Valerie fragments, or simply scatter-brained


In a typical day for me, a flurry of random thoughts go through my mind almost constantly. You may be familiar with the term “scatter-brained” and more often than not, that is me. When I need to focus on work or some other important issue, I am usually able to turn it all off and tackle the matters at hand. However, when I let my mind wander it definitely goes all over the place. Easily 95% of these random thoughts are cross-dressing related, especially in the fall/winter when Valerie is ever present.

I watched my dog the other day, as she in turn was watching our cat eating some chicken my wife had given her. The dog really wanted that chicken, but knew she couldn’t just go run in and take it. She looked at me as if begging for me to tell her it was OK to take the chicken away from that stupid cat. I never gave the approval so the dog turned its attention back to the cat and let out a little whimper of disappointment and jealousy. After the cat had finished the treat and wandered off for a bath or a nap, the dog walked up to the bowl and sniffed for any scraps left over. You could see the look of hurt and wanting in her eyes. Just then my wife said to the dog, “would you like a little snack also?” and the dog started jumping around in excitement because she so badly wanted some chicken too. With her tail-a-waggin’, the dog forgot all the worries previous, and ate the chicken at a ridiculously fast pace. When she had finished, I noticed the look in her eye was pure joy and you could tell she wanted more, more, MORE!

I’m sure you know where this is going. As soon as it was over I thought that’s exactly how I feel about cross-dressing. I sit there watching the “cats” as they do their make-up and wear the pretty clothes, wishing I could get the permission from society to run in and share in the “chicken”. When the situation presents itself where I can get some time to be Valerie, or like recently when my wife helped me to go out, then the look in my eyes and soul becomes one of pure joy and I find myself wanting more, more, MORE!

Anyway, while the dog story is an appropriate metaphor for Valerie’s existence, that really wasn’t the only topic I sat down to write about today. What I intended to discuss was a few simple thoughts/situations I have had recently, but that individually didn’t seem to have enough substance for a full blogging (like the dog story). So I have begun call these “Valerie fragments”, at least that’s the name of the file I stuck the idea in. Anyway, here are a few more:


I am not as broken as I once thought. By that I mean, I have long held the view that something has always been wrong with me, that somewhere along the line some wires got crossed and made me transgender. Along with that mindset, I always viewed it as my problem. After spending a year on the blogging circuit I no longer feel that way. While I still feel different, I don’t feel “broken”. I have many of you to thank for that, so thank you.


Last week I had a meeting at work with an organization we often partner with. They brought along a new team member who was named “Bob”. I couldn’t help but think that he must be transgender since I am meeting “Bob”, and many of you U.K. Girls often refer to this “Bob”. I scanned him over completely for any clues and really found nothing. Seems like a typical guy, but I so wanted to find one shred of evidence that would prove me right. Oh well, apparently not all “Bobs” have another side of their personality. Hopefully he (or anyone else in the room) didn’t notice me visually over-inspecting him.


I am seriously thinking of expanding Valerie’s horizons a bit more in the future. One step I may take is contacting and joining a support group… sort of moving up to the next size closet. One of the (many) reasons I have not done so before is I thought it would feel odd just sitting in a room or gathering with several men dressed like women, or with transgender women presenting as their true selves. So what do you do when you go to these meetings? It’s not just unstructured, casual talk is it? If so, I’m not sure I could handle that on my own. So tell me girls, what do you do?


I typically do most of my WordPress work on my laptop. Recently I have been accessing WordPress through the mobile app and viewing and commenting via my phone. It certainly is more convenient but I have “fat-fingering” problem. Touch the wrong part of the screen and I am liking or following comments and blogs I never meant to. The reverse is also true… I scroll through the reader at the multitude of blogs I follow and have inadvertently unfollowed blogs I never meant to remove. When I realize I haven’t seen a posting in a quite awhile, I check and see I am no longer following. Frustrating! So if you’re a blogger and you see notification that I am again following you, this is why. Sorry! I’m sure I have lost some that I can’t remember, but I’ll eventually find them again.


Speaking of the multitude of blogs I follow. I am amazed at how quickly I can get behind in reading the various posts. TG or other, we bloggers obviously have a lot on our minds. I suppose that is what we are supposed to do. But being that I have limited access time (it’s a closet thing), I sometimes can’t get back in to read all the wonderful posts and then POOF, there’s 25 of them. I love reading the various blogs, so it’s a wonderful problem to have.


