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T-Girl
Favorite Look:
Classy / Stylish
Happiness is a pair of strappy high heels, a glass of pink fizz and a short hem line. ;)
I'm a happy-go lucky T-girl, still learning the basics after spending many years too nervous to dress up, even though i desperately wanted to ever since I first hit puberty. Bless. :)
I love girly clothes, glossy lippy, eyeliner and Mac make-up, strappy open toed heels, Karen Millen dresses (they're to die for!), sparkly bling, the soft touch of stockings on freshly shaved legs, swishy long hair, cocktails, Lush products, pink fizz, Green & Black's Dark Cherry chocolate, dancing to Classic Soul, '70s Disco and Trance, and the thrill of wearing modestly flirtatious short hem lines whenever I can!
I live on the south coast of England, close to the beach, and try to make the most of it, weather permitting!
Having looked at other profiles here I realise now that mine (above) was a bit short so here's some more about me:
I suppose I began to realise I wasn’t quite like the other ‘boys’ when I hit puberty. Like everyone else I suddenly took an interest in girls for the first time and marvelled at the fact that I had never given them the time of day before. How could I have not noticed their long sleek hair, firm breasts and wonderfully curved waist and hips? They were suddenly all I could think about all day and every day. But while my friends longed to see girls naked, I actually rather enjoyed them with their clothes on. Not just any clothes of course, but deliciously feminine clothes. Skirts and dresses of course (it was always a slight turn off when they insisted on wearing masculine looking jeans and t-shirts. Why? Were they mad? It seemed to me like choosing a bottle of Blue Nun wine instead of a nice Pinot Noir) and preferably high heeled shoes, and make up to complete the look. After a while I began to recognise that it wasn’t just the women that I admired, but their choice of clothes. And actually… I’d rather like to wear the clothes too! Oh my God - I didn’t just want to be WITH a beautiful girl, I wanted to actually BE her as well.
Obviously I didn’t mention this to any of my friends as they leered at the centrefolds in Penthouse and Mayfair (sexy yes, but not as sexy as an expensive lingerie catalogue I’d caught sight of…) and boasted how much they’d like to ‘give her one’. I certainly didn’t mention it to my parents either, because I knew they would be horrified at the thought of me wanting to wear a dress.
Was I the only heterosexual boy who felt like this? It really felt like it at the time. Not really understanding much about this I assumed dressing up as a girl was something reserved for homosexuals. I knew I liked girls rather than boys, so why did I want to look like a girl as well? It didn’t really make sense to me. My first experience was a furtive and nervous search through my mum’s wardrobe when I was at home during the day revising for my exams and the house was conveniently empty. I remember pulling on a pair of tights and a dress, feeling giddy with excitement, but also scared that the front door might open at any moment. The tights in particular felt wonderful, and I couldn’t understand why every boy didn’t want to feel this way. How can anything that felt so good and didn't hurt anyone be bad? But afterwards I felt guilty at what I’d done. My upbringing had told me that this sort of thing was ‘wrong’ and I had yet to develop the sense of independence that would allow me to reject such ridiculous ‘moral’ standards. I was also terrified that my mum would somehow detect that her dress had been worn. Had I returned it to the same space in her wardrobe? Were there any tell tale creases from being worn? Would she somehow just know that her son had borrowed it? During my early teenage years my parents seemed to me to be omniscient. I pictured her opening the wardrobe, spotting something was amiss, and just knowing. A few more furtive dress up sessions followed until I decided it was just too risky.
It wasn’t until I lived with a girlfriend for the first time that the furtive dress up sessions returned. Well, how could I resist? There were all her clothes hanging in our shared wardrobe… dresses and skirts and (in the chest of drawers) sexy underwear just taunting me to wear them. Come on, you know you want to put me on… When you think of it like that it’s virtually a case of entrapment! But again there was always the thought at the back of my mind that she might come home early and catch me en-femme. There was also the intense frustration at not being able to experiment with make up (it’s one thing quickly pulling a dress off yourself and throwing it under the bed when the front door opens with an ominous click – and quite another to scrub off some make up before you’re discovered). And without a wig it just didn’t look right anyway. Ideally I also needed a corset to shape my body. So many things that I didn’t have.
