Ricky

Somebody Swiped My Idea!

A while ago I wrote The Spot, in which our hero is transformed into our heroine by video magic into a woman and whisked to an exotic locale simply by opening a bottle of the sopnsor's dish soap. Of course he learns to like it and lives happily ever after in women's clothes.

Imagine my surprise when I saw this in the detergent aisle of the supermarket. I have to wonder if it would work for me if I started using the stuff.

Telling the Kids

Ouch, the things you learn from your kids! I suppose every parent goes through this sort of thing, but being able to talk with your now adult children reveals some interesting things you were not aware of when they were growing up. Specifically, I gained some insights into the age old question "Do we tell the kids?" I have a message for all you closeted crossdressers with children: you don't have to tell them, they already know.

TANSTAAFL

Tanstaafl. Sounds like a sneeze or something vaguely Russian. The meaning of the word is best shown in a story retold freely from the writing of Robert A. Heinlein, the inventor of the water bed and the coiner of the word. Seems a young man, newly hired as a traveling salesman, was passing through a new town about lunchtime. Stopping at a likely looking taproom, he enters to find a large sign stating: "FREE LUNCH WITH YOUR DRINK!"

The Talk Show

Hey wow, me on the television!

It all started when I got a call from someone with the Sally Opra Donahue Show. Their schedule said it was time to put a crossdresser on exhibit and they wondered if I was interested. Someone down there had been reading my columns, it seems. I patiently explained that I was known as the Bearded Lady for good reason, I had a full, dark, bushy beard and was unlikely to be seen as a woman. The only response was "Hey - kinky. That's great! The audience will love it."

Don't Sweat It

I have been reading TV literature for about twenty years now, and one thing I have noticed is that there seems to be an aversion to speaking about bodily functions. (No, I will not descend to the level of toilet humor, thank you. For that you can watch cable TV.) This always seemed to me rather odd, as we put so much effort into changing our bodies. Way back when, when I was experimenting with creating a more feminine figure, I would have loved advice on how to do it, but such intimate details were not available.

Spageti Straps for Crossdressers

We crossdressers are a creative bunch. With a little paint, some strategically shaped padding and no little imagination we can create a feminine exterior to match our interior being. Admit it now, when your are dressed from head to toe and there is no one else in the house haven't you ever stood in front of the mirror and sung some pop hit by your favorite female singer and thrilled to the applause from the looking glass?

Society Made Me Do It

It's hard to cope with having your world view turned upside down. As crossdressers we all know society disapproves of us. We hide in closets, shop in catalogs or venture timidly to the women's section if suitably inspired. For those of us who are significantly over the norm in size it is a challenge to find a nice dress. That's the conventional wisdom, isn't it?

The Skeptical Crossdreser

Help, I'm overdosed on TV newsletters, magazines books and handouts. Life has been busy of late, and just about everything I found in the PO box has gotten tossed into a pile at the back of the closet, waiting time to read it. So the holiday weekend came and I had time to dress up, lay back and read. I read it all at first, then found myself skipping around a bit, then jumping over whole articles on the title alone.

Size Discrimination

I am a victim of discrimination. Sure, sure, you've heard it before. What crossdresser hasn't experienced discrimination. Just put on a dress to mow the grass and you can absolutely rely on being discriminated against by your family, the neighbors, and the lawn care service. Go shopping for a new girdle and the prejudiced salespeople won't even consider letting you try it on in the changing room. Wear a frilly skirt to work and no one will compliment you on how the colors match your beard. A crossdresser's life is a hard one, but you already know that.

Shaving For The First Time

If a man in woman's clothing has a odd ring to it then a 6'2", 250# wolf in sheep's clothing is surely fair game for some hearty guffaws. If there is one thing serious about the situation it is that I have enjoyed bras, panties and garters for the last 20 years. I still do, but I only enjoy this apparel in the privacy of a motel room or other secluded setting. When I dress it is for the feel of the clothing and the intrinsic pleasure it brings, and this pleasure is largely separate from the rest of my life.

Security

The issue of security came up recently in a letter to one of my sisters. Security must be of overriding concern for many transvestites, and many of us would be in a poor position if they were found out. To me it seems that the security issue can be broken into two parts, public and personal.

The Right to Crossdress?

