#theevolutionof

@theevolutionofledarose

Leda’s story is one filled with adventure and mystery. A wonderful writer and talent, chapters are easy to read because of how the world is opened up in them. More amazing characters, and the relationship dynamics explored are always fun to read about.

* these definitions have been taken from a number of simple Google searches.

Is this important? Does a label matter? Is it something that should cause worry?

cross-dress verb wear clothing typical of the opposite sex.

I do this... I enjoy playing this game... I feel comfortable playing around and being somebody different. So. Duh! It’s me.

transvestite noun a person, usually a male, who adopts the dress and often the behavior typical of the opposite sex, especially for purposes of emotional or sexual gratification.

“adopts the behaviour”... interesting. Because I feel that when I cross-dress I am in some ways forced to adopt a behaviour. e.g. Heels make you walk differently; that’s either a stomping around (because you can’t walk in them), or a graceful stride (because you can walk in them). So if you walk properly in heels, you adopt the behaviour of walking like a beautiful woman.

But does that make you a transvestite? Or just a good cross-dresser?

Equally, if you wear make-up, that is adopting a behaviour that some (not all) women like to display. So if a cross-dresser doesn’t wear make-up, they will most probably look like a male in woman’s clothing; and I don’t think that is a behaviour most females go for.

Oh... and I do not do this for sexual gratification.

transgender adjective denoting or relating to a person whose self-identity does not conform unambiguously to conventional notions of male or female gender.

This is not me. I am male. When I dress I autonomously adopt the behaviours of a female, but I think I am unambiguously male. Although it would be nice to be able to “pass” or make somebody look twice.

unambiguous adjective not open to more than one interpretation.

Just to confirm. I am male.

transsexual noun a person who emotionally and psychologically feels that they belong to the opposite sex.

I do not feel like I am female. I have long gone past ever thinking I could think that I could be female and I am realistic that I take part in this to play dress-up.

drag queen noun (informal) a man who ostentatiously dresses up in women's clothes.

Aren’t we all a little ostentatious? I mean, if adopting some behaviours, isn’t putting on bright red lipstick or creating bold looking eyes designed to impress?

ostentatious adjective characterised by pretentious or showy display; designed to impress.

It’s fun, right?

androgynous adjective partly male and partly female in appearance; of indeterminate sex.

Just to make this clear. When I am ‘normal’, I look male. It’ll take a lot of work to look female. There won’t be a middle ground, unless I leave my wig off, or become one of those beardy transvestites/cross-dressers.

I think do not think labels are important. I aim to be an unambiguous, ostentatious male who dresses in clothing designed for the opposite sex, and adopt some behaviours typical of a female. And I would find it amusing to make somebody question whether or not I am male, if just for one second.

Peter Pan made me do it.

It’s Peter’s fault.

I must have been 13 or 14 years old when I found a fancy dress outfit belonging to one of my siblings. A green tunic, a green pointed hat and some light green tights. I have no idea what compelled me to do it, but when I pulled on the tights I felt a buzz; it was like scoring a goal for my football team, or notching up a new fastest speed on my bike. It felt adventurous and exciting.

Those thin stretches of elasticated green material were my secret. I buried them away within a bag of sports kit, and when I felt like it I would squirrel them out of the bag and stretch them over my lightly fuzzy teenage legs and hide in my bedroom.

When I found a knee length beige coloured skirt, that I think belonged to my sister, I hid this with the tights; and then somehow I found myself in possession of a black, silky, long sleeved top. My outfit was eclectic, but it was intoxicating. Hiding under my covers, dressed like I had been thrown in to a charity clothes bin, but feeling like I had found a new way.

There were a few times when I was alone at home, and these fleeting moments were spent either playing video games, or sneaking in to my sisters room and seeing what I could wear. 

She always has been much smaller than me, so there was either very little choice, or I spent a lot of time stretching her clothes to not fit her. She never mentioned anything.

A black and purple lace dress was my favourite option, and I remember sliding this over my slight frame many times; squeezing tighter in to the delicate garment as I grew older and bigger. (I matched this with the black top, and I upgraded to a pair of black tights that one day happened to get mixed in with my clean washing).

I struggled with shoes though. She definitely did not have any my size, and as I did not live with my mum I couldn’t borrow hers... not that they would have fit me either.

On my most daring of days I went in to my sisters’ make up bag and took out a candy pink lipstick, posing in the bathroom mirror as I tried to apply the colour neatly to my lips. In reality I must have looked incredibly foolish, but I was only acting on what made me feel good.

But then, all of a sudden, I stopped. I was taking more interest in girls, and learnt to drive. School ended, and then came the beers, pubs, clubs, work.

I could not fit in to the clothes that had given me that adrenalin hit, and I certainly could not afford my own right then; and anyhow, where would I buy them from?

Although the desire was still there.

As the rain tumbles down (it’s June FFS), I’m going to take some time to think about why I am doing this.

Maybe I should also consider WHAT AM I DOING? HOW? WHERE? WHEN? and once again, for good measure WHY?

My blog, Thrills and Heels: The evolution of..., is an account of my entire journey as a crossdresser. Some of the stories that I will write have never fallen from my lips, nor have they been detailed on any website, book or napkin, and the reason I wish to share them now is because I am starting this journey afresh, and I hope they will add some context.

I am keeping all the memories and very limited experiences that I have and I am using the thoughts and feelings that I have associated with them to develop and expand my crossdressing life.

Let’s face it, I spend money on clothes, shoes, etc etc, I’m even giving her a name. She has funds and time, she will have a personality; she has a life.

That’s the WHY? cleared up like I’ve used a comb to clean up jelly. I might come back to it later.

WHAT AM I DOING? The plan is to research how I can go about taking my casual crossdressing life to a higher level.

And right now I’m not talking full-on, drag act, making weekly trips to bars and clubs, screaming “I neeeeeeeed to be 100% convincing”, but to actually find my vibe (titter, chortle... *vibe*). To know who I want to be, who I would like to look like, how I can look like her, what it feels like to be her, and become her and what it’s like to show her off to the world.

That to me seems like a lot. It’s daunting. It’s a new beginning, a big challenge, financially and socially difficult, and it will be blooming tough, but knowing how good I have felt when I have taken teeny-tiny steps, taking a full stride with a hip/bum wiggle in 4 inch stilettos will feel like the greatest of drugs. (I do not advocate drug use!)

When? I aim to update the blog each week, at least once a week, and I’ll hopefully set myself a target date to take my creation out for about a year’s time.

Where? At home, you fool... except when I finally take her out; that’ll probably be to Pink Punters. Fool.

How? I don't intend on sharing my secrets. Oh. Wait. Yes, in fact, I do. You’ll see how as my blog grows.