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ALAN'S HOSIERY

Posted 3/25/1999

Are there very many refugees here from the old L'Eggs Forum that was finally pulled in July '97 (I think)? Right before it was pulled, there was a series of posts by someone named Alan that were fantastic.

They were in parts, and described his life story as it relates to wearing pantyhose, as well as some very good insights. The trouble is, only Parts I thru III were posted, at least that I was able to read.

He either never got to post Part IV, or I missed copying it before the end. Either way, I am going to repost the first three (which I did copy), in hopes that either someone who has a copy of the fourth will repost it also, or that alan himself is out there somewhere and will do us the honor. Whether we locate the final installment or not, it is good reading. Here goes:

Wearing hose. My experiences & insights

Written by alan on Sat Jul 12 03:10:09 1997

Written to all users

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Wearing pantyhose publicly seems to be of interest in this forum. I have a few thoughts on this subject that I would like to relay. I hope this post is not too long, but after having 'lurked' since this forum became available, I have come to some conclusions. I have decided that the best format to convey my thoughts is by citing my history, and the insights I have gained throughout the years. I am now 35, and have gone though many stages in my life. If you consider wearing hose 3-5 times a week regular, then I have been doing that for 15 years.

However I have only been self-accepting of it for the past 5, and willingly open to a few close friends for the past 3-4. It is also important to note a few details first. I have tried crossdressing completely, but one thing bothers me. I am a man, and I do not want to pretend to be a woman. I have always struggled to find and be who I really am. When I find that I must put on items to try and change me from who I am, I do not like it. If I put on a dress, wig, etc. and look in a mirror I see not my own image, but an image that is foreign and false to me. Whatever I decide to wear, I do so because it feels right as a part of who I am in reality. If I look in the mirror and see myself in hose, that is what I see, me in hose.

It is no disguise, and I am not trying to be something different. Complete crossdressing for me feels as if I am trying to be something I am not. I am a guy in hose, and that's it. I have no ill feelings or condemnation for those who decide to cross dress, it is just not me.

When I was very young, 5 or 6 I guess, I tried on a pair of my mothers' panties that were in the dirty clothes bin in the bathroom. At that age, they pretty much swallowed me, but I do remember that I specifically noticed how soft the fabric was. I have always had very sensitive skin, and on more than a few occasions as a child my mother had to return clothing I deemed scratchy. Pretty much anything that was not 100% cotton, and washed many times I considered unbearable. To this day I still retain this concept. I despise wearing clothes that 'itch' or irritate me.

I don't remember if I ever tried on the panties again, but I do know that whenever I was sorting through the clothes to separate them, I would find myself admiring the softness of many of my mother's garments. The thought of actually wearing them didn't seem to be there. Then some years later, perhaps when I was around 12, I was in the attic of our house looking for something and I found a small pouch that had perhaps eight pair of pantyhose in it. I gave it no thought, but for some reason I could not forget about it.

A few days later when no one was home, I went to the attic and took a pair. I went to the bathroom and locked the door, and fumbled my way into them. I wore them for about five minutes, and then put them back. The whole experience was uneventful, except that I remember that when I was in bed that night I felt a great deal of guilt. I was convinced I had done something terribly wrong, and that by doing it I had somehow disclosed in myself a problem. I was convinced I was not normal.

About six months later, I was again home alone, and noticed a pair of my mothers exercise tights in the laundry room. For some reason I wanted to try them on.

Note: Looking back now, I don't know why I suddenly wanted to try them on. I have found through my many years that my desire to wear hose has come and gone, without any apparent reason. I have gone from one extreme to the other. There have been periods that I wear them almost 24 hours a day, and then there have been time I have gone weeks, and even months with no want or desire to wear them.

This still happens but now it only last a few days, and unlike many other times my choice not to wear hose is not based on guilt or of feeling ashamed. Now it just seems that sometimes I just don't care. I don't know why this happens, but it does.

I took the tights, put them on and noticed how different they were from the other hose I had tried. These fit better, and moreover since they were semi-shinny they looked good to me. I rummaged through the clothes baskets and found the leotard she must have been wearing. I stepped into it and knew I had to see what I looked like. I ran as fast as I could to my parent's room and stood in front of the full-length mirror.

I really liked the soft look, and they felt so comfortable. Looking back, I have concluded this was the time and event I can place as the beginning of my fascination with wearing hose. When I went to bed that night, I did not feel bad for what I had did, nor did I feel guilty as I had before. I still felt that there was something abnormal about my thoughts but I could not rid myself of them.