I'm a happy crossdresser, but I'm still confused. Maybe it's just me, but why are so many of my sisters so dissatisfied with their life, and that of their sisters? Lately it seems that all I see are articles about how we must fight for our rights, demand that our wives, children pets and the general public accept us uncritically, and grant us our every wish.

The Problem of Pockets

Something funny happened the first time my family spent a week at the now infamous home of Jim Bakker, Heritage Village USA. Since I am not a Christian and had to work anyway, I spent the week as a bachelor. Well, not exactly a bachelor, more a bachelorette. I hate that word, it is as awkward as some of the supposed "sexual-bias-free" creations that grace the media these days, and I have a whole new understanding of those libbers who object to those sexist terms.

The Perils of Sewing

There's something wrong here. It says on my resume, of which I have mailed out approximately 6.37 billion in the last year of semi-employment, that I am a highly skilled electromechanical technician. It says a lot of other glowing things, but in essence it means I can go into a factory somewhere and quickly understand and repair several millions of dollars worth of complex machinery that is doing something the normal maintenance staff cannot fix. At the risk of hubris I'm good at it too. So why is it that the common household sewing machine strains my abilities to the breaking point and beyond.

Overdosing on Dressing

Have you ever had a dream come true? Silly question, that - if you have been on the planet for long enough to be able to learn to read something good must have happened to you along that line. What would be a dream come true for a crossdresser? OK, OK, enough suggestions from the audience, I get the idea. Do you dream of being able to dress full time when not working, live alone, never need to consider anyone else's feelings, do what you darn well please when you want to do it? Unlimited freedom, self expression, fulfillment of your every desire!

Outing

Sometimes life is disillusioning. I have sat here in my closet for about twenty years now, and for the past five or so the door has been open far enough to hand out these columns. Believe it or not, I really don't have a great urge to fling the door open and come out in my finest. I know that I am too far from the feminine norm to ever be more than a conspicuous fraud, but it doesn't bother me. I enjoy dressing for the sake of dressing, and enjoy the company of my sisters once removed via the post office.

New Age Nonsense

Welcome, my sisters, into the world of the New Age. Listen to the formless music in the background. Hear the muted chanting of a choir of True Believers. Abandon your previous self to the teachings of Mother Earth. Feel the innate power of the mysterious Female Life Force flow into your sadly male body. Read the articles in crossdressing magazines filled with terms like "oneness", "karma", "pansexuality" and even "reincarnation." Recently I even learned that women have superior hearing to enable them to be better mothers.

My Qualifications as a Crossdresser

How ironic! While looking for something in my files the other day I found I have been writing about crossdressing more than ten years now. The problem is, I now realize I am completely unqualified to be a crossdresser, let alone a writer on the subject. Think about it - just what are the qualifications for a crossdresser? Surely you've read a multitude of "true life stories" in the crossdressing magazines. Perhaps if we were to distill all these stories we can come up with a set of qualifications for a true crossdresser.

My Dander Is Up

(Since I no longer have access to the article that got my dander up, I have let the author be anonymous in my response. You can probably figure out just what she said from the context.)

Pardon me, but my dander is up. I know that is a difficult, and potentially embarrassing to raise a dander while wearing a skirt, but by golly it's hoisted and flying in the hot air of opinion.

My Crossdressing Debut

Can you stand to read one more personal story about a sister coming out of the closet? I know that every CD newsletter uses these stories as fill when there isn't enough other stuff to put on the page, and that you have read a million of them, but this time I'm the one telling the story. For that matter I don't care if you read it or not, I'm gonna tell it anyway.

Moonies

I saw another one today. I was driving along a country road and over there on the left, by the well kept farmhouse was another of those rather weird examples of modern art known as the "moonie". Have you ever seen a moonie? No, I am not talking about some earnest and well scrubbed youth in the airport lounge selling flowers for the Korean Messiah, but rather the mushroom shaped and gaily painted depiction of someone's legs and nether regions that are sprouting on lawns all over country like, well like mushrooms.

A Model of Restraint

I am a model of restraint, I think. You couldn't tell it by looking at me, unless you measure the tensile strength of my corset strings, but you couldn't see that either. In the latest of my temporary jobs I have ended up in yet another machine shop, building yet another machine. With each of these jobs you meet a new group of men - not people, they're exclusively men.

