The Post-Christmas Post

The holiday is past now, but the feelings linger on. Christmas went very well for us, other than financially. The missus and I worked together well to put everything in order, plus into bed by 7am Christmas morning! Luckily, our kids have finally reached an age where they can endure waiting a few hours to start opening packages.

I had a high time shopping for Mrs. Leslie. Most of the purchases were made at Kohl's department store. We shopped together first, so that she could give me some idea of her likes and dislikes. I kept commenting about styles and colors that I liked, and strangely, they were quite different from her faves. So, once turned loose in the racks, I bought things that she would like. I still looked for myself too, of course. Having gotten nice things off their clearance racks before, I combed through them vigorously. I left with an armful of things for Mrs. L, but nothing for moi. That was a downer.

The next evening I dropped by Macy's. I hardly ever darken their door, but people whose fashion sense I admire (Shannon and Petra, for example) swear by the store. I was astounded by both the prices (much higher than I expected) and the fashions ("butt ugly" crossed my lips frequently). I understand that clearance racks are likely to be filled with items that the public refused to purchase at full retail, so that may explain the unbearable eyesores hanging there. Sadly, the items that looked halfway wearable were not great bargains even on clearance.

Finally, I found something that I liked, a stretchy black skirt, cut a bit above the knee. The tag read around $12, but I ran a price check on the bar code and it came up at $7! Even a mistake would be worth that price, so I bought it. It looks okay on me, but I still need some sort of black shoe or boot with a closed toe. There is no way I'm wearing this one bare legged, and I'm not keen on hosiery and sandals. The skirt won't be making an appearance at Saturday's meeting.

Tuesday night, I saw that Soma had a 5 panties for $20 sale online, so I placed an order there too. I truly can't afford to do these things, but, mentally I can't afford not to. These purchases are going to get me through the winter and the worst of my dysphoria, if past is precedent.

The family got Wii Fit from Santa. Four of us have been having great fun with it, and it is making for some fine quality time with the kids. I got a WWII dogfight game, and have been shooting down German planes more than reading blogs in the wee (Wii) hours. I've been ready to write about all this for three days, but couldn't tear myself away from the Wii. Very addictive when you find the right game. Oh, and no surprise, but Leslie did not get any gifts.

Because of New Year's Eve, I have to do the bulk of my meeting prep right now, rather than Friday night. So, if you'll excuse me, I need to go choose an outfit. Happy new year!

Glad Tidings and All That

Tra la, tra la, 'tis Christmas. Merry merry to all that celebrate such things.

Aside from profligate spending on a par with drunken congressmen, the holiday is going well. My wife and I seem to work well together and enjoy one another's company when we have a common goal. As a result, our Christmases, while rushed and exhausting, are times when we bond and get along well. This year we are even a bit ahead of our usual timetable. With any luck at all, we will be in bed before 4am Christmas morning. Many years, we see the sunrise through sleepless eyes.

We are finally laying the Santa fallacy to rest. He still visits, but we aren't making a big effort on the believability front. He will be bringing us the Wii Fit, among other things.

We've visited our nearby Kohl's department store a couple times this week. Today, I was purchasing for Mrs. L. Naturally, I was looking with myself in mind as well. I just love combing through the racks, now without any self-consciousness. I'm not to the point of holding things up to myself to check sizing, but I'm not shy about checking out the stuff. After I made my purchases, I felt a little sad, as I failed to find anything for myself. While looking around with the missus, I frequently commented about items and styles that I liked, but I didn't ask for anything directly. In the past, the automatic response has been that if I want things like that, I will have to purchase them myself. She won't be a party to it. So, I opted for hinting this year, and maybe she will have softened.

We made enormous headway with our clutter issues, mostly to make proper room for a tree. We rearranged the garage to make room for a sofa we are retiring, and segregated much of the material that we intend to market in a yard sale when the weather warms. There are many bags of clothes in this zone of the garage now, and with the yard sale designation, I feel that they are fair game for my perusal. I have spent a couple of late nights this week going through bags. I have pulled seventy or eighty items so far, some as wardrobe basics, others as center pieces. Now, some may not fit when I get around to trying them on, or look ridiculous on my manly frame, but they looked close enough to claim them.

I suppose I am making my own Christmas dreams come true. May all of yours come true as well.

Mixed Bag

Again, news is piling up, unreported. I will try to clean out the backlog. Today was the most interesting development, but I will take things in order.

My meeting (a week ago!) went swimmingly. Sat with the radiant Shannon. Much of the meeting was spent viewing an HBO documentary called Middle Sexes. It's a pretty good doc, if you have a taste for such things. I did get to show off my rejuvenated wig, and felt less self-conscious than other recent meetings.

The time spent at the meeting must have been what the doctor ordered. I spent the better part of a week without the constant tug of dysphoria. It felt a bit flat, as some others have been writing lately. I'm not a huge fan of feeling flat, but it was a nice break from the torture.

Two emails managed to knock me down a couple nights ago. Both from very close friends, one with great news, and one who is having wife trouble much like my own. I'm not divulging any content, but the severe up and down took me off balance. I was quite upset and depressed when I went to bed.

