You won’t believe what Sebastian is covered in!

You won’t believe what Sebastian is covered in!

Hi,

Sebastian, my personal trainer, was standing in my kitchen, looking distraught. It’s not a good look for a slim man in spandex. He’d cycled over to my place for a coffee.

“The stuff’s everywhere,” he moaned. “I can’t move in my apartment, there’s so much Jiz everywhere!”

“I’m sorry?” I said, adjusting the peach colored silk robe I was wearing. I had just waxed my legs and chest and the soft silk felt magnificent on my skin.

“It’s all over the place!” He went on.

“Sebastian,” I said, “What on earth are you talking about?”

“It’s the week of the Junior and Intermediate Zumba challenge. Everyone down at the gym enters.”

“Is that a ‘thing’?” I asked.

“I get to do the Jiz thing every year, and every year it’s a nightmare. I just get overwhelmed. And this year, honestly, I think I’ve taken as much as I can take. I’ve bitten off more than I can chew and I’m practically choking on it!”

“I believe the expression is ‘gagging’.” I added, helpfully.

“All the other personal trainers down at the gym leave it to me, and every year I just get sucked in!”

“I wonder why,” I said rhetorically.

“My whole place is covered in the stuff to arrange it, costumes, posters. I even had to design them myself.” Sebastian reached into his back pack and brought out a folded-up poster.

“Oh, Let me see it,” I said trying to sound enthusiastic.

“Yes, of course.  Your friend Amanda helped me with it.”

“Amanda is my wife’s friend,” I pointed out. Because she edits a trade publication, Pig And Pig Farmer, Amanda considers herself something of a media mogul. I think you’ll agree that’s a bit of a stretch.

Sebastian unfolded the poster. An image of two young dancers, breathlessly whirling across the floor filled the page, with the headline, “It’s Jiz Time! You’ll be glad you came.”

Sebastian looked at it thoughtfully. “They wouldn’t let me put it up at Starbucks. They got quite snotty about it.”

“I wonder why,” I said.

But that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you today.  It’s going to be spring soon, so it’s time to start getting ready with some new looks for Spring. I thought I’d make a couple of suggestions, to help you along.

Spring is a time to emphasise the soft pastels, using both cosmetics and clothes that lift and brighten their surroundings. This is a great time, if you don’t dress outside of the house, to bring some more feminine colors into your selection of clothes that you’d wear day to day.

If you wear glasses, think about getting a pair that are softer and more blended to your skin. Be prepared to experiment with your daily look, softening it with colors that convey gentle forms. Hard black frames may be better replaced with a softer color, for example.

As you color your life more gently, you may be surprised to find yourself feeling more gentle. You’re going to love that. You may well find that wearing pastels and muted colors contributes to a more gentle mood, and as you look the way you know you should, you start to feel the way you should, too.

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

Have a great week,

🙂

Fiona

Bernard is choking on Sebastian’s sausage.

The other night Bernard was being uncharacteristically quiet at the table in the restaurant, with my friends and I enjoying the New Year celebrations. Sylvester and Ali were laughing. I remember, particularly, as I was explaining that while in Australia last year, between photoshoots, I had been diving and had been describing the various merits of the sea cucumber. Bernard had been on the trip, though since his transplant has not been doing much diving.

We were enjoying a wonderful meal at a restaurant in the heart of Montreal which served favorite dishes from around the world. Sebastian had ordered the German Sausage, and shared some of it with Bernard. The succulent meat was exquisitely prepared, and Bernard tucked into it with gusto.

That was when I noticed Bernard changing color. “Are you alright?” I asked. When there came no reply I felt a wave of panic sweep over me. It’s only a few short weeks since Bernard’s operation.

