Finding you in good health.

I put my own success and good health down to my adherence to a strict and healthy diet. In Canada we have a wonderful chain of health food stores, called ‘Tim Hortons’. Where ever you roam in this great land you’re never far from a healthy nutritious snack. In fact, I think it fair to say Tim Hortons has become a Canadian institution as identifiable as our polite nature, love of hockey and insistence that we elect a Prime Minister that doesn’t have a serious personality disorder.

As you may know, my wife, Amanda and our neighbour Marjory, are traveling on an ornithological tour of Western Europe.

Amanda, my wife’s appalling friend, has come down with a severe case of Canestin poisoning,  which I understand is rare but not unknown in menopausal lesbians. I hasten to point out that I do not subscribe to Sylvester’s view that when lesbians are exposed to large amounts of oestrogen they run a severe risk of having their ovaries explode. Sylvester somehow equates this to the idea that ‘males have to masturbate at least once a day, or else their testicles burst into flame.’

In my kitchen with Sylvester, Bernard and Max, my neighbours son, I poured the tea.

“Whoever told you that nonsense,” I snapped at Sylvester.

“My mother,” he said.

“Sylvester,” I said in mock protest, “that’s complete nonsense! We all know that Max has to masturbate at least four times a day to prevent such a mishap!”

Young Max blushed and pursed his lips. I smiled at him fondly. Since that embarrassing matter of the carrot, poor Max has been very subdued, poor lamb.

I made the mistake of asking Bernard how he was, since he’d only been out of the hospital a few days.

“It’s all these tests,” he said. “They make me feel like a bloody pin cushion.”

“I’m sure the doctors are doing their best,” I reassured him.

“I’ve become a slave to my prostate,” he said sounding downcast.

“Aren’t we all,” I replied a little uncertainly.

“It seems to rule my life,” he continued.

“How very awkward,” I commiserated.

At that moment the kitchen door was flung open, and in staggered Sebastian. He looked terrible, with a weeks growth of facial hair on his chin.

“Good God, Sebastian! You look like you got interrupted halfway through eating a raw porcupine. What on earth happened?”

Sebastian was shaking with energy. “Just got back from Mexico,” he shouted. His words word tumbling over themselves to get out.

“I did the ayahuasca retreat…It was… It was…” he was stammering his words out, his voice shaking.

“I think you’d better sit down and have a glass of water.” I said.

I decided to call my sister, who works at the local hospital. To cut a long story short, she swung by and using the drug testing kit nurses often carry, she determined that Sebastian’s Ayahuasca retreat could more accurately be described as an LSD retreat. That, and that he’d probably spent the last five days sleeping in a burlap sack. Not bad for a cool $3000.

As my sister was leaving she glanced at Bernard, and said, “Oh, Bernard. I didn’t see you there. I didn’t recognise you from the front.”

My sister does two shifts a week in Proctology.

This week I’d like you to take a good look through my Pinterest for some clothing ideas. As you know, I love my members to experiment. Have a lookand see if there’s anything there that takes your fancy. And before I leave you, I’ve a special request. Help our girlfriends at The Downtown Eastside Women‘s centre. They could use a hand. See the panel below for details.

😊

Fiona

 

Upgrade Now
Let’s make a difference this week. We’re appealing to you to help out some friends of ours. The Downtown Eastside Women’s Centre supports vulnerable women on Vancouver’s Eastside. Mostly these are people who have fallen between the cracks of society’s safety net. We’re focusing on this charity today because it’s in a cool city, it’s a cause I know my members will fall in line with, and because the big charities have the big advertising budgets – and the small ones are often overlooked. This is a small charity, and your gift will make a huge difference. You can support this charity by going HERE and giving something, however small, to help.
Nice Legs, Shame About The Face! Wise words from the early 1980’s. The last verse is the best one. You can always enjoy the Fiona Dobson Playlist HERE.

The Trouble With Threesomes.

You know how it is.  You all get ready, make sure you’re prepared. Everyone takes the proper precautions – you know what I’m saying.

And then it always goes like this.  One person just always, always finishes too soon. They’re way out there on their own having so much fun and then they’re done. Yes, it’s the same every time.


