Passed a test

I’ve just spent a few days visiting my father. I visit him every so often for a few days to see how he his: he is getting on and lives alone since his wife / my mother died three years ago. Dad is well and we enjoyed our time together.

In the past these visits have provided lots of opportunity for shopping and dressing up:

  • The train station where I have lunch on the way out has a branch of Accessorize, where I have often bought knickers
  • I would not take any extra male underpants with me and I would wear knickers every day
  • It’s a cold rainy part of the country so on shopping trips out I would often wear a bra as well
  • I would wear knickers and bra on the way back. The train journey breaks at a county town with branches of Accessorize, New Look and Marks & Spencers and I would enjoy shopping. I would change out of the bra before arriving home

In fact, shopping and dressing up was an integral part of the visit (although one that only I knew about). So, having said goodbye to my dressing up habit last August, this visit was a bit of a test.

I certainly felt pangs, especially walking past the Accessorize on the way out. On the way back I went to Marks & Spencers and bought some men’s clothes, and felt the same pangs as the escalator took me past the lingerie department. I think the pangs were more of nostalgia than actual temptation. The appeal of dressing up is still there — but that appeal reminds me of the despair and even panic I felt last August, so it doesn’t develop into temptation.

I got back home without taking that detour. I passed that small test. I don’t feel like I was under the yoke of a new rule. This post is a little celebration.

Total Purge

At the end of August I did a Total Purge of all my Bad Things. It wasn’t a single event as it took a few days to find and extract everything and dispose of it safely. Everything went out.

  • I threw out all my knickers and bras, my strappy nightie.
  • I threw out my toys: a dildo and a set of butt plugs.
  • I threw out all the “product”: lubes and cleaners, a tube of hair removal cream.
  • I threw out all the packaging I’d saved, and the one French book.
  • I deleted all the porn from my computers and my iPad
  • I deleted all the selfies I’d taken of myself dressed up.
  • I deleted all of my online personas – on twitter, flickr and wordpress.

Last time I did a big purge like this was at the end of 2013. It was triggered by sudden shock at seeing how much I’d spent on this secret “hobby” over the year (nearly £300). I threw out a lot of lovely things. I kept back a pair of red cotton shorties that were special for me. I didn’t delete all of the porn or any of the selfies.

This time there was no sudden shock like that – although I probably clocked up a similar amount this last year (haven’t counted up yet — didn’t want this to be about money).

[update: I have counted up:

  • 2015: £194 (25th May — 8th Dec)
  • 2016: £92.60 (17th Jan — 17th Aug)
  • TOTAL: £286.60

So about £20/month.

Previous years for comparison:

  • 2012: £98.64 (19th July — 10th Oct) = £25/month
  • 2013: £217.25 (12th Feb — 31st Oct) = £24/month

Odd that I don’t have any 2012 receipts until July. I started keeping the book in September 2012 so possibly before that I wasn’t keeping all receipts.

Have only one receipt from 2011, which is the earliest.]

In mid-August I went on a bit of a shopping spree in Northern City — I can remember the tug-of-war in my head: detailed internal debate over whether I “needed” another bra; “should” I buy those crotchless panties I’d been fawning over online.

The clincher was that I was going to London on business the next week and if I went shopping here now I wouldn’t need to go shopping in London. Of course after I’d been in one shop, the others easily followed. Decided I didn’t need a bra after all, bought five pairs of knickers, then saw a bra that I just Had To Have … but the lady couldn’t find one in my size.

I was unhappy since that day, with a kind of nameless anxiety mounting.

I nearly did go shopping in London — I was fully intending to go buy a bra & panty set; had even checked the shop had my size … but on the way to my hotel I passed a Large Church (High Church of England).

That completely ruined my mood.

Another Large Church (Wesleyan) on the way to the client in the morning.

A very anxious week after that, especially tortured when trying to get to sleep at night. Not so much about sin or “addiction”, more general worries about work and money and all the bric-a-brac of life. I think at some point the dressing up had stopped being an effective refuge.

At the begining of the next week (30th Aug – 1st Sept) I systematically went through everything, throwing out, deleting, closing down.

During, I felt calm and even strong, refused to get upset or reconsider (no, “but /this/ one I can keep?”).

Apart from my accounts book, which has records of all my spending on this going back to 2011, I have kept nothing.

