Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Building Up My Stash Again

I went nuts and bought a bunch of girl stuff again. I felt like I really need some shoes, so that was at the top of my shopping list. I ended up buying two pairs: wedge sandals and pumps, both glittery, along with a pair of teddies, back-seam stockings, and two more one-piece swimsuits.

The swimsuits are to replace my previous swimsuit purchases. I've struggled to get the right size. Too many t
imes, I've ordered something far too small, and struggled to get into it. Last time, I ordered size L, but ended up disappointed in the looseness of the fit. Bikinis are much easier, because the main problem with one-piece suits is the torso length. With the larger sizes, the hips end up not being nearly tight enough. This time, I ordered medium. I received one of them already, and it fits pretty well. It's just a bit too short, torso-wise, but the hips fit much better. We'll see how the other one fits when it gets here in September.

The teddies are something I've been thinking about for many years. I had "borrowed" one from a girlfriend many, many years ago, and it was exquisite, but I had almost no access to it. I think I wore it maybe once or twice. I ordered two, again because of concerns about the size: one S, one M. The S fits nicely, so I haven't bothered with the M, and will probably just return it.

As for the shoes, ever since my wife found my stash, discovered my secret, and forced me to purge, I've really missed wearing heels. Something about wearing women's high heels puts my fantasies over the edge. Usually, the focus is on my erogenous zones, but in this case, they're so unnecessary and so gratuitously feminine that somehow they become the best part. I especially like shoes with ankle straps, because they feed a sort of forced feminization fantasy. I've never had access to pumps that fit me. These new ones, when they arrive, will be a new experience. The wedges sprinkle glitter all over the place, so I have to be very careful with them.

The shoes also take up a lot of space, and I'm not sure where to hide them. I'll have to think about it before the pumps arrive, because my current hiding space is just about full.


Saturday, February 18, 2017

Fresh as a...

...Daisy.

That's my name, as of a couple days ago.

For thirty years, I've thought of myself as a guy who likes wearing women's clothes. Having a feminine name never felt useful or necessary. I thought about it from time to time, but no particular name ever felt right. As much as I fantasized about becoming a woman, having a proper girl name was somehow inconceivable. I called myself Swim Tran online, to describe my interests, but without any pretense of being feminine.

Ever since my wife discovered my secret, I've had to curb my cross-dressing habit. Even before then, I had started realizing that the thrill has become more about becoming a woman than merely wearing women's clothes. While bikinis and lingerie and heels certainly help me feel more feminine, they're more an accessory to the fantasy than the goal of it.

With my fantasy time greatly reduced, but with the worst of my secret now out, I have felt much more free to embrace my feminine tendencies. I'm not hiding my interests like I used to. I'm posting on cross-dressing forums, while I used to avoid them for fear of discovery. This has brought on a level of introspection that I've somehow missed all these years.

All the other sissies online have girl names. Why don't I? Up until a few weeks ago, I was happy being a guy in a bikini, and nothing more. Or so I thought. I was convinced that because I hadn't found a feminine name for myself, it simply wasn't that important to me. I reflected on names I had considered before, and again found them somehow a poor fit.

Angelique. Bethany. Isabelle. Lovely names, each, but not for me.

Rebecca. Robyn. Bobbie. All based on my own name, but not for me.

Bronwyn? Siobhan? Isolde? I'm not Irish. Cute, exotic, but not for me.

Nora. Anna. Emma. Ella. Bella. Fiona. Tina. Not for me. Nothing for me.

Some ridiculous names that are hideously unfashionable: Bertha. Matilda. Mildred. Not for me.

I kept going back to my own heritage, and my strategy for naming my own children. I like having an element of French, but having it work in English as well. What would my mom have named me had I been a girl? She told me once: Melissa, I think. What does it say about it that I don't even remember for sure? Not for me.

Girls from my school days: Chantal (ugh, never liked that one.) Karine. Constance. Kimberly. Natalie. Not for me.

Girls I had crushes on our dated: Jean-Marie. Vanessa. Kim. Brigitte. Nikki. Not for me.

Some classic names: Catherine, Katie, Kitty, Cathy. Elizabeth, Beth, Lizzie. Victoria. Hmmm, I pondered that one for a while. Valerie. I considered that for months. But in the end, not for me.

Nothing stuck. It just felt like I was picking at random. Even though I like a lot of these names, I just can't attach them to myself. They're somehow not meaningful enough. Which is weird because I didn't choose my given name, and it has no special meaning to my parents, so why should I expect anything different from my girl name?

On the drive to work the other day, I thought of Marguerite. It's good: French, works in English as Margaret, kind of, but even better is the translated English version oh my god DAISY!

Instantly, somehow, my mind opened up like a blooming flower. I AM DAISY! I always have been! Suddenly, I could discern my taste in feminine clothes as having a coherence to it that could only come from a girl named Daisy. It evokes everything that my feminine soul aspires to. It's simple and pretty. It's unequivocally feminine. It's somewhat uncommon, yet completely unpretentious. It's sexy, in a girl-next-door kind of way, and sweet, and charming.

Daisy!

I'm updating my online presence now with my newly discovered name. It's liberating! I'm not just a guy who wears women's swimsuits anymore. I'm a woman called Daisy, and I like certain styles of clothes, certain styles of art, music...

It's like my feminine self has finally broken free from the prison I've kept her in all my life. She has always been part of me. At last, I acknowledge her, by name: her name is Daisy.

MY name is DAISY!