Corsets – The shape of things to come.

There can be little doubt that the single piece of crossdressing equipment that makes the greatest impact on how you look is the corset. Suddenly you have a waist, and look very different!

That dress now hangs a little more naturally. You have curves that make you excited and others wild with desire. Everything is different.

You’re going to love the selection below. Take a good look and then experiment. Keep in mind that buying a little larger than you think you need may be a good idea. You can easily be cinched down a size or two.

Remember, it’s great to experiment with a few ideas. If you can find a girlfriend to help you, you’re going to enjoy this even more.


Don’t be afraid to experiment with corsets. They are fun and give you an instant waistline. Some have a longer body style than others.  They can be worn over or under a blouse, and there’s the tricky question of whether on not you want an underbust line, or one that cradles breast forms, or your natural breast mass.

Eventually you’ll want to spend a substantial amount on a corset. At that point a professional fitting is a great idea. When you’re spending upwards of $300 on a corset, you don’t want to make mistakes. However, you’ll likely find it’s worth every cents. Until then try any of the ones you see on this page and have some fun with them.

One of the most fun aspects of corsetry is the idea of going steampunk.  I love to waer steampunk clothes and the corset is a staple of the style.  Below are a few great corsets that can combine with jeans, or a long skirt, and boots, perfect for a steampunk adventure. I can hardly wait to get out there once more.


 

What have they ever done for us?

What have they ever done for us?

Good morning and welcome to a wonderful election day in the US. If you’re getting ready to vote, slip into some heels, do your makeup and get out there with plenty of time to make a difference.

Just this very morning I was walking in my garden with Sebastian, my personal trainer, and Amanda, my wife’s appalling friend. She’s heading over the border to the US this afternoon to vote, of course, like all good people should. However, as we were walking Amanda got a call from my wife, who as you may know is currently travelling.

Sebastian and I could not help but overhear Amanda’s comments, and politely listened in to the one sided conversation. Now the important details I will skip over, except to say that I was wearing one of my lovely pleated maxi skirts that I find so very comfortable and a pair of suede boots. However, returning to Amanda, who it should be noted edits Pig and Pig Farmer, the first publication in the US to endorse Mr. Trump in the last elections.

Continue reading “What have they ever done for us?”

Knock Her Up!

I had a very strange conversation with Ali this morning. We were enjoying a cup of tea at my kitchen table, and the topic fell to politics. Now, as I am sure you know, Ali is my Syrian gardener. He came to Canada as a refugee with his lovely two daughters and wife.

I am so pleased to say his girls are doing to so well. They’re both A grade students now, and are loving high school here in Montreal. Ali himself was a professor at Damascus University in the Biology department. His special interest is, unsurprisingly, botany.

I found it most curious to hear him talk about American politics.

Looking very thoughtful he said in a very considered manner, “it’s really very reminiscent of home.”

He must have seen the look of surprise on my face.

“Really, these rallies Mr. Trump has. They are just like ours back home.”

“I hardly think…”

“It’s just the same. The words are a little different. But other than that, it’s very similar,” Ali insisted

“Ali, it’s completely different,” I protested.

“I’ll admit, our young men were chanting “Death to America”, instead of “Knock her up”, but it’s all the same really.”

I poured a little more tea before pointing out, “I think you’ll find they’re chanting “Lock her up!”

Continue reading “Knock Her Up!”

Hobbs Island Hotel – A Halloween Ghost Story

Hobbs Island Hotel

By Fiona Dobson

When Elizabeth died my world stopped revolving and it seemed my life ground to a halt.  It was an unexpected death, as so many illnesses are, but mercifully swift.

Merciful, that is, for her. It left me with an empty life before me. How many years? I don’t know. I suppose it doesn’t matter.

So it was months later that I found myself waiting on lonely shore, in a gusty wind looking out at the bleak expanse of water, with Hobbs Island several miles distant, feeling desolate. But that was how each day felt at the time. Completely empty. It had been just six months, and my world had gone from full, exciting and fulfilled, to something as forbidding as that shoreline itself.

I should explain. I’d arrived a few days early for the workshop I was scheduled to give, with the intent to use the time to write. I had a piece to complete about the psychology of addiction, and it had been my intention to use those few days to complete the article in the quiet of the retreat. I suppose I should have checked with the organisers more carefully. I’d just assumed the hotel would be open, even though it was out of season.

After walking from the railway station to the quay, I made the call to my contact only to learn that the hotel on Hobbs Island would be closed. As it happened, the owner had been contacted and gave me permission to stay, even though I’d have to fend for myself in the empty old building.