In the days afterwards I have felt slightly sick. Such extreme violence. I feel like I have razed the city to the ground and ploughed the land into fields. I have made it very hard for myself to go back.

God put it in front of my eyes

** current status

My wife has been away for a while — a fortnight perhaps — looking after her mother, who had had a fall and is recovering. It wasn’t supposed to be a fortnight, but these things have to be given the time they take.

Back here at the homestead our son is anxious — because of the age he is, because of his school work, worried about his grandmother, worried about his mother (who is working hard). I focus on keeping the household ticking over — food, cleaning, bedtimes — somewhat to the detriment of my work — which creates anxieties of its own. And then my wife calls every evening to “offload” after a day’s caring (and a day’s well-wishers and fecklessness from sister).

I have been going to the office some days, and even travelling locally for business. I think every one of those days I’ve slipped into panties and bra first thing. A rush of relief as I feel their magic wrap around me, and a background signal of comfort and reassurance through the day. That must sound so pathetic.

I would take my bra off at the office or in a meeting with a client, or at home. I have stayed away one night (son is 16) and gloriously panties and bra were first thing on in morning and last thing off at night.

One day late last week I mislaid my office key. Not elsewhere in the building, not in an “other” bag/coat/pocket, not in the wash.

An extra thing to do; an extra quantum of anxiety; a reminder of how anxious and frazzled I already was; a guilty prod that my dressing up probably makes me even more frazzled and absent-minded.

** meanwhile

When I learnt my wife would be away I ordered Thomas Keating’s “Open Heart, Open Mind” (recommended by Lisa) and I’ve been dipping into that (it is very rich); I’ve found time to post the review of “Wearing God”; I’ve started reading Lisa Notes and Messy Marriage again; I’ve finally joined Facebook, so I can join a reading group (run by Beth) on 1 Samuel.

** the cross

With a new week coming up, I remembered the cross necklace I bought (and haven’t worn for ages). I thought about wearing it under my shirt to work. Monday morning in the shower I started to feel a tension: bra and panties OR cross necklace. To wear both seemed very wrong and even mad.

As the seconds ticked away towards getting dressed the tension and the internal debate mounted. Not just intellectual debate but emotional tension and real uncertainty. I get the chance to dress up so rarely, I can wear the cross anytime (completely unobtrusive under my shirt). I didn’t want to set up a “panties = bad, cross = good” thing. I managed to talk myself into into by talking about making a decision and sticking to it, self-control, self-discipline: can I rely on myself to make a decision and carry it out, or am I always at the mercy of erupting desires?

It’s surprising what a wrench it was, not to step into my beloved “Nude Rose” bra & panties, but my silver cross necklace was the first thing on that morning.

The magic relief feeling I get when I put on this little cross is exactly the same as when I put on my nice lingerie. Exactly. It was when the lady put it on me in the cathedral shop. It is every time. The similarity between the effects is the main reason I think it’s appropriate to go into my dressing up here. It recalls Shannon Eldridge’s remarks in the Fantasy Fallacy that sexual fantasies and “perversions” are kind of inarticulate or confused yearnings after Jesus’ truer love.

Once the deed had been done I feel quite calm and happy and at peace.

** bus stop

Mooching about at the bus stop (there’s a 15 minute window during which the bus might appear) my eyes dropped to the grass by the side of the road. There, just where my eyes fell, was my office key. I couldn’t help laughing. I couldn’t help thinking God had put it there, right in front of my eyes, as a little thank you.

That was yesterday. My little silver cross necklace was first thing on today as well.

“Wearing God” by Lauren F. Winner

Book details

Wearing God
Lauren F. Winner
Harper Collins


I liked this book a lot. It was just right for me in two ways:

  1. I had spent 2015 reading the Psalms (two complete reads through, some learnings, some favouritings). I was (and still am) interested in learning more about the Psalms and all the different ways of talking about God. I looked around for books but many seemed far too academic. I came across Wearing God by chance on (or via) Lisa Notes. It’s about metaphors for God in the Old and New Testaments, and about how they can help us think about God and enrich our relationship with God.
  2. I had just come out of a bleak couple of months (see Two Pivots: Pivot 1 & Pivot 2). I found this book soothing and cheering — occasionally in that weird Christian way that mixes comfort with challenge.

