I like wearing a dress

I like wearing a dress.

It’s not unusual to wear a dress unless you usually wear trousers. But here I was, in a dress for the first time in ages. And, as far as I could, I felt wonderful, almost girly as the soft satin swished around my calves. The swirl of the fabric delighted me. I enjoyed the .... well, all of it.

Note : This story touches on the wish that there was a group like the SisterDom or as I'm changing it to 'SisterDy'. There is also a considerable element of autobiography. Alys P

I am not unusual. I tell myself this almost every day. At least, not that unusual. I’m not a freak. I’m not a pervert. I’m a man – pretty masculine, oops wrong phrase maybe – fairly masculine in most aspects of my life but surprisingly, a man who loves the feel and touch and texture and feel and sensation of a wider variety of cloth and clothing than the typical 21st Century western male has available to him. And so part of me is Alys.

I am not perfect – but that is not too difficult for any of us to say who know the details of our inner failings. But nor am I a useless blot on the landscape.

I have worth, I am valuable, I am important, I am loveable, I am kind – at least these 5, and the greatest of these is loveable. These statements are things which sometimes need extra encouragement and endorsement. In the depths of depression or at any time when your own value has been diminished – it can be a hard place to get yourself out of.

When I say I am not unusual, I mean that the majority of my behaviours are middle-of-the-road. I am middle-class, middle-income, average height, a bit overweight (ie average!), middle-aged, middle-most-everything, as well as being white, anglo-saxon, male, heterosexual and faintly Christian.

BUT exactly which of the Facebook categories do I attach to my personal identifier. Do I use a pseudonym called JohnSmith, do I use an avatar called Alys, do I use my real name?

So – yes – this is one aspect of my unusualness - parts of me are Alys. I can no longer pretend. Although I may have to as my wife is virulently opposed to any form of relationship other than straight vanilla heterosexual.
Alys loves to wear my lovely red dress.

This weekend, for the first time in ages, I/Alys wore my size 22 lovely red dress. I wore it all day while I worked on tidying up and posting some more SisterDom stories as well as reading some favourite authors.

I loved the feel as it swirled against my legs. I loved the feel as it stretched in long unfamiliar, almost forgotten, ways against my skin. I wore no vest, no undershirt, no bra, just panties with pretty lace and a small bow (Marks & Spencers). I loved the tactile sensations and the can I say girly emotions as it was so different and so pleasing in such a non-masculine way. I loved looking down and seeing something with colour, something so excellently different.

The next day, I bought size XL glossy sheer tights at the supermarket – and I wore these for all of the next day. The tights made my legs feel different once I had struggled to reach my toes to put them on. But while I gained the delight of feeling my dress slide against the nylon mesh – I lost the immediacy of the dress swirling against my legs. Or perhaps what I had felt before was the dress brushing the hairs on my legs – uncertainty.

For the first time in decades, I could relax because no one was likely to interrupt. I was truly alone – no, not strictly alone, just on my own and not stressed about wearing a dress. New and unusual feelings.

And I could walk around the house, in the garden, into the empty country road with no concern about being hurt. The feel of the breeze between my legs reminded me of what I had been missing. When I did this the next day, wearing tights, it felt ….. different. Not better, not worse, ….. just different. Unlike some, I am willing to be tolerant of difference and to enjoy difference for giving alternatives.

Later, I put on my lovely dark purple satin-type top and went to buy bread, newspaper and send a package – and I wore it with confidence and a certainty that I could ignore any comment made by petty people. And to my pleasure and surprise, no comment occurred and I think almost nobody bothered to notice my unusualness in a little country village.

Recently, I got dressed, no dress for today – except for the panties. And I feel comfortable with both opportunities. The last few days have given me considerable certainty. I don’t want to be a woman. I don’t need breasts – although the magical opportunity to feel what they would feel like would never be dismissed. I just love non-male clothing.

