Miss_Sonya
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Apr 10, 2004
- Posts
- 295
I'm brand new to the cd scene and if no one has any objections I thought I'd make this little diary-like thread talking about my experiences and where I can ask questions! Feel free to comment or ask questions or whatever! 
It was about a Friday afternoon, with the late spring sun shining down on the city. I was able to get out of work a little early, for which I was grateful.
I knew I was going to do it. Today was the day, the first day of my new resolve, my new honesty. I am finally being honest with myself: I was going to go buy women's clothing. For myself.
I only admitted this desire to myself recently, although in another sense I've secretly known it for years. I have masqueraded as a woman online many times. In roleplaying games, I choose female characters whenever possible. I have never done this out of maliciousness or with an intent to deceive, but I suppose it ends up the same.
It was always a mental thing. The mind within myself was androgynous, liberated, but in the real world I've always been shy, straight, and straitlaced. Now all that was changing.
As I drove down the street towards the mall my hands were trembling a little. I'll never go through with it, I thought. I will walk through the departments, poke around a little, get scared and leave. I was counting on it. I was sure of it. It was my safety clause.
I have never done anything like this before. I have never been inside a Victoria's Secret before. Never really been in a lingerie department before really. I've certainly walked past them, the thought always flitting through my head -- what if, what if, what would it be like? -- and now here I was. I was in.
It was a lot to take in all at once. Colors, panties, everywhere. My god, how many panties can there be! The mystery had sort of lifted. So much color. It was like a candy store of clothes.
There were maybe twenty to thirty customers, almost all of whom were women. I just hoped I was making any of them uncomfortable, that was the last thing I wanted to do. I avoided eye contact, minded my own business. I wasn't there to pick anyone up. Just to shop.
The security guard was an older, confused looking guy. That was reassuring; the last thing I wanted was some macho encounter, some swaggering attitude directed my way. At any moment I could've wilted.
It helped that I had the "note" with my sizes carefully figured out on it. It made it look like I was shopping for a nonexistent girlfriend. I studied the note carefully, scrutinized it. Probably paid too much attention to it, and less attention to what I was buying, as it turned out. I grabbed a pair of panties and some stockings and looked around for the register. All the way in the back! Strange place for cash registers.
There was a line! A couple of women ahead of me, and only two clerks. Of course one clerk was dealing with a woman who has a problem with her credit card that has to be phoned in, while the other one is coping with some complicated return policy.
This went on for ten minutes. Ten minutes I'm standing there at the head of the line, in my jeans and leather jacket, knit shirt, feeling a bit of sweaty nervousness dripping down into the items in my hand -- a pair of hose and a pair of panties.
Now for the punchline! When I got home, I opened up my bag and discovered I had bought nude-colored thigh-highs instead of black like I had wanted! Not horrible...but damn could I please have looked at the label for more than twenty seconds?!
It was about a Friday afternoon, with the late spring sun shining down on the city. I was able to get out of work a little early, for which I was grateful.
I knew I was going to do it. Today was the day, the first day of my new resolve, my new honesty. I am finally being honest with myself: I was going to go buy women's clothing. For myself.
I only admitted this desire to myself recently, although in another sense I've secretly known it for years. I have masqueraded as a woman online many times. In roleplaying games, I choose female characters whenever possible. I have never done this out of maliciousness or with an intent to deceive, but I suppose it ends up the same.
It was always a mental thing. The mind within myself was androgynous, liberated, but in the real world I've always been shy, straight, and straitlaced. Now all that was changing.
As I drove down the street towards the mall my hands were trembling a little. I'll never go through with it, I thought. I will walk through the departments, poke around a little, get scared and leave. I was counting on it. I was sure of it. It was my safety clause.
I have never done anything like this before. I have never been inside a Victoria's Secret before. Never really been in a lingerie department before really. I've certainly walked past them, the thought always flitting through my head -- what if, what if, what would it be like? -- and now here I was. I was in.
It was a lot to take in all at once. Colors, panties, everywhere. My god, how many panties can there be! The mystery had sort of lifted. So much color. It was like a candy store of clothes.
There were maybe twenty to thirty customers, almost all of whom were women. I just hoped I was making any of them uncomfortable, that was the last thing I wanted to do. I avoided eye contact, minded my own business. I wasn't there to pick anyone up. Just to shop.
The security guard was an older, confused looking guy. That was reassuring; the last thing I wanted was some macho encounter, some swaggering attitude directed my way. At any moment I could've wilted.
It helped that I had the "note" with my sizes carefully figured out on it. It made it look like I was shopping for a nonexistent girlfriend. I studied the note carefully, scrutinized it. Probably paid too much attention to it, and less attention to what I was buying, as it turned out. I grabbed a pair of panties and some stockings and looked around for the register. All the way in the back! Strange place for cash registers.
There was a line! A couple of women ahead of me, and only two clerks. Of course one clerk was dealing with a woman who has a problem with her credit card that has to be phoned in, while the other one is coping with some complicated return policy.
This went on for ten minutes. Ten minutes I'm standing there at the head of the line, in my jeans and leather jacket, knit shirt, feeling a bit of sweaty nervousness dripping down into the items in my hand -- a pair of hose and a pair of panties.
Now for the punchline! When I got home, I opened up my bag and discovered I had bought nude-colored thigh-highs instead of black like I had wanted! Not horrible...but damn could I please have looked at the label for more than twenty seconds?!