That’s why I never like playing threesomes at my local golf course. Sylvester and I are out there trying to find our balls, and Sebastian, my personal trainer, has already finished and is left polishing the shaft of his 9 iron.
As you can doubtless tell, Sylvester, Sebastian and I are out having a last round of golf before this glorious summer comes to an end.

tumblr_o633arjprr1uxh3kao1_500Bernard is recovering from his heart transplant at home in his bed, though I have noticed since he got the heart of a middle aged African American woman he has started behaving very strangely. He’s made an appointment to meet Amanda, the queen of tweed, and show her his ‘Mamma’s recipe for apple pie,’ and he’s join the local Baptist church choir. They were very confused when he said he wanted to sing in the soprano section.

I’ve always found teeing off in a group of four very much more satisfying. I also like to get off first, so I can feel them all coming up behind me. I’m sure you know what I mean.

But that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you tonight. It’s just to tell you I’ve recently added a new feature to my Premium Program. I’ve always had a great collection of tasks and hypnosis files for my CD friends and members. Now I have added some great new material to the Premium Program for those crossdressers who have a partner who you’d like to bring into your CD activities.

Yes, I’ve put together a special short empowerment course to help your wife or partner (of any gender) take a more dominant role. This fun series of self hypnosis recordings stimulates a more dominant aspect of the subject to emerge. Over the course of several nights they listen to hypnotic instructions that are sure to engage their more dominant self. This, coupled with a powerful set of ‘subservience’ instructions for you – and it’s a powerful tool for anyone wanting to engage their partner in some of their crossdressing.

I know you’ll love it. It’s yet another great reason to upgrade to Premium Program if you haven’t already.

🙂

Fiona.

Let me grab a towel.

Here I am getting this post ready for you in the hotel, on a hot evening here in Chicago. I hardly know where to start, so much has been going on. I suppose I should start by telling you all about Sylvester and the other night.

I wiped my chin and said to Sylvester, “Oh, my goodness!”

It took me a moment to catch my breath. “It wasn’t as salty as I expected. I can hardly believe the quantity!”

“My tool is almost worn out!” Said Sylvester. He held the pliers, and dabbed his face with the napkin. Eating east coast lobster at a fish restaurant in Chicago is a great pleasure, but a very messy one. What did you think we were doing?

Sylvester was wrestling the last bit of lobster meat from within the claw. What a character he his. Always with a tool in his hand! As I am sure you know, he’s my mechanic and friend. We flew down together to visit Bernard in the hospital who was recovering in hospital..

I should explain. If you followed last weeks email you’ll know that Bernard managed to get himself Tazered in the arrivals lounge of O’Hare airport. That is far from where the drama ended.

He was rushed through to the hospital, and there – to my horror – they found that Bernard, who had become so excited by certain aspects of my physique, was in the middle of a heart attack. I had thought he looked rather like a freshly landed trout as he convulsed following his Tazering, but not being familiar with how one generally responds to a Tazer, I thought this quite normal.

Fiona’s Crossdressing Blog

Even the police officer who gave Bernard the jolt looked quite concerned. He even showed up in the hospital as Sylvester and I were visiting. Bernard was still unconscious, and here we were three days later.

The police officer walked into the private room I arranged for Bernard, and held out his hand. “Officer Speltman,” he said. “You can call me Sparky.”

“Sparky,” said Sylvester. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah… They gave me that nickname at the academy. It kinda stuck…”

“Well, Sparky,” I said, “I’m Bernard’s friend. I’m sure he would be grateful you came and visited. If he were, you  know… conscious.”

“I’m sorry he got the jolt.  I didn’t really have a choice in the circumstances.”

I took the business card Officer Speltman offered and said I would call him when we had further news. Then Sylvester and I went and found a hotel, and a fish restaurant at which to have some dinner.

“I still don’t quite understand why Bernard didn’t get up when the cop told him to,” said Sylvester.

“I think he was concerned about his clothing being… disarranged. He was in a state of some excitement.” I felt awkward telling Sylvester that Bernard had a prominent erection and was concerned about embarrassing himself when he stood up. “Let’s just say he was hard at work, when it happened.”

The following morning I had a call from the hospital with the worrying news that Bernard was extremely ill and that the hospital was doing it’s best to locate a heart for a transplant. I am, of course, quite shocked – as I am sure you are. I will keep you informed. (See what happened next by going here: https://fionadobson.com/bernard/zipper-job/)

In the meantime, I have a very special self hypnosis file for you tonight.