I spent the next few months sneaking into my mothers dresser when no one was home and trying on her exercise wear. It was at this time that I tried pantyhose again. The hose in her dresser seemed much nicer than the hose I had tried before, and I really liked them.

It was that summer that something else started to happen. I had on overwhelming desire to venture away from the safety of an empty house and have my hose show in public. I had already ventured outside wearing them, but I made sure no part of the hose could be seen.

Note: I'm not sure if this feeling is common to all of us, however I suspect it is. When we feel that something we are doing may be wrong, we need validation that it is okay. We want someone to notice the pantyhose, and either not freak out, or say it's okay. This is a normal human reaction. Once we are truly comfortable with the action or event, we do not require the validation of others.

My first forays into outside were rather humorous as seen with hindsight. I put on some pantyhose, and pants, and shoes with no socks. I then quickly walked from the front door to the back. I was absolutely convinced that anyone within viewing distance could tell I was wearing hose.

I did this a few times over a period of a couple days, and the proceeded to phase two. We had a completely fenced yard, so after gathering my courage I walked into the back yard in shorts. Nothing happened, and my experiment was concluded. Nothing really new developed until about a year later.

Constantly using my mothers hose was starting to get risky. I had accidentally run a pair, and thinking she would not notice I decided to dispose of them. I knew I had to get my own pair. A few days later I rode my bike to a grocery store that we never shopped at. I went inside and tried to find the courage to buy a pair. I remember the aisle with the hose also had greeting cards on it. I must have read every greeting card before leaving. That night I felt bad that I did not have the courage to get them, so the next day I went back. I walked past the hose a few times, and spotted the ones I wanted. Without the details I shoplifted the hose.

Note: This was really stupid. Most kids shoplift something, it seems to be a step into adulthood, our first big challenge to the rules that have been placed upon us. However, whereas most kids might steal candy, or a model, or something cool to show their friends, I stole pantyhose. I can just imagine store security calling my parents and telling them they had caught their son stealing pantyhose.

I finally had my own hose. I waited until everyone was asleep and tried them on. They were not as nice as my mothers but since the were mine, there was something special about them. The next morning I faced a real problem. I woke up early and was in the bathroom wearing them, when I heard other people awake and moving around. I found some scissors in drawers and cut the hose into small pieces and flushed them. Amazingly they went down in one flush.

Again time passed. I actually managed to buy some hose. A few times when my mother would ask me to ride over to the grocery store for something I would grab a pair and acted like they were for her.

Note: I'm sure we have all done the bit of pretending the hose were for someone else. What seems funny, is that one time my mother actually did send me to the store for some hose. She was getting dressed and her only black hose had a run so she asked me to go get a pair for her. When I mentally knew they were for her I just walked in a bought them with no hesitation, but when they were for me I always felt anxiety. Not until much later on did I recognize this, and was able to buy hose without the anxiety. I still did not mention they were for me. That came much later. However, it was my first step in associating mental perception with attitude.

The high school years were much of the same. The only difference was that I had a car, and could venture further away to buy hose. I did come to realize something though. I had my first serious girlfriend. It was one afternoon and we were at the large mall. She was in shorts and no hose. We stopped at one store and she purchased a pair and put them on in the dressing room.

I didn't say anything, but she commented that both her grandmother and mother had varicose veins, and that she wore hose to help prevent it. At some point she said that some of her classmates teased her about it, especially since she wore them during the summer. She said not to many women wear hose during the summer, and she started to point the few women she thought were wearing hose. Trying to be supportive I pointed out a few too. It was then that I realized that I was much more attuned to telling if a woman was wearing hose than she was.

Note: Is this a common phenomenon amongst men who wear hose? The women who do know I wear hose always tell me that from a few feet away no one can notice if I am wearing them. On the other hand I can tell with 98% accuracy if a woman is wearing hose from whatever distance I am away from her. I have even challenged one very close female friend with this. She thinks it uncanny.

Once high school was over things really took a change. In my second year of college I ended up with a female roommate in a two-bedroom apartment. She was the first person who ever knew about my hose.

