Where to Begin with Crossdressing.

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Barbara Came Home Last Night!

Ever had a friend or family member gone for a long time and then picked them up at long last at the airport? You know you missed them, are eager to see them once again, but perhaps in their absence you haven't written or phoned like you had planned. Maybe you have fallen out of touch a bit.

You wait, now in the overcrowded holiday season packed converted 'waiting area' of the airport, never designed for the post security measures crowd. Then, at once, emotion floods. Your loved one is there. In the flesh, huggable, touchable, kissable.

Such was the case last night. I was posting away on a site. It has a GBLT area. I saw a couple of posts by a young transperson, and Barbara's heart when out to her. Just like that I was back. Tender heart, vulnerable, feeling lovely. No clothing, no make-up, no wig for the transformation, I just was. I nearly cried. I am a bit teary right about it now. I have been trying to get back to Barbara for sometime without success. I waxed my legs, she didn't appear. I bought some femme items I could feel her hovering near us at the thrift store, but she stayed just out reach. I went on to www.crossdressers.com
and re-connected with treasured friends there. I felt their warmth and welcome. But not Barbara.

I thought for a while with the new open communication that Dee and I have had with each other especially sexually lately that perhaps Barbara was all a dream, or a device, or a temporary blessing to get us through some tough times. I wondered if I was somehow a fraud. A dude in a dress acting out a kink just for a cheap sexual thrill.

I sit here, tears rolling down my cheeks, happy and soft. As Barbara. Still not playing dress-up, but I could. Dee just said its a shame we are broke. It would be a great time to go shopping. (Barbara is a bit looser with the purse strings.)

This morning I logged into my email and say a sweet note from my (Barbara's) big sister Paige. I've not said much about her in my blog, but despite the fact that my male side is older, Paige will always be my big sister. She so kindly led the teenage, giddy, scared, Barbara by the hand carefully out of the closet and into the beautiful light of day. Thanks, Paige, I've missed you also.

I have always met good friends in my travels. I have another adoptive big sister that seems to serve as a substitute for my actual sister that, sadly I am estranged from. Jessica seems to serve as sister to both my male side and my female side and helps me to connect with the authentic me no matter where I am on any given day on my own personal trangendered sliding scale. Thanks for the overburdened ear, Jessica.

And of course Dee is there through it all. When my gender repression probably erupts out as male irritability, when I am feeling pretty, when I am feeling silly, when I am dead sexy. Love you Dee.

With Love,

Barbara

The Care and Maintenance of Barbara

I have neglected the blog here as my few regular readers may have noticed. This is more an indicator of my neglect of my entire Barbara persona than lack of interest in writing or blogging in general.

It seems to have started when I realized that I was constrained by circumstances outside of myself from maintaining Barbara's smooth legs. In male mode its the thing I would notice first so naturally it is one f the things that defines Barbara. Seems silly given that I went decades without really wanting to shave, that I would feel angst at all about it. I think though that crossdressing is a progressive condition. The more involved your preparations are for transforming yourself get the higher the bar is set. Once I saw myself in a skirt, mere pantyhose wasn't going to suffice. Add another layer of a wig and make-up and tasteful clothes, and that becomes the point where I feel like Barbara. I still like the soft satiny feel of a nice pair of panties but that is a comfort to my male side, not really anymore a step towards feeling en femme as it was in the past.

As I said in a previous post realizing how much I missed smooth legs scared me a little. If I miss it is important. If so I have to re-evaluate in my heart and mind where it is I fit in on the spectrum of wants, needs and behaviors that is described as "being trans-gendered". I like to believe that I am a fetishist. Why than the angst at doing without that that I did nicely without for so long in the past? Why is is such a comfort. Why is it less and less of a sexual thrill, while maintaining its allure in indescribable ways? And most un-answerable, what does any of this mean now and especially in the future. If I dress more will I be sated or demand ever-more?

