As you probably know Auntie Kittie does like to keep a close hand on her nieces and nephews. And what a naughty little group they are. Always up to some mischief or another.
As you likely know, Auntie Kittie splits her time between here in Huckleberry Close, and travelling to South Africa, where she is a school governor. What a responsibility it is, forming those malleable young minds into sensible adults.
And of course, now and then someone comes along that Auntie needs to discipline and remind them that they can be so much more than their poor behavior might suggest. For that very reason she does apply her own very special brand of discipline.
She does so love to share her diary with all of my Good Gurls. Think of it as her setting a good example for you to follow.
So many sissies need Auntie’s guidance. Perhaps you feel the need too. And Auntie is always keen to hear from new ‘nephews’. All you need to do to help her out is explore some of her posts here and see what tweaks your interest. If something does, then be sure to join my Good Gurls, and get special access to Auntie Kittie’s diary.
I was delighted yesterday when Norman, one of my nephews
appeared at my door in the early afternoon.
It is his birthday, and his mother had asked me to keep him occupied for
a few hours as she wanted him out of the house while a surprise birthday party
was prepared.
Naturally I was thrilled he would be spending a few hours with me, and decided he deserved a treat. As we got into my car I told him I was so pleased he was going to help me with the shopping and that I felt sure he’d enjoy it every bit as much as I knew I would.
“Does your mother shop at Yvette’s Lingerie?” I asked as we set off in the car.
As my little nephew Gerald was helping me with a few personal tasks the other day I asked myself, I wonder how my favorite little sissy is doing? How are you getting along, ? I’m sure you’d just love to be in his place. Why just this afternoon he was helping me.
“That’s it, Gerald, stir it round and round the bowl. Faster. Here let me help you,” and to be extra helpful I stood behind him, my breasts against his shoulders as I reached around and vigorously stirred the cake mix. I really do work up a little sweat as I work away at it! It’s just as well I have a strong right arm.
Poor little Gerald, he’s quite overcome!
“Oh no!” I said as I lifted the bowl and placed it on the counter. “Some of the cake mix has dripped from the spoon right between my… my… chest.”
“Can I lick it,” asked little Gerald.
“Gerald!” I exclaimed. “Oh, you mean the spoon! Of course.”
After such a busy afternoon in the kitchen I think I’d better go and get a towel to clean up. After all, I want little Gerald to look forward to coming again and again and learning to help in the kitchen.
Join me for just $1 a month and I’m sure I can give you something special too! You may even want to join my Whatsapp Group and chat with other CDs and sissies, if you’ve not done so already.
When Auntie showed me her selection for all her gurls I was thrilled at her choice. Don’t you think they’re just adorable? Auntie has a selection of other goodies here – https://fionadobson.com/auntie-kitties-goodies/
Check them out today and see if they’re right for you!
I do find it irritating in the extreme when Rainbow wanders in announcing that she’s ‘a complete ‘ditz’ when it comes to technology stuff’. Really, there’s no such word as ‘ditz’, and it’s not technology ‘stuff’!
“Look, you daft bat,” is what I should have said. But instead I said, “Look, if you want to get even more out of the website, all you have to do is register, and then log in. You can leave comments, connect with people, and do all sorts of things.”
“That sounds wonderful,” she said. “And I get one of those ‘Profiles’ that people can see?”
I let out a sigh and then explain “Yes, you get a profile. And of course you can put a picture up.”
I have to tell you that I love to read the comments on the posts. The one’s on My First Time are some of the best. I know that many members find that there is some very helpful content among them. If you click on the tags at the end of any of the posts you can drill down on the subject. It’s pretty clever.
I also feel that now, especially as Twitter is likely to be changing, providing my members with a place they can communicate and express their ideas seems more important than ever. If you’d like to participate be sure to:
Log in regularly and participate by posting comments.
And now, I have to take care of Auntie Kittie, who is coming up the road clutching her latest diary entry, written in a pink notebook! God, you’d think she could learn to email it! And just to round things off, Amanda seems to be arriving next door, and heading this way.
