It has been a while since Vanessa emerged. Busy with work, busy with life, busy with being busy. I guess this is why I haven’t had the time to become Vanessa for a few weeks. I find it strange, the longing to wear woman’s clothing, to take on female mannerisms, to become Vanessa. When I am not Vanessa, this longing feels almost sexual. At times it is as though I can feel the male part of me becoming aroused by the transgendered woman I am to be.
Just as suddenly it is gone. As I go through the habits familiar to all woman, showering and moisturizing, perfume and makeup, this feeling of tension washes away. When I go to the closet to choose my clothes (an unfortunately small selection thanks to my most recent purge demon) it’s almost gone. Once I’ve weighed the lacy blouse against the chiffon top even the memory of this feeling has evaporated. Replaced by a feeling of wholeness that is difficult to describe.
It is as the moment of finding a lost possession, stretched over hours rather than an instant. It is as if you meet yourself, and invite her over to dinner. It is like holding the hand of a dear loved one you’ve known so long, only that loved one is a part of you.
When I sat down to write today’s article I wasn’t intending to share this experience. Truth be told I wasn’t intending to have it either. Even though intellectually I know the relief and feeling of whole that overcomes me when I cross dress, I thought that sharing my thoughts in this weblog could substitute for living who I am.
I’ve just put on my jewelry, a beautiful necklace my wife bought me one Christmas and a pair of diamond earrings. For a time, I am who I am again.
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