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Sylvester is checking out Amanda’s cans.

What a strange day it’s turning out to be. Our members are all out doing wonderful things. Julia in Holland, one of my favorite members in our Whatsapp Group, has been out and bought some beautiful summery things, and nearby I know Lenni is having a garage sale.

Julia has been doing so well. She, like many of my members in the Whatsapp Group, shares some of her experiences and activities with other members of the group. It makes it a very supportive community.

This afternoon a few friends will be stopping by as the isolation period begins to lift. Lockdown here in Canada has been well observed and the results mean we are now able to begin very gradually restarting 2020. I, like most of my friends, feel that having a glass of wine in the garden with one or two friends is much more comfortable than going out to a restaurant, for the time being at least. It also gives us the chance to have a bit of a barbecue in the garden. Sebastian is hoping to treat us to his sausage later on. I am wearing a denim skirt, tee shirt and a lovely floral mask, and keeping things very simple.

Sylvester and Sebastian arrived a little while ago astride his enormous chopper.

Taking off his helmet he said excitedly, “Amanda’s going to drop by later. She wants me to check out her cans.”

“I’m sorry?” I replied a little surprised.

“Her headphones,” he said. “She says they crackle. She wants me to see if I can sort them out. It’s probably just a loose connection. They were very expensive apparently. Mind you that was in 1993. Still, I said I’d check them out.”

“Oh,” I said doubtfully. “I see.”

I have told Sylvester on more than one occasion that Amanda is in a relationship with my neighbour, Marjory the competitive lesbian eater. Or should that be ‘the competitive eating lesbian’. Well, as I’ve mentioned before Marjory is apparently quite a big noise in the world of competitive eating, although like so many sporting disciplines they are experiencing something of a famine this season.

“You should be a little careful,” I said to Sylvester. “Marjory and Amanda are together, as inexplicable as it may be. I’m not sure that you should be hunting in that particular briar patch. You might get pricked.”

“I don’t mean to be pedantic,” said Sebastian cutting in. “But, I’m not sure you can hunt in a brier patch.”

In the interests of contextual accuracy I rephrased my doubts to Sylvester, saying “I’m really not sure you want that bird in your hand. Better to leave it in the bush.”

Sebastian mumbled something about Sylvester having big hands and added that there are plenty more fish in the bush. I decided I should let it slip past. Instead I shot them both a look of disapproval.

“OK,” I said. “Let’s try this again. I don’t think, Sylvester, that you should have your snout in that particular trough.”

I think I may have to go in a moment. Sebastian has just got a call on his cell and let everyone know that Rainbow will be dropping by shortly and wants to show us her jugs.

“She’s only just got them out of the kiln,” he said helpfully. “She want’s to show us her pottery. It’s come on so well recently.”

Have a delightful weekend and if you’re one of my American members have the very best of Independence Days. To all my members, keep it real and stay distanced and masked if you can. 

Fiona

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Rainbow whips out her crackers.

As you may know, my personal trainer, Sebastian, has a delightful sister named Rainbow. The west coast has many people named by well intentioned hippy parents, that have grown up to be very unlike their free wheeling parents. 

While Rainbow is decidedly whimsical and likely in line with what her parents expected, not all my acquaintances are so well named. For example, Rainbow is a yoga teacher and perfectly qualified, being both gluten free and lactose intolerant. However, another friend of mine was blessed with the name ‘Swallow’ by her parents. If the swallow really is the bird of love, then one would hardly expect a corrections officer working in a high security prison to carry such a name and yet that is indeed where she has had a quite successful career.

Continue reading “Rainbow whips out her crackers.”
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We all get to swallow our own medicine.

“Swallow, Fiona!” said Sebastian, pushing me onward.

“But…” I protested, my mouth almost overflowing.

Rainbow, Sebastian’s sister, added, “Go on, Fiona. You’ve taken more than a couple of mouthfuls already.”