This file is all about taking it to the next level, so join me in a lovely relaxing self hypnosis exercise and have a listen. And of course, I will be sure to let you know about developments with Bernard.

🙂

Fiona

Bernard Gets A Shock.

Well, I hardly know where to start! This week was eventful, to say the very least. On Friday night last week, Bernard my photographer called me very urgently to tell me he needed me to get ready to fly to Hawaii to do a shoot.

Usually I have a little time to prepare, but we ended up flying out on Saturday morning to the spectacular Pacific island I love so very much. Poor little Bernard. He has been under a lot of pressure lately. What with all that travel, and deadlines, and goodness knows what. Anyway, by the time we headed back to Chicago, where we had a meeting on Tuesday, I had noticed he was not looking well.

Bernard has been very odd lately. As you likely know he’s about 48, I would guess. He’s like a sort of uncle to me, I suppose. However, of late he’s been very curious about me, and has been even a little amorous. It’s flattering, but I must say, when I play I usually like to play a little below my age.  I think you know what I mean.

Now, I often love to travel in yoga pants, as they are just so comfortable, and show off my legs nicely. I had noticed Bernard looking at me in a somewhat hungry way. I think you know, I do like to tease him a little, but – well, I really don’t think what happened was my fault. Really.

So, we arrived at O’Hare airport and were waiting for our bags  in the arrival area. What happened was rather extraordinary. I slipped off to the ladies, noticing how Bernard was watching my bum as I walked to the bathroom, and freshened my make up and swapped my travel tee shirt for a fresh one. I always do this, as I like to arrive feeling clean and fresh. I slipped on my heels, which I’d been carrying in my shoulder bag, and brushed my hair. I must say I did look very exciting.

When I stepped out of the bathroom some excitement was going on in the terminal, and I walked back to wear Bernard was. There was some sort of security people running about. Bernard was watching me as I walked, very poised in my heels, toward him. I could tell his excitement was all about me. He was sitting, clutching his Starbucks coffee in his lap.

Now, I have a pretty good idea when a guy looks at me and gets ‘excited’. Bernards baggy cargo shorts were, how should I phrase this, ‘a little disarranged’ by his excitement. His eyes were practically popping out of his head as I walked over to him, turned and sat beside him.

Now, that’s when things began to go wrong. One of those handsome police officers and his friend came running our way, and getting people to move to the far end of the arrivals hall. He shouted at us to stand up, and carry our bags to the far end of the hall. I stood up, but as I glanced at Bernard, I could see he was hesitating. I quickly realised that in his state of excitement it would be very embarrassing for poor little Bernard.

I  leaned over him, and his eyes dropped to my cleavage. I said, “Bernard, we really should go!”

He looked worried, and said, “Wait, errr… errr…”

And then this police officer was suddenly shouting for Bernard to stand up, and the poor dear was white as a sheet. Next thing I know Bernard is being Tazered and twitching like a freshly landed trout.

Later, when I got home and was telling Ali, who was working in my front garden, his first comment to me was, “No, they can’t do that!”

“Well, he did!” I explained.

“But he’s not even black!” said Ali.

“You can’t say that,” I admonished Ali. “In America every one is equally unequal under the law. You need to remember that!”

Silly old Ali! Anyway, Bernard ends up rushed off to hospital. It was terrible, although I must say the nurses had very nice little uniforms. I was quite taken with them. As I say, I can’t bring myself to feel responsible, but theren is a moral to this story. If a policeman asks you to move, even if you have an erection, it may be a good idea to comply!

I shall be sure to keep you informed about Bernard’s progress. He’s currently in the hospital. I am most concerned. I shall put together a nice outfit and go back to visit him after the weekend.

Now, that was not the main reason I am writing to you. I have a lovely new sound file for you.

I know you will want me to keep you informed of Bernard’s progress, so I shall be sure to let you know how he is.

Have a lovely weekend!

🙂

Fiona

PS – If you’re reading this on my blog, you can jump to here to find out what happened next.

Unhand that banana!

Hi,

Seldom, if ever, do I like to come between friends (calm down Amber, in Colorado). Yet this morning I came down the stairs having had a refreshing shower to find Sylvester shaking Sebastian vigorously by the neck. I leaped in, interposing myself (phrasing) between them, my colorful summer swing dress swishing about me.

