omething weird happened in the second half of last year...
[Ed: Madam is repeating herself.]
I'm what?
[Ed: This is exactly how you started the previous post.]
Nothing wrong with that; if anything, it’s got weirder since then!
[Ed: True. Please note, dear reader, that the difference compared to the last CTM (Clothes Transfer Manoeuvre) in the previous post, ‘Hand-Me-Downs’, is that the items are no longer worn clothes making way for new; rather, they are brand-new clothes of the wrong size which have found their way into Madam’s—I beg your pardon—into ‘Sir’s’ wardrobe, instead of being sent back.]
Thank you for that, whatever it was. Now, go and put the kettle on.
The Nightie
As recorded in the previous post, Mrs. A was again browsing her favourite online clothes shopping sites looking for a nightie and had picked out one in an EU 52/54 (UK 24/26) that was on sale.
She asked my opinion and I said it looked good—just right for this hot weather—adding that it looked more like a summer dress than a nightie. She agreed and remarked that she would probably wear it as one if it fitted. As she wasn’t sure of the size, she measured her hips; the result was at the upper limit for a size 54. She was indecisive about whether to buy it or not.
I jokingly said: "Order it, and if it doesn’t fit, I’ll try it on. If that doesn’t work, you can then send it back."
In the back of my mind, I had a feeling there was a chance I could get it on, as 54 is my minimum women's size and, as it was a ‘nightshirt’ style, it should be a little oversized to be comfortable in bed.
Normally, I wouldn’t be so bold as to say anything about trying on her clothes, but following the experience in my previous post, ‘Hand-me-downs’, I felt braver.
I thought she would laugh off my proposal, but instead, she came over and started measuring my hips!
In good humour, she said: "It looks like it could fit you, so if I have problems with it, you will get the chance to try it on—and if it fits, you can also wear it in bed."
The order went out and was scheduled to be delivered on the following Monday.
Mondays are not a good day for having to open the front door, as I usually spend the morning—while Mrs A is at her theatre group—in a dress and heels. It is never a good idea to have the doorbell ring then...
Were was I? Oh yes.
It was a Monday with no parcels scheduled for the week, so there was a good chance nothing would arrive or come early.
I was wearing a dress, cardigan, and heels, and was taking a few pictures before starting a session at the piano.
And, as you probably have guessed,
the doorbell rang.
I’ve never swapped a dress and heels for joggers and a T-shirt so fast! I shouted ‘Coming!’ as I ran up the stairs and, with bravado, opened the front door. The postman was a little taken aback but quickly recovered and handed me a parcel. It turned out to be a belated birthday present from a relative for Mrs. A. I closed the door and breathed again! On returning to the cellar, I found the clothes I had been wearing strewn across the floor.
Well, Monday arrived. Just before I was going to take Mrs. A to her theatre session, the doorbell rang and I saw the DHL man walking back to his van. I was relieved; the one and only delivery scheduled for the day had arrived and we were at home.
I opened the door to find the package with the nightie on the doorstep. We had enough time to open it, and Mrs. A tried it on over her clothes; it fitted quite well.
I was a little 'disappointed', and it must have shown. On removing it, she started laughing and handed it to me. "Go on, try it on! If it fits, we can both wear it!"
Well, I had no problem with the fit and, by default, I suppose it now belongs to both of us!
[Ed: The blue nails are with the compliments of ♊️—or do you think she wears them like this all day?]
Of course they don’t think that! It’s not as if I wouldn’t like them so, although a little shorter would be more practical. I tried to match the colour with one of the shades from the nightie.
That was over a month ago, and she has been the only wearer of the nightie up to now. This is a shame, but at least I know she is not against me wearing it if I get the opportunity.
This revelation alone is a step in the right direction, and I am happy with this knowledge even if I probably won't have the chance to put it into practice. Of course, I shall have to encourage her to buy another one in a different style; this would allow me to pick the one not in use.
