Sarahjanus's Blog

October 8, 2010

Putting me away

I’ve gone beyond my safety limits. I enjoyed the afternoon too much. I was sitting in my favorite chair, a book in hand. Everything felt perfect; I could only improve it by having someone to engage in conversation. Someone who wouldn’t care that I was an older man dressed as a woman. I loved the look of my shoes on my bouncing foot. I loved the look of the patterned nylons on my crossed legs. I loved the feel of the dress material against my hand when I smoothed the material.

I went to the closet and took off the wig. I wore it for hours today and I’m beginning to get comfortable with the bangs and the whole hair in the face thing. I took off the shoes, strappy little heels that feel like slippers when they are on. I took out the forms and put them back in the box. I had enjoyed the weight of them against me. I had admired the swell they put in my dress. I had noticed the profile in the mirror as I walked by.

I pulled the dress off over my head, hung it carefully and returned it to the garment bag that serves as its hiding place. I’m taking my time, savoring each action, knowing that it may be days before I can go through the reverse process. I took the other sweater dress out of the same bag and made sure it was hung properly before I returned it as well and zipped the bag up. I dropped the straps of my bra off my shoulders, and pushed it down so that I could spin it and unhook it. I pushed the nylons down, both legs at the same time until I could take my feet out and shake the nylons out before folding them with care, feeling the material slide across my hands as I did.

The panties were all that were left, somewhere between red and purple, thong, that holds me snugly, and little bows on the front. From La Senza, I think they are beautiful and I love to pull them on. I have four pair, each a different brilliant color.

I’m naked in every sense of the word and I feel it. I’m putting me away in boxes, out of sight, hidden. How I want to be out in the light. How I want to be seen for what I am. I know why I waited so long before changing. I’m wishing to get caught so that I don’t have to own up by myself. It would be my way, the coward’s way, of giving up my secret. It’s wrong on so many fronts but I linger in the closet, wishing it didn’t have to be so. I head into the bathroom to finish the undressing, washing my face, removing the last vestiges of the secret me.

I remind myself that my wife married a man, my children know me as a father and none of them asked for this assault on how they know me. I re-affirm that this is, for the moment, my burden, my secret. I was beautiful today. I know it, I felt it. I wasn’t the person they all know but for an afternoon I was beautiful. I was me, a truer version of me than they have ever seen or known.

I stand in the middle of a room, close my eyes and think through every step of the process to be sure that everything is away. I feel the burden pressing down on me like the winter darkness outside.


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