Hmm, time for a little post-alcohol introspection methinks. Course, it might be a bad idea to write a blog post after four cans of BrewDog Elvis Juice (yup, shameless plug, but their Elvis Juice is a sublime IPA infused with Grapefruit that just makes you so happily drunk…… but I digress), but the creative juices are flowing and that’s always a good time to blog.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what makes me so happy when I’m dressed as a woman. For a long time it was compulsion, but a compulsion based purely on the facts that it was naughty (see previous blogs, I grew up in the 70s when homosexuality and gender diversity were linked together, and homosexuality was barely past being illegal) *and* it was something I could do in complete secrecy.
For the last couple of years my compulsion has changed, partly because I accidentally got out-ted to my other half, and partly because when you reach a certain age the opinions of others just seem not as important any more.
So lately the compulsion has become more mainstream, more a normal state for my confused sexuality. Yet I still get that lovely warm kinky thrill when I think about it, and when I do it.
Pictured – a lovely kinky thrill
But now it has seemed to coalesce around various feminine roles as opposed to just the clothes. Let me explain – now I *can* dress whenever I want the impetus has changed from a fevered and surreptitious need to chuck on a frock to experiencing the feminine role itself.
Hence the title. For me the act of cross-dressing is no longer about changing and embracing the other gender, but more of wrapping myself utterly in the behaviour roles exclusive to the female gender.
Yeah, it might be some kind of BDSM spin-off, but hell, it’s *soooooo* much fun. My drab and, gasp, boring life involves a very alpha male role, a specialist, an expert. When I dress it is delightful to throw that all away and go beyond pretending, and take on the role of various characters I’d love to be immersed in.
So, long words aside, what does this actually mean? Well, I see a frock on a website and my mind goes to ‘that’s the kind of dress a newly wed wife would wear, mature enough to be wifey but still a little girlie’ and from that, ‘what would it be like if I *was* a newly wed wife?’.
Pictured – she’d look like this….
Yeah, it’s emasculation and I’m pretty sure a psychiatrist would highlight my broken gender identity, obsession with the strong female role, a need to be submissive etc etc. But for me it’s much simpler – I want to experience, fully, the life of a woman from all the perspectives I never can.
So, my choice of frock is always driven by the role-playing behind it – the married older woman, the 1940s housewife, the timid newly wed, all roles that I could never experience in my natural gender and societal life.
Pictured – enjoying a role I was never born to enjoy. Really enjoying it…
But forget the seriousness, it just gives me such a raw, naked thrill to do it. When I look at myself in the mirror the shock of seeing me, but not me, presenting myself to the world as something utterly different from the role forced upon me by society and my gender is just utterly delicious. There are no words that can sum it up properly, the thrill is utterly sublime.
*But* it’s just role-playing. I’m not daft enough to think that being, for example, a housewife for 100% of my time would be anything other than totally boring. It’s all about who you are and who you are not – we all long to be something else, and with me the existence of Sarah in all her guises and forms is a beautiful way for me to experience sides of life that genetics and society have said I can never be.
I’m pretty sure a stay at home mom who can and does wear 1950s fashions every day would want to be me for a little bit. Hmm, wait, perhaps not….. 🙂
Pictured – this or my daily clothes? Err, this?
Anyway, deep ramblings over – I love occasionally being 100% a housewife, just as much as I enjoy putting on the drab clothes after, hopping a train home, opening my Macbook and looking at the same housewife. It’s nice to be someone else occasionally.
I’m very, very lucky at this time of my life that I can experience this without the guilt of the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s. The T-revolution, although slightly slowed by the opinions of the frankly unprogressive person currently in the office of the President of the US aside, is a wonderful thing to be part of, although I’ve never claimed to have been persecuted myself as I spent the majority of my life in denial. It’s a lovely point of history to be around in, especially when Sarah is so much in my mind right now.
And a quick extra thought – I had a wonderful conversation with a close T-friend of mine earlier in the week where I postulated that the drab me is the false me, and Sarah is the real me. The reason I said this is that whenever I’m Sarah I’m happy; happy on a base level that I’ve never been that happy in my entire life. My drab life is dull, miserable, no real highs. As Sarah everything is delightfully fun, all aspects of life have a thrill to them. In drab each day is just a repeat of the one before, but the light that keeps me going is that at some point I’ll be Sarah.
Pictured – Sarah….
Wouldn’t it be lovely if the real person behind all this was Sarah, and the drab part of me was just a mask I wear to conform to society’s current standards? On occasions I’ve considered whether I could sneak aspects of Sarah into my daily life – even going as far as to wear nail varnish. But drab me isn’t that exciting……
So, blame the Elvis Juice for rambling, but what I’m trying to say is that dressing as Sarah is more about adopting and slipping, completely, into the feminine mindset and role as it is just wearing female clothing. The combination of all of it makes me lose myself in a delightful way. Or it lets the real me come to the surface and embrace being herself, if only for a short time.
Stay beautiful, stay true to yourself, and don’t let the way you were brought up stop you from being the real person inside. If you’re like me, she is a much better person…..
Pictured – a better person, and, roleplay – moi?