Tonight I was going through my closet sorting a bit. I have skirts that I purchased after I had lose 20 lbs and a couple of sizes that are now much to big. This one skirt is cute and I never really ever wore it. It is a size 12 wrap-around reversible skirt. green plaid on one side a green floral print on the other. Even the label is cleverly reversible. I wrapped it around me and tucked it in to itself. (The skirt! not well the other!) I wore it as I surfed the net and spent some time on an adult site that my wife and I have been enjoying together as of late. It felt nice to be so, and it seemed silly I don;t dress just for emotional comfort. Whether that sates me or raises my desire to dress more shouldn't be the criterion for whether I dress or to what degree.

As I vacillate about these issues I can feel Barbara slipping away, and it makes me sad.Best evidence of this is the fact that I can't get her out of third person.

Big Brother in Heels.

The boy came into our room and without pre-amble grabbed a pair of heels from the closet door. This time, apparently in a more conservative mood, got a pair that actually WAS my wife's. He usually prefers mine as they are a little more camp.

He slung a long Tigger-like toy around his neck like a mink stole. He attached anther stuffed animal to his forehead using a large rubber band. He clomped and posed and generally had fun.

He was trying to attract the attention of the toddler. My wife asked him if he is playing the sister or is he just the big brother in heels? Without hesitation he said, the big brother in heels. Its just fun, as it should be.

He is so getting his own pair of heels for Christmas. We already bought them on dollar day, they are tiny like size 5 probably, but with a 3-4 inch heel. So that they are available but not obvious they are going to be tucked into a dress-up box we have been working on including a nice waiters jacket, a gangster suit, and various hats, Halloween masks, and just maybe a ball gown..:)

Well hirsute didn't survive the day.

The plan was to take some tasteful manly pictured, before I got around to shaving. The potential babysitters were gone, so we didn't get around to that. I didn't think I was feeling a really strong urge to denude. I figured I would wait until we had a Barbara photo shoot to shave or wax so I'd be as smooth as possible.

As things wound down around here I decided, that I'd rather wax than shave and it can be a several session process to get from Sasquatch to smooth and lovely mode. I started with the parts I could reach, my shins and knees, a little of my calves and parts of my thighs. I tried a little of my belly myself. ALWAYS a mistake to try that yourself. Do NOT try this at home, kids. I had Dee help me rip those out, and cajoled her into helping a few more areas. Once I started and could see actual legs for the forest I wanted it all gone. I finally like I usually do gave up and shaved the rest. I left some of the back of my legs for another session.

Spotted one of Dee's nighties on the back of the bathroom door and slipped it on...feels nice to be relatively smooth again. Had to reduce pic size here or you'd see my still partially hairy knees. :)

Went to a thrift store again today...

Bought nothing femme unless you count the Calvin Klein button fly jeans for my manly photo-shoot. I got a pair of Justin Western boots for $7 too. Dee made me pass on a genuine Stetson for $24 not because of price but because it was the official authorized version of by Burt Reynold's in the acclaimed Smokey and the Bandit

Speaking of, I didn't have occasion to outrun any Smokeys on my last trip. I managed a leisurely 75 mph average speed over a distance of 435 miles. Which is pretty impressive if you saw the construction zones, the times I really did slow down through hall the small towns and the no-passing crawls. I never went over 120 miles per hour as I told a nice old lady at the clinic that mentioned she thought I drove a little too fast.

The boots were nice and fit well. I wrote about them and the Justin Roper's I found for Dee one night of dumpster diving on my diving blog here.

It wasn't that I wasn't feeling femme at all its just that Barbara has a pretty extensive wardrobe that I haven't been able to wear all of yet, let alone out somewhere. At one thrift store Dee refused to use the dressing rooms because they had curtains instead of actual lockable doors. I picked a stall to try on the jeans, and noticed a red sparkly medium sized cocktail dress. How fun I thought. At $24 I wasn't going to buy it, but maybe to try on. I sat and was taking off my boots when an older lady stuck her head in my stall and said, "Oh, sorry!" with a blush. Imagine her chagrin if I had been halfway into that cocktail dress. I placed my boots near the front to signal that a manly man was gettin' disrobe-ed in thar'. No one bothered me while I tried on the dress. (It did fit OK but I am not so into the 80's shoulder pads look). Jeans fit, and rather than hassle with changing back I pulled on my boots and transfered my pocket litter to my new jeans. I paid for my old jeans again on the way out making my new ones free, and my old ones cost about $3 total.