If you’re a regular reading of my material you’ll know that Amanda is not my favorite person on the planet. It was only as a favor to my wife that I invited her to join us for dinner. My wife is on one of her trips. This is a charitable one, I believe. If I remember rightly she’s feeding the hungry in Africa, or something. Maybe it’s the Africans in Hungary. It’s so hard to keep track of her. She has such a big heart. Before leaving on her mission of mercy she had made me promise to take Amanda out with us for dinner on New Years eve.

I remember very vividly, as that night I had chosen to wear a mid blue evening dress, with a bodice that laced up behind, and matching blue heels. The blue was a very particular shade, and as I watched Bernard he gradually changed color to a matching hue.

“What on earth is the matter with Bernard,” I said and looked at Sylvester.

“Search me,” answered Sylvester.

Suddenly Amanda leapt to her enormous feet, and shouted “Heimlich manoeuvre!” For a woman of disturbing proportions she certainly can move swiftly. It reminded me of one of those National Geographic TV shows, about when hippos attack.

“Don’t worry,” she said to a terrified looking Bernard, who by now was clearly choking. “I’m a trained professional.”

I took a long sip of my wine, and said to Sylvester, “This should be interesting.”

Amanda was behind Bernard, wrapping her arms around him and began squeezing. Bernard shifted to a deeper shade of blue.

“That’s it Amanda, you need to reach around him,” said Sylvester.

“And then jerk him. You’ve got the idea,” I added helpfully. Amanda seemed to be thrusting powerfully with her hips, and Bernard looked increasingly alarmed.

A moment later his head jerked back and he coughed and his throat seemed to clear. I was most impressed by the whole thing. Amanda had indeed saved the day, and Bernard had made a new friend.

What a way to go into the New Year. So, if you feel like sharing, let me know what New Years Resolutions you plan to break this year.

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

🙂

Fiona

Enjoy this video about New Years resolutions!

Time for a Halloween touch up!

As Halloween approaches and the souls of the dead prepare to walk the earth, any number of my friends are preparing to dress up and wander the streets in the dark. Actually, now that I think about it, most weekends many of my friends spend their evenings doing precisely that regardless of the time of year.

I was conferring with Sylvester in my kitchen, examining a few articles of lingerie, trying to decide what best to wear for my Halloween night party. I finally decided on fishnet, stiletto heels and a bodice, with a steampunk look. Perfect.

I asked Sylvester what he planned to come as.

“I think Donald Trump, if I can find the right costume.”

“At this late stage, I’m not sure you’re going to be able to find a giant dick costume!” I said sympathetically.

At that very moment Amanda, my wife’s unbearable friend, arrived at the door and knocked so hard I felt sure the roof would cave in. She has all the grace and delicacy of a garbage truck.

She barrelled in, coughing and spluttering like a diesel engine that hadn’t been run in a while. Amanda then went on to tell us of the latest disaster to befall her. Amanda was coming by, fresh from her gynecologist. Now, if there was ever a job that requires a strong stomach, being Amanda’s gyny would be the top of that list. Apparently Amanda was in the midst of an exam, had a coughing fit and one way or another the poor man was taken off to hospital with a broken wrist!

I will spare you the details, but it was all rather distasteful. Then, just to make matters worse, Sylvester let slip that he was coming to my party, which so far we’d successfully kept secret from Amanda. She then promptly invited herself to the event!

Reluctantly I asked what she would be coming as.

“Well,” she said, expansively. “I think I’ll come as that CNN broadcaster that looks like me.”

Sylvester and I looked at one another, puzzled. I was thinking, maybe Lou Dobbs, but he’s with Fox now. Maybe Wolf Blitzer?

“You know,” she persisted. “The blonde. Megan whats-her-name…”

“Megan Kelly?”  I asked.

“That’s her,” said Amanda.

“Oh,” I said. “The likeness is uncanny.” Megan Kelly looks about as much like Amanda as a carrot resembles plague.

“Well,” I said. “If you stand next to Sylvester as Donald Trump, all you need do to look like Megan Kelly is wear any form of period costume.”

