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You won’t believe what came across my desk!
I was a little late into my office this morning. I washed my hair after a particularly strenuous yoga workout this morning, and I simply had to let it dry before coming to the office. I have a delightful black blouse on, and a black and white skirt. Very Kate Spade. The cool weather demands some nice stockings, too.
As you know, I prefer to work from home, but do show up to the office now and then. This is mostly to annoy Brenda in the human resources department, but you know, one has to show willing. By the way, have you read ‘Getting To No – Telling Clients and co-workers to sod off without offending them’? It’s an interesting look at the modern workplace and something that is becoming required reading in some business groups and gender studies groups. That sounds really boring, but give it a try.
I wandered into the office a little after 11, and to my surprise was met by an unfamiliar voice saying, “Hello, big boy.”
I froze and immediately checked my reflection in the full length mirror I insisted the facilities boys install in my office. That was when I noticed the parrot sitting on my desk.
At that very moment Sylvester entered my office behind me and said, “I see you’ve met Captain.”
I can only assume Sylvester had dropped by to annoy the girls in accounting. He really can be quite coarse, you know.
“You have a parrot?” I said.
“I inherited him,” replied Sylvester. “He’s a macaw.”
“Well, I don’t appreciate being misgendered first thing in the morning,” I said and sat down at my desk. “Who did you inherit him from?”
“My uncle,” said Sylvester as he put out his arm and the brightly colored creature stepped up on the outstretched limb and then languidly sidled up to Sylvester’s shoulder.
“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had an uncle. Or that he died.”
“Oh, it was a while back. I didn’t really know him very well. He left me a few hundred dollars,” explained Sylvester.
“And a parrot?” I asked.
“Well, sort of. Captain’s been passed around since my uncle died. He’s been to practically everyone in the family, and now it’s my turn. I think I’m going to hang on to him,” said Sylvester, stroking the bird under his chin.
“Show us your tits,” said Captain. “Show us your tits.”
“I think I see the problem,” I said. “Perhaps you should close my door. I’m not sure the staff share Captain’s permissive conversation style.”
“My uncle was a doctor,” said Sylvester by way of explanation as he closed the door.
“I see. You know how old Captain is?” I asked.
“Not really,” said Sylvester.
“Do you have any idea how long parrots live?” I pressed on.
“No. It’s not really something I’ve looked into.”
I looked at Sylvester skeptically. However, on the desk before me was a catalogue of products which I have to examine for the advertising agency. We are pitching for a new account and the first step is to thoroughly understand their product line. And that brings me to the reason for this email.
I am often asked to help members who feel they are unable to dress, because their spouse is not entirely on board with the whole ‘crossdressing thing’. Many times I remind them that the best approach is not to inform their significant other that, ‘darling it doesn’t matter what you do, I just look better in your panties than you do!’
To totally suppress these desires doesn’t work very well. And furtive dressing sessions can be very unfulfilling. A more successful approach is to gently introduce the shift toward a more feminine approach. And that’s what I am going to talk about today.
There are many ways to dress in a more androgynous way, without completely going over to crossdress in public. A good start is to reconsider colors. Hard contrasty colors are very masculine. Hard blacks and reds are quire aggressive. Instead, selecting a softer palette of pastel colors where possible is a wonderful first step. A pastel blue or lemon sweater or shirt can be quite femme looking.
Something else to give some thought to is the fabrics that you wear. I prefer lambswool or angora to cottons or nylons when it comes to sweaters. I avoid brand names and always wear soft colors. It telegraphs my own softness and sensitivities. It’s also perfectly acceptable in most office environments. And keep in mind, a touch of lipstick or putting on heels and you’re crossdressing if you choose to go that far. Super femme.
When it comes to jeans, if I’m out sanding my boat, or helping Sylvester get to grips with his half shaft, I’m wearing the 501’s. But when I’m casually dressing I always go for a femme cut pair of jeans, preferably with a bit of stretch. Mavi is a good place to start with this.
So, without going full on femme, this will help and even if you’re unable to dress as much as you’d like, this gives you a more androgynous look without overtly crossdressing. You can learn much more about this in my Premium Program. I have some other wonderful ideas for when you’re unable to dress as you wish in there under the title “The Empresses New Clothes”.
Now, I am going to have to go and get ready for some work – well, lunch at any rate – and I have to get this obscene creature out of my office. I should eject the parrot, too.
Have a wonderful week,
Fiona.
PS. Surrounded by energy stealing assholes? Crank up the volume and listen to the video below. Then come and join my Patreon for as little as $1. https://www.patreon.com/fionadobsonCD
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Become a member!My hand on your flies.
My good friend Sylvester was looking very concerned.
“I really think I ought to get my junk out,” he said, sounding very distracted.
“Well,” I replied. “If you must!”
“I mean, some of these lures are very old. They’re junk really,” said Sylvester.