“Calm down, boys!” I said, as I struggled to hold them apart.

“I will not calm down!” said Sylvester, still fuming. “He said he wants me in a three way!”

I glanced at Sebastian. I’d always had my suspicions. He glared at me, Sylvester’s grip loosening.

“Sylvester, I think you should put Sebastian down. He’s gone a funny color. Besides, you might enjoy…”

“I was trying to explain three way calling,” chimed in Sebastian, as the color came back to his face. “All I said was, “would you like to join Max and I in a three way?””

 

“Well, I think I see where the confusion’s crept in,” I said. “Perhaps Max and you could help Sebastian get a little more utility from his smart phone. You know, Sylvester, I’ve seen your messages that end with that quaint little expression, “Sent from a phone that’s smarter than I am.” I think in your case it might well be true.”

Thirty minutes later Sylvester was being watched by three of us marveling as he attempted to open a Soundcloud song that had been shared over Watsapp.

“It’s quite remarkable,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s like watching a monkey try to operate a type writer.”

“Come on, Sylvester. You’ve got 999,999 more tries to go! Given enough time,” said Sebastian very softly, “some people believe that enough monkeys would type the complete works of Shakespeare.”

You could almost feel the gears inside Sylvester’s head grinding. He frowned again, and prodded the file in the Watsapp window.

“999,998.” Said Sebastian softly.

Max moved toward the fruit bowl, so kindly made by one of my members, and reached for a banana.

“Don’t,” I said to Max reproachfully.

But that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you today. I thought I’d share a rather wonderful BBC article with you. In this piece about the people of Guna Yala, their unusual lifestyle is examined. As a child develops they are allowed to move toward a more male or female orientation. While this is still essentially binary in nature there is clearly a more equal approach to gender. There is also a greater choice in how the Guna present themselves. It’s a fascinating read and I hope you enjoy it.

As summer moves toward its close, you may like to think about a lovely swing dress.  You can find some ideas here. There’s also an opportunity there to help out Sebastian’s sister, who’s got herself into a bit of a bind. Maybe you’ve got an idea how to help her out.

Don’t forget, we’ve started one on one coaching sessions, and our Premium Program is growing all the time.

Have a lovely week,

🙂

Fiona

Continue reading “Unhand that banana!”

Are you ready for your massage ;) ?

Are you ready for your massage 😉

Hi,

It’s the night before Christmas eve here in Huckleberry Close, and I have had the most extraordinary text message from Bernard. As you may know, Bernard’s health has not been good recently. Between being tazered and shot in the chest with a carrot, he’s had quite a year.

With this in mind he traveled to England for Christmas, where he has some family, and checked himself into a rather eccentric sounding health farm near something called ‘Newmarket’. He’s being treated at “The Devil’s Dyke Centre for Alternative Health.” This immediately had me thinking of a friend of mine who recently divorced her lesbian wife. As you might have guessed the divorce is not going well.

Bernard’s text read: “Hope all is well. Love to the crew. Just waiting for the nurse to give me my evening massage.   😉 “

Now, I don’t mean to be pedantic, but that smiley winkey face at the conclusion of the message did give me pause for thought. At the time SylvesterAli and I were enjoying a few glasses of eggnog while I modeled a new gown I recently treated myself to, and Ali showed us a traditional arab jalabiyyah. Needless to say, Sylvester wore his Carhartt pants, and frankly I think Ali and I looked considerably more presentable than our swarthy friend.

Amanda had joined us, ‘popping in’ as she does, not unlike a visit from the plague. We all sat around the log fire in my living room and enjoyed the winter evening.

Making conversation, Sylvester said, “I see Bernard’s started using emoji’s. I don’t think he’s quite got the hang of it yet.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I said, showing them both the recent text. “I mean, really. What is one to make of that?”

The eggnog was fortified with substantial amounts of brandy, which neutralizes the sweetness a little, though does not reduce the calories, to Amanda’s disappointment. I’ve been making this recipe for years, and it was given to me by my grandmother.

Ali passed on the eggnog, but Amanda drank it deeply. I could tell she’d had more than is wise from her slightly slurred speech.

“Where on earth do you get this,” asked Amanda looking at her glass. “It’s so smooth!”

