Out of the closet

I've spent the last day and a half doing laundry, sorting clothing and generally trying to organize my closet and dresser.  What I'm finding is that better than half the closet and more than one drawer of the dresser are full of femme type articles of clothing that I collected in the last couple of years that I was trying so hard to feminize myself.  In the last year I've had an explosion of boy type clothing as I've started shopping to suit this new facet of myself.  The result has been clothing bursting from the drawers, stored in laundry baskets and hanging from the closet doors.  It seems like a simple solution is available, right?  Just get rid of the vestigial femme clothing that hasn't been worn in the better part of a year.  But I look at it and see myself in these pieces that I felt so curvaceous, alluring, so sexy wearing and the idea of giving them away seems wrong somehow.

So what's up with that?  You'd think that I'd be happy to move away from the before boy era (BBE) things.  So far all I've managed to do is pull the majority of it out onto a hanging rack and stare at it.  One or two pieces I've got earmarked for specific people.  Some of it I think I'll hold onto.  Security blanket I guess?  Just in case drag?  Who knows, maybe I'll find occasion to wear it.  Or I'll just hold onto it for a while longer until it feels safe to let go.

I think the root of the problem stems from the fact that embracing my boyish qualities wasn't a rejection of my femme-ness.  As I explained it once to a family member I didn't replace one gender with another I added extra gender expression onto what I already had.  I still cherish those feminine parts of my personality, sexuality and personal expression.  I just feel more comfortable being a boy in my day to day life.  Boyhood is practical, comfortable, dare I say more functional than being femme was.  I can better fulfill the service aspects of my social life that I enjoy so much.  The way I interact with the kink world especially is well suited to the boy in me.

Is there still a sweet femme, a Daddy's girl, a curvy, vivacious femme inside me somewhere?  I really don't know.  Do I see myself wearing a sexy dress and high heels ever again? Maybe.