She’s waving and saying something about having a german shepherd’s head buried in her crotch. I think she’s been walking down at the dog park. Or not.
I am going to share a little secret with you. I
just love to dress my nephews. Actually, anyone for that matter. I know it’s a
little shocking, but that’s just the kind of girl I am.
The first time I do so is usually for punishment of some sort. Perhaps a transgression, either real or imagined, but I have the excuse. I usually do something like tell them that to learn respect they must wear something of my daughters – perhaps these lovely pink panties that I have conveniently to hand. An hour or so of that will give them the chance to consider their misdemeanors properly.
I hand them some silk lacy panties from a draw of
her things which I’ve kept since she moved out to go to university. They take
them, looking nervous, and then always look at me with those big eyes of the
totally subservient. I’ve done this many times though. They will find no pity there. I know precisely
what I am doing.
They take them, usually a little unsure, and then one of two things happen. Either they take them and run upstairs and put them on or they drop their pants and slip out of their underwear and slide them on.
It’s a wonderful moment when all the cousins join in.
I will then generally tell them to pull up their
pants and that I will let them know when they can change back. Of course, I
have a terrible memory and promptly forget. Or so they think.
The next time I decide to do this I will usually
insist they wear tights as well. I have several pairs pink and white tights,
they look very girly. I do so love the way they look. I can usually tell that
my nephews are a little excited by the prospect.
The second time I rarely go very much further, preferring
the poor little scamps to get used to it. And they do. I have sent the little monsters to my
daughters room as a punishment before, only to surprise them after a few
minutes and find them trying on her skirts or a blouse.
By the third time it’s usually evident that they’re
not only excited by the prospect, but secretly craving it. That’s usually when
I insist on calling them by a nice feminine name. Gerald becomes Geraldine, or Jeanie.
Phillip becomes Phillipa or Pippa. I know they love that. The blush on their
cheek tells me so.
I do wonder what these little seedlings will grow to be. I do know that they will bring great pleasure to their friends, though. And in the end, isn’t that what it’s all about?
I’d love it if you’d join as a Good Gurl, as I need to get just a few more members. And remember, for just $4.99 a month you get not only my diary, but also Clothes Maketh The Man, some wonderful hypnosis MP3’s and more a whole lot more. Join up today and help me build up my followers.
I’ve popped over to Fiona’s place to give her my diary entry. As luck would have it she’s having a little soiree and the liquor cabinet is unusually accessible. I’ve just dropped in to give Fiona this message.
So, as you may have guessed I am back from visiting St. Bernedette’s School For Gurls. You know, I do love to travel to South Africa, and life in the Natal foothills is really quite lovely. It’s a little like going back in time.
The post is still delivered by the nice young postman, and I often ride into the nearby town of Jabulani on horseback, along with Jack the handyman at the school. Jabulani is about five miles from the school, and a lovely ride in the Natal morning sunshine. The school has a small stable of a dozen horses. Every morning Jack and I would get some exercise taking one or two of the gurls and riding to town to bring back the fresh milk.
Those sultry mornings, with a little mist in the distance, climbing on the back of a well trained pony, and setting out across the veldt, it was quite beautiful. The gurls laughing and chasing along with me, Little Michaela, her ginger hair flowing behind her as we fly across the ground in the morning sun. Quite serene. And Jack the handyman trying to keep pace. He’s a little older, of course and we have to wait for him from time to time.
Once in the nearby village we’d put a few cartons of milk in our packs from the store, and then race back to the school stables. And of course finally we’d help Jack off his horse.
It all seems a million miles away from the cooler weather I have come back to. And Canada is really much more modern and genteel. Things in South Africa seem so much more, I suppose the word is ‘primal’. Everything is more literal and immediate. So, when one of the maids came to me and said they didn’t know what to do about the schools pet dog, ‘Cesar’ chasing after the postman every morning I pointed out that the best way to deal with that would obviously be to neuter him.
Well, as I explained to the poor man later, I had been referring to the dog when I said, ‘neuter him’. These things happen though. Best to move forward and not get bogged down in the details, though I do have some sympathy for the poor fellow.
