I am often asked by my members and friends, ‘what can I do right now to stop the spread of hate that is so pervasive in American politics today?’. While it’s great to march or protest, the fact remains many of us don’t wish to out ourselves in that way.
Yet, we also want to do what we can to support trans rights, and simply prevent the relentless onslaught on gender issues that seems to be a part of life in America today. My response is usually the same. Vote.
However, there’s only the opportunity to vote every couple of years and for some people it can seem a pointless exercise, particularly if you live in a state that is overwhelmingly controlled by the Republican party. Today I have a simple recipe for people wanting to make a difference. Here are three simple things that you can do that will help. In suggesting these initiatives I would remind my friends that this is a long game. It took a long time to win the freedoms we have achieved so far, and it may take a long time to protect them.
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.
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.
Listener Claire asks a great question about how to move in a more feminine way. We can’t all be ballerinas or elegant gliding angles on ice like the truck drivers of Manitoba, but we can all take some yoga or barre, work on our posture, get video to track our progress, and attempt to emulate the Playboy bunny walk. But ultimately, it all comes down to practice.
What a creative group of people I surround myself with, I thought to myself as I sat on Sylvester’s boner. It was shaking this way and that, the vibrations rising up through my body in a very unsettling manner.
Sylvester’s workshop has all manner of strange things in it. He is quite the amateur inventor. He’d called me earlier that day, excited about his new development. Naturally, I hurried over to his workshop to see what the fuss was all about.
As I arrived Bernard, my photographer, was pulling up.
“He want’s me to photograph it,” he said as we entered the workshop. “Say’s it’s an historical moment.”
As we arrived Sylvester stood beside a large cube shaped object. I thought it might be a washing machine, though it was covered with a sheet. Suddenly, with a great flourish, Sylvester swept away the sheet revealing a strange device with the words “The Boner” skillfully painted over the front of it.
“Let me demonstrate my new invention,” he said, clearly expecting our excitement to match his.
I clutched my hands before me, teetered to and fro on my heels, and said, “How exciting!”
With that Sylvester brought a small basket of frozen chickens, probably about five, and emptied them into the chamber in the centre of the cube. He then released a valve and I could hear water filling the chamber and see steam rising.
Bernard started snapping off pictures, and I began to smell chicken cooking as Sylvester closed the chamber. There were spurting sounds, and something that looked like a cappuccino machine released steam from the side of the contraption. In a few moments a bell ran, and chicken broth was pumped from a pipe at the foot of the machine.
Then the device started vibrating and shaking, and a burst of super heated steam was released. It looked ok for a moment and then I noticed the look of panic on Sylvester’s face.
“Quick, Fiona, climb on the Boner. You sit on it while I get out my tool.”
“Sylvester…” I said uncertainly. “I’m not sure about this.” It seemed to be shaking and rattling quite dangerously.
“Climb on it or it may shake itself to destruction.” Sylvester was reaching into one of the colorful tool chests, trying to find his special tool.
I carefully climbed on to the Boner, the shaking going through my whole body. As I sat there I thought it was going to explode, and I must say my breath was quite taken away.
And then, quite suddenly Sylvester was there, between my legs with his tool. He jerked it this way and that and before long the shaking began to subside. At last there was a gurgling sound and a hatch popped open revealing two draws. Sylvester opened one, and brought out some perfectly cooked chicken meat. The smell filled the workshop with a delicious aroma.
From the second draw he drew out a tray containing all the chicken bones, completely cleaned of meat.
“It’s perfect,” he cried out. “Every bone has been extracted and the meat remains undamaged.”
“Goodness,” I said, feeling quite out of breath. “What a remarkable invention. I can imagine everyone will want a Boner.”
Sylvester said, “Imagine, a Boner in every kitchen!”
Bernard chimed in “People will be asking what on earth they did before they had a Boner!”
“Imagine, if you could find a way to extract the dark meat,” I said.
“I should think that would make it much bigger,” mused Sylvester. “Do you think there’d be a market for such a thing? It would be a much larger and more powerful Boner.”
“I can’t see that being a bad thing,” I replied.
So you can see it’s been a very eventful few days. Have a wonderful weekend!