The Summer Dress
In September last year, Mrs. A was again in her ‘Buy Clothes Mode’ (BCM). She ordered a few things for herself and, so she didn’t have a guilty conscience, something for me: some new briefs. I at least had a say in the matter; they had to be fly-less and in any colour other than boring white.
I hinted that I would rather have a selection of panties in different colours, which earned me a rather funny look and the remark that she wouldn't be able to wash them at high temperatures.
I dropped the subject. For the briefs, the only colours available other than black were light and dark blue, so I ended up with three of each. I wanted them fly-less, as a fly plays havoc when one is using panty liners.
So, that is enough about flies. What I have just realised is that she wasn’t against me wearing colourful panties per se...
Mrs. A unpacked everything and handed me my briefs. She had also ordered some underwear for herself and a cheap summer dress for wearing around the house in the hot weather. She tried the dress on and was disappointed to find it was far too big for her and would have to go back.
I, being a little more adventurous since the nightie incident, let loose my magic mantra—"It would probably fit me"—and waited for a funny look followed by a laugh. I didn’t expect anything would come of it, as this was a proper summer dress and not a piece of patterned cloth to be worn in the dark.
I was gobsmacked when she took it off and handed it to me.
With a smile on her face, she said: "OK, try it on!"
I immediately removed my T-shirt, slipped the dress over my head and let it fall. I adjusted it slightly, smoothed it down and turned towards her.
She looked a little surprised and, without laughing, said: "It fits! You could use it as a nightie. Or, if you like, wear it around the house. In this weather, it would be breezy around your stockinged legs."
Then I heard myself say, trying not to sound too excited, "OK, I’ll wear it."
"Good," she said, "then we don’t have to send it back."
And so, it ended up in the wash basket.
A few days later, now washed and neatly folded, it was ‘officially’ handed over to be stored with my stock of hand-me-downs.
Of course, at the next opportunity I had alone, I tried it on with heels.
So, this is another milestone: the first was when she bought me my first pair of heels, and now, indirectly, my first official ‘for home use only’ dress!
I must say, the whole thing is so surreal; I now have a summer dress that I don’t have to stash away in the cellar, but can wear openly whenever I want. I am happier at the moment than I have been for a long time. Of course, what we define as ‘openly’ will have certain restrictions connected with it, but I think it’s a start.
The next step—and this may sound a little crazy—was to ‘force’ myself to wear it, just as I did with the tops I inherited from Mrs. A. Perhaps this reluctance is not so crazy when one think about it. Until now, I have only ever worn my ‘female’ clothes in the confines of the cellar or around the house when alone, never openly.
To break this habit with the new dress will take some effort, but I shall do my best to do so and enjoy the experience of lounging around in a dress when the mood takes me.
The only downside is that I wouldn’t have bought this specific dress for myself. The pattern is ‘all right’, but not something I would have picked. I checked the website where Mrs. A bought it and saw other summer dresses in the same price range made of soft jersey.
Here is a selection of dresses I would rather have. Maybe next time I can coax her into letting me pick ‘her’ next summer dress...
So, I said, as neutrally as possible: "OK, I can give it a try."
That night, after Mrs. A had gone to bed, I retrieved the ‘nightie’ from my ‘official’ stash. I stood there and realised I was unsure of how to proceed. Although I was ‘allowed’—if not encouraged—to wear it, I was, as mentioned before, rather embarrassed by what I was about to do. Instead of putting it on and then walking into the bedroom, I carried it to my side of the bed. I turned my light off, slipped the dress on in the dark, and climbed into bed.
I pulled the dress down over my knees, and the next thing I remember was waking in the middle of the night with my bladder announcing its desire to visit the bathroom. Half-asleep, I realised something was not quite right as I made my way through the dark.
I entered the bathroom, flicked on the light, and was confronted in the mirror by a floral bouquet on a backdrop of blue!
Then, I was fully awake!
The sight and the sensation of the dress caressing my freshly shaven legs as I moved around was something I could certainly get used to. And over the next few nights, I did!
