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The importance of being Visible.

For years people have used coded messages to convey hidden meanings.  They do so to garner support from others who can read those messages. It signals that we are stronger together, and that we are not alone.

I lived in South Africa during the apartheid years. Seeing many different ways in which an authoritarian was resisted opened my eyes to the importance of daily conscious energy to progressively move the margins of society in the direction needed. It’s rarely a cataclysmic shift that makes a difference. Revolutions are, by definition, out of the ordinary. To shift the zeitgeist one has to do so a fraction of an inch at a time. Everyday. Never giving up.

As distasteful as it sounds we see alliance displays very clearly when watching MAGA crowds. Yes, I know – just try to hold onto your lunch. Whether it’s the red ball cap, the simple letter ‘Q’ or a single finger raised in a one arm salute, you can witness non-verbal messaging at play.  Now, I don’t counsel watching any MAGA rallies. If I want to watch a bunch of losers displaying their failed understanding of politics I need only look at some January 6th footage from the Capitol. I try to avoid doing so within half an hour of eating.  But hyperbole aside, these methods of unifying support are often very effective. In the case of large crowds it’s all rather moronic, a little like believing a message gets better by shouting it louder. Natalie Wynn describes this very well in one of her videos HERE.

For a smaller group, a minority for example such as trans people, being able to identify our own supporters and allies is important. Imagine being lost in a crowd, possibly hostile, and having no idea who one’s allies are. Perhaps it’s everyone around you – or perhaps none.  For this reason I am a strong proponent of carrying symbols that convey support for trans, bi and LGBTQ values. I show my colors, as it were. I also know that while not everyone will recognise my message, many people who are aligned with me will recognise the symbols and take some comfort from them.

The idea of this is not to provoke. It’s to signal to allies, ‘Yes, I am here.’  Not everyone needs to be a Valkyrie or social justice warrior. My intention is not to create a combative atmosphere – something that does nothing o appeal to the feminine side of my personality.  I’d rather bring change through quietly reasoned self awareness of what is morally right. Gently assuring our sisters and friends, these are my choices and I am unashamed of them is important.

With that in mind, especially as we move toward election cycles I do suggest members actively ‘flag’ themselves. This can take the form of a simple button, a tee shirt or even the simple color choice in an outfit. It’s true that some people may see such signals and take them to be provocative, however if that’s the case you’ve just forced a bigot to reveal themselves, which is better than not knowing who the bigot in a party is.

With his in mind I’ve got a special page on my site with a few ideas for some subtle and other not so subtle trans supporting ideas. My personal favorite is a button saying ‘404 Error – Gender Not Found’.

Check it out and perhaps you can adopt one or two of the ideas.

😊

Fiona

PS. Part 57 of Clothes Maketh The Man is out!

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My pussy is being hunted!

Hi,

The sun is blazing down on my garden, and I can hear Ali moving about in the distance, his hand tools musically clinking as he cleans up the flower beds. He has recently declared a Jihad on the weeds in the north border.

As he arrived this afternoon in his Smartcar, equipped with the rifle rack that Sylvester gave him, re-purposed to carry his rakes and spades, I was dancing – in my kitchen to the sounds of my childhood –https://youtu.be/v16CwfkppeI – getting carried away in my own little world. I had put together a big pitcher of sangria, a nice zinfandel with pineapple chunks and oranges, for myself, Ali while he worked, Max who was climbing a tree and trying to get to my pussy (don’t ask), and Bernard who will be over later this afternoon with some proofs from our latest photoshoot.

My garden is one of my favorite places in the summer. It’s a hive of activity. I still don’t know exactly what Max is doing climbing that tree, though. Shirtless and tanned he is, well, an entertaining diversion. He’s trying so hard, but I don’t think he’s ever going to get my pussy. All the same it’s fun to watch.

The summer here in Vancouver is in full swing, and I am thrilled to say that we’re welcoming new members to my Premium Program all the time. I have been thrilled to see so many new members recently, it quite takes my breath away. I’ve also been getting a lot of mail – my inbox has been quite literally pounded with interesting mail. I do enjoy a good pounding!

So, I thought I’d include a couple of things in today’s message. One is something I am constantly asked about. Breasts. Yes, always something we like to give our attention. But, if you don’t want to go on a hormone therapy treatment, what can you do to stimulate a little breast growth? I am so glad you asked!

