Note: This is the final installment of the original article that I wrote a dozen years ago.
Out of Control
I had just spent from Thursday noon to Monday morning completely en femme. I felt fantastic! However, household chores needed to be done, including mowing the lawn. I certainly couldn’t do that in full makeup, wig and a dress. I changed back to boy clothes (I left my toenails painted for two weeks) and did my household chores. Afterward I discovered that I was tired. I resolved not to dress that night and to simply stay home and watch television (a movie “Just one of the girls” was on).
Then, Stacy called. She, her fiancée, and several other friends (including two CD wannabe’s) were planning a late night trek to a newly discovered gay bar that was featuring a female impersonator show that night. Did I want to come along? Well, sure. It took me only an hour and a half to get ready - maybe I’m getting too practiced at this? Stacy and her fiancée stopped by to pick me up and we were off. On the way down Stacy and I had one of our good talks. She is a good friend; one in which I placed such confidence I let her re-finance my home mortgage. We got to the bar and everyone kept wanting to buy me drinks. I restrained myself so I had only had two when the emcee of the show approached me to see if I was planning to be in the show. “No.” Did I want to be? “No.” Would I please? “No.” “Please? We need you.” “Well, OK, but I’ve never done it before, and I don’t have a clue as to what I’m doing.”
Stacy went out to my car to pick up a tape of a song I’ve fallen in love with: Whitney Houston’s “Run to You.” Naturally, I did not have on stage (read “drag”) make-up, so I borrowed the makeshift dressing room to add a little emphasis to my eyes, lips and cheeks. Going on stage in front of people is quite an interesting adventure. Even though all you do is lip-sync the song, you do have to know the words in order to make it believable. Also, you can’t simply stand in one place and move your lips. Fortunately, I had this song memorized and it meant so much to me that I was able to do a fair job of acting out the emotions it holds for me. I came in second place. Of course, the selection process is slightly rigged. They choose based on applause and since I had so many friends with me, it would have been impossible for me to come in any lower! Still, it was a lot of fun and an experience I’m glad I tried.
I was oh-so-tired for work the next day (Tuesday). I had just spent 4-½ days en femme with only a short break for yard work. I didn’t dress at all Tuesday or Wednesday. I just didn’t have the energy! I went home, made myself dinner, watched a little TV and headed to bed early. After all, the weekend was approaching and I needed to rest up.
My work began to suffer. My thoughts were constantly on dressing and what I would do that evening, where I would go, who I would meet. I logged onto the computer every day, just to be able to be with other cross dressers, if only electronically. I found myself in stores more often, looking for new clothes, jewelry, make-up, and shoes. I was clearly on a binge and I didn’t know how to stop. I told myself I didn’t want to stop. I did another show at a different bar. I found that I liked being out amongst people and I enjoyed the caricature represented by the drag queens. I avoided any heavy contact with them, because I sensed they were not a happy lot and I’d heard that many of them are into drugs, not a scene I have any interest in. But, I also recognized that I was losing control of myself, and my grip on reality. I knew I needed help; I was unable or unwilling to rein myself in. And I was becoming unhappy; I felt something was missing.
I was smart enough to know that I missed my “real” life. It is a life I’ve worked hard to have. Yet, I was afraid of losing the “life” I’d found amongst my cross-dressing friends. I sank into a bit of depression as I contemplated the loss of one or the other. My fondest dreams had them integrated, but my conscious mind could not work out the details. Even now, I’m not sure it can be wholly resolved. I knew that whatever was to happen would begin as soon as my wife arrived home from her vacation.