She’s Back – 3: Looking Forward

By Amanda J.

Last time, as I chronicled my efforts to figure out exactly how ‘Amanda’ fitted into my life, I talked about an interview which Nora had done for Transliving with a bigender lady called Linda Mills.  I mentioned how much of what she said resonated with me and how, ironically, the answer she had given to one of Nora’s questions proved prophetic.  In response to Nora’s question about what triggered her gender change, Linda replied:

“I could be triggered when seeing a woman whose appearance I admire and wish to emulate…”

And that’s exactly what happened to me.  Twice.

As a CDer, my fundamental driving force has always been to emulate a woman who, if things were different, I’d want to date.  It’s therefore no surprise that my stash has always included a pair of stiletto courts/pumps, a bodycon or similar dress, hosiery in a range of colours and a shoulder length wig.  And as my makeup skills started to approach acceptable levels, looking at my feminised form in the mirror evoked profound thoughts and feelings.  But there’s only a certain number of times that one can look in the mirror and be ecstatic at the sight of the woman smiling back before the urge to take her out of the closet becomes overwhelming.

Breaking free from the closet and stepping into the outside world is both exhilarating (‘I’m actually doing this’) and anticlimactic (‘that was easy, why did I leave it so long?’) but not without issue.  Firstly, there are the practicalities – heels that are fine when sitting down or taking a few paces to the mirror for a bit of self-admiration soon make their presence felt when worn for extended periods and with most women now opting for a casual look when out and about in the daytime, the more formal look favoured by CDers immediately looks conspicuous.  In fact, if there’s anything that identifies us as CDers in s crowd, it’s an inappropriate outfit choice for the surroundings.  But when we’re going to all of the trouble of transforming ourselves for an outing into the big wide world, do we really want to emulate the outfit choice of most women – jeans, T shirt/blouse, sports shoes and, in the cooler weather, a jacket of some form – when, to all intents and purposes, it’s not that different to what we wear in our normal male life?

Paradoxically, I’d already found the idea of toning down the ‘femme’ quite empowering.  In simplistic terms, it marked the evolution from ‘what do I want to wear’ to ‘what would a woman want to wear’ but, of course, finding the balance between an outfit that does not look out of place in a busy shopping centre and one that is still feminine enough to both satisfy feminine cravings and draw attention away from male characteristics is not easy.

At the beginning of the year, I was driving to visit my son in university and stopped off at the motorway services for a break.  As I walked to the shop, coming the other way was a woman wearing a black ‘biker’ jacket, red roll neck sweater, black skirt, black tights and knee high black boots with a heel.  In many respects, it was a nondescript outfit, not least because apart from the sweater, everything else was black but it struck me as being feminine without the wearer looking overdressed for the surroundings.  And moreover, over the next days and weeks, I felt a growing and persistent desire to emulate her.

I love my tailored bodycon dresses and court shoes but the reality is that I’m very unlikely ever to wear them for anything other than for closeted CDing.  I’ve tried wearing more formal clothes when out and about but as the contrast with others was so stark, I just felt exposed.  And that is why, when I went out in November last year, I wore an outfit with a similar ‘vibe’ to the woman I saw on the motorway.  In fact, I wrote a post about it shortly afterwards (One Last Try) during which I described the outfit as follows:

“…an off-white knitted dress with a roll neck and a pair of knee length boots with a moderate heel in size UK9 (a little bit on the large size but that guaranteed that they’d be a lot more comfortable than my other UK8 shoes)”

As I thought back to the outing in that outfit, I remembered how comfortable I felt and how much confidence it gave me; so much so that I engaged a couple of sales assistants in conversation, something that previously would have been unthinkable for me.

But whilst the desire to be out and about once more was building, there was still the problem of my home life and, in particular, the knowledge that my daughter (whose job allows her to work from home a couple of days a week) could return home early & unannounced and that put paid to any immediate plans to step out once more.

But then, as Linda predicted, fate struck again; once again a random woman who, this time, was standing in the car park as I returned to my car.  Her outfit consisted of a black roll neck sweater and a black midi skirt, both of which I possess.   And once again boots; they looked to be knee high although the skirt fell to low for me to know with certainty but the heels were unashamedly high.  Perhaps a little more formal than the previous one as she was obviously dressed for work but, again, it was an outfit that was appropriate for pretty well any setting and it was that which tipped the balance in favour of overlooking the risk of discovery and getting my femme on once more.

When I went out in November, I was very happy with the outfit but seeing the second woman led me to start thinking that the boots had not been exactly what I was looking for and, as far as the heels (which, you’ll note, I described as ‘moderate’) were concerned, I’d really wanted something higher.

Finding knee high boots with a high heel is easy.  Finding them in UK size 9 is not so easy as most of the ranges in the mainstream stores end at size 8 (and, for some unfathomable reason, Deichmann which was once my go-to store for female footwear, stops at size 7 for most of their ranges).  And finding them in a place that either does ‘click and collect’ or delivers to a locker is hard.  Even Amazon is challenging because many of the traders on Amazon do not use them for fulfilment and so the goods can’t be delivered to an Amazon locker.  In the past, I have had things delivered to our house, usually under an assumed name so that I can plead ignorance if needs be, but with my daughter here, it’s just too risky these days.