We were standing around a table in the greenhouse, in my garden. The smell of ripening tomatoes filled the summer evening air. On the table was a neat little pine box, containing some beautiful lures which Sylvester has made, as he is such a keen fisherman.
I inspected his flies, and I must say it did make me think I should keep my hand in. You may not think this to look at me, but I really do love outdoor sports, including hunting and fishing. I find the gentle rhythm of fly fishing very calming. Helping Sylvester sort out his fly fishing lures, and discarding those that are damaged or ineffective, is a periodic task I help my friend with.
I shall be writing before the end of the week. Now, let me help Sylvester sort out his flies. I’m sure he’ll appreciate my attention.
Fiona
Sylvester slammed his tackle roughly in from behind!
As perhaps you know I am enjoying a little time away from the hard weather and have slipped of to the Baja, in Mexico. Such a delightful place. However, you can imagine the surprise when I received an excited phone call from Ali, my gardener.
“You should have seen it, Miss Fiona. Sylvester slammed his tackle roughly in from behind. I’ve not seen anything like it!”
As you’ve likely guessed, Ali has discovered ice hockey. Well, it had to happen. You can’t be in Canada for very long without being affected by this the national sport.
“It was wonderful,” said Ali. “He’s been on the game for some years, I hear.”
“I think you mean, ‘he’s been on the team’, Ali,” I corrected him. I really do worry about Ali’s English at times. I really must speak to his teacher.
Ali went on to tell me that Sebastian’s been going out with a new girl and is very taken with her. Apparently she’s very pretty but she has a squint. Unfortunately she’s unable to see him any more. Poor Sebastian.
I do like to keep up with the news at home as you can tell, but that’s not the main reason I’m writing. I thought I’d share some news with you. I have added a new $1 level to my Patreon page. This allows you to penetrate just a little deeper without going to the full expense of the other programs. I realise there are many things out there at present competing for your attention, and at such a difficult time it’s sometimes a little hard to justify the expense of a full program like the Premium Program for some of us. It’s important to me to be available to all my members, so I talked to Max about this and asked for his ideas.
He said, “You need to give people a different option. Some way to have a relationship without too much expense. You need some kind of ‘Back Door’. So, with this in mind I am inviting you to join my Patreon and use my ‘back door’ for just $1 a month. I think you’re going to like it. It’s exclusively on Patreon. Join here – https://www.patreon.com/fionadobsonCD
🙂
Fiona
Become a member!PS. Just click any of the hotlinked names in the post to get more stories about that particular person. It’s a fun way to learn about my friends.
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There’s thrush in Marjorie’s bush.
I was a little surprised to see Ali in my garden this morning, spying over the fence in Marjorie’s direction, looking through an enormous pair of binoculars. Now, you’ll remember Marjorie is Amanda’s lover.
It’s very cold at this time of year and much of the wildlife of the garden retreats into the foliage where it’s warmer. Ali takes a keen interest in such things.
I quietly crept up beside Ali and tried to see what he was looking at so intently.
“What on earth are you looking at, Ali?” I asked quietly, pulling my robe tightly around my body.
“It’s Marjorie’s pussy,” he whispered back.
A moment later Marjorie’s back door swung out and she came striding across the garden towards us, her impressive physique sailing toward us like a battle ship with sixteen inch guns primed and being brought to bare directly at Ali.
“What on earth are you doing?” she asked, arms crossed across her thinly veiled breasts and looking like thunder.
“I was watching your pussy,” said Ali.
Thinking I’d better diffuse the situation before the chill air exposed any of us further I invited Marjorie in for a cup of tea, and Ali joined us in the kitchen.
“I don’t much like being spied upon,” said Marjorie, as I poured the tea. At that very moment Sylvester arrived and joined us in the kitchen. He placed hi enormous mug on the table beside our delicate tea cups, and smiled expectantly.
Ali piped up, “I’m not spying on you. I was just checking out your pussy.” I do wonder about Ali’s language skills at times.
Sylvester smiled, and I shot him a glance hoping he’d get the message to behave.
Ali continued, “it was about to get the thrush.”
Marjorie looked livid.
“I’ve noticed they’ve been getting into your bush in this cool weather,” he added not helping himself very much.
I managed to calm Marjorie down, and assured her Ali meant no disrespect. It’s so easy to offend when dealing with such sensitivities. I suppose I have learned to be more careful in my language recently. Especially with all the talk about pronouns we hear these days. I do find that the best approach is to try and be as sensitive to others needs as possible. After all, in the end we are all just trying to get along as nicely and with as much kindness as possible. I do feel that is the approach that brings the best in good taste to our friendships and our relationships.
Indeed, I was feeling rather pleased with myself as we all enjoyed some Danish pastries and a lovely cup of tea and chatted. You’ll probably appreciate that this is one of my great skills. Bringing calm where there was agitation and disruption, before I arrived.
As I walked Marjorie to the back door when it was time to go she smiled at me and squeezed my hand.
“I’m sorry if I’m over sensitive, Fiona,” she said.
“Oh, don’t be so silly,” I said. I added, “Besides, it’s nearly spring – I can hardly wait to see your tits in the garden myself,” and closed the door behind her.
Have a lovely week.
Fiona
My knob is terribly stiff!
“This knob is very stiff,” I said to Sylvester, as I relaxed in the seat.
Oh, I should explain, he’s been installing a new sound system in my car.
“I can loosen it a little,” said Sylvester, “but you don’t want it so loose that someone ends up jerking it off. You wouldn’t want that.”
“Speak for yourself,” I replied.
However, that’s not the reason I’m writing to you. Mildred, from Colorado Springs writes:
“Fiona, I’d like to be reminded of you every morning when I have my first cup of coffee of the day. And I’d also like to discretely show my support for trans people and those of us that are of a gender non-conforming bent. What can you do to help?
Love from Mildred, Colorado Springs.
PS. Why do I get so much mail that starts out “Dear Sir or Madam’? Is there something I should know?”
OK. One thing at a time.
Yes, of course I have something to help you first thing in the morning. And a discrete way to show your support to all our members and friends. I was in a conversation with Sebastian about this just yesterday. I can see him in my minds eye right now, sitting on my right hand after we’d finished yoga, while I enjoyed a soothing cup of Earl Grey Tea.
“Those nice boys and girls at Patreon can help you. They can make a cup and give it to any member who joins as a Unicorn and stays on for three months,” he told me while pulling his yoga pants back on.
“That’s a curiously random piece of information to have,” I replied.
It’s true, though. If you join my Patreon as a Unicorn after three months you will receive this lovely mug, complete with the image here. This will be recognizable to anyone interested in gender issues, though won’t really mean much to anyone else. I’m told it’s really a good idea. It is also a great conversation starter.
Keep in in this is my first venture into the world of ‘Merch’. It all sounds so very sordid. Anyway, Max will oversee the tech side of it. He’s recovered from the last flogging he had. I think that was for something to do with us being kicked off Tumblr. Again! Either way I will see it’s done well.
So, pound my button as hard as you can and sign up as a Unicorn Member and in three months you’ll get a cool cup to help you enjoy me every morning. Wait. That’s not what I meant.
🙂
Fiona.
Become a Patron!Sylvester needs some help polishing his chopper.
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I happened to have arrived at Sylvester’s workshop on a slow day at his business, and he was busying himself polishing his chopper. He was breathlessly working away at it, wanting it to be in great shape before the first days of spring.
Come and sit on my Zamboni.
Hi,
I am out of breath as I write this. I’ve only just got home after a most disturbing incident. I feel I have to write and tell you about it.
The day started calmly enough. I did my early morning yoga class, and then as I sipped a morning coffee I watched Ali, my gardener, picking figs from a tree I have in the garden. He really is a treasure, and as I went out to check on my bees, who are prodigiously working away producing honey, I could hear him humming a strange tune.
I am finding these summer mornings delightful. It’s my usual practice to wear something simple – a plain tennis skirt, some wedges, and a pastel top. I like to keep things very simple. My brightly colored nail polish sets it all off rather stylishly.
Ali glanced round and saw me in the garden and then fell into silence for a moment.
“Good morning,” he said cheerfully, and carefully selected a juicy fig and handed it to me. “Such a health food, and a perfect one for you.”
“I do appreciate healthy foods, Ali,” I mused as I bit into the succulent fruit.
“That must be how you keep so trim,” he continued. “And is it not written that it is easier for a fat man to enter the kingdom of heaven, than to pass through the eye of a camel.”
I frowned and said, “I don’t think it is written. At least nowhere I’ve read it.”
I do wonder about Ali’s English. He was a professor of botany in Syria, before the terrible crisis over there. However, since coming here he’s been studying English. I’m not quite sure where his difficulty with English begins and his sense of irony ends. I added, “However, that is a perfect fig.”
It really is peaceful in my garden. The ripe fruit and soft early morning sun on my face reminded me how very fortunate I am to live here. Canada is truly a blessed country.
Picking up my bag and cell phone I decided to make the most of the morning, and took Hannibal, my dachshund, for his morning walk. As I strolled down Huckleberry Close I got a call from Sylvester, who has been learning to drive the Zamboni at the local ice arena. He’s really becoming quite skilled. He called to ask if I wanted to have breakfast with him at a café nearby. Naturally I agreed. They do the most delightful croissants, orange juice and coffee. The mother of the family that runs the café keeps bees and brings in her own honey. It’s really most delightful.
And so as Marjory was leaving for work, rather than drive I asked for a lift and rode with her the three miles to the arena, where she dropped me and decided to join us for breakfast. I think that after some years Marjory is warming to me. She still finds me a trifle odd, but she’s been a lot more settled since she started dating my wife’s childhood friend, Amanda.
Marjory and I walked into the huge ice arena, and there across the rink was Sylvester driving the Zamboni. The cool air wafting off the ice was a welcome relief from the heat. When Sylvester looked up he recognized Marjory and I and stopped the big ice grading machine.
“Come on over,” he shouted across the ice. “You want a ride?”
I’ve never been on a Zamboni before, so Marjory and I gingerly stepped out on the ice and tottered across to 
the vehicle. For those not familiar with the Zamboni, it’s a vehicle driven on an ice rink to resurface the ice. We do this so that the hockey games are played on a very flat surface. Ice has small crenelations if not properly smoothed making it unpleasant to skate, and the Zamboni does the job very well. Sylvester has been learning the skill recently, and now does the occasional turn at the arena cleaning up the surface for the skaters, and preparing it for the ritual slaughter of foreign hockey teams that keeps Canadians so amused. Really, it does. And they just keep coming back for more!
I stepped up onto the vehicle, my little tennis skirt riding a little high as I did so. Marjory followed me, looking a little bemused, and then Sylvester was off and driving around the ice, leaving a smooth glasslike finish behind us.
Now, keep in mind this was very early in the morning, and through the large windows out in the deserted car park I could see Marjory’s solitary car. As we rode around the ice I noticed someone was doing something to Marjory’s little car. The next thing I knew, the car was pulling away toward the exit of the car park.
“Marjory,” I said. “I think someone’s stealing your car!”
She looked out of the window, and sure enough, she shouted, “My car! My car!”
With remarkable composure Sylvester swung the big machine around toward the huge doors of the arena. He hit a remote control and the doors slowly began to open. I have to say I was most surprised at the turn of speed the Zamboni then displayed. Accelerating toward the opening doors Marjory and I clung on to our swarthy friend as the Zamboni flew off the ice and started out across the car park.
“Don’t worry,” said Sylvester, his hair swept back in the morning air as we raced across the car park. “I’ll catch him!”
The little car was exiting the car park and moving out into the slow moving morning traffic. Sylvester piloted the Zamboni skillfully out into the road and we shouted after the car thief, who was becoming increasingly ensnared in the traffic as we maneuvered between lanes, to the surprise of other drivers.
While Marjory called the local police, I hung on to the Zamboni and Sylvester steered us skillfully between cars with startled drivers looking incredulously at us as we navigated down the road in the ice smoothing machine. It’s really not the sort of things you expect to see on the morning commute in 32 degrees of heat (89 degrees Fahrenheit).
As the cars ground to a halt at the traffic lights ahead, a police car appeared and started cutting through the traffic. Marjory was talking to the emergency operator, who relayed her instructions directly to the police cruiser.
A moment later the traffic stopped, police car on one side of Marjory’s car, and Zamboni halted flush with the drivers side. Marjory’s little car was completely boxed in. It was at this point that I decided it might be wise to make myself a little scarce. With a smile to Sylvester and a polite wave to the car thief, who was trying in vain to open the car door, I slipped of the Zamboni and made my way to the sidewalk.
As I left I could hear the sound of other sirens. Likely this would turn into a dogs dinner of police and press and god knows what.
At that moment the appalling Amanda called my cell.
“What on earth’s going on with Marjory? I’m trying to phone her and it just rings and rings,” she said sounding both annoyed and annoying.
“Ahh…. Her phone’s probably in her car.”
“So?” came the reply.
“Well, nothing really…” I wasn’t going to get into that with Amanda.
So, next time someone asks you if you’d like a ride on a Zamboni, keep in mind it may not go the way you planned. So much for breakfast! I’m sure Sylvester and Marjory will be occupied for a while there. I felt it best to hurry home to my kitchen, where I am writing this to you now.
I hope you’re enjoying the site. If you’re not, just come back a couple of days later and you’re likely going to find a whole lot of different content!
Have a lovely week,
🙂
Fiona
Once upon a Christmas Time in the West.
I am thrilled to be spending a little time in Mexico in the beautiful Baja peninsula. I’ll be online most evenings over Christmas and chatting through the website chat function. And no, it’s not a chat bot. It’s really me.
For any of my lovely members wanting to reach out, feel free to come by and say hello.
As I said to Sylvester just today, “I don’t like to think of any of my members struggling over Christmas. I like them to have a place they can come.”
Sylvester then made some obscene comment not worth repeating here. You know he really can be quite coarse.
If you’re feeling at a loose end try some of my Stories or for something a little different have a look at some of my Featured Friends. There’s a load of content there that will keep you entertained. Failing that, just listen to some of the music HERE.
🙂
Fiona.
Join my Premium ProgramSylvester’s put his organ in my back passage.
I do so hope you’re getting ready for a lovely Christmas. I will likely be on the website chatting with members and friends. We will manage though, but I feel it is important to remind my lovely members we are still in the throes of a pandemic. Just be a little careful.
In the meantime some of my more organised friends are getting ready for the New Year. I think it might be a little optimistic, but Marjory (who you will remember does well on the competitive eating circuit) is already going through her schedule for next year’s competitive eating events. It’s very competitive as you probably know. The organizers stage legs in various cities throughout the South. She is diligently trying to plan out next year’s schedule.
Inevitably it’s always at a time when Amanda is also very busy. However she usually manages to slip away from her demanding schedule at Pig And Pig Farmer a few times in the season to meet up with Marjory and give her a kiss between the legs.
But that’s not the main reason I am writing to you. I was most surprised this morning to look out of my back window and see Sylvester struggling up the back lane with a trailer behind his truck. Apparently, with all these restrictions on gatherings, the local church has taken the opportunity to do some much needed maintenance. Sylvester has helped by delivering some of their things to the company that services them.
Looking from my kitchen window I saw his truck approaching in the lane behind my house pulling an enormous trailer. I opened my window and called out to Sylvester, “What on earth do you have there, dear?”
“It’s the organ,” he replied. ‘I need to park it up while I get a tarpaulin. It looks like it might rain in a little while.”
“That’s OK,” I called down the lane. “Just leave it in my back passage.”
I hope he gets a tarpaulin for it quickly. It’s much better wrapped, I think. Parked there it will be fine for a couple of hours though, I think. What a very big heart Sylvester has, helping the church out like that. Rainbow has in the past offered yoga classes at the church, and when the members of the church council organised a collection for her, knowing she’s not got much work at present, they presented her with a handy and much needed windfall.
I asked her what she was planning to do with it, and she said she was very grateful to the gentlemen of the church council and that she was planning to blow the whole lot over Christmas. It seemed a rather unusual turn of phrase, I have to admit.
For those of you alone this Christmas I really do think you’d enjoy my Whatsapp Group. It provides a level of community connection many of us are missing in our lives. There’s an active group of crossdressing friends there and we’d welcome you as well. You can find all the details HERE. It’s much better than feeling alone over Christmas. Of course I also have a couple of other ways for you to connect and feel part of the community.
I will be writing again soon, but if you find yourself with a little time on your hands over the Christmas period, be sure to check out my Patreon. For those who don’t have much in the way of community around them, I would suggest you join my Whatsapp Group and connect with the lovely group of members who are chatting so nicely on there.
I’ll be in touch soon, but now I have to go and see what Sylvester is up to. He appears to be putting some sort of lubricant on his organ.
Fiona http://FionaDobson.com
Become a Patron!Have you seen the Christmas flasher?
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 Auntie Kittie 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.
Continue reading “Have you seen the Christmas flasher?”I’ve laid the table, now what’s next?
I really do enjoy having a few friends over in the evening. So it was that I found myself, just the other day, hosting a small party with Sylvester, Auntie Kittie, Sebastian, Rainbow and her new friend, Epiphany. Just use those links if you’d like to explore a little more detail of each of these great friends.
I’d prepared a small variety of dishes. You know how it is when you are taking into account the various dietary needs of people, I’m sure. When I had asked Epiphany what sort of foods she enjoyed she had informed me that she ‘preferred not to feast on the flesh of murdered animals.’
Epiphany is a very slight girl. I am sure she’ll become Rainbow’s lover. She has very small hands.
As Sylvester was listening to Rainbow talking about a flasher who has been frightening people in a local park, I put out the tofu drizzled with a peanut satay sauce.
“He was about average height and had a big coat. And I think he was right handed,” said Rainbow who didn’t seem the slightest concerned that she’d been exposed to in such a manner, when out for her evening run.
“How exciting,” I said. “And with all this cold weather, too!”
Epiphany and Rainbow, both choosing not to eat meat, were extolling the virtues of a vegetarian diet.
“I have often thought I should become vegetarian,” I said. “Though I really do enjoy seafood.”
Sylvester decided to chime in and added, “Fiona does love a winkle in cider now and then.”
I told Sylvester to shut up, you know he really can be quite coarse at times.
At this point Auntie Kittie chimed in that she thought everybody loves a well prepared bird on the table, “and honestly, girls, who doesn’t love a good stuffing?”
I gave Sylvester a sharp kick under the table as I saw his mouth open, but before he could make some crude comment. He muttered something about everyone loving a good sausage.
It’s such a good thing I always prepare a variety delights for my guests. I served the various dishes but not before suggesting to my assembled guests that they should be sure to leave a little room for desert. What a surprise it was for them when, after I cleared away the main course Auntie emerged from the kitchen and whipped out her dumplings covered in cream!
But that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you today. I am trying to build up my Patreon following. It’s an up hill struggle, but the more members I can grow there, the more content I can release. Your support is greatly appreciated, especially in these tough times. In case you don’t know you can support me there by subscribing for as little as $5, or if you choose to become one of my Unicorn level members you can get one of my famous ‘You want me to use which bathroom’ mugs. Who could resist such an offering!
Have a lovely evening,
Fiona
PS. Enjoy the video with Annie Lennox, Hugh Laurie and John Malkovich below.
Help! There’s a bunch of fascists at my Thanksgiving Dinner!
I hope you’re ready for the thanksgiving celebrations, where we turn to look at one another and count our blessings. A time when every self respecting crossdresser looks about at their closest family and wonders “Oh my god! Who the hell are these people!”
Yes, many of my members have said to me that this is one of the most challenging times of year for them. It ranks right along with Christmas, when friends and family wear their bad taste sweaters and we can barely find the time or space to slip into a nice pair of frilly panties or a simple skirt and blouse.
And, of course, there’s the family get together. That joyful time when our distant relatives become our nearest and not so dearest, reminding us that there’s a reason we don’t invite Uncle Billy Bob and his revolting offspring to visit every other weekend of the year. As they pull up, parking in the bike lane outside the apartment, in their Dodge Asshole Wagon, complete with confederate flag licence plate, we are can only reflect that it is sometimes our differences that make us strong. And that as they unload their arsenal of concealed carry weaponry, it sometimes isn’t.
As Sylvester told me just the other day, “My brother in law arrived, and I said to him to make himself at home.”
“Well, that’s very courteous of you, Sylvester. Well done,” I replied. I like to encourage any evidence of humanity in Sylvester.
He went on to say that his brother said, ‘I always do. Wherever I hang my hat is home!’”
His brother in law then took off his MAGA hat, hung it on the spare room door and went on to spend most of the weekend banging Sylvester’s long suffering sister while poor Sylvester ended up baby sitting their three revolting children. The weekend was only brought to a hurried close when one of their neighbours called to tell him that their landlord was loading their belongings onto a truck and they were being evicted.
Worried that he might have taken the whole ‘make yourself at home’ thing a little too literally, Sylvester waited till they’d hurriedly rushed home four hours away, and then packed his own place up, locked it securely, turned off his cell phone and went on an extended four day fishing trip with Bernard.
As much as we do love our families, many of us feel we don’t need to expose them to this particular side of our nature. As such, and I know this is hard, we sometimes have to smile and bite our tongue as we listen to their insane rhetoric and political views, and quietly remind ourselves, ‘it’s only once or twice a year.’ There are some arguments that there is no point engaging in.
In all seriousness, I do urge you as we go into this Thanksgiving holiday, when a family member bursts forth with some offensive views, ask yourself, ‘Is this an argument I can possibly win? Will Uncle Billy Bob really turn round later and say, ‘Gee, you know you’re right!’. If the answer is ‘no’, then I suggest you to learn the words that every good husband learns at some point in a marriage:
“You’re probably right, dear.”
One can learn to say those treasured words in such a way that everyone else around the Thanksgiving table knows damned well that what you’re really saying is, “You’re an uninformed bigoted idiot and you’re wrong”. We save our energy for the battles that can be won. They are more often subtle, the evidence of our own kindness, and the way we lead by example, allowing our sensitive more loving nature to lead our actions. We are, after all, the living proof of our worthiness.
So, how does one strike back? One does so quietly, with grace and calm. One way is to make sure you vote in all elections for people that share your values. Obviously today I am speaking mainly to my US audience, but these words are equally true wherever you are. For US members, understanding that many of the values presented by the Republican party are resulting in our sisters being targeted and abused is something we simply cannot ignore. While we may not change much by getting in an argument with Uncle Billy Bob, we can use our vote to instigate wider change.
Another way to help is, if you’re feeling strongly about these issues, back a politician who is making a difference for our community with a donation, even if it’s only a few dollars. I am not generally a fan of politicians, but these are trying times. I can wholeheartedly recommend Zooey Zephyr, who is doing great work in Montana. Even if you don’t live in Montana, helping Zooey is a good way to move our agenda forward. If we can make headway there, we will encourage people to come forward elsewhere.
And finally, if all else fails, you can become a member with me and support my work. I say that as, in my own small way, I do my best to be supportive to the trans community and many of my crossdressing members who cannot openly show themselves, by providing supportive content. I’m currently trying to rebuild my Patreon base, so even joining as a Good Gurl for just $5 goes a long way to delivering quality supportive material to your sisters.
Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, and know that as one of my members, I give thanks for you.
Below is some good advice from Natalie Wynn, Contrapoints. Have a wonderful weekend.
Fiona
Become a member!I think Sylvester took that whole ‘dance as if no one is watching’ thing a little too seriously.
I am sure you know, I work at an advertising agency. More accurately, I attend. Fortunately the partners seem to enjoy having me around.