“Oh,” I replied modestly, “it’s just something I knocked up.”

“Rather like your first wife,” I heard her mutter under her breath.

Just then Sylvester got to his feet to refill his glass, nudged the table and Amanda’s glass toppled into her lap covering her with eggnog. She yelped like a… Well, like a startled pig, and got to her feet.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Sylvester gushed.

“Don’t worry, Amanda. I’ll find you something.” I said and trotted off upstairs to get her a skirt. Perhaps I could find a discarded garden tent upstairs. No, that’s a little unkind, I suppose. I looked among the clothes, and returned with something suitable.

I handed the skirt to Amanda and she disappeared to change, leaving us all enjoying the warmth of the fire.

I turned to find Sylvester texting Bernard. “Just covered Amanda’s pants with eggnog. 😊”

A text came back from Bernard a moment later – “Can’t chat, going in for colonic irrigation! 😉”

“Wow,” said Sylvester. “They really know how to have fun in England.”

With that Sylvester disappeared upstairs to the bathroom, leaving Ali and I to talk about how he and his family were enjoying their second Christmas in Canada. He told me how well his daughter had settled in at school, and how his wife had managed to find a good job in the bank. It wasn’t until ten minutes or so had passed that I realized both Sylvester and Amanda were still absent.

I glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece.

“How very odd,” I said to Ali. “I wonder what could have happened to Sylvester?”

Ali turned his eyes toward the heavens, or one of the bedrooms upstairs, depending on your point of view. He had an ominous look on his face as our eyes met.

“Just how much brandy is in that stuff,” asked Ali.

“Enough.” I said. Sylvester is Italian.

I hope you are enjoying the run up to Christmas. We will be here through the holiday looking after all our friends and members. I’m thrilled to say we’ve been getting a lot of new members in to My Little Black Book. If by chance you are alone this Christmas it’s a great idea to get into My Little Black Book and message some of our other members. They’re all keen to hear from others and make new connections, and we all love to connect, however distant, at this time of year.

Merry Christmas,

😊

Fiona

How much eggnog is enough?
Chastity Devices – Breast Forms – Wigs – Corsets

Date some of my new crossdressing members.

Crossdressing success starts with a desire to create a certain look. What’s your look?

“I can see his nuts from here!” said Bernard, looking through his long lens as he photographed one of the squirrels in my garden. As fall replaces summer my garden is a hive of activity, with the wildlife all preparing for the onset of winter.

And that’s precisely why I thought you’d be interested in the new members joining My Little Black Book. We have so many new members this month, I can barely keep up.

You can now sign up for just $2.95 a month here: https://gumroad.com/products/mMgcZ

Be sure to email me after you’ve signed up, so I can get you set up nice and swiftly.

Continuing crossdressing adventures, and leotards!

Hi,

I am pleased to report that Bernard is making a slow but healthy recovery and seems to be over the worst after his unfortunate encounter with a carrot. I visited him this morning and when I arrived home from the hospital I found my wife’s appalling friend Amanda at my house. Max had let her in, something I’d warned him about, but he seemed to have forgotten. I was a little irritated as I had a lot on, and had to get to a jazzercise class which would start shortly.

As I hurried in Max silently mouthed his apology.

“Hello, Amanda,” I said as I heard her beige trouser suit rustle in my direction and she appeared from the living room. “Have you been having fun on the newsdesk?”

“Why, what have you heard?” she replied nervously.

I couldn’t really imagine what fun one could have on the newsdesk of Pig And Pig Farmer Weekly, but didn’t waste too much time thinking about it.

“I wasn’t expecting you today,” I said. Had I known she’d be coming I would have been out.

“Well, I thought I’d stop by. Leo’s with me today,” she said, and glanced over her shoulder into the living room.

I should explain, and I’d like to do this with the sympathy and delicacy this subject deserves, that Leo is what we used to call ‘developmentally disadvantaged.’ He is a very sweet young man, but has never really progressed beyond the early stages of mental development. Now, I should point out that in Canada we have a very inclusive approach to those less fortunate than ourselves, and we embrace those less able than the rest of us. It’s a point on which we stand with great national pride. Not withstanding my recent unfortunate episode with a homeless person, I believe we measure ourselves as a nation by how we treat the less fortunate. To us, universal healthcare at no cost whatsoever, for example, is an absolute no brainer. Which, in it’s way makes what happened this afternoon even more difficult to relate.

