Hi all,
MG,
That's pretty perceptive of you. I can't say I speak for all my sisters, here, but, for me, dressing androgynously and being crossdressed aren't the same thing. I'm crossdressed whenever there's a possibility of my being, at first glance, taken for a woman (well, from the neck down, at least). I'm dressed androgynously whenever there's a possibility of someone feeling slightly confused at my ambiguous appearance (and I don't mean just the clothes). For example, if I'm wearing women's slacks (no zipper, no pockets); a breezy blouse; plain, flat-heeled loafers with a low-cut riser; pantyhose visible at the ankle; if I wear this, along with a subtle, somewhat translucent nail polish and a touch of barely there makeup that's virtually unnoticeable, while simultaneouly making no effort to hide the fact that I'm a man (facial hair, "undelicate" gait, etc.), then I've entered into a bit of a "gender twilight zone" (a country first explored by the likes of gender activist Kate Bornstein). Now, that's androgynous dressing; it's something I rarely do (although I more often did, in the past). Underdressing is an entirely different matter.
I don't think it's ever the case that wearing feminine underwear is something we intend others to know. Certainly not consciously, anyway. Underdressing is maybe a more fetishistic aspect of crossdressing. After all, wearing a pair of panties or pantyhose doesn't contribute in any way to the realization of any wish we may have to present as women. No, it's a secret thing, this underdressing. It's a small comfort, a tenuous link to our perceived identity, as we move about in a world of dark cottons and denim.
I say you're perceptive, MG, because you hit the nail right on the head; I
do dress to shock sometimes (although I think "shock" is too strong a word... maybe I dress to "surprise" people out of their gender complacency). Still, that day I went to the office, I was dressed in an way that was admittedly a little off, even for me. I was slightly less than "androgynously dressed" (all outerwear masculine but the boots) and slightly more than merely "underdressed" (because of the women's boots which, I have to say, didn't look overly feminine as I wore them but most certainly would've stood out, lined up there, against other people's boots in the hallway--not to say anything of exposing my nyloned feet, scarlet toenails and all!). Needless to say, I haven't tried that since; as far as I was concerned, it was a failed experiment.
Now, the thing about the flat crotchline is that, in the context of simple underdressing (when my intent isn't to pass as a woman or even to dress androgynously), I, myself, am a bit weirded out by my "vanishing manhood." I guess, weirded out to an extent that I might be deluding myself into thinking that others (well, others who stare at crotches, anyway) must also find a "flat-groined man" (for lack of a better expression) a strange sight to see. Maybe if I were a true transsexual I wouldn't be bothered by this as much. But then, if I were a true transsexual, I wouldn't keep my 'stache and pinch either. By the way--and I guess this might be too much info, maybe, maybe not--but, when I say "vanishing," I mean
vanishing, not flattened (consider, if you will, the timeworn transgendered practice of "tucking"). I'll let you all fill in the details. It's not particularly comfortable--physically
or psychologically--so I usually resort to somewhat looser underwear or go for open-bottomed girdles or corselettes. Anyway, I hope this helps clear up some of your puzzlement, MG.
As far as "Oh! the troubles I've seen!" I was just being playful. My crossdressing is nowhere near the curse I used to think it once was. My personality, like satin or silk, wrapped itself around my gender identity--my very earliest recollections being about how enebriating the aromas floating around in my mother's bedroom were... the powders and the paints, the brushes and the sponges, the dresses and slips laid out on the bed... all of it smelled vibrant and intoxicating. My personality, I say, wrapped itself around these sensual delights, and I'm pretty happy the way I am today. Though I have "seen troubles" (we
all have), I see them now for what they really were, the birth pangs of a renewed self. And I love and accept and am in touch with myself. My crossdressing has made me who I am today. The "troubles" were worth it.
Okay, all, back to Boots!

Sorry, these wild tangents take me out to sea, sometimes.
Love,
CJ