The Skeletons are Literally Coming Out of My Closet

A couple of years ago I had to move to a new apartment (an undisclosed location) since my old lease was up. Also, at the time, apartments were hard to find but I did manage to snag one, albeit, a smaller one bedroom than I had before. Despite the downsize, smaller didn’t happen to mean worse and I grew into making my new flat my little(r) comfy home. That is all except for one thing…

I didn’t have enough room for all my girly shit. So I had to force a purge of my least valued treasures collected over years and years. That purge was actually a relieving experience but not in the sense a crossdresser typically purges their stash of femme gear. In my case it just felt nice to get rid of a bunch of shit because I’d probably never touch most of it again and I don’t have to lug it around again if I have to move somewhere else. God forbid should I need to get a locker in the future if I move again.

However, as miss little me the corssdresser, I seem to have a problem of continuing to buy cute little girly things all the time. I’ll admit that this is the part of being a woman I’ve nailed down to the tee. I see something, I buy it, I try it on and it either goes somewhere never to be used again or it becomes a favorite and put in the drawer of favorites. The problem is that the same drawer has long been full so it goes to any space in another drawer, or to a closet, or just placed on my coffee table until I can figure out what to do with it.

For many a crossdresser this probably wouldn’t be an issue, just throw them in a pile in the corner. If someone asks what that pile of pink is over there just tell them “yeah, that’s my girly shit, so what?” Unfortunately for myself, I’m somewhat of a closeted crossdresser. Hey I actually peek outside of the closet here or there, or sometimes I out myself by mistake) but I prefer to be discreet and have all those little pieces of evidence of my feminine life under wraps in case people (or worse, kids) are roaming around my place which happens frequently.

I don’t mind having visitors to my humble abode for chats and a drink, just to hang around or maybe over for dinner. I also don’t care if they do happen to snoop around and ask questions about anything inside my flat. I do prefer, however, not to have the Wolford tights that I wore a couple hours earlier lying there on the floor to catch someone’s eyes. Are those yours?!

Also I should say that practically all of my visitors are not crossdressers (unlucky them). So generally I like to keep my femme wardrobe out of the public eye and, in this case of my limited space, I have to do a little magic to make it work. If you were to look closely, you might spot the bodysuits and some of my finer lingerie hidden inside and between coats in my closet. Also that weird fold up IKEA closet zipped down and with blankets flowing over it? I bet you can guess what went in there too. That’s my dedicated only womens wear “closet.”

Then the shoeboxes with manly brands like Asics and Addidas. You got it, stilettos, goes in those.

Yeah, my “skeletons” are literally flowing out of the closets at the moment and I just keep buying more cute shit for them. Anyway, my next goal in life is just to have a hidden button where a secret wall opens up to a decked out crossdressing lair. Most men would want to have one with a bar and pool table but not me. No, I’m talking wall to wall mirrors, closets full of dresses, heels and lingerie and a nice little makeup desk with the lights around the mirror and all.

Better yet, I could just completely come out of the closet to all and not even have to worry about this shit.