A guy I worked with at my evening job and I got an apartment, and soon after his girlfriend moved in. She went to the same school I did, and so we car-pooled and became very good friends, but never anything more. Their relationship came to an end when he got a job offer out of state. His now ex-girlfriend expressed an interest in assuming his part of the lease and I agreed. I had never lived with a female before, and it proved interesting. It wasn't long before, one evening, she was washing her hose in the sink and hanging them on the towel rod.

I resisted the urge to try a pair, but since her night job uniform at a restaurant required her to wear hose, I was always seeing her in them. She would often come home around 9:30 and kick off her shoes and relax in front of the television, her feet up on the coffee table. With a male roommate I had very rarely worn hose, but seeing them all the time encouraged me to wear them more. I was very careful but my worst nightmare occurred. At this point I could make up some wonderful story of how she secretly noticed my hose, or that she encouraged me to try them.

No the actual truth is not very glamorous. I was wearing my hose under some very comfortable old pants I had. We were cooking dinner, and as I reached up to get something from the top pantry, my pants decided that pantyhose were a very nice, low friction surface, and they slid right down to my knees. I quickly reached down and pulled them up, but it was to late. She stood there for a second and then just asked why I was wearing pantyhose.

Note: As stated earlier, we all seem to be looking for validation. We want someone to say it's okay, but we always want it on our terms. There is a component missing from those people who say they have worn hose openly, and try and encourage others to do it. The man who is going to openly wear hose in public first must do it in a controlled environment. Maybe going to the corner convenience store when no other customers are present. My first true public experience was going into a do-nut shop at 2am after driving past it a few times to make sure no one was there but me and, of course, a female clerk. I doubt there are too many men who could put on their hose and for their first public excursion go to a crowded mall.

Well, here I was suddenly thrust into a situation I had both longed for and feared. I had often wished there was a woman I could be open with, but I had always thought it would come about in a slow process. I had thought of numerous ways to try and approach the subject, but I was not ready for this.

I hesitated for a moment and then said the only thing I could think of. I just said I liked wearing them. I walked into the den and sat down, flushed from embarrassment. We talked for what seemed an eternity. I told her that I liked the way they felt and that I had been wearing them on and off for several years. She did ask the obvious, "Am I gay?" question. She also wanted to know if I wore dresses or anything else. I told I did like wearing a leotard to relax in, but that was the extent of it.

The next few days were hell, but only in my mind. She did not mention it at all, and I did not wear my hose. She seemed to accept it but the fact that she said nothing made me very uncomfortable. I guess I was expecting her to be enthusiastic. I hoped she would talk to me about hose and maybe even buy me a pair. However those types of things only happen in fiction. This was reality. She accepted the fact that I wore hose, and treated it as such. The truth is that women do not sit around their apartment talking about their pantyhose, so I was being pretty unrealistic. This finally occurred to me when a few nights later she was washing her hose in the sink and when she was done she just asked me if I needed to wash any before she drained the sink.

Note: I think too many men expect women to be enthusiastic supporters of their hose wearing. All these posts I read about women being excited about their boyfriends hose are to be not necessarily untrue, but they are by far the exception and not the norm. The simple fact is that pantyhose are an item of everyday clothing for women. Most women just accept them as such. Most women when considering the wearing of pantyhose do not attach the various esoteric symbolism that men do. Even though I wear hose fairly regularly now I do not equate them to wearing socks or a tie. There is still something special to me about hose that women do not experience. After all how many men sit around talking about their socks. I guess the lesson here is simple. The true reaction you can expect from a woman ranges from disgust to, "it's no big deal," acceptance.

Well I'm done for now. This is by no means the end. I still have the following events.

I finally told my mother, and her reaction. My best friend was curious and gave hose a try. (This is a funny event) Showing up at what I thought was a small gathering of people who knew, and it turned out different. Getting stopped by the police at 3am in Louisiana while in shorts and white hose. (scared to death) My neighbor accidentally received by mail order hose (I acquired the catalog from her and she thought it was her order) Where I am now.

I know this post is long and perhaps rambling, but if people would be interested I will post the rest. Regardless I am going to compose it because it seems therapeutic to finally say all of this. I just hope it is of value and interest to others.

Here is installment number two:

Wearing Hose. Experiences & Insights II

Written by alan on Sat Jul 12 17:08:47 1997 ____________________________________

Where we are:

My female roommate now is aware of the fact that I wear hose. She has no objection, nor does she show any positive feelings. She just treats it like it is another piece of clothing that she has worn for years.