As luck would have it I was invited to a party being thrown by one of the partner’s wives, and against my better judgement decided to bring Sylvester as my plus one. I should have realised this was a bad idea, but all the same Sylvester lurched his way into the beach front condo and mingled with the various guests. I knew a few of those invited, but to be honest I think I was only invited to bump the numbers up a little.
Across the room Sylvester quaffed his beer heartily and started in on another bawdy story to the poor man he was cornering.
“So, this priest, a hooker and a dwarf go into a bar,” said Sylvester. I decided to withdraw to the other side of the room. You know, Sylvester can be really quite coarse at times.
Instead I reluctantly listened to one of the guests walking me through her organic method of vaginal hygiene, and asking me if I thought it might have commercial potential. This is an occupational hazard when one is in marketing. One has to look interested and nod a great deal.
Chantelle, the partner’s wife, eventually collared me and to my surprise told me that they were so pleased I’d brought Sylvester, still talking to the pale looking man he’d cornered earlier.
“Really,” I said, quite puzzled. “Sylvester is a little,” and here I searched for words, “…a little fundamental for most polite company.”
“It’s so good to see someone getting on so well with my brother,” said Chantelle. “He finds it so hard to connect with people since he was ordained.”
But that’s not the main reason I’m writing today.
I thought I’d just remind you how very well received some of my hypnosis MP3’s have been. You can see a few HERE. Be sure to check them out. By using them in the evenings before you go to sleep you can enjoy the effect of hypnosis. Let me know how you get along.
🙂
Fiona
Become a member!A little something to help you through the daily grind.
“You know,” I said to Sylvester as he got ready with some lube, “I feel I need to give my gurls a little bit of a hand from time to time.”
Sylvester looked up at me, applying the shiny liquid to his shaft.
“You’re so thoughtful, Fiona.”
You will remember that Sylvester is a mechanic. He’s restoring an old engine at present. He knows the value of making sure all the parts are well lubricated.
“Are you sure it’s going to fit,” I asked as he slid the shaft into a tight fitting sleeve.
“You’d be amazed what a good amount of lubrication can do,” he said concentrating on the job in hand.
The shaft slid home with a satisfying metallic sigh.
“Goodness,” I said with a slight gasp. “You’re really very good at this.”
“Yes,” he said with a look of studied concentration. “Lubrication is the key to so many things.”
“You know you’re right!” I replied. “I just feel I want to help my members feel a sense of satisfaction. So many of them put up with so much.”
It was as I thought about this that I decided to post a few pictures that might elevate your mood. You know, if you’re on this site then I am like a sister to you. And any good sister would be prepared to bend over backwards to help you feel good about yourself.
Do you think I should bend over backwards for you? Well, register and see what I have as you slip inside the website. You know the deeper and deeper you go into it the more satisfying it can be. Come on. Register here, and go really deep. Just the way I like it.
🙂
Fiona
PS – be sure to sign up for one of my programs to experience the deep satisfaction we both crave.
Getting Astride Sylvester’s Boner.
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Did you know?
Sylvester has entered me!
As summer gently shimmys toward the exit door, and fall gets in the queue to get into the club of the passing year, we’re slowly seeing the weather change. Even Auntie Kittie has started wearing a sweater now and then, a matter of considerable relief to Max, who types up her material.
“Max is such a dear,” she said the other day. “I’m so grateful he’s so good at putting it in. He’s so thorough.” and then added as an after thought,”… and so quick.”
The poor 20 year old lamb goes the color of a beetroot when he’s embarrassed, and Auntie Kittie will say such things in front of Sylvester and Mistress Meg. And it was Sylvester and Meg who were sitting at my kitchen table this very morning. Sylvester was telling us how in these troubled times we should all be finding ways to lift our spirits. Instead of worrying about the Corona Virus we should be reaching deeply within ourselves and fostering our creativity. Meg was a little skeptical.
I’ve been doing that very thing myself. I’ve been doing a little embroidery, making some of my jeans look a little more feminine by adding a few little designs. It’s really very simple and gives even the most masculine of trousers a nice feminine touch. If you’d like to change your favorite dungarees from the farm yard, or even the ones you wear when cleaning out the slag from the iron foundry this will do just the trick. Even your most stylish denim pants can be personalised and uplifted – and we could all use a personalised uplifting of our denim clad butts, I’m sure you’ll agree.
I leaned over the kitchen table and turned to Sylvester and said, “What do you think of this?”
Sylvester looked at my jeans as I did so, and said, “That’s really very impressive. I think I should enter you.”
“Sylvester, I…” but before I could speak he went on, as Meg looked on, arms folded and unimpressed.
“I should enter you in the embroidery competition. It’s part of the end of summer cultural fair at the recreation center.”
“Oh, really I don’t think so,” I said. “Most of the people entering are really rather older than I am. They’re quite a conservative lot. I’m really not sure what they’d make of me. I can imagine it would be like that poor South African athlete who they didn’t believe was a woman.”
