The Gender Spectrum And Your Box.

The Gender Spectrum And Your Box.

At last, the weekend. It was very busy this week at the advertising agency, and Max, my next door neighbors 19 year old son, joined me to ‘job shadow’. He’s been following me around (no change there!) to see what I get up to and see if perhaps after he finishes college he should consider a career in the world of advertising.

Unfortunately, he chose to job shadow the week we are moving offices. All the same he made himself very useful, his muscly arms being put to good use helping pack up my office.  I have some lovely plants in the office, and made sure they were all packed nicely in a big chest, so they would survive the move.

“Would you like me to drill your box?” Asked Max, as I was stretching over the desk, reaching to unplug a phone.

“I’m sorry?” I said, a little perplexed. Max has always had what might be described as a healthy curiosity about my body, but this seemed uncharacteristically forward.

“Drill your box? Holes,” he said.

I looked very puzzled at him.

“You know, so the plants get more air.”

I realised he was talking about the big box I was using to move the plants. Better air flow would indeed help them.

“Max, you are such a good boy. You go right ahead and drill what ever you need to,” I told him.

That, however is not the main reason I decided to send this message. I decided to send a quick note to tell you about a great BBC radio broadcast I think you may enjoy. It’s an investigation into the idea of gender. I think you may find it every bit as fascinating as I did. It touches on the idea of gender not only being more complex but actually completely fluid.

You can listen to it here: Do We Have Enough Genders? http://bbc.in/23v0LRz

Let me know what you think of it.

Fiona

Unhand that banana!

Hi,

Seldom, if ever, do I like to come between friends (calm down Amber, in Colorado). Yet this morning I came down the stairs having had a refreshing shower to find Sylvester shaking Sebastian vigorously by the neck. I leaped in, interposing myself (phrasing) between them, my colorful summer swing dress swishing about me.

“Calm down, boys!” I said, as I struggled to hold them apart.

“I will not calm down!” said Sylvester, still fuming. “He said he wants me in a three way!”

I glanced at Sebastian. I’d always had my suspicions. He glared at me, Sylvester’s grip loosening.

“Sylvester, I think you should put Sebastian down. He’s gone a funny color. Besides, you might enjoy…”

“I was trying to explain three way calling,” chimed in Sebastian, as the color came back to his face. “All I said was, “would you like to join Max and I in a three way?””

 

“Well, I think I see where the confusion’s crept in,” I said. “Perhaps Max and you could help Sebastian get a little more utility from his smart phone. You know, Sylvester, I’ve seen your messages that end with that quaint little expression, “Sent from a phone that’s smarter than I am.” I think in your case it might well be true.”

Thirty minutes later Sylvester was being watched by three of us marveling as he attempted to open a Soundcloud song that had been shared over Watsapp.

“It’s quite remarkable,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s like watching a monkey try to operate a type writer.”

“Come on, Sylvester. You’ve got 999,999 more tries to go! Given enough time,” said Sebastian very softly, “some people believe that enough monkeys would type the complete works of Shakespeare.”

You could almost feel the gears inside Sylvester’s head grinding. He frowned again, and prodded the file in the Watsapp window.

“999,998.” Said Sebastian softly.

Max moved toward the fruit bowl, so kindly made by one of my members, and reached for a banana.

“Don’t,” I said to Max reproachfully.

But that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you today. I thought I’d share a rather wonderful BBC article with you. In this piece about the people of Guna Yala, their unusual lifestyle is examined. As a child develops they are allowed to move toward a more male or female orientation. While this is still essentially binary in nature there is clearly a more equal approach to gender. There is also a greater choice in how the Guna present themselves. It’s a fascinating read and I hope you enjoy it.

As summer moves toward its close, you may like to think about a lovely swing dress.  You can find some ideas here. There’s also an opportunity there to help out Sebastian’s sister, who’s got herself into a bit of a bind. Maybe you’ve got an idea how to help her out.

Don’t forget, we’ve started one on one coaching sessions, and our Premium Program is growing all the time.

Have a lovely week,

🙂

Fiona

Continue reading “Unhand that banana!”

Playtime With Fiona 5 – Come and check out my bush!

Such goings on about the place!

Few sights can be more disturbing than Amanda, my wife’s hideous friend, in a two piece bathing suit. It was this unsettling image that greeted me when I arrived home this afternoon following a photoshoot with Bernard at the advertising agency.

Amanda was in our back garden, trying to tan her body, in much the same way that if you leave a piece of leather in the sun it becomes hardened and cracked. As I let Hannibal, my little black and brown Dachshund, out into the garden to my surprise he sprang across the grass and made a leap to bite Amanda’s bikini bottoms. As you can imagine, Amanda’s scream was so shrill you’d think someone were cutting through concrete with a rotary saw.

