Enchanting Elegance: A Captivating Ensemble

She wore an off-the-shoulder black and gray horizontal striped mini dress that radiated playful sophistication. The bold horizontal stripes created a striking visual contrast, enhancing her curves and drawing the eye. The seamless alternation of black and gray bands embodied a modern aesthetic that perfectly complemented her figure. The off-the-shoulder design exuded a flirtatious charm, gracefully showcasing her shoulders and collarbone, adding a touch of elegance to the daring mini length.

Her ensemble was completed with cute velvety Mary Jane heels, their luxurious texture adding an extra layer of refinement. The five-inch stiletto heels elevated her look, lending her an air of poised confidence. The modernistic dual Mary Jane straps, paired with a sleek, rounded toe, introduced a sweet, girlish charm that balanced the boldness of the stiletto height. Sheer black hosiery added a layer of allure, subtly highlighting the contours of her legs and providing a sophisticated touch to her outfit.

Together, the mini dress, velvety Mary Jane stiletto heels, and sheer black hosiery created a look that was irresistibly chic and delightfully enchanting, making her feel confident and beautiful with every step she took.

The Boss is Here

Confidence clicked with every stride as Veronica walked into the office. Her pleated pinstriped skirt swished with every step, the tailored fabric whispering promises of both femininity and authority. She wore a crisp white blouse that contrasted sharply against the dark lines of her suit, accentuating her polished appearance. The classic blazer she wore was unbuttoned just enough to highlight her feminine curves, hinting at the hidden strength beneath its sharp, structured lines. Each element of her attire, from the tailored skirt to the immaculate blouse and perfectly fitting blazer, worked in harmony to create a look that was both professional and commanding. Her ensemble was finished with a pair of killer heels that clacked a powerful, confident rhythm against the polished office floor, each step echoing with purpose. It was clear to everyone in the room: Veronica wasn't here to play; she was here to dominate, to lead, and to make her mark.

Ready to Conquer the Night!!!

The silky fabric of the dress slid over my skin, cool against the anticipation that buzzed in the air. I zipped it up slowly, the smooth glide mirroring the growing confidence in my reflection. The dress itself was a masterpiece that hugged my curves in all the right places. It felt like a secret whispered just for me.

Next came the shoes. Teetering on tiptoe, I wrestled the heels on, the sharp click of each one against the floor a declaration. Suddenly, the world tilted a little, my posture straightening, my stride lengthening. I wasn't just walking anymore, I was gliding, a runway model posing for the camera.

With each step of this transformation, a veil lifted. The worries of the day faded, replaced by a giddy excitement. I ran a hand through my hair, the once-mundane act now imbued with a touch of ritual. In that dress, in those heels, I wasn't just myself - I was a bolder, more glamorous version, ready to conquer the night.

The Good Hurt - Reimagined

 A week has passed since my euphoric Veronica Weekend and the subtle remnants of pain from wearing stilettos all weekend act as a reminder of the experience. It reminded me of a blog post from years ago I titled "The Good Hurt."

A friend helped me rewrite it in a beautiful and poetic perspective. I hope you like the rewrite:
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In the realm of existence, I am but a fleeting apparition—a part-time Crossdresser, embodying my feminine alter ego, Veronica, for a mere fraction of my days, approximately 1%, more or less. It is a sporadic indulgence, reserved for those rare moments when the allure of feminine attire beckons irresistibly. Yet, in the ethereal expanse of thought and identity, Veronica reigns supreme, particularly when I traverse the digital landscapes of social media, where her presence is most fervently felt.

There are occasions when I cloak myself in femininity within the confines of solitude, while other, more extraordinary times call for a grand spectacle—a complete transformation, complete with intricate makeup and the company of cherished friends. Weeks, even months, may pass without so much as a whisper of satin and lace, yet the desire to don such garments remains an ever-present undercurrent, an insatiable craving that defies quantification. To assign a numerical value would be futile, for this longing ebbs and flows with the rhythm of each passing day, a tempestuous dance of desire and restraint familiar to any Crossdresser.

Immersed in the anticipation of an impending soirée, one can scarcely contain the burgeoning excitement that consumes the hours preceding such an event. Sleep, elusive and capricious, is stolen away by thoughts of makeup, attire, footwear, and accessories—all meticulously curated for the forthcoming revelry. For we, as women, do not merely adorn ourselves for personal satisfaction; rather, we adorn ourselves to command attention, to be measured and admired by our peers in the transgender community.

Each Crossdresser, a maestro of their own aesthetic symphony, orchestrates a unique tableau of feminine expression. In my case, a profound adoration for stiletto heels reigns supreme, for they embody the quintessence of femininity—a delicate balance of form and function. These slender pillars of allure, with their sinuous lines tracing the contours of calves and thighs, bestow upon the wearer a graceful poise, an effortless sway of the hips reminiscent of a siren's call. To the countless tutorials on heel-walking, I owe a debt of gratitude, for they have been my guiding stars on this transformative journey.

