18 March 2015

Windows: Dream Dressing

hat I mean here is dreaming of getting dressed, not the classical dreaming in sleep with REM etc. but either “day dreaming” or what I call “dusk dreaming”, those last thoughts of the day on hitting the hay and getting ready to enter the Land of Nod

First a mini ObserVation: Earlier when I could not get to sleep, either through stress or excess coffee/tea at a much to late an hour or both, the method that usually worked to relax and drop off was to imagine in slow motion and in as much detail as possible, dressing myself as a woman. I would start with putting on shape ware, followed by stockings, makeup, a dress, jewellery and heels. Well I usually never got (I think, difficult to remember the next morning) beyond makeup or maybe a dress, as I was soon gone to the world. Some may say the opposite should have happened, but no, I just nodded off. 
Now since having my own wardrobe and the rare chance to enjoy it (see last post: Getting ready to go out) this method does not work anymore. I think it could be that I really know now how it feels to dress, instead of just imagining it, and because I can’t dress as often as I want, this introduces another stress (frustration) that blocks the sandman in some way. 
Any ideas? 
Please note: If any of you are going to ask what I do now to drop off, forget it, I will adamantly decline to say anything as this may be used etc. etc.. 

Ok and so to a day dream sequence from the past. 
I must have suppressed this next memory, or filed it away under “of no present interest”, but it surfaced again recently triggered by finding some old photos of my grandma and Abigale looking over my shoulder. There was a time my parents and I (a reluctant tagger on in this case) went regularly, almost every weekend to East London to visit my Nana to see how she was doing. We would fill the fridge, stock up larder and then take her out for a drink(s) until the pubs closed. We did this for as long as I can remember. Of course as a kid I wasn’t allowed in pubs, either the pub had a “family room”, or if not Dad would go and collect the drinks and we would stay put in the car. Invariably with the last round of the evening, he would “forget” to return the glasses and only “remember” them again when we were well and truly home. It’s interesting what embarrassing things stick in one’s mind! 

Anyway, I have a scene before me. I must have been somewhere between 12 and 14. My recollection was sitting in the back of the car homeward bound (glasses under the seat), bored as usual, and trying to keep my mind off being on the edge of being permanently car sick. This was due to the combination of the smell of plastic seats and two chain smokers puffing away up front. It was around midnight and we had to drive east back along the Commercial Road to the outskirts of the city. As my parents in silence, concerned themselves with driving through the Kray Brothers’ territory (Ronnie and Reggie were at the height of their notoriety at the time) and trying to keep on the move by hitting a green light sequence (stopping was not a good idea), I stared out at the endless chain of shop fronts sailing passed bathed in a dim sodium yellow light.

Most of the shops were dark, but every now and then one would be lighted up and I could get an idea of what they were selling. I of course was only interested in shops selling girly things. When I spotted one I would imagine myself going in (the door was always open) trying on whatever they were selling dresses, shoes, lingerie whatever. I would then leave, keeping my choice on and walk hurriedly on in the direction of home, of course magically keeping pace with the car. With the next lighted shop I would repeat the “experience”, this time either picking up another garment, jewellery or some makeup. I had “won” when I was fully transformed before we got home.
A variation on this, when the weather was not wet and windy, was starting out naked and before getting caught (which never happened), seeing how long it took to get “respectable” in some way.

I think I must have reached the Land of Nod a few times over the years, as I remember being awakened from my slumber on arriving home.

10 March 2015

ObserVation: Getting ready to go out

his observation was to be a part of another post in preparation, but I thought it would stand on its own. I tend to go off at tangents when writing or talking, this usually leads to a certain amount of confusion on the part of the reader or listener. And when I sporadically have to get up and teach, I observe the whole range from the audience, starting with entertaining through to total bewilderment. This is also reflected in when I’m finished talking. Some people come up to me and we chat further, but the majority just shake their heads and leave in silence. 
I think this behaviour (not the head shaking and leaving in silence) is due to also writing code in various computer languages and my going off at a tangent in the real world equivalent to writing subroutine code.