“Get him away! Get him away,” she screamed. Never before has so much flesh been restrained by so little fabric.

I sipped on my margarita as I watched Hannibal trying to pull the bikini from her. Then said, “Calm down,Amanda. He’s just being affectionate.”

In response Amanda started to run round the garden, arms flailing, with a dachshund hanging from her bum.

“Hannibal,” I mumbled, as I took another sip of my margarita.

“He’s gone rogue!” screamed Amanda.

The last I saw of her she was flapping away down the street, hotly pursued by Hannibal, who doubtless thought it a great game. I suspect I’ll be hearing more about this incident later.

That however, is not the main reason I am writing to you. Tonight is a warm Montreal evening, and it’s the perfect time to listen to the latest Youtube version of Playtime With Fiona. This weekends offering is a special one, and a little unusual. I know you’ll love it. This weekend is also the perfect weekend to experiment with some lighter summer shades of lipstick, a summer shade of eye shadow, and of course some new outfits for the beach or lake.

Feel free to share some pics. Don’t forget you can always submit a photo for me to share on the website here: http://fionadobson.com/your-pics/

Have a wonderful weekend.

Fiona

Fluid Movements.

As you are probably aware I lead a strange and varied existence. Since Angelina has returned to Los Angeles, I’ve been very busy and had a houseful of friends today. As luck would have it my personal trainer, Sebastian, brought a friend of his over for my workout, and we opted to do something a little different.  She was a delightful little thing and came to teach a yoga class.

This was wonderful, as I’ve recently bought some stunning new leggings, which when worn with a little pink tee shirt combines to make a lovely simple outfit. Misha, the yoga teacher also had cooked a delightful curry, which we enjoyed and then sat about talking for about an hour before laying out a few mats and beginning the class.

Now, I should point out that Sylvester, my mechanic, who had dropped by to help me with some lubrication issues, is something of a stranger to Yoga, but having enjoyed some curry, decided to join our little class. I also had Ali, my Syrian gardener join us. Bernard my photographer, happened to have come round for tea, still recovering from being Tazered and having a heart attack, also joined us.  It really was a full house.

Max, my neighbors 19 year old son, who I must say I find spending far too much time goggling at me, also took time to join us. It was quite a lovely group. I have on many occasions lately, noticed how Max has been looking at me. I think he’s given himself one too many selfies lately, if you get my drift. Can’t be good for the eyesight!

Sylvester shifted uneasily as he took up a ‘warrior 2’ pose, and Misha cooed that yoga is all about fluid movements. Bernard glanced at Sylvester, who lurched into another position, and grunted that the curry was taking care of the fluid movements – and quietly slipped off to the bathroom.

Ali was looking off into the far distance, very serenely, enjoying every moment. When Sylvester returned he adopted a pose that resembled a shed in a car park, more than it did a yoga position. That said, his body is very muscular. Almost Neanderthal, actually.

Max, positioned behind me as I adopted a forward fold from the hips, stared with adolescent lust. I couldn’t help thinking of the many handed god Vishnu, and how Max wouldn’t mind being him about now.

We did enjoy the class and as it wrapped up Misha told us all how she loved the yoga lifestyle. She teaches and also has a small business selling soaps and perfumes. She’s a very creative young lady.

“I’ve even released my own fragrance,” she commented.

Looking very uncomfortable with the situation, Sylvester added that he had as well, and hurried to the bathroom once more.

Life really is never dull!

If you have not already signed up for the Premium Program please consider doing so. I have some great exercises and tasks in there for all my gurls.  Before you know it you’ll have your ankles behind your ears and be enjoying fluid movements of your own!

I sincerely hope you are enjoying the news I share with you. You can participate and comment even more at http://FionaDobson.com
🙂

Fiona

Would you like to stuff my beaver?

Hi,

This morning, just as I was emerging from my morning yoga session, I was surprised to see Max (my neighbour’s son), huffing and puffing and coming in my rear entrance, a bundle of excited youthful anticipation. He was hurrying up the garden path, as I pulled up my yoga pants, and adjusted my hair.

Sebastian, my personal trainer, was as surprised as I was myself. He likes to come early to stretch me, as I’m sure my regular members are aware.

“Fiona,” said Max, bursting into my kitchen. “Can I take a look at your beaver?”

