Now that Christmas is around the corner and New Year’s Eve is breathing down its neck, it is time for a recap of the last 12 months of crossdressing. It has been an eventful year, in which new chapters have been opened and others have been closed, never to be looked at again.
For the sake of whoever decides to read this, I decided to divide this story into the three parts that, I think, best portray the different aspects of crossdressing: the physical aspect, the clothing aspect and the mental aspect.
When I wake up, I notice it’s raining again, just like last friday. I haven’t got any classes today, but as I have got a lot of studying to do, I get out of bed and wander into the shower. After lifelessly standing there for about ten minutes, I come into terms with the fact the hot water will once again fail to cure me of the slight hangover that marks most of my friday mornings, so I turn off the taps and walk to my room. I make sure to lock the door behind me and open the drawer beneath my bed. I assemble an outfit for the next couple of hours and start by putting on my bra. Next, I take the panties I’ll be wearing and, after squishing my genitals into place, I quickly put them on. After hoisting my skinny jeans over my not-so-feminine mountainbiking-thighs and putting on a top and a blazer, I take an apple, turn on my laptop and sit down at my table. Now, even with my genitals being squished even further, the underwires of my bra carving into my ribcage and the label of my top itching away on a place I can’t reach, I am more comfortable than I have been for the last couple of days.
It is just past midnight when I hear one of my housemates open her door. I quickly turn off the little lamp above my table and try to keep as still as possible, whilst frantically trying to remember whether or not I locked my door from the inside. When my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, I can see that the handle is in its locked position. Phew.
When, a couple of minutes later, my housemate finally closes her door again, I wait another minute before turning the light back on. When I feel safe no one will notice that I’m still awake, I take my breast forms from the drawer beneath my bed and stuff them into the bra and dress I put on before I was interrupted by my housemate and her tiny blather.
Being a student, I run into the same problem over and over again: there always seems to be some month left at the end of my money. To keep my expenses at bay, I decided to move into the cheapest student house I could find, whilst avoiding the houses that made me wonder whether or not the rent included a monthly tetanus-shot. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long at all to end up with the house I’m currently still living in: an incredibly small former dockworkers house, built in the early 1900’s, which I share with four other, female, students.
I’m going through my browser history, in search of an online store I visited yesterday when I was looking for cheap wigs. A first quick glance doesn’t result in me finding the site I was looking for, so I decide to go through the sites I visited one by one. It turns out the first few pages I visited after deleting my browser history were some youtube videos on making hip pads. After that, I spent over 2 hours watching videos on the awesome Australian V8 Supercars racing series, starting with the incredible last few laps of kiwi Scott McLaughlin during the second race of the 2014 season. A couple of hours later, I was once again looking for some hip pads tutorials. Funnily enough, my somewhat inconsistent browsing behaviour is indicative for my interests in day-to-day life.
Why is it perfectly fine for a girl to wear her boyfriend’s baggy sweater, but does the idea of a guy wearing a tight-fitting dress shock a lot of people? This question seems to pop up a lot when talking about crossdressing and, in my opinion, is quite an interesting one. I don’t know the answer myself, but being a crossdresser and being a member of several online communities regarding crossdressing, I do have some possible explanations.
I am a 21-year-old Dutch guy, who’s studying in university. I can dream endlessly about traveling to faraway countries, but have somewhat limited possibilities of fulfilling this dream, as I’d probably have to sell a kidney to get the money together. I’m shy around people I haven’t met before, hate being the center of attention and prefer meeting friends to watch a game of football over partying until I can’t tell my arse from my elbow. I like doing sports and being outdoors in general and love taking hour-long walks. I prefer winter over summer, trains over airplanes and coffee over tea. I am shy but curious, insecure but honest and I’m a straight guy but like to wear women’s clothing.