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| Not sure what the exact instructions are here... |
To explain what this whole thing is about I have to be really upfront and honest and confess that I do like a decent analogy. Stumbling across one provides me with a little thrill of excitement similar to that of finding a blenny hiding under a rock in a pool at low tide but at the same time I am aware that this is very much a personal guilty pleasure and that others are not quite so enamoured. With that in mind I'm going to be devoting a whole posting, albeit short, on one particular analogy that occurred to me the other day. Since then I've been playing around with it, chewing it a bit, pulling it out of shape before dropping it and going on to something more productive. Time, I think, to nail this mind-worm in the blog.
The nub of it, I think, is this - It seems to me that cross-dressers share an awful lot of characteristics with football supporters. Well, granted lots of us are football supporters but on the whole I'm thinking about their attitude to their passion and their various ways of showing it.
Most supporters are pretty passionate about their club. They develop a relationship that transcends it just being the provider of 90 minutes of 'entertainment' every week. In fact they identify with the club to such an extent that the club seems to become an extension of themselves and their sense of 'self' (and self worth). If the club does well, they feel good not only in themselves but with colleagues and friends. If their club looses they hit the dumps, sulk and feel emasculated. Face has been lost and the weekend ruined. Bottom line though, is that they both identify with and support their club
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| Fans and Trans both love a wig |
Well it seemed to me that cross-dressers have a similar relationship to women, or at the very least to the notion of femininity. I (and by arrogant extension all cross-dressers) love women. I love the way they look, move, smell, behave. On the whole I feel uplifted if I'm in the presence of women. Female dentists and doctors make the trip to the surgery worthwhile. Wives and daughters are a delight. I like looking at women (in the non-creepy way of course), chatting to them, just being around them. In fact I'm probably as star-struck being next to an attractive woman as others might be schmoozing up to Ronaldo for a selfie. In short I am fully paid up season-ticket carrying supporter of Team Fem.
Of course, like any football supporter I realise that I'll never actually play for the team, no matter how outlandish a scenario my imagination might come up with for justifying it. But I can still fantasise about the possibility. And of course, like any supporter worth their salt I'll certainly be showing my devotion by shelling out for the team shirt. Except in the case of the cross-dresser it will, of course, be a lot more than the shirt! It has to be admitted that Team Fem is not an inexpensive team to follow and we as 'supporters' tend not to lose our sense of individuality by all insisting on wearing the same colour (I mean with those shoes?), but nevertheless walking down the street there's no confusion as to where our interest lies, supporter and cross-dresser alike.
So, in conclusion if I ever need to come up with some sort of explanation or justification as to why I dress, one way might well be to frame it terms of the support, adulation and association shown by football fans. I love femininity but am fully aware that I'll never make the team and even if I can't really afford a season ticket I'll still try to make it along to a home game now and then, wearing team colours with pride. When I get home then it's all off and in the wash, ready for the next opportunity (I mean what sort of person wears their football shirt all the time?)
With luck that might frame my passion in the sort of context that the average male might comprehend, but if that fails dismally then I can always resort to the defiant cry of the Millwall crowd "No-one likes us and we don't care!"
Before legging it...
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