Sarahjanus's Blog

January 18, 2011

The lies that will bind me.

Yesterday I was so comfortably dressed until I had to go out and pick up the Last Child Standing (L.C.S.) that I didn’t want to change. I was truly enjoying my day. I was in a positive place like none I have been in for a long, long time. Because I have to go and pick up the L.C.S., and because he’s not blind, I have to change into drab to do it. I’m always a bit resentful of this, particularly when I’m having a really comfortable day. As I wrote yesterday, my mood is directly affected by my attire and the longer I can stay dressed en femme, the better my state of mind is.

Kris Kristofferson wrote in one of his songs; “if you’re heading for the border, Lord, you’re going to cross the line”. I guess that’s where I’m going with this analogy. Instead of stripping off all the en femme clothes and re-dressing in drab, I changed up my shoes, men’s slip-ons instead of heels, pulled lounge pants on over the leggings; I tucked the long sweater into the pants, took the forms out of the bra and pulled on a coat. The same child, who noticed my lipstick a week ago, saw nothing untoward in my attire. Clearly I am heading for the border.

It wasn’t long after we got home that he was asking for the car to go shopping. I was happy to lend it to him and before he was clear of the driveway, I was redressed and comfortable. Unfortunately, for a set of reasons completely beyond this blog, my afternoon soon imploded and I retreated into a gray haze and stayed there, miserable for the rest of the day.

This morning I had engagements out of the house, so I thought I had lost my opportunity to dress today. The L.C.S. decided to hang in town with his chums. So, here I am, dressed and becoming cheerier by the moment.

I have put myself in a corner that I won’t escape from. I had an opportunity yesterday evening to “come out”, so to speak, and I avoided it. In fact I flat-out lied and this will come back to haunt me in the future. My long-suffering SO saw something that led her to ask if I had been doing some personal grooming. What she saw was from my eyebrows. Obviously I had done a miserable job of cleaning up, but in any event, she asked about other grooming. I tried to not answer the questions. She persisted. She got her answers and then asked about why I didn’t want to divulge my activity.

My answer to her was that it was personal and in my mind a bit eccentric so I was reluctant to embarrass myself by bringing it up. She said it wasn’t eccentric, that many males groom these days. She continued, and said that not many shaved their legs, but many groomed. She was getting in a shot at me for once having shaved my legs. I don’t know what possessed me to do it and why I thought she wouldn’t notice. On the other hand, being the character that I am, it is possible that I shaved them expecting her to notice and hoping the discussion would go in such a way that she wouldn’t object to it. Then I could continue shaving them. It didn’t.

The personal grooming led to more questions and her observation that there is something awry in our world. She played her usual gambit, which is to offer to hear anything I may have to say about what is awry before she has to pursue the information herself. “Save me the trouble of having to find it all out the hard way. Don’t make me work for it. Tell me, be honest.” I waited as she spoke and wondered silently if this was the moment, the time, to be forthright and tell her how much happier I am dressed as a woman. That admission would lead to other questions, many of which I don’t have answers to; Are you gay? Do you want a sex change? Are you going to do this full-time? What am I going to tell my friends and family?

I deferred. We have a momentous event in front of us. It is just weeks away. It will form part of the family lore. I chose not to colour that event by connecting it with my “coming out”. Perhaps I will stumble between now and then and the secret will come out anyway but I would prefer, first of all, that it didn’t come out at all, or alternatively, that it comes out in a moment where it won’t be associated with something-else favourable. The corner I referred to is this; when my cross-dressing is exposed, she will come back to this conversation and point out how I lied and deceived her, even when she was pressing for the truth. She will be right. She usually is.

Here I am, dressed with no place to go. I have a gray pencil skirt with a gray/black cowl neck top from Pennington’s that I rarely wear. I have a pair of nylons that must be the wrong size because they are loose on me. How can that be? And, I have a pair of heels. I feel lovely and I’m working happily at my desk.

A correspondent was kind enough to point me towards Fantasia Fair, a TG/TS event held in the U.S. in October. It looks like a great place to spend a week. Who knows, maybe I’ll be in a position to go. I do not have the exuberance or exhalation of yesterday, but I have the peace of being able to be who I should be, at least for a few hours.

To my friend who was trying to IM me; I’m sorry I missed you. I was writing this and missed the pop-up.

Love to all.  Sarah..,


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