[SIZE="2"]“Tell me, does it hurt much?” (Dr. Clayton Forrester to TV’s Frank on MST3K, c.1993)
Does it hurt much? You know, dressing in women’s clothing, meaning clothing not designed for your male form? The garments you prefer to wear are tight here, loose there, requiring padding and/or supplemental undergarments to create shape where there is none. Add to this the sudden vulnerability you feel when cool air reaches previously unvisited parts of your body – you may feel a certain euphoria (I do), but this pleasure is impossible to describe in our inherent masculine nomenclature. Let’s not forget the hitherto unknown feeling of having one’s manhood pushed out of sight (and mind), all for the good of the aforementioned unmentionables. This hosiery – how do they do it? Why do they do it? It feels good, but you need to do something about your hirsute-ness pronto! You defoliate, but now you can’t wear shorts without drawing attention to yourself - you’re drifting towards a far shore, my friend, miles from everything obligatory, uncomfortable, and seemingly mandatory. Where are you going?
Does it hurt much? These shoes – these heels – you’ll have to learn how to walk again, and you have to ditch the manly strides. No more two (or three) steps at a time. What’s that sound? How can you walk around noisily like that? Your whole posture needs improvement – your back! Call the “Wellness Doctor.” Wait a minute, you can’t tell another man about your love of heels, or can you? So many new problems – this wig is hot and somewhat uncomfortable, but you have beautiful hair now! You thought you would look hideous, but it’s not all that bad. Are you deluding yourself? Wisps of fake hair are getting stuck to your lipstick – imagine, wearing lipstick, not to mention all manner of makeup, in an effort to conceal who you are! Perhaps you’re in the process of revealing who you really are!? You didn’t think it would get this far, did you?
Does it hurt much? You exist, walking between the closet and the bed, admiring your feminine clothes – so soft, so gentle, so tactile and beautiful. The closet is your shrine, and the mirror is your witness. You put on your clothes and transform into a pre-determined idea you have of what a woman looks like, a woman you’ve never actually seen or met. You feel different. You’re standing there, happy for the moment, but if only you could go somewhere dressed like this – you know, it would be fantastic to just walk around outside, or maybe drive somewhere in your favorite outfit. What if the next door neighbors see you? What if the neighbor’s children see you? What if you get pulled over by the police, get in an accident, run out of gas, or lose your confidence before you even get out the door? Maybe you should just sit there all dressed up – that is such a pretty dress, after all...
Does it hurt much? You’ve been doing this awhile. It makes you feel GOOD, and you would like to tell someone about your self-discovery. Who can you trust? What if any disclosure on your part leads to discomfort for those you love? Are you being selfish, trying to embrace your own pleasurable explorations while others are kept at arm’s length? What should you do – keep your secrets to yourself, or endlessly try to convince trusted friends and family members that you’re happy and OK doing what you do. What is IT, anyway? A hobby, a pastime, an activity, or something... more? Why do you feel the need to do this – are you getting in touch with your lost childhood, specifically a missed girlhood that was denied you? I mean, you weren’t like the other boys at all. You never liked sports, you were bullied and picked on – you were a target because of how you walked, talked, and acted, although it certainly was NOT acting! Who are you, anyway? You know you’re not a homosexual... or... maybe...you’re not... really... but... you’re getting very confused about this, thanks to what you’ve heard or read. Perhaps you have a repressed nature, reflecting itself in this manner many years later, or maybe you’re simply just a male who wears women’s clothing...
Does it hurt much? Is something wrong with you? Will others think so, if you spill the beans about your clandestine activity? It makes you happy, so how can it possibly be a problem that requires correction? Are you supposed to be miserable, as opposed to euphoric? As you look around for clues, you can never find a satisfactory explanation for your crossdressing, nor does anyone seem to take it seriously. In the eyes of the world you’re some kind of joke. Well, that’s the message that’s coming across loud and clear, unless you’re not reading the signals correctly. Everywhere you look, a less than masculine presentation, disposition, or feeling just doesn’t seem to jibe with the way things are. You suddenly realize that your precious effeminacy is a threat, an abnormality, or a problem that needs rectifying. Better keep things to yourself, since pass-ability is only a dream, making your closet a sanctuary for imaginary soirees – will it always be this way?
Does it hurt much? You’re getting older, dressing your age, thinking more and more fondly of a simpler time, when you could have passed with ease and explored all that life has to offer. Instead, you’re begrudgingly happy with what you have accomplished, carving out a largely unexplored niche that most males do not care to think about, let alone try on for size. Yes, you can be pleased that YOU did it, even though ”it” is an inexplicable desire to do something that society frowns upon, especially if you’re not interested in provoking laughter via your “mistake.” Above all, you are in touch with yourself, meaning you “found” yourself, and you like the company. Who cares if nobody understands your crossdressing? You have incorporated the genders, for whatever reason, and you skirt along the thin edge between male and female. You somehow comfort yourself that other males exile you to a limbo of alternative sexuality, and you suppress a chuckle of resentment as you realize that females, the very beings you seek to emulate, are just as much in the dark as to your undeclared intentions...
Does it hurt much? Life is short, and getting shorter, and you wonder how it will all end for you someday. Will you be discovered right here, close to your closet of worshipful items, wearing your prized dress, expired at the boundary between this world and the next? Perhaps you should purge, or hide your stash away, but imagine the look on everyone’s face when they discover your secret! Images of Tootsie, Mrs. Doubtfire, Tony Curtis, Nathan Lane, and Milton Berle will no doubt flood their inadequate minds as they search for something to hang on to. The fools – just thinking about it all makes you laugh, and you realize you cannot take it all so seriously. You did something very important, something that will not be recognized as such by others, but you know better. However, there you sit, a man in a dress, a dress not made for you to wear, and the significance or incongruity of this inalterable fact never goes away. Does it hurt much?
Hopefully it didn’t hurt (too much) to read this lengthy post...[/SIZE]
Originally Posted by Kathi Lake