And then more recently, I have had ten days on my own at the house. I have worn panties every day. I have worn my bra and bought Debenhams best ‘chicken fillets’ then ordered as well a small full-round silicon enhancer. I bought a slip to go over these – and a bra-extender because my bra was too tight. Most days, I have worn my favourite red crushed-velvet-effect dress. It’s calf-length and the swirl around my legs is delightful.

If you wonder about the bra – I went into Marks and Spencers and asked an assistant if it would be possible to try on a bra. She flickered for a moment and then said ‘yes, do you know what size you are?’. ‘I think so,’ was my reply ‘but could you measure me to be more certain – I think a 42C is about right.’

A short while later, she walked with me to the gent’s changing room and I picked up a t-shirt to cover from any casual gaze my selection of 6 or so from the lingerie department. Some minutes later, I said we needed a size larger and we went to look for the 44C bras. Obviously there were fewer – but again we walked to the changing area and this time she picked up a t-shirt.

By hindsight, I should have bought then the extender-straps I bought the next day and, probably, I should have bought the silicon fillers too. But it was just a little stressful despite her willingness to help. And she also said that, while unusual, men did come in and ask for help in selecting bras. Just taking the confidence to ask had made the task quite easy!

For four days since I have worn nail-polish and I love the glitter as my fingers tap the keyboard or while I do tasks around the house.

This afternoon, I went into a nearby town having rung the shop I was targeting to ask if there would be any problem trying on clothes. Since it was a ladies shop, it was obvious that I would be an unusual customer. When I arrived, 20 minutes to closing time, they were tidying up but it seemed no trouble to measure me and advise me as to size. Sadly, the Busty, Apple, Pear and Hourglass shapes were not suitable as I am a male Cylinder. But the lass was very helpful. She went and found some dresses in the stockroom when I asked if she had any – she advised me about the skirts I selected. I didn’t know that petticoat-bottomed prom skirts were back in fashion – I did enjoy the feel of it – and the tight waist. Once more, I behaved as if what I was doing was completely ordinary and no one made a fuss. Even though I had arrived wearing a bra and with a noticeable bust. Thanks, good lady.

What I want is the opportunity and variety of fabrics and materials and colours and choices so far beyond what the average western European male has at his command. I want the choice to be able to wear silks and satins and lace and slinky jersey, and strokeable velvets and furs. I want to get beyond black and grey and beige and brown and all the dark colours allotted currently to men other than when on holiday.

I want to know what it feels like to wear petticoats, to feel the stretch of correctly confining clothes designed to be both more and less than simple tubes of cloth. Men’s clothes are merely a camouflage – protecting the hidden interior from any possibility of show or glamour. I do not want that. I want more than that.

Sometimes, not too surprisingly, one of my characters will make statements about the joy of dressing or the excitement of the first panties, the first bra, the first stockings and so on. Not all of what I write is based on autobiography because –i- I do have an imagination –ii- I have read an amazing amount of fiction and non-fiction which have contributed to my resources. But there is a joy in dressing – and I enjoy sharing that with my readers.

Where I have difficulty still is in the determination of some to insist that cross-dressing is a form of being transgender or transexual. For me, I do not think I have rejected the idea of being a girl in a boy’s body – the idea never crossed my mind until I read that there were some who did think that way. And, yes, perhaps years of ‘this is what you are and what you do’ may have dulled my memory. But, again, yes, sometimes I call myself Alys – the man who enjoys wearing dresses.

And there is more than one group who have this view that clothing somehow is linked to sex and only to sex – and thus to sexual activity and sexual preference. There are women who fervently believe that the wearing of their clothes denotes an intention to become a woman, to act as a woman, to be a femme-homosexual. What a disastrously wrong view.

There are men who see dressing up as an intent to negate the penis – which for quite a number of the macho men and even more for some of the hmoosexuals – both the butch and the femme. But where does this meave me – a lad who just adores feminine clothing. It’s just so enjoyable. For considerable periods, it gives me more pleasure than the physical act of sex. Love – well, there’s a different matter altogether. Cuddling, hugging, squeezing, kissing – all those are lovely – but they mostly take less time than I can devote to a comfy evening en femme with the swish of hem around my legs, the gentle pressure of stocking, the tighter banding of the bra, the wonderful waft of perfume, the delicate slide of lipstick, - I loved all this and yet I had no intent, no interest in being other than I was. I was a man who loved feminine costume.

