ThisGirlSucks
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This Is Me free porn video
INTRODUCTION
When we were first married, before our humiliating games were on our
horizon, my wife could see how conflicted I was. She knew I was a cross-
dresser, knew how much I loved wearing women's clothing, something I had
done since I was a child.......Yet she also saw me living with the guilt,
a shameful secret I had very rarely shared; a whole host of negative
emotions that led to purging clothes, hating myself, struggling to find
who I was.
One day, after I got frustrated about a particular item of underwear and
how ridiculous I must look, she suggested I try something. I thought it
was ridiculous, but came to understand that it was something deeply
personal, feminine, and something most women do many times through their
lives. After a lot of contemplation and fear, I decided to try and didn't
realise how much this day would help me embrace the idea of being a
cross-dresser.
When I returned home from that day, many years ago, I wrote about my
experience. It's a little different from my previous stories, but I hope
you don't mind me sharing this true account of what happened and what it
meant to me.
THIS IS ME
After days thinking about it, after hours and hours wondering who I
should contact, after an aborted call or two because I sensed the woman
on the other end of the phone wasn't empathic to my needs, I called Marks
& Spencers at Cheshire Oaks retail outlet and asked for their lingerie
department. A woman named Hazel answered and I explained that I was a
private cross-dresser and I wondered if I could arrange a bra fitting.
"Sure. But we do insist on men presenting in female clothing so we know
they are serious. It also helps to avoid embarrassment for our other
customers, and it will help the fitter, too."
"I understand. But I've never worn a skirt or dress outside. Can I wear
trousers and a blouse?"
"If that is where you are at, because you have called ahead, that will be
okay. Can you visit today?"
"Yes," I said, nervously.
"Okay. I need to make an appointment so the fitter will know to expect
you."
"What happens? Is it discreet?"
"Of course," Hazel said patiently. "If you make the fitting, Ruth, who
will be with you, has been with us for years and is very professional.
It's not about who gets the shortest straw. We want to help you."
I started to breathe easier. "Can I please make an appointment?"
We arranged a time and Hazel asked for my preferred female name.
"Kirsten," I quickly made up.
"You're all set, Kirsten. Be sure to wear a current bra because this will
give Ruth an idea what you're used to wearing. We'll see you at ten-
thirty."
I had about an hour. I quickly changed into my bra, panties, suspenders
and stockings. I didn't have time to enjoy dressing. I put on a blouse
and trousers. I applied a little make-up. I grabbed my sneakers, figuring
I would put them on for walking around the store, my handbag and slipped
my 4 inch heels on.
The drive was filled with apprehension and fear. I almost turned back a
thousand times. Every single junction offered me an escape, but I kept
pushing forward.
I reached the store's big parking lot just in time and deliberately
parked away from the main entrance. I didn't want the long walk to
improve chances of being seen; I needed it to give me chance to build my
nerve.
Getting out of the car I let instinct lead me. I freshened my lipstick,
slipped my handbag over my shoulder and didn't even consider my sneakers.
I walked across the car park in my high heels, enjoying the sound each
small step made. I stepped away from the wall, out of the shadows. There
was the occasional glance, but nobody really gave me a second look. I
could raise my head, but was afraid to make eye contact.
It sounds silly, but could it have been brave? I'm not a soldier helping
keep us safe, a fireman daring to enter when others flee. I'm a cross-
dresser, but how many other men could do such a thing if challenged? How
many would laugh it off and dodge it? How many could lift their heads and
not look at the ground and walk confidently. How many could put
themselves out there for something they truly believed in, even though it
would mean certain ridicule and mockery?
I entered the store and tried to casually browse. I didn't want to race
directly to the lingerie department. I was here. I wanted to enjoy the
day. At a small laugh and a snigger I realised I had taken to hiding
inbetween the aisles of clothing.
I nervously stepped onto the marked walkway and realised for the first
time in my life I was taking control. No longer hiding.
I followed the signs to the lingerie department. At the tills a woman
asked if I was in for a bra fitting. I nodded meekly and she asked me to
follow her. She had a colleague watch the tills and led me to a fitting
room.
"My name's Ruth," she said offering her hand. "It's nice to meet you,
Kirsten."
I got the impression she genuinely wanted to help and relaxed in her
presence. Throughout the fitting we had a good chemistry, laughed and
joked. She picked up on my goofball sense of humor and followed suit. She
was exceptionally kind in circumstances others might have found unusual,
difficult, or even weird.
She asked me to remove my blouse.
I hesitated.
"Look, Honey. You've done the hard part coming in here. Especially how
you did, with your shoes and bag. So let me measure you and then you can
try on some different styles of underwear."
"Try on?"
She smiled patiently. "Your size will probably differ slightly depending
on make and style. We'll check your size, find a bra that is comfortable
for you. But more importantly, something you like. Not one that you just
grab off the rack and hope for the best."
I slowly removed my blouse. Except for my wife and an old university
girlfriend, no woman had seen me like this.
"Don't by shy," Ruth told me.
She apologised for her cold hands and we chatted while she measured my
chest. She explained everything she was doing, and told me that even
though the tape felt tight, the bra had to be so to keep it in place.
"You've only got these little, natural boobs, so if it wasn't tight the
bra would keep riding up."
She asked when I would be dressed as a woman, and I told her I didn't
plan on going out anytime soon.
"Why not?" she asked.
I didn't really have an answer. Only excuses. "I want to," I said
quietly.
Sensing I was getting jittery she asked me to relax and give her a few
minutes to find something.
I waited and she returned with several bras.
We tried the first. She adjusted the straps and positioned the banding
correctly.