How lovely it is to be back, though. My nieces and nephews have offered to help me get my Christmas tree up, and I’m looking forward to standing on a chair as my nephew Gerald looks up at me as I place a fairy on the top of the Christmas tree. How well dressed this tree really is. I suppose I should now turn my attentions to young Gerald.
How very kind he is to help me get it up. I’m sure, given the opportunity, you’d do the same.
But now I have to give this account to Max, who is going to post it online for me. He’s so much better at technology than I am. I shall go and sit on his knee and simper, it usually works with him, the little puppy! I’ll just stop off and refill my coffee cup with Bailey’s.
So much naughtiness among my nephews and nieces this week. What is a busy auntie to do?
Even young Gerald, usually so devoted, forgot to bring his swimming costume over when he and my nieces were going to play in the garden, and I was forced to have him slip into one of my daughter’s swimming costumes.
It was a tight squeeze, but he managed to get himself suitably arranged. Goodness, the things I am asked to do! Is there no lengths to which I will not go for my nephews?
I’ve decided they should all have uniforms to suitably remind themselves to be prepared in future. What do you think? A good idea?
Check out this delightful one and let me know what you think. Don’t forget, if you join me as Good Gurl member you’ll get my special diary and so much more for just $1 a month. Use the link below.
It’s so nice that my little nephew Gerald has decided to have his birthday party in my garden. My nieces are all making a big fuss of him and making sure he has a delightful day. He’s had a lovely collection of simple but thoughtful presents.
Somehow, and who knows how these things happen, I managed to mix up his gift and ended up giving him a carefully wrapped gift of panties which I’d set aside for my niece, Stacey! How very embarrassing for little Gerald, opening that present in front of all his friends. He blushed so prettily as his fingers touched the lovely pink ruffle of the panties. My nieces giggled wildly, and teased him a little, and even told him he should try them on. I really don’t know where they get such ideas!
On this lovely summer’s afternoon they’re all outside running about, and I have baked a lovely cake, adorned with candles. I’ve told him, “You can take it outside to your friends, and then blow them out in the garden.”
I don’t know for the life of me why Stacey and the girls found this so funny, but they were giggling away like a pack of starlings.
I know that there will be a clown arriving shortly, and Narcalepto, a local celebrity narcoleptic plate spinner. I hope he’s using his own plates this time.
Gerald seems really quite excited. I hope you are too. Have a lovely day,
Sylvester was in my garden this morning enjoying a glass of my freshly made lemonade, hand squeezed and made from a recipe I enjoy.
“I do hope you’re like this, Sylvester, I juiced my lemons this morning especially for you,” I said.
Sylvester stared at my chest and then took another sip. You know he really can be quite coarse.
I do find fresh lemonade is a great way to refresh myself on these warm west coast days. Here’s a useful recipe if you have yet to make lemonade yourself. Now, I’m not saying Auntie Kittie has a problem with alcohol, but the moment I added a little gin to the mix her head appeared over the back gate to my garden and she gave a dainty wave.
“Is any body home,” she called out staring at the gin bottle.
And then she was in. Really, what can I do!
Not to be derailed from the job at hand, I sat the two of them down and told them of something that’s been on my mind of late. I am often asked by members and their wives, ‘does crossdressing mean I’m going to be a worse husband?’ I had one such discussion this morning with a member whose husband was, ironically, a veterinarian.
Auntie Kittie topped up her lemonade with a healthy belt of gin and turned to me and said, “Of course it doesn’t.”
Sylvester glanced at Auntie Kittie and thankfully kept quiet. She is an expert on marriage having had two husbands. Widowed twice by the age of sixty is by some measures, quite an achievement.
“My poor Willard used to love to wear a nice frock from time to time,” she went on. “Of course, he was a slave to his prostate…”
She left that one hanging in the air. I wasn’t quite sure how to go on from there.
Surprisingly, Sylvester chimed in, “didn’t I see some statistics recently saying that people who are in the non-binary category are 23% more likely than the other adults to own a dog or cat?”
