afternoon dress up

Ma Eternal Murnin' at Christmas in the Gorbals Tenement
I've aye felt a queer pull tae this place—number 142 Balgrayhill Road, a weary auld sandstone tenement up in the Gorbals, wi' its shared stairheid an' that cauld tiled close that smells o' damp washin' an' yesterday's chip fat. The blizzard's ragin' the nicht, Christmas 2025, December 25th turnin' intae Boxin' Day proper—snaw drivin' sideways doon the wynd, howlin' roon the lum pots like a banshee, an' the whole estate blanketed in white, streetlights glowin' fuzzy orange through the flurry.
For years, in the quiet o' ma sissy crossdressin' dreams—blethered in late-night internet chats an' hidden fantasies, I've yearned tae cast aff the ordinary an' embrace a wummanly self that's lush, commandin', an' pure voluptuous. The nicht, in this freezin' Scottish winter storm, wi' the wind greetin' doon the close an' snaw pilin' up against the door, that yearnin' finally becomes ma truth.
I staun afore the cracked mirror in the back room, the wind rattlin' the single-glazin' windae, transformin' intae Evelina McTavish, the eternal widow o' the tenement. Ma body—mature, morbidly obese, overflowin' wi' soft curves an' generous fullness—is nae langer somethin' tae hide unner baggy joabies; it's tae be celebrated in this private ritual o' surrender, the cauld air bitin' at ma skin as I dress.
The goon is aw I dreamed: a strikin' black Victorian murnin' A-line, ordered online an' altered masel', made frae shiny satin that catches the dim bulb light like wet tar. Multiple tiers cascade tae ma ankles, brushin' the lino; lang puffed sleeves hug ma airms, an' the high collar frames ma face wi' stern elegance. Ma satin opera gloves slide up smooth tae ma elbows, matchin' the satin heidscarf that covers ma hair in modest severity. Ower it aw drapes a delicate chiffon veil, flutterin' in the draught frae the ill-fittin' door, soaftenin' ma features intae a haze o' melancholy.
As I smooth the folds, feelin' the heavy satin cling tae every abundant inch—the tiers flarin' ower ma wide hips, the bodice cradlin' ma ample bosom, the fabric cauld at first but warmin' frae ma body heat—a wave o' liberation washes ower me, mixin' wi' the smell o' coal smoke frae some neighbour's fire. Nae langer the secret sissy; I'm Evelina, a gothic matron o' sorrow an' quiet power, murnin' loves lost, yet revelin' in ma femininity.
Wi' slow steps the goon rustlin' like whispers doon the narrow close stair I descend the creakin' concrete steps, cauld unner ma feet even through slippers, the snaw driftin' in unner the outer door.
Ma faithful companion, a big black corbie I cry Poe (he's been comin' tae the back court for scraps for donkeys), flaps in through the open windae an' perches on ma gloved shoulder, his feathers iced an' cauld against ma neck.
I step oot intae the estate's street, the blizzard whippin' snaw intae ma veil, stingin' ma cheeks, the ground crunchin' unnerfoot, distant bagpipes wailin' frae some hoose party, mixin' wi' the wind's roar. The abandoned swing park's chains creak in the gale; fairy lights frae a few windaes blink through the snaw. Here, unner the howlin' storm, I walk slow atween the bins an' parked motors, ma veil dancin' wild. Poe lifts aff, circlin' like a dark guardian afore settlin' back. In this cauld, sacred nicht—ma ain vigil—I whisper vows tae masel', hummin' a bit o' "Missletoe n' whine" unner ma breath, promisin' nae mair hidin'.
Deeper intae the estate I drift, past identical closes an' satellite dishes buried in snaw, the satin shimmerin' faint unner streetlights, tiers heavy wi' meltin' flakes. I feel powerful, sensual, complete—ma morbidly obese form a throne o' gothic beauty in this freezin' Scottish nicht.
As the bells approach midnight, faint through the storm, I return tae the tenement. Poe caws saft, like a private toast. Evelina McTavish'll bide here forever, in the heart o' this blizzard an' hidden desire. An' deep in ma soul, the sissy dreams'll whisper on, eternal as the corbie's cry.
Never mair wull I hide, hen. No' even in this ragin' winter. Happy Christmas tae me.