[Ed: To misquote one Miss Ann Elk “That’s her theory, it is hers, and belongs to her and she own it and what it is too”]

One difference is that with computer code you are automatically returned to the main thread, with my airing’s this is not always the case and even I get lost sometimes. 

[Ed: Hey!]

Oh yes, you see what I mean I was off again. 

I get to dress about 3% of my time and it is usually spontaneous or at very short notice. This is due to being hardy at home and when I’m at home it has to coincide with my wife being at her theatre group or at a film with friends. When the 3% time slot arrives, I start to panic instead of enjoying the chance to “doll myself” up. This is mainly due to getting frustrated trying to remember what I have and where I’ve stashed it! 
This remembering what and where, has to do with my online shopping routine. When the itch gets me, I pull up the bookmarks to the various online shopping stores that cater for my size (see footnote) and log in with my account (not Abigale’s). I browse and sometimes buy, when the article arrivals (everything to my work address), I try it on once (yes, when possible at work when everyone has gone), sigh, sneak it home, pack it lovingly away and in some cases totally forget where and what it was! 

Everything I have is in the cellar, which is big enough for my hobbies and my clothes and shoes (at the moment that is!). As the cellar is a total chaos, the wife tries her best to steer clear of the place apart from the rare occasion she brings me a cuppa (fortunately I get fair warning, so I have time to kick off my heels before she enters). Following delivery she doesn’t just turn around and leave, but backs up in case there’s something lurking around other than myself. I dread the day when I get the ultimatum to clear up and then have to explain the stack of A3 envelope boxes that are ideal for cheap heel storage. 

Where was I? 
Yes, even if I eventually have chosen what to wear and after digging around in the chaos I find it, my dressed phase is about the same amount of time a manikin has to change between cat walks! 

All very frustrating. 

This frustration is part of the reason for my change in attitude to getting dressed and going out with my wife.

[Ed: I was wondering when you would get round to it!] 

Yes I know, but the above has something to do with the below. 

In the pass when we were going out, I would be ready in no time. This was mainly due to an almost non-existent interest in choosing what to wear from a self-inflicted dull and drab boy wardrobe. Being ready way ahead of ETD (Estimated Time of Departure) the waiting game would begin. After a while I would start my recital of groaning and moaning with the classical “we will be late!” or “you had the whole afternoon to choose…” 
Then after what seemed and was ages, she would appear to commence the first round of many presentations with that “look” of helplessness in her eyes. 
Without paying any real attention to what she had on, I would look up and say “perfectly alright, let’s go”. With her built-in feminine voice decoder all she heard was a flat robotic “it will do”, she would then about turn and be off into the gloom. I would then refocus on the game I was playing on my IPad and decide if to take of my coat or sweat a little longer. 
Time would slowly pass, the following rounds all having the same outcome. Eventually I would start feeling somewhat sticky and decide to remove my coat and take a shower too fresh up. On reappearing, she would invariably be wearing again the first costume of the evening. I would get that other “look” with a “come on! What’s keeping you, haven’t you seen the time? Typical!
I would then throw something on again in record time and we’d be off with yours truly in the dogs and the evening hardy started.. 

Now it’s different, yes different. I can know relate - being sensitised in my own small way to getting dressed as a woman - to what she was going through and I now realise that in the past I was of no help in anyway, just the opposite. These days I get ready as usual, the Ipad is open but instead of a game it’s usually my colour coded Pinterest pin boards of clothes, heels and makeup. I wait and browse thinking about what Abigale would like to have worn that evening given the chance and guts to do it. 
When my wife appears, I am critical but not destructive, ask her to turn around and display, interact using words with more than one syllable, go with her to the wardrobe and browse with her, discuss and take into consideration the weather for the evening, the ambient of the venue, etc. 
Because of this there are fewer “rounds” and we are still invariably late when we leave, but thats ok, the main thing is nobody is in the dog house. 

52/54 EU dresses and slips sometimes 54/56, 43 EU heels (wide fit if possible) and 115C-D bra. Concerning bra size, underwear in general and figure enhancing contraptions - all a science in itself - a separate post will follow.