“Yes, ” I said. “Max pulled up those stats the other day.”
“Well, that suggests they’d be more likely to be sympathetic. You know, having a slightly more gentle nature,” mused Sylvester.
I stared at him, and said, “Well, done Sylvester. I think you just made your first emotionally intelligent observation. I do believe you’re becoming more sensitive. There’s hope for you and all other Neanderthal men out there. Next you’ll stop trying to light your farts at the church picnic.”
Sylvester looked a little morose at this and muttered something about that only happening on the one occasion.
But that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you today. I thought I’d share something Jules and Lenni did last night. In the lovely west coast city of Vancouver Jericho Beach Kayak organised a Pride Paddle for the LGBTQ community. This sunset paddle was joined by 40 or so paddlers in their kayaks on English Bay. This is an great initiative and a positive way to support the local community. I wanted to share this and suggest that if you are in an area where outdoor sports like kayaking are popular this type of event might be a great way to promote the local community during Pride. Suggesting it to local kayak or sailing clubs benefits us all.
I am always so pleased to see one of my little nephews coming up the path to my house. They are all growing so fast. Today I was in the garden trimming my hedge when little Gerald appeared.
“Oh Gerald, it’s so nice to see you!” I said as he appeared with his school books.
“Auntie, do you have time to help me with my homework,” he asked.
“Of course,” I replied. “Do you mind helping me in the garden for a little first, and then we can do it together.”
“Of course, Auntie.” He’s such a good boy.
“I’d like you to hold the ladder while I climb up and trim the top of the hedge.”
He hurried off and brought the ladder from the shed and then came over to where I was trimming the foliage.
I smiled at Gerald and explained, “I always like to trim my bush. After all,” I added, “you never know who’s going to be looking at it!”
As Gerald held the ladder I climbed to the top and began trimming the errant growth. The, looking across at the bay, and the mountains, I said to Gerald, “I can see for miles, it’s a terrific view from here.”
Gerald replied, “Yes Auntie. From here too.”
I glanced down at where he was looking up at me.
“Excuse me,” I said.
“There’s a lovely view from your garden,” said Gerald quickly, as he flushed red.
When I’d finished trimming the hedge we came indoors and I put on the tea. Gerald got out his homework and started working away at math problems.
“Would you like Chinese, Gerald,” I asked, feeling like take out was a good idea.
“Oh yes,” he replied.
I looked at one of the online menus, and I must say my mouth was watering.
“Mmmm,” I said. “I think sweet and sour pork…”
Gerald looked at one of his math problems and then asked me, “Auntie, which do you think is the odd one out. 9, 12, 14, and 15.”
I answered him swiftly, “Gerald, it’s obviously number 14.”
“That’s what I thought,” he replied. “But why?”
“Oh Gerald,” I sighed. “It’s because it’s the only one that comes with rice.”
Martin arrived this morning to help me with my shopping, he’s such a good little boy. He cycled over. I’ve been encouraging him to ride a little more since a taxi frightened him by blowing their horn as he cycled by recently.
He rang the bell of the pink bicycle he was riding in my yard and came rushing in.
“Auntie, you won’t believe what I have between my legs,” he said excitedly.
“Really?” I said a little surprised.
“Oh yes, Miranda said I could borrow her bicycle. It’s much bigger than mine and it’s fun to ride.”
“Of course it is, Martin,” I said, “and don’t let anyone ever tell you that size isn’t important. I especially like the pink tassles and the unicorn motif. How kind of your sister to let you have a go.”
“Miranda is the bomb,” he replied enthusiastically.
“Oh, she’s the best! She let’s me use lots of her things.”
“I am sure she does, Martin,” I said gathering up a couple of bags to take shopping. “Help auntie with these bags, so we don’t have to use those nasty single use plastic bags in the store. We care about the environment, don’t we Martin.”
“Yes, auntie,” said Martin.
We climbed into the car and in a moment were off to get the groceries. After a quick run round the shop to get some organic vegetables and a few tasty treats we came home in time to see Fiona and her personal trainer Sebastian going for a run. They stopped outside my house in Huckleberry Close for a moment to catch their breath.