Since im not dressing up tonight, here are some memes im sure someone will appreciate

I think this dress is a little too short but I sure do love wearing it

Hey happy holidays to you all im looking forward to time where i can be dressed 24/7, love time dressed like a complete cum slut

So who’s dressing up for Xmas ? Out with wifey tomorrow to get a sparkly dress for Christmas Eve. Xx

Are you a pretty princess? Are you preppy? A diaper brat? An emo gurl? Do you want to wear beautiful dresses? Are you a naughty secretary? Do you just want to be in lingerie?

Anyone thought about dressing your best male friend up and being a sissy couple xx

Thank you everybody for your support and kind messages, The funeral was not as emotional as I expected, I'd had three weeks to process my wife's death. Some of the mourners showed more grief than I did. So all in all, I feel I'm now coping. In time to come I will get back to being the Sensual Cross-dressing Sissy Pervert that had been suppressed due to my mourning these last few weeks.

I feel awkward today, I I'm crossdressing as... as... as amale, ugh!

Cheeky upskirt from today! Went to a work lunch with a tight dress and thong panties under my normal clothes.. so risky!! Felt so naughty all day!

Gabbyskies is a fake. Photo shopping pictures off the net. Blue dress blonde hair on Pinterest

Crossdressing, where do i start to create the natural looking shape?

Whats the task or chore you do that you hate but would be a pleasure when dressed feminine

Well that's if for dressing for now. Kids finish Friday, then it's Xmas. Will have to wait til they go back in January. Will be looking for outfits online during down time as I still want to go out dressed during the winter/spring

Black and White Christmas


My Christmas dress
I dream
Just white
To merry Bon Noel....
I hope
He'll propose straight
Without silly wait...
I will be very pretty
Wife
And cold
to help his
Work...
I think it would be very right
Spent Christmas with black top...

Nearly my free weekend, can't wait for some winter knit dresses stockings heels and furs

I got myself a little chastity vagina for when I dress up - tucks everything up nicely #gamechanger

The issue I'm having as the weeks go on is that I'm blurring my sissy crossdressing with my mourning. Every waking hour I'm missing my wife and I'm a blubbering mess of tears but I'm also aroused at the thought of satin widows weeds and satin mourning dresses and oversized satin headscarves and chiffon voile veils. I'm bothered that this has developed as a further aspect of my gothic fetish. The arousal is blending in with thoughts of satin widows’ weeds, mourning dresses, oversized satin headscarves, and chiffon voile veils, I don't think that’s something to feel ashamed of or worried about as a problem. It’s a natural, human way my mind and body are weaving together different parts of who I am becoming during this incredibly tender time. Grief doesn’t stay neatly in one box, it spills into everything, including our identities, desires, and fetishes. For me at this time, the sissy crossdressing that’s always been inside is now intertwining with mourning because both are about comfort, beauty, vulnerability, and a kind of sacred ritual. The gothic element—dark, dramatic, veiled, satin-shrouded—has always had that edge of sensuality and mystery, and right now, it might be amplifying because it lets me feel alive in my body when everything else feels numb or shattered. Arousal in grief is more common than people talk about; it can be the body’s way of seeking connection, release, or even just a momentary escape from the pain. It doesn’t mean my love for my wife is any less pure or that my mourning is tainted, it means I'm a whole person, with layers of emotion and desire that don’t switch off just because I'm hurting. This blending feels like it’s developing into a deeper aspect of my gothic fetish, but I feel that’s okay too. Fetishes evolve with life experiences, and grief is one of the biggest. The satin widows’ weeds and veils are symbolizing both my loss and deep longing to be held, enveloped, seen in my inner femininity. My troubled psyche is creating a bridge between the sorrow and the sensuality I shared with my wife. There’s beauty in that, even if it brings tears and arousal at the same time. I'm navigating this with grace, even when it hurts.