This was one of the most liberating times of my life. I could just roam around the house in hose and nothing was said either positive or negative. She would occasionally point out runs, or ask me about brands, but rarely was the actual topic of me as a man wearing hose a concern.

Note: As with most men who wear hose, I often associated the hose with 'self-gratification', and maybe this is one reason I tied guilt to them. After all, how could I even try and claim that wearing hose was a normal thing, if it often led, and was indeed a part of my sexual identity as I grew up. I am very thankful for this time in my life. It allowed me to recognize, identify, and understand the sexual/erotic aspect of hose wearing.

I would like to say it allowed me to control the sexual aspect, but as I said earlier, any guy on this forum must admit they have something stronger than just a basic clothing attitude towards hose. Come on, let's be honest! How many of us have tried to find a jockey short forum? This is also the reason there are not a lot of women on this forum. Most women just don't feel the urge to discuss at long lengths their feelings about an item of clothing.

It took me a month or so to get over most of the apprehension I was still feeling. After all, this is the first time I had worn pantyhose openly knowing someone would see them. I had this gut feeling that there existed some line of tolerance that I could not cross. I did not wear black hose for a few weeks, fearing that the obviousness of them was too much. I still felt that maybe she was just tolerating it, and I would push the envelope too far. It never happened.

Up until this point, I had not really cared about the shade of hose I wore. Since they were usually hidden under pants, I bought whatever was available or on sale. Now that I was wearing them openly I started to notice the shade. Our apartment had a mirrored wall in the den, and soon I started taking notice of the colors. I had some light blue shorts that really looked good with white hose, but my tan shorts looked best with suntan.

I started to make an effort to color coordinate, and I did ask for her suggestions in this area. She gave me a few fashion do's and don'ts and left it at that. She did point out one time she sometimes noticed the bottom of the panty section showing and suggested I get longer shorts or sheer to waist. That was about the extent of her involvement. It was at this point also that I decided to shave my legs for the first time. It is true, the hose take on a whole new feeling, but so does your life. The first time she saw me in hose with shaved legs she actually did make a comment. She just said she had wondered how long it was going to be before I shaved them. We did talk for a long time that night.

Note: By shaving my legs I had somehow moved into another realm. I was actually making possibly noticeable changes to my appearance to accommodate the hose. I had not thought of that. I knew the problem inherent with disguising shaved legs, but I had never considered the psychological ramifications. Indeed I had taken a big step. I was accepting that what I experienced from hose was important enough to me that I was willing to at least temporarily alter a part of my physical being from what is considered masculine, to feminine.

It is also important to note that my main reason for shaving my legs was for looks. The added comfort was second. I was really starting to like the look of being in hose, and if I was going to wear them, then they needed to look good.

We lived together for about another 6 months, and then she changed majors and colleges. I also changed schools and enrolled in a smaller college that had a much better business school. Due to the high tuition I was forced to move home. This was not a problem with my parents. At first things were okay. My classes were in the very early mornings, and I worked in the afternoon.

I had let the hair grow back on my legs, and wearing hose was almost non-existent. I finally started to get a chance, when the next semester classes started in the afternoon. I was alone at home, and could put on my hose and leotard and relax. Things were going fine until my mom's company was merged and she was 'outplaced'. Now she was home all day. At first I didn't mind, but hiding my hose wearing became more and more distressing. I had been so free before and now it really bothered me that I was repressed again. I knew deep down I was not doing anything wrong, but something about parents makes you feel you must be the ideal child.

I knew the reaction from my mother would be one of, "What had she done wrong?" I tried very hard to deal with this, but finally one day I just could not deal with hiding any more. I simply walked up to my mother and told her there was something she needed to be aware of. I explained that I wore pantyhose, and answered her questions. When it was done she seemed okay with it. Her only caveat was that she did not want this to go beyond her and me. She especially did not want me to tell my father. I agreed, but problems arose almost immediately.

That evening when I came home she followed me into my room and told me she went to see a counselor. As with most counselors on these issues their opinion is pure regurgitation of what they think the patient wants to hear. He told her that as a child someone must have told me how good I would look in hose, or dressed as a little girl and that this idea at a young age got stuck in my mind. I could not convince her that he was wrong. She tried to act accepting, but as mothers do she always found a place to take a shot at the hose. Comments such as, "It's awfully hot out to wear hose. Your fetish must be stronger than I thought." I was also having problems in one class.