She gave me a knowing look and whispered, “I know you love it really!” Then she lay back on her yoga mat in my garden, the soft fragrance of lavender wafting over us.

I should explain, Rainbow and Sebastian are at my place this morning and brought some healthy kale and ginger smoothies with them. I know how good it is for me, so even though I may gag a little, I manage to force it down. I don’t mind Sebastian and Rainbow coming over for breakfast as long as we enjoy it in the garden, and maintain a reasonable social distance.

“It tastes very,” I searched for words, “…healthy.”

It tasted so healthy I wondered if I was going to throw up. It’s not the first time I’ve been exposed to this recipe. To be fair, one does feel wonderful when one finishes drinking it.

Rainbow brings a couple of interesting points to her interpretation of yoga poses.

Sebastian is a very diligent personal trainer. This dreadful virus business has hit his business quite hard. He and his sister come over to my place every two or three days for morning yoga, which helps me keep nice and trim and as long as we are reasonably careful I feel glad of their presence. I get to dress in a beautiful leotard and tights as we do our yoga class, and Max my next door neighbor’s young son watches us through his binoculars from his bedroom window.

“You know,” said Sebastian, “your body is the sum total of all that you put into it. It’s best to choose things that are wholesome.”

I briefly thought back, remembering a long and and enjoyable youth, and smiled.

“See,” cut in Sebastian, “the thought has brought a smile back to your face.”

“No, you misunderstand,” I replied. “I was just thinking about a little encounter I had last fall. Very wholesome.”

However, that’s not the main reason I’m writing today. We’re living in turbulent times. You don’t need me to remind you of that. I do however want to encourage you to do a couple of things this week.

The first is to stay focused on social distancing and wearing a mask in areas where there are groups of people. Just because there’s a lot of protests going on, the virus doesn’t just go away. Guard your health with common sense.

Second, as I often suggest to my members, let’s not rush to judge others this week. Asking oneself, “what would I be doing if that were my brother?” is a good first step to trying to understand some of the events unfolding. Those of us who explore the gender spectrum understand about being judged harshly. Let’s try not to make that mistake with others.

If you’ve not already done so, be sure to join my Patreon, I’d like to try and get up to 175 Patrons this month.  It’s just $1 a month and you know you’re going to get a lot of joy from it.

Enjoy the beautiful song by Marvin Gaye. Be sure to let me know how you’re getting along.

😊

Fiona

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Are you lactose intolerant? Don’t tell Mistress Meg.

I am so pleased to see that my personal trainer, Sebastian, is finally calming down. In isolation, along with his sister, Rainbow, he’s been struggling a little with the stress of the process. Here in lovely Vancouver people have been observing the lockdown very well, and as a result we had just one new death yesterday. Of course, even one is one too many, however the process does appear to be working.

He does help me online each morning as I work out, but I can hear the stress in his voice. I mentioned this very thing to Mistress Meg just yesterday.

“He does seem to be a little on edge,” I said. “It makes it hard to relax as I am doing yoga. He is rather highly strung.”

“Yes,” replied Meg. “He probably should be.”

Sympathy is not the primary emotion that springs to mind when chatting with Mistress Meg. Many of you will know her from her writing on my Patreon in the Seahorse level. Never one to stifle her opinions, I think she thinks of Sebastian rather like a puppy that continually looks for approval. She seems unsure whether she should laugh at it, pet it, or give in to the inevitable urge to give it a hefty kick over the nearest fence while no one is looking.

Continue reading “Are you lactose intolerant? Don’t tell Mistress Meg.”
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You’re going to thank me, believe me.

I’ve been chatting with a few of the members this week and we’ve been talking about how people are handling social distancing and isolation. Rainbow, Sebastian’s sister, appears to think it’s all a hoax and that it’s really just the authorities trying to disguise the fact that this is the dawn of the zombie apocalypse. She seems to think that’s why the streets are so empty. She says they don’t like the sunlight.

