Saturday, December 09, 1995

Diary: Taking the Plunge

It is important to date this section, because something of grave importance has happened in the past few days.  Finally, I have taken a huge plunge, and done something outrageously bold.  In fact, I have done two outrageously bold things, quite suddenly.  I can't even remember what set me off in the first place.  I just suddenly felt like I needed to womanize a bit more.

I suppose it comes from the culmination of several factors all at once.  Firstly, I have severed my friendship with S__.  My long, hopeless crush on her, which had dragged on for more than a year, finally ended about a week and a half ago.  Since then, I have felt contemptuous about any relationship with any woman.  I have come to feel so bitter about women that I can't fantasize about them without getting too angry at S__ to continue.  Also, the winter has come.  That means more clothes, and a pretext for covering my body at all times.  And finally, the semester has ended, and I have more free time.  But you still don't know what I've done, do you?

It's quite insane, actually.  I have gone quite overboard, this time.  I suppose on Thursday, after all my tests and stuff had ended, I needed a release of tension.  Since I couldn't fantasize and moap about S__, or any other woman, I concentrated on my inner woman.  I frolicked joyfully in my stolen panties, and felt only temporarily satisfied.  I resolved, rather impulsively, to go one step futher the next time, since it will be easy to get away with.  My plan came upon a glitch on Friday, when i learned that Dad was staying home.  But I waited for him to leave, and I shaved my left leg.

It was a long, arduous process.  I was hesitant at first, but finally, I decided to say, Fuck It, and did as much as I could.  I was so beautifully awkward: I started with my electric razor, over the sink.  That got messy and contorting, so I got an extension cord, and shaved in the bathtub.  I sweated like a pig for about forty minutes, and didn't get to finish the job.  But most of it is gone, cleanly enough.  When I rub downwards, it's baby smooth.  It feels so different.  Then it occurred to me to use the safety razor.  That helped a lot.  It finished the job, pretty much, on my left leg.  I immediately tried on my crude stockings, and discovered that they stick more to a feminine, smooth leg like my left one had become, than to a hairy leg like my right one.  I was determined to shave it, too, but I had just run out of time.  I had lots of fun with that contraption, and very quickly.  I felt so fulfilled, but ready to go at it yet again.  But I had no time, and little privacy, so I desisted, after making a bit of a mess on my comforter in my spontaneous, uncontrollable glee.

I think I had decided at some point while I shaved that the true test of this would be some lingerie, particularly some fishnet stockings.  I had never worn any, I don't think.  And I wanted to get some thigh-highs to really enjoy the moment.  And it wouldn't be worth it, I reasoned, without a nice silky teddy.  So I swore that I would finally take the plunge and buy some.  I thought that I would go to the place near [the rehearsal studio], after work.  I only had to avoid R__, and other people, and I would get away with it, I thought.

But I had forgotten in my enthusiasm that I got off work at only 16:15 at the earliest.  I feared that the place would close before I got there.  But I was determined.  I had to do it.  It was ill-conceived in my head, as all good impulsive plans should be.  I would pretend to buy something for my girlfriend.  If anyone asked, it would be S__.  I didn't know what else to think.  I had to get size Small, too, so that the fit would be nice and tight.  So all day I thought about it, about how I would come home, take a shower right away, and rather than cleaning myself, I would shave my right leg.

By the time my shift ended, it was 16:30.  I was running late.  I wheeled out of there in the snow, a bit nervous.  The traffic was awful.  I could hardly believe what I was doing.  I had to remind myself before I left that I had a plan.  So I drove over to R__'s.  I had trouble finding the place at first, but now I know where it is.  Unfortunately, it was closed.  But I had to have something by the end of the day, otherwise, it would simply not be worth my having shaven my leg.  So I found a phone booth, looked up "LINGERIE" in the Yellow Pages, but discovered that all those listed were out of the way.  The closest was in [big fancy] Mall, which I decided against, because it would be too expensive, and far too crowded.  I didn't want to lose my cool.  So I decided to go to [cut-rate somewhat cheesy lingerie shop].  I had passed by there many times on the bus.