I made my apologies to Amanda and said I had to hurry to get ready for my Jazzercise class, and had to change, and so hurried upstairs. I had washed and prepared a few things, and as I gathered them together and put them in my bag, I realised I’d left some clothes lying in the living room.

I called down to Max, who came upstairs.

“Max,” I said, “I seem to have left some things in the living room. Some tights and a leotard, they’re probably in the living room. Can you be a sweetheart and see if you can find them. I think they may be lying over the back of the chair by the window.

With that I changed out of my office clothes and into a light summer dress. I’d slip into my dancewear at the studio.

It was then that I heard a commotion from downstairs, and the slamming of the front door. From my bedroom window I saw Amanda hurry to her Prius, and help her brother Leo into the passenger seat. I couldn’t think what had caused such a commotion, and a moment later Max was politely knocking on my bedroom door.

I opened it and stepped out.

“What on earth was that all about?” I asked.

“I think I must have said something to upset Amanda… I don’t know what I did. She just erupted.”

“Max, calm down. I’m sure it’s nothing.  Just tell me what you said.”

Max followed me downstairs, and recounted his words.

“I just walked into the living room and said to Amanda that you were changing upstairs and I had come down to find a leotard that was lying around in the living room.”

“That’s all you said?”

“Yes,” he said looking hurt.

“Those were your exact words?” I pressed him.

For a moment he closed his eyes, and then in a moment of reflection he said, “No, wait a moment… I came through that door, and then I said “Is there a leotard lying around in here?”… And that’s when she took off in a huff!”

“Oh,” I replied.  “You don’t think she thought you were referring to her brother, do you? I mean, his name is Leo… and he is… well, you know.”

We looked at each other ashamed of ourselves. I felt pretty sure I had an awkward phone call ahead to make to Amanda.

But that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you today. I thought I’d drop you a line and tell you about some of the spectacular leotards that you can find on my website. Yes, I know what you’re thinking. That’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it? They’re versatile and fun, and as you’ll see can be worn either in a very femme way, or quite an androgynous manner. Check out the page on my site that tells you about them and you’ll find they’re fun and can make you look great.

Till next week.

😊

Fiona

If your mum comes in while you’re watching this, switch to porn whatever you do. It’s just easier to explain away!

Fire and Furry.

I’m emailing you having just returned from the heart unit, where I am happy to relate that Bernard is in the process of recovery from his rather unfortunate incident with a carrot.  This is much to the relief of Max, who for a moment thought he may have blood (or rather carrot juice) on his hands after shooting Bernard with the aid of Sebastian’s motorcycle. If this is all a bit confusing you may be able to catch up here.

I arrived home to find Sylvester sitting at my kitchen table looking more confused than a Trump supporter who had recently learned that he’d won a months free food at Hooters, only to discover that he had to complete a skill testing question asking him to calculate the area of a square measuring 2 inches by 2 inches, before being eligible to collect his prize. I asked Sylvester what could possibly be wrong.

“It’s this business with North Korea. My dad was out there years ago, and that didn’t go so well,” said Sylvester.

Now, in case you’ve been living under a rock – which might be the safest place to be under the circumstances – then you might be unaware that people are talking about the possibility of nuclear war. At times like this one is forced to ask the big questions. ‘What’s it all for?’, and ‘Isn’t there hope for humanity?’, and ‘What does one really wear for Armageddon?’.

As I looked down at my troubled friend, I was forced to conclude that one should always look on the bright side, and dress up for the occasion. Seeing Sylvester’s legs, also brought something else to mind, and consider that this is a man who looks like a gorilla and a fridge got together and created a baby.
I am of course talking about the need to deal with body hair when one crossdresses. The need to look one’s best supersedes all other considerations as the nuclear clock ticks toward midnight. Sylvester’s legs are very hairy, and if one is to meet one’s end looking fabulous either waxing it off, or at least disguising the body hair is a great place to start.

Not all of my members are able to shave their legs. For those who discretely dress without the knowledge of their partners, suddenly appearing without leg hair may be something of a give away. One member did successfully claim that their new swimming regime required them to remove as much body hair as possible, but this isn’t going to fