The Process

I love the process. The transformation. I love getting all dolled up. Perhaps more than actually being dressed.

I'm not normally a detail person. I don't have a lot of hobbies. But I suspect the thrill I get making myself up is not dissimilar to the joy a model railroader feels when they are creating a scale model town. Only for me, it's a little more visceral. At least I hope planting tiny trees doesn't give someone a boner.

I love the way my legs feel, rubbing together after I've taken all the hair off.

Tucking myself away in cute little panties. It's uncomfortable, but I love it.

The binding embrace of a corset. It's a hug that doesn't stop.

I love the feel of the pantyhose against my soft skin.

I love the feel of nail polish on my toes. Yes, I can feel it.

I love taking the extra care to apply eye shadow. Eye liner. Blush. I love painting my lips a dark red.

The added weight of the breast forms, changing my body's center of gravity.

Putting on a wig, and styling it.

I love the weight of earrings, and the way they move around.

I love slipping on heels, and how they stretch out my calves.

I love the way the air circulates around my body when I have a dress or skirt on.

The way my fingers look with long nails.

The sweet, acidic scent of perfume.

I love watching a new person emerge. Feeling like I'm someone else. Unencumbered by the conventions and habits of my day-to-day self.



And I'm going to do all of this and more at some point this weekend, and next.