But, that’s not the main reason I am writing to you. I recently had a delightful email from Brandi, in Yakima, WA in which she enclosed a great face pic which she had touched up using an app called YouCam Makeup- Makeover Studio. I’m sure we all appreciate a good touch up, don’t we? So this week I am offering a free membership of my Little Black Book to the best retouched Halloween pic which uses YouCam or another similar makeup type filter. Keep in mind that any pics you send in may end up on the website – so don’t be surprised if I place them there!

Have a wonderful Halloween, and at this time of year – when so many of us are having so much fun – spare a thought for Amanda’s gynecologist!

🙂

Fiona

Amanda asked me to do her a favor…

It’s true.  The queen of tweed is at it again. If it’s not putting her up while her house is being fumigated, it’s something else.

Whilst the thought of putting anything up Amanda is disturbing in the extreme, I am not above helping my wife’s irritating friend. She asked for an idea to help advertise the magazine she edits, Pig And Pig Farmer weekly.

I hope you enjoy it. By the way, I am a little surprised to find myself being asked from time to time if I know where people can subscribe to the magazine. It would appear Amanda has quite a following.

🙂

Fiona

 

 

You won’t believe what I found on my doorstep.

On the whole I do not approve of large people with too much facial hair looming in my doorway. Even more so at 3 am.

That was the sight that greeted me this morning. I enjoy my beauty sleep, most of all to protect my looks, but also so I am fresh in the morning to write to my members. And last night, as my very understanding wife was once again traveling, this time at a conference in somewhere called Poughkeepsie, I was enjoying a night of calm sleep wearing a burgundy camisole. When I heard the chiming of the door bell, I pulled on a thick robe and went downstairs to find the henge-like form of Amanda, my wife’s appalling friend, blocking the doorway, like a couch abandoned by someone who had been trying to get it through a door that was marginally too small.

Amanda was whimpering and mewling, upset about something. Often she comes over to talk to my wife at the oddest of hours. I do my best to keep out of the way when this happens, as Amanda seeps fluids from her body prodigiously, crying for the least of reasons. Whilst I am not without sympathy, I do find myself rather at a loss. What should I do? Put my arms around her? I simply don’t have the reach.

“What on earth’s the matter,” I said to the sobbing form before me. Amanda barged her way into the house, “I simply have to see your wife.”

“I’m sorry,” I said trying to look sympathetic. “She’s in Poughkeepsie.”

“Now, don’t be like that. I know you’re not telling the truth!” Her lower lip was quivering with emotion.

“Really,” I protested. “She is. There’s a conference.”

“I don’t believe it. In fact I don’t even think there’s such a place. It sounds made up. It’s like that time you told me that The Seventh Seal was a film about seal culling. You’re beastly to me sometimes!”

“I’m sorry, but really she is away. Can I help you?”

“I hardly think you’ll understand,” said Amanda.

“Try me,” I said reluctantly.

I shall summarize the issue. Amanda works as an editor on a trade publication. From the way she talks about her writing process, you’d think she worked at The New Yorker, not Pig And Pig Farmer Monthly – The trade publication of the pig farming industry. Anyway, her magazine has recently gone through a rebranding exercise and the latest edition has had a make over (there’s a joke in there somewhere), and has a new typeface in the masthead. To cut a long story short this months publication when out with the old masthead (if you don’t know what that is, really I wouldn’t worry). This was an error that, as editor,  she should have caught, but it slipped through. The publication was already in the mail by late yesterday night, and Amanda only discovered the problem as she thumbed through the latest copy before going to sleep. She had been tearing herself up about it all night.

“I hardly think the world will stop revolving just because you used Arial, rather than Verdana as a typeface, Amanda,” I said. “There may be some stern words exchanged over the trough, around the stys of the Midwest, but I think it’s an understandable error.”

Amanda disintegrated in a heap of tears, her massive bosom heaving and barely restrained by the industrial strength bra she wears. Before meeting Amanda I had no idea Carhartt – www.carhartt.com/  – made bras. For some reason it puts me in mind of The Hoover Dam.