I carefully avoid the reaction of the over-religious. They cherry-pick verses from their over-interpreted stories based on ancient oral legend in order to validate their enormous range of intolerances and hatreds for anyone ‘not like them’. Ugly. And once in a while the Christians especially voice the meaningless ‘but we are all sinners’ implicitly overladen with ‘but your particular habit is a much worse sin than anything we do.’ Ugly.

It really bugs me that the sex-obsessed list-makers had added T to the LGB box. Yuk, Poo and Damn. What dumb cluck was so stupid as to equate gender and sex. Aaaaaargh.

Sex involves Lust and Body-fluids and Relationships. Gender is who you are inside.

There is a significant and vocal minority (as always) who promulgate the idea, if not the certainty that crossdressing is an example of gender-conflict. I can’t be bothered to argue. But, strangely, as far as I can analyse, the few available numbers do not support their statements.

Yes – there are people who undergo a real-life-test
Yes – there are people who undergo the drastic difficulties of sex-change surgery
Yes – there is a small percentage of medically identifiable ‘physically intersexed’ people
Yes – there is a small percentage with other physically provable gender anomalies
Yes – there are people who have a sexual fetish for some article or style of clothing
Yes – there are some people who enjoy the colourful aspects of drag
Yes – there are those who recognise in themselves aspects of the ‘typical’ member of the opposite gender
Yes – there are those who feel ‘they are locked in the body of the opposite gender’

BUT – there are many others (mostly men) who just enjoy the feel of female clothing and enjoy the opportunity to wear silks, satins and the like without fear or disapproval. As things are – across much of the Western world – women can wear male clothing often and easily. Somehow, to me, this is one area where the equality is NOT in favour of the male.

There is quite a lot of information about how to approach and go through the stages of the real-life-test and more than enough real and anecdotal evidence for how your life will –not may! – be disrupted as at least some of your close family, wider family, colleagues, neighbours, friends and acquaintances will strongly display their displeasure at your overt efforts to go against the norm.

The basic stages are quite obvious
Coming Out;
Physical Changes
Real-Life Test;
Gender Reassignment Surgery;

For the cross-dresser the stages are perhaps less drastic, generally less life-changing and, perhaps, more acceptable to the wider world. Please Accept Me. . But everything I have read or seen suggests that the key is CONFIDENCE.

Nothing is more overt than the cross-dresser who creeps along the pavement, avoiding every gaze, wearing poorly matching clothes and garish makeup. If you look at the galleries of pictures available on the web, it is startling and, for me off-putting, to see how many of the pictures involve miniskirts, over-blonde hair, enormous breasts, squeezed waists, bright red lipstick, garter-belts and stockings, split skirts, plunging cleavage, enormous jewellery. For me, any woman I met wearing such an outfit would be labelled garish and inappropriate. Sorry to those who truly believe that such an outfit is the epitome of femininity.

I want to be confident that, when I go out, I will not be labelled as ‘different’ let alone ‘wrong’. I grew up with a family motto of ‘not wrong just different’ but eventually learned that much of the world judges and prejudges by ‘that is different therefore it is wrong’.

John Wyndham had it right in the Chrysalids – (5 quotes)
“Once they get afraid they become cruel and want to hurt people who are different” and ..

“THE NORM IS THE WILL OF GOD, and, REPRODUCTION IS THE ONLY HOLY PRODUCTION and, THE DEVIL IS THE FATHER OF DEVIATION as well as a number of others about Offences and Blasphemies", and finally

“I shall pray to God to send charity to this hideous world, and sympathy for the weak, and love for the unhappy and unfortunate. I shall ask Him if is indeed His will that a child should suffer and its soul be damned for a little blemish on the body....And I shall pray Him, too, that the hearts of the self-righteous may be broken..."