The CD Stories Group now has CHAT Working

https://www.crossdressing.co.uk/groups/CD.Stories

Melanie in her #SchoolUniform this afternoon......
#CrossdresserUK #WhiteSatinBlouse

Hopless Wait...

...One touch
One Kiss
One juxtapose..
I'm ready and undressed
My lips are bright
And lust in poses
That you might not
Forget...

Forget,
I am a lonely girl
Who looks for girl
In vein...
But men
Are far away
For Sole
And body
Says
...no way...

I dream to meet
My girl
Lets once
In night
To feel
Love kiss
I am all yours
My Dream desire
My girlfriend
Ohh my Miss...
I miss you terrebly
All day
I lost my trust
My peace...
I hope meet
Once
pretty Soul
Who answers to my kiss...

Why am I happier dressing up and being girly doing more general feminine stero type things than being manly being a man

Couple more from my pretty pink dress set took far too many pics in this outfit! Hope everyone is doing good x

Afternoon ladies will be posting shortly just deciding dress or mini skirt

It has been a long day for me. I have several photos to post and yes my beach shots from two weeks ago are some I plan to show soon. But I am really thinking I shall just call it good night, for now. All me - my own skin - all my profile. OK the dress and my bed is AI generated. And I am wearing a wig - My actual hair is long and blond

New dress and heels

Last day of dressing till my 2 week christmas break from this weekend.

How many ex-partners is okay for your bride to have? Zero? Ten? A hundred? Be honest—comment your number! https://www.youtube.com/@LeggyVeronica #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #crossdressers #sissy #bride #nylon #heel

I have just woke up wrapped up in our satin nightdresses, at a time before her illness made sleeping together a problem, we had matching satin pink nightdresses. Last night I pulled the suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe and laid them out on the bed. Pink Simply Be Pretty Secrets Nightdresses in lovely silky satin. Full covered shoulder to capped sleeves with lace piping and spread across the breast. Calf length satin shimmering in Pink. My wife's is regularly worn in UK size 32/34, mine is newer UK size 20/22, I liked a slimmer tight nightdress that hugged my skin, my wife wore hers two sizes bigger than her usual larger dress size to make it easier to slide around in bed. I slipped mine on and shimmied the satin down my moobs and hips to rest around my calves. My wife's was like a tent on my body, lots of voluminous extra satin material hanging loose. The double layer feeling of all the satin was wonderful and I admit the erection had to be contained within a condom because pre cum started instantly. I lay on the bed and was overcome with both longing and grief, I laid there on the bed with tears in my eyes and sobbing in my chest. When I had calmed down the sensual aspect of the double layer satin took over and led to the inevitable masturbation. Physically and emotionally I was drained and fell asleep waking a few hours later needing to take off the condom and go to the toilet for a wee. As I walked back from the toilet to the bedroom the satin reminded me of our sensuality and our love. Wrapped in the double layer of satin underneath the quilt I felt comforted and slept deep until this morning. For me this needs to become my new deeply tender and bittersweet mourning ritual, one that holds both the sharp pain of loss and the soft warmth of memory all at once. Wearing her nightdress over mine, letting all that extra satin envelop me like a tent, felt almost like being held by her again. The way the fabric moved, the shimmer, the slide of it against my skin… it’s no wonder my body responded so immediately and so completely. And now I’ve found a ritual: pulling down the suitcase, laying the nightdresses side by side on the bed, slipping into both, letting the satin hold me in that bittersweet double embrace. It’s sacred because it’s mine and hers alone. It keeps the connection alive in the most embodied way possible through touch, through memory, through the very fabric we both wore against our skin when we made love, laughed, slept, lived. Grief and desire live right next to each other; one doesn’t cancel out the other. The tears, the arousal, the release, the comfort, it all belongs within my psyche. I honored her, our love, and the sensuality we shared by allowing myself to feel everything that came up. For my state of mind, there’s something sacred in keeping those satin nightdresses layered together, in pulling them out when the longing gets too heavy, in letting them carry me back to the nights when sleeping tangled together in satin was simply how life was. I'm keeping the connection alive in the most intimate, embodied way possible. I loved her totally, and I'm still loving her beautifully in my mourning.