As you probably know, today is Canada Day. It’s a tradition in Huckleberry Close, to come over to my house on Canada Day, and look at my beaver, the centrepiece of the Canada Day party I always throw, to celebrate us throwing off the shackles of oppressive colonialism before Canada declared itself free of tyrannical rule from London. Actually, that’s not really true. We just all sort of agreed that we’d have a new flag and continue to be the friends we’ve always been. No one was being either tyrannical or oppressive, but it’s a good excuse for a party. And the centre piece of the party is my beaver, a stuffed animal that has become something of a mascot over the years. It’s traditional for us to enjoy some lovely Canadian Wines, from British Columbia (a place that is neither British nor Columbian), swap hockey stories and talk about Zamboni’s while apologizing to one another. We all eat poutine and make fun of people we love from Newfoundland, and generally act in an understated but quietly superior way, while listening to The Tragically Hip, 54 40, Five Man Electrical Band, Rush and many other great Canadian bands.

I told Max, “Darling, calm down. My beaver is open to everyone, just give me a moment to prepare it! You’ll get your turn. Just don’t get too excited. It’s Canada Day, you’ll have to pace yourself.”

We have so many wonderful traditions in Canada. Being Canadian means so many wonderful things to all the peoples of our country. We love our diversity, our first nations people and our ability not to elect a leader largely perceived as a psychopath and moron by the rest of the planet.

If Max gets over excited, of course, it will be over before it’s really started. It can happen to us all. I handed him a pot of maple syrup and suggested he put it out on the garden table while I went down to get the noble beast, and then he could examine my beaver to his hearts content.

This year’s wine of choice is Quill, a distinctive Rose from Vancouver Island, which is quite delightful and goes rather well with the short skirt I’m wearing. It’s light, a little cheeky and subtly stimulating.  The wine’s not bad either. I know we’ll be toasting Sylvester, who has decided to commit to a course learning to drive a Zamboni at the local hockey arena. I must get things ready for the party shortly, so this will be a short email.

It may come as a surprise to some of you, but Marjory (my delightful lesbian neighbor) got her hand stuck in my beaver recently while trying to replace some of the stuffing. She was wedged right in there! I know what you’re thinking, what was she of all people doing, jammed up there? Well, she does fancy herself as something of an amateur taxidermist. Strange woman. She’s from Alaska, you know. Eventually we got her hand out, but ever since she’s been acting most strangely. She’s said on more than one occasion that she wishes her hands were a little smaller. I can’t think why! It’s almost as though she’s never heard of lube. I understand it softens the skin nicely and taxidermists swear by it.

I hurried down to the basement and found my beaver, then carried it up to my garden table, already bathed in warm summer sunshine. In the sunlight I could see it has begun to look a little tired. I suppose one can not be surprised. After all, my beaver has been fingered by many over the passing years. And yet, surprisingly it continues to put a contented smile on many of my friends faces. However, I do believe a beaver should be well groomed and well presented. I will speak to my local taxidermist and have him restuff it later this month.

With this in mind I resolved to make a Canada Day offer to all my friends and members. Anyone who emails me with the words in the subject line “Fiona, I’ll stuff your beaver!” before the end of Canada Day, July 1st, can have a free membership to My Little Black Book. This is worth $2.95 a month for crossdressing gurls, and $4.95 a month to Admirers. So, get your digits moving and I can help get some more members in there. And of course, now you’ll be featured in The Fiona Dobson Crossdressing App, as a member of My Little Black Book, which has been downloaded by over 5000 crossdressers.

Have a wonderful week.

😊

Fiona

I kissed a gurl and I liked it.

Hi,

What a busy week it’s been here in Huckleberry Close. We’ve got a wonderful new installment of The Making Of A Mistress by Katia Thornwood, another episode in Oakley Dale’s advice column about How To Talk To Your Partner About Crossdressing, and of course all the fun of things going down in my kitchen. Today’s theme is a little unusual, being of a more Eastern European flavor.

But first, to Mildred of Colorado Springs. In reply to your question, I would suggest caution. I don’t think it’s a good idea to take your nephew to the US Mexican Border and abandon him. True, it’s not pleasant witnessing a six year old boy’s tantrum when he’s upset that mummy and daddy aren’t sending him to summer camp this year. However, abandoning the child at the border and suggesting he ask the nice man in the uniform about something called ‘asylum’ might be considered inhuman by some. Exposing him to a photo op and a kiss on the cheek from Melania Trump, on the other hand, would likely fall into the category of cruel and unusual punishment. By the way, if you’re interested in getting a cool T-shirt check this out. I have to say, kissing Eastern European women, in my experience, has often been a little like putting my tongue in an industrial vacuum cleaner that’s recently been used to clean up a toxic waste spill. Okay, I’m going to leave that one right there…

Of course, SebastianSylvesterMaxAliand I have all been watching the World Cup Soccer from Russia. We’ve also been getting some very interesting input from one of our Little Black Bookmembers, who toured in Russia and learned to speak the language some 20 years ago. Apparently she got about a great deal shortly after the fall of the wall, and found the experience strangely educating. She mentioned that she found it quite easy to master the local tongue. Among the most educational moments, she recalls, was when she was cornered by several members of the US Embassy staff, who took it on themselves to ‘debrief’ her in a Moscow hotel.  She tells me she was quite overcome. At least I think that’s what she said happened. Well, I guess we all serve our country in different ways!

Pictured above is Astrid, our special Sochi Soccer correspondent. She’s a very helpful student, who is helping us out. She’s studying Counselling Psychology, with a minor in Abattoir Management at Sochi University.

The other big news this week is that I opened up the membership of My Little Black Book to all who download The Fiona Dobson Crossdressing App. This means anyone who downloads the app can get access to the members listings free. If you wish to place a listing in the book, the price remains either $2.95 a month for Crossdressers, or $4.95 a month for Admirers. Anyone subscribing to My Little Black Book is now able to connect with over 5000 people who have downloaded the App. That’s a lot of crossdressers!

If you’re a loyal member of the my programs I would love to see you in My Little Black Book. If you’ve not done so already sign up here.

Have a wonderful week.

😊

Fiona

Download the App free today – and get daily updates. Download the Android App HERE.
You should probably be in my Premium Program.
Chastity Devices – Breast Forms – Wigs – Corsets

Are you reading the exciting adventures of Andy in “Clothes Maketh The Man”?

***Part 18 has just been released!***

Manipulated and taken advantage of by the evil Devina, Andy finds himself compromised into dressing. You’ll never believe what follows!
If you haven’t yet dived into the extraordinary serialised feminization adventure you can find it here:

Read the story – Clothes Maketh The Man http://fionadobson.com/clothes-maketh-the-man-part-1/

When was the first time you crossdressed? Do you remember the details? Check out one of our most popular sections on the website and read others experiences of the first time they crossdressed.

You can add your own story and find out how similar it is to others. If it’s an unusual story we may end up featuring it in our program.

My First Time

Lady Liberty.

Lady Liberty.

Hi,,
Every time I pull on a pair of panties, I am reminded of the hypocrisy of men in suits. These are the people who have looked critically at those of us who break conventions (often in a very soft lacy pair of panties), and yet who claim to know so much better than those of us on the lacy fringe of society.  These men in suits, who are so accomplished, have a total inability to pass a law requiring stronger background checks for gun owners – something 95% of adults (including gun owners) agree with.

It’s curious how some can be vocal about not allowing transgendered soldiers to serve, even though they are able, committed and willing – and yet these very same voices of moral rectitude fail to have the backbone to stand up and say “Actually, my children and I really do have a problem with you allowing every lunatic in the asylum to buy assault weapons.” Chief among these voices of righteousness is, of course, that of a man who got five deferments. Courage is not a word that seems to mean much to these people.

Those of us who see what is happening in the USA can only look on in sadness. No child should have to have ‘gun drills’ in school. It’s not normal. It’s unnecessary in the rest of the world. We look, shake our heads in consternation and say “Why?”. The rest of the modern world has got this right.

While many of my members have had to have the courage to accept themselves (a courage for which no one gets any medals), I wonder if any members of Congress have the courage to do the right thing, the thing they’re elected to do, and represent their members and stand up to the NRA. Fear of being criticized by the 5% is just too much for them. A Congress without the moral backbone required to protect our children seems to be one of little value to anyone.

When one explores the unusual sides of who we are, there’s a courage required that can only be accessed when one has total honesty with oneself. These ‘small acts of courage’ so outweigh what we see from some leaders that their words seem increasingly hollow, which wouldn’t matter much – accept that this is about the safety of our children we’re discussing. The words now need to be backed up with actions. Without that, all the men in suits are, are cowards.

I was surprised to find Sylvester, Max and Bernard rehearsing with their band in my garage this week.  How they come to have free rein throughout my house is a mystery to me. They use my expansive garage as a rehearsal space, since my wife’s car is still at the airport. She’s travelling, and is currently in Iceland, like everyone else these days.

It’s the time of year at which we usually have the Huckleberry Close talent show. This is a local fundraiser for the community centre and something I like to take part in. This year I’m helping the local Girl Guides put on some songs from Pirates Of Penzance. During rehearsals this week I got stuck in the props cupboard with one of the other parents while getting a Jolly Roger. Most embarrassing.

The sounds coming from the garage were a little disturbing. As you may know, Sylvester is a large man, rides a Harley and would look quite at home in the lineup of Metallica or Kiss. When he opens his mouth to sing, and the sound that comes out is a falsetto high pitched melody, it’s a little surprising.

After listening for a little while, I thought I should point something out to Sylvester.

“I never really thought of you as a protest singer, Sylvester.”

“I have many talents that are unappreciated by others,” he chimed in.

“All the same, do you think the line, “Bring me your huddled masses, except if they’re Muslim,” is really appropriate?  And this part, “We’ll give them a gun, but not a vote,” it seems a little inflammatory.”

“But it’s time our voices were heard,” said Sylvester passionately.

“I’m not sure the people you’re trying to reach are going to be attending the Huckleberry Close Talent Show. Well, I guess you never know who might drop by.”

“You don’t like the statue of Liberty reference?” said Sylvester looking a little disappointed.

“You know it was given to the new republic by the French?”

“Of course,” said Sylvester. “They’ve got lot’s of good things we could benefit from.”

“Military parades,” chimed in Max, while he adjusted one of the amplifiers and fiddled with a keyboard.

“Shut up, Max!” I said sharply.  “It just strikes me that if you were lift that statue’s nightdress, you might find more than you expected. Just sayin’.”

“X-rays,” said Max.

“Pardon?” I said.

“They invented X-rays – the French. Marie Curie. You can do all sorts of cool things with X-rays!”

“What are you on about?” I said testily. “You don’t ‘invent’ x-rays. You discover them.”

“You can’t X-ray the Statue Of Liberty,” said Sylvester, helpfully.

“But you can X-ray someone’s ankle to see if they’ve got bone spurs,” retorted Max.

I felt I should leave, and headed back to my kitchen. It was definitely time for a glass of that South African Cabernet Sauvignon. Besides, I have to reply to five emails, which by chance is the exact number of deferments…

Ah, listening to the band rehearse I can see they’re going with slightly easier sentiments. The sound is drifting in through the kitchen window. I shall post the song below. I think it’s one Sylvester wrote for me.

But that’s not the main reason I am writing. I would love to encourage you to join my Premium Program. Don’t worry, not all the tasks and hypnosis sessions are as long and convoluted as this email. I think I can honestly say that the Premium Program is all about getting you to understand yourself and crossdressing at a healthy and enjoyable level. I receive some lovely emails about it, and always value the kind words my members share.

I’d love to see you sign up, if you haven’t already. It really does give you a chance to accept yourself as you are, and create yourself as you desire.

Wishing you the courage you need everyday.

😊

Fiona

Download the App free today – and get daily updates. Download the Android App HERE.
Meaningless Songs In Very High Voices.
Chastity Devices – Breast Forms – Wigs – Corsets

Max is getting busy.

Hi,

Max has been busy up in his bedroom this week, his hands a blur on the keyboard, as he works away like a busy little beaver upgrading parts of My Little Black Book. At least I think that’s what he’s doing up there.

“I hope you’re banging away at this. You know how much I want to get it up,” I told him.

He gets very intense when he’s working away at the computer. He works up quite a sweat sometimes, and even has to towel himself off.

“Oh, yes. I swear if I keep doing this I’m going to go blind!”

“What do you mean,” I asked.

“I’m spending so much time in front of the screen…”

“Oh, I see.”

Max is adding some chat functionality to My Little Black Book, so members can participate in an open chat with anyone else online. It’s in it’s beta test stage at present, but should be complete in about a week. Feel free to go in and play around with it, if you are a member. If not, you can join for a monthly fee of just $2.95 as a CD or $4.95 as an admirer.

As you know, Max has recently started working with my wife’s appalling friend, Amanda on Pig and Pig Farmer Weekly. You’d think she could find a busy beaver of her own, wouldn’t you? Instead Max is burning the candle at both ends.

However, that’s not the only reason I’m writing to you today.  I am so excited to tell you about some lovely new bras specifically for crossdressers that are coming on my radar. Several of my members having been trying out some of the ones available on my site and coming back with great feedback.

Mildred from Colorado Springs writes “My breasts are now bigger than those of most of the women I find attractive. I so want to find a suitable bra, but get very worried about buying them locally. I’m very shy and I feel there’s very little customer support for someone like me!”

Mildred, as you know bras are all about support. And there’s no reason in the world why you shouldn’t have a nice silky or lacy bra to wear either beneath your clothes at home – or all day for that matter. Here’s a link to my website that will help you find bras specifically designed for gurls like us. http://fionadobson.com/clothes/bra-gurl-like/    Have a browse around. The more you explore the more you’ll be able to nip those fears in the bud!

Thank you for the lovely comments I got about the Ghost story I wrote. The Foreshore Light went down well for many of my members.

Have a wonderful weekend, and if you check us out online you’ll likely find Julie or myself answering questions there this weekend and most evenings this week. Just look for the pop up box saying we’re there, and join us for a chat!

😊

Fiona

Continue reading “Max is getting busy.”

Strip Twister? Huh?