"To be any kind of deviant is to be hurt - always," she said.

Whether harsh intolerance and bitter rectitude are the armour worn over fear and disappointment, or whether they are the festival-dress of the sadist, they cover an enemy of the life-force."

Some genuine authors say it so much better than I ever will!

Ask yourself some of the questions that ‘they’ will ask about you – especially in these times where anyone who confesses or is exposed as other than vanilla sexwise is relabelled as a predatory likely-paed*phile. In the grubby depths of the USA and UK (where some disgusting activities are performed by people who otherwise look absolutely decent and nice) the hypocrisy of these people against those who are discovered to be ‘unacceptably’ different is revolting.

Am I merely a decent person with an unusual hobby?
OR am I depraved and a risk to anyone and everyone who knows me?
IF so, what sort of a risk to them do I detect or do they surmise?

Personally, I cannot define any risk to anyone in my willingness to wear lovely clothes even if many will be unsuitable for my body-shape(!). But there are those who will hate, loathe, despise and disagree with my enjoyment.

Am I a normal person – I think so. I used to be sure. Now, I am not so sure. But whoever or whatever I am – do I like me, do I love me, am I comfortable as I am?

More complicated – for others who are aware of my confusion , are they comfortable with me, do they like me, do they love me?

What are the percentages for the aspects of me which I now see as ‘being different’.

Aspergers some estimates have this at 1% or 1 in 100

Averagely Incompetent Parents / dysfunctional - very vague data but if 1 in 5 families divorce we have at least 20%+; some authors go higher than 80%.

Boarding School in the 1960s 2%

Poor at Emotions and Empathy about 20 % - very vague data

Cross-dressing interest about 10%

IQ 140 approx 1 in 1000 0.1 %

I think these few factors add up to some certainty that I’m not average. But what are the percentages for ‘being middle-of-the-road, typical or normal’. How many people are actually ‘average’ ?

I am well aware that if you pull together a quantity of average mid-table data and look for a person or family which comes close – then it is regularly found that nobody is an excellent match.

I can’t remember which paper I read this in – perhaps the Daily Mail. Yhet built up a list of the factors which made up a typically average English family. Their 12 basic results were something like this :-
Average-UK-Man – height 5’10; weight 12 stone, age 43; wife 2 years younger; children 2; income £25,000, employed in the same job 5 years; IQ 100; commute 45 minutes; semi-detached house, 3 bedroom; car Ford 3 years old, etc.
They then tried to find someone who fitted these simple boxes. And while they could find people who fitted several, they could find nobody who matched every factor. It is indeed very difficult to be average at everything.

In this scenario, I have used estimates for some items (commute & car) but there will be very few who match even these 12 simple factors. And if you allow flexibility in these then how much flexibility and which ones are ‘less important’.

If I look into the mirror – I do not see a man who fits one single one of my ‘average’ guesstimates. Maybe when I was 43 I was within 10% for half of them. Now I am fatter, on less money, an older car, no second child etc etc.

I can say that I am middle-of-the-road for many other more subjective things. I am more-or-less Christian like many others, I think I am not very racist or sexist or ageist or disablist; the biggest difficulty with these concepts is that in my circle and in my town I am aware of very few examples of these minorities to whom I can actively interact and demonstrate by attitude and behaviour whether I am actually racist, ageist, disablist or genderist.

To my knowledge I know nobody who is openly homosexual, lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender or questioning; [although statistically, some of them must be!]. I know for certain of nobody who is adulterous, misogynist, abusive or abused – although there must be some in each category.

I do know for certain that some of my friends are less than perfect or have physical, emotional or other difficulties – and that by these issues they are ‘different’. I hope what I display to them is perceived by them as tolerance!