There’s a few soy drinks out there, including ‘So Good’, that are quite rich in phytoestrogens that mimic the female hormone estrogen. If you drink a moderate amount daily you will experience a small increase in breast size. Women have known of this trick for years, and can lift their breast size by one or two cup sizes quite easily. So can you. If you’re not in North America (and I have members from all over the globe now) then finding another milk like soy drink will likely have the same effect.

Gosh, you learn some useful things from me! You can also use one of my breast enlargement self-hypnosis files here: https://youtu.be/15v1usMJAXg Self hypnosis for breast enlargement has been around since the sixties, and is well documented to be successful. I have many gurls who have experienced great results with this.

Have fun, and enjoy your weekend.

🙂

Fiona

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Fall is a great time to adjust your look.

As we kiss goodbye to a hot summer it’s time to start adjusting your look. Just think of all those lovely russet hues that you can lean into!

I was just saying to Sylvester this morning, “It’s a time to start adjusting into the warm colors of the fall.”

Sylvester is very touchy these days, what with Amanda travelling the competitive eating circuit with Marjory, my next door neighbor. He does get quite jealous. She’s been gone for weeks. It’s a wonder that Pig and Pig Farmer Weekly hasn’t gone into terminal decline. I understand she edits the trade publication even while on the road.

For Sylvester, putting together a fall wardrobe consists of switching the denim blues to the Carhartt browns, though I have to admit Carhartt does have some functional women’s workwear these days – https://www.carhartt.com/c/womens

It’s rather hard for Sylvester to compete with Marjory, for that beating lump of gristle that passes for a heart inside Amanda’s breast. Marjory is even more down to earth than Sylvester, and she just blunders forth. It’s quite remarkable to me that she ever gave birth to such a sensitive boy as Max, who as you likely know, looks after the technology things for me. Marjory is the kind of person that announces her pregnancy by switching to menthols. She even has a sticker on the back of her truck that says, “My other car is also a truck.”

A gold star dyed in the wool lesbian if ever you saw one! You just have to love her!

Sylvester can’t really compete, although he does turn a few heads down at the hockey rink when driving the Zamboni. Some women are just impressed by the wheels. Honestly! Men! It’s all rather infantile if you ask me. A little like the time he tried to help his friend Roland with his circus act. Roland is a talented spoon thrower. Yes, I know – it’s all to do with the terms of his parole. But you get the idea.

Fiona

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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 they 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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Long live the King.

I was lamenting the passing of our Queen yesterday, along with a huge number of people. My voice need hardly be added to the outpouring of regret by so many others, and yet I do feel a sense of loss. The Queen was, after all, an influence my entire life, and there’s no doubt about it, whatever else she was, she really was a likeable sort of monarch.

It was fitting that I wore a nice black sweater, black stockings and a black kilt yesterday. On that slightly mournful note, I have some lovely crossdressing funeral ideas HERE.

After my yoga session this morning I was sitting in my kitchen, enjoying a calming cup of tea with Sebastian, when he started telling me the news about his sister, Rainbow.

“Rainbow’s not seeing that optician anymore,” said Sebastian a little mournfully.

“I’m sorry,” I said, confused.

“They’ve broken up. It’s a pity, I think he was very good for her,” continued Sebastian. “Apparently when she said she couldn’t see him anymore he told her to stand a little closer, and then said ‘And now?’”

I looked at Sebastian and tried to figure out if he was joking.

“Well, Rainbow has some unusual ideas,” I said.

“She certainly does. She told me she felt their energies didn’t ‘co-mingle’ they way she wanted,” he concluded, looking through the window into the far distance in deep contemplation.

I tell you this as much as anything to set the scene. The window that overlooks my garden is really quite lovely but of late I have had Ali trimming some of the bushes just around the base of the window. He’s a talented gardener, and moves quite silently about the place, his long white gown floating like some ethereal gardening spirit. Now and then he stands up, his head appearing in my wind, and says something before once again going down on hands and knees working on among the foliage of my beautiful flowers. It can be quite disconcerting at times. He’s just like a Syrian Jack In The Box, appearing out of nowhere. It can be quite startling.

Rainbow isn’t seeing the optician anymore.

It was in this tranquil scene of quiet contemplation as I sipped my chamomile tea that Ali’s wizened head appeared, rising out of nowhere and chimed in, “Tits like coconuts.”

I steadied my nerves as Ali sank out of my line of vision, and then rising and leaning out of the window looked down into the flower beds and said, “I beg your pardon?”

Sebastian struggled back onto his stool.

Ali surfaced back into view and replied, “You were saying how much you like the birdsong of summer, and wanted to attract more birds into your garden.”

I stared blankly before remembering a conversation we’d had just the other day. I do like to attract wildlife into the garden, and had asked Ali if he had any thoughts on the matter.

“Oh yes,” he went on. “Lot’s of birds love coconuts. If you hang them on a string from one of the trees it’s sure to attract a few. You know, tits, chaffinches and sparrows. They all love coconuts.”

I slowly sat down once more, and thanked Ali for his contribution to the conversation. I really do wonder just how much English he understands, at times. I may have to talk with his English teacher.

I do hope you’re having a delightful end of summer. Be sure to have a look around the website – there’s a lot there and I always try to keep things fun.

😊

Fiona

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A crossdresser asks – Are you into Greek?

Well now, where to start? Let me put it this way, I am from England. Where the history comes from. And where I come from we have a certain cultural threshold. We learn Greek mythology in school.

Or at least we did. These days it’s probably considered elitist. Along with confidence, having civic values and a sense of national pride. But either way, we have this in built radar that comes on when we hear pseudo (that’s a Greek word, by the way) intellectuals spout Greek names – particularly if they are not English pseudo intellectuals. It clicks on and a siren goes off in our heads along with flashing red letters saying ‘FRAUD’.

My radar clicked on recently when the name of a NASA space craft quite suddenly seemed to be on everyone’s lips. Artemis. Everything now is ‘Artimis’ this, and ‘Artimis’ that.

Hang on a moment. Let me tell you a little about Artemis. And to make it more interesting, to me at least, I will myself play the role of Artimis to illustrate the point. Picture me naked. Tall, hair falling over my classically ample breasts. Yes, a fine figure of a Greek Goddess, all smooth skinned and with a bust that looks like it was chiselled out of marble. Well, we’ve all got to have a reference point.

Beside me are my lovely Greek garments, lying on some warm stones beside a forest lake in which I am bathing. Sunlight dapples the surface of the lake as I walk into it slowly, wavelets radiating out from my form as I proceed, a vision of grace and beauty. The water is cool, and as any goddess worth her salt is inclined to do, I have walked slowly into the pond till waist deep, the dark waters cooling my body from the warm summer sun.

Oh, the luxury of it. My hair slick and wet, the water caressing my skin, and my breasts pert and firm, the nipples erect in the fresh cool clear waters. As I lay back and feel the refreshing movement of water over my soft skin something catches my eye. A movement. Could this be another godly creature come to join me? Perhaps that curious new goddess Tracy, goddess of Essex girls, come to explore those unnatural urges she has been experiencing recently? But, no!

A rustling in the undergrowth. Is that a mere human? Oh, my stars. It is! A hunter has seen this godly body in all it’s glory. And in my case he really would be confused. But who could it be, I hear you ask, as well you might. It’s that Actaeon, some hunter up from the village to come out hunting with his damned dogs, a vicious bunch of curs they are too, slobbering everywhere.  And a brutal sport it is, hunting defenseless deer and setting the dogs on them.

As I swim naked in the forest lake, this perv is watching me like some sort of beta incel. As much as I try to cover  my body, I cannot mask the shame I feel in my beautiful nakedness.

Well, I think you can imagine this isn’t my idea of how to take a lovely naked swim all on my lonesome. Incidentally, I’m drawing on what Lenni described as her experience on a workshop on a remote BC island recently. Those of you who listen to Lenni and Jules know who I’m talking about.  Anyway, Lenni was swimming around like a mermaid in the moonlight some nights completely starkers in good Canadian fashion, and I had the pleasure of a running commentary.