I finally grew accustomed to putting the dress on in the bathroom before bed, as I realised I wasn't getting any funny looks from Mrs. A when I wore it. Sometimes I would read in bed and, one time when she came in and saw me, she smiled and commented on how ‘colourful’ I looked with all the flora on the dress, at which we both laughed.
Some mornings I would wake very early—unable to get back to sleep after one of my ‘walks in the dark’—and go downstairs to sit in my cosy armchair with a cuppa and a book, still in the dress. One morning, Mrs. A came down and, seeing that I had my legs ‘unladylike’ and too far apart, she remarked humorously that it was inappropriate to sit like that in a dress! I replied, also in good humour, that it wasn't a problem when one was alone.
With a flourish and a mock-insulted look, I pulled my legs together, tilted them at a slight angle, and raised my heels as if I were wearing stilettos. I then smoothed down the dress, adjusted the hem over my knees, gave my legs a little wiggle, and offered her a broad smile. She chuckled at this, sat in her own chair, and began to read.
[Ed: How about keeping a pair of your heels handy behind the armchair? When she comments on your legs again, you could whip them out, put them on, and then adjust your pose accordingly?]
That would be amusing, but I’m not quite ready for the chain reaction of explanations that would follow.
[Ed: Will you ever be ready?]
Good point. We shall see how this dress/nightie phase works out, and then we can plan the next level. Something to think about is wearing my stockings and the dress in combination, as she sees me in the stockings all the time anyway.
[Ed: The stockings will have to match, though.]
Therein lies the problem; I only have a dark blue pair, not light blue.
[Ed: If that isn’t an incentive to add to your extensive collection, I don’t know what is!]
Another good point; I shall look into it.
Now, where was I?
I have the impression that she likes me wearing the dress/nightie and finds it rather amusing. I might be reading too much into it, but I think she is pleased to sense that I am happier now that I have broken the barrier and finally started to wear my ‘hand-me-downs’ and my new ‘overs’.
I have become used to wearing the dress/nightie in bed and before getting dressed, but I am not yet comfortable wearing it as a dress around the house. I suspect that after so many decades of wanting to, I may never fully get used to it. I shall have to wait and see how routine it becomes.
I must admit, at this time of year, sitting around in a summer-dress-cum-nightie is a little chilly, but I want to experience wearing it for as long as I tactically can.
I really must persuade Mrs. A to buy me another dress... or perhaps a proper nightie.
The Joggers
Sorry to sound like a broken record, but this time it was November and Mrs. A was again in her BCM. She ordered, among other things, a pair of jogging bottoms (Sweathose in German) and a sweatshirt.
I removed the joggers I usually wear around the house and started to pull this potential addition to my wardrobe up my stockinged legs. I immediately realised they were a lot smoother than mine and glided up without any resistance.
Why are women's clothes so much more comfortable than men’s? OK, heels are not comfortable for long periods— [Ed: Long!!]—alright, short periods as well, which of course doesn’t stop me wearing them at every opportunity.
As I fastened the cord, I realised they were exactly my size, apart from the length; they were typically shorter than my usual trousers, showing more ankle.
Mrs. A gave her approval with a nod, followed by: “Hope the floral embroidery doesn’t disturb you.”
The what!?
As this is my blind side, I hadn’t seen it while pulling them on. I turned, looked down, and ran my hand over it.
“Nice,” I said. “Not sure I would wear them to the gym, but they're fine for around the house, of course.”
She just looked at me and said: “With a long T-shirt, nobody would notice.”
I wasn't so sure about that, but I let it ride.
I have added here a close-up of the embroidery. It looks quite good; it is a shame that male attire doesn’t feature more ornamentation. Another giveaway that these are women's joggers—aside from the embroidery—is the presence of loops on the left and right so they can be hung up. In the picture, you can see one of them at the top right.
I can understand having loops on dresses, where there is often little in the design to anchor them to a hanger. I have a few evening dresses with ‘safety’ loops, and they are quite necessary; one just has to ensure they are tucked out of sight after putting the dress on. However, I don’t see why they go loop-mad with almost all female wear. Perhaps with an elegant pair of trousers, but joggers!?
The Sweatshirt
And now to the sweatshirt in pigeon/royal blue below. The size on the label was as ordered but, as with the summer dress, it was simply too big for Mrs. A. And, as before, I ended up trying it on; it fitted perfectly and was very comfortable.
Since hearts—as well as bows—are typically feminine motifs (likely due to marketing), I don’t think I shall wear it out of the house or when we have visitors. However, around the house, it is no problem at all, and I have worn it quite often over the last few weeks.
She laughed and said: “It’s not only your back that makes the front longer—it’s because you don’t have a bust!”
Of course! Why didn't I think of that?
It makes sense; as I am usually flat-chested, and most wearers of this sweatshirt have something up front to lift the material, the hem would normally sit at roughly the same height as the back.
[Ed: You will have to measure the front and back to see if there really is a noticeable difference...]
Matter of fact I did. It was 2.4 cm.
She was joking, of course, and I laughed along, but I unfortunately missed the chance to see where the conversation might have gone had I humourously tried to carry-out the ‘experiment’.
It isn't as though I lack experience with bras; I have a colourful collection of my own and certainly wouldn’t need any fruit, as I have professional inserts to fill the cups. I’ll keep this ‘bra-wearing experiment’ in the back of my mind and see if I can subtly bring up the topic again sometime...
[Ed: And while you're in ‘bra mode’, you can check the height of the hem of the sweatshirt and see if the 2.4 cm is correct...]
Good idea!
So, here are my ‘hand-me-overs’: the summer dress and sweat-top on the right, and my joggers on the left. They are now stored safely with my hand-me-downs from the last post.
Well, after wearing the dress as a nightie for some time, it eventually had to go into the wash basket. The next night, I was back in my usual night attire, and I must admit I missed the feeling of it in bed, as well as the sensation of the fabric against my legs. The following morning, I was asked how I had slept and had to admit that I missed ‘my dress-nightie’.
Nothing more was said until we found ourselves after breakfast, in our comfy chairs drinking a second brew and absorbed in our lPads. I was formatting pictures for this post, thinking it was finished, while Mrs. A was browsing her shopping sites.
After a while, she surprised me by saying: "I’ve been looking at some nighties for you and have added a few to the basket. Do you want to have a look?"
I was really taken aback. I had hoped to keep the conversation going about possibly getting another 'dress' or a nightie, and I was thrilled she had taken the initiative! If I had heard correctly, she had more than one in the basket. This didn’t necessarily mean I would get to keep them all, but it was a start.
Trying to keep my enthusiasm under cover, I said as coolly as possible: “Of course! Show me.”
She handed me her iPad. There were three nighties shown. One was exactly what I would have picked; the other two were a little plain, but it was a beginning. Although I have nothing against nighties, I was more interested in dresses that could be used as nighties—a subtle difference.
My mind went into turbo mode, wondering how I could go with the flow while steering her towards the dresses. I asked:“What about dresses suitable as nightwear?”
She said there were no cheap summer dresses on sale suitable as nighties and the others were too expensive.
I knew something was wrong there; only a couple of days prior, I had found several cheap dresses on that very site. Not wanting to give the impression that I’d spent hours browsing, I quickly opened the site on my own iPad and showed her the three pages of summer dresses I'd found.
“Oh! I forgot to look there!” she said, and started to browse.
Since we were both logged into her account, we could browse together.
I suggested: “While you look, I will too; we can both add things to the basket and then prune the list later.”
During this ‘gathering phase’, I added quite a few dresses and nighties, checking that the size was at least an EU 52/54 or 54/56. I’d rather they were too big than have to send them back. The size 48/50 of my current dress must have been an error, as I can usually never squeeze into anything that small.
There was one dress I really wanted that was only in size 52. I added it to the list and hoped it would fit if it ended up on the order.