Without some personal knowledge how can I have adequate judgement about the glut of internet information of which a quantity is accidentally or deliberately biased. A colleague’s business motto used to be ‘access to information is a key to control’ – and I still think this is a valuable statement – information is useless without access, and information is only one of the keys to being in control.

I know one internet contributor who regularly and repeatedly writes as fact all of her opinions disguising them using the prefix “It is well known that” as a hoped-for confirmation that the specific subjective feeling which she has is, in her opinion, a generally held fact. The speed with which she, and many other internet bloggers, spin from the specific to the general and the general to the specific is dazzling.

‘They’ say to some people who present with an identifiable addiction, perversion or disability - “You are a kwobelt [invented word] – generally kwobelts delve and descend into worse and worse stuff – therefore this is the path that you are certain to follow! And I don’t actually care if you claim instead to be a crabelt – it sounds the same so you must be the same sort of repellent thing. Get out of my sight. I want to destroy you because you differ from my preferred categories.” Ugly – so ugly. So lacking in tolerance. So lacking in love (and many of them say they are ‘christians’) Hah.

This sequence from initial casual or minor interest to the degradations of addiction is NOT a typical or valid logical sequence. Your particular trend may fit this pattern but you are a specific and the generalisation is exactly that – general. You are an individual – and while the sum of available individuals summarises as a group the actual components can vary significantly from the calculated average. But the chain of thinking which produces this reaction does occur and it occurs often when difference is perceived as ‘wrong’. You cannot apply generalisations to an individual –nor can you say that an individual’s behaviour is widely applicable to the general populace. But people do it.

Again - ‘they’ will state as fact - you are interested in BDSM games, all perverts get worse, therefore children must be protected from you – not a proper sequence of logic.

Again - you carry binoculars; most people with binoculars are bird-spotters or paed*philes, therefore you are one of them and you also have a beard and sandals so you are liberal and ‘dodgy’. Judgement without facts! Pre-Judgement! Pre-judice.

Again - you are an obsessive train-spotter, obsession is sometimes a form of addiction, addiction will get worse unless you believe in the God of the 12 Steps., therefore you will lose your family and home unless you give up your fixated behaviour. No – not a general pattern even if true for some.

There is some truth in the over-used phrase - Addicts can only change when they reach rock bottom. The corollary being that addicts who can persuade themselves that they are coping will never change. Change only comes from within so nothing you as a friend can do will change them. This may be absolutely true for some addicts – but not for all. These are generalisations and are not necessarily applicable to each of the vaguely similar individuals who may be added together by outsiders to form that generality.

To express personal opinion as a ‘fact’ in such a way is not a proper use of internet. It is actually a form of intellectual bullying – and every charismatic cult leader does it. The bigger the lie and the more often it is repeated – so the more people will believe it.

There are those who say that transvestism and thence transsexualism and, for an MtF transition moving onwards from ‘I am a girl in the wrong body’ to ‘this is the body I need to match my mind and soul’ is a choice.

But it is NOT a genuine choice – it is a Drive – it is a Need – it is a Determination to live a New Life - even though that ‘choice’ has a significant risk of separation from family, friends, job, locality and original social groups, massive intolerance, hatred, disapproval, social isolation, cocktails of strong chemicals, physical mutilation by surgery and ongoing depression and mental stress.

Can anyone actually decide that all these often painful and frequently distressing results are a GOOD side effect of CHOOSING to wear a dress in public.

Even for the many who merely cross-dress rather than having a need for body-altering changes – there are enormous risks in the reactions of those who espouse ‘Good Solid ‘Christian’ [GSC] Values. And sadly, the great majority who merely cross-dress are generally male and heterosexual. But this is not a fact that the intolerant are willing to hear – as it suggests that these appalling, vile, lewd, perverts are too much like the ordinary. The really dreadful fact is that the allegedly ‘ordinary’ people of whom they approve already contain a quantity of behaviours which they would disapprove of if they knew about them. I think that the phrase self-deluded hypocrites may be suitable at this point.

