Would You Like to Know a Secret?

It's Christmas time! Since it's the holiday season, I've given myself the gift of spending more time as Molly over the week between Christmas and New Year. I also bought myself some new shoes, but that's a different story. In spending extra time as Molly, I've also been thinking that there are a lot of girls out there who don't have the luxury of going en femme this week, and that kind of breaks my heart. It also makes me think about a bunch of other things. So, at the risk of sounding like a braggy, boastful little bitch, I'd like to talk about something that's been on my mind lately. Namely, acceptance, being out, and fear.

Vagina Envy

So, as my tens of readers have noticed, there hasn't been any significant Molly blogging in a couple of weeks. I've been bogged down with work and holidays and a bunch of other emotional bullshit that leaves precious little time for Our Girl. Hell, I haven't even dressed in two weeks and my manscaping is a fucking shambles, I look like a shag carpet with mange. Aside from that, I've had a distinct lack of drive to actually dress, and the reason for it is something I haven't run into before. Sure I've had dry spells in the few years I've been dressing, but this feels different and is tied to something else. Tied deeply to my needs and reasons for dressing.

Molly and The Kid

So, my daughter has a daddy who has two modes. There's regular daddy who wears a hat and is ruggedly handsome, and there's pretty daddy who wears a wig and is, well, pretty. Regular daddy is the daddy default setting, and the one that she sees most of the time. Pretty daddy is like a bonus mode, an alternate costume code that you can input and have daddy with pretty hair and cute shoes and makeup. A temporary upgrade if you will. While mostly fun, this has created a kind of strange dynamic in our house. Not for The Kid, who at eight months old doesn't really know there's a difference between daddy and pretty daddy, but for me. I'm starting to get concerned about dressing and if/how all this pretty is going to affect her.

June Cleaver's Got Nothing on Me

So yesterday, as is my wont on a Monday, I went to my shrink appointment as Molly. On my way out of the house, my wife hands me a grocery list and says, "Pick this up on the way home, please." I look down at my outfit, nothing too crazy, jeans and a sweater but I am in heels and full makeup, then back at her and raise an eyebrow. "You'll be fine." she says, and off I go to my appointment. Grocery shopping as Molly after a therapy session? Good idea or best idea?

The Clothes Make the Crossdresser

So, I'm a member over at Crossdressers.com, which is, on the whole, a pretty decent community. One thing I've noticed over there is a propensity for members to refer to their guy clothes as drab. As in, "I had to dress in drab today." Typically, this term is used in a pejorative fashion that, when I hear it, never fails to bring me down. It seems like a lot of members over at the Crossdressers.com forums are ashamed of or almost angry at the fact that they were born men. And that, well, that just makes me sad.

Halloween

I don't even have the energy for a smart-ass or clever title to this post. The Wife and I are gearing up for Halloween. I'm going full on as a woman character, and I'll be all CD-ed up from wig to heels. I'm more anxious and jittery about going out tonight to the few parties we have than I was the first time I stepped out into public as Molly. I can't say why. I don't know what I think will happen. I just think I want everything to go just right so much that I'm on pins and needles. Of course, I don't know what will constitute just right until after we get home and I see whether it happens or not. I guess I'll let you all know.

Would You Could You Here or There?

Would you could you anywhere? Good question. I'm talking, of course, about going out en femme. For the past few weeks I've spent at least one day a week flouncing around the greater Metro Area as Molly. Good idea? Hard to say. Monday night, after I had my most public outing, I was hanging out talking to my wife about it and she was voicing her concern that I be careful. Not careful that I not get recognized, but careful that I not get the shit kicked out of me. She said she was happy that I was having such positive experiences, but that she wanted me to be careful. I can dig that. I want me to be careful. What does that mean though? For me at least, it means being subtle, being smart, and choosing my battles.

Rock Out with my Smock Out

So, I've been dressing for about four years now. At first it was just underdressing, rocking panties and camis and stockings under my typical hard-wearing guy clothes. This proceeded for a couple of years, with me building a pretty respectable collection of delicate underthings, then my daughter came along and bam!...my first major purge. After the kid came along, I didn't dress for a few months, and didn't tell my wife or my shrink, both of whom knew about Molly, that I'd taken all my stuff to the Salvation Army. When I told them, their reactions were pretty much the same: "Well, that's silly. What'd you do that for?" So I started again, and it wasn't long before I'd gone completely down the rabbit hole...

Intro with Heels

Hi there. My name is Molly, and I'm a crossdresser. Well, of course that's not my real name, but it's what you can call me. Why Molly you ask? Well, I'm a huge nerd, a professional nerd if you will, and Molly is the name of one of my very favorite characters in science fiction literature, Molly Millions.

So what's all this about then, this self-indulgent little bit of bloggy navel gazing? Well, I'm pretty new to crossdressing, although not a total noob, and I guess I just needed someone to talk to, sooooooo... I guess you're it Internet! It's here that I'll share my thoughts, feelings, and anxieties about crossdressing, shopping, being out and about en femme, and how dressing affects my relationship with my wife, my daughter, and my friends. Stay tuned, this should be interesting.