 ‘Imagine,’ Julie said, ‘if our Little Black Book members could post a chat message with a pic of themselves right there.’

I should say that on Julie’s insistence we’ve been playing a very intricate game of Twister with Sylvester and Sebastian. Now, I must admit that while Sebastian is very flexible, Sylvester is about as loose limbed as a fridge. In fact, now that I think about it, I have compared Sylvester to a fridge on several occasions.

Julie, by the way has a very mischievous way of playing Twister. It’s quite simple. She calls it Strip Twister, and one can only touch the floor with one’s hands or feet. Any slip up results in the loss of an article of clothing. Now, imagine that image uploaded to My Little Black Book.

Max was so intrigued by the idea that he got to work on it and now we have exactly what Julie was looking for. You can now log in to My Little Black Bookand chat with others, and upload images of yourself in the middle of a Strip Twister game, or anything else you feel like.

Don’t worry, the images scroll off after a while. You might post what you’re wearing right now, or how you’re doing some eye makeup or even a pic of your cat in drag, if that’s your thing… (Ilena!).

If you’re not already a member of My Little Black Book and would like to join the fun, why not go and sign up tonight.  You never know what’s going to pop up next!

Now, Sylvester is trying to get his leg over Julie. I think I’d better intervene.

😊

Fiona

Chastity Devices – Breast Forms – Wigs – Corsets


Continuing crossdressing adventures, and leotards!

Hi,

I am pleased to report that Bernard is making a slow but healthy recovery and seems to be over the worst after his unfortunate encounter with a carrot. I visited him this morning and when I arrived home from the hospital I found my wife’s appalling friend Amanda at my house. Max had let her in, something I’d warned him about, but he seemed to have forgotten. I was a little irritated as I had a lot on, and had to get to a jazzercise class which would start shortly.

As I hurried in Max silently mouthed his apology.

“Hello, Amanda,” I said as I heard her beige trouser suit rustle in my direction and she appeared from the living room. “Have you been having fun on the newsdesk?”

“Why, what have you heard?” she replied nervously.

I couldn’t really imagine what fun one could have on the newsdesk of Pig And Pig Farmer Weekly, but didn’t waste too much time thinking about it.

“I wasn’t expecting you today,” I said. Had I known she’d be coming I would have been out.

“Well, I thought I’d stop by. Leo’s with me today,” she said, and glanced over her shoulder into the living room.

I should explain, and I’d like to do this with the sympathy and delicacy this subject deserves, that Leo is what we used to call ‘developmentally disadvantaged.’ He is a very sweet young man, but has never really progressed beyond the early stages of mental development. Now, I should point out that in Canada we have a very inclusive approach to those less fortunate than ourselves, and we embrace those less able than the rest of us. It’s a point on which we stand with great national pride. Not withstanding my recent unfortunate episode with a homeless person, I believe we measure ourselves as a nation by how we treat the less fortunate. To us, universal healthcare at no cost whatsoever, for example, is an absolute no brainer. Which, in it’s way makes what happened this afternoon even more difficult to relate.

I made my apologies to Amanda and said I had to hurry to get ready for my Jazzercise class, and had to change, and so hurried upstairs. I had washed and prepared a few things, and as I gathered them together and put them in my bag, I realised I’d left some clothes lying in the living room.

I called down to Max, who came upstairs.

“Max,” I said, “I seem to have left some things in the living room. Some tights and a leotard, they’re probably in the living room. Can you be a sweetheart and see if you can find them. I think they may be lying over the back of the chair by the window.

With that I changed out of my office clothes and into a light summer dress. I’d slip into my dancewear at the studio.

It was then that I heard a commotion from downstairs, and the slamming of the front door. From my bedroom window I saw Amanda hurry to her Prius, and help her brother Leo into the passenger seat. I couldn’t think what had caused such a commotion, and a moment later Max was politely knocking on my bedroom door.

I opened it and stepped out.

“What on earth was that all about?” I asked.

“I think I must have said something to upset Amanda… I don’t know what I did. She just erupted.”

“Max, calm down. I’m sure it’s nothing.  Just tell me what you said.”

Max followed me downstairs, and recounted his words.

“I just walked into the living room and said to Amanda that you were changing upstairs and I had come down to find a leotard that was lying around in the living room.”

“That’s all you said?”

“Yes,” he said looking hurt.

“Those were your exact words?” I pressed him.

For a moment he closed his eyes, and then in a moment of reflection he said, “No, wait a moment… I came through that door, and then I said “Is there a leotard lying around in here?”… And that’s when she took off in a huff!”

“Oh,” I replied.  “You don’t think she thought you were referring to her brother, do you? I mean, his name is Leo… and he is… well, you know.”

We looked at each other ashamed of ourselves. I felt pretty sure I had an awkward phone call ahead to make to Amanda.

But that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you today. I thought I’d drop you a line and tell you about some of the spectacular leotards that you can find on my website. Yes, I know what you’re thinking. That’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it? They’re versatile and fun, and as you’ll see can be worn either in a very femme way, or quite an androgynous manner. Check out the page on my site that tells you about them and you’ll find they’re fun and can make you look great.

Till next week.

😊

Fiona

If your mum comes in while you’re watching this, switch to porn whatever you do. It’s just easier to explain away!

Fire and Furry.

I’m emailing you having just returned from the heart unit, where I am happy to relate that Bernard is in the process of recovery from his rather unfortunate incident with a carrot.  This is much to the relief of Max, who for a moment thought he may have blood (or rather carrot juice) on his hands after shooting Bernard with the aid of Sebastian’s motorcycle. If this is all a bit confusing you may be able to catch up here.

I arrived home to find Sylvester sitting at my kitchen table looking more confused than a Trump supporter who had recently learned that he’d won a months free food at Hooters, only to discover that he had to complete a skill testing question asking him to calculate the area of a square measuring 2 inches by 2 inches, before being eligible to collect his prize. I asked Sylvester what could possibly be wrong.

“It’s this business with North Korea. My dad was out there years ago, and that didn’t go so well,” said Sylvester.

Now, in case you’ve been living under a rock – which might be the safest place to be under the circumstances – then you might be unaware that people are talking about the possibility of nuclear war. At times like this one is forced to ask the big questions. ‘What’s it all for?’, and ‘Isn’t there hope for humanity?’, and ‘What does one really wear for Armageddon?’.

As I looked down at my troubled friend, I was forced to conclude that one should always look on the bright side, and dress up for the occasion. Seeing Sylvester’s legs, also brought something else to mind, and consider that this is a man who looks like a gorilla and a fridge got together and created a baby.
I am of course talking about the need to deal with body hair when one crossdresses. The need to look one’s best supersedes all other considerations as the nuclear clock ticks toward midnight. Sylvester’s legs are very hairy, and if one is to meet one’s end looking fabulous either waxing it off, or at least disguising the body hair is a great place to start.

Not all of my members are able to shave their legs. For those who discretely dress without the knowledge of their partners, suddenly appearing without leg hair may be something of a give away. One member did successfully claim that their new swimming regime required them to remove as much body hair as possible, but this isn’t going to fly for some members.

In the quest to disguise body hair the fishnet pantyhose are your friends. Better still, try a fishnet body stocking. No one should be without one, in my opinion. If you’re unable to find one locally, you can follow this link and order one on my website.

So, the question remains, faced with the unpleasant eventuality of nuclear annihilation, what would your outfit be? Personally, I think nice summer dress and some heels, pretty pink bra and panties. Feel free to let me know.

Now don’t forget, you can now join My Little Black Book for just $2.95 a month by using this link – https://gumroad.com/l/mMgcZ.  Be sure to let me know once you’ve paid and I’ll get you set up.

😊

Fiona

Bernard goes beyond.

Hi,

Well, I’m sure you’re aware of the latest events around Bernard being shot in the chest with a carrot – if not you can catch up here – which has left us all very worried about his health.

To get you up to date, it wasn’t until several hours after he’d been carted off in the ambulance, following Max getting so upset about what he described as Sebastian and I doing yoga ‘doggy style’in my garden, that I managed to get through to the emergency department. The head nurse left me on hold as she went to see what had happened to poor Bernard.

Now, as you likely know, Bernard recently had a heart transplant following a Tazering incident, and we were all most concerned that he may have been severely hurt by the flying vegetable. Additionally, Max was getting increasingly worried about the idea that he may have committed a crime.

I had the phone in my kitchen on speaker, as Max and I waited to be transferred. I remember the moment in some detail, as I had just finished freshening my nail polish and I couldn’t very well hold the cell. Really, though, that scarlet color is simply to die for!

I asked Max to paint my toe nails, as I waited on hold. I was standing there on one leg, my other foot on a bar stool, my tight leggings showing the well defined shape of my legs, as Max painted my toes. You know, you might think me a little cruel, but I do get a little thrill from the fact that his eyes would drift up my leg from time to time. Torturing the puppies is a secret pleasure of mine!

“Is that Fiona Dobson,” came the nurses voice.

“It most certainly is,” I replied.

“Yes, Ms. Dobson. Bernard has you listed as his primary contact.”

“Of course he does!” I said, attempting to keep the frustration from my voice.

“Well, Ms. Dobson, I’m sorry to tell you this…”

At that moment Max’s hand shakily managed to paint one of my toes.

“Just a moment,” I said, then turning to Max, “for goodness sake, Max. Please be more attentive!”