Continue reading “Hobbs Island Hotel – A Halloween Ghost Story”

There’s an intruder in the Queen’s back passage!

I can only say that each time I visit London I find myself captivated by the majesty of the city, and the historic landscape in which I find myself. To think these streets have been trod by several kings, and a multitude of queens is quite overwhelming. I was in the city taking care of some legal business, and took the chance to slip off and do some shopping between meetings.

Sylvester and I were particularly interested in some of the historic slums in a deprived neighborhood called ‘Knightsbridge’. Strangely enough whilst there I saw neither knights nor a bridge, however I came across a cute little corner store named Harrods, which offered a selection of shopping ideas, which is foremost in my mind at the moment. As fall approaches it’s time to start looking for warmer but stylish clothes.  My personal favorite fall look is the sweater dress, and as I had a few minutes to spare I slipped into Harrods to check out what they had on offer. There were some interesting offerings, but ultimately I found myself sidetracked and looking around the lingerie department, as usual. You can see some wonderful examples of what I was after below and the beauty of online shopping is that you need never find yourself sidetracked and perusing lingerie… Right. Moving on.


The traffic in the tiny streets was unbelievably slow. Deciding to walk back to our hotel, Sylvester approached a London Bobby (what we would call a police officer) and asked if the traffic was generally this slow.

“No, sir,” he replied. “There’s been an security alert. An intruder was seen lurking in the Queen’s back passage.”

Sylvester pointed out that we’d had much the same problem on more than one occasion in Canada, at which point the officer told Sylvester it was time to be moving along.

But that’s not the main reason I’m writing today. We’ve been adding new content to the Premium Program recently looking at issues including the trouble with online stalkers, (Do you have one? Do you want one?) and how to deal with them. We’ve also added material around how to recognise when a woman is interested in crossdressing. The Premium Program is really very developed these days. Be sure to sign up if you’d like to take your crossdressing to the next level.

Have a wonderful week.

😊

Fiona

You won’t believe what I found on my doorstep.

On the whole I do not approve of large people with too much facial hair looming in my doorway. Even more so at 3 am.

That was the sight that greeted me this morning. I enjoy my beauty sleep, most of all to protect my looks, but also so I am fresh in the morning to write to my members. And last night, as my very understanding wife was once again traveling, this time at a conference in somewhere called Poughkeepsie, I was enjoying a night of calm sleep wearing a burgundy camisole. When I heard the chiming of the door bell, I pulled on a thick robe and went downstairs to find the henge-like form of Amanda, my wife’s appalling friend, blocking the doorway, like a couch abandoned by someone who had been trying to get it through a door that was marginally too small.

Continue reading “You won’t believe what I found on my doorstep.”

Making the most of summer.

As summer moves toward its gentle close, and the warming glow of the forest fires in the distance thankfully fade, I am forced to remind myself to make the best of the last weeks of this glorious summer.

What better way to celebrate the sun and move toward fall than by enjoying the soft flow and movement of a stylish and comfortable swing dress. I was saying this to myself as Sebastian sat, dejectedly at my table in the kitchen.


 

He was staring intently at his phone, a frown firmly welded to his face.

“What on earth’s the matter?” I said, pouring a glass of organic free range goats milk.

“It’s my sister, Charmaine” he said. “She’s so wonderful. But…”

“But what?” I asked.

“But she’s just posted a picture on her Instagram, and there’s a great big ring on her finger. She’s engaged.”

“What delightful news,” I said with a smile.

“Well, it would be delightful. You see she went to Cuba, a lovely little village, and met this wonderful man she’s fallen in love with.  She flies back every few months and is so in love.”

“But Sebastian, this is wonderful news,” I gushed. “I’m so happy for Charmaine.”

Sebastian’s sister is so sweet. She has been waiting for the right man so long, and finally her prince has come.

“Well, it would be wonderful. Except this last time she flew to Cuba she was supposed to be at her grandmother’s funeral, and cried off saying she was broke.”

“Oh,” I said.

“And since my mother’s now discovered Instagram, it’s only a matter of time till she learns that instead of planting my dear old granny, she was out gallivanting around the place getting herself engaged to a Cuban. I can almost hear the clock ticking.”

I spread the lovely dress out as I sat, and turned to Sebastian to reassure him.

“Darling,” I said, “I’m sure your grandmother wants nothing less than her grand daughter’s happiness. Besides, the old trout will never know. And your mother will get over it. Your sister has found something magical. and that’s really what counts, isn’t it?”

I know my readers well enough to know that you may have a suggestion to help me here. Help me out and use the comments to suggest what Charmaine should tell her mother.