So there I went, unsure what my follow up plan would be.  I got there, and discovered to my delight that it was open.  But I was nervous as Hell.  I sat there still for a moment, in the car, breathing in deep to decide whether or not I wanted to go through with it or not, after all.  I got out of the car, and strode confidently, but humbly, to the store.  In I went.

I went straight to the counter, and told the clerk that I was looking for something for my girlfriend for Christmas.  With my confidence, and with it being a pretty normal situation, she totally bought it.  She showed me a bustier, and told me where to look.  I browsed around for a while.  The selection was rather small, for what I wanted.  I only found one nice white teddy.  The bustiers all came with matching see-thru G-strings, which I did not want.  I had found a slightly tacky store, which I was afraid of.  But what choice did I have?  After a bit of head scratching, I picked out a satiny teddy with a lacy pattern, but without garters, and asked the clerk if there were anything of the kind with garters attached.  No, she answered, but it would look good with a garter belt.  She showed me two kinds, and I took a lacy one rather than a satiny one.  It looked very pretty.  Then I asked for fishnet stockings.  The whole thing cost me $75.88.  I had planned on spending no more than $60.00.  So I shelled out the cash, and made off with the lingerie.  When I got to the car, I took it out of the box, and stuffed it into my gym-bag's side pocket.  I planned to ditch the box, but I managed to conceal it, instead.  I can use it for Christmas gifts.  So I felt very strange, having lingerie in my gym-bag, and went to buy a winter coat [at another store, obviously], and went home.

I finally got into the shower, and shaved as much as I could, which wasn't very much, maybe half, of my right leg.  I learned the magic of lather.  Then, when I had cleaned up, I proceeded to get all dressed up.  I felt really cool bringing only that as underwear into the bathroom.  I felt subduedly feminine.  Then I put on the garter belt and the teddy, adjusted the teddy, stepped into the stockings, snapped them on, and put my clothes on over it all.  So as I type this, I'm wearing a woman's lingerie outfit.  Unfortunately, it's not all I hoped.  The teddy is wedgieing me viciously (I'll have to readjust) and isn't tight-fitting enough.  The fishnets aren't soft, but they are weird feeling.  I will certainly like them.  I love the garter belt like I would love a bra: it's very pretty, and very feminine; but it doesn't touch any errogenous zone.  But I will learn to enjoy this.  The teddy's material is very soft, and I will enjoy having my horrible male organ in there, struggling to be free as I rub some girlishness into it.  And that very idea turns me on so goddamned much.  My Goddess, I'm wearing lingerie, and it's all mine!  And it's white, and silky, and lacy. . . And I can use the garter belt with my panties. . . And I love the whole thing!  I love effeminating myself.  My legs are shaven underneath the fishnets.  This is probably going to be a very rare event indeed.  I just hope the leg hair grows back before [my ski trip in early January].  Or so I say.  I hope the rest of my leg hair falls out, along with all of my excessive body hair, and I grow tits, hips, get a waist, have my voice go up a few octaves, all while I rub away my penis and turn it into a cunt, slowly, pleasurably, and agonizingly, horribly, exquisitely adore every minute of it!  Ah, the deconstruction of masculinity is so incredibly fun.  I should be so afraid of becoming female, and I am, and that's why I'm doing this.  I want to become female, because I know that society wants me to be afraid of it, wants me to disdain femininity in myself; but I also know that when I wear girls' clothes, I admit defeat.  I admit that I am not worth being male.  I fall to my knees in shame, not only because I am effeminated, but because I LOVE the fact that I'm effeminating.  That's the key: it's bad enough to wear lingerie when you know that it's the most unpardonably feminine thing to do; it's passing the point of no return (or so you hope/fear) to actually enjoy it.  What if I do turn into a girl?  Wouldn't that be frightening?  Wouldn't that be most wonderful?  Ah, I can't take it anymore!  I must go and accept my femininity.  Goddessdamnit, I've even shaven my legs!


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