I could hardly believe that our discussion about styles, patterns, and colours was not about clothes for Mrs. A, but about how I would look and feel in them! We discussed whether an A-line cut would influence the size choice. Because Mrs. A regularly watches bridal programmes, she often asks my opinion on gowns, so we have discovered we have very similar tastes.
We are usually in accord regarding what suits a bride. I am actually more interested in prom dresses than bridal—something for my ‘Abi’s bucket list’ that I shall go on about another time. See my Pink Prom Dress posts.
[Ed: Especially with the bolero.]
Yes, obviously. Without it, the look would not be complete. With the second dress, the material and a zip would have given the game away—it would be clear that I wanted a proper dress and not a nightie substitute. The third also has a zip running up the whole back, which is again not suitable for bedwear.
[Ed: With your back, you couldn't have even reached the zip, let alone pulled it up.]
True; I was never good at contortions.
When we checked the basket, we had both picked the same items five times! However, we had gone a bit mad—there were 12 articles on the list. We had to reduce the count. After some ‘maybe next times’ and observing Mrs. A’s reactions, we ended up with four nighties and three dresses.
I had hoped a few more would stay on the list, but I was glad with the result. The undertone was that she expected a few would be going back, and I had to accept that.
The order went out and while we wait, here the picture gallery of the collection.
The four nighties are all between sizes 54 and 58, so they should be fine.
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The three dresses were chosen for being ‘suitable as nightwear’. The red and green ones fit the bill, but the blue one is more shapely around the waist. Since it was only available in a 52, I’m sceptical, but it was worth a try. If it doesn’t fit, it will be the first victim of the ‘returns’ pile!
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So they arrived. I was caught between being happy that I now had ‘official’ dresses and nighties that I had chosen myself, and a sense of apprehension that I would diplomatically have to choose what would stay and what would be sent back.
I didn’t want to show how eager I was to open the box and try on my ‘known’ girl clothes—as opposed to my ‘secret’ girl clothes in the cellar. I tactically waited until Mrs. A made the first move.
In the afternoon, she suggested: “Shouldn’t you go and try on your nighties and dresses?”
Hearing her say that was surreal—slightly unbelievable, even.
I replied: “Yes, good idea.”
While she was downstairs in the kitchen, I made a beeline for the guest room where I store my ‘known’ hand-me-downs: my recently acquired summer dress, top, and joggers. It is also where I keep my extensive, multicoloured collection of tights, stockings, suspender belts, and girdles—items used in the management of my CVI.
I started with the blue dress—the one I suspected wouldn't fit. I was right. It was tight down to the waist and stuck to me like a second skin. Only the skirt was acceptable, with a moderate flare, but as a nightie? No way.
I took a few pictures and removed it with difficulty. It was a shame; I would have really liked to keep it, but there was no chance I could wear it to bed, let alone around the house. Not even in ‘girl mode’, as there was no room for a bra and padding.
[Ed: Good call on the 'no'—bedtime shouldn't require a shoehorn to get out of your clothes.]
I then moved on to the nighties.
Based on the colour and pattern, the one on the far right was my favourite. It was a 50% cotton and 50% modal mix and had a lovely feel to it.
Looking at it closely, I realised it had a very pretty neckline and hem, as well as lovely detailing around the sleeves.
I left the others nighties in their plastic bags; I wanted Mrs. A to be there when I unpacked the rest so I could get her initial feedback.
Later, I told her about the blue dress. When we looked at it together, she agreed that the label must be incorrect; it was in no way a size 52. As it was now sold out, there was no point in reordering.
So, we had our ‘deciding session’ to determine what I could keep and what had to go back. I knew the blue dress would not be alone when I took it to the post office; the question was, what else would accompany it?
From the start, one of the nighties was a prime candidate because it looked as though it had been washed multiple times—the pattern was nowhere near as bright as the others.
I tried it on, but Mrs A didn’t like it, and I had to agree; it simply wasn't colourful enough.
[Ed: I take it you never thought you’d hear yourself say ‘not colourful enough’ when choosing clothes?]
For male clothes, no. For female clothes? Absolutely.
The other three nighties were ‘waved through’ because the focus was on ‘nighties for me’. I still tried them on so she could see them ‘in action’.
Regarding the two remaining dresses, there was a slight objection: “As you now have three nighties, why do you need a dress as a nightie?”
I wanted to keep them primarily to wear as dresses, so I used the excuse that the material was slightly thicker than the nighties and better for colder weather. I realised this wasn't quite landing, so I compromised: I would keep the green one because it had pockets, and the red one could go back.
The Déjà Vu
[Ed: I thought we were finished?]
So did I. But as this is relevant, I thought I’d add it here.
[Ed: Fine—but don’t repeat yourself!]
You know very well I have to; it’s in the chapter title!
A couple of days ago, we were sitting in our armchairs with a second cuppa. Mrs. A was in her usual browsing mode, and I was proofreading this post, thinking it was finally finished.
She looked up and asked: “Are you happy with the blue joggers?”
Being half-distracted by my text, I answered: “Yes, they’re fine. Quite comfortable.”
As I’d been wearing them around the house almost constantly, I thought that was proof enough. I wondered why she was asking again.
She now had my full attention. I looked up: “Why do you ask?”
She smiled. “How about another pair in a different colour?”
I smiled back and promptly replied: “Alright—the sesame colour rather than the khaki.”
She gave me a broad grin as she realised that, even without looking, I knew exactly which colours were available.
“Right,” she said. “I was going to order another pair of joggers for myself, so I’ll order yours as well!”
The package arrived within two days. I opened it and removed my joggers; they fitted as expected and went straight into the wash. I noticed that she had ordered a pair in a different design. Later, Mrs A went upstairs to try hers on. She came down with a disappointed face.
“They are far too baggy in the crotch! They must have labelled them wrong!”
She fetched the tape measure, but the measurements were correct.
Frustrated, she said: “I must have shrunk!”
She looked at me, and I knew exactly what was coming.
“They should fit you. Do you want to try them on?”
I was game, though I thought with some amusement that I really had enough feminine joggers by now. It was more to please her than myself.
I said, with exaggerated reluctance: “Oh, alright then. Hand them over.”
I put them on and, while sitting down, looked at the fabric. They weren't as comfy as my embroidered pair, but the pattern was ok, but why not have another?
She asked again: “Do you want to keep them?” I nodded my approval.
She looked at me inquisitively. “Are you sure? The silver sparkly strip down both legs is quite feminine.”
I heard myself repeat it: “The what?!”
I stood up and went into ‘search mode’. There they were: a centimetre-wide sparkly strip running from the waist down each leg. It looked like a racing stripe. My first thought was that I certainly wasn't going to the gym wearing them! I was hesitant, but then I thought: The more the merrier. And it saved us a trip to the post office in the rain.
“Yes, they can stay,” I said, giving her a smile.
I removed them so they could join the others in the wash. Mrs. A was happy they didn't need to be returned. So, now there are two new acquisitions instead of one.
[Ed: Are you finished? Can we get this posted?
I need to get the washing machine going.]
Do that! Any further developments will follow in another post.
Thanks, dear reader, for getting this far.
The Postscript
[Ed: ??..]
Don't say anything, just get me my tea!
As I was finishing the above I acquired two more tops from Mrs. A. One tropical and the other full of stars. Technically, they should belong in a Hand-Me-Down post, but I’ve included them here while I had the chance—just before the surprise and joy of discovering another variant of the ‘Hand-Me’ family.
This time, it was a spontaneous giveaway rather than part of a major clear-out.
I expect a proper clear-out will occur in the not-too-distant future, simply because of the build-up of new clothes and the lack of storage space!
I am very interested to see what I might be offered next time without even needing to use my ‘magic mantra’.
A Hand-Me-Down Part Two post will follow, provided I acquire enough items to present here.
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