At last, the appointed hour arrives, heralding a crescendo of preparation and anticipation. Makeup meticulously applied, we gaze upon our reflections with an acute awareness of the subtle deceptions of mirrors, echoing Cher's timeless wisdom from "Clueless." With each step, the rhythmic cadence of our heels upon the pavement becomes a symphony of empowerment, a testament to our newfound liberation. And in those fleeting moments of camaraderie, amidst the laughter and camaraderie of kindred spirits, the specter of apprehension fades into obscurity, replaced by an overwhelming sense of belonging.

In the tapestry of my own evolution, I find solace in the nurturing embrace of cherished confidantes— (you know who you are) —whose unwavering support has served as a beacon of light in the darkness of self-doubt. No longer bound by the shackles of discomfort, I have shed the cumbersome trappings of insecurity, emerging as a butterfly from its chrysalis, both psychologically and physically transformed.

Alas, the night must inevitably yield to the dawning light of day, ushering in the return to the mundane responsibilities of husband, father, and provider. Yet, the ephemeral ecstasy of the evening lingers, sustained by two enduring pillars: the trove of captured memories awaiting digital commemoration, and the bittersweet ache that accompanies the aftermath—the "good hurt" of cramped limbs and blistered soles, a poignant reminder that beauty, in its purest form, demands sacrifice. For in the immortal words of countless muses past, "beauty is pain," and indeed, the allure of feminine footwear stands as a testament to this eternal truth. Do you not concur?

Inspiration...not copycatting!

It hits you like a bolt of creative lightning. You see a woman on the street, a model in a magazine, and suddenly the world goes still. It's not just the outfit itself; it's the way the emerald blouse drapes over her shoulders, the nonchalant allure that an oversized floppy sun hat adds, the symphony of textures – a chunky knit layered over a flowing skirt. A whirlwind of emotions swirls inside you: wonder at the ingenuity, a thrill of inspiration, and a flicker of envy, quickly eclipsed by a burning desire to make it your own.

This isn't mere copycatting; it's a spark igniting your own fashion flame. You see yourself in that outfit, a different version, perhaps bolder, perhaps more whimsical. It's a chance to rewrite your sartorial story, and the possibilities thrum with excitement. A mental shopping list forms, a treasure hunt for pieces to translate that inspiration into reality. It's more than just acquiring clothes; it's about capturing a feeling, a newfound confidence, a way of carrying yourself that the outfit embodies. The journey from inspiration to creation becomes a delightful dance, a testament to the transformative power of fashion.

All this happened to me this past weekend.

Picture this: a figure-hugging mini dress that shows off your curves, paired with comfy running shoes for a surprising twist. The dress could be a simple black number that lets your colorful sneakers take center stage, or it could be a bold patterned dress balanced by sleek, low-top runners. It's a cool, unexpected mix of sporty and sexy, perfect for a day out that's both stylish and comfy.

The newsprint dress, a siren song of curves, clung to my every form. Yet, a rebellious spirit whispered defiance. Today, it wouldn't dance with stilettos, but with the fleet-footed freedom of running shoes. A pilgrimage to the store I embarked upon, a quest not for jewels, but for the perfect pair of athletic wings. Thus, the very dress that earlier whispered elegance, now thrummed with a pulse of the unexpected. A testament, not to the power of the garment, but to the woman who breathes life into it, transforming the simple into a symphony of contrasting styles. This dress, a chameleon of possibility, waits for my next whim, its true beauty unveiled not by its form, but by the spirit it adorns.

A Much overdue "Me Time"

Stepping out into the world, adorned in the fabric of another gender, carries a potent blend of exhilaration and trepidation. For the crossdresser emerging into public after a hiatus, each step is a symphony of emotions, a delicate dance between liberation and vulnerability.

As they traverse the threshold of their sanctuary, the familiar walls of their private cocoon, they shed the cloak of inhibition, revealing the essence of their true self. The anticipation mounts with each carefully chosen garment, each subtle adjustment to their appearance a brushstroke on the canvas of their identity.

Emerging into the daylight, they are met with a cacophony of sensations: the gentle rustle of fabric against skin, the whispers of uncertainty mingling with the pulsating rhythm of their heartbeat. Every gaze becomes a potential judgment, every passerby a jury assessing the authenticity of their expression.

Yet amidst the uncertainty, there is an undeniable thrill in the act of defiance, a rebellion against the confines of societal norms. With each glance, each admiring gaze or puzzled stare, they reclaim a piece of their autonomy, asserting their right to exist unapologetically.

The streets become their runway, the world their stage, as they navigate the delicate balance between visibility and invisibility. Each interaction, no matter how fleeting, becomes a validation of their existence, a reminder that they are more than the sum of their parts.

And as the day draws to a close, they retreat once more into the safety of their sanctuary, their spirit buoyed by the knowledge that they have dared to defy convention, even if only for a moment. For the crossdresser, stepping out into the world is not just an act of self-expression, but a triumph of courage, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit in the face of adversity.

Unbuttoning the Binary: A Heterosexual Man in a Dress

 

For the most part, "straight guy" felt like a complete description. I like women, enjoy traditionally masculine pursuits, and I didn't question my gender identity. Then came my pre-teen years and also came the dresses. It started subtly, a borrowed pair of Mary Janes here, a pair of pantyhose there. But the feeling of wearing something typically associated with femininity sparked a joy I couldn't ignore. The emergence of the Internet helped me solidify i me that it wasn't about wanting to be a woman; it was about the freedom of expressing myself beyond the confines of masculinity.

