Frédérique
09-20-2013, 12:42 PM
“Do you do it for the STORY?” (Dave Attell)
Yeah, I did it for the story. This is the kind of thing I’m supposed to write about, isn’t it? I can’t be pitting member against member ALL the time, can I? Goodness knows I have to be a good citizen of the community I’m allegedly a part of...
Anyway, it was a lot cooler this morning, so I decided to do one of those longed-for patented CD excursions whilst dressed, hopefully before I lost my nerve. Being a closeted crossdresser who could conceivably go out is like having all of the ingredients to bake cookies, and then not even bothering to turn the oven on! I thought I could walk to the post office a few blocks away and mail a few things, including a bill or two. If I’m crossdressed, I thought to myself, maybe I could divert my mind away from my ever-dwindling resources. Perfect! The proverbial die was cast...
I got dressed upstairs. My sister was asleep. I chose a longer-than-usual tartan skirt, kind of a dull magenta color as seen from a distance, a white blouse, a cropped sweater (it was actually cool enough for that), some knee-high nylons (I’m not all that nuts about pantyhose), some truly unmentionable unmentionables, and my usual flats. My wig was snug to my head, all wisps under control, using a silk scarf to accomplish that Herculean task. A little light makeup, ditto lipstick, and some barely noticeable earrings completed my outfit. Once attired, I grabbed my mail and headed out the front door...
Of course, living in a town like this, in this part of Kansas, at this particular point in time, I stick out like a sore thumb! Nobody bothers to dress up in these here parts, so my general appearance, as well as my penchant for swimming against the conformist tide, WILL draw some attention (I assume). Hopefully nobody would be around. I walked about a block, passing in front of a large church, smiling, trying not to “lope” like a male. I took my time, making small steps, raising my head and looking all around at the nature I’m a part of. My flimsy flats were a bit impractical for walking – I could feel every bump in the sidewalk, but, for some reason, this was rather exhilarating...
I kept going, towards downtown, which consists of a roughly 1 x 2 block area. Around me, I saw a few people coming and going, or doing some yard work, but nobody looked my way. Actually, I think one guy did look at me for a second – how often do you see a woman wearing a skirt these days, let alone a man doing it? COOL! Improbability was on my side. I made steady progress towards my goal, walking down a side street, feeling better every step of the way. I thought to myself that I really should do this more often – as usual, my femme clothes created a kind of breathtaking exhilaration out of thin air...
At last, I made it to the post office. I walked up the steps, went inside, and put my bills (and etc.) in the appropriate slot. I turned to go back outside, and a man was coming in. He saw me and held the door open, like a gentleman. I thanked him in my best approximation of a femme voice, and skipped out the door. If he did a double-take, or perhaps a triple-take, I didn’t see it! Back out in the sunshine, on the sidewalk, I had a choice to make – do I waltz through downtown, bold as brass, or do I keep to the alleys? I felt emboldened, so I actually walked another block to the south, procrastinated a bit, then turned and headed for Main Street...
A man sitting in a lawn chair waved to me. I waved back. What’s a nice boy/girl like you doing in a place like this? Good question, in fact I kept asking myself exactly what I thought I was doing! Soon I was walking where my drab male self usually walks, but in my precious (and secretive) chosen costume. Past the library, where they know me. Past City Hall, where they REALLY know me. EEK! I came to the big painted circle in the intersection, where the Swedish dancers will be doing their collective “thing” in two week’s time, one of the few occasions when the females WILL wear skirts (you know, for old time’s sake). I felt very vulnerable all of a sudden, trembling a bit...
I crossed the street, passing in front of the bank, where they know me, and the barber shop, where three people know my head intimately. The hardware store is right across the street, and I could see my barber coming out the front door! I hurried along, paying close attention to HOW I was walking, eventually reaching the next side street. Across the way, at the Swedish emporium, I could see several tourists milling about. I didn’t want my intensely private ramble to interfere with their enjoyment of the town (I have to consider THIS community as well, you know), so I walked one block to the west, back to the street I live on. This brought me to another quandary...
Now I had to walk past the elementary school! The kids were in school, and thankfully not playing in the playground, so I swiftly made my way down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. One of the town’s four policemen was sitting in his cruiser not too far away, but he was too preoccupied to notice me. Whew! At times like this I run potential questions and answers through my mind, which, as if by magic, makes it all NOT happen! Once I was past the school zone, I could breathe easier, lift up my eyes and enjoy being alive again. I made it home in one piece, my neighbors never saw me, and I had a splendid time, all things considered...
Next to some people, my crossdressing life is very small, a series of modest adventures whereby the mundane is transformed into something truly magical. I don’t HAVE to go out dressed, but I do it from time to time just for the thrill of it, or to make me feel more like I belong here, on a site where crossdressers relate their experiences. My life is pretty dull by comparison, but I do like to get out from time to time. I think the desire to crossdress fuels the subsequent desire to push the proverbial envelope and try risky things, but I know my limits. I’m happy just to do a little bit of something, and not try to instill myself as the local CD “fixture.” It’s fun to live here, in my little Kansas town. I can’t help but wonder if someone is saying, “Hey, did you see that guy in the skirt this morning?” right about now! Maybe I didn’t “pass,” but I had a little (cheap) fun...