🙂
Fiona
When was the last time you played around? Dressed? That’s got to be a good one for Playtime With Fiona! My good friend and member of our Whatapp Group, Daphanie, loves to play a round of golf fully dressed. What’s your secret pleasure?
Don’t forget, I’ve got many free videos for you on Youtube.
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Whether you want to just occasionally slip on some panties, or whether you’d like to pass, my Premium Program prepares you psychologically, physically and educationally for all you need to know. You can sign up today for just $14.99 a month. Join the many members who are finding more acceptance and happiness in this wonderful part of their life.
“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 and we enjoy it in the comfort of my garden.
“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 stops drinking it.
Sebastian is a very diligent personal trainer. 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 I feel glad of their presence. I get to dress in a beautiful leotard and tights as we do our yoga class and all the while Max (my next door neighbor’s young son) surreptitiously watches us through his binoculars from his bedroom window. I think he’s furthering his knowledge of human anatomy. He should be careful doing too much of that, he could go blind.
“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.”
Enjoy the beautiful song by Marvin Gaye. Be sure to let me know how you’re getting along.
Going back to places in our past can stir up emotions, don’t you think? Perhaps it’s the same for you. Settle down and enjoy this story, as Jeff returns to his old apartment to find more than a few old cobwebs.
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.
Auntie Kittie is often surprised how quickly Max gets it up.
“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.”
Sexy jeans – just add heels.
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.”
My photographer, Bernard, had a session with me this week. He’s a very nervous little man. So many times he gets so close, and his excitement overwhelms him. He starts getting so excited as he points his longest lens at me and says for me to relax, while he is just panting with anticipation. It’s a good job I like him so much.
“That’s it, darling,” he whimpers. “Keep it going.”
And I am working away so hard in front of him, which I have to say I love. Sessions in the studio are so much fun. I become a different gurl. Sometimes I just don’t know what comes over me!
Afterwards I have to slip back to the office, and the IT manager looks at me strangely. He said to one of the partners in the firm, “Some times I just just don’t know what gets into that one, I really don’t.”
I’d like to say how happy I am this week, as I’m getting into the office once a week. There’s really no need for me to be there more, as I love working from home, and I am able to cover my responsibilities easily this way.
On the way to dropping 30 and I at the rail station, my sister had reassured me that things at the company were ticking along just fine without me. The thought made me feel a little redundant. Yet, it wasn’t a point of any concern to me, as I had other things to think about. Things like embracing an entirely new gender and lifestyle, and a new personality.
“Besides,” Jennifer had said, “you don’t think Devina would leave you in the lurch, do you?”
The mention of that name made me shiver. I wondered, did she miss me?
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.
So many of my female members love to dress their partners. Sandra, for example, tells me that after making up her husband, who has the femme name ‘Alexis’, she took a couple of headshots, she found a thoughtful way to surprise him.
She ordered a lovely ceramic cup with his headshot and the name ‘Alexis’ on it. Imagine his reaction when she gave him a nice cup of hot chocolate in the cup for the first time. Of course, Alexis loved it.
I sometimes have the strangest of dreams. Just last night I woke up quite startled, something slipping into my head quite unexpectedly.
It’s not unusual for me to have the occasional nightmare. I’ve even had dreams of playing the role in an unusual depiction of the death of renowned medieval crossdresser, Joan of Arc. That one was very odd. It followed an evening where I’d been out and watched an ice skating spectacular, and I later dreamed I was playing the lead in a dramatic presentation of the story of Joan, performed on ice. Needless to say the story had something of a surprise ending.
Last nights dream may have been the result of my reading some of the history of Marie Antoinette. She is widely quoted as having said, “Let them eat cake,” when told of the peasants plight in revolutionary France.
It turns out that she never said that. Instead it was written some twenty years prior to the revolution by well known French cuck Jean-Jaques Rousseau. You can read about it here. The words were attributed to Marie, along with a lot of sexually deviant behaviour (most enjoyable) that never actually occurred. This was politically motivated and provided a suitable excuse to whip her head off, thus putting paid to the problem of crowned heads wandering about the place after their revolution, instead of ending up in the basket along with all the trouble makers the French revolutionaries wanted to be rid of. Some of the fat bastards taking flights to space should take note.
