Tag Archive | Dressing

And yet another

20160824_150210It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything. I’m still alive, though extremely exhausted. Work has been brutal these past two weeks, and I don’t see it letting up anytime soon. I could use some time off. I should look into scheduling a vacation.

Things on the Stefani front is still about the same. I did bring someone else into the fold, my cousin. It began when she brought up a guy we went to school with, someone I always wondered if he was transgendered. There was something about him that made me suspect that he was.

That conversation led me to disclose my own gender identity, though I was nervous to do so. I opened myself up to her, and we ended up talking until after midnight. She was surprised by supportive. I showed her a picture, and she was amazed that I didn’t come across a some drag queen. I took that as a compliment.

Earlier, I had wondered out loud whether I should grow my hair back out, and she pieced it together, that my desire to grow my hair was an extension of my gender identity, and my loathing for wigs. She then made the suggestion that I should try to use extensions instead.

We talked clothing, makeup, and other girl things, which I found quite strange, but oddly satisfying. I could drop all pretenses and be me. It was great. I felt free, happy that at least I have an ally in the family. She did agree with me that my parents would never accept me, nor would my sister, but that’s a longer conversation.

What I hate is that I don’t have ample time to me Stef, only the occasional stolen moments. A friend asked me if I intended to transition, and all I could say is that I didn’t know. I’ve maintained that I had no intentions to do so, but this pull is getting stronger, and though I’m unwilling at the moment to say that I will do so, I have to concede that it is a possibility.

I don’t have to make up my mind yet. I can still dress when I have the chance. It’s the best I can do, and it’s fine for the time being. I have found some measure of peace whenever I do get to dress. I have found happiness, though only for brief moments of time.

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Clubbing plans

0539cd1cc6a401270e0b416536677547291df9-v5-wmI’m planning on a girls night out come Saturday night. The only question is will it actually happen? I really hope so. My coworker, then one I spoke of on my previous blog, has been saying we need to go to Club 212 this weekend, and I agree. It feels good to have someone else in on my secret.

So, tomorrow after work, me and by friend are planning on going to do a bit of shopping. A girl needs clothes, after all. I think I’ll go with something on the casual side, maybe a little metal and a little grunge, but keeping with my demure style, as my friend calls my usual mode of dress. I call it secretary-chic, but to each their own.

I’ll try to see if my coworker want to have lunch tomorrow. We have yet to have a chance to talk, and I really want to, before we go out to the club. I want a nice, quite place where we can talk in peace. I know she has questions, and I want to answer them for her. I have precious few people with whom I can talk to freely about this. So far, I only have my two best friends, a friend in DFW, and a crossdresser in town that wants to remain anonymous. I’m trying to keep my identity a secret, but to do so, I would have to disengage from the internet, and I’m not willing to do that. I refuse to hide ever again!

 

Pictures

2016-07-08I haven’t taken as many pictures of myself as I used to. Isn’t that odd? Maybe it isn’t. My friend thought I was being a little conceited every time I got dressed up, and I would take several pictures of myself, admiring the transformation from drab to glam. It was intoxicating! I wanted to document this change to prove to myself that I really did look that good.

Okay, that’s coming out a little conceited.

I don’t think I’m alone. On all the blogs I follows, forums I visit, social media sites where others like me post, I see countless examples of other crossdressers posting pictures of themselves, seeking validation that maybe they kind of pass. I know I’m guilty of that. I’m also guilty of enjoying the compliments I receive.

Lately, however, I have not taken as many pictures. I click a couple, but I don’t sit and pose, trying to find the best picture. I don’t dress to validate myself. I dress because it feels right. I dress to be me, and that’s enough.

So there aren’t as many pictures of me to post. I don’t feel the need to document every time I put on a dress. I’m able to enjoy my time now, sit back, and glory in my femininity. It’s nice. I still enjoy being complimented, so I suppose I’m not going to stop taking pictures all together. I mean, years from now, I’m going to want to see what I looked like. I owe it to myself, after all. I’m just a little more discerning.

No time for Stef

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August 31, 2015

So while I wait, Stefani waits as well. I’m starting to get the itch. The last time I got itchy, I spent several hundred dollars buying clothes. It may be time for a shopping spree. I need new clothes, and shoes. But I have to get my room done first. Ugh!

The good news is that I’ll be heading out of town in a couple of weeks, well actually a week from Thursday. I’m considering making the drive as Stefani, even though the thought terrifies me. It’s also something that I’ve wanted to do for a while now. I’ve never done that before. I think it would be exhilarating!

I don’t know. What I do know is that I want to carve out some Stef time later this week, maybe even this weekend. I need to let my femme side out a little more often. I tend to be happier when I do.

A few related thoughts

11753914_10204790725275108_568390893_nI decided to buy a new wig a few weeks ago, but I haven’t had the chance to try it on. I’m still not ready to go to an actual wig shop and have one fitted, so like I did with my last wig, I bought it online. I was please with my last wig except that it was so long it quickly became unmanageable. It became a rat’s nest in the back and I decided it was best to retire it and buy a new, shorter one.