As I was filling out a form in my male life (aka, “Bob’s world… thanks UK girls!), I had to fill in my middle name. When I was finished I thought about the fact that Valerie South has no middle name, and she needs one. So I am considering a few, but want one that both appeals to me and rolls off the tongue well. I considered both June and Grace for obvious reasons, but they just don’t feel altogether right. Since I have the luxury of picking my own and am in no hurry, I will probably spend countless hours thinking about it. For some reason Ann seems to sound good, but I have no personal attachment to the name. If there was a strong 1950s connection to it, I would go with it. But again… I’m in no hurry since Valerie has no forms that need filling out at the moment.

So there you go. A whole bunch of useless thoughts finally expelled from my mind and now out saturating the internet. I have many more, but in an effort to be somewhat merciful to all three readers, I’ll stop here for now. There will definitely be another “Valerie Fragments” post sometime in the future.




Staying abreast of the core issues


Whenever I look at a woman, I see a symphony of beauty and form that just mesmerizes me. Every curve, every movement is just so appealing to me. So much that it is hard to put into words. I believe at my very core that it is this extreme admiration that fuels my cross-dressing desires. I want to look like that, to emulate that beauty.

There are many different things about the female form that I find attractive, both as a guy (i.e.) sexually, and as a cross-dresser purely interested in the feminine beauty. Her beautiful hair, the way her hips move as she walks in a pair of heels, the sound of a petticoat rustling (OK, that one is Valerie specific), the allure of long fingernails, etc., etc. I could go on and on. But the one aspect of a woman that is the most mesmerizing to me is her breasts.

Now if a straight, non cross-dressing guy were reading this he would probably let out that borderline perverted “heh, heh, heh” along with a predatory smirk that is truly disgusting to me. But since I am typically talking to like minded individuals here, I hope you can understand my admiration without the typical male lust usually associated with a discussion of “tits”.

Breasts are such a feminine attribute, unequaled by any other aspect in my mind. They sort of transmit the idea of womanhood that honestly I am having trouble explaining here. When you see an androgynous sort of person, not knowing if they are male or female (and perhaps that’s how they want to be perceived) the appearance of breasts instantly casts your mind into the belief that is a woman.

I put cleavage into the same category, being it is derived from her breasts. It is such a feminine attribute that I love the look. So much that I have a “boob belt” that creates cleavage in my bra when dressing up. However, seeing the cleavage isn’t always necessary. Just the shape of breasts under a sweater is beautiful in itself. This probably helps to explain why I admire the 1950s look of a tight sweater with a full skirt, and even why “bullet bras” are so mesmerizing.


The reason I am writing about breasts is because they are one of the things that if they were not present in my feminine presentation, I would not feel whole. I could enjoy being Valerie without wearing earrings, without a petticoat, or without high heels. I prefer all of those things, but could temporarily go without them. Without the appearance of breasts I feel incomplete.

It is one the nagging aspects that continually makes me wonder if I am truly a cross-dresser or if I am somewhere in between cross-dressing and a transsexual. In actuality, it was my wife that first brought this to my attention. If it is just about the clothes like I always thought, then why can’t I just wear a skirt and be satisfied?

Truth be told, I do want to be a woman. I am not a transsexual, but I do want to be a woman. I am not a woman inside. I don’t have a problem with what nature gave be below the waist. I am happy at times living as a male/husband/father. The whole silly reason I want to be a woman is so I can dress and look like a woman,without the societal issues and baggage. Simple as that.

So when being Valerie, I need to have breasts. When I am dressed, I would love to have real breasts to put in the bra and have legitimate cleavage. Not because I am a woman deep inside, just because I am captivated with the look and want to have the look. I do not want to transition to being a woman, but I wouldn’t mind having breasts… as long as I could hide them when needed. That’s a dream that doesn’t have a reality based solution.

So I continue to pad myself and create temporary cleavage. It isn’t as good as real breasts, but it gets the job done. Over the years I have put almost everything imaginable in my cups to create the image of breasts… socks, balled up nylons or panties, nylons filled with bird seed (believe it or not that a popular option with many CDs I know), parts of Nerf balls,balloons, water balloons, and on and on. Currently I use cup shaped padding designed to give a girl an increase in cup size. I just double/triple them up and get my desired C cup.

