pardon my megaphone for a minute

I hate to use this blog, which is driven to be for entertainment, but I figure if I work so hard on this blog you won't mind me ranting for a bit (if you did, I wouldn't have nearly so many followers).

So where to begin? I guess I'll start with how my wave of recent crossdressing desire reared it's ugly head (not always a bad thing, but when you've been away from it for a while, it feels like a roller coaster when it hits you). So I've been doing some 5k's this year, and during one race my sock must have wrapped itself over my toes, and pulled to the point where it bruised my toenail. Currently my nail is black (and it's not really growing out). It's also not falling out, which concerns me a bit because I'm hoping it's not a dead nail.

Anyway, I got tired of staring at this black toe (sticks out like a sore thumb), so I decided to cover it to make it look more normal. Now I've never been too much of a fan of red nails. It looks like blood if not done perfect, and even then it looks un-natural. So I decided I would try doing a french manicure. I looked around, and found this great polish called barbie:
http://www.zoya.com/content/38/item/Zoya/Zoya-Nail-Polish-Barbie.html

It's a really pretty shade of pink, and makes for a descent shade for french manicure as you can see (warning, I don't have the prettiest feet in the world). The arrow is pointing at the bad toe:


So that got me on my kick. Traveling around during Christmas with painted toes, going to work with painted toes, and none the wiser. I got the urges, I had to expand. I decided my one reasonably priced wig I have isn't cutting it anymore, and the crappy $20 ebay wig looks like crap, so I currently have a wig on it's way from vogue wigs:


No, I didn't get blonde. It's so stereotypical (look at me, I'm a blonde bimbo, yet I'm a man in his 30's). I decided to try a red with brown highlights color, hopefully it suits my face.

Now first let me step back a minute. Earlier this year, I had to chop all my hair off. I was laid off, and knew I wasn't getting anywhere in job interviews because of my appearance. Clean cut haircut and voila! Job in hand. I had really long hair, in fact 14 inches went to locks of love (might as well go to a good cause). I was a little bit saddened at having to do this (even though I didn't let it show, even when people still ask me about it). Part of me didn't care because I'm reaching that age where I'm starting to get grey hairs. Yes I can color it, but greys have a hard texture I can't stand, plus I don't want to be getting my hair colored all the time (even as much fun as that might be to go to a hairdresser to have that done). Once in a while when I'm stressed, I reach to the back of my head by habit looking for a ponytail that isn't there anymore, sort of a lost limb syndrome.

So then last night my wife teases me (like she does often) about how I don't like sex since we don't have it that often. Also saying my new years resolution should be committing to having sex once a week. I start to think about it, and really start to analyze myself. Do I like sex as a guy? Do I not love my wife? Everytime I masterbate, or have sex, it's ALWAYS about me being a girl and satisfying a guy (or being stuck as a girl, you fill in the fictionmania theme, I've had them all). So then I think "Man, what if I'm just not happy as a guy? What if I just can't satisfy my wife anymore? What if she isn't what I want? How would she react if I told her? How hard would it be living with her knowing we were nothing more than friends, roommates?"

I'll tell you what, it scared the crap out of me. I realize I can't keep up this facade that I'm just in a rut. I communicate to her about everything, but this is so big I feel like I can't. At the same time, I know I don't want to transition, but how is she supposed to deal with this? "Sorry honey, I'm in one of my girl waves, I'll see you in a month or so".

So then I decide I've had enough, I decide I need to really get in touch with my body. After fantasizing about having a vagina and a clit for the last couple days, after I crawl into bed with my wife fast asleep, I decide to do some exploring. No, I didn't masterbate, I felt my penis and balls. Now I must preface that one thing that has been with me as long as I can remember is that I'm really sensitive how my balls are touched or played with. My wife has never been with a man where they didn't like their balls stroked. I don't know if it's childhood experience where my dad tickled me when he was drunk and got a little too close to my manhood, or the fact that I have only one descended ball, or the fact that I got a hernia when I was 12, but me and my ball have never been too friendly.

So there I am, lying in bed, hand on my penis. I hold it for a while, decide if I like it being held or not. I'm not sure if I liked the idea of my penis being held, or in the back of my head I'm thinking "yea, if I was a girl, I'd be enjoying holding onto a dick with my soft petite hand". So then it's time to touch the other part. I touch my ball, ok not a great feeling, but not bad. Then I start to stroke it a little, even squeezing lightly. I think "If I had a vagina, this is what it probably feels like but inverted". I didn't like it. Even though I was sorta getting a boner, I really didn't like it.

I sat there and realized I'm not comfortable in my body. As much as I try to deny it, I'm not that crazy about being a guy. Does this mean I have plans to transition? Not likely. I am a woman trapped in a woman's body, and there's not a dam thing I can do about it. "But jessica, thousands of men live as women, and many of them transition into women!" yea, uh-huh, how's that working out? I realize what a struggle it is to make it in this world being somewhat normal, now throw gender confusion into the mix, and your on the fast road to being jobless, and possibly homeless, and alone. How many stories do you read where transgender people are just as miserable on the other side. Yes, there are support groups, there are friends, but I guess my urges just aren't strong enough to make that leap (and they aren't exactly consistant).

So there I laid staring at the ceiling, for at least an hour, looking back at the clock to see how much time has gone by and I couldn't fall asleep. And let me tell you, I'm the type of person that can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, so you know I was bothered by my thoughts last night. I nearly cried, I didn't know what to think anymore. In fact thinking back last night today at work, I nearly had the urge to cry. It's as if my body has released estrogen and I'm thinking like a woman.

But life goes on, and like most people like me, I will continue to put on my metaphoric mask on to satisfy society.