Perhaps reading about this before I slid into sleep primed me for the disturbing dream, from which I woke with a start. My dachshund, Hannibal, was curled up in his basket beside my bed sleeping soundly at the time. I had to get up and pull on a kimono and make restoring cup of tea before finally feeling calm and getting back to sleep again. I did however take time to note the dream, and so I will share the entry I made in my journal, a pink volume by my bed with a picture of a unicorn on the cover.
I hope you enjoy sweeter dreams.
It was a cold dawn, the early light glistening on the cobbles of the Paris streets. A somber crowd had gathered in the square, where a guillotine stood.
Through the wreaths of mist a cart, pulled by two broken down horses clattered to a halt. And there she was, her hands bound behind her back. This wasn’t a princess, but someone of meagre birth. She stood proudly, but was manhandled down some rickety steps and led to the sinister looking device in the center of the square. Her little dog, Sasha, followed loyal to the very end.
The crowd fell silent as the metallic rasp of the blade being raised reached their ears. All eyes were on the woman, as she was pushed into place, a hard wooden yoke closing about her neck.
She knelt with dignity, silence descending over the crowd in anticipation of what was to follow. Then the unmistakable sound of the blade descending and suddenly it was all over. Until someone said, “Fetch” and that was when the wheels really came off.
“I said, ‘Sylvester’s coming to my opening,” she replied. I have to admit I was only half listening, keeping an eye on Auntie Kittie who was making another move toward the punch bowl. With so many guests in my living room I have to be ever vigilant. I refocused my attention on Amanda.
“Good God,” I murmured. “Does Marjory know?”
I should explain. Amanda and Marjory are indulging their most carnal desires with one another. Urgh. Regardless, now and then Amanda and Sylvester succumb to their insatiable lust. It’s all most distasteful.
Amanda was babbling on, “… and since my parts have been drying up lately…”
“For God’s sake, Amanda! Have you no shame?” I said.
Amanda sidled off to the bathroom, through the assembled herd of white privilege. As though materializing from thin air Marjory appeared. I swear she’s like a vampire., the way she comes and goes soundlessly.
“Has she been trying to strong arm you into going to her play?” asked Marjory. “It’s opening on Saturday night and she’s trying to get anyone she can to go and see it.”
“Oh, that’s what she’s babbling on about. Are you going?” I asked Marjory. “I went to the last one. No way! I’m not doing that again,” she replied, opening a bottle of beer with her bare hands
“I went to the last one. No way! I’m not doing that again,” she replied, opening a bottle of beer with her bare hands.
I saw Amanda returning and turned back toward Marjory but she’d vanished leaving nothing but a feint smell of ozone.
“Ah, Amanda,” I said with a smile. “You were telling me about your parts.”
These evening soirees are very pleasant. I tend to have a small gathering once a month, and the mixed residents of Huckleberry Close seem to enjoy them. Now that fall is closing in and the evenings are a little cooler it makes a nice diversion.
But that’s not the main reason I’m writing. I thought I’d just mention to you a new feature I’ve included in the website. As you likely know there’s some anti-Trans efforts emerging here and there. I was at a counter demonstration this very week in Vancouver, opposing some white supremacist nut jobs who were singling out trans rights and trying to persecute trans youth by lobbying to remove some of the many protections we enjoy here in Canada. Needless to say, they were met with vocal opposition. There were barely 150 of them and at least 1500 of us. It was great to connect with friends at the demonstration.
As you know, I generally try to keep politics out of the content here, however, with trans youth under threat I cannot avoid it entirely. As a result I’ve been including some other voices on the site. It’s a mixed bag of Featured Friends. If you’re curious just look for the tag Friends at the foot of some posts and you’ll find the likes of Contrapoints, Mia Mulder and Philosophy Tube among others. They provide some alternative views and voices. You can also use this link ( https://fionadobson.com/tag/friends/ ). There’s a broad range of trans content there. I hope you enjoy it, and I am always happy to see your feedback.
As ever, if you wish to support my work, be sure to join one of the programs here or on Patreon. I am currently trying to build up my Patreon, so joining there is particularly appreciated.
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