However, the one thing I have never tried is actual prosthetic breast forms. The idea of attaching them to my chest with and adhesive and really “wearing” them is intriguing. They wouldn’t give the cleavage, but they would certainly increase the “feel”. Not absolutely sure I would like them, and they are not exactly cheap, but yet I am still interested. My wife would probably not be in favor of them, but she’s seen plenty she doesn’t understand with me and sticks with me, so hopefully if I ever do get some, it won’t be a deal breaker.

I didn’t intend to write an entire post on breasts, it just sort of drifted that way and to be honest it feels a bit odd to do so. I am hoping this doesn’t seem too creepy and effectively can convey my admiration and desire to imitate, vs. seeming like a adolescent fascination with “boobs”. I certainly don’t want it to seem demeaning, and am just trying to express the thoughts rambling around in the caverns of my mind.



Can you see the real me? or… My cosmic iPod


I have mentioned before that I listen to music quite often and am deeply inspired by a great song. I listen to music more than I partake in any other form of media, and I listen to it at a level deeper than most. Sometimes I focus on the musicianship, and sometimes I focus on the lyrics.

I was in the lyrical mode the other day, listening to my iPod on random shuffle while working out. Something cosmic may have been happening because it seemed each song, or specific passages, were speaking to Valerie. (OK, OK… I admit to my mind wandering as I work out… and most other times). Call it iPod therapy or iPod philosophy, both seem to fit. I guess you could also call it Valerie reading way too much into the meanings, which is probably also true, since you can twist many lyrics to be interpreted however you want. But since this is my blog, I will go with the cosmic/subconscious angle because it makes for a better ramble.

So first came Ann and Nancy Wilson singing “I know you got a secret that you really don’t want to show”. Gave me a little smile and I said to myself “well that’s an understatement ladies”. As the song kept going it went “I know what I’m talking about, cause I’ve seen it leaking out.” Of course I thought well I shouldn’t be so careless, as I might be outing myself. The rest of the song didn’t have much direct meaning so that’s where the connection ended. At least for that song…

Next I had Sheryl Crow telling me “If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad.” So then I had to reply to Sheryl telling her that I certainly agree. I thought so many people are searching for peace and happiness, when you find the thing that delivers, why do we make it out to be such an issue? Of course, you can’t just let everybody do anything that makes them happy, or we would have some real issues. But since she was just talking to me about being Valerie at the moment, I said to myself it isn’t that bad and I wish I didn’t have to hide it. And that it does indeed make me happy. At this point, I may have been singing along out loud a little too enthusiastically… Oh well. I was also thinking it was kind of entertaining that the songs were discussing Valerie with me as I went through my routine.

Next song was a bit of a stretch, but it got to me a bit more emotionally. It was “Cryin’” by Boston. (songs show my age, don’t they?) The lyrics went “It’s crazy how we feel, we’re staring at the walls and living out of magazines”. From an “in the closet perspective” this hits home. Later it went on “If you take a chance, would you like to dance, cause my heart is cryin’…” I instantly thought I shouldn’t be so reclusive and take more chances. I might have felt a goose-bump or two as I thought about this. Before I knew it, the song was over and I wondered what the cosmos was going to throw at me next? Something even deeper and profound? Something to really explain who and what Valerie is??

The cosmos didn’t disappoint! Next was Who’s “The Real Me”. As soon as it started I cracked a pretty big smile and said something to the effect of “Well played!”. But as the song wore on, the lyric that eerily blared out was “Can you see the real me, doctor, DOCTOR?!” I stopped exercising and froze in my tracks.

I instantly got that weird sensation similar to a deja-vu moment, when you sort of step back and think “whoa, what was that?”. With my recent doctor visit causing me to worry so much when I “semi-outed” myself, this was just a little too real.

On a side note, when I went back to the doctor, after my weekend trip, I was 100% hairless, still had my toenails painted and was wearing panties. I decided “Que sera, sera” is sort of my mantra and decided to let whatever happens happen. So as fate would have it, she didn’t ask to check my feet or give me an injection, so she saw absolutely nothing more and made no reference to anything that happened the on the last visit. So much for all the internal debate and worry! And I was SO ready for it! Figures…

Anyway, back to the iPod and song selection… I know it’s all coincidence and I was pretty much making the lyrics fit my thoughts and desires, but this last song sort of made me wonder. I switched off the iPod and decided I really didn’t want to hear what the next song might be and what philosophical insight it might render.