Society often presents sexuality and gender expression as a binary choice. You're either a heterosexual man who wears jeans and watches sports, or you're something else entirely. But the reality is far more nuanced. My love for women and enjoyment of traditionally masculine things remain true. Yet, the way I express myself can be fluid. A fitted dress can make me feel confident and playful, a feeling a pair of jeans just can't replicate.

This journey of self-discovery has challenged societal expectations. Some might find it confusing: "How can you be straight if you wear dresses?" The truth is, my sexuality isn't contingent on my clothes. It's about who I'm attracted to, not what I wear. Crossdressing isn't about rejecting masculinity; it's about embracing the full spectrum of human expression. It's about defying the notion that masculinity is defined by a rigid set of rules.

Being your true self isn't about fitting neatly into a box. It's about embracing all the facets that make you unique. For me, that includes being a heterosexual man who also loves to wear a dress. It's about shattering the binary and claiming the freedom to express myself authentically, in jeans or a flowing skirt, without compromising who I am at my core.

Reciprocation

I want to extend a heartfelt apology to all the incredible individuals who have been actively engaging with my social media posts. Your unwavering support and loyalty haven't gone unnoticed, and I'm truly grateful for every like, comment, and share. However, I've come to realize that I haven't been reciprocating the attention and interaction you deserve. I try to like or love every comment, but I know that is just not the same as writing a few words in response to you.

Life's demands and unforeseen challenges sometimes lead me to inadvertently neglect this vital aspect of our online connection. I understand the importance of acknowledging your contributions and fostering a sense of community. I value each one of you, and I'm genuinely sorry for not being as responsive as I should be.

Moving forward, I'm committed to making a positive change. I recognize the significance of our digital community and the relationships we've built. I want to assure you that I will strive to be more present, responsive, and appreciative of the support you consistently extend. Your involvement adds immense value to the content I share, and I want to ensure that our interactions remain meaningful.

Thank you for your understanding and patience. Your dedication means everything to me, and I'm eager to enhance our online connection by being more actively engaged. Here's to fostering a stronger and more interactive community together.

 

The Ecstasy of Escapism

Crossdressing, a captivating journey into self-expression, offers an exhilarating and ecstatic escape from the confines of conventional identity. Stepping into a different gender's attire, one dives into a realm of newfound understanding and empowerment. The rustle of fabric against the skin becomes a symphony of liberation, a celebration of authenticity. In the act of crossdressing, there's an electric thrill that surges through the soul. It's a dance with duality, a fusion of the familiar and the unexplored. The mirror becomes a portal to another facet of oneself, a secret garden of exploration. Adorned in garments traditionally outside one's gender, confidence blossoms like a wildflower, untouched by societal norms. The exhilaration lies in the unveiling of hidden layers, a revelation that boundaries are self-imposed. Crossdressing is a declaration of ownership over one's body and its adornments, a proclamation that identity can't be contained within lines drawn by others. In those moments, adrenaline courses through veins, heartbeats quicken, and a radiant smile blooms. The thrill of crossing the threshold of societal expectations opens the door to a world where the only limitations are the edges of imagination. Crossdressing, like a daring leap into the unknown, beckons with the promise of self-discovery, freedom, and an intoxicating exhilaration that defies definition.

The Red Pill vs Blue Pill Dilemma

I have been recently asked by a friend, "If you could choose to always dress as a woman and just live your life that way and not suffer any consequences or to remain a crossdresser which would you choose?"  Well, if this isn't a prime example of the Red/Blue pill choice faced by many a crossdresser, then I don't know what is.

My response to her was that it's not a simple answer and that I'd have to develop my response and post it to my blog because the answer to that question has been somewhat fluid over the years, and the reason for the varying levels of fluidity stems from my generational status as a member of Generation-X.  I grew up in the pre-Internet era when information did just that, it informed us of something that has happened or has been discovered and that was it.  We were still left to map out our own unique paths based on the thrill of discovery.  Today, information from the Internet and social media drives and shapes the lives, perceptions and attitudes of our younger generation from a very young age by way of influence that can only be likened to peer pressure on steroids.  Seemingly gone are the days where our lives are cultivated by our parents and family in the home.  The Internet is raising our young.

Because of this, I and many others in my generation, had very little in terms of concrete guidance or samples of comparison when it came to our gender identity.  As a child, I knew I had a compulsion to put on pantyhose belonging to my mother or other adults living in my home and I didn't know why or what compelled me to do so. All I knew was that it made me feel good.  I often wondered if I was gay, but I never had the compulsion to interact with another male that way.  I admired the girls and women around me and of course their sense of fashion.  The difference is that instead of driving me to desire them, it drove me to desire the outfits for myself.  So being gay was out of the equation.  So then what was it that I had?  What was I?  Was I mentally ill?  Books could only offer so much and were limited to cases of transsexualism, as it was called in the 80's.  So I began to wonder if that was me.  Was I born in the wrong body?  Did I yearn to be a woman instead of a male?  I remember fantasizing about waking up as a woman or what I'd do if I got locked in a department store overnight.  Oh the fun I'd have in the pantyhose and shoe department.  

  

As you can see, I spent years wondering if I would rather be a woman.  However, as the "age of information" bloomed and exploded around us, information was now at my fingertips where I could read and learn about others like me as well as those with different outlooks regarding their gender identity.  I understand that many are not into labels, but they definitely helped me to gain a better understanding of my place.  I learned that this is not a condition or an illness.  I learned that it is far from the binary classifications of the pre-Internet era.  I came to understand the subtle differences between my desires and those of other "gals" who also grew up with varying degrees of understanding of their gender identity.   

Honestly books can be written about individual journeys and each one would be different while still depicting many similarities in life experiences.  Mine is no different.  I won't lie to you when I say that I sometimes still wonder about what my life would be as a full-time woman since I gain such joy and satisfaction from the times when I get to let Veronica out in her full glory.  However, over time, I have also come to realize that I draw the level of euphoria because of the transformation I see in the mirror and in my pictures.  As a full-time woman, that would no longer be the case.  I love the feeling of putting on a sexy dress, pantyhose, a swimsuit, heels and showing off in front of the camera then posting pics for my followers to see and enjoy along with my own enjoyment.  I don't find the 2-hour experience of putting on makeup very appealing to cover up my masculine features.  I joke that I wish I had the superpower of shapeshifting so I could just snap my fingers and instantly be sexy Veronica without all the tedious preparations.  It's not that I'm lazy, it's just that I've discovered that it's the transformation that I love.  I have come to understand what my journey is.  So, to put this dilemma to rest, how about I choose the purple pill?  That would be the pill that instantly changes me into my vision of Veronica for 6 or 8 hours at a time.  Of course, I'd love to have an unlimited supply of the pills.  

Thank you for reading my next blog entry.  Luv you all.  Kisses.

xoxox

-Vero

 

Making up for Lost Time

In my more mature years, I've been building the courage to express Veronica in more ways than ever before. I wonder how many of us have that sentiment of "why didn't I start sooner?" Now I am slowly yet surely expressing more bold choices. Why? Well maybe because they are things Veronica didn't get to do since Veronica did not have her younger years in which to express them.   I truly enjoy the comments of praise and encouragement I get on my posts.  I mean, what gal doesn't like to be compimented on her looks.  It validates the effort she takes to present herself.

To some, I may seem I'm a glutton for attention, but it's not just that.  LOL.  They give me strength and confidence in embracing Veronica as an extension of who I am and not just a hobby or figment of my imagination.  Your compliments further my own personal growth and development so I can cherish the joy of being Veronica while I still have the time, or the desire.  Veronica's time will come to an end...eventually. I hope it comes later rather than sooner, but only fate will tell.

The photo below represents a FIRST for me.  I wanted to channel Vivian Ward (a.k.a. Pretty Woman), sans the tie.  I think I came pretty close.  I posted it to my OnlyFans page first since I promised my fans first look at all my new stuff...for at least two weeks.  But...since I only have like 3 active fans, it seemed ok to let y'all see it here.  I have never, nor will I ever, post nude pornography, but as I said, my stronger self-esteem gives me the desire to at least post a strong tease.  This is one such example.  

I will admit, I've never felt so vulnerable, even if I was in an empty house with a bluetooth shutter release for my camera.  But at the same time, seeing the end result is so empowering and makes me so eager to know what you all will think about it.  You may be coming here from a link at Facebook, so I hope you'll return to the post to express your thoughts.

Have a blessed day.

xoxox

-Vero

Like it or not, this is MY journey

I posted this rant to social media a while back and thought it would make a good entry to my blog.

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I wonder how many will read this entire post...

I am a crossdresser.  How many of you think you know what that means? 

 

Dictionary.com defines a crossdresser as "a non-transgender person who dresses in clothing typically worn by members of a different sex."  

Merriam-Webster defines crossdressing as "The wearing of clothes designed for the opposite sex."  

Cambridge Dictionary defines a crossdresser as "a person who sometimes wears clothes usually associated with the opposite sex, as a form of self-expression; usually a heterosexual ( not gay) man who sometimes wears women's clothes, make-up, jewelry, etc."  

I am a heterosexual male who is married to an amazing woman who knows and accepts my feminine side.  I have been crossdressing since I was probably 5 years old or even earlier and I am less than a year from being a half-century old as of the date of this writing.  It has taken me much anguish, research and self-discovery to understand, accept and most importantly, embrace who and what I am.  

I have come to also learn that no two crossdressers are alike in their ideals of being a crossdresser.  I did it early on as a fetish for nylons and pantyhose and later heels; that later, thanks to the Internet, evolved into my own form of self-expression and took on a persona I named Toni Richards.  In 2013, Toni had grown as much as she could and came out of her cocoon as Veronica Mendes.  

I crossdress now because it makes me feel good.  It helps me relax and relieve life's stresses.  I go full transformation with full makeup maybe a handful of times per year to enjoy a night out with friends or to snap some nice photos for my online presence.  I dress much more often without bothering with the full makeup and that is also OK with me.  In reality, I rather dislike the hour-long process of applying makeup to hide the man in favor of the woman who is Veronica.  I actually much more enjoy the final product of seeing myself as a pretty woman in the mirror and in photos.  If I could snap my fingers and just appear all made up I'd be in heaven.  That's why I always tell my friends that my ideal super power would be shape-shifting...LOL.    

That same dislike and lack of patience in doing full makeup also sees me often just do a light foundation, lips and maybe some eye makeup, because the wonders of technology have given us the ability to digitally clean up our photos.  

Yes, I am admitting to digitally enhancing some of my photos to varying extents.  I know what some of you are thinking right about now, so save it. Your criticisms won't change will only bea waste of time.  Don't profess to deny that all celebrities have their pictures digitally enhanced for print publications.  I am a man with manly features and blemishes and those are extremely difficult to hide with less than professional makeup skills, so to make me feel even better, the technological world of software development has given us a plethora of choices.  If there was not a huge demand for such actions, why then are there countless applications for computers and mobile apps for such tasks?  The millenials call them filters.

I don't always have the time or inclination to do full makeup when I wish to flaunt a new outfit and take pics, so what is wrong with me taking a picture of myself all made up from a past photo shoot and overlaying it on top of my own picture?  That is not deceiving. I am not professing to be what I am not, it's my own face on my own photo.  If I do have a deceiving photo, I am always upfront about it by hash-tagging it (another millennial term) with my #VirtualVeronica tag.  I do these photos, like many others also do, to satisfy my own "what if..." feelings.  It's my own digital fantasy. What's wrong with that?  Again, it makes me feel good and gives me inspiration and goals to aspire towards.

In my digital travels through cyberspace, I have been witness, and also victim, to many "trans" women who dismiss my efforts and demand that I just be "the real me" in my pics.  Well, let's see about that for a minute, shall we?  Be the "real me," you say?  Well, "the real me" is a 49-year old, slightly overweight Latino, heterosexual male with a wife, two children, one with special needs, a full time job, a second job helping the wife with her home-based business and all the related stresses of everyday life.  Please believe and, try to understand, that I crossdress, and even help out my image, digitally when needed, so that I can be far far away from "the real me."  I wish to be someone else other than "the real me." That is why I crossdress the way I do.

Every crossdresser, transvestite, transgender, gender-fluid, and countless other social labels has their own unique journey and nobody has the right to dismiss, breakdown, insult, criticize or demand they do it differently just because their journey does not align with their own ideals.  That's just shallow, sanctimonious and hypocritical.  You may not agree with somebody's form of expression, but we are all unique individuals and have a right to our own self-expression.

My final point on this rant is for a few others out there, you know who you are.  I am a crossdresser.  Being a crossdresser does not make me a pervert and I am not a crossdresser because I want to be performative.  A pervert is not a pervert because he is a crossdresser.  It is incredibly hypocritical of some to make blanket statement like "all CDs are just sex-crazed perverts" or similar remarks.  Please have some tact and be mindful of your words.

Thank you all for letting me vent.  I'll stop now.  My bitchiness has subsided thanks to writing all this down.  Have a blessed day.  Much love...Vero.

A Perpetual Puzzle

 

Have you ever built a jigsaw puzzle?  What was the biggest one you did?  You look at those hundreds, or thousands, of tiny little odd-shaped pieces.  Then you put them together in just the right order and take a step back to reveal "the big picture".  

I'm approaching an age milestone of 50 in a couple of months and I feel compelled to look back at the pieces of the puzzle of my life and determine if I like my "big picture".  

Am I happy with the current end result?  Could I have done it better?  What's missing?  

If my wisdom and experiences have taught me anything, it's that time travel doesn't exist and getting caught up in would-have, could-have and should-have scenarios will yield me absolute nothing but regret.  

The pieces that make our lives are all different. Every decision we make created another piece of the puzzle. Some are smoothe, some are not so smoothe and others are downright jagged.  Yet they all fit together somehow.  We are the product of our puzzle pieces, both the good and the bad. They are what make us the unique individuals we are.

I thought about sharing some of my puzzle pieces with the digital world as a form of my memoirs.  I hope you like it and will come back to read about my next pieces as I write about them.

_____________________________________________

The seed from which Veronica sprouted from was planted by none other than my mother when i was as young as two years old.  She made it known that she really wanted a daughter, but she got me instead.

That didn't stop her from growing out my hair, as was common in the 70's, and even dressing me in clothing meant for girls as a toddler because she thought I looked so cute.  Later, she put me in thick opaque tights under my pants so "I would not be cold" well into my first years in school.  I didn't think anything of it. After all, I was only five years old and she was my loving mom who would not do anything to hurt me, her son.

After kindergarten, the tights and long hair were gone, but the seed had been planted.  Of course I could not have known it then.  All I knew is that I was inexplicably drawn to my mom's strappy flat sandals and Mary Jane flats.  I just could not stop thinking about how they would look and feel on my feet.  I knew they were meant for girls but I didn't care.  I just knew I had to try them on when she was not watching.  