"There's a fault on the strap. But if you like this one I'll find
another."
I told her I did. I admired it in the mirror for a few seconds longer and
then removed it, easily unhooking the clasps behind my back. I realised I
was showing off, wanted to impress her.
"Done that before?" she grinned.
She said it would be a few more minutes yet and asked if I wanted to take
my shoes off. I told her I was fine and that it was scary how comfortable
some things are.
She smiled sweetly.
"We have to deal with a lot of rotten stuff. But when it comes to clothes
and shoes we definitely get the better deal."
We tried a second bra. After her adjustments I explained I preferred the
first, and considering the designs of the others it would probably stay
that way.
"This is great. Your developing your taste while we are doing this. Don't
get dressed. I want to try one more thing now I can see where we are
going a little better."
She vanished from the room and I sat and waited, legs crossed.
"Coming in," she called a few minutes later.
As she entered I quickly uncrossed my legs. I must have blushed.
She waved her hand. "I thought you were passed that. Look, it's nice to
cross your legs sometimes. But you can also cross them at your ankle."
I did as she suggested.
"See. Still demure and comfortable. You can also just keep your knees
together."
I did as she said.
"Come on. Stand up. Now I know you'll have an opinion I've got a couple
more plunge bras, but I really wanted to try a balconette on you."
She revealed it from the others. White with black lace, and additional
black stripes creating a panel effect. It was really quite gorgeous and I
knew it was the one.
"Like it?"
"That obvious?"
She grinned. "Let's see how it looks."
I tried it on. She adjusted the straps. It felt tight, but I remembered
what she had said earlier. She talked me through the design and then said
she would fetch the matching panties for me to see.
While she was gone I noted the price. It wasn't the cheapest of her
selections, but it was also not the most expensive. Ruth wasn't just
chasing a big sale. It seemed like a another indication that she
genuinely wanted to help me.
She returned, holding the panties up.
"What do you think?"
I loved the set. "They're very pretty."
"Do you want the names so you can order online?"
"Ruth, you've been so kind. It's your sale."
She laughed. "I appreciate the gesture, but I'm not on commission. Do you
want to go to the tills?"
I removed the underwear and put my bra and blouse back on.
"Can you help with one more thing?" I asked.
"Of course."
"Would you mind helping me choose a skirt or a dress?"
She nodded. "Pick up your bag."
I grabbed it and as we walked to the sales floor I held it at my side.
"Over your shoulder," she said. "Come on. Enjoy what you are doing. Don't
hide."
I eased the strap over my shoulder and asked her to slow down a touch.
"You're doing very well," she said, weaving between clothes racks as I
kept up in my heels.
Occasionally she pulled off a particular skirt or dress, sometimes held
it up to me. She settled on a floral summer dress and asked me to try it
on so she could see how it looked.
We returned to the fitting room and had to wait until one became
available. The departing woman gave me a look, somewhere between disgust
and horror, like I was about to strangle her pet cat. I dismissed her,
feeling too good to let somebody so close-minded ruin my day.
I tried the dress on and slipped on my heels. I asked Ruth to come in.
She entered and stopped.
"No good?" I said, enjoying the fit and feel of the material, the way it
danced around my legs.
"Do you like it?"
"I really do," I grinned.
"It looks great. Sensible, but flirty. It suits you."
"But I don't have a real woman's body."
"No, I mean it's a pretty good fit. But it suits you. Your personality."
I spent a few moments admiring myself in the mirrors and then changed for
the last time. I met Ruth outside the fitting rooms and she led me to the
tills.
"It's been really nice meeting you. You're welcome to return," she told
me. "Just ask to try on anything you fancy. We're quite open-minded."
There was a queue so she left me and helped her colleague. She whispered
something to Sandra, the other assistant. Perhaps giving her a heads up
in case she served me.
Which she did. Sandra was very professional. Not fazed by my appearance.
I placed my handbag on the counter and removed my wallet.
"My last vestige of manhood," I joked.
They both laughed. I paid, and my new underwear set and dress were
bagged. I thanked Sandra and walked along the counter. Ruth smiled and I
nodded.
"Thank you so much," I told her. "This has meant a lot to me."
"You're most welcome."
The whole experience had taken just under an hour. I felt great. Ruth had
been so accepting of who I was. I walked across the busy sales floor, and
realised I was making no attempt to hide. My head was held high. I made
eye contact. Most didn't care about my appearance. A couple stared. One
sniggered.
But this is who I am. I know that now. I'm the one who enjoys wearing
high heels and carrying a handbag. I'm the one who feels more comfortable
in women's clothing than my own. If I can handle that, why can't you?
Nobody said anything. Just the occasional glance and smirk.
I walked into the sunlight. It was a bright day and I happily sauntered
to the car. Occasional looks again, but I maintained my composure. When I
reached the car I didn't breathe a sigh of relief. I wasn't scared or
embarrassed. I wasn't nervous.
I stopped and looked around. For the first time in my life of cross-
dressing I wasn't fighting who I was. I wasn't conflicted or torturing
myself emotionally. I was truly empowered. I didn't know how long the
feeling would last, but knew when I got home I should write about it so
no matter how distant a memory, it would always be there. Something
tangible to remind me how strong I could be.
You have one life. Don't have regrets. Be all you can be and live it to
its fullest potential. Your hopes and dreams and ambitions can be
anything. It doesn't matter who you are or what you want to be. Chase
your desires and never give up. Be accepting of others without judgement,
and hope they are of you; and if not, let them move on in their
prejudiced world and don't ever, ever let them bring you down.
I know who I am.
A husband. A writer. And a cross-dresser.
This is me.
Brandy
- 11.05.2021
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