by Laurie Jackson

Created on: March 30, 2009

Why is there a drawer full of lingerie that isn't mine? Not that I have any lingerie really, I like cotton undies and comfy bras. So why is this filmy turquoise baby doll negligee, stockings that require a garter belt, and of all things, a boned corset doing in my closet? I mulled that over as a senior in college, betrothed and living with my fiance in our Edwardian upstairs apartment where I had to walk through the closet to the bathroom and noticed this odd stuff poking out of a drawer.

Then I forgot about it-for years. After a decade and a half of marriage a pair of panties appeared in the laundry. Not the cotton kind I wear, but SOMEONE ELSES! Alarms went off in my head. An affair?

He was at work. When he came home, I hurled the offending skivvies in his face.

"Who is she?" I yelled. "How long?" I screamed. "Why?" I sobbed.

"Nobody. They're mine." I was floored, but kept pressing my case for another woman's panties in my laundry.

"Oh right." I scoffed. I knew every pair of his tidy whities, and I wasn't buying his line.

"They must have gotten mixed up with my laundry". He was looking at his shoes.

"I'll say they got mixed up. Who is she?" I was back to yelling.

"She is me." He started to well up with tears. Tears. "I like to dress up in women's clothes, wear make up, you know." He trailed off.

I didn't know. Jesus Christ, I thought, I'm married to a fag! So of course I had to blurt out: "You're a fag? All these years and you're a fag!"

"No. I like girls. That's sort of the point." He said. He is all man to look at-hairy, muscular, deep voiced, the works, not at all femme or light in his loafers. So why would he dress in lingerie? He went on, knowing he had some "splaining" to do...

"I like to look at legs and high heels, and you won't dress like that."

Of course I wouldn't dress like that. I can't walk one step in high heels because I have big flat feet, and I detest nylons and all that uncomfortable stuff pinching and creeping and itching. I like jeans and tee shirts. Dressing up for me is slacks instead of jeans, or even long skirts with leggings. No way will I wear pantie hose. They don't make them long enough and the crotch stops somewhere between my knee and where it should reach. Queen size is all pantie, which I can pull up over my head, with the stupid crotch still somewhere barely above my knees. Nobody making them believes in a 36" long leg on a 130 lb. frame.

"You look at yourself? You've got to be kidding me." Men are so reliant on the visual. I'm not one

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>