As we all know, females can cross-dress with complete confidence that not a soul will complain or comment. A cross-dresser of the male variety cannot do that. Wearing pretty undies may be enough for some; wearing nighties enough for another; wearing skirts and dresses in the home may be enough for another. Having the support or even non-loathing of a partner can easily be sufficient for many. After that, further steps are directly linked to the confidence the dresser has in herself. If as a middle-aged male, I were to walk around with a bra, well-filled with birdseed or silicon – I would have to be accepting that notice might be taken of me and that I would have to be able to cope with any related comment.

In real life, I have gone out dressed in bra and blouse – albeit wearing trousers and an overjacket – but I noticed no untoward glances or intolerant comments. And I enjoyed myself. But I feel no NEED to go further – to wear makeup or heels in public. And I know that there are those who do have that additional need. And I know that the evidence, even if some of it is anecdotal, shows that they should be careful and even fearful. There are those who hate people and things that are ‘different’ from what they find acceptable. And some of these people call themselves ‘true christians’.

Many of the stories of the trans-world slide around the subject of hurt with all too many of the haters coming off badly because of their inner nastiness or even changing their minds – in real life the evidence is that this does not often happen. The mentors also vary between kindness, force, charm, and abuse. Sadly I have some confidence that kindness and tolerance are in short supply.

But beyond the stories – there are still to many media reports of vile behaviour to Transgender people. The significant publicity which has been gained by a few wonderfully determined people has made a number of fence-sitters display a public face (or perhaps mask) of acceptance and tolerance. Caitlyn Jenner being the most obvious recent example – it may be media distortion, but I have seen very few reports of obvious virulent unkindness being made to her.

I also do feel that confidence in one’s bearing, display and presentation are crucial in minimising the reaction of the ugly GSC crowd. If I go out wearing my bra and breasts, with nail polish and a pretty blouse – then I will often be ignored and can go on my way by demonstrating that what I wear and what I do is my business and I am confident about myself. Perhaps in a small town it may be possible to do what would not work in a city.

But that was somewhat of a digression – so onwards. Am I normal? Surely there is some considerable benefit in accepting that I am not ‘normal’. I know I am not ‘ordinary’. To be able to say with real certainty and confidence ‘I am different and out of the ordinary and I am proud of my differentness and specialness’ is a wonderful thing to be able to say.

I love being me – even though I would be quite pleased if some of my weaknesses were less obvious and caused less inconvenience. I would be happier if some of my characteristics were more welcomed and more tolerated – but I am who I am. On good days - I like me. On bad days - I just wish that ‘they’ would let me get on with my life.

And on yet other days, I do think that without this particular interest then parts of my life would have been easier. It is no fun being ‘different’ Or rather, if your difference is enough to be treated in any way as a social misfit – then that can be a really bad day.

So that is where I am – I enjoy wearing women’s clothes. I am confident enough that I can and do sometimes wear my preferred costume in public [even though I look exactly like a short-haired ex-rugby-playing six-foot overweight cylindrical male with not a trace of feminine on the outside and yet I am wearing a bra, blouse, skirt which are defiantly inappropriate]. All I have ever wanted is the ability now and then to cross-dress. For me – that is or would / could / should have been enough.

For those who hurt so much that they must go further - I urge everyone to tolerance.

For those who are intolerant then I hope you will find situations where sometimes you can bend enough to make a choice to be kinder. That IS a choice – because unlike the need to be non-heterosexual or non-heterogender becoming non-intolerant is a choice.

One thing I do hope is that once in a while a reader of my stories will go ‘that makes me feel better’ or ‘that’s a good idea’ or even ‘that taught me to be a bit more understanding’.

A second hope is that in some way one or other story will make one of us girls more confident about going out or coming out or getting out.

A third hope – is that there is something like the Sisterdom out there. That there are girls who enjoy helping one find that inner girlness. Oh how I wanted to be encouraged in my wearing of silks and satins. Anything other than the hatred that so often came the way of me and my sisters. Love, Kindness, Encouragement. Not so much to ask for - is it?

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