Even though I was doing great in four classes, she decided to tell me the reason I was doing poorly in one class was that the hose were obviously diverting my attention. I had finally had enough and when the semester ended, I moved out. About two weeks after moving my mother left a message on my machine saying she had no problem with my hose, but if I wanted to get counseling, she would help pay for it.

Note: This seems to be the reaction many people have to something they either don't understand, or don't want to understand. They will feign acceptance, and explain that unlike most people, they are okay with it. Then they will tell you that they realize that most people are not as understanding as they are, so they want to help you. In the end they are the ones with the problem.

In most cases I can just ignore these people. But your parents are a different matter. It's been many years since these events, but I still know that when my mother looks at me, she no longer sees her ideal image of a son, but instead in some small way she sees the hose.

It took me two years to finish college. It was a very bizarre time. This was the first truly single apartment I ever had. It was not until I moved in that I started feeling trapped. In my last apartment, I was free to roam in hose, and have someone there to at least acknowledge them.

Now I was just roaming my apartment alone. I thought I had gotten over the stage of wanting recognition, but I soon realized that was not true. I had not come out of the closet, only moved into a bigger one. The following events are probably not unique to me, but to this day I still can't figure some of them out. I was almost pathetic in my attempts to somehow get people to acknowledge the fact that I was wearing hose.

I started by getting the phone book out and calling the hosiery department of stores. At first I told them I had lost a bet with my wife and had to wear hose for a week, and what could they recommend. This worked for a while, but then nothing. Next came actually calling and saying I needed some pantyhose, this is my height, and what do you recommend. Following this came my excursions to the stores.

I would call and talk to a clerk and then go in and buy some hose. I did not have the courage to wear shorts, but I did admit they were for me. The final department store stage came when I walked into one in some shorts and hose and started looking for some to buy. The sales clerk helped me but usually did not say a thing.

I was very disappointed, but something happened. Every now and then, I will get an uncontrollable urge to exclaim, "Here I am, and these are my pantyhose." All logic and fear seems to be thrown to the wind. The first such occurrence was one night when I put on some jet-black hose and walked right into that store and straight to the hosiery section.

I bought a few pair of hose and even asked if I could go ahead and change into a pair in the dressing room. Later that evening I realized what I had done, and could not believe it. I was barely past the stage of wearing nude hose at 2am and going to get the mail.

Note: Life does indeed seem to have a balance, a ying and yang. The more I felt repressed and closed in, the more daring and sometimes reckless my sudden outbursts of expression were.

A few other notable things occurred as well. My apartment was literally across the street from an aerobics studio. One evening I called them and asked if men could participate, and if I could come by and see the facilities. I told her I was currently doing aerobics with my girlfriend and some of her friends, and we were looking to join.

I asked for directions, and explained that I had just finished a workout and needed to drop my girlfriend home and I would be there by nine. The place closed at nine, and the last class ended around 8:30. I watched from my window until it seemed fairly empty, then I drove over.

I had put on my basic black leotard and some off black hose. I was hoping she might ask me about wearing hose instead of tights. I sat in my car for a few minutes, then quickly entered. Her only reaction was to acknowledge me as the guy who must have just called and was leaving his exercise class. We discussed the enrollment options and looked over the facility. It was basically a large carpeted room. I finally asked her if it was okay if I wore an outfit like I was wearing to the class.

She said a lot of guys wear them. I knew that was a lie, because I could see the studio from my window, and never once saw a guy in a leotard. I told her I would talk it over with my girlfriend and let her know. She gave me a coupon good for one free lesson at any of their facilities, and I left. When I got home I was very disappointed. I almost threw the coupon away, but decided to maybe use it. Two nights later I was ready to go to the free lesson when I realized that this studio was so close that many of my neighbors might be there. Instead I went to a studio a few miles away.

I wore the same leotard and some shiny tan tights. I did wear a warm up suit over them. As the lesson started I gained some confidence, and after about ten minutes I removed the jacket. I got a few stares, but no one said anything. I then removed the pants and continued in my leotard and tights. The class went fairly well, and not until it was over did I see some of the women whispering to each other. The instructor took me aside, as she is required to do, and gave me the sales pitch. It was a fairly high-pressure pitch.

She complimented me on my workout and said she really thought it was great that I wore a leotard, but that I might cause some of the women to feel uncomfortable, so at a later date I might be asked to stop wearing it. She said that she has seen the daytime talk shows, and understands if I want to wear dresses and look like a woman, but if I joined I would need to come as I did tonight. I could not come in a dress or anything else like that and change. I thanked her and left.