After a while I began to take a keen interest in helping girl friends go shopping. I’d try hard to steer them away from dull unisex clothes and on towards the more glamorous dresses and skirts. Not only did I want to see a girlfriend dressed like that, but obviously I also had one eye on the possibility of wearing the clothes myself. Did any of them suspect I was a little too interested in women's fashion? Possibly... But they never said so. :)
The first time I dressed up as an adult was in my early twenties. I was living with a girlfriend for the first time, so suddenly I was surrounded by feminine things instead of my usual guy stuff. My GF at that time was very much the ‘indie-girl’ and she didn’t do dresses or skirts. For her it was all black leggings and punk boots and baggy ripped band t-shirts and the like: that kind of ‘boyish feminine’ look that came out of the new wave scene originally. She probably would have rolled her eyes in despair at Emma's taste in clothes and make up. She wasn’t really one for frills and lace, but one night she surprised me. She had gone out and bought a matching set of lingerie – basque, stockings, panties, suspender belt – all in soft, innocent, pearl white (though she was anything but innocent). In the evening she went off into the bathroom as we got ready for bed, changed and walked into the bedroom to stand beside the bed, one hand on a hip, looking down at me with an amused ‘come on then, boy, what are you waiting for?’ expression on her face. The sex was great, and I was even more turned on than usual by the way she was dressed. Nothing wrong with that: after all that was the point of the lingerie. But while we were having sex I was also incredibly turned on by how soft it felt and of course the thought of how wonderful it would be to wear the lingerie myself. I didn’t tell her, but as we lay there afterwards, I found it difficult to get to sleep as my mind was racing with the image of dressing up in the white ensemble.
Next day she was due to visit her mum. The lingerie was tossed into the communal wash basket and she kissed me adieu before zipping out. Well… I waited about an hour (just in case she had forgotten something and returned unexpectedly to retrieve it – something she did quite a lot come to think of it) before I rummaged through the wash basket and rescued the underwear. With dry mouth and heart beating like a trip hammer, I made sure the door was locked, retired to the bedroom and tried it on. She was a little thinner and shorter than me, so it wasn’t a perfect fit, but not so much that I couldn’t wear it. The basque fitted fine, but the stockings were a little short for my legs, even when I extended the suspender clips accordingly. It felt wonderful of course, and I must have spent several minutes posing in front of the mirror and running my hands down the material and wishing I had shoes to match (not an option – she had very small feet, alas). I remember the suspender clips being really fiddly, especially the ones at the back of the legs (I didn’t think then to attach the back clips to the stockings before rolling the stockings up my legs and then securing the rest) and I remember being terrified that I might accidentally ladder the stockings (I was pretty sure the GF knew they weren’t laddered when they went in the wash basket!) which would have been hard to explain.
I spent a while then lying on the bed, flicking through the GF’s copies of Marie Claire, imagining I had some of the gorgeous clothes in the fashion spreads, until a growing sense of paranoia that the GF might return home earlier than expected led me to change back again.
On occasion, when I’m not thinking about shoes or make up or the cruel injustice of a world in which the beautiful ASOS leopard print dress that I really, really want is no longer available to buy (that's how cruel the world can be, my girlie friends... VERY cruel), I do sometimes wonder how many ‘normal’ guys have had thoughts about dressing up at some point in their lives.
Not necessarily as a full blown lifestyle choice, where you’d have to drag them kicking and screaming out of a perfectly fitting frock, but just from a secret curiosity to see how it feels to look like the opposite sex. I realise that for someone like me it’s a strong passion that in the end I couldn’t ignore, and I realise that sort of thing is definitely in the minority, but from a more casual point of view how many men have secretly wondered what it might be like to wear a dress, just once, as a new experience? After all, a lot of men often jump at the excuse to dress up (badly of course) during stag nights, fancy dress parties, Rocky Horror show gigs and so on. In fact, suggest a cross dressing theme as ‘a bit of fun’ to a group of otherwise macho lads and it seems you can’t keep them out of a frock!