Fortunately, and despite everything, Amazon came up trumps and I was able to find the following:

“Women’s Knee-High Boots, Comfortable Chunky Block Heel Pointed Toe Pull On Side Zipper Suede Slouch Riding Boots”

Given the incomprehensibility of that description, it was a relief that several photos were included on the listing which showed a far more elegant boot than ‘chunky block heel….suede slouch riding boots’ suggested.  Although not stiletto, the heel looked reasonably slender, the boots were not made of suede but, rather, ‘pleather’, they were not ‘slouch’ (which generally means a boot that is baggy in the calf area) and looked a whole lot more feminine than any other riding boot I’d ever seen!  They were also reduced by 15% with the offer expiring just over one hour after I found them so I quickly placed an order with delivery to the local Amazon locker.

Sadly, there was a problem.  I ordered them late at night before the offer expired and, in my haste, I managed to order brown, not black and by the time I realised, they were back to full price.  Deciding that brown boots and my much-loved black coat would not look good, I arranged to return the brown ones and ordered black ones (without the 15% discount) in their place.  Unfortunately, they arrived on one of my daughter’s working from home days so, after picking them up from the locker and checking that they were indeed black, they were hidden in our garage.

The following day, my daughter confirmed that she would be going into her office all day so, after leaving sufficient time after she left to allow for contingencies (she has a habit of phoning when her train gets cancelled and using me as her personal ‘Uber’ to pick her up and drive her to a station on a different line so hearing the front door closing behind her doesn’t necessarily mean freedom for me), out came the stash and the transformation started.

There’s not much to report about the outing.  I drove there in flats, changing into the new boots when I’d parked the car, stopped at a café for a tea and pastry, interacting as usual with the lovely young ladies behind the counter before spending an hour or so just enjoying being myself as I browsed the clothes, shoes and makeup in the shops before heading back to my car for the drive home.  Uneventful, particularly compared to the exploits of the other contributors here but it confirmed that there is a place for my feminine side in my life.

So what does that mean for the future?  Needless to say, it’s complicated!

First of all, the situation at home combined with the introspection that I’ve undertaken means that ‘recreational’ CDing – just getting dressed for the sake of being dressed – is largely now a thing of the past.  Whilst it can (and usually does) feel good, I’ve come to realise that it’s ultimately unfulfilling; it takes a lot of work to bring the inner woman properly to life but then what?  Sure, it deals with the urges but invariably leaves me wanting more and, of course, stands in the way of all the things I enjoy doing in my male life – things for which full makeup, a dress and heels are a distinct disadvantage!   But I can’t deny that when I have put one high heeled foot and then the other over the threshold and into the outside world it has felt both amazing and completely natural and that’s a feeling I’d hate to never experience again.

Amazing though it feels, however, I’ve also come to realise that CDing can lead to a vicious cycle (although I’m sure that many would assert that the cycle is virtuous, not vicious).  Uncovering the inner woman leads to profound and potent emotions; simply put, the more one does it, the more one wants to do it.  We can declare that it’s harmless ‘fun’ but if, as in my case, it jeopardises both livelihood and marriage, it’s anything but harmless.  And in having a break in the cycle enforced on me by circumstances at home, I’ve come to realise that, with the cycle broken, I don’t actually need any of this nearly as much as I once thought that I did.

But in declaring that I often don’t need ‘Amanda’ in my life, equally I don’t want her out of my life.  It’s not only getting dressed & made up and then loving the person smiling back at me from the mirror but the aforementioned profound and potent emotions that I feel when I do set the inner woman free.  It’s the unanswerable questions – why does this feel so natural, why do I not feel an ounce of self-consciousness when mingling with others, why do I love doing certain things in my female persona that bore me rigid as a male, why do I think about ‘her’ several times a day every day, why…, why… and so on?

But in declaring that I don’t want her out of my life, I’m well aware that things are changing at home – it’s my daughter’s presence at the moment but Mrs A’s retirement looms in the not too distant future – and the more risks that are taken, the higher the probability of discovery.  I can say with almost total certainty that Mrs A would be appalled and very upset if she knew about my activities in the outside world, particularly as they involved leaving the house and returning dressed and some form of compromise will need to be worked through at some stage.  But what I have come to realise is that whilst the urges never completely go away, they do pass and sometimes, as with many things in life, circumstances dictate that there is no other option than to grit my teeth and weather the storm until things calm down once more.

As far as I’m concerned, though, I’m more in balance now than I’ve been for a long time as I’ve finally been able to find contentment in my life when the inner woman either doesn’t need to, or can’t, come out to play.  I could declare that I envy the acceptance & love that Kandi experiences at every turn through her interactions or the experiences of any of the other contributors here who have found ways to take this side of themselves a lot further than I have and there would be an element of truth in that declaration.  But as a loner at heart, occasional solo wanderings suit me just fine and I’m just happy that I’m finally able to be who I want to be, regardless of whether it’s the rather scruffy guy or, from time to time, his rather more nicely put together sister.