Last night was the final night of my kids' dance group's stage show. I got dressed up in a tailcoat and tophat as the narrator, while four of the other dads were dancing some sort of Estampe dressed as gypsy queens, with brightly coloured dresses, wigs, scruffy trainers and deliberately unshaven chins.
I have been wondering to myself why I didn't feel jealous of the opportunity they had to dress up as "women" in public. I certainly preferred the role I had - lots of stage time! - and I suppose they weren't dressed as Women, not the way some of you ladies dress in the US when you get your Halloween Special thing going! They were dressed as Blokes in Dresses and that was the whole point. At no time was anyone expected to mistake them for ladies.
On the other hand, Mrs Flowers did my stage makeup before I went on then spent every chance the whole evening telling me how gorgeous my eyes looked with the eyeliner and how she was going to ravish me when we got home. Ah the best laid plans, by the time we were home and had fed the kids we were both knackered but I'm sure we'll find some time for her to reapply that eyeliner and get on some stockings and shoes. I've not felt any particular need to go to shoes or makeup, but her reaction to both gives me a strong incentive to play with them in our own closed environment.