Wearing God was a nice mix of “learnedness” and practicality. There’s a Further Reading section which has a few books I’ll look up:

Wearing God was my bedtime reading and I remember at least two occasions when it seemed to speak directly to the problems of my day:

  • Our son has had glandular fever and/or anxiety syndrome and we have taken him out of school. It is very difficult trying to coax him to study without tripping him into panic, biting my tongue when he’s surly and always being positive and loving. After one especially bad evening of this I found myself starting in on the chapter on God as labouring woman: the unavoidable suffering and pangs God goes through to bring humanity to the light. I could see myself suffering like God there, and God suffering like me.
  • The chapter on God’s laughter (which I didn’t much like, as God’s laughter seemed often to be about putting women in their place) spoke to my weaknesses. I forget the details now, but I’d spent some time in the evening browsing either lingerie or porn on my phone and ended up annoyed at myself, and slightly exasperated. Lieing in bed next to my wife the reading I remember that night was of Sara’s later laughter, laughing at herself and her situation. So I was able to laugh at myself, which seems better than being angry or exasperated, as laughter seemed to open a way to the “long view”, to hope.

God as clothing

After noticing that Wearing God had spoken to me so often — which was a surprise: I was expecting an interesting book on metaphor — I then became sursprised that the first chapter, on God as clothing, hadn’t spoken to me. So I read the chapter again, this time listening out carefully.

LW mentions God making clothes for Adam and Eve when they leave the garden of Eden (Genesis 3:21) but the main metaphor is of people being clothed in God, or clothed in Christ (e.g., Galatians 3:27).

LW mentions the normal attraction of dressing up (p. 38 “… every time we change into a different kind of clothing, we can play at being a different kind of self”), she says she finds “the notion of God as clothing endlessly suggestive” (p. 37), she even says “To understand Christ as clothing is to understand a certain holy gender-bending” (p. 49). But, all her clothing examples are decidedly “appropriate”. The “gender-bending” is really about /women/ wearing androgynous utilitarian clothing.

LW asks what would it mean to imaging God as a warm winter coat, as a cardigan sweater: “What does it mean to imagine God as a warm winter coat? As a handmade bespoke suit? As a beloved cardigan sweater, purchased in Galway on your honeymoon …?” (p. 37).

I ask, what would it mean to imagine wearing God as a strappy satin nightie?

What would it mean for LW — a woman — to imagine God as a strappy satin nightie?

What would it mean for me — a man — to imagine God as a strappy satin nightie?

As an elegant blouse and long swishy skirt with white stockings and frilly French knickers underneath?

As a dainty bra that fits me — a man — just right?

Perhaps these imaginings seem repulsive or sacreligeous. Why?

Perhaps “God as clothing” shouldn’t be “sexy” clothing. I think there’s room for investigation there generally — but I do sometimes use dressing up as a kind of sex toy and I can see anything in that direction is not appropriate.

But I don’t always use dressing up like that. Sometimes (more often I think, after all there are more convenient sex toys) I dress up because … well,

Why /do/ I dress up?

Why /would/ I want to imagine God in these ways?

When we “imagine God as a cardigan sweater”, what are we doing? We are thinking about how the features a cardigan sweater is /supposed/ to have, what wearing a cardigan sweater is /supposed/ to be like, might apply to God. So, comfort, warmth, organic, traditional, familiar in some way, and so on.

God as a strappy satin nightie

I wear my nightie when I’m staying away on business. After the day’s work I get back to the hotel, I tie up loose ends, I respond to outstanding emails, I have dinner. When I get back to my room after dinner I immediately undress and change into my nightie, and then I relax. I tidy things away and set things out for the morning, I read or listen to music (often wearing a sweater on top of the nightie, so the nightie is like loungewear or even a dress). Hotel rooms are always too hot for boy pyjamas or a t-shirt, so I sleep in the nightie. I enjoy feeling the straps over my shoulders, and the soft cool material by my skin.

The fact that I like to dress up is the most secret thing in my whole life — ever since I started when I was a small boy. I can only wear something like this behind a locked door and closed curtains. So, wearing something like this /means/: I am in a private space, I am safe, no-one will come and get me, no-one will tell me to explain myself. Free from danger, I am free — in such a tiny way — (I won’t say “to be myself” that is nonsense). Sometimes I do bad things, sometimes I don’t. It’s a silly childish spell.