My sister-in-law, D, has been moving for about a week, and has reached the point of needing to get out. Naturally, the deadline created a lot of pressure and pleas for help. In the afternoon, I talked with her at length on the phone. She told me that Mrs. Leslie has been discussing the marital/gender problems pretty extensively with her. She gave me a good idea of the advice she has been giving my wife. She is doing a good job of not taking sides, I think.

D believes that the children should be told what is going on with me. She thinks that the kids sense the tension between their parents, and knowing the truth would be a relief. I said that would have to happen unilaterally, as Mrs. L would never go for it. D said that it isn't Mrs. L's call to make. It is between the kids and their father. Interesting take, eh? She also has been suggesting that staying together because of finances is a bad reason. Mrs. L "wants to get on with her life," and I "need to have a life." She did point out that her standard advice to Mrs. L is to throw me out, but as an answer to the complaints she is hearing, not out of any dislike for me. Just a practical, realistic assessment of the situation.

In the late evening/early morning hours, I assisted her with packing the last things and cleaning the apartment. This was done during a howling snowstorm and temps well below freezing. While I was vacuuming, I commented that it was a shame that it was too cold to be doing this in a French maid outfit. She laughed and asked my thoughts on fishnets with said costume. We agreed that fishnets are a bit slutty and not to our taste. We had a nice discussion about shoes as she packed her large assortment of heels. Excellent fashion taste. She genuinely understands my love of feminine things, because she feels the same way.

D had breast cancer a few years ago, and has a couple wigs that she no longer needs. She wanted me to have them. We talked about Mrs. L's issues with the recent wig maintenance, and D sided with me. She knows that wigs get hopelessly tangled and need professional help sometimes, whilst Mrs. L has no experience with wigs. We only found one of the wigs tonight, but she will be looking for the other as she unpacks. She described the one I got tonight as Jane Fonda's Klute hairstyle. I can't wait to give it a spin.

I've Been Remiss

I suppose I shouldn't have left everyone hanging like that. I did leave off in a bad place. Allow me to bring you up to date.

After the big talk Saturday night, we had a fairly quiet, if tense, Sunday. We were apart most of the day, allowing tempers to dampen.

Monday, I went to see my therapist. It was a rather intense session, as you would expect. Nothing was settled, mind you, but we did explore the major choices I have, the biggest being should I stay or should I go? I am still ready to keep trying to make this work, and it would be great if it could. Realistically, though, I cannot imagine Mrs. Leslie bending to the extent I would need. Miracles happen everyday, but not usually to me. In light of the facts, we will begin to look at an escape plan, in case things become intolerable.

Mrs. L went to see her therapist on Wednesday. Before she left, she asked if she needed to talk breakup with her shrink. I assured her that she didn't. That's a pretty big whopper, even by my standards. There is nothing eminent, but she ought to prepare for that contingency. Maybe I'm leaving her with false hope, but if I pull the rug out from under her, there might not be an opportunity to heal. Tough choice, and one consideration was the difficulty of the subject. So, nothing at all learned from the last talk.

Our affection has resumed to a degree over the week. She has been more talkative and touchy-feely. Even a few hugs and kisses. The bare legs make me question the resumption of conjugals, but the lessening of tensions is good enough for now.

My support group meets Saturday night, so I have been preparing myself and my trousseau for the evening. When feminine presentation is pursued fully only once a month, the details do not come naturally. Essentially, I start from scratch each month. Such is the fate of the part-time woman. We are expecting snow all day Saturday (nothing resembling what the UK is enduring), so attendance may be a little thin.

I think I am going to use the Christmas shopping excuse with the kids, just to give me a fresh reason to be leaving them alone. I am becoming increasingly reticent about telling stories to them regarding my whereabouts. No solutions come readily to mind. Funny how much worse I feel lying to the kids than to the missus.

Oh, one last thing, a happy thing. I picked up my wig from the shop today. Pam washed and conditioned it, and gave it a much needed trim. The tangled ends are gone, the hair is soft and shiny, and the bounce is back in the wavy curls. It's an inch or so shorter, but so much nicer than when I left it with her. Pam is an artist. All for twenty bucks! I will take my hair in for maintenance more often, given the quality and price.

Now, off to final packing for my meeting.

Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

It's good policy to write things down when you're upset, set them aside overnight, and then find more delicate and politic ways of conveying your message. I'm going to set aside the second and third parts, and just share my largely unedited thoughts. I don't expect this to flow well, or even make sense fully. I don't care, not like I usually do. I am a raw nerve, and we'll see where it goes. I know my audience, thanks to the private blog, so I feel safe to let loose.

After our tense dinner Friday, we went without touching one another in bed, then said next to nothing significant all day Saturday. When she was coming home from work, I knew that tonight was going to be the talk. A brief call on her way home, coming home much earlier than usual, fixing herself a drink. We watched The Closer, then she told me she isn't happy.

I told her that I knew that. It's been obvious to me for a good while. She says she feels like she's faking her way through life, pretending that everything is okay, that we are a happy couple. She says she is trapped. I told her that everything she is saying is true for me too.