Thanks for reading. I’m doing what I can, under the circumstances, but I did it (mainly) for the story...:heehee:
PS – This post is dedicated to my buddy Marleena, who “doesn’t know what to do with me.” :idontknow:
Yeah, I did it for the story. This is the kind of thing I’m supposed to write about, isn’t it? I can’t be pitting member against member ALL the time, can I? Goodness knows I have to be a good citizen of the community I’m allegedly a part of...
Anyway, it was a lot cooler this morning, so I decided to do one of those longed-for patented CD excursions whilst dressed, hopefully before I lost my nerve. Being a closeted crossdresser who could conceivably go out is like having all of the ingredients to bake cookies, and then not even bothering to turn the oven on! I thought I could walk to the post office a few blocks away and mail a few things, including a bill or two. If I’m crossdressed, I thought to myself, maybe I could divert my mind away from my ever-dwindling resources. Perfect! The proverbial die was cast...
I got dressed upstairs. My sister was asleep. I chose a longer-than-usual tartan skirt, kind of a dull magenta color as seen from a distance, a white blouse, a cropped sweater (it was actually cool enough for that), some knee-high nylons (I’m not all that nuts about pantyhose), some truly unmentionable unmentionables, and my usual flats. My wig was snug to my head, all wisps under control, using a silk scarf to accomplish that Herculean task. A little light makeup, ditto lipstick, and some barely noticeable earrings completed my outfit. Once attired, I grabbed my mail and headed out the front door...
Of course, living in a town like this, in this part of Kansas, at this particular point in time, I stick out like a sore thumb! Nobody bothers to dress up in these here parts, so my general appearance, as well as my penchant for swimming against the conformist tide, WILL draw some attention (I assume). Hopefully nobody would be around. I walked about a block, passing in front of a large church, smiling, trying not to “lope” like a male. I took my time, making small steps, raising my head and looking all around at the nature I’m a part of. My flimsy flats were a bit impractical for walking – I could feel every bump in the sidewalk, but, for some reason, this was rather exhilarating...
I kept going, towards downtown, which consists of a roughly 1 x 2 block area. Around me, I saw a few people coming and going, or doing some yard work, but nobody looked my way. Actually, I think one guy did look at me for a second – how often do you see a woman wearing a skirt these days, let alone a man doing it? COOL! Improbability was on my side. I made steady progress towards my goal, walking down a side street, feeling better every step of the way. I thought to myself that I really should do this more often – as usual, my femme clothes created a kind of breathtaking exhilaration out of thin air...
At last, I made it to the post office. I walked up the steps, went inside, and put my bills (and etc.) in the appropriate slot. I turned to go back outside, and a man was coming in. He saw me and held the door open, like a gentleman. I thanked him in my best approximation of a femme voice, and skipped out the door. If he did a double-take, or perhaps a triple-take, I didn’t see it! Back out in the sunshine, on the sidewalk, I had a choice to make – do I waltz through downtown, bold as brass, or do I keep to the alleys? I felt emboldened, so I actually walked another block to the south, procrastinated a bit, then turned and headed for Main Street...
A man sitting in a lawn chair waved to me. I waved back. What’s a nice boy/girl like you doing in a place like this? Good question, in fact I kept asking myself exactly what I thought I was doing! Soon I was walking where my drab male self usually walks, but in my precious (and secretive) chosen costume. Past the library, where they know me. Past City Hall, where they REALLY know me. EEK! I came to the big painted circle in the intersection, where the Swedish dancers will be doing their collective “thing” in two week’s time, one of the few occasions when the females WILL wear skirts (you know, for old time’s sake). I felt very vulnerable all of a sudden, trembling a bit...
I crossed the street, passing in front of the bank, where they know me, and the barber shop, where three people know my head intimately. The hardware store is right across the street, and I could see my barber coming out the front door! I hurried along, paying close attention to HOW I was walking, eventually reaching the next side street. Across the way, at the Swedish emporium, I could see several tourists milling about. I didn’t want my intensely private ramble to interfere with their enjoyment of the town (I have to consider THIS community as well, you know), so I walked one block to the west, back to the street I live on. This brought me to another quandary...
Now I had to walk past the elementary school! The kids were in school, and thankfully not playing in the playground, so I swiftly made my way down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. One of the town’s four policemen was sitting in his cruiser not too far away, but he was too preoccupied to notice me. Whew! At times like this I run potential questions and answers through my mind, which, as if by magic, makes it all NOT happen! Once I was past the school zone, I could breathe easier, lift up my eyes and enjoy being alive again. I made it home in one piece, my neighbors never saw me, and I had a splendid time, all things considered...
Next to some people, my crossdressing life is very small, a series of modest adventures whereby the mundane is transformed into something truly magical. I don’t HAVE to go out dressed, but I do it from time to time just for the thrill of it, or to make me feel more like I belong here, on a site where crossdressers relate their experiences. My life is pretty dull by comparison, but I do like to get out from time to time. I think the desire to crossdress fuels the subsequent desire to push the proverbial envelope and try risky things, but I know my limits. I’m happy just to do a little bit of something, and not try to instill myself as the local CD “fixture.” It’s fun to live here, in my little Kansas town. I can’t help but wonder if someone is saying, “Hey, did you see that guy in the skirt this morning?” right about now! Maybe I didn’t “pass,” but I had a little (cheap) fun...
Thanks for reading. I’m doing what I can, under the circumstances, but I did it (mainly) for the story...:heehee:
PS – This post is dedicated to my buddy Marleena, who “doesn’t know what to do with me.” :idontknow: