Sarahjanus's Blog

February 9, 2011

Under-dressing blurs the boundaries

Today is the day before my trip was to begin but my tour operator has canceled because of civil unrest. I have rescheduled for later in this season. So here I am, sitting before my desk with files piled in front of me. I really focused on work in January to be sure that everything was done before I walked away from it all. The trip became iffy and the motivation to push every day faded. The overwhelming majority of the work is done. I’m putting finishing touches on what remains before turning it in. New work is arriving, as people discover that I’m not going to be away. Life carries on as it always does.

I wrote last of losing my privacy and my opportunity to dress during the day without fear of discovery. I have been adapting to that these past days. I guess it is another milestone on my path, that I have begun under-dressing to a greater degree and with greater frequency. It actually helps, more than I thought it would. I’m going to say, for the moment, that it contributes to a further blurring of the boundaries.

In the past I have described myself as Sarah and the host. There aren’t really two distinct personalities, although there probably is a measure of schizoid personality in the mix. First I submitted to the urges to wear women’s clothes and that progressed until I acquired a wardrobe that allowed me to cater to a variety of moods. As I dressed more comprehensively, I noticed a difference in my personality, my oft-mentioned inner peace and calm. In my clothes I did not want to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I wanted to be a sheep, so Sarah became. Having a name gave substance to the effect. From the moment I stepped out of the shower in the morning, I was Sarah in how I completed my morning rituals and in how I chose my clothes, whether or not I did my make-up, and in how I did my chores around the house. I was/am Sarah in how I walk and how I sit. I am Sarah in how I answer the telephone when people call, or I am the host.

My host is the tense, depressed, and often irritable individual that existed before Sarah and comes to the fore-front when she wasn’t or couldn’t be present. I have come to believe that Sarah is who I would like to be, if I had the choice and the strength. In what is analogous to the chicken and the egg question; I’m left wondering if I would cross-dress in a perfect world, still trying to emulate a woman, or if I would simply become an effeminate male. I believe that I would, at the very least, cross-dress. I do love the clothes.

In the past year, I have not missed an opportunity (of any significance) to dress. Losing my privacy in the house has had an impact, ergo; under-dressing. I have begun to wear panties rather than underwear. I usually have pantyhose on under either my “jammie pants” or jeans. I went out and bought a section of lace trimmed camisoles in various colors that I can wear under shirts and pull-overs. Now, braving the Canadian winter and the treacherous driving, which increase the risk of accident and discovery, I’m usually under-dressed when I go out, even on business calls. I may go as far as wearing my women’s jeans if I’m out and not expecting to run into anyone I know. I’ve yet to acquire a decent pair of winter boots to top off the ensembles, but something (under-dressed) is definitely better than nothing.

This brings me full circle to my earlier point. The façade that the world sees is still the host that everyone knows, but an under-dressed host is more Sarah than host. The lines blur as I get more comfortable with dressing, under-dressing, feminizing and “emasculating”. “Word” did not like “demasculize”, my made-up word, as a descriptor. It suggested emasculate which isn’t a perfect fit but works. I’m thinking of losing the aggressiveness of the male, losing the testosterone influenced behaviours, unblocking my emotions. Losing my testicles, as emasculate requires, would probably accomplish the same ends.

So I sit here, calm, at peace, happy. I’m dressed this morning as I work because the Last Child Standing doesn’t get up much before noon. I’m counting on hearing him before he sees me so that I can disappear and change.

I wish happy moments for all of you.


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