not to buy the boots? (or, ‘something of a fundamental question’)


My apologies for being late on getting this up, and it’s condensed at that.  Let’s make a rule – I promise never to promise to do anything “tomorrow”.  That may seem downright lawyerly, but you can’t be disappointed ever if I promise to get to something “next time”.  I’ll keep that promise.  But promising to do something “tomorrow”, in cyberspace, seems rather pointless.  This is the only space in which we have some control over at least the forward movement of time.  The past is the past, of course.

Okay so I’m in Asheville, hippie-town western NC, with a nice little dimebag, some girlie underwear and makeup, and some time on my hands before an amazing musicfest known as Warren Haynes’ Christmas Jam.  What does a girl do .  .  . hmm . . . oh yeah – we go shopping!  I actually looked at high-heeled boots in ShoeCarnival while on a earlier business trip to Asheville.  The saleswoman there that afternoon actually offered to let me use the dressing room if I wanted to try anything on.  That was an unsettling moment for me, as accepting her offer required an admission that I was not yet ready to make.  That was a pivotal moment for me, especially in terms of making progress toward accepting that I am transgendered, a crossdresser (CD).

More about Asheville, next time.  Not wanting to turn this into another boring southern confessional pretending to some facsimile of the “great american novel”, I’m going to take some breaks in the storytelling for some current events.  I’ll usually have a thread or two running through these entries, keep things spicy.  It’s how my mind works, it’s a little easier that way.

 Til then, kisses!!  KM

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