Note: I am very disappointed in the media. With all the daytime talk shows, and their constant struggle to find topics, it seems at least one time they would do an actual portrayal of men who wear feminine clothing without trying to dress as a woman. The only thing you ever see are the drag queens, transsexuals, she-males, and the occasional female impersonator.

Is it any wonder that the first reaction people have is, "Are you gay?," or "Do you want to become a woman?"

There is just nothing controversial enough about being on a panel of men who still dress and appear as men, but wear certain items of women's clothing. For once I would like to see the businessman who wears lingerie under his suit, or the man who wears pantyhose, or the guy who goes with his wife to aerobics in a leotard.

Sometimes I think it would be easier to go somewhere fully dressed as a woman. Even if you are not passable, at least people are familiar with that. Most people have probably seen more crossdressers than they have guys in hose. People are trained to accept two ideas of gender, male and female, they have a hard time dealing with something in-between. A guy wearing pantyhose or a camisole under his suit is hard to categorize, and when people can't place an idea in a comfortable little hole in their mind they become uncomfortable with it. People always say it's unfair that a woman can wear men's clothes but the opposite is not true. There are commercials with a woman wearing her boyfriend/husband's underwear. Wouldn't it be funny to see the same commercial backwards. The wife calls home and the husband answers the phone dressed in his wife's lingerie, and he makes the comment that he is thinking about her. This will not happen any time soon. People are much more likely to accept a woman in mans clothes.

This is a patriarchal society. Things associated with men are associated with power, and moving up. People are encouraged to move up. Thus if a woman decides to take on some of the power status of a man it is seen as a step forward. However, if a man chooses to take on those things deemed feminine, he is moving backwards, and away from the direction of societal pressure. Thus it is an uphill battle for men who are willing to expose and explore their feminine side.

After that incident I gave up on the aerobics studio idea. I kept having these extreme urges to express myself. A few months later I noticed a new store a few miles from my home. It sold name brand hosiery that was either discontinued or imperfect. To this day I still love that store. I walked by it a few times and noticed they also sold men's socks.

I figured if I got inside and felt wrong I could grab a pack and be out. I went in, and started to look around. I was in long pants, and had no hose on. I tried not to be obvious but I knew I was. I was the only customer in the shop, and it was clear that I was not heading for the socks. A saleslady approached and asked if I needed help, and I told her I was looking. She responded with a statement I can still hear clearly to this day.

She said, "Okay honey, your sizes will be right over there, and don't feel shy around here. You let me know if I can help you find any stockings." I tried to act as casual as possible, but I just couldn't help but love the place. I noticed on another rack they had exercise wear, so I went over and looked at them. As I was looking the saleslady suddenly appeared.

She reached over to another rack and pulled out a royal blue short sleeved lycra leotard. She said it was only fifteen dollars, and it should be my size. She told me that she has plenty of guys who come in, and if I wanted to try it on I could. She did tell me that for health reasons I had to be wearing underwear. I told her I wasn't, then she suggested some hose. She recommended some tan sheer to the waist hose that I really liked the look of. I went ahead and paid for them and went and put them on along with the leotard. She asked me to come out so she could see.

I stepped out, and she said it fit great. She asked if I wanted any tights or other hose. She proceeded to show me some hose and tights and a few more leotards. I was in heaven. I was walking around a store in a leotard and hose and felt totally comfortable. After a few minutes some ladies entered the store but I did not feel uncomfortable at all. She excused herself for a minute and went to help the other ladies. I was looking around when I overheard her tell the ladies that I was wearing the same hose she was recommending to them. I could see that they were looking at my legs, and it felt good.

She rang them up and then came back to me. I must have been there over an hour, and left with leotards, tights, several pair of hose. I called a few weeks later and made sure she was there and went back. This time I wore some shorts and hose. She remembered me and helped me again.

I love that place. I finally had a place I could shop and actually be treated well. This was so much different than other stores. The major department stores have never given me any problems, but they have also shown no support. The clerk just seems to want to make the sale and put forth minimal effort.

I never had a department store clerk actually remind me that the winter weather is coming and I might want some heavier hose, or that maybe a different brand might match my skin tone better. The clerks just ask what brand, size and color you want. This lady was different though. She actually took an interest and seemed to enjoy it. She is no longer at the store, but over the years I have found all the clerks equally receptive. I have been told that they get a large number of men in, and that men actually buy more than women.

