a wig last week.  I had an opportunity to go into the city so while downtown I took advantage of it and went to WildSide. I didn’t expect to buy anything. I just wanted to look at what was offered. I had glanced at the on-line store but hadn’t taken the time to read the fine print. The lovely lady at the counter politely pointed out that the store wasn’t really set up for browsing and they didn’t encourage it. But, she was kind enough to indulge me. In short order I was looking at the wigs because I thought it was probably the next step in the progression.

What followed was an interesting exchange. I am fast approaching the upper end of middle age. My cross-dressing image is very conservative and (in my mind) age appropriate. The lovely lady wanted me to step out of myself and go for something that made a youthful and exuberant statement. I wanted something close to my natural hair color. We settled on a red-hued mid-length wig with bangs. I loved it on but I felt that my face was old and tired looking under the brightness of the wig. My face fits with my salt and pepper hair. Now I have to work harder at my make-up.

Those who have been reading these entries know what my struggles are for the summer. The wig buying day was a red-letter day for a couple of reasons. First, although I had a work-related appointment in the city, I was fairly sure that I could dress for the drive down, change in a parking lot, make the appointment, change back and drive home dressed. And, that’s what I did. I was dressed in a skirt and top with a pair of sandals. I skipped the make-up because it would have been just too much work for the circumstances. I was dressed in the skirt and top when I shopped for the wig. Once purchased, the wig was on and away I went. I got to drive home dressed, complete with wig. It was exhilarating. I can hardly describe how natural it felt to be dressed as a woman. I so wanted to be able to get out of the truck and go walking about the streets. Unfortunately I am still a caricature of what I want to be.

The situation that I live in restricts how often I can wear the clothes of my choice. But it hasn’t kept me from pushing the borders with make-up. I have been reading the forums and working on getting the eye-shadow and mascara right. Today I had an appointment at a clinic outside of my normal area of travel so I did my eyes and lips and away I went. I was able to sit comfortably in a crowded waiting room without feeling particularly self-conscious. I’m sure that the attending nurse noticed the make-up because she struggled throughout the entire examination to avoid eye contact. It was amusing. More later when my thoughts are more ordered. I’m missing so much because my mind is jumping around in a disordered manner.

The Dog Days of Summer

Ripping off a book and movie title is probably not an auspicious opening for a mediocre blog. We [the social, inclusive we] are in the midst of our first heat wave of the summer. The temperature is predicted to exceed 34 degrees C. Thank goodness for air conditioning, especially for those of us that work from home. Although I could see myself in a summer dress on the patio sipping mint julep and fanning myself to avoid “exuding”, that isn’t going to happen.

Yesterday circumstances worked in my favor in that I had the house to myself for a reasonable and defined period of time. I was able to put on a skirt and a t-shirt top for most of the day, along with a bit of eye make-up, just because. I don’t usually go as far as make-up because I am the only one who sees me. I have been experimenting with it though so I am more comfortable adding a little for effect. I just have to remember to remove it before anyone attentive arrives home. Like carrying a purse, wearing it out is based on my determination for the day and where I’m going.

Back to the point, it was a very comfortable day being dressed. It is the most relaxed place that I know of. I had another week away, which meant no opportunity to dress in anything other than male clothing. Those days are the most frustrating, the ones where I know that there is absolutely no chance of “slipping into something comfortable”. Those days are also very challenging for keeping my secret. The stress of not being able to dress exhibits itself in the delusion that I could “come out” to my wife and we could live happily ever after. Unfortunately that would not be the case. I’ve written before about my wife’s thoughts on men and make-up, and men in women’s clothing. She has no visible capacity for accepting that kind of behaviour.

I also know that once armed with the information that I cross-dress, she would not hesitate to use it as a bludgeon when she felt like it. Part of my life has been sufficiently confused that I’m prescribed Concerta and Wellbutrin. Any time that I have an angry outburst I get slapped with comments like; “Miss your meds today?” I can only imagine the beating that I would take over cross-dressing. All of this is without factoring in our abysmal sex life, all of which is already my fault and the exposure of cross-dressing would trigger all kinds of accusations and suspicions. Even if my disclosing my cross-dressing were enough to cause an end to this relationship, she would be angry enough at being forced out into the harsh world that she would be merciless in every venue. There would be no opportunity for me to quietly separate and live alone with my predilection.

Closing the circle again, even though we were away from home and I knew that dressing would not be a possibility, I still decided to pack a skirt and two tops. The risk was significant, but the return, surprisingly was too. I took a certain comfort from knowing that my clothes were close and if I needed to, I could touch them, refold them and wish. Add to that, we went shopping in new venues while we were away. I had the opportunity to wander through racks and racks of  women’s clothes. I got to handle them, pull out suggestions and go find the pieces that worked with them. My wife came out of the store with a bag full of new clothes, happy that she had new clothes and happy that I had shopped cooperatively with her.

All in all, the trip away wasn’t bad. I long for the days went I can dress the way I want and spend time developing my style and my make-up, but all in all life isn’t so bad.