Hey, I love Natalie. She’s not put anything out lately, but with the wealth of content she’s posted in the past I am sure we all appreciate the opportunity to revist some of her great philosophy and political content.
I was reminded of something I probably don’t say often enough recently, while chatting with one of my lovely members. Those of us who occupy the middle ground of the gender space, whether we consider ourselves trans, gender fluid or crossdressers, have to learn some unusual disciplines, and our ability to do so radically influences how well we will exist in society.
We are different. Some people get it, while others never will. This forces us to sometimes hide who we are, and it also results in strong feelings when we can speak our truth. However, our tool kit of disciplines can help us as we grapple with the challenges of life. Chief among these, in my experience is the ability to suspend our judgement of others, and equally to move past the judgement they put on us.
What a start to the New Year! Naturally I’m very excited about events in Washington. My connections there are strong and I’ve been hearing that there will be some new advisory boards and committees coming with the Biden administration, and several new faces. I’ve even been asked to sit on several.
Just the other day Sebastian and his sister, Rainbow, came over to my place to visit. Now, I should say we’re very careful about social distancing, so we sat in the garden and Ali brought us tea. He is a treasure, you know.
As we sat there planning out 2021 Rainbow pulled out a piece of paper and started reading to me a horoscope she’d put together. Now, as you probably know, I don’t really place much store by these things, but poor old Rainbow needs all the encouragement she can get at present. The yoga studio she works at recently closed down, as a result of Covid, and sales of her personally blended Kale and ginger protein shakes have not done as well as she’d like.
She read me my horoscope for 2021, which apparently includes challenges with communication (that’s worrying), some enlightening travel and overcoming feelings of isolation. I listened and sipped my Lady Grey tea, while I twisted a lock of my hair round my finger. It all sounded a little unlikely.
I would probably have forgotten all about it, had it not been for a rather surprising development the following day. One of the jobs Rainbow applied for online contacted her asking how soon she could start. She’s looking after some old place on the north coast. Naturally she was excited, agreed to start as soon as possible, and ended up flying the following afternoon to take up her new position.
I should probably have been alerted when Sebastian told me about the job after he’d dropped her at the airport.
“It said she’d be required to look after the place and do a little light house keeping,” said Sebastian with a concerned look on his face. “And they asked her if she had any marine experience.”
“And does she?” I asked.
“Well, she has a paddle board. She likes to do that sort of thing. She’s done some yoga on it while afloat. Pretty cool, really,” he mused. “When she asked what the Covid situation was they told her she’d not need to worry too much about that.”
The rather panicked email he later received made it clear that the job was not quite as she expected. It was a rather unfortunate grammatical error, but needless to say Rainbow now realises there’s a difference between ‘light house keeping’ and ‘lighthouse keeping’. Being the only person for 300 miles off the north coast of British Columbia will give her all the solitude one person can handle. It did make me think she’d perhaps mistaken the horoscope she read for me for her own. I’m told that when the weather clears up the location is quite beautiful. The weather forecast says she should expect things to clear up a bit by the end of April. I hope she took her paddle board.
But that is not the main reason I am writing. After long discussions with Katia Thornwood and Mistress Meg we’ve decided to release something special for the women in our members lives. Yes, we have a new program designed for Women Who Feminize Their Men. This is a wonderful program for any woman wanting to feminize and sissify their partner – with or without their knowledge. Yes, you read that right.
So, if you know someone who should be sissifying someone in their life, then please steer them toward this wonderful new offering. I am also including it in my Patreon and calling it the Nightingale Tier.
As we go into an inauguration week, and watch the chaos of a presidency we’d all rather forget recede slowly into the distance, don’t forget there really are brighter days ahead. We’ve all got rather used to chaos. That’s not normal and we’ll leave the craziness of the last days behind us before long.
When Jodi wants to remind her husband who the boss is she simply goes to the lingerie draw and pulls out a nice new gift wrapped box and hands it to him. Inside is his reward for being such a sensible man and doing as she wishes.
“He’s always the same. He can barely help himself,” she says from her Salt Lake City home. “He practically destroys the box as he’s trying to open it. I watch with a mixture of excitement and amusement. It’s quite fun seeing what a total slave he is to this.”
Find loads more information about how to feminize the man in your life just by searching for it here.
There are stories which we choose not to share, for one reason or another. Perhaps it is related to shame or embarrassment. Or maybe we just hold them so dear, that in sharing them they would become devalued.