I seemed to have finally put a stop to the extreme ups and downs. I had confidence, and no longer felt the overwhelming desires I had before. This is not to say they still do not exist, but they have been smoothed out.

Note: I'm sure this whole up and down incident was fueled by the fact that for the first time I had my own place, and I released years of built up anxiety too quickly. I jumped feet first into the fire without thinking of the consequences. As I stated earlier, there are still times I just don't care to wear hose, and other times I do. These cycles have always been present. The main difference is in the situation I was in. When I was not living on my own, the general situation was biased against men in hose. By this I mean that at my parents home, the freedom for a man to wear hose was not fully present in the house. Even when I was living with my female roommate, I still was concerned about it.

I could not have done whatever I wanted without feeling concerned about her reaction, stated or otherwise. However when I was on my own, all the barriers were gone inside the walls of my apartment. I had always been held down by the rules of others, parents and roommates, which I had an obligation to. Now the pressure was gone, and like a spring held down, I suddenly released. More to come

Installment number three of alan's posts: wearing hose. experiences & insights III

Written by Alan on Sun Jul 13 04:11:33 1997

Written to all users

____________________________________

Part III mid 20's to early 30's

My hose wearing had finally reached a manageable state. I was working in a large office, and soon found that certain precautions were in order. It is not very easy to use a urinal, and keep all traces of your hose hidden.

Note: I have never had any desire to openly wear hose or any other feminine item at work. The department I am in is fairly small, and I could probably wear dark hose and no socks. If it were discovered there would probably be a little joking but nothing more. It is not my direct co-workers I am worried about. Gossip travels fast in an office, and before long it could reach someone in an authority position.

I doubt I would suffer any type of fallout immediately, but there are future consequences to think about. When it comes time for a promotion, and I may be competing against someone else, I do not want some executive to remember that one of the candidates is the guy who wears hose. This may be unfair, but it is reality. There are times we must just accept things the way they are, and not fight the battles we can't win.

I finally stopped wearing hose to work, except once or twice a month. It was also obvious that the corporate ladder involved much more than just going to work each day. I soon realized that if I were to be recognized I needed to be involved in activities the company sponsored. We not only had the proverbial softball team, but we also sponsored some charity events such as tennis and golf.

Participation in these events meant I was going to need to make a decision to either grow my leg hair back, or come up with a good excuse. Note: I've read the post that if you want to keep your legs shaved, tell people you are a biker or swimmer. If you decide to go this route, be sure you have a good tan. Most bikers and swimmers are outdoors often, and have good tans. If your legs are pale white, it's a dead giveaway that you are not a biker or swimmer.

I made the decision to grow the hair back and not try and make excuses. Once the hair was grown back and I was socially involved again, I did not really miss the hose. I had been a bit of a hermit before. But now I was finding things to do almost every weekend. I started dating, and even though I had thought about how I would tell a potential girlfriend, the topic did not seem that important anymore. One evening I had a date coming over and instead or trying to hide my hose I just threw them all out. I was convinced I was through with them. I had several girl friends until I finally settled down with one. I ended up spending most of my time with her, but not all of it. I had gone over a month without wearing hose. I even looked back on it and thought it was so silly.

The relationship went on for a few months, and after all the initial passion had worn off I found that my desire to wear hose started to come back. I would wear hose when I was not with her. As often happens, this relationship ended. It was repeated though with a few others. I never felt the urge to tell them about my hose. The shortest relationship I had was with a lady I met when I was 29. I had a friend whose wife worked in the personnel office at a large department store. They were having a company picnic and his wife invited me because she wanted me to meet on of her coworkers. She was one of the new trainee department managers at the store. She was 26 years old, cute and very intelligent. We had a great time and decided to see each other.

We dated a few times, but the hours were tough. She had retail hours and I had 9-5. About two weeks into the relationship I met her for a late dinner. She was so excited to tell me about her day. It seems that just before closing a man dressed as a woman came into the store and purchased some lingerie from the department she was in charge of for the night. She described him as sick and perverted. She rattled off a few more small-minded adjectives, and when she was done I simply told her that I did not share her feelings and could no longer find any reason to see her.

