Everything is signed and the big checks are written. The apartment is mine, and I’ve eaten, and I’m feeling better about life in general. Although, I still hate my bank.

Yay for apartment! Curses on your bank.

---

I definitely feel less me in a dress/skirt than I do in pants (especially jeans).

Heh. I'm exactly the opposite.

---

I don't understand it either - but most articles on male cross dressing suggest that many cross dressers feel the way you describe - more comfortable in women's close, more right, more themselves. I suspect it is something to be felt rather than understood - that is further expaination would be an attempt to find something that would arouse comparable emotions rather than any type of analysis.

---

Fay, I was thinking the same thing pretty much, probably because of my reaction to this:

when he comes home from work, he changes into a dress or skirt and the highest fucking high heels I've ever seen. Generally a bra and fake boobs

...which was: "But DAYUM baby, at the end of a long, hard day, that shit's so uncomfortable. You should get pretty jammies and slippers, instead. My current favorites are light pink Betty Boop PJs."

---

I guess I have a hard time grokking it because in our society women have the freedom to dress in ways that men don't. I can wear a flirty dress and heels one day and jeans and t-shirt the next and no one thinks that's the slightest bit odd.

True, that. I mean, my ordinary work clothes are (usually) only "women's" clothes because I happened to buy them in that department. But a black t-shirt and jeans is...a black t-shirt and jeans. (I guess the jeans aren't gender-neutral, being cut to fit a person with hips and all, but me wearing men's jeans would not be considered crossdressing, it'd just be me wearing slightly less flattering jeans. Which is something I've always found remarkeably silly about our society, that unless we're talking drag, run-of-the-mill crossdressing only really goes one way. Me in pants = woman in pants. Man in skirt = crossdresser.)

I dye my hair blue to feel more like myself when I look in the mirror, and on weekends I'm all about the flouncy skirts and stompy boots.

---

But DAYUM baby, at the end of a long, hard day, that shit's so uncomfortable.

Heh, I had the same thought. At the end of a long day, I change into flannel pajama bottoms and a cotton tank top. If I change into heels of any height, it's because they're new and I need to break them in before wearing them outside.

---

I am irritated at myself for completely failing to get gender dysphoria. It just feels like something I might be able to start to grok.

But, no, nothing. I have the chick version of "white privilege." I can wear pants or skirts. I can dress in "drag" and no one will notice or comment. I mean, fuck, I play in boy spaces just about all the time, and even when I tussle and fuss at stereotypes, it's really nothing compared to having a need to be another gender, or seeking a comfort in clothing or hobbies that society would look askance at me for.

I can't begin to imagine what feeling like a man would be like. I don't know how one could pin that dissatisfaction down, and know "Aha! It's my lack of maleness that bothers me, and I can go some way to fixing that by taking hormones, removing my breasts, and living as a man." Yet, a family member did just that. I figure I'll let him get a little more used to it before I start being horribly pokey, though. He's got enough drama right now.

---

when he comes home from work, he changes into a dress or skirt and the highest fucking high heels I've ever seen. Generally a bra and fake boobs

...which was: "But DAYUM baby, at the end of a long, hard day, that shit's so uncomfortable. You should get pretty jammies and slippers, instead. My current favorites are light pink Betty Boop PJs."

The first thing I do when I get home is take OFF my bra and heels.

---

(And Fay, didn't you know that when we were thrift-store shopping in SF, I was buying slinky skirts and whatnot for The Boy?)

Well, no, because I wasn't there for the thrift shopping.

t / apologetic.

We pretty much split up on Valencia, and I was a (somewhat inebriated) part of the RunBackToSeeVids!Now!Now! group, rather than the thrifting group. Which is sad, because I did want to do thrifting, but I wanted vids more.

---

the first thing *he* does is put ON a bra and heels.

This reminds a bit of a lot of the girls (and actually a few of the guys) I've worked with. In archaeology, there is no glamour, at all. Everyone, male and female, wears the same grotty old jeans and t-shirts. In winter, you can't even tell whether someone is male or female because they're so covered up. And so a lot of the girls will go home and change into pretty fancy clothes, maybe even make-up, just to balance out the day. Maybe the boy is just doing the same thing - feeling a bit fancier after a day of beigeness (and he just happens to feel fancy in lady things).

---