Showing off my assets

Since my last entry - yeah, I know, that long ago - one of the realities of the sitution has become increasingly apparent.  If you have a pronounced pair of boobs, as I do, there's a limit to the extent to which you can hide the fact.  If I were a female, who would be expected to have boobs and probably have no compunction about displaying the fact, then this wouldn't be a problem and there would be no reason for me to sit here and write about it.  If I were a full-on crossdresser then it would form part of the wider picture which all that entails.  But I'm not and it doesn't.  I dress like a guy (outwardly at least) except that now I'm a guy who has a very obvious set of girly tits!

Up until now, I've either just worn T-Shirts around the house and left anyone to whom I answered the door to draw their own conclusions, or else worn a hoodie or sweater when out.  But with warm spring-like sunshine, and a trip to the supermarket in the offing, it dawned on me that it was time to stop being a wuss about it.  After all, it was my decision to keep them when I found out I'd got them: I love having them and in my own way I'm proud of them.  So sod what everyone else might think,

Armed with that positive thought, I set off.  Most of my T-Shirts are neither close-fitting nor baggy, so I chose a standard blue medium one.  I must admit I did a sharp double-take when I saw a reflection of my profile in a shop window, but maybe the full frontal was a little less obvious?  Who was I kidding?  But then I was forgetting: self-consciousness always magnifies any perceived problem tenfold, and the reality is that in any case the majority of supermarket shoppers are way too wrapped up in their own affairs to even notice what anyone else is doing or looks like.  After all, was I checking out all the other guys to see if they looked like they had girly tits?  Of course not (well, I wouldn't have been otherwise)!

Maybe next week I should wear my "Smile if you wish you were gay" T-Shirt.

An Englishman's home is his castle

A well-established principle, established over centuries, that what you do in your own home (within reason) is your own business, and no-one else has any right to interfere in it. So when a double-glazing salesman rang the doorbell this afternoon, and I just happened to be wearing a black leather miniskirt and tights, I answered it. I wish I'd had the presence of mind to say something like "Do I look like I'd want to buy double glazing from you?" but I guess he got the message, because he hightailed it back down the path like the proverbial bat out of hell.

Funnily enough, when some years ago I used to do door-to-door canvassing knocking on peoples' doors, I soon found out you see all sorts. I don't think for one moment it would've fazed me had the roles been reversed, but then perhaps he was new at the job?

Watching TV

I was chatting online last night *as you do* with a cyber-mate, and he'd apparently been watching a load of TV-themed porn videos *as you do (maybe?)* Anyway, the upshot of this was that he sent me some pics to look at: I think they were 'publicity shots' rather than stills from the clips, but they could've been either.

The basic contradiction, if you like, of TV/TS in a porn context is the combination of very huge and obvious boobs juxtaposed with an equally huge and obvious cock - or at least that's what came across from the photos he'd sent and I imagine they're all pretty much the same. What little there was of the costumes was quite appealing: in particular I spotted a zip-front (or rather half-unzipped) white PVC corset-thingy which looked pretty hot, but overall the effect - for me - was ruined by the very ostentatious boob job, and I'd have much preferred a hot guy, looking like a guy, dressed in the same outfit, and I told him so.

That, though, I guess rather defeats the main point of TV porn, which is that the stars look in most respects obviously like females, and the male psyche responds to big boobs as the usual manifestation of that - so I'm probably in the minority in not liking them much. I'd certainly cross being a TV porn star off my list of possible career options, anyway.

Knock knock.... who's there?

I was getting the tea ready earlier this evening, when the doorbell rang. I went down to answer it and I could see two young-ish guys, smartly dressed, with clipboards. I looked at the nearest one expectantly.
"Hi there buddy, how are ya doin?" he started.
"Look, I'm sorry, but I really don't have time for this now"
His next piece of repartee from the script vanished into the night air as I shut the front door.

Back in the house, the dialogue went like this:
"Who was that at the door?"
"Some b****** doorstep salesman"
"What was he selling"
"Dunno - I didn't let him get that far"
"Well how d'you know he was a salesman"
"When someone you've never clapped eyes on before smarms all over you like you're a long-lost friend without saying who he is first, it's a dead giveaway"

As I finished getting the tea, I reflected on the times I used to go knocking on doors, years ago when I went out canvassing. The people who said "No" upfront were a godsend when you were getting paid £x for a fixed number of houses: you'd get the whole thing done and dusted in no time. You could do without the ones who messed around pretending to be out while surreptitiously peering through a crack in the curtains, the ones who yelled at you through the letterbox, not to mention the ones who asked if you could come back when their husband/boyfriend/parents were in - or the "I'm just the babysitter".

It occurred to me afterwards that I'd answered the door wearing a pair of sheer black tights and a red T-Shirt with "Smile if you wish you were gay" written across the front. When you go round knocking on peoples' doors you see it all, believe me!

Mantyhose

One tip I picked up when I was a regular bike rider was wearing leggings or tights underneath your jeans kept your legs nice and warm in the winter! So I did. I must admit I kinda liked the feel of it, too.

Fast forward some years, and I read that it's now apparently fashionable (in some circles at least) for guys to wear tights - as indeed they used to centuries ago - coining the word "mantyhose". While I'm not really bold enough to do it in public, I do rather like the look and feel of tights with shorts, especially as the weather has turned noticeably cooler this week. I'm not entirely sure I have the legs for it, and I suspect I probably ought to shave them, though my legs aren't particularly hairy anyway. Whatever - I always get a kick out of being unconventional!