I cannot fully describe the rush of feelings going thru my 7-year old mind when I put on the sandals that were several sizes too big.  The feeling of the little leather straps that tightened on the skin of my feet as I pushed off to take a step then the relaxing of the straps as I planted was like nothing I could imagine.  

Then I'd hear my mom finishing up whatever she was doing so I'd quickly, but carefully place her shoes back in the closet and sneak back to my room.  

These are my earliest memories of my journey as a crossdresser.  

To be continued...

This global pandemic...

This is an informational landing page since FB and other sites often frown upon self-promotion.

How has this pandemic affected you?  Have you suffered a loss of household income?  What have you done to mitigate it?  

Something I can do to help my family during this difficult time is leverage my online popularity (if I have any, that is) and use it to offer a first and early look at all my new pics and EXCLUSIVE LOOKS at other premium pics before they go on widespread social media.  Some of these EXCLUSIVE pics will never go on free social media, even though nothing I post will EVER be porn or promiscuous, just classy risque.  All this in exchange for a small monetary token which is less than the cost of a Starbucks coffee per month.

You can see the whole picture above and the one that brought you here and more.  You'll get daily posts of new material weeks before FB, Flickr, Reddit or Instagram.  I'll even personalize pics for you and give you a shout-out for your birthday if you let me know ahead of time.  You get first private looks at anything bought for me from my Amazon wish list.

Click this link if you're interested in helping my cause.

https://bit.ly/38HHYgT

I Am a Crossdresser...Hear Me Roar!!!

I am a crossdresser.  How many of you think you know what that means? 

 
Dictionary.com defines a crossdresser as "a non-transgender person who dresses in clothing typically worn by members of a different sex."  

Merriam-Webster defines crossdressing as "The wearing of clothes designed for the opposite sex."  

Cambridge Dictionary defines a crossdresser as "a person who sometimes wears clothes usually associated with the opposite sex, as a form of self-expression; usually a heterosexual (= not gay) man who sometimes wears women's clothes, make-up, jewelry, etc."  

I am a heterosexual male who is married to an amazing woman who knows and accepts my feminine side.  I have been crossdressing since I was probably 5 years old or even earlier and I am less than a year from being a half-century old as of the date of this writing.  It has taken me much anguish, research and self-discovery to understand, accept and most importantly, embrace who and what I am.  

I have come to also learn that no two crossdressers are alike in their ideals of being a crossdresser.  I did it early on as a fetish for nylons and pantyhose and later heels; that later, thanks to the Internet, evolved into my own form of self-expression and took on a persona I named Toni Richards.  In 2013, Toni had grown as much as she could and came out of her cocoon as Veronica Mendes.  

I crossdress now because it makes me feel good.  It helps me relax and relieve life's stresses.  I go full transformation with full makeup maybe a handful of times per year to enjoy a night out with friends or to snap some nice photos for my online presence.  I dress much more often without bothering with the full makeup and that is also OK with me.  In reality, I rather dislike the hour-long process of applying makeup to hide the man in favor of the woman who is Veronica.  I actually much more enjoy the final product of seeing myself as a pretty woman in the mirror and in photos.  If I could snap my fingers and just appear all made up I'd be in heaven.  That's why I always tell my friends that my ideal super power would be shape-shifting...LOL.    

That same dislike and lack of patience in doing full makeup also sees me often just do a light foundation, lips and maybe some eye makeup, because the wonders of technology have given us the ability to digitally clean up our photos.  

Yes, I am admitting to digitally enhancing some of my photos to varying extents.  I know what some of you are thinking right about now so save it and don't waste your time judging me.  Don't profess to deny that all celebrities have their pictures digitally enhanced for print publications.  I am a man with manly features and blemishes and those are extremely difficult to hide with less than professional makeup skills, so to make me feel even better, the technological world of software development has given us a plethora of choices.  If there was not a huge demand for such actions, why then are there countless applications for computers and mobile apps for such tasks?  The millenials call them filters.


I don't always have the time or inclination to do full makeup when I wish to flaunt a new outfit and take pics, so what is wrong with me taking a picture of my face with good makeup from a past photo shoot and overlaying it on top of my own picture?  That is not deceiving...it's me either way. I am not professing to be what I am not, it's my own face on my own photo.  If I do have a deceiving photo, I am always upfront about it by hash-tagging it (another millennial term) with my #VirtualVeronica tag.  I do these photos, like many others also do, to satisfy my own "what if..." feelings.  It's my own digital fantasy. Again, what's wrong with that?  It makes me feel good and gives me inspiration and goals to aspire towards.

In my digital travels through cyberspace, I have been witness, and also victim, to many "trans" women who dismiss my efforts and demand that I just be "the real me" in my pics.  Well, let's see about that for a minute, shall we?  Be the "real me," you say?  Well, "the real me" is a 49-year old, slightly overweight Latino, heterosexual male with a wife, two children, one with special needs, a full time job, a second job helping the wife with her home-based business and all the related stresses of everyday life.  Please believe and, try to understand, that I crossdress, and even help out my image, digitally when needed, so that I can be far far away from "the real me."  I wish to be someone else other than "the real me." That is why I crossdress the way I do.  It is my unique journey and my form of artistic expression and no one has the right to judge me or demand I do things in their vision or ideal.