I’m hoping that I’ll have a chance to dress up on Monday. I didn’t take advantage of my last opportunity to dress up because I just wasn’t up for it. I was a bit lazy and the time needed to transform myself didn’t help. I would have had maybe an hour to enjoy being dressed before having to get undressed. I want a few hours at least. The last time I did become Stefani lasted all day, and it was wonderful.

I’m actually looking forward to dressing up, doing my nails, and just hanging out. I started a diet for 2016, which isn’t much of a diet as it is a change of a sort. I had been in the habit of eating fast food everyday for lunch, and I decided that I needed to start taking my lunch with me instead. I’ve managed to lose a few pounds, but I’m not satisfied. I’m around 190 now. I want to get to at least 170. I’m going to add exercises soon as well.

What I want is to look a little more like Stefani and less like Steven. I understand that I may not pass 100%, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to look as feminine as possible. I think that’s been my problem with motivation lately. I’m not happy with how I look, or how I feel. I look in the mirror and I see a fat middle-aged man staring back. It’s hard to make myself look or feel sexy.

I know I’m the only one who can change that, and I mean to. I put in for a vacation in early March and I’m hoping for at least a couple of quality days as Stefani. A friend in the metroplex wants to take me shopping, and I would love to feel secure enough in myself to confidently go out. I think I’m getting a panic attack just thinking about it!

In all reality, this part of me is that hardest for me to accept. I’ve gotten better in that I acknowledge that Stefani exists and I allow her to come out. I know she’s ready to head outside and become part of the living world, but I’m vain enough to want to look good while doing it.

 

Creepers

20151017_202814The one thing that still boggles my mind is the persistence and the abject perversity of the male gender, and as I live as a man most of the time, I find this repellent. I don’t know how women deal with it on a daily basis! If I’ve ever crossed that line from cordial to creepy, I apologize. I still struggle at times with how to deal with it. My male ego never has had to put up with this level of sliminess, and I know I’ve barely grazed the crazy.

I guess I should tell the story. I have a Flickr account where I post all my photos. Most are in good taste, but there are a few that cross the line a bit. I don’t post nudes or anything too risque, but I do try to look good and hopefully sexy, and by the comments I get, I do. Some of the comments are innocent enough, and some are a little distasteful. I can deal. I appreciate the validation and it’s a tremendous boost to the ego.

But there was one guy that seemed determined to push the envelope. He made it a practice to like most of my pictures, but it was his comments that began to creep me out. At first it was the innocent “beautiful” but that quickly devolved to sexual innuendos and blatant harassment. The final straw, at least for him, was when he started commenting what he wanted me to wear in bed with him.

I may have thanked him a couple of times in the beginning, but I never truly engaged him in actual conversation. Something about the way he commented prevented me from it. Sometimes people give off vibes, even from across the virtual wasteland of the internet. He definitely gave off creeper vibes. He felt stalkerish. I blocked him.

I know it’s to be expected, but I suppose I was ill-prepared for it. As a man, I’m invisible, I’m rarely bothered by anyone, and no one has ever complimented me on my looks, other than older, matronly types. Young single women can’t be bothered with a weirdo like me, and they don’t know about Stefani! Imagine the amount of rejection I’d get then!

But as Stefani I’m not ignored. I post a picture and it’s liked by dozens, if not hundreds of people, mostly on Facebook. I’m bombarded with friend requests, most that I delete if it’s from a man, and I get more than my fair share of messages. I sometimes respond, but again I ignore most if they come from men. I try to reply to other transgender and ciswomen, but I’m such a horrible conversationalist. I should try harder.

I know the ultimate solution is to delete everything and pretend I don’t exist. That’s not a viable option. I enjoy having an outlet where I can express my feminine side. I enjoy the attention, for the most part, and I deal with the negative aspects a best I can. I have to say that I do admire those who have transitioned are have begun to transition. I don’t know how you deal, but you have my respect. For you women who have dealt with it your whole life, I’ve grown to have a new found respect for you, too, and I haven’t even lived the worst of it, yet!

An unexpected sick day

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Things are looking up – or at least I am! Stefani Lara 2015

What a day! I went to work as scheduled, but I didn’t remain long. As I was about the step out of my car, I got a dizzy spell. It sucked! I don’t like missing work, so I decided to soldier on, like a good little employee, hoping the spell would pass. It didn’t While at the morning meeting, while our manger stood there leading our stretches, I mentioned the fact that I was dizzy to a co-worker who turned around and told our manager as soon as the meeting was over. I stood there, holding on the counter behind me, trying to maintain my balance. He sent me home.

I called a friend, feeling that I wouldn’t make it all the way home, and she let me crash at her place. I slept for several hours, confirming in my mind that I was most likely suffering from exhaustion. It happens from time to time, but thankfully not that often. When I finally got out of bed, she asked if I was hungry, which I wasn’t really, but I knew that I needed to eat to get my strength back up. Of course, I paid.

Afterwards, we went shopping. We hit a few stores, but money is a little tight, so all I bought was a blouse and a camisole. We went back to her place, and after deliberating whether or not to dress up, I did. Once again, she did my make-up, explaining all the steps she was taking to put me together, all the while discussing the different brands of make-up I should try, reserving what she uses herself until I gain some proficiency putting it onto myself.