There have been some great suggestions in our Whatsapp Group for activities that make this period a little more fun. When Sophie asked what she could do to keep feeling feminine, Lenni suggested going out and getting some clear nail polish – even if you’re unable to dress in public. It helps you look after your nails and feel feminine.

Continue reading “You’re going to thank me, believe me.”
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COVID19 Crossdressing News.

I looked at Sylvester skeptically, my arms folded and leaned back against the stove in my kitchen.

“Really, a quarantine reserve?” I said.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Just enough food and supplies so that you don’t need to go out, should you feel sick. I mean, spreading this thing around the place hardly seems to be living  up to your civic responsibility.”

“Is it really necessary,” I asked. “I was planning to spend tomorrow morning at the nail spa.”

“Probably not.  Hopefully not. But perhaps. And if it is, then you’ll be a lot more comfortable with it than without it. It’s not urgent, but you may want to have a few things to hand.”

“I can imagine you’d have 200 cans of baked beans in yours.”

“That’s not fair,” protested Sylvester.

“Your flatulence isn’t fair,” I responded. “Besides, I think I’d rather die of flu than be gassed to death.”

“Besides, it only has to last a couple of weeks. By then you’ll be better. Or dead.”

“So you have 14 cans of beans, then?”

“And other products.”

“Well, if you get sick you be sure to come over here. I make excellent chicken soup. And bloody mary’s. And I have a good reserve to see us through, if Auntie Kittie hasn’t drunk it all. But you may have a point. If one does get sick, going out for supplies might be a little bit of a drag. I shall put a list together of things to get in.”

I took a pad of paper and started noting essentials. My list started:

Quarantine List for CORVID19 survival.

Foundation (I don’t like to look too pale).

Eyeliner (If you have to take a selfie and put it on social media when you are sick, it’s nicer if your eyes really pop).

Blush (it’s always good to have a little color in your cheeks).

Influenza safe lingerie (Be sure to be buried in this if things don’t go so well – crossdressed to eternity).

Pink N19 face mask (which probably doesn’t work but goes well with that nice polo neck I got on Amazon last week).

Sylvester interrupted me with a hurt look on his face, and said “I don’t think you’re taking this very seriously.”

“Quite the contrary. I have already set aside a very healthy reserve. I’ve also stocked up on hand sanitizer, cancelled a flight I don’t really have to take, and I am expecting to work a lot more from home in the future. So, I think I am very well prepared.”

At that point Sebastian and his sister, Rainbow arrived for our evening ‘wine and yoga’ class.

As I pulled on my leggings in my bedroom I asked Rainbow, who was also changing, what she thought about it all, and immediately regretted it.

“Well, I don’t think canned food is a good idea.  Everyone knows canned food is not as good as fresh, and probably has evil spirits in it. I’ve always found pineapple helps me if I have flu. That and some kombucha. I do have some crystals though.”

While a lemon might be perfect if this particular illness were more closely related to scurvy, I thought I might hold off on Rainbow’s advice. Scurvy is not something we see a lot of in Canada.

“So, you don’t go with Sylvester’s baked beans only remedy?”

“If we don’t get gassed to death he’ll blow us up when Sebastian sparks up a joint. I’m not sure which is the worse way to die!” she replied thoughtfully.

On a more serious note, here’s a great website for suggestions of what to gather should you feel the need – https://www.businessinsider.com/expert-how-to-stockpile-healthy-food-14-day-coronavirus-quarantine-2020-2

There’s a lot of spurious information floating around. It’s smart to be prepared, but not to panic. Probably the most valuable tool at present is a bar of soap for thorough hand washing. But if you do end up sick, be sure to have just the right night wear to hand if you end up quarantined for weeks. And with that, I’m off to buy some new nighties.

Got some suggestions for your Quarantine List for CORVID19 survival kit? Be sure to add them to the comments below.

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What are you driving?

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.

Have you been reading ‘Clothes Maketh The Man‘? Enjoy the ongoing serial now in its third year.