 

Playtime With Fiona 5 – Come and check out my bush!

Such goings on about the place!

Few sights can be more disturbing than Amanda, my wife’s hideous friend, in a two piece bathing suit. It was this unsettling image that greeted me when I arrived home this afternoon following a photoshoot with Bernard at the advertising agency.

Amanda was in our back garden, trying to tan her body, in much the same way that if you leave a piece of leather in the sun it becomes hardened and cracked. As I let Hannibal, my little black and brown Dachshund, out into the garden to my surprise he sprang across the grass and made a leap to bite Amanda’s bikini bottoms. As you can imagine, Amanda’s scream was so shrill you’d think someone were cutting through concrete with a rotary saw.

“Get him away! Get him away,” she screamed. Never before has so much flesh been restrained by so little fabric.

I sipped on my margarita as I watched Hannibal trying to pull the bikini from her. Then said, “Calm down,Amanda. He’s just being affectionate.”

In response Amanda started to run round the garden, arms flailing, with a dachshund hanging from her bum.

“Hannibal,” I mumbled, as I took another sip of my margarita.

“He’s gone rogue!” screamed Amanda.

The last I saw of her she was flapping away down the street, hotly pursued by Hannibal, who doubtless thought it a great game. I suspect I’ll be hearing more about this incident later.

That however, is not the main reason I am writing to you. Tonight is a warm Montreal evening, and it’s the perfect time to listen to the latest Youtube version of Playtime With Fiona. This weekends offering is a special one, and a little unusual. I know you’ll love it. This weekend is also the perfect weekend to experiment with some lighter summer shades of lipstick, a summer shade of eye shadow, and of course some new outfits for the beach or lake.

Feel free to share some pics. Don’t forget you can always submit a photo for me to share on the website here: https://fionadobson.com/your-pics/

Have a wonderful weekend.

Fiona

Kelly’s operation.

This is a rather poignant exchange, used with permission, that shows how some of our members struggle. Life’s hurdles are made more complex for those of us searching for our inner gurl.

I hope you read the following exchange with kindness and the way it’s intended. Kelly is now recovering and you can leave your good wishes in the comments below.  FD

I received this from Kelly some weeks ago –

I found out this morning that my right foot is going to be amputated below the knee. And since the news my place has been people coming and going. Haven’t had a moment to myself to have a good cry. My fault for not getting to the doctors earlier just kept putting it off. So, I will have to wait on this and I was looking forward to enjoying my time of learning more about myself and inner woman. So sorry to have bothered you. Sincerely Kelly


We exchanged a few messages, and this morning this came in.

 

Ah Miss. Fiona,

I had my right leg amputated and now have to wait 8 weeks to heal. Then I’ll go back and have some screws removed all in good time.

Whenever I can sneak away from prying eyes I look at some of the other C.d.ers and wonder to myself how in the world can they wear those dresses and mini skirts and not be noticed that they are men. And some of them are beautiful and gorgeous, I must say.

I look, then think am I am a pervert for looking. It is going to take me a long time to even start, for I have to look in a mirror and get used to the idea that my leg is gone. But what can I say, or do, it’s my fault. But when the time is right I shall jump at the chance once again for to many years neglecting my inner needs.

So with sincerity I will close, and thank you.

Kelly


And here’s my response:

Hi Kelly,

First of all, ‘no’, you’re not a pervert. Those of us who choose to allow the feminine side of our personality to emerge are neither sick nor perverted. We are simply finding our way.

For many people the path is confusing. However, there are some who have blazed a trail and we can learn from them. Primary in our thoughts should be the fact that while we’re searching, it’s really a quest to discover ourselves. As one progresses along this road one realises that it’s more about accepting who we really are than imitating the female form. Acceptance that ‘this is who I am’ is the most important part.

Your amputation does not change ‘who you are’ one iota. There are many genetic females who also have their legs amputated. I cannot begin to imagine being in your shoes – or should I say ‘shoe’ – however, I do think a good idea may be to look at what a feminine amputee might wear. What is considered good for them? You see, nothing has changed. You are who you are; as you embrace that then, sure, you’ll have to deal with the health issue. However, it need not detract from the search for ‘Kelly’.

My thoughts go out to you, and my hopes and prayers. In the meantime, put your best foot forward (an easier choice now) and hop into a brighter future.

🙂

Fiona

And finally: –

Oh thank you Miss Fiona,

Doctor wants me to sit in front of a mirror so my mind can accept the fact my leg is gone. And yes after i go through all this emotional change to my body I will pursue my dreams. Just bear with me on this deal but thank you for the encouraging words.

Sincerely Kelly

 

Please use the comments section below to pass on your best wishes.

Hannibal the vibrating dachshund.

What a strange and disturbing week it has been. Sometimes it takes more than lipstick to keep that smile in place. And yet we do, and the world is still a wonderful place.

Some of you may be aware of my wife’s good friend Amanda, the queen of tweed. As you may remember, she stayed at our house sometime ago, while her house was being fumigated.

Well, Amanda had left a few things at our house and I agreed to take them over to her house. It was not so far off my track as I was walking Hannibal, my pet dachshund, so it was no bother. When I arrived at her house in the early evening the other day I was surprised to find I had arrived while she was taking a shower. She appeared at her doorway looking like a giant panda, in a black and white dressing gown and after letting me in, she asked me to wait in the living room as she slipped into something more comfortable. This was a thought that was truly disturbing in it’s own way, but for my wife’s sake I waited patiently.

As I waited Hannibal did his usual thing of nosing around the place. To my surprise he was preoccupied with something underneath her couch, and while Amanda got dressed in her bedroom. I waited patiently, listening to the snuffling sounds coming from Hannibal, until I was a little disturbed to hear a particular humming sound emanating from beneath the furniture.

A moment later Hannibal appear clutching what can only be described as an adult toy between his teeth. He was chewing it’s silicon form and seemed very surprised that it was fighting back, vibrating away in his mouth. To be fair, his surprise was understandable, the device being almost as large as he is.

Wanting to avoid the embarrassment of Amanda finding Hannibal playing with a personal possession, I tried to grab the object, but thinking this was a game he took off, running first into the kitchen and then into Amanda’s basement. I gingerly followed, cursing his minute form and enormous curiousity.

It was only when I cornered Hannibal that I could wrestle the object from him, at which point I heard Amanda’s enormous feet descending the stairs. I slipped the toy into my pocket and found my way back to the living room as Amanda walked in.

“I’m so sorry to have kept you, it’s simply lovely of you to bring these things over…” There was an awkward pause. I realized Amanda was staring at my jeans. I shifted awkwardly.

“Really, it’s no trouble,” I said. I like to wear tight figure hugging jeans, and usually a pastel tee shirt. It’s a fairly androgynous look, and I find it works if I am not dressing in my femme style.

“Goodness,” said Amanda, unable to avert her eyes from my pants. I glanced at myself and saw the clear and defined outline of the toy. To Amanda I must have appeared extremely glad to see her.

“I should be going,” I said awkwardly, my mind racing, trying to sidle toward the door, and noticing Amanda seemed to be getting between me and the only exit.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I think I’m seeing a new side of you. I am beginning to understand what Maggie sees in you. Perhaps you want to stay a while. A drink perhaps?”

Amanda’s eyes were unashamedly devouring my groin, drawn to my physique by the enormous toy in my pocket.

“I really must go,” I said, trying to hide my aparently enormous embarrasment.

“Oh, no. Before you do, I have that book Maggie was asking to borrow. Let me get it for you!” Amanda rushed off and in a moment I had pushed the device under the sofa, and was turning to walk to the door when Hannibal realized the toy was once again in play. To Hannibal, this is a challenge, first to find it and then to run around with it until someone catches him. To my horror he scurried under the sofa and just as Amanda returned, Hannibal emerged from beneath the furniture with a powerful buzzing sound, moving backwards across the hardwood floor being quite literally vibrated around the room.

“Hannibal,” I said, feigning surprise. “What on earth have you got there?”

There was an awkward chase, culminating in Amanda relieving a strangely satisfied dachshund of the object, and I grabbed the book and headed straight for the door, leaving an embarrassed and confused Amanda to her own devices – literally.

However that is not the main reason I am emailing you. I’ve just put up a new episode of “Playtime With Fiona” on Soundcloud. You can find all my Soundcloud posts HERE.

I’d love to see you in my Premium Program soon. I think you know you’ll enjoy it.

Fiona

PS. If you are not a full member think about signing up – http://genr8tor.com/membership/ . When I see payment go through I will start you on your path. I work though everyone’s messages a couple of times a day and work to get you moving quickly. I know you’ll love it. Email me to let me know you’ve upgraded.

Fiona.

Power it up with Pink!

It’s a wonderful time to color up your wardrobe with some pink sneakers. Here’s a few cool options. These are great for on the beach, or at the fitness studio.


Sebastian, my personal trainer, had always liked me to wear my pink trainers when working out. He tells me that when they are just behind my ears the color offsets the glow of my cheek. He’s a very naughty trainer.