A friend of mine recently acquired a rather unusual collection of note books which I feel sure you will be delighted to read. He was an elderly man, I will not give very many details, as I would not wish to identify him in any way.
Wrapped in brown paper, of the sort people used for parcels many years ago, these note books were dusty hand written relics. I can well imagine them being tossed out with the trash when someone moved house, or recycled along with old copies of magazines when clearing out a loft or basement.
My friend explained that they had been among some personal papers found in a house that was being sold. The contents of these papers were at first a mystery, then quite surprising – and ultimately quite shocking.
I am thrilled to release these notes in their original sordid and salacious form. They are available to all my Seahorse members – through my Patreon Pages. Be sure to sign up to my Patrion and enjoy these extraordinary documents.
As the New Year kicks into gear I am pleased to see Ali getting to grips with my garden. As you know, Ali is my Syrian gardener, and a recent immigrant to Canada. He is a diligent worker and has thrown himself into the task of managing my garden.
A university professor of botany in his home country, he has come to build a new life here in our country, along with his lovely wife and two delightful daughters. Here in Canada we welcome new friends from around the world, and embrace the chance to add to the deep culture of this diverse and remarkable country.
“We don’t have an equivalent of your ‘Santa Claus’,” he recently explained while we were working at preparing the greenhouse for this years plants. “Besides, anything flying over our airspace at low altitude stands a good chance of being shot down. And… well, reindeer meat… I think he’s well advised to respect the no-fly zone.”
“Be that as it may, Ali,” I said. “I’m most concerned about Amanda and Marjory. All through the Christmas season I barely saw them. I know it’s been harder this Christmas with the whole Covid thing, but you’d think she’d say hello over the garden fence.
“Fiona, they’ve been very busy. Amanda’s been there all week. And you know what they’re like,” replied Ali.
I don’t think Ali really approves of the nature of Amanda’s relationship with Marjory. Same sex partnerships are not exactly common place in Syria, on account of people not wanting to be stoned to death in the public square.
“All the noise and fuss they make,” said Ali. “It’s very disruptive.”
“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “You’ll get used to it. Besides, it must be nice to be in love.”
“They were making an Italian dish yesterday with the left over turkey,” he mused, while cleaning one of the planting beds in the greenhouse.
“That sounds lovely. One of the things I enjoy about Christmas is getting creative with all those meals using turkey in the days that follow. I had turkey curry yesterday, myself.”
“If I over heard it correctly, Amanda got her finger stuck in the pasta maker. It was quite disturbing,” said Ali.
“Oh,” I said surprised. “I thought Marjory made the pasta.”
“Yes,” replied Ali. “She does.”
But that’s not the main reason I am writing to you today, as we go into what I think we are all hoping is a more hopeful year than last. I understand many of us are finding it harder to dress during the lockdowns that we must inevitably endure. I also realise that this increases the stress for all of us, and I want to make a suggestion that I find has helped many of my members.
While it would be wonderful to be able to dress everyday, all day, many of my members are simply unable to do this. When it is impossible to dress, for whatever reason, there’s still the middle ground, of becoming more androgynous. This is a way to start shifting what you wear to something somewhat more feminine, though without being entirely crossdressed. If you get creative you’ll find ways to do this, and enjoy that middle ground in the gender spectrum.
It could be as simple as shifting the colors you wear. Pastel colors and moving away from hard contrast color patterns is somewhat more feminine and gentle. Equally, going for the lambswool sweater and softer fabrics is always more enjoyable.
For others it will be engaging a more feminine clothing style, without crossing the line. Nice jeans can bring out the shape of your legs, and if all you need to do is add heels to shift over the line, then you’re always just moments from being able to crossdress. Sometimes the only difference between dressing straight or crossdressed is the presence of eye makeup.
Let’s make 2021 a wonderful year. Don’t let Covid get you down. This is where we learn patience – a good lesson for anyone who is trans. If you’re struggling and haven’t done so already, remember my Whatsapp Group is a great way to connect with others and see yourself through this challenging time. Alternatively, remember there’s a host of entertaining stories right here. Be sure to enjoy the video below.
I have an affinity to beautiful birds. I like that the males have such extravagant plumage. And yet there is more that draws me to them.
Consider this. The cage, for most of us a symbol of constrained freedom, for birds is something more. I have opened the door of a cage and watched as they escape and find freedom. Can you imagine that moment, a loved pet fleeing to freedom through the opened cage door. A moment of panic, and then they are gone through an open window. All that fondness and happy memories gone in a flutter of wings.