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 themselves with.

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.

Have a lovely week.

Fiona

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Sailing on a gender fluid sea.

I enjoy sailing. More than that, I love sailing. Sometimes I will take Sebastian out and we’ll race 16 footers at a local club, and we do pretty well. Other times I just want to mess about on the water, just being me. And that means probably dressing in something mildly effeminate which, when viewed from a distance, you’d never know what gender I might be.

There’s something fundamentally genuine about the elemental connection with wind and water, and this strangely indeterminate person between the two. Regardless of gender, how one acts with sail and rudder will result in something beautiful. The wind has no gender bias. The wider world, however is not so generously democratic.

I have noticed from many of my members that there are definitely days in which they are more inclined to be feminine than masculine. For many, it’s not even a question of ‘days’. It’s a matter of situations.

Continue reading “Sailing on a gender fluid sea.”
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Sebastian’s showing me his sausage!

Sebastian is a man who knows his way around a sausage. The recipe for his Jamaican Sausage is at the foot of this page.

I was quite shocked this morning when Sebastian appeared in my kitchen with his sausage in his hand. Sebastian, as you doubtless know, is my personal trainer.

“That thing’s enormous,” I said, as he held it out in front of me.

“I know,” he replied with a cheeky smile. “It’s Jamaican.”

Sebastian loves to make sausages and really is most adept in the kitchen. He’s always coming up with new recipes.

“What particularly makes it Jamaican,” I asked. as I turned on the grill.

“Mostly it’s the spices, but I also add a little pineapple and orange. It gives it a citrus lift.”

“That sounds delightful,” I gushed as the sausage began to sizzle and dribble a little fat under the grill. the aroma that filled my kitchen was delightful. It would only be a matter of time before Marjory and Amanda appeared from next door, in all likelihood. It’s the end of the competitive eating season, so Marjory is spending much more time at home.

Continue reading “Sebastian’s showing me his sausage!”
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There’s never a dull moment in the advertising business.

As you likely know, I work for a well known advertising agency in an active office in the delightful cosmopolitan city of Montreal. It is often said that for each job in some industries, several other people are supported. So, for example while a car plant may employ 4,000 people a further 6,000 jobs are created servicing the 4,000 people employed with things like transport, employment services and catering. In much the same way, my work supports not just myself, but also Sylvester my mechanic, Sebastian my personal trainer, Ali my gardener, young Max who helps with technology on my blog and several other assorted hangers on and peripheral individuals.  

I was talking on this very subject with Bernard, my photographer, when we were out on agency business just the other day. Ali, who so lovingly tends my garden, spends more time there than I ever do. Instead, while he enjoys my delightful Champaign colored roses in my garden I am out driving with Bernard on a task for the advertising agency. And I’m paying Ali! It all seems rather obtuse. That said, I do love Ali, and his daughters are sweetness itself. They arrived in Canada just a couple of years ago, refugees from the war in Syria.

Continue reading “There’s never a dull moment in the advertising business.”
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I’ve been having a little trouble with my colon!

I’ve been having some dreadful trouble with my colon lately. Now, I know what you’re thinking, but ever since Max changed some of the settings on my computer keyboard I just keep getting a problem with it! I think he reset the layout to the French keyboard!

In the wonderful sunny weather we’re having I’m going to remind all my girls the importance of moisturising your skin. Using a nice aloe cream helps, and you can find them at any pharmacy or health food store. It keeps you looking fresh and really helps your skin.

Continue reading “I’ve been having a little trouble with my colon!”
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Rainbow has a blockage!

As you may be aware Sebastian, my personal trainer, has high tailed it off to Molvania on some jaunt for Personal Trainers Without Borders, leaving me without so much as a gym partner to help me with my yoga positions. I know what you’re thinking – ‘how selfish!’.