Okay, I want to drop the blow by blow. My head is spinning with dark thoughts.

I am a terrible father. My boy thinks I'd rather be at work than with my family. He said this Thursday. I guess my absence is considered to be a choice, not a necessity. The missus insists that she has never said anything to the kids that would even hint at this idea. I believe her. I just have so much trouble bonding with people.

My bare legs were the first thing she brought up, so it's safe to assume that this issue is never going to fade. I do whatever I want to do. I stay up all hours, sleep in and hurry off to work. We never have time to talk, and that is my fault. My question: why would I want to talk with someone that clearly doesn't like me? Isn't my time better spent chatting with Liz or Renee or Sophie or Shandy, writing to Calie or Claire or Halle or Elly or Penny or Petra? They care. They understand me. They want to hear my most deeply held thoughts. They don't require a fucking filter.

I hate my life and she hates her life. And short of bankruptcy, we are stuck together for many years to come. I told her my suspicions that she has a plan to exile me next year. She thought that was laughable, but in the next breath was wondering what would ever be enough for me, how many years she has till I make my escape. I can truly say here that she isn't doing much to make me want to stay.

We are caught up in a vicious cycle. She resents the time I spend online every night. Yet, her coldness and anger make me want to delay going to bed even further. Since she made her issue clear three(?) weeks ago, I have substantially increased my time and effort with household and child care matters. I can't change overnight, and I'm getting less incentive with each passing day.

So, I'll regret this post tomorrow, I guess. I still feel bound up, but I don't know what else to write. My life sucks, and I make little or no progress in changing that. I just complain about it and try to make it another day.

Tension Makes a Tangle

The other shoe has yet to drop. A good week altogether, with the holiday keeping my mind busy on other things.

Then, today, I said something to Mrs. Leslie about her having a glass of wine at home. I didn't mean anything critical by it, I just thought she was going to be driving later on. Yet, she took it as critical, and snapped at me that I have been rather judgmental of her lately. I kept my cool, told her I didn't realize I had been striking an attitude, but said I would try to temper it.

Nothing further was said on the subject, but I quickly began a slide into my dark place, questioning my own worth and my love for my wife. In truth, there has been a lot of tension between us all week, since the wig incident. There wasn't a lot of affection before that, but there has been no warmth at all since. She seems to be holding back, and I suppose I am doing the same.

We went out to eat late. I was fully expecting there to be accusations thrown about, but nothing developed. Just a quiet meal with polite conversation, the elephant being skillfully avoided by us both, talking of anything but that which was foremost in our minds. I am certain the dam will give way soon. When it does, I intend to discuss the Halloween party, the wig discord, and my suspicions on the existence of a breakup plan. So many things are unsaid at present, and much needs addressing.

Subtext

After months of delay, I finally surrendered to need, and took my poor wig into the shop for some professional help. It's not as if I've worn it hundreds of hours. Truth be known, it's likely not been on my head for a full week over the 2-1/2 years I've owned it. Yet, it seems to be suffering from excessive dryness, as the ends of the hairs in back are horribly tangled and ratty looking. Pam will wash and condition it, and might have to do a little surgery with the pinking shears, all in time for my meeting the first Saturday in December.

Now, a story. I went to the wig shop this afternoon. Mrs. Leslie was leaving the house at the same time to pick up a child at school. As luck would have it, we were traveling the same route. I had told her that I was going out to buy dog food (true), but then I turned left when she was expecting a right. She already had an inkling that I had something else cooking. A text exchange began.

She: Is your 2nd destination a secret destination?
Me: Kinda.

A little later, after I'd finished at the wig shop:
She: Are secrets a good thing?
Me: Depends. Took wig in for much needed work. Is that bad?

This question hung out there for about twenty minutes. I never considered this task to be a secret. I considered it something that she wouldn't care to know about. Maybe that is a false distinction? When she expressed curiosity, I only hesitated for a moment to share the nature of my trip. Maybe she thought I was doing something for her Christmas, I dunno.

After the long wait, I texted again.
Me:Hmm, no response. Is that a bad thing?
She: Driving with kids.
She (a bit later):What kind of work? How much does that cost?
Me: Shampoo, condition, maybe trim some damage. Ten or twenty dollars.

I was finishing this text as she came into the house, but I went ahead and sent it. She asked me if we were going to be that couple that texts a breakup message across the dinner table. Not sure how much truth was hiding in her little ribbing.

In the evening, we went out to dinner together (I'm on vacation this week). I expected the third degree. All I got was a short exchange. She thought I should wash and set it myself. I countered with the fact that I have no safe place to let it dry after washing it, as it can take a few days. She said the garage is available. Not entirely safe, I said, and I don't have the proper equipment or experience anyway. We left it there, but it may come up again.

I like to think that she has come to understand that there is some maintenance and expense involved in my "hobby". Today makes me wonder if that bridge still hasn't been crossed. This is not a terribly expensive project, I have put it off for months, and I tried to keep her out of the loop and in her comfort zone. I'm still unsure what long-term consequences might come of it, or if this will open the door to bubbling criticisms that were being left unsaid.

I really need to start working on those timelines.