God — or at least Jesus — shelters me. To feel him near me is a beautiful luxurious feeling. I don’t need to explain myself to him — and if I don’t need to explain myself to him, why would I need to explain myself to anyone else? Jesus near me means I am safe: I even used to say to myself sometimes “You are safe: Jesus loves you.”

God as a dainty bra

For present purposes there are two types of bra: padded and un-padded. I have one of each, with matching knickers. I wear them in different circumstances.

The padded bra I always wear with the matching knickers. They are a glamorous, silky set. Because the padded bra affects my silhouette so much I can only wear them in private, as with the nightie. If my wife and son are away together for a few days I’ll spend all my time at home dressed just in these bra & panties, maybe with tights, and just a shirt or a dressing gown. I’ll work, I’ll iron and cook and clean, and I’ll feel light and free.

The unpadded bra I wear, mostly with the matching knickers, when I am out and about in some town away on business: shopping, eating at a restaurant in the evening.

It’s especially nice if they can be first things on in the morning (like this morning! ^^). In the morning after my shower I feel all clean and fresh and somehow climbing into special nice bra & panties enhances, encapsulates and preserves that feeling.

I have only started wearing bras very recently (March 2013 I bought my first bra). It feels like being gently hugged, embraced. I’d like to find a bra that would really fit my tiny breasts. It feels very intimate and tender, especially if I know I am wearing matching bra and panties. And if I am wearing out and about, it is a special secret that sometimes makes me blush.

Because these clothes are a treat for me, the bras I wear are dainty and pretty. Wearing something special and nice that close to me makes me feel that I am special and nice — like the nice ladies who wear these clothes in the catalogues. (I don’t mean special as in “better” than anybody else, I mean something more like “treasured”). I am always conscious that I am wearing a bra, so it is always reminding me of all this.

God holds and supports me. I am always aware of Him and I can always feel his presence. Knowing Jesus loves me makes me feel special and treasured (I don’t need to feel “strong”: I feel “strong” all the time. It’s easy to pull myself together, to fight, to get to bed early, to exercise, to eat properly).

The “secret” side feels relevant too. I love Jesus, I love reading the Bible and these Christian books. Because of today’s cultural environment, I feel I have to keep all that secret too (although my wife has started saying it is a “matter of time” before I “turn into a Christian”).



Yesterday I did something that made me feel so ashamed. Far too ashamed to give any details here (and I don’t want to be tempted to “explain it away”). In the immediate aftermath I was full of disgust at myself. Of course I have done things like this before. Of course I will do things like this again. A sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Even the word “sin” seems to pretty it up — encapsulate and tidy away the revulsion I feel.

[I should say, nobody was hurt or even inconvenienced by what I did. Probably (hopefully!) nobody even noticed.]

In bed at night I found this poem.

Quite shocking to read by chance something that is so close to how I feel.

The first two verses felt very true, as I ruefully remembered the morning. How much I’d like to forget what I’d done, or wall off temptation far away.

When I read “O my saviour, who my refuge art”, I suddenly thought of taking these things I’d done — that day, still fresh and close in my memory — and showing them to Jesus. That felt horrible, and I felt even more ashamed.

But the lines after that didn’t feel quite right. I don’t really want Jesus to be a wall inside me. I want him to be a kind of better temptation. I want to learn to turn to him instead of following my baser urges.

I don’t want to be divided from my sin — so my sin can carry on doing its own thing without troubling me? Isn’t that worse?

I have to own my sin, own these horrid things I do. I have to find a way to give them up somehow to God or Jesus. What a weird kind of offering. I don’t know what to do with it.

I forgot to pray that night. I forgot to ask for forgiveness. Will try to remember tonight.

Two pivots. Pivot 2: up (I hope)

*** Jan 2016: London again

January 2016 I was down in London again, this time to meet an exciting potential new client.

(although the meeting went well, it doesn’t look like we will work together: they were ostensibly looking for a specialist contractor, but they were really looking for a new in-house generalist. We’ll see.)

After the meeting I was going to spend a couple of nights with my mother-in-law (who is 90: fairly healthy, but I generally stay over if I’m anywhere near).

I’d been in this slough of despond for two months. I wanted to pivot up again. I didn’t set myself any targets — other than performing well at the meeting, and having a nice time with my M-i-L — but I wanted this short stay away to swing me up again, into most of all a stronger more positive outlook.