I stayed dressed for all afternoon until I decided to come home. The more I dress up, the more comfortable I become with myself. It’s a wonderful sensation to lounge around as the woman I wish I were. I stepped out a bit into the hall way of her apartment, wishing I had the courage to walk out and into the light of the world, but I’m not ready yet. It’s scary, don’t you know, and I don’t want to rush my journey. I’m only now discovering who I am, and why share it prematurely?

Expecting Miracles

I just bought my first wig. I found one on Amazon the other day, on sale, with a great consumer rating. I’m not expecting angels to sing when I get it in, nor do I expect it to work miracles. It’s only one small piece of the puzzle, one I’m learning to put together to transform myself from an ugly duckling to a swan.

Years ago, when I first started to crossdress, I actually grew out my hair. I loved it, and I didn’t have to worry about my hair. I could curl it sometimes, but most of the time I left it down. I cut it all off about ten years ago, hoping to start to fit in at work and maybe move up the corporate ladder. That worked out great, may I add.

I’ve considered growing it back out, but a nearly forty-year-old man with long hair is looked down upon. In business, he’s not taken seriously. It’s sad, but it’s the truth. There are certain social expectations in regards to gender, appearance, and the like. We can rail against it, but there are norms to consider, and though many are trying to change them, I’m happy to play along, at least to a point.

I don’t feel the need for the world to accommodate itself on my behalf. That, I realize, is partly a function of my personality. I’m best if left to myself, and I am not the type that seeks to change society. All I ask is that I’m given all the respect due to me. That’s it. I know there are those who are incapable of giving that kind of respect, and that’s a shame, but I can only be true to who I am. I’m not a warrior. I’m not a fighter. I’m simply me, an artist trying to realize the truest representation of who I am.

Which brings me back to the beginning, and the wig that’s due to arrive early next week. I hope it doesn’t look too cheap, but it probably will, and that’s okay. I’m not expecting it to last a lifetime, just long enough to get used to the idea of wearing a wig. I’ll have to save up to buy myself a quality wig in the near future, and when I do, I’ll have to find a brick and mortar shop, one that is TG-friendly, to fit one correctly.

Along with that, I need to relearn to do my make-up, build up a wardrobe, and learn to be at ease in my skin. Right now, all I see is a near middle-aged man staring back at me when I try to transform into me. There’s a skill in becoming who I’m supposed to be, an art in transmuting what I am into what I’m supposed to be, and it’s one that I’m working to gain. I hope to have that piece of the puzzle in on Monday. While I profess that I’m not expecting miracles, and I have to admit that I’m praying for one. I really want to be beautiful again, like I once felt I was over ten years ago.

Looking forward

0517ed60af8bf43586449cb8c93679e18131e9-wmMea culpa! I haven’t been on in so long. I have no defense to offer you other than some lame excuse of being so busy in my real life. It’s pathetic, to be honest. I’ll try to be a better hostess and at least write once a week, both for you and also as a salve for my own soul. I need an outlet to just be me. I’ve missed that lately.

So what have I been doing that has kept me so distracted? I’m just trying to survive at work. There’s been a lot of craziness with new supervisors, a new store manager, and it looks like I may have a chance to move up myself! I haven’t offered a lot of details about my everyday life as a male. I work at a home improvement center mixing paint. It’s so exciting! Okay, it really isn’t, but it’s a job, and having been unemployed for a year, from 2012-13, I’m loath just to give it up.

I’ve worked retail much of my adult life. I’ve worked my way up to supervisory positions, going so far as to become a salaried assistant manager at a huge national retailer. I’ve put in the hard work, I earned the experience and knowledge, hell I even went back and earned my Bachelors, but that hasn’t helped me one iota. It’s all about kissing up, at least it has with my past two store directors. This one seems to care about productivity, and I’m putting in an effort to prove myself. I’m tired of working hard for so little. I deserve more!

The reason this is important to me is so that I can earn enough money to move out on my own. As much as I love living with family, there’s something disempowering about being a person in their late thirties – almost forty, ouch! – and living with mommy and daddy. I worked so hard to be on my own, got married and within a year I lost my wife, my house, my job, and even my car. I lost a lifetime. It’s taking me years just to get back to this!

So I want to move out on my own. I want to have the freedom to let me, Stefani Lara, out again. I want the freedom to sit in my living room, in a pretty dress or skirt, or even in a pair of exercise shorts or yoga pants, anything feminine, anything that lets me relax. I don’t have that know.

The closest I got lately was putting on a pair of panties and pantyhose under my male clothes as I drove down to the Dallas area this past weekend. It felt good, even if I had to do it under cover of my clothes. I could indulge myself for a while, enjoying the feel of knowing I could be Stefani to myself, though I had to show otherwise to the world.

That’s okay, for now. My hope is to move up and have my own place by the end of fall. I hope to translate that to a move down to DFW within a reasonable time frame. I think I’ll have more freedom to explore my femme side than I have up in the Panhandle of Texas. That is my plan. I just hope I can make it happen, the sooner the better.