Every crossdresser, transvestite, transgender, gender-fluid, and countless other social labels has their own unique journey and nobody has the right to dismiss, breakdown, insult, criticize or demand they do it differently just because their journey does not align with their own ideals.  That's just shallow, sanctimonious and hypocritical.  You may not agree with somebody's form of expression, but we are all unique individuals and have a right to our own self-expression.

My final point on this rant is for a few others out there, you know who you are.  I am a crossdresser.  Being a crossdresser does not make me a pervert and I am not a crossdresser because I want to be performative.  A pervert is not a pervert because he is a crossdresser.  It is incredibly hypocritical of some to make blanket statement like "all CDs are just sex-crazed perverts" or similar remarks.  Please have some tact and be mindful of your words.

Thank you all for letting me vent.  I'll stop now.  My bitchiness has subsided thanks to writing all this down.  Have a blessed day.  Much love...Vero.

The Ride-Up

The Ride-Up. 

There is something so exhilarating about a modest hemline.  One of my favorite feelings about dressing up in a sexy dress or skirt is what I call the "Ride-Up". It's when you have a modest-length dress or skirt that rides way up when you sit and shows off a ton of leg. It feels so sexy and lets me show off one of my top assets nicely. Your thoughts are appreciated in the comments. Have a wonderful Friday my friends.

The Funk: To Dress...Or Not To Dress

I am a CD, or a cross-dresser for those who thought I just called myself an outdated optical storage disc. (Yeah, I'm a tech nerd, so what?)  Anyways, having spoken to some of my sisters from the CD T-community, I know I'm not alone in what I'm going through right now.  

Life is a roller coaster and my dressing as Veronica is no different.  I have my down-times when I do not dress up for periods of time.  As a CD, we have that luxury of choosing who we want to be at any given time, whether male, female or somewhere in between.  This is by no means a shot or meant as to disrespect other sisters of the T-Community, it just is one of the many differences between the diverse corners of our amazing T-Community.  Sometimes the break can be a month or two, yet other times the drought can be a year or more.  I spent 11 months of 2017 without indulging in the joy of being Veronica.  The reasons are plenty and I'm certain they differ from sister to sister.  

I'm currently in one of those extended "funks" going on 5 months now.  I've not let Veronica out since early January.  Could it be I'm not feeling proud of the extra 10-ish pounds I'm carrying since the holidays?  Could it be my age is beginning to catch up to me and the energy and enthusiasm levels are tapering?  Could it be we have house guests for a few months with young and very curious children and it is difficult to work in V-time?  Or could it be a combination of all the above?  Who knows.  I will come out of it sooner or later and that is all I need know to keep me excited and looking forward to Veronica's next emergence, whenever it may be. 

What brings you out of your funks?  I think I found one of those ways today.  While walking through a shopping center waiting for my oil change, I came across a Payless shoe store that is closing.  I walked into the 

nearly half-empty store to look around and what did I find?  These gorgeous Christian Siriano pumps in my size and at 70% off.  Slump or no slump I was compelled to buy them and the excitement of wearing them is enough to get me excited about finally letting Veronica out again.  

I must find a way to make that happen.  I owe it to myself and to my many friends and social media followers who are so loving, friendly and supportive and are also longing for some new content from Veronica Mendes.

Well that's my thought for today.  Here's to Veronica's emergence soon.  Have a blessed day my friends.

Stop it already...

I inhabit the crossdresser corner of the T-community, and as many wise and educated T-sisters know, we have a different, yet equally valid and legitimate connection to the T-Community. The inclusion of so many diverse components is what makes this community so broad and yet so amazing and should be the source of strength in forging a sisterhood of acceptance and understanding, regardless of which corner of this community you inhabit.  I may be spouting a pipe dream here, but I wish the hate amongst groups within this community would subside.  I believe there should NEVER be a discussion or debate regarding who is or is not "Trans enough" to stake claim to membership in this wonderful community.  Being a T-girl is about self-discovery and self-expression, regardless of what level of discovery or expression one wishes to divulge. I am so saddened every time I come across a "TG" hating on CDs and calling them just "guys in dresses," calling us detriments to your cause or other similar flames.  Let's stop the hipocrisy.  Each one of us has our own unique and personal journey and as such, should be respected by every other one of us. Each individual journey carries with it a story of discovery, struggle, hardships, emotions, failures and triumphs.  Thus, nobody has the right to downplay anyone's journey in favor of theirs.  

The Rite of Ascension

I have been recently told, at least a few times, that I am a source of inspiration to some of my FB friends.  (And I was even complimented in person by some whom I, myself, have considered celebrities in my FB circles.) I still consider myself a star-struck fan of many others whom I look up to myself.  That said, it was incredibly flattering and I could not even describe the feeling of getting such a compliment from such beauties.  Being complimented, told I'm beautiful (in person and without any enhancement filters of the web) and even getting adult beverages bought for me tells me I have now ascended to a new level and it feels surreal.