Since I am STILL under 130 despite eating country-style at my sister-in- law's on my trip, I had some greasy and delicious fish and chips for dinner. All in all a good day.

Back and feeling pretty macho.

Having just had the adrenaline-fueled, put-hair-on-your-chest, high-speed dash through the mountains, I'm still not feeling that femme. I went 435 miles though hills and curves and construction zones, and small town speed traps in a combined total of 5 hours 15 minute. No close calls with the cops this time!

Physical went well I think. I went in lean and healthy 42 lbs lower than I was when I started crossdressing in earnest just in May. The staff was very professional and I can;t imagine that they would have had any problem at all if I had shaved, but given it is a small town facility, I had been a bit paranoid about it. Shouldn't have worried about it.

Now that I can shave/wax/veet/trim at will, I feel much better eve though I haven't. It was really odd how antsy I was about being hairy when it didn't feel like my choice. We have been taking some artsy (and less artsy) pics lately, and I am leaning towards leaving the manly look for a while.

That could easily change in a heartbeat though. During this time I was holding off denuding, I bought a lot of cute things that I am dying to see on with smooth legs..:)

Smooth again soon.

I stopped shaving and waxing now almost 2 months ago. I'm back to my macho furry self, and its really hard to feel femme like that. Funny how I miss it since I went most of my life that way without any angst over body hair.

As I have mentioned previously I think, I realize that many people with gender identity issues have very real feelings of dislike for their birth gender. I have never had this diaspora towards my gender. I have long admired the other gender and sometimes wished I was, but in reality I would prefer to be fluid in my gender expression and able to float between the two.

I stopped shaving because I had an idea about dressing up as a good friend of mine who passed away several years ago. Will used to wear a leather vest (With a .45 ACP in a shoulder holster.) I found a similar vest in a thrift store. My wife really likes my face with a beard so the plan was to let my beard grow for a month, shave the beard for Halloween leaving a mustache like Will's When I knew him he was bald n top friar tuck style. I am balding, but not quite that sparse. I was going to leave a fringe and go as him as kind of a tribute.

So abo0ut this time a job I had applied online clear back in June called. I have an actual profession that on an hourly basis pays up to 10 times what the new job pays, but my assignments have been painfully sporadic. I have no benefits, health care, retirement, etc etc.

The new job is in an environment about as macho as it comes. I wanted the job. I felt antsy as the interview approached not about the interview but because I felt I couldn't shave because there might be a physical. If I had the job I would hope I would be brave enough to groom my body as I see fit, but I am no crusader for the transgendered. SO the interview went well I thought, I came home and shaved my head and face which felt good, but not specifically femme. The next step was a background check and then a physical, 2-3 weeks I thought. I figured I could wait.

As the weeks dragged into over a month and I didn't hear, I grew depressed, mostly I think because I can't even get what seems like a fairly basic job. I finally had some break-throughs on the femme side. I have gotten some tips on my, er, technique from a bi-sexual friend, to rave reviews from Dee who had had no complaints previously. She reports that she was able to see and feel me as Barbara, even en homme, and that felt good and validating.

Last night a weird number came across the display on my caller id, it was only 4 digits. I thought it was the automated reminder that my payment on the phone was overdue. I picked it up and hung it up. Fortunately they called back. Thinking the computer needed a couple of seconds connection before it would release the call, I answered. It was the job.

They made me an offer, I accepted it. They wondered when I wanted to schedule the physical. I said ASAP!!!!!! I am leaving to make the 550 mile round trip now. I plan to be smooth as can be by Saturday!