Note: I am usually a pretty good judge of character, but when it comes to such taboo subjects as crossdressing, it is often very hard to read people. I am constantly surprised. It all comes down to how secure someone is with his or her own sexual identity. If they see something as a threat they will resist it.

I was finally forced to make the decision of telling a girlfriend when I was 30. I had met a wonderful lady. She was beautiful, charming, and very thought provoking. She had divorced her husband about 2 years earlier and had gone through a few bad relationships. She and I hit it off immediately. We shared many common interests, but both had outside interest and activities we enjoyed. We had dated for about two months, and everything was going great. All the pieces were falling into place. I decided I needed to tell her about the hose. I was trying to think of a time and place, when she gave me the perfect opportunity. She had been debating telling me something for a long time, but she felt that if our relationship was to survive she could not keep it a secret.

I was prepared for the worst, especially since she says this was the main cause for her divorce. She started to cry and then told me she was not capable of having children. I was prepared for something much worse, but for her that was the worst thing she could tell me. We talked and then I told her my little secret. The next morning we talked a bit more and were both comfortable with the other's revelation. I did not start wearing hose immediately. I waited a few days and when we were at the store I grabbed a pair. I put them on that night and just wore them around under my pants. I did not wear them everyday; instead I wore them whenever I felt like it.

My girlfriend played matchmaker and set up her best friend with my best friend, and it worked. I need to describe my best friend. We grew up together, and were always there for each other. We shared no secrets, and always knew whatever happened we would be there for each other. He moved away to go to college out of state. He met and married his wife there, and after a few years they moved back. We did not have much time to see each other because of our schedules. I had often wished he had been around during my troubled early twenties. We got back together when he called me one night and confessed he had an affair. He couldn't tell anyone else, and just needed someone to talk to. A year had passed, and his marriage failed. We had really become close again, and I was glad to have him back around. I told my girlfriend that I wanted to tell him about the hose, but just had not found the right time. A few days later they both came by for dinner one night, and after we had eaten and had some drinks, my girlfriend whispered in my ear to tell them. I decided the easiest way was to let them find out.

I was not wearing any socks, so I took of my shoes and we continued talking. I was amazed that it took so long to notice. Finally my best friend's girlfriend noticed my feet. She did not say anything, so I just acknowledged what she thought. "Yes, they're hose". My friend then peered down and simply acknowledged that indeed they were hose.

Note: This was the first time I was not asked, why I wore hose. As we get older we tend to filter our friends and acquaintances. As a child our friends are generally limited to the kids in the neighborhood or school. In high school and college we met friends that are from the same age, grade, and educational level. When we were twenty years old in college we probably did not have any friends that were 40 or 50. Once we have moved beyond these institutions though we seem to do a better job of picking friends. It took me a while to realize that the friendships of youth, teen years, early adulthood, and adulthood are very different. The people I have decided to call friends are people that have the qualities I expect in a friend.

Therefore, it is not surprising that the whole hosiery issue is no big deal to them. I am their friend, and the hose are not a factor in that. This is something I wish I had known much earlier. I was still projecting the reactions and maturity level of childhood friendships on my current friends. I could have been spared a great deal of grief if I had only realized that people change, and the way they react at 20 is not the same as 30. Of course there are still those people that will have negative reactions, but they are not people I want as friends, so it does not matter.

After the night was over, I started to feel different about wearing hose. There had always been a sort of secret taboo thing about them. I had not thought about that for a long time. Now suddenly it seems okay amongst my friends. I was no different to them before or after they found out.

A year passed, and things had changed. My girlfriend and I were no longer together. We are still great friends, but the relationship just was not there for the long term. The same thing happened with my best friend, so we decided that since both lived in rather small apartments we should pool our resources and get a place together. We ended up renting a large apartment in a very quiet, conservative area. I also decided to change jobs. I was offered a job with a small firm, and decided to take it. I was to start as soon as the company had completed their new offices. I timed my two week notice so that I would have a month off, and six weeks of vacation pay plus comp time.

My roommate decided to plan his two weeks vacation for the same time. We had two weeks off and no set plans. We knew we would do something, but not quite sure what.

I have some apprehension about posting the next section covering those two weeks. It's two weeks of my life I will never forget. The problem is that drugs became a factor during this period. I do not want to be a censor. If I see interest, I will post it.

Preview part IV (if it is posted)

My roommate tries hose. Cops in Louisiana. Going to Hooter's restaurant in hose.

... Now you can see why I would like to find the final installment! (JB)