And two hours later, as I look at the cage, there he is once more. Silently returning to his captivity. A warm sensation of relief in my tummy. Yet, it’s more than relief. It’s a sense of rewarded trust, for I left that door open quite willingly.
I trusted. And aren’t all good relationships based on trust?
Well, this is a story of trust. I think you will enjoy it. Perhaps so much so that you will play along with me. I will ask you to make this an interactive story.
That’s right, you can join in. I wonder if you dare. Well, there’s the opportunity for me to trust you… Let’s see how you do. Are you ready to play? I hope you’ll feel inclined to use the comments section in this post to let me know.
Mistress Katia Thornwood.
The Lovers – By Katia Thornwood.
Those of you who have been following me for a while know about Paulo, the sentimental poet, who got a little too lost in the compelling world of his Mistress. I am, as you know, all about balancing extremes, and so you can imagine my delight when the sorry little fellow finally got himself a girlfriend – Fern. An actual woman.
And it wasn’t his usual thing. Worshiping some completely unattainable woman from afar, and languishing in his own pathetically amusing pain. Such a typical poet. It’s a pity he has so much of the poet’s nature and so little of the poet’s talent. Not to worry though, his role is to suffer. Regardless, Fern is a real flesh and blood woman.
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
My goodness, if you could see what’s going on outside my window. I can hardly believe is! I’m standing here in my Christmas lingerie, and my heels, and quite shocked at what I can see going on out there!
Ali, my gardner has just told me, “It’s ok, Fiona. It’s just Sylvester and Max jacking off in the flower beds.”
Now, I know you can imagine me standing here in my flowing red silk robe, mouth open in surprise. I am staring out at the snowy Montreal scene, and everybody seems to be having a wonderful time! Oh, perhaps you should even be here!
Let me explain. I’m watching Sylvester’s muscle bound arm pumping up and down and Max, my next door neighbours 20 year old son laughing – I think he’s licking his fingers – yes, he’s spilled some Bailey’s Irish Cream on his hand, or at least I think that’s what it is. And Ali is watching, engrossed in the unfolding scene.
They’re laughing and very jolly, Sylvester’s face red with exertion, and he has a look of deep concentration. Apparently, Ali’s Smart Car slid off the drive in the snow as he pulled into the icy driveway. It slid into the flower bed, and onto a rock in the rockery. Max and Sylvester were already at my place enjoying a Christmas eve drink, and now the three of them are working away to lift the little vehicle off the rock and manhandle it back onto the drive. What Christmas excitement!
I should hurry along! Amanda, the queen of tweed will be here soon, and Bernard is coming over. My wife, sadly is travelling. She’s a slave to her job! In the meantime, we are a fun gang, all hoping that Christmas will go with a bang!
I know Sebastian wants to show me his mince pies and sausage. He has been making so many delightful treats lately.
I hope you have a lovely Christmas! Have a wonderful holiday and remember, be careful if you are driving in the snow. Otherwise you too might find yourself licking Irish cream from your fingers after jacking off in someone’s garden!
I’ve popped over to Fiona’s place to give her my diary entry. As luck would have it she’s having a little soiree and the liquor cabinet is unusually accessible. I’ve just dropped in to give Fiona this message.
So, as you may have guessed I am back from visiting St. Bernedette’s School For Gurls. You know, I do love to travel to South Africa, and life in the Natal foothills is really quite lovely. It’s a little like going back in time.
The post is still delivered by the nice young postman, and I often ride into the nearby town of Jabulani on horseback, along with Jack the handyman at the school. Jabulani is about five miles from the school, and a lovely ride in the Natal morning sunshine. The school has a small stable of a dozen horses. Every morning Jack and I would get some exercise taking one or two of the gurls and riding to town to bring back the fresh milk.
Those sultry mornings, with a little mist in the distance, climbing on the back of a well trained pony, and setting out across the veldt, it was quite beautiful. The gurls laughing and chasing along with me, Little Michaela, her ginger hair flowing behind her as we fly across the ground in the morning sun. Quite serene. And Jack the handyman trying to keep pace. He’s a little older, of course and we have to wait for him from time to time.
Once in the nearby village we’d put a few cartons of milk in our packs from the store, and then race back to the school stables. And of course finally we’d help Jack off his horse.