When I dress up, I dress the way I’d like a girlfriend to dress. In a sense I’m copying what I think looks good on girls, which is why I’ve never been attracted to the drag queen look by and large. If you think about it, this kind of imitation is, as the saying goes, the sincerest form of flattery. I’m saying – honey, you look so good, so beautiful, I don’t just want to be with you, I want to look like you as well. :) In other facets of life we see people we like and we aspire in our dreams to be like them. Whether it’s a pop star or actor that we admire for their looks, talent and stage presence, or the athletic prowess of a top sportsman, or the intellectual abilities of the educated elite, we see people and, at least on a subliminal level, we’d like to have at least a little of what makes them great. No one would think it strange if you suggested you’d like to look like Johnny Depp, possess the song writing talent of John Lennon, the intellectual capability of Jeremy Paxman, the wit of Stephen Fry, the ability to fight like Bruce Lee, the ability to pick up girls like Russell Brand, and so on. Aspiration in all those cases would be seen as normal. These might be people you’d admire for one reason or another and consequently, given the chance, you’d like to have the best aspects of what makes them great for yourself.
So, when it comes to women, I think the same thing. I think women look wonderful. They have so much choice in styles and fashions that men don’t have. And so, in the same way that I might listen to a Beatles album, and think, I wish I could write songs like John Lennon, I might look at a beautiful girl with perfect makeup and a gorgeous little black dress and glossy ‘fuck-me-please’ high heeled shoes and think, I wish I could look like her. What I’m saying is it’s an extension of the admiration leading to imitation principle.
The thing is, although society approves of copying inspirational role models, it draws the line when it comes to dressing up as the opposite sex. In many ways it’s the final taboo (I'm speaking here of course about things that you enjoy that don't cause harm to others). Being gay is now by and large socially acceptable and part of the mainstream to a degree that would have appeared unthinkable twenty-five years ago, but the poor T-girl (who may or may not be gay) is still languishing in a repressed social environment that would have been only too familiar to 'in the closet' gay men in the sixties and seventies.
Which brings me round again full circle to the question of how many ‘normal’ men have at one point or another wondered what it might be like to slip into a skirt and stockings, but were put off by the crippling social pressure not to do anything of the sort? Human nature being what it is, if something seems scary, then the few people who overcome their fear will always be the tip of the iceberg. For every T-girl who has discovered the sheer exhilaration and joy of dressing up and/or going out, there must be many men who’ve remained too scared to try it for themselves. It's a nice thought to imagine that some of my entourage of male friends may, unknown to me, have similar thoughts about girl clothes, and who knows, maybe one or two secretly slip into stockings and heels from time to time without me knowing. After all, none of them know about Emma... ;)
One of the things I love most about dressing as a girl is the chance to wear make up. The simple fact is girls have the opportunity to conceal all manner of blemishes and make themselves look ten years younger, just by applying good quality foundation, whereas men have to go out in public as they are.
I moisturise a lot so my skin is pretty smooth for my age, but even so, none of us are getting any younger, and I'm always delighted at how good my skin looks when I sponge on the layer of foundation and brush it over with translucent powder to set it in place. It's a remarkable transformation involving very little work. I love the perfect creamy complexion you can only achieve with foundation, and I just wish it was socially acceptable for men to look like that. I've fallen in love with false eyelashes too. They make such a difference to the look of your face. Fiddly to put on, but a bit of perseverance always gets there in the end. The first time I wore false eyelashes I thought I'd find them uncomfortable, but after a few minutes I always forget they're there.
Interests:
Cross-dressing, Shopping, Boots, Stockings / Suspenders, Office wear, Lingerie, Dressed nights out, Panties, Petticoats / slips, Goth wear, Email chat, Wigs, Erotic nights in, Other TGirls, Full Makeup, High Heels, Daytimes, Evenings, Weekends, Can Accommodate, Can Travel, Trendy/Modern club wear, BDSM / Bondage, Role Play, Uniforms, Experienced, Tights/Pantihose, Micro/Mini skirts, Corsets, Nightclubs, Satin/Silk, Furs, Relationship (casual), Relationship (serious), Females, Single/Unattached, Friendship, Art Exhibitions, Movies / Cinema, Good Food / Wine, Music Festivals / Gigs, Comedy Clubs / Festivals, Holidays / Travel, Historic Places / Architecture, Girdles, Cosplay / Costumes, Dresses, Skirts, Leggings, Playsuits, Casual Tops, Books & Literature, Theatre, Indian/Ethnic garments, Can Accommodate (Overnight), Vintage, Chastity
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