I calmed the distraught woman down. The only reason I mention it is that throughout the process, she had absolutely no idea that beneath my pale blue robe I was wearing the most feminine of camisoles.

That, however is not the main reason I am writing. I wanted you to be aware of my latest hypnosis file which can be found on Youtube here:https://youtu.be/XREP5gHUypA

This is a cool file if you are interested in trying out a nice new look incorporating a mini skirt. If you’ve never tried this, have a listen to the file and see how you get along. As ever I would be delighted to see some pics.

Many of you receiving this are already in my Premium Program. If you are not, be sure to think about signing up soon!

🙂

Fiona

PS. If you need a free subscription to Pig And Pig Farmer Monthly please be sure to let me know. I can hook you up!

Bernard gets an injection of energy.

All I am going to say is that “Accidents happen”. Unfortunately sometimes they happen in disturbing ways.

tumblr_o7duvzEzrK1udir1co1_500This month we have a great competition for you for “Playtime with Fiona”. The competition is very simple and there are two $35 Premium Program memberships up for grabs. The first will go to the person with the best photo and funny story about crossdressing. Bernard, my photographer, will do the judging – so blame him, not me! The second of the two Premium Programs will be awarded to an entry selected at random. If you don’t pass in the photo don’t worry. We’re looking for a fun pic, and that may outweigh the glamour quality.

Be sure to send in your enties to my email – fdobson@zoho.com – before midnight on August 31st. I will see Bernard does the draw soon after that.

I have to say, Bernard is a great photographer but can be a little jumpy at times. This is a condition that was definitely not helped by a rather unfortunate situation that developed recently. Amanda, my wife’s appalling friend, had been chatting with her on the phone looking for beauty tips. For those of you who know anything about Amanda, the queen of tweed, you’ll understand this would have to be a very wide ranging conversation. Not so much a discussion about a make over, and more about complete reconstruction.

As Amanda went bleating on, my wife idly made a note on a Post It note in front of her. “Coffee Enema.” The conversation went on and on, and eventually, when it was over, the note got left on the kitchen counter.

I would have forgotten about it, except that it somehow got attached to a notebook I often use, and just stayed stuck to the back of it for a while.

Some days later I was at Bernard’s studio doing a shoot, and when we’d finished he asked me how I manage to keep my skin so clear. I was about to answer him when his phone rang and he had to take a call. As I finished dressing I jotted down a couple of things on a Post It note. I wrote, “Facial exercises, sauna and moisturize.” Then, as I was leaving, I mouthed to Bernard “3 times a day!”

I had left my notebook on his desk, and I just slaped the Post It note onto his desk and made for the door and headed back to work at the agency.

Two weeks later I was back at the studio, and Bernard was glowing with good health and bouncing about the place.

“I am loving this beauty regime,” he ranted. “It’s amazing. I’ve never felt so energized.”

“Oh,” I said as I changed into another dress for the shoot. “I am glad to be of help.”

As I stepped out of the changing room Bernard was setting the lighting up, and taking light readings. I glanced at his desk as he busied himself with his equipment. On his desk was my note, and next to it my wife’s, saying “Coffee enema.” The notes had a big red circle around them and in Bernard’s beautiful German script beside them, the words “Three times daily.”

I thought I should let sleeping dogs lie. With that much caffeine in his system I couldn’t help wondering how Bernard was still alive, never mind sleeping.

That, however, is not the main reason I am writing. Obviously I’d love to hear your stories and see your pics. The best will likely end up on my website, so please remember not to use any real names or details that might identify anyone.

Did you know you can probe my Inbox by listening to one of my Youtube videos here: https://youtu.be/Nrkq0UAf4QU

Have a great weekend.

🙂

Fiona

Hannibal the vibrating Dachshund.