I felt so done in I wanted to pamper myself. On the way down I was wearing knickers and I changed into a bra on the train. The first thing I did after checking in to my hotel was to go shopping: a new bra & panty set from Marks & Spencers, and three pairs of knickers from Boux Avenue. I even went out for dinner still wearing my bra under my shirt.

Perhaps that doesn’t sound too good, but I had an early night, and in terms of pampering it worked very well. I was confident and relaxed with the potential client, and visit with M-i-L also went well.

Staying with M-i-L for a few days was also a very good opportunity to ponder on my work generally, and to prepare for my upswing.

I was expecting to be trying out all my new knickers while I was there but as it turned out I was too tense waiting to hear from this company.

*** Now

That was a couple of weeks ago. How is the upswing going?

I think the pivot idea was a good one and the upswing is happening. Realising to myself that it is not all about me and my own bad habits was important. My wife, and our son, and the state of my business are all affecting me. This swing is not just “up” but also “out”: as well as them affecting me, I can affect them.

So I am going to write more about my Real Life here — including my work (no maths I promise). Apologies in advance for some dreary blog posts.

I will probably write more about dressing up too. Not just out of bravado or angst. It is part of me and it does comfort me (and I just enjoy it). When I leave this behind it will have to be done right and for the right reasons.

Other news:

  • Porn doesn’t seem to be a problem at the moment — in that I rarely look at it.
  • After returning from London I started reading “Wearing God” by Lauren F. Winner, and I’ve just finished it. It is a lovely book and it was just what I needed to read. I am sure it helped me pull myself together again. I’ll post a review shortly. After reading it I have started praying regularly again.

Two pivots. Pivot 1: down

“Pivot” might be my word for 2016 — or at least for part of it.

*** Nov 2015

Beginning of November last year was a sudden strong down pivot.

I was in London for a few days at a conference for work, staying at a hotel. In September and October I was full of the joys of holiness. I had finished my second read-through of the Psalms, and I was looking forward to spending these London evenings praying, reading Christian blogs, and choosing Psalms for a little booklet.

It didn’t work out like that. On the train down I wore my favourite white bra & panties. After checking into my hotel I went out shopping. I went to Debenhams and bought their J by Jasper Conran Purple satin long nightdress, and then I went to Ann Summers and bought their satin & lace Lena teddy.

The conference was exciting and inspiring but also challenging and tiring (I wasn’t presenting but I did a lot of high-level mingling and networking). I spent the evening dressed up in the teddy rolling around with myself, and I slept snugged up in the nightie.

I can’t pretend I didn’t enjoy it either.

The whole thing was like a holiday for me (apart from the weather).

However, once back home, I soon fell into a kind of despair — that things would never change, apart from getting worse.

I should stress this despair was not just (or even primarily) about too much dressing up. There are three elephants haunting this blog that I haven’t much mentioned so far:

  • My work is very precarious (I’m a self-employed computer programmer/statistician). I have been very lucky so far, but over the last year or so I have become increasingly conscious of the need to give my business a solid foundation.
  • In the autumn of 2014, and into 2015, our son had a series of minor illnesses, culminating in an attack of something like glandular fever, and followed by an extended period of intense fatigue — from which which he’s still recovering. His school was far from supportive and we are now teaching him at home (he’s 15).
  • In the spring of 2015 my wife’s closest uncle died. This was very upsetting for her. She was also his executor, and spent a fair amount of time wrapping up his estate. This had various impacts on the family, her work and her health.

*** Christmas 2015

We had a very quiet and tender Christmas looking after each other.

I read a nice little book about Christmas Carols. I seem to enjoy being in this space, at any level.

*** Next

Pivot 2: up

Bad habits update

A quick review of the situation and next steps.

Recall my bad habits are:

  • watching porn
  • looking at women
  • wearing ladies underwear

Watching porn

This is going very well.

*** “Lesbians” only

In the middle of July I put myself on a “lesbians only” porn regime. I grant that this will probably not impress many of my readers here, but I think it’s worth noting. I was finding straight hardcore porn too rough and mechanical. I stuck to the regime, and I enjoyed it a lot.

Anyway, the point here is that it was a kind of “diet” where I was making and sticking to a commitment — small as it was — to avoid certain sights — and fantasies actually: my idle sexual fantasy life just about evaporated (at least its porn incarnation).

