It has been quite some time, dear friends, since I have managed to go a couple of weeks without feeling driven to post something up here. This exact time last year in fact, and here now with much the same motivators (or de-motivators as the case may be) behind the relative quiet. Yes, the predicted Drabbatical Season is in full bloom.
It is not all about the seasonal loss of passion for the engaging and pretty life of the Cross Dresser though. Mrs. Bellejambes and I enjoyed a rush of houseguests earlier in the month and so I needed to empty a guest room of dresses, wigs, shoes and other such accoutrements of beautification to make room.
I then travelled north to visit family and friends in my home town last week, a drab suitcase in hand, feeling no particular urge to look any different than the old neighborhood expects me to look. Lots of great feminine style to generally gawk at and take note of about in the big city, and a lovely early spring crispness in the air. Really, a terrific trip, but a fully guy-mode time.
Throughout my little holiday time, the days were fun, full and active, leaving me not too much idle time. Typically, when the days are cooler and darker, the Petra parts of me demand much of my idle time attention. This is a force of nature that I yield to, when the force is applied. This part of me however is now quite dormant.
I did have the moment when I needed to withhold tendering a fashion tip simply because it would have been to difficult to answer the “how do you know that?’ question. A dear and beautiful friend had a treatment done on a varicose vein and was under Doctors orders to wear compression hosiery in the aftermath of the procedure.
She was lamenting to the large dinner party the difficulty of pulling her expensive new tights up and over, and was fearful of gutting them with her nails. Poor lamb, I thought to myself, she really just needs a good pair of rubber gloves and she’ll be fine. I kept this little gem quiet though, not wanting a complication at exactly that moment.
I do think that I will, at some point, selectively, stop caring about the complications and questions. I think that, at some point, I will start opening up in my answers, and just generally care less about who knows what about Life, the Universe and Petra too. I have been breathlessly following Staci Lana’s recent adventures in tactical self-outing over at Femulate, and can see through her remarkable example, that this is possible. Ultimately, this sort of honesty and openness is required too, contributing as it does to a gradual diminishment of stigma, ignorance, fear and misunderstanding that so many labor under in matters of gender expression.
But this is not for me, not yet, no ma’am.
I am back home in Atlanta as of late last night, and here in the sweltering south, its nothing but bare arms and legs for the ladies for the foreseeable future. I will be keeping my arms and legs and the rest of me out of that pageant entirely for a few months. I know that I will be ready for a nice night out come September, and look forward to opening up the fall season at the Southern Comfort Conference. Today’s snapshot comes courtesy of charming and lovely friend Lida (thanks Lida!), and was taken at an SCC planning session social earlier this year.
Many smart and dedicated people are putting together a great program to celebrate the 20th anniversary of this essential TG conference. Please visit the site, and put some thought to joining in on the fun.
The summer editorial schedule here at Voyages en Rose is pretty loose friends. If I have something for you, well, you will see it here. Enjoy your summer, however you are dressing for it, and keep cool.