I realize that my sense of style and presentation has evolved over the years.  What started as a secret, and deeply hidden, nylon and shoe fetish has manifested itself as what you see in the person of Veronica Mendes.  How did it happen?  Like many of my fellow t-sisters, I have had my share of idols to which I have looked up to for inspiration, education, knowledge, courage and inner strength.

To name just a few (and I hope they do not take any offense to my naming them as my mentors):

• Tiffany Michelle Lloyd with her website Tiffany's Tower.  (How I miss the Tower)  
• The late and great Vicky Renee and her Prettiest of the Pretty (We miss you Vicky.)
• Dahlia Taylor
• Nina Allison
• Kelly Perry

And...My current besties who have all contributed in certain and unique ways to my evolution.

• Natasha Romanoff  
• Gina Jett
• Jennifer Kelly
• Bella Amri
• Stephanie Anne Jefferies
• Sierra Romeo
• And a special shout out to one who has inspired me (an many others) inside as much as on the outside and whom inspired me to write this blog entry...Miss Amanda Edwards

What makes each person who influences us unique?  What is it that drives us to look up to them...to learn from them...to imitate them?  Is it their fashion style, their incredible smile, their outlook on life as a t-girl, or a signature pose?  Many of us girls would like to claim we have a signature pose (or maybe more than one.)  It is a pose that, whenever you see it somewhere, you immediately think of that person.  Miss Stephanie Anne Jefferies has a huge movement in full swing with her famed "Heel Tip Grip" pose and she has graciously named me a royal ambassador of the realm.  How honoring that is.  I have a couple of signature, go-to poses such as my "up on the counter" and my "heel on the wall" poses, but I'll write about that later.

When I took this photo (below on the left,) it didn't take me but a second to see how I had to give the honor of this pose to the beautiful, classy, and sensational Amanda Edwards, in what I perceive to be one of her signature poses, because it makes me think of her photos whenever I see it.  I have always loved cross-leg photos and have especially loved the slanted cross-leg pics, which Miss Amanda has perfected.  When I saw my photo I revisited her page for more inspiration, both from her photos and more so from her words.  She is an amazing writer and writes about her experiences from the heart. Anyone reading this would be missing out if they didn't give her a visit.  Thank you Amanda for your inspiration and I truly hope to cross paths with you sometime.

Thank you to all who have helped shape who I am and will continue to shape my future.  Luv you all.

The Good Hurt

I am a part time CD, which means I spend about 1% (give or take) of my life in physical Veronica form.  That is, I only dress up in feminine attire occasionally.  I should add that mentally I spend much more time thinking as Veronica; especially when I'm on my social media sites.  Often I dress in private while other, more rare times, I go all the way with full makeup and go out with friends.  I have gone weeks and months without dressing up even partially.  It's a state of mind and desire that drives my urge to dress.   I won't put a percentage number on that because it varies from day to day.  Any CD will likely relate to my words.

This said, one can probably imagine how much anticipation builds up when a girls night out is planned and approaches.  Follow that with the nervous excitement that steals your beauty sleep the night before as you think about your makeup, your outfit, your shoes and your accessories that all must be perfect for the night out.  After all, we girls are not just dressing for ourselves, we're dressing to get noticed and perhaps even get measured by our t-girl peers.

Every CD has different likes and dislikes regarding how they dress up and present their femme selves.  I have a love of stiletto heels and thus I must wear stilettos as much as possible.  To me, stilettos represent a quintessential feminine presentation.  They create beautiful lines on the calves and thighs. They force a lovely feminine posture and make you sway your hips naturally.  I thank the many YouTube videos on how to walk in heels for my improvement over the years.

The day arrives, finally, and it's time to get dolled up and party.  We check our makeup to ensure it's perfect.  We take lots of photos to see ourselves as others see us because a mirror might deceive our senses. (Thanks Cher, from Clueless.)  We love the euphoric rush as we walk down the sidewalk to the venue and revel at the clicking of our heels on the pavement.  We nearly lose it when a breeze rushes up our skirts and caresses our legs.  We spend our time enjoying the company of friends and making new friends as we walk the venue to see and get seen by others.  The fear we once had of being clocked has long since faded as we realize that we are among friends with similar likes and we no longer worry about being clocked.  We feel wonderful being in an accepting environment.

Personally, I've been growing out of my personal fear and low self-esteem thanks to my great friends Natasha, Jennifer and Bella being like my big sisters in my public experiences in the last couple of years.  Heck, I don't even bother with those incredibly uncomfortable waist-cinchers anymore.  Being in the company of such great friends has helped me to embrace myself both psychologically as well as physically.

Sadly, the night must end and it's time to return to the 99% of my regular life as a husband, father and worker.  However, the euphoria of the night lingers long after and is further extended by two things.  First, the mountain of photos and selfies we take to sort through and post on social media and second "the good hurt."  That is, the two to three days of awkward walking and the pain associated with cramped legs as a result of a 240-lb man wearing sexy 5-inch spike-heeled stilettos for 5+ hours that just had to be part of the ensemble for the night.  After all, it has been said that beauty hurts and that shoes represent the largest part of many female wardrobes.  Who agrees?