Sylvester looked a little doubtful. “No, I don’t think it would be like that.”
Anyway that’s what I’m doing. Sylvester tells me he’s working on a book. The Complete Idiot’s Guide To Being A Complete Idiot. A catchy title.
“Are you writing it or reading it?” muttered Meg, ever the acerbic wit.
It turns out that half the people in this competition I’m now entered in are young arts students. I thought they’d all be doddery old buffers like Auntie Kittie’s father, who’s staying with her rather than going into a care home. These days that seems a rather good idea. The old fellow is about 150 years old and sits smiling looking into the far horizon. He seems a kindly old fellow, though the dementia is quite complete and he has little idea of what’s going on. He seems cheerful, though.
I said to Auntie Kittie, the other day when I was round there, “He looks like he’s fondly remembering the things he used to do when he was a young man.”
She frowned and agreed.
“Yes, you’re probably right. He’s remembering flying aeroplanes and bombing Germany. He’s always been a belligerent old bugger.”
I suppose we all have our own journeys.
Have a safe week.
Fiona
Become a member!Look what the women who feminize their partners are up to!
Well, it’s been a lovely week already. Here in Canada we have just celebrated Thanksgiving.
Amanda, who hails from the Midwest and is the esteemed editor of Pig And Pig Farmer Weekly, recently asked Sylvester why we celebrate Thanksgiving at a different time to our dear friends to the south, in the US. Sylvester cryptically replied, “That’s one of those climate change things, Amanda,” which appeared to satisfy her.
I have to draw attention to a slight correction on the website, where some confusion arose among readers. As you know people ask my advice for all kinds of things. When Mildred, from Colorado Springs recently enquired about how to help her niece house train her new puppy, naturally I replied on the site with what I felt was very good advice.
“Pick the puppy up, and take it around the house, saying ‘no’ at each location, before carefully putting it down on a piece of old newspaper.”
A surprising number of readers thought I meant shoot it through the head. Well, it’s an understandable mistake.
To compensate I am offering those members who mentioned this a booklet I have prepared on how to remove animal blood stains from curtains and soft furnishings.
But that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you tonight. I thought I might mention to you a rather sweet gesture made by one of the ladies who are members of my feminization program for wives. You can find it here. What a thoughtful sweetheart she is.
Be sure to join my Patreon to show your support for my programs HERE.
🙂
Fiona
Become a Patron!It isn’t easy being a crossdressing advertising account executive.
I think it fair to say that one of my favorite occupations after I run screaming from my office at the end of the week, is to relax and settle down for a quiet weekend on the water. This is the time when, after the gnashing of teeth and sobbing generally has subsided that I can put my feet up, watch one or two friends trying to look masculine and impressive, and lament the absence of my wife, still unaccountably travelling in Europe.
If there was a week that would drive one to a gnashing of teeth, and generally pulling one’s hair out in frustration, it was indeed the week that has just ended. On the whole my clients at the advertising agency are a sweet and very receptive group of people. They accept my somewhat unusual approach to life, in exchange for some very sound advertising and marketing guidance for which I am grateful, as it does provide me with a satisfactory income. Having said that, I despair at some of the clients.
We do have a number of ‘pro bono’ accounts, which is to say they are charities which we support by donating our time to them. One does hope, however, that they have some experience in the worlds of advertising and marketing. When the Eczema Awareness Foundation recently came to us looking for some assistance raising awareness of that unfortunate condition, I hosted a roundtable discussion at the advertising agency, to encourage their creative ideas. I was surprised then, late last week, when they came back with the idea that they’d like to try a scratch card campaign. While these campaigns do indeed raise awareness and can be fun, a scratch card doesn’t seem an appropriate way to raise awareness of Eczema. These are the challenges I am forced to deal with.
And, of course, there’s the development company attempting to convince the small and ecologically perfect community on the coastline nearby, that they should be the location of an enormous Liquified Natural Gas refinery and port. Not realising that most of the people in this community are retired and living in a place of outstanding natural beauty, their advertising campaign focused on their idea of bringing business to the small town. Our agency was called into to quell the negative publicity after the natural gas company plastered signs all over the small town, saying “LNG – This place is going to boom!”
Spending a lovely sunny afternoon wandering around the town tearing down posters with Sylvester, who came along for the ride, was not really the kind of thing I expected to be doing at this stage of my career, but I really don’t mind. Especially as we spent so much of the late afternoon and evening kayaking up the spectacular British Columbia shoreline after checking into an AirBnB.
For those of you who love Clothes Maketh The Man, I’m pleased to say that Part 66 will be coming out soon. You can always find the latest episode listed in the chapter index here – http://FionaDobson.com/cmtm
Now, Bernard tells me we’re in for a lovely day of sailing tomorrow. I think we can squeeze out a few more good sailing days this summer. Have a lovely week.
😊
Fiona
Let’s talk colonic irrigation.
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