Me and My Big Mouth

It has been brought to my attention more than once that I have a big mouth. I'm sure that you, my readers, have remarked on my talent for fearlessly offering opinion and advice from behind the safety of the printed page. Unlike talking, where my pontifications can be challenged by a loud "Oh yeah, that's what you say!", if someone out there wants to comment they have to take the time to compose their thoughts, put them on paper, find a stamp and mail the thing.

The Land of Black-and-White

I'm glad that in the twenty years since I wrote this things have changed appreciably.

Since you're reading this, I'll assume you have read at least one article where some learned person expounds on why men like to dress in skirts and such. You'll find reasons like "freeing the inner self", "expressing our femininity in a hostile world" or even " it just feels good." Somewhere in the list of the good things in being a TV will inevitably come a comment to the effect of "being able to wear a rainbow of colors instead of a gray flannel suit."

Joining The Club

The year 1989 marks the 100th anniversary of the Brassiere, as it was first called, an item of apparel dear to the hearts of all transvestites. I find it hard to conceive of a time without the bra, so integral has it become to feminine fashion in our culture. It and the jockstrap are the only garments that have an anatomical function limited to one sex; all other clothing takes its gender from the culture. A male wearing a bra can only be doing so for the pleasure of it, as we all well know.

An Accidental Meeting

Christmas.

I suppose it must be Christmas - my Facebook feed was filled with trees, Santas and such trappings, masses of frosted cookies, reindeer with red noses and Donald Trump in various compromising yuletide positions. As if we didn't get enough pictures of him all the rest of the year… (Could he really do that with eight not-so-tiny reindeer?)

Dressing In Cold Weather

I am developing an acute case of envy for those of you who live in the sunny clime of California. Here in the Northeast the trees are turning colors and the frost is on the pumpkin. If it would only stay on the cussed pumpkin I wouldn't object, but it is also invading my apartment, and wardrobe drawer.

Female Bonding Ritual

If you've ever left your own house in a dress you've probably encountered the classic dilemma: to go through the door with the stick figure with a triangle that is supposed to be a skirt or the door with the stick figure without that silly triangle. Have you ever stopped to consider that there is absolutely no way to tell if the stick figure without the skirt is wearing anything or simply the outline of a naked man, reduced to it's simplest skeleton?

Dressing for Practicality

Sometimes I wonder if the entire world is crazy or if it's just me. For quite some time now I have been staying home unemployed while my wife goes off to work or school. Being unemployed is not the greatest thing in the world, but it has given me a great deal of time to be dressed, and therein lies the source of my bemusement. Tuesday to Thursday I get up after everyone has left, Ricky gets dressed and is alone until shortly before the school bus arrives in the afternoon. I am a solitary dresser, I'm not used to having anyone around when I wear a dress.

A Discrete Public ID

We're a creative bunch, those of us males who like to wear women's clothes. I've never seen a bunch of folks so intent on inventing new words to describe every little nuance of just why they do this or wear that. My sisters seem to have an endless capacity to transform every Greek or Roman root for two into some new combination of syllables that exactly describes their motivation for putting on a dress.

Differently Dressed

I'm confused. Well, more than I usually am, and that's a bad sign. I need Identity, I need a Label to pin my hopes and dreams to. I thought I was a Transvestite, but lately I have found out that is too clinical a word and I shouldn't use it. So I tried being a TV but the rabbit ears kept falling off my head and the satellite dish was just unbearable.

The Crossdresser's Placement Agency

With apologies to those of you who weren't around to listen to radio in the sixties, I'll start this with a famous quote. In the immortal words of the Chicken Man: "They're everywhere, they're everywhere". Crossdressers, that is. In the last week everywhere I look I see a crossdresser, right out there in public.

The Control Group

I have been indulging in a solitary vice again, but don't worry - I mean reading, not what you thought. While perusing the Skeptical Inquirer I came across a review of an odd little tome of pseudoscience called Dressed to Kill: The Link Between Breast Cancer and Bras. Now really, what would your average brassiere obsessed crossdresser do but immediately sign on to the library computer and get a copy delivered to the local library to find out what's going on here. You didn't think I would pay for the thing, did you?

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