The rest of the day, I kept thinking about what Roger D. was saying? Can you see the real me, mother, preacher, doctor etc? Who really knows me besides my wife? I guess my doctor knows a bit, so does my mother if she adds up all the pieces. The preacher? Well there isn’t one in my life at the moment,so that is a “No”. Anyway, I will never think of that song the same way again, and it still sends a little shiver down my spine when I think about how it all played out.

Can you see the real me? Well I suppose you can if you look hard enough.


A reassessment and a plan


My recent opportunity to go into the world as Valerie was unbelievably wondrous. I can tell you the entire experience ranks as one of the most significant events in my life. Several pieces of my soul that have been historically fragmented and kept in separate boxes were able to come together and give me a sense of balance and satisfaction unlike anything I have experienced before.

It was more than being able to dress. It was more than being outside of my usual confines. It was more than just a weekend trip. It was all of those things combined with the love and help of my wife. Having an opportunity for her to express her concerns and general dislike for my dressing was beneficial to both of us. I may not have liked all of her answers, but that is truly how she feels and I respect her candor and honesty immensely.

Hearing her express that she feels I don’t know myself well enough to realize I am gay is hard to hear. Hearing her tell me she is still not comfortable with my cross-dressing and is not interested in learning or doing more is equally hard to take. However, she made the arrangements and put aside all those feelings to make it possible for me, simply because she loves me. I enjoyed the trip, the dressing, and the going out into the world, but her being there and telling me above and beyond anything else she is doing this because she loves me is one of the sweetest things I have ever heard.

In retrospect, that is what made me the happiest, and why this entire experience was so unbelievable.

It was brutal honesty at its best. She said it like it is and so did I. I told her she could ask me anything and I would always be 100% honest with her. That is true, I will always be as straightforward as I can be with her and anything related to being Valerie. I believe there are many questions she is afraid to ask, or maybe she just prefers not to know. Either way it’s fine with me. If and when she wants to ask, I will tell her the absolute truth and hope she can believe me.

During this experience, she watched me transform. I went in as the man she has known and loved for years and then she saw all the details. She watched all the preparations, body hair, painting nails, shape-wear/undergarments, makeup, wig, and then the clothes. She has seen me dressed before many times, but she never saw the details of building Valerie like she did this time. I felt totally vulnerable the entire time I got ready, even though I know I didn’t need to. This was baring my soul to another, and I don’t think I could ever do it in front of anybody else. Once I was complete, I was fully dressed but also completely naked. I know I have never been so emotionally vulnerable in my life. She could have said something negative and I would have crashed, but that didn’t happen. All she really said was, “Are you ready?”.

I have always felt somewhat submissive when dressed and this was that feeling to the extreme. I needed my wife during this experience like a child needs her mother. Without her, I’m not sure I could have seen this through. As I walked out the door as Valerie I quickly realized I don’t really care what the world thought of me, but I do care what my wife thinks of me. I would love for her to be more accepting and more involved, but just having her unconditional love is essential piece.

I walked into that hotel as the man she has known and loved for years, and I walked out of that hotel as the same man, but made up like a woman. That’s how I see it, but I fear she doesn’t.

She said she thinks I am truly gay, and just in denial. I don’t want her to think that simply because it’s not true. I don’t care if anyone else thinks I’m gay. What they think doesn’t change anything for me. What I fear is that if my wife truly believes this, she will eventually decide there is no reason to stay together. I want her to know that I love her, emotionally and physically. I just don’t want her thinking that I am anything but totally committed to her and my family.

If you can’t tell, I am still in somewhat of a state of high emotion from this experience and once again just gushing thoughts with little organization in my writing. For that I am sorry. I am still in that “rainbow fog” but also still immensely happy. I am in a great mood and have been for several days. Eventually I will level out.

One thing I have resolved to do is to do something extra special for my wife for Valentines Day. We usually don’t do too much, because it seems like a goofy holiday made up to sell greeting cards, flowers, and chocolates. This time, I’m going all out for her… because it makes me even happier. I want to do something that will make her feel as good as she made me feel when Valerie went out.

I have been looking around for a spa that will take her and massage and pamper her until she pukes happy like I have been for the last few weeks. I’m talking an all day event… massage, pedicure, manicure, facial, wine, hair… etc, etc. I am going to give her the invitation (certificate) in a card with a single rose and a heart-felt letter telling how much I appreciate and love her. She may not like me doing so much for Valentines Day, but one thing I can tell you from my years crossing over the gender line is that deep down she will love it!

It’s now Mrs. South’s turn.