“Good morning, Martin,” said Fiona to my nephew. “How are your parents, I’ve not seen them for a while?”
“Oh they’re very busy this morning. They’ve been upstairs banging since I woke up,” came his innocent reply.
“Really,” I replied, noticing that Fiona was looking a little confused standing there in her little tennis skirt and trainers, her chest still heaving as she was a little out of breath.
“Oh yes, they’re putting together some new furniture from Ikea,” said the little scamp.
“Mummy’s very good at it,” he chimed in with enthusiasm, and continued “but that it’s sometimes better for Daddy to watch because his tool isn’t very big. She prefers to use her own equipment or get a man in, she says, but she likes Dad to watch. It’s just like you say, Auntie. Size really does matter!”
I glanced awkwardly at Fiona as Martin carried on.
“Mummy’s good with her hands. Everyone says that. She’s very creative you know.”
I said, “I am sure she is. Now let’s hurry in and make some tea. Then we can get some oil and put it on that chain on your bicycle.”
“Mummy likes to put oil…”
“That’s enough, Martin.” I cut little Martin off and hurried him inside. One never knows what these little ones will say next. My nieces and nephews are such little scamps.
Have you been a good boy for Auntie? You can be a special star for me by going onto Fiona’s website and adding a comment on her new page, Member Experiences – where you can tell some of your own story. Be sure to mention that Auntie sent you.
A fun competition. Figure out the link between the video below and Auntie’s Diary entry and I will give you free Good Gurl membership if you you’re not already a member. Email me on fdobson@zoho.com with your answer. The first 10 get free membership. FD.
I think you know how naughty Auntie Kittie can be. She’s sked me to make this very special hypnosis file available to you so that you can enjoy being made to be one of her little nephews.
All you need do is sign up for her special emails and then settle down quietly and enjoy this lovely hypnosis file.
Heavens, what is Auntie Kittie up to now? She’s so excited about the new content in her program I can hardly keep her from bubbling over with excitement. I know you’re going to love what she’s got to share with you.
As she often says, “I feel like I’m overflowing with fun things for the Good Gurls to do!”
I think I know what she means. I know she can help you up, in so many ways. Be sure to slip into her warm and welcome program. At just $1 a month I know she’ll be happy to come up with something special for you if you join as a good gurl.
Have you signed up for her special content? You can always join her free program below.
My goodness what a surprise to see young Gerald over at my place when I got home from a meeting of my book club this afternoon. Poor little mite was sitting on the doorstep looking most sorry for himself, waiting for me to get home.
I should explain. I go out to my book club every second Wednesday. I do enjoy it, as we often hold it over at Fiona’s. She’s such a good host, and always provides some of her excellent South African wine. We then discuss a book we’re reading and then just for fun do a game of charades, in which we each mime a book we’ve read in the past. Of course, we are not allowed to say the name of the book, and can only indicate it through the use of mime in the minute and a half we allow each person. I can only say that Fiona seemed terribly thrilled to do Howards End, though she was terribly frustrated once trying to finish off Three Men In A Boat in under 90 seconds.
It appears Gerald has been having trouble with his homework. This week he has to make a list of all the things in his room. As you know I am a school governor at St. Bernadette’s School For Gurls, and I know away around the curriculum. Naturally I can help Gerald.
I told Gerald to write down all the things he could remember while I made a nice cup of tea. When I’d finished I came over and looked over his shoulder. Goodness, his handwriting has improved. As I looked over his shoulder, and told him what a good by he was, I noticed he’d written down one of the items twice.
“Oh, Gerald. You’ve down so well,” I said. “Maybe you should just stay there a moment while I make a quick correction.”
With that I leaned over and quickly helped him rub one out.
“There,” I said gently. “Isn’t that much better”
He seemed so much more relaxed once we’d finished. I think I know why Gerald always calls me his favorite auntie, don’t you?
What excitements this morning! I had a call from Sylvester, my mechanic, asking if he could possibly borrow Ali to help him.
“What on earth for?” I asked.