Well, no one has seen hide nor hair of Sebastian since he sneaked out of Canada and went off to teach Molvanian peasants about being vegan. Personally I think this might be a step up from living a life punctuated by intermittent starvation, but not a very big one. If I were a Molvanian peasant I know I’d like nothing more than a nice bit of sausage from time to time.

Continue reading “Rainbow has a blockage!”
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Sebastian’s slipped out.

Hi,

‘Well, it all sounds highly suspicious to me,” I said. “And, Ali, I thought you said you had a word with Jeff in immigration.  You were going to have him stopped at the airport.”

Ali looked a little sheepish and then said quietly, “He took the lunchtime flight.”

“So?” I asked.

“Well he was on his break,” said Ali. Then he added, as though it explained everything, “He had to take his dog to the vet.”

“His dog?”

“Yes, Fiona.”

Continue reading “Sebastian’s slipped out.”
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Let’s Get You In Shape The Fun Way.

You know keeping your body in shape is never a bad idea. However most gym exercises are very yang in nature – elevating the core energy of the body. There’s a great deal to be gained by releasing the tension in the body through a more yin form of exercise. That’s why yin yoga, or a hatha yoga class is so very important.


Some people identify this as a more feminine form of energy. I don’t really go quite that far, but I do feel that releasing tension through the use of yin yoga calm both the body and the mind. This allows me to be myself – a very feminine person.


Now, since Sebastian, my personal trainer, is off on some foolish jaunt to Molvania, teaching the less fortunate of the world about the benefits of being a vegan, I am left to take care of my own personal training needs. Honestly, how can someone be so selfish! He’s doing a stint with Personal Trainers Without Borders. Seems very egocentric to me.


Instead I will have to do my own yoga routine, along with Julie, Katia and Marjory from next door. Sylvester offered to come round and help me realign my chakras, but I’m not entirely sure that he interprets that the same way as I do. To be honest he’s far more useful greasing a half shaft and helping me with my fluids. In the car. He really can be very coarse at times.


However, I do think I should talk a little about exercise and how very important it is for all of us who crossdress. You may remember my photographer, Bernard, recently had some heart troubles resulting in a heart transplant. I am convinced this is because he doesn’t exercise properly. He really should be more committed. Admittedly being tazered certainly didn’t help. None the less he should be more aware of his health. Mind you, he’s not as bad as his brother, Fat Stewart. He hauls his bloated carcass around in a Ford F150 and is only likely to lose weight if he gets flensed.


So, after chatting with Marissa, one of my lovely members, I was put in mind of some of the benefits of exercising in the proper manner. That’s right, as a crossdresser it’s not as simple as merely going into a gym and lifting weights. If you want to look like Sylvester Stallone in a dress that might work for you, but if you’re looking for a more feminine shape it’s not going to do the things you’re looking for.


Most typical gym exercises are very yang in nature. The elevate the energy within the core of the body. As a crossdresser you’re looking for something a little different. Pumping iron bunches up the muscles and can even elevate anxiety. This is the reverse of where you want to be.


When you swim, particularly breast stroke, you are releasing energy. A slow methodical pace, using each stroke to release and push away tension, leave the body relaxed and supple. Crawl, or swimming in an over arm stroke, is more like a core exercise and isn’t what you’re looking for. The yin-like exercise of breast stroke, preferably daily, is extremely healthy and calming. It’s gentle. That feels more like where you need to go, doesn’t it?


Doing yoga is one of the best ways to allow your feminine energy to emerge. There’s no rocket science here. Getting into either Hatha, or better still, Yin yoga is a great way to find that side of yourself. Now, a word of caution. Don’t just wander into any yoga class, if you’re not sure what you’re looking for. An Ashtanga yoga class has more in common with a martial arts workout than what you likely think yoga is. You are looking for Hatha or Yin styles of yoga.


If you’re unable to get into a class I can thoroughly recommend Esther Ekhart’s website here: https://www.ekhartyoga.com/


I don’t get paid to recommend Esther. She’s lovely.


Have a lovely week, and try to get into a yoga class. If you’re a Patron and Seahorse Level of higher, you can also enjoy this spectacular self hypnosis file to make the experience all the more exciting and feminine.


🙂


Fiona.

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If you’re looking for a holiday destination, this isn’t it!

I’ve just come to my office from a heated debate that took place in my kitchen first thing this morning just when I was getting ready to update my Pinterest with some lovely crossdressing fashion ideas.  I’d just had my yoga session with Amanda and Marjory, when I cornered Sebastian, my personal trainer, to ask him about his forthcoming trip to Molvania to work with Personal Trainers Without Borders.

“But Sebastian,” I said, the concern oozing from my every syllable, “why Molvania? It’s hardly a travel destination anyone envies.”

“Oh, I don’t know? I had an aunt that went there to get married. It seemed quite a bargain, and the hotel seemed eager for the business.”

“Really? What did she think of it?”

“Well, funny thing. That was the last we ever heard of her or the wedding party.”

“You see? That’s what I’m talking about.” I was exasperated. I know Sebastian has this thing about ‘adventure travel’, and it’s true he has been some pretty wild places – punctuated by long hospital stays and some unusual insurance claims – but those were essentially recreational in nature. Well, as recreational as extreme gastric distress can be. Giardia hardly qualifies as an Olympic sport.

“I just don’t see why you need to teach Molvanians about diet. It’s not like they have a famine or anything.”

Sebastian looked a little disheartened.

“Fiona,” he sighed. “I just want to do my bit. Personal Trainers Without Borders has asked me to help. How can I say no?”

“Well, how many others have they got working in Molvania?” I asked.

“I know they sent two other people to the area I’m going to.” He said.

“And how are they getting along?”

“Well, they’ve not actually managed to report back yet. One may be in prison. They didn’t seem very clear about it.” At this even Sebastian looked a little doubtful.

“I’m not letting you go!” I said. This was ridiculous. Even my wife, an experienced traveler of many years wouldn’t go unless there was a good chance she’d be coming back. I must admit I’ve had my doubts about the nature of her travel at times. “Serving the community” can cover a multitude of sins, after all. But Sebastian is comparatively innocent (not a word that immediately springs to mind when describing my wife).  We might never get to see Sebastian again. He’d be a mere memory of spandex cycling shorts and feint smell of homeopathic muscle balm that had been carried off in the wind.

“I will not be found wanting!” declared Sebastian heroically.

I should give you some background. Sebastian is not short of courage. He’s been up the Devil’s Danglers, pioneering the ‘shaft ascent’ more than once and is proven in the field of extreme adventure sports. He tells us that moments after he was born he fell from the delivery bed, only to be caught up by the umbilical cord, giving him a credible claim to being the worlds youngest bungee jumper. However, none of this justified the unnecessary risk of going to the wilds of Molvania, to educate the locals about nutrition.

“I shall speak to Bernard,” I said forcefully. “He’s got a brother in the Canadian Border Services. He’ll have a word with the boys in charge and they’ll pull your passport. We’ll say you’re of unsound mind! I think his brother’s name’s Jeff.”

At this point Ali, my Syrian gardener leaned in through the window where he’d been trimming my bush.

“I know Jeff,” piped up Ali. “Is he Bernard’s brother?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I’ll tell him not to let Sebastian out, if you like,” said Ali helpfully.

“Ali! That’s unfair,” protested Sebastian.

“Don’t tell me about it,” replied Ali, a look of concerned resignation on his face. “Tell Jeff. I think he’s got a form you can fill in. Something like that.”

So you see, things are all of a quiver here in Huckleberry Close. I think it’s spring fever. Now, if you’d like to help me along and jump into my Patreon you’d be doing me a huge favor. I’m trying to get it up to fifty as quickly as possible. You can join for as little as just $1 a month.

And don’t forget, I have a wonderful feminization program with your name on it. Sign up HERE if you’re not already in it.

😊

Fiona