A beginning ...

So ... June 19 2007 and here I am.

I'm not sure as to where this blog is heading ... nor even what I would like to achieve from it. Mostly, I think, I'm hoping it will give me a chance to stop and think about things. Things being whatever is on my mind at the moment. I'm aiming to write it for myself ... but who knows ... maybe someone else somewhere will find some interest in it.


OK ... the date of this posting is April 30 2007. This is because there's a way in which this date represents the end of something and the beginning of something. Everything mentioned in this post happened on or before April 30 2007.

To begin ... maybe I should set a little context.

At the time of writing I'm 52 ... not far from being 53. Andrea, however, is much younger than that.

I'm married ... for years and years and years. In a strange way I'd say we are more divergent in our beliefs and thoughts than we have ever been. Yet, in another way, we are also closer.

I have two daughters.

I'm a transvestite.

This seems to mean quite different things to different people. One dictionary version is ... someone who adopts the dress or manner or sexual role of the opposite sex. Some of that is part of what it means to me ... but not all.

It seems that being a transvestite is a different experience for everyone that experiences it. Just like everyone's experience of being a human being is different from every other persons. This being the case I can only speak with any authority about Andrea the transvestite. So ... that's what I'll do.

The first time I recall wearing stuff not usually classed as masculine attire I was a teenager. The attire was lingerie and it belonged to my mother. So far as I remember the attraction was the clothing rather than the owner of the clothing. But it's far enough back for me not to really be sure of the motivations. The experience was initially pleasant ... pleasant enough to repeat from time to time. Until one day an unexpected returning home on the part of my brother led to some seriously embarrassing moments. It was with great satisfaction that I returned home unexpectedly one day not long after this and returned the favour.

After that ... I'm not sure.

I don't recall cross dressing at all as a student.

Sometimes ... in my mid twenties when I worked away from home occasionally ... I bought lingerie and took occasional opportunities to wear it. It wasn't regular ... but it happened. It wasn't easy. I'd become a born again Christian during my first year at University. Cross dressing isn't something that born again Christians typically find an easy thing to accept. So it was generally accompanied by feelings of guilt and followed by pleas for forgiveness and attempts at repentance.

My involvement with the Church pretty much came to an end a few years ago. I don't have bitter feeling about it. I'm not sure that it is all wrong. But I am sure that for where I am at in my life at the moment it's not the right place for me to be.

Towards the end of the twentieth century (omg that does make me feel mature) I began to discover the Internet. It provided opportunities, once in a while, to tell people that ... "by the way ... sometimes I like to wear lingerie".

Usually I was careful that whoever I mentioned this to was likely not to freak out. I do remember one of the first people I mentioned it to asking pretty early on about what happens if I walk under a bus? What would the people at the hospital say? Strangely enough, at the time, that kind of thing was more of a worry than the damage that the bus itself might do to me. I have things in better perspective now.

Once in a while someone or other would ask if I wore dresses and blouses and things. Or did I wear lipstick? Eventually I began to think ... "well why not"?

I didn't buy my first skirt and blouse until towards the end of 2006. It was a trip to Primark. I also called in at Anne Summers ... well ... I needed stockings ... and I couldn't resist the basque.

I did try lipstick once ... mmm ... well ... that's enough said about that!

At this time my wife had no clue. Keeping a few pairs of knickers, a bra and stockings hidden away isn't all that difficult. Add a couple of skirts and blouses and it begins to get much trickier.

Near the very end of 2006 someone asked me "does your wife know"? Internet people had asked me this before, but the circumstances seemed different somehow. In a way I was maybe different.

As a result of that conversation I decided that I wanted my wife to know. But I didn't dare tell her. I didn't know what she would say. I was afraid of how she would react. But I was tired of having to hide.

Having no idea how to broach the subject I stopped wearing Y-fronts and began to wear panties. I know ... not the bravest of all possible approaches. But I wasn't feeling brave. Just tired.

It took a few days ... and the unusual mix of clothing in the laundry caught the attention of my wife.

She asked me. I told her. It wasn't easy. Explaining:

• no ... it's not something that just happened ... it's been a part of me for years
• no ... I don't know why I do it exactly
• no ... I'm not thinking about having a sex change operation
• Why had I never said anything before?
• Where was it leading to?
• What difference was it going to make?

A place that helped a lot is http://www.ladylike.org.uk/. It gave us something to talk about.

It carried on not being easy for a while. The first time she saw a bra under my shirt led to a long, long discussion about what is weird, what is acceptable and what isn't.

There were other issues as well. Bad tempered. Over-critical. Under appreciative.

One day, though, she said that if it would help then it was OK for me to "dress" in the evening and sit in the lounge.

So ... a few days later I did. For the first time she saw me wearing a skirt.

I know it wasn't easy for her. But ... she handled it!

Over the next few weeks she says she began to notice that I was different.

And yes ... there is a sense in which the fact that I was prone to wearing a frock after getting home from work made me very different.

But it was more than that. Less angry. Better tempered. Less critical. More appreciative.

I've read that for many transvestites, the act of dressing is something that relieves stress.

Whilst all this was happening I'd never really applied the term transvestite to myself. I was just a cross dresser.

Then ... in April 2007 I discovered http://www.fionafloydtv.com/