“I need some help fixing the church’s bus and all my staff are off this weekend. You know that young pastor who’s organising the charity picnic this year? He’s the one Mistress Meg knows . Well, the bus has broken down and he needs it quickly so he can take the guests later today out to where they have the event. He really shouldn’t be driving that thing,” said Sylvester.
“Goodness,” I said. “I’m sure Ali would be happy to help. I’ll ask him to get down to your workshop as quick as his slipper-clad feet can carry him. Are there many people going to this picnic?”
“The pastor has invited the sick, the needy and the impotent,” said Sylvester.
“Well, that’s quite a lot of people,” I replied.
“I understand the sick and the needy will be there, but the impotent couldn’t come.”
“What a shame,” I said.
And so by late morning I was walking down to Sylvester’s workshop laden with some lunch for the boys. I’d made a nice pie and some sandwiches. As I entered the workshop I could see Sylvester half lost beneath the bonnet, but no sign of Ali. The bus was jacked up with one wheel off and part of the exhaust system on the work bench.
“Hello… I’ve brought you lunch. Is Ali about,” I asked.
“He’s under the back of the bus working on the suspension,” replied Sylvester. “He’s in the wheel well.”
“Isn’t that a bit dangerous,” I said feeling quite concerned.
“Oh no, he’s fine. The bus is jacked up properly,” insisted Sylvester.
“Goodness me, you wouldn’t want him to hurt himself. He might fall out?” I continued.
At that very moment Auntie Kittie arrived at the workshop, brandishing a bottle of wine.
“Too soon?” She asked holding out the wine bottle.
“It’s never too soon to open the wine,” I replied.
As you can imagine, once the bus was nicely fixed we all enjoyed a glass of wine and the offerings I’d brought. Needless to say the pastor got his bus and all went well.
But that isn’t the main reason I’m writing to you. I thought I’d just remind you that if you haven’t already joined my Good Gurls, just $1 a month gives you some wonderful offerings from Auntie Kittie, and myself. Be sure to sign up if you’ve not done so already.
It’s up to us to live to a higher standard than others.
With Sebastian strutting around in his cycling shorts, and Auntie Kittie coming over to offer me some of her specially imported organic coconut sunblock, anyone would think that going outside in this glorious weather is some sort of sin. However, it is important to look after ourselves in this extraordinary heat.
It is more important than ever to moisturize – personally I like a nice aloe based moisturizer – and also to drink plenty of water. Adding to this a good quality sunblock is a wonderful idea. I have started working early in the day and having a break by the time the day is hot, then going back to my endless labours in the early evening when the day is cooler. It’s a slightly different regime, but one I learned while living in the hottest parts of Africa. There is no point getting over heated and having headaches and the misery of sunstroke.
This stunning weather does give us the opportunity to wear some suitable clothes that are perfect for the twenty-first century crossdresser. Swimshorts, a tee shirt and a pair of sandals. Add lipstick and a little eye makeup and you’re there. You may not quite be Daisy Duke, but that is all a bit 1970’s anyway. I’m not sure Daisy would quite work today, sliding across the bonnet of an electric vehicle and roaring off down a country road listening to Taylor Swift. Nor can I see Sheriff Roscoe taking gender sensitivity training and a course in critical race theory.
I was discussing this with Sylvester this very morning. I explained how today we are all more ‘woke’.
“It’s all those energy drinks,” he replied.
“What?” I answered feeling like one of us was losing their grip.
“The caffeine.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “We’re more ‘woke’, not more ‘awake’. Besides I don’t even touch those things. They’re bad for you.”
“I don’t get all this ‘woke’ stuff,” grumbled Sylvester.
“As far as I can make out, it means we’re more aware of racial issues. And gender ones. And age ones. And some other things.”
“You mean we’re more considerate?”
“I guess,” I replied.
“That reminds me, there was something I wanted to talk to you about,” went on Sylvester.
“Go ahead,” I replied, ever my helpful self.
“Have you ever been hit on by someone in authority? I mean, I know you’re…”
“Yes,” I replied expectantly.
“You’re not like some other people,” said Sylvester awkwardly.
“You mean I have tits, wear lipstick and have a dick? Yes. I am slightly different, but that’s no one’s business but my own,” I replied enjoying Sylvester’s discomfort.
“Well, I know this is a difficult subject, but…” continued Sylvester squirming.
“Sylvester, this is me. You can talk to me about anything.”
“I wondered if you’d ever been hit on by anyone who was your boss, or something like that.”
I must admit I was intrigued by Sylvester’s line of questioning.
“Well, there’s been one or two incidents. I’m pretty abrasive with people that I get a confrontational vibe from, though.”
“It’s just my brothers teenage daughter got hit on by her boss at the store she works at,” I wondered what you thought about it.
I was a little surprised, mostly that any employer could be so stupid.
“It’s a horrible fact, and one that many men don’t understand, but as I understand it many women do get unwanted attention at work. We sort of assume it doesn’t happen, but it does. Actually, it happens all the time. Now, having said that, most young women do learn to deal with it. I know it’s wrong that it would be that way, but many women just deal with it. However, my best advice is to get her a good lawyer, and then have her choose a nice Caribbean island to go and visit with the settlement that is likely to follow.”
“I was shocked,” said Sylvester. “It was all so ‘low level’.”
“What do you mean,” I asked.
“Well, he just approached her and asked if she’d go for a drink,” said Sylvester.
“Unfortunately that’s often the way these things do look. Somewhat harmless and low key. But then, when it’s time for her review she’ll find that the colleague that went out for that drink does a little better than she did. It’s horrible, and it’s insidious,” I said and paused. “It’s a weird thing. It’s easy to see abuse when it’s obvious. When it’s subtle it’s more difficult. And you know what? As a person who has lived much of their life ‘in trousers’ it has never happened to me, at least not as a teenager. So I can never say I’ve lived through that kind of subtle abuse.”
“But that’s good, isn’t it?” countered Sylvester.
“Well, I’m glad I’ve not been bullied like that, however subtle it may have been. But to be honest, I can’t say I’ve lived the ‘female life’ in that sense. I think this is a difficult area for many people who identify as female. The fact is I’ve been fortunate enough to have many advantages of being male. Having said that, it didn’t feel that way when I got a beating or two for being too girly for some people. My journey has different struggles. But I sympathise and I see how unfair it is on young women.”
“And this happens a lot?”
“It happens all the time, which is why we have to be so supportive of young women who are taken advantage of. I’m fortunate enough to work at an agency where even a hint of such behaviour would have the senior person fired and escorted out of the building before their feet touched the ground. People who act like that are a liability to the company, as well as being bullies.”
“Well, it doesn’t happen in my business,” said Sylvester a little defensively.
“I should hope not,” I replied. It’s worth noting that Sylvester runs a workshop servicing vehicles and has a fairly mixed group of employees.
“And it never happened to you?” he continued.
“Oh gosh, no,” I sighed. “I thought it might when I was at summer camp once, but the camp counsellor found out I was trans and then wasn’t interested.”
“Huh,” said Sylvester with a puzzled look on his face. “I’m not quite sure what to make of that.”
“Yes,” I replied. “That’s what he said.”
Stay hydrated and enjoy the sun, and remember, it’s not just the climate that’s changing.
I’ve been sorting a few things out in my house for summer, and as I have no doubt you can imagine in this heat I’ve found a little help from my nephews helps a great deal. Moving some of the furniture to give my place a lighter and more spacious feel has made it so much nicer in the heat.
In my living room is my husbands old sea chest, one of my last mementos of the dear man. He disappeared in the south seas many years ago, though I don’t really like to talk about it. Needless to say, as a widow I do like to keep some of his things about the place, even if it has been 25 years since he went beyond his last horizon. I used to put a few photographs of him and his shipmates on it all arranged nicely in their frames, but they’re all packed away now.
“Goodness, Auntie,” said my nephew Gerald. “You really do have a big chest,” trying to move it.
“Ah, yes,” I replied. “And not so very long ago it was covered in seamen.”