It all seems a million miles away from the cooler weather I have come back to. And Canada is really much more modern and genteel. Things in South Africa seem so much more, I suppose the word is ‘primal’. Everything is more literal and immediate. So, when one of the maids came to me and said they didn’t know what to do about the schools pet dog, ‘Cesar’ chasing after the postman every morning I pointed out that the best way to deal with that would obviously be to neuter him.
Well, as I explained to the poor man later, I had been referring to the dog when I said, ‘neuter him’. These things happen though. Best to move forward and not get bogged down in the details, though I do have some sympathy for the poor fellow.
How lovely it is to be back, though. My nieces and nephews have offered to help me get my Christmas tree up, and I’m looking forward to standing on a chair as my nephew Gerald looks up at me as I place a fairy on the top of the Christmas tree. How well dressed this tree really is. I suppose I should now turn my attentions to young Gerald.
How very kind he is to help me get it up. I’m sure, given the opportunity, you’d do the same.
But now I have to give this account to Max, who is going to post it online for me. He’s so much better at technology than I am. I shall go and sit on his knee and simper, it usually works with him, the little puppy! I’ll just stop off and refill my coffee cup with Bailey’s.
What a very strange Christmas it’s sure to be this year. Normally by now I would have enjoyed our Christmas Curling League, where I often help out at the local recreation centre. There’s few things I find more enjoyable that scoring with the boys in the club. I have all the statistics for the members, and often at this time of year I can be found scoring with their figures spread out on the desk. But this year, of course, it is all different. There’ll be no such group fun.
I had a message in my inbox today from one member who described the battle he’s having, unable to dress as family are around, and saying how very much he longed to transition.
It’s important not to let this weigh too heavily on you over Christmas. This is a time for relaxing and enjoying what’s left of a hard year. I think I can help though.
It will help you to understand that wanting to dress and wanting to transition are two different things. Some of us really do want to have a full transition, and perhaps that is somewhere in the future. However, there are also many of us who find comfort in the middle ground of the gender spectrum – sometimes feeling more femme and other times feeling a little more masculine. You can learn more about the gender spectrum in Jules and Lenni’s discussion here. https://fionadobson.com/finding-your-place-on-the-gender-spectrum-with-lenni-and-jules/
So, disconnecting the idea of dressing and transition is a positive move. It may well be that you will transition one day, but today you can enjoy dressing or not – as you wish. You may also find it helpful to consider that while you may not be able to be completely crossdressed, bringing a more androgynous look to your daily wardrobe will go a long way toward helping you feel comfortable, especially over the holidays. My Pinterest board on this may give you some ideas.
So, there’s a few things to think about. Most of all, though, choose to relax. This is part of your life that can bring you great joy if you allow it to. It doesn’t all happen overnight, though. Having patience is an essential part of trans life. After all, you’re changing your life, not just changing your underwear.
I’ll be online on http://FionaDobson.com chatting with members over the holidays, and of course answering messages and comments on my Patreon. I’d love to hear from you. I also know that Auntie Kittie, Mistress Meg and Katia Thornwood all have things on the way for our Patreon members. It’s likely to be a fun time online. Don’t forget the great Community page as well, where you can post pictures and connect with others.
Please remember over the Christmas period that keeping to a limited number of visitors, using a mask and maintaining social distancing is the surest way to help yourself and others to bring this pandemic to a close. This thing won’t be wrapped up until we learn to do that, so the sooner we start the better.
I hope you enjoy the video below. It’s by our wonderful friend Boggie and will give you a lift as we go into the days a head.
Preparations for Christmas festivities are creating an air of expectation and excitement around Huckleberry Close this morning, and I couldn’t help noticing that next door people seemed to be stopping by at my neighbor, Marjory’s house looking at the rather imposing Christmas decorations in front of her house. A truly excited sense of seasonal cheer has developed in our little community.
The children have had their last day of school, and inspite of the unseasonably warm weather they are playing in the street and throwing snowballs at one another and laughing. Indeed the festivities this morning spilled over in a rather unusual incident worth recalling. It all started with özel eğitim tanışma etkinlikleri fen ve doğa rolling into my kitchen at 9 am, a little bleary eyed, looking for coffee and advice.
“Fiona,” she said a little groggily. “I think I may be experiencing hallucinations.”
I did my best to calm her down, as she sat looking worried.
“I swear that Santa Claus in Marjory’s garden just flashed me,” she groaned as she shakily took the coffee I offered her.