Purge It-Dammit!
We all know one of the most wasteful and non productive parts of our cross dressing experiences have been the "purges" we have gone through. My own non official definition of a purge is to get rid of an article or articles of something you don't want.
Many of us have been forced by others such as a spouse, girlfriend or parent to purge ourselves of our feminine clothing, shoes and makeup. I know I have done it out of a sense of shame or even a resolution never to cross dress again. The whole process soon becomes similar to cutting a weed in the yard. The more you cut it, the faster it wants to come back. At a cost, of course.
Here is a more extreme case from Connie in response to a post I had written about my "stash" mysteriously disappearing from an apartment I lived in back before I was inducted into the Army:
" My mother once, despite my extraordinary efforts to hide it, found my "stash" when I was 16. She had bagged it up and put it on the kitchen table while I was at school, and then further shamed me by ordering me to throw it in the garbage can outside. I was so ashamed that I told her I'd go one better and take it straight to the dump (partially because my messed-up mind thought that the garbage man might put two and two together, thus knowing my secret).
It wasn't long, though, before I had assembled a whole new - and upgraded - "stash", which I hid even better that time. I used to wonder "what if" I had not been made to endure such shame. I've let go of that notion, as I came to realize that I was feeling shame for something I didn't even understand at the time. The shame is that I really had nothing to be ashamed about - except for my deviousness and deception."
She (Connie) also mentioned the guy I wrote about who displayed a little extra interest in me "dressing up" after the fact:
"My first thought would have been "what if" it were that guy who ended up with my stuff. "
Good point and truly one I haven't given much thought to, except the timing wasn't quite right and besides that I was in full fledged damage control before I finally calmed down and thought what were they going to do to me? Draft me? Quickly it became too late to cry over spilled/lost panty hose anyway.
I was out of there and off to Ft. Knox for a winter vacation (basic training) a month later anyhow. If the guy did end up with my "stash" I hope he enjoyed it as much as I did.
Many of us have been forced by others such as a spouse, girlfriend or parent to purge ourselves of our feminine clothing, shoes and makeup. I know I have done it out of a sense of shame or even a resolution never to cross dress again. The whole process soon becomes similar to cutting a weed in the yard. The more you cut it, the faster it wants to come back. At a cost, of course.
Here is a more extreme case from Connie in response to a post I had written about my "stash" mysteriously disappearing from an apartment I lived in back before I was inducted into the Army:
" My mother once, despite my extraordinary efforts to hide it, found my "stash" when I was 16. She had bagged it up and put it on the kitchen table while I was at school, and then further shamed me by ordering me to throw it in the garbage can outside. I was so ashamed that I told her I'd go one better and take it straight to the dump (partially because my messed-up mind thought that the garbage man might put two and two together, thus knowing my secret).
It wasn't long, though, before I had assembled a whole new - and upgraded - "stash", which I hid even better that time. I used to wonder "what if" I had not been made to endure such shame. I've let go of that notion, as I came to realize that I was feeling shame for something I didn't even understand at the time. The shame is that I really had nothing to be ashamed about - except for my deviousness and deception."
She (Connie) also mentioned the guy I wrote about who displayed a little extra interest in me "dressing up" after the fact:
"My first thought would have been "what if" it were that guy who ended up with my stuff. "
Good point and truly one I haven't given much thought to, except the timing wasn't quite right and besides that I was in full fledged damage control before I finally calmed down and thought what were they going to do to me? Draft me? Quickly it became too late to cry over spilled/lost panty hose anyway.
I was out of there and off to Ft. Knox for a winter vacation (basic training) a month later anyhow. If the guy did end up with my "stash" I hope he enjoyed it as much as I did.
Comments