Getting back to me swimming in a forest lake, there I am, and this filthy incel perv starts watching me from the bank. I think you can imagine, as a Greek goddess I’m not going to let this pass lightly. And this is where I start worrying a little about NASA’s choice of nomenclature. You see, as much as these early steps into space seem to be all about enlightened exploration and peaceful curiosity, then why name one of these missions after someone like Artemis. I say this, because when Artemis learned she was being spied upon by some pervert on the shore, she did something few would classify as either peaceful or enlightened.

Artemis immediately turned Actaeon into a stag and whipped his dogs into such a frenzy that they turned on their former master and ripped the flesh from his body, feasted on his liver as he screamed and begged for forgiveness, and then gorged themselves on his flesh as he died in excruciating agony witnessing the vile sight of his own carcass being slowly consumed by his loved dogs. One can’t help but think that, if some alien race has access to the internet, they’re going to be mighty interested in the fact that we’re naming our space craft after such ethereal entities. I have a bit of a problem with space exploration, to be honest. While I am a total trekkie and can name the five types of propulsion of an Intrepid Class starship, the prospect of fat rich white people flying around the solar system seems to fly in the face of good taste to me. Each time I see a rocket blasting off I have to wonder if our atmosphere isn’t already hot enough without these extra carbon emissions. And worse than all that, the space suits! I mean, really. White? No one looks good in white! And those boots. A heel wouldn’t hurt.

But all that aside, is this really the moment? After all, democracy is on the slide, we’re watching Russians kick nuclear power stations in Ukraine just to see what happens, inflation is on the rise and Trump… Well, just bloody Donald Trump! Hadn’t we better spend a little more time sorting things out down here for a bit?

I hope you’re having a blast off of a week. Unfortunately my spies are telling me that Artemis might not be going anywhere this weekend after all. Not to worry. We can dream of feeding incel perves to hunting dogs as well down here as we can on the moon, in true human style. After all, we come in peace, right?

Fiona.

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Do you know who you are?

We are all put in boxes by society, family and the wider world. Gender, once considered a fact – is now understood to be more fluid and mysterious. In this heartfelt talk Geena Rocero tells her story.

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It’s time to think about that Little Black number.

We all need it. And the underwear to go with it! Have you chosen your little black number yet?

Here’s a quick tip. Having exposed shoulders works well if you have a very feminine upper body. However, many of us will want to cover our shoulders and break up the shape of the upper body. Try something like the ones below for a comfortable and pleasant shape.

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Exposed At The Summer Party.

“I told you before,” said Samantha, “You’re going to wear this lovely hoodie I just got from Amazon. Look, it’s the perfect size!”

“But I don’t want to wear it,” replied Darren.

“Yes, you do,” retorted his wife, as she looked for a summer dress in the bedroom closet. A nice pink one might be just the ticket.

“It’s a company function, I can’t possibly wear that!” he said in frustration.

Samantha adopted her most patient demeanor, and repeated, “You’re going to wear it. Think of it like this, you can pretend to be the wife. You’ll like that.”

With that she slipped her jeans off, and started to go through some of the summer dresses in her wardrobe. The heat of the summer was dissipating, but she could still get away with something revealing her perfectly tanned shoulders. She also like the soft materials, and gentle colors.

Trying a slightly different tack she added, “Besides, look how well these colors go with my dress?”

“Darling, it makes me look soft. It’s not manly,” said Darren. “Everyone is going to be wearing the tee shirts with pictures of cars, or motorcycles. Did you see that thing Steve wore last year? It had the picture of an F22 jet on it. He said something about it being ‘power dressing’.”

“No self-respecting teenager would wear that, as you well know,” responded his wife. “Think of it as just being your true self. Gurly dressing. After all, that’s what you like, isn’t it? Besides, they’ll just assume you’re striking a blow for trans rights.”

“I don’t want to blow anything,” said Darren, an air of dejection in his voice. He knew there was little point arguing with his wife when she had set her mind to something.

Samantha sat on the bed thinking about which summer dress would be best, her full breasts gently rising and falling with her breath. The summer afternoon light caught her beautiful honey colored hair just perfectly and her beauty almost made Darren catch his breath.

At length she said, “That’s not what you said last night.”

Darren shuddered. He hated it when she brought up things like this outside of their sexual activities.

“Don’t say that, darling,” he muttered awkwardly.

“Oh, come on. Own it, Darren. You told me you wanted to suck cock, and at the time you were wearing the panties I’d bought you. Do I really have to remind you?”