Pink was not always a feminine color, there being several military uniforms of the Napolionic era that included pink trim. Only at the end of the 1800’s did the color begin to take on a feminine undertone. You can learn a little more about the cultural history of ‘pink’ here.

For a crossdresser pink offers the opportunity to introduce an overtly feminine accessory that softens the most manly of presentations. Remember, when buying femme shoe sizes add at least two sizes to convert to a male size. If you have broad feet this may not be enough.

“Shut up and eat your squid, you stupid bitch!” – words for a crossdresser to live by.

Hi,

Today I’m sending you a short message today from Puerto Vallarta in Mexico, and will likely send you an update later this week.  I admit this is me being lazy, but it’s something you may enjoy.

Having a few extra airmiles, I decided to bring Sylvester with me on a quick getaway. I thought that the sun might do him good. Poor fellow spends so much time covered in oil under vehicles, with some enormous tool in his hand, although I am sure that’s some people’s idea of heaven (Mildred!). I’m sure it all gets very frustrating for Sylvester. So, in the spirit of kindness I asked him to join me for a short break on the Pacific coast of Mexico.

It’s a delightful place to visit and very liberal. We feel so welcomed on what can best be described as ‘the fun side of the wall’. Our Mexican friends are not only very liberal, they’re also fun loving and accepting. I’d always recommend this area to my members who want somewhere to escape to where they can find an exciting local scene free of judgement.

It has been a glorious few days, however fate played a curious part when Sylvester ended up sitting in the Skybar pool, chatting to a delightful Afro-American lady. Isn’t it funny when a person just gets carried away, before long their brain just seems to shut down to the gentle sizzling sound of their skin being turned to something resembling bacon as the sun feasts on their fair Northern European flesh.

As we walked down the street later that evening, Sylvester as red as a firetruck that had just had a fresh coat of paint, and myself tottering along the cobbled streets on a pair of lovely new heels, I couldn’t help commenting to my swarthy friend, “Well, at least when people see the two of us, they’ll know I’m the sensible one. They’ll marvel at what you’ve done to yourself, and then say ‘Well, I guess the crossdresser is the good looks and the brains in that equation.’”

“Do you really think people will notice?” said Sylvester.

“Well, only if they can stop laughing long enough to register it. I mean, let’s face it, they’ll have to get past the waves of heat rolling from your body. Perhaps they’ll think you’re in a circus or something. You know, some sort of performer. That or that you were involved in some kind of nuclear accident.”

As I voiced the sentiment, Sylvester shifted uneasily in his shirt, which must have felt like a razor against his beet red skin. We’d ordered some delicious seafood, and I ate as elegantly as I could, while admiring my new shoes at the same time. The food was excellent, and the restaurant, overlooking the old cathedral in the city centre, afforded a wonderful view of the night lit city, alive with parties and fun, and a little lightning dancing on the far seaward horizon.

“Look,” I said to Sylvester, “We should focus on the positive. If it gets chilly in the evening, I can just ask you to move a little closer and you’ll keep me nice and toasty! You’re like some energy efficient heater. Although to be fair you’re really screwing up the global warming thing!”

“Shut up and eat your squid, you bitch!” Said Sylvester with a laugh, and for a moment I was lost in the magical warmth of the night. What lovely words to live by. We should all ‘shut up and eat our squid’ at times, I thought reflectively. And that’s so like Sylvester, really. I leaned over and slapped him on the back in gratitude for his worldly wisdom.

Have a lovely week.

😊

Fiona

Tribute to The Gibson Girl – by Monica

 

You can Follow Monica’s blog here: https://onlymonica.tumblr.com/

Charles Dana Gibson was an illustrator in the late 19th century who created classic drawings of young, pure women with gorgeous hairstyles and bedroom eye looks on divinely beautiful faces. The women depicted were full figured and voluptuous, yet still virtuous. And always refined and feminine. I did this hairstyle myself using one of my wigs, and it took a while to do it. I added a chiffon blouse with and ornate lacy upper bodice and a high ruffled neck, coupled with a genuine vintage Gunne Sax prairie skirt. It was about as Victorian a look as I was able to muster with what I had on hand.

I recently picked up some more Victorian-style blouses, mainly because I kept my eyes peeled for them. Every time I see a Victorian-era film or T.V. show, it increases my interest in the styles. One thing I’m going to try in the not-too-distant future is adding a bustle under some of my roomier long skirts and dresses, just to see if I can pull it off…that is, pull off the look, not the dress…

Monica

Read more about Gibson here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gibson_Girl

Follow Monica’s blog here: https://onlymonica.tumblr.com/