I turned back to the phone, “Go on, dear,” I said.

“Yes,” she continued, “I’m sorry but I have to tell you…”

“Max!” I shouted, as he slipped once more. “Do be careful!”

The nurse continued, “I’m sorry but Bernard is no longer with us.”

There was a pause, and Max fell pale. I took the phone off speaker mode, and said to the nurse, “But … How?”

“He’s no longer in the emergency department,” continued the nurse. “He’s been transferred to the Intensive Care Unit, he’s scheduled for heart surgery later today.”

Now, I am sure you know I am not an unkind individual. However, I do confess I thought briefly about leaving Max in his growing sense of panic. Mentally, he was already gathering a few things and ready to head to Mexico.

I arranged to visit in the morning, and hung up the phone.

“Don’t worry, Max. Bernard’s having surgery. I’m sure he’s got a good chance of a full recovery.  It was a nasty accident, that’s all. We can go to see him in the morning.”

With that, Sebastian entered the kitchen, doing his very best to be helpful. “I feel I should come, too. After all, it was my exhaust pipe from which he was hurt. I feel a kind of karmic obligation.”

“How thoughtful you are,” I said. “Max, my nails aren’t going to paint themselves!”

“Perhaps I could take him one of my nice recordings of relaxing sounds. That’s sure to make him feel better. Fiona, what’s the most relaxing sound you can think of. Whale song? The sound of the wind through a forest?”

“I think the sound of the door closing as Amanda leaves my house following one of her visits. That always leaves me feeling better,” I said.

“I think whale song might be more relaxing,” murmured Sebastian.

With that we did our best to put our fears for Bernard to rest. Max continued to do my toe nails and we resolved to visit the hospital the following morning.

And so it was that we decided to visit the following morning, Max and Sebastian bringing both guilt and karmic balance, and I some perfectly painted nails and a rather smart pleated skirt.

I shall let you know how things went next week.

Fiona

Max, we appreciate your service.

Before I go any further I would like to say that like my valued members I stand with all our brave people serving in the military regardless of color, gender or race. I strongly believe that anyone who has ever been exposed to the realities of conflict knows very well, we have other more important things to get on with, rather than focusing on distractions that do nothing but further the questionable agenda of one sad old man. Our servicemen protect our rights and freedoms – which is kind of the point, isn’t it?

I’ve received several emails from members of the services who are members of FionaDobson.com. All I can do is reassure them that their service is appreciated and that this will pass. Calmer heads will prevail.

Now, let me see if I can give you the short strokes to get you caught up with the exciting happenings here in Montreal. You may remember last weekBernard, my photographer, had been shot in the chest with a nefarious carrot. Unknown to me at the time Max had pushed the offending vegetable  up Sebastians exhaust pipe after becoming agitated while watching Sebastian and I doing yoga.

As the ambulance raced off Max sidled up to me, looking the picture of guilt ridden youth, and said “Fiona, there’s something you should know.”

I bent  down and picked up the carrot and frowned.

“What on earth is a carrot doing here?” I said, as the ambulance siren faded in the distance.

“Actually, I might know something about that…” said Max, where upon he told me the whole grissly story.

“But what on earth possessed you to put it there?” I asked.

“It was seeing the two of you in the garden. Seeing you do yoga, doggy style!”

“I think you mean downward dog. Well, these leggings don’t leave much to the imagination,” I mused.

At this point Sebastian, who had been inspecting his motorcycle for damage, wandered over.

“Pretty bad luck, that. You don’t often hear of someone being carroted to death.”

Several years ago a young man I was acquainted with had a nasty incident with a squash (that’s a marrow if you’re in the UK), but I thought it better not to mention it.

“You don’t think he’ll die, do you?” Asked Max.

“He was doing a pretty good impression of it, when he was choking here in the driveway, three minutes ago,” said Sebastian. “I always told him he should eat more vegetables.”

“He’s only just recovered from a heart transplant. I think the sooner we dispose of the evidence the better. Max, why don’t you get rid of that carrot and if anybody asks, the bike just backfired,  ok?”

“Why?” Said Max, looking genuinely niaive.

“Because, Max, if the wrong people ask questions, someone might get the idea you accidently murdered poor Bernard.”

“Urgh! Murdered?” Gasped Max.

Sebastian interjected at this point, “I’m not sure you can ‘accidentally’ murder someone.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Stammered Max.

“Of course you didn’t. But anyone dumb enough to believe that Bernard was shot in the chest with a carrot is dumb enough to believe it was murder. It’s better all round just to say there was a bang and Bernard collapsed.”

I handed Max the carrot. “I suggest you feed the evidence to your rabbit.”

😊

Fiona