What a strange and disturbing week it has been. Sometimes it takes more than lipstick to keep that smile in place. And yet we do, and the world is still a wonderful place.

Some of you may be aware of my wife’s good friend Amanda, the queen of tweed. As you may remember, she stayed at our house a few weeks ago while her house was being fumigated.

tumblr_o9a40kUvwr1sq920to1_500Well, Amanda had left a few things at our house and I agreed to take them over to her house. It was not so far off my track as I was walking Hannibal, my pet dachshund, so it was no bother. When I arrived at her house in the early evening the other day I was surprised to find I had arrived while she was taking a shower. She appeared at her doorway looking like a giant panda, in a black and white dressing gown and after letting me in, she asked me to wait in the living room as she slipped into something more comfortable. This was a thought that was truly disturbing in it’s own way, but for my wife’s sake I waited patiently.

I waited, and Hannibal did his usual thing of nosing around the place. To my surprise he was preoccupied with something underneath her couch, and while Amanda got dressed in her bedroom. I waited patiently, listening to the snuffling sounds coming from under the couch, until I was a little disturbed to hear a particular humming sound emanating from beneath the furniture.

A moment later Hannibal appear clutching what can only be described as an adult toy between his teeth. He was chewing its silicon form and seemed very surprised that it was fighting back, vibrating away in his mouth. To be fair, his surprise was understandable, the device being almost as large as he is.

Wanting to avoid the embarrassment of Amanda finding Hannibal playing with a personal possession, I tried to grab the object, but thinking this was a game he took off, running first into the kitchen and then into Amanda’s basement. I gingerly followed, cursing his minute form and enormous curiousity.

It was only when I cornered Hannibal that I could wrestle the object from him, at which point I heard Amanda’s enormous feet descending the stairs. I slipped the toy into my pocket and found my way back to the living room as Amanda walked in.

“I’m so sorry to have kept you, it’s simply lovely of you to bring these things over…” There was an awkward pause. I realized Amanda was staring at my jeans.

“Really, it’s no trouble,” I said. I like to wear tight figure hugging jeans, and usually a pastel tee shirt. It’s a fairly androgynous look, and I find it works if I am not dressing in my femme style.

“Goodness,” said Amanda, unable to avert her eyes from my pants. I glanced at myself and saw the clear and defined outline of the toy. To Amanda I must have appeared extremely glad to see her.

“I should be going,” I said awkwardly, my mind racing, trying to sidle toward the door, and noticing Amanda seemed to be getting between me and the only exit.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I think I’m seeing a new side of you. I am beginning to understand what Maggie sees in you. Perhaps you want to stay a while. A drink perhaps?”

Amanda’s eyes were unashamedly devouring my groin, drawn to my physique by the enormous toy in my pocket.

“I really must go,” I said, trying to hide my aparently enormous embarrasment.

“Oh, no. Before you do, I have that book Maggie was asking to borrow. Let me get it for you!” Amanda rushed off and in a moment I had pushed the device under the sofa, and was turning to walk to the door when Hannibal realized the toy was once again in play. To Hannibal, this is a challenge, first to find it and then to run around with it until someone catches him. To my horror he scurried under the sofa and just as Amanda returned, Hannibal emerged from beneath the furniture with a powerful buzzing sound, moving backwards across the hardwood floor being quite literally vibrated around the room.

“Hannibal,” I said, feigning surprise. “What on earth have you got there?”

There was an awkward chase, culminating in Amanda relieving a strangely satisfied dachshund of the object, and I grabbed the book and headed straight for the door, leaving an embarrassed and confused Amanda to her own devices – literally.

However that is not the main reason I am writing this. I’ve just put up a new episode of “Playtime With Fiona” on Soundcloud. You can listen to this one, which will give you a little help with how you do your eyeliner, and let me know how you get along. Listen HERE.

I’d love to see you in my Premium Program soon. I think you know you’ll enjoy it.

Fiona