It’s going to be a very long weekend. Before I get into the ‘why’ let me first wish you the happiest of Thanksgiving weekends, if you are in the US, and if not, you know my thoughts are with you anyway.
I would also ask you to share this as widely as you dare, as I am trying to build followers. I appreciate your help. Let me adjust my skirt and tell you what this is all about. Being a crossdressing advertising executive does give me something of a unique perspective on things.
Now, the weekend. It all started when I overheard Joe, at the advertising agency, saying very intensely into his phone, “when it comes to feminine hygiene products, I’m your man!”
I am often asked by my members how they can hope to find a
woman who will dress them. Many times, I tell them, they’ve probably already
done so. They just don’t really know how
to identify them, or how to talk to them.
I was remarking to Bernard, my photographer, recently that
there seems to be a curious link between crossdressing, divorce and death. We
were returning from a photoshoot for a client with a well known fashion
business, having photographed the new Spring Collection in anticipation of next
“I’ve never been divorced,” said Bernard. “Marriage is one
institution I have not had the pleasure of enjoying.”
I glanced at him as we moved slowly through the city
traffic. I tried to see if he was being sarcastic.
“Well, the term ‘enjoyed’ is not the first that springs to mind,”
“Is your wife back from her trip yet? Where was it, again?”
“Kalamazoo. Or Katmandu. One of those places.” I replied a
little testily. “There really are a remarkable number of my members who seem to
return to their love of crossdressing following divorce. I wonder why that is,” I said.
“Well,” said Bernard, “I suppose following divorce in middle age one is forced to re-evaluate things. You know, be a little introspective.”
I was talking to my good friend Sylvester this morning and
he asked me what I thought the most important thing was for my members.
“Well, of course it’s the stories,” I replied.
“No, I mean what are they looking for?” he said, holding one of my hand made coffee cups in his giant paw. I have a good friend who makes them.
“Sylvester,” I said. “This is remarkable. You’re thinking
‘conceptually’. That’s incredible. It’s as though the fridge had made the leap
to being self aware!”
“Huh?” He replied.
Before thinking that perhaps I should check up on Skynet I
“I think what they really want is a safe and non-judgemental
space. Somewhere they can come and find something of themselves.”
“Ahhhh….” He said. It’s very puzzling when Sylvester takes such a cerebral interest in things. He really does have a good heart, but deep thoughts about existentialism are, to say the very least, alien to him. Even Hannibal, my dachshund, has a greater grasp of some complex thought processes than Sylvester.
I could not help noticing, whilst driving home from the advertising agency the other day, the names on the back of vehicles. The model names of vehicles are of interest to me, from both the branding perspective and what it tells me about the drivers.
A therapist member of mine recently pointed out to me that
several of their erectile dysfunction clients did indeed drive muscle cars, in
more than one instance a Hummer. Frankly I feel anyone driving a Hummer should
be on their knees begging forgiveness from their children as the pump heat into
an increasingly fragile environment. On the other hand, given the erectile dysfunction
issues associate with Hummer ownership theirs a good chance that having
children is one complication these thoughtless tools will not have to concern
Sylvester, on the other hand has shunned the muscles cars
and even removed the photo on his office wall of him posing with his Dodge
Penetrator 3000. I am pleased to see him mellowing. I do remember the day he
pulled up outside my house, on his phone calling me to tell me he was there.
“I’m just pulling into your garage,” he said. “No wait, I’m
reversing. Pulling in again… backing up,
and going in again now. Perhaps I should go in the laneway round the back. I
can get the back way, but it’s a bit tight.”
You know, I may have said this before, but Sylvester can be
quite coarse at times.
Personally I like to drive a Buick Vagina. It’s the limited Silhouette
edition. So much more my style. Both feminine and powerful, with the twin turbo
V6 with the cuddle seats option.
Vehicle names and designs do tell us a lot about their
drivers. I noticed a Kia Soul in the traffic as I was driving home, and I can
only speculate that some Korean designer sat down and thought hard about what a
car designed for Spongebob Squarepants might look like, and then took up the
challenge to build it. Ironically the driver of this particular vehicle did
look like a cartoon character.
Sebastian, my vegetarian personal trainer, drives a Kia Hymen when not riding his electric bicycle. His sister, Rainbow, drives a Nissan Slide with a synchromatic gearbox. Amanda drives a Prius, which is entirely predictable, while of course Ali, my gardener, drives the Smart Car with a rifle rack on the rear window, adapted to carry his gardening tools. He’s proud to declare he always shows up with his hoes.
One of my Vancouver members, Lenni, is originally from
Alaska, and proudly tells of her mother having driven a Ford LTD wagon. This vehicle,
with a 7.5 litre engine has the dubious distinction of being capable of hitting
a moose, killing it, and then being able to transport it back to the trailor
park for butchering. I can’t help thinking life in Alaska holds wonders I am
pleased not to have either witnessed or shared.
Instead I think I’ll go and get Sylvester to change the
fluids in my Buick Vagina.
There’s not much doubt that the idea of having breasts is
hugely appealing to any crossdresser. The question of whether or not we want
them 24/7 is something very different. However, there are doubtless moments
where a great rack would be very appealing.
So what really is the benefit? It’s tempting to think it is purely aesthetic. Well, it’s not. As I sat in The Junction in Vancouver recently with some friends, 36 D’s pointing proudly at Jake behind the bar, I couldn’t help noticing that a large part of why I was enjoying myself so much that night was to do with not how I looked, but how I felt. The presence of a full chest, even below an Aran sweater, felt absolutely correct.
I received a lovely message this morning from one of my members, Leticia. They wrote a lovely description that I feel I should include below.
“It’s always a treat to hear from you, your stories are so clever and sexy. I am fortunate to live on the outskirts of a small town, and the road out front leads into open country, through farmland all the way to the state line, and across a river. I try to take a long walk every day, and it’s a perfect chance to practice my feminine walk, flowing with a graceful sway. I am wearing running shoes, but I don’t need high heels to swing my hips. It helps me feel like a woman.”
This reminded me of an incident many years ago. I felt it worth recounting, as sometimes we give ourselves away without even knowing it. You can see my reply below.
What a lovely picture you paint. I am so lucky to have so many wonderful members. You remind me that once, years ago, I had a friend who was studying kinesiology. They watched me walking down the street one day, before I’d really emerged as being so very gender fluid and came running along after me very excited.
“Do you know,” they said, “that you walk exactly like a woman. I can see your hips swinging and the motion you use in your gait – it’s so very feminine. I’ve not seen that so pronounced before… in a man. I mean, it’s sort of unusual.”
My acquaintance was suddenly aware that their enthusiasm for their study and their observation were a little inappropriate, and a moment later they felt quite awkward. I don’t think they realised that they’d seen something that was developing and growing within me and that it would become quite impossible to suppress. It was most enlightening, though I don’t think they really realised just how very deeply ingrained that characteristic was.
Sometimes who and what we are emerges in ways we least expect. I have learned not to fight it, but to just allow it to happen. I hope you do too.
You’ll see that throughout my website and the contents of my Patreon I talk about accepting yourself as you are, and creating yourself as you desire. Sometimes we can’t really help it.
Have you experienced similar moments of revelation? Be sure to tell me about them in the comments below.