*** No porn at all

On 18th August I read Trusting God with My Marriage, a guest post by Robi of Hopeful Wife Today, about discovering her husband’s porn habit affected her marriage, and what they have been doing since. I thought it was a very powerful post. I was moved to comment, and I’ve been reading her own blog as well.

I have not looked at any porn since that day! And I’m not really missing it.

Looking at women

This is the thing I’m most struggling with now. I have good days and I have bad days. Really I am disgusted with myself. This needs a special post to itself.

Wearing ladies underwear

I have more or less given myself up to this. I enjoy it so much and it is such a comfort. I’m not travelling on business very much at the moment, and Wife and Son are rarely away together, so I don’t have much opportunity.

I cycle to work quite early and shower at work. After shower slipping into panties and bra is so nice. I wear the bra for half an hour or so as long as I think it’s safe.

The “no porn” could probably be qualified, as most days I will have at least a quick look at some lingerie sections of online department stores. I’d like to cut that out, especially as I’m not going to be buying any more any time soon.

Next steps

I want to write more here about these bad habits. Reading Robi’s post was very helpful for me.

Shortly after starting my “lesbians only” regime I started a new blog, thinking I would write there about these things, but I don’t thing a separate blog would be a good idea: it would probably end up as too much of a “celebration” of the bad habits.

I worry that I might alienate the few readers I have. However, I think this is the right venue to tackle these issues.

Part of tackling these issues will be writing more often about my wife.

So, I am going to try and writing something every week (writing will not be elegant). I’ll try and rotate topics: my bad habits; my wife; reading; being a Christian.


No doubt some of my readers predicted this.

** What is the point of confession?

I feel I should write this confession “for the record”, but (a) I don’t feel a great deal of remorse, guilt, disgust, etc., (b) I don’t want to “show off”. I’m not quite clear about what is the point of a confession.

I’m putting this bit first in case readers bail out early :D

What is the point of confession? The wikipedia page mentioned the acknowledgement of sins as sins (i.e., contrition), and penance. It mentioned three points: disclosure, contrition and satisfaction. It sounds almost like filling in forms.

It feels too mean to myself to condemn this as sin. Just describing it as sin adds to the punishment and anxiety that I’m running away from.

Who is the person wronged? “My wife” is the obvious answer. The idea of confessing all this to her horrifies me, and I can’t imagine what use it would be.

So, contrition and satisfaction, not yet. Any guidance on that appreciated.

But this at least is disclosure.


Temptation, and Lent

End of 2013 I decided I’d try to put my habit “to bed”. I have a little fetish diary where I log all the things I buy for it. One day soon after deciding to pack in I was pasting in a few last receipts. I totted up 2013 and it came to nearly £350. Over £300 in a year on frilly knickers, camisoles, nighties, bras, and various unmentionables. All of which were now in the bin. That was a bit of a shock.

In fairness to myself, 2013 was a bad year — my mother died and I had a very intense client — so I needed to pamper myself a bit, but … £350 is a lot of money to burn.

The shock confirmed my resolve and 2014 was entirely free.

Once new year had rolled around and we were safely into 2015 there came a calm reasonable civilised voice — “you took a break for a year, well done.” And, yes I’ve been browsing — especially when a potential new client entered the scene and I thought I might have “opportunity” (business trips to work with client).

… but then there was fear: might my dipping into sin drive away the client? Does God work like that? Does the devil? I don’t really believe in the devil anyway …

I’ve driven away the practice, but the need is still there, for the comfort that the fetish provided (i.e., the comfort that the fetish allowed me to give myself). (I am starting to find that comfort — somewhat — in the Bible and in the Christian writers I follow in cyberspace.) (but it’s a bit abstract isn’t it? it’s not entirely intellectual, but it’s not like the real physical hug that you get from your favourite knickers, a reminder of how special you are.)

As well as the fear, I’m conscious that buying just one pair of knickers is not just a step backwards, but a step away from how I’m trying to think of myself, how I’m trying to rebuild myself. This rebuilding is not demolition or tearing away, it’s starting again from what I hold dearest.

At the same time I don’t want to be repulsed by “all that”. That would be too easy and would throw out a lot that should be kept (… perhaps in a different form).

So, lot’s of conflicting feelings. Should I post about it here? Or am I just showing off about wearing frillies. Maybe I should just post a selfie.

Then I read LisaNotes’ post about Lent.

Lent starts today.


and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him.