“That was different.,” he replied feeling embarrassed.

“Oh? And you seemed quite happy to wear my robe, and those heels,” said Samantha. “No, missy, you’ll wear what you’re told to wear. Besides, you practically begged me for anal last night.  I’m likely to be more forthcoming if you do me the favor of wearing something appropriate. Who knows, perhaps tonight is your lucky night.”

“You’re going to make me wear this… this… flaming gay hoodie to a company function?” protested Darren.

“Yes, darling,” said Samantha, pulling on a summer dress that complimented the hoodie. “If you want me to accept your dressing up then I expect you to dress in a nice way.  Besides I picked this one out specially. I think it’s very feminine, without being too obvious.”

“Look at those colors! It makes me look like I am some sort of dick hungry whore!” said Darren.

“But darling, when you were inside me last night, and I told you to say ‘I need to suck dick!’ that’s precisely what you were. I only want you to dress the part.  Is that really so bad?”

Samantha would not be moved, and eventually Darren did pull on the hoodie. It was just the company picnic, after all. No one would be wearing work clothes. All the same, he felt he was taking a terrible risk.

“There you are!” said Samantha. “Now, if you are really good I may let you be naughty tonight. I’ll even call you Darlene while I take you.”

Darren smiled. He knew that every cloud had a silver lining. And he really liked the hoodie.

As he walked to the car he forced his ass out a little, and swayed his hips. Yes, he had the best wife ever!

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Tick Tock, Mr. Trump. The clock is ticking…

Here’s a quick flashback to when Trump was doing his campaigning and participating in his debates with Hilary Clinton, before he got too scared of being shown up by a woman. You may enjoy this retrospective. Read the story from October 2016 HERE.

Just a quick reminder – Trump’s policies toward the trans community set us back decades. As we approach another electoral landmark it’s important to make sure you are registered and prepared to vote your conscience. For most trans brothers and sisters this is for a more liberal option than that offered by the Republican Party. With a Senate that is prepared to impose morally reprehensible limits on the rights of women, we know very well who they will turn on next. At a time when trans rights are being rolled back at local, state and federal levels it’s more important than ever to be properly prepared to vote and make your voice heard. We need this for ourselves and our LGBTQ friends. Don’t forget to register and make sure your vote is going to count.

🙂

Fiona

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Part 56 of Clothes Maketh The Man is out!

I looked about the hall, and from this elevated position I could see that everyone in the room was watching the surreal form of Mr. Butterworth complete with goat headpiece, held firmly by eager hands beneath me. Beside the massage table among the masked faces of the audience was his wife. Nothing seemed to conceal her glee at seeing her husband subjugated in this way.

Enjoy part 56 of Clothes Maketh The Man HERE.

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Honestly, the people I surround myself with!

Honestly. I was saying just now to one or two of my friends online, I can hardly believe the people I surround myself with!

“I’m getting some work done,” I said to Sylvester, while I was making some lamb sosaties and turned my back on him and continued slicing the lamb. That was my first mistake.

“You know, round the back,” I said while reaching up on tip toes to get the curry powder from the top shelf.

I turned around to see Sylvester looking at my bum in a manner that can only be described as lascivious. Yes! Sylvester, a man who manages to combine having his head in the clouds with having his mind in the gutter!

“Round the back of the garden. So Ali can get the mower in more easily.” I said, by way of clarification. What a pervert!

Anyway, that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you today. I’m doing a nice little addition to the site. Some of you know that by clicking on the tags at the end of the post to find other messages the people mentioned are in. I also usually hotlink the first instance of their name in the post, so you can see other places they’re mentioned in. So if you want to ‘stalk’ Amanda for instance, you could see other posts she’s mentioned in.  I love that anyone would check out Amanda. Yuk!   Well, I am writing up a profile of each of the main people mentioned in my posts, so you’ll be able to drill down even further and learn how Bernard caused a diplomatic incident before coming to Canada, or even get some of Rainbow’s kombucha recipes. So just go HERE to get a list of the profiles. I’ve got some up already, but I am working on them as I write this. It may take some time to get them all up.

You’ll be surprised at how much there is on the site once you start to drill down.  Have a lovely week!

😊

Fiona