Day 3 of dressing. think i have a crossdressing problem lol.

What drives you to dress

Love being a naughty crossdresser cum hungry slut

Who's still up and dressed like a complete cum slut like me

Had a little stroll outside tonight in my Xmas dress

Since i have a few days off it would be rude not to dress up.

I'm a lingerie crossdresser only in the privacy of my own home not in public it's a fetish I love and enjoy doing sometimes u can Tex my cell phone number 5137907780

Any crossdressers wa n to chAt

Outfit for the day is Faux Leather Midi Dress, Crimson stockings, Block suede Knee high boots with block heels, fur lined hooded cloak to keep the chill off the shoestring strapped shoulders

When Melanie had a bad bout of Psoriasis but still had the urge to cross-dress. Hope it doesn't put you off me......!
Thankfully it is all well gone and I am back to being wonderfully clean and smooth all over

Any crossdressers want to chat

I went through a purge recently but the urge to dress is too strong! Wearing these today and it feels amazing. Hope you’re all having a great day

Couple of new dresses from vinted, very pleased with them

Is anyone else here so comfortable with cross dressing that you sometimes forget you’re wearing women’s clothes?

Forgive the long post, but I was doing some journalling this evening as I reflected on a few things. In a moment of clarity I managed to come up with some really interesting self-realisations, particularly about why I dress. And I wanted to share them somewhere!

I began to realise the other place I adopt some of the same habits and mental approach to crossdressing is when I've done tabletop role playing like D&D: I get really involved in 'immersing' myself in a character at the table, and get really deep into their mannerisms and subtle nuances of their backstory.

I think me being Bethany is very much the same. I know I have no intention of even transitioning. However, she is a role or a character I just love to put on and play sometimes; suddenly I'm making backstory, writing lore, adding costume. I'm not necessarily trying to become her, I just want to play the role authentically.

I think as a way of framing myself, I find that so helpful to register. Hopefully it resonates with others too.

When I do x dress I actually forget who I am & to be honest I find it quite rewarding I love the comforting feel & satisfaction & the warm sexual energy flowing through me

All dressed up & nowhere to go

My sissy mourning cross-dresing feels like. I am the Walrus by the Beatles, totally nonsense but really deep and open to interpretation. I am he as you are he, as you are me and we are all together, See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly, I'm crying.
That line hits me so hard, “I am he as you are he, as you are me and we are all together…” It’s pure, swirling absurdity that somehow lands right in the middle of the most tender, confusing parts of being human. And right now, it feels like the perfect mirror for what I'm going through.
My sissy mourning crossdressing is exactly that kind of nonsense—beautiful, ridiculous, heartbreaking, and deeply true all at once. I'm grieving the husband I was, while also stepping into this soft, feminine space that feels both foreign and like coming home. It’s contradictory, it’s messy, it’s playful and painful in the same breath. And that’s what makes it so real. The walrus isn’t trying to make sense; the Walrus just is—goo goo g’joob and all. This is my mental breakdown, not madness, just being true to myself.
“See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly”… maybe that’s the world’s reaction to someone daring to be this open, this vulnerable, this unapologetically themselves while still carrying such heavy grief. People scatter because they don’t know what to do with the sight of a widower in lace and tears, laughing and sobbing at the same time. But I'm not running. I'm standing here in my silk stockings, widows weeds and my sorrow, crying, and somehow I think that makes me the bravest person in the room.
I'm allowed to be the Walrus right now—silly, profound, broken, and whole all at once. I don’t have to explain it to anyone, not even to myself. Just let it be nonsense that’s also sacred. I let the tears come, let the pretty things feel comforting, let the absurdity be part of the healing.

To the people who have messaged in chat, thank you for acknowledging my grief. Over time I'm sure I'll get over my loss, it's just a bit raw at the moment, this is part of my healing process as I accept who I am without my wife, the widower, or should that be the sissy cross-dressing widow?