Island of crossdressing

2015 it is. Valentine’s day.

I am thinking of times during college. 2011. I am stuck in past. Momentarily, though. It is 2:05 AM. I am alone in my bedroom. It’s quite cold. I can hear the sound of distant speeding vehicles on highway. My brother is watching a popular film on TV. Dogs bark occasionally. I tried chatting with a pretty girl and it seems she has fallen asleep now. Not her fault. She had a long, tiring day at work. She needs rest. On the other hand, my mind is thinking on so many different levels.

I miss 2011 sometimes. Life has changed. I haven’t cross dressed since 2013. It feels as if I am different person now. I no longer get the craving of silky long smooth hair wigs, a feeling of bra strap on my back, the softness of feminine under garments, the delicate clothes, the powerful and overwhelming high heels, the smell of lipstick and the act of painting my lips red. I am no longer there – in the phase.

Life is strange.

I had young skin. Boyish features. I was fit.

I am old now. Over weight. I have masculine features that are hard to hide. Some of hair is grey. My facial skin is ruined because of shaving accidents. I am just 27 now and yet, I feel old.

I turn on my laptop sometimes. Go to that folder with computer-like name. It has my pictures. Not many have seen them. I feel as if it is my treasure. It means so much to me. I click and open the folder. So many pictures. I was young and stupid. But, I think I was beautiful. I did what I can with what I had. I smile and find it funny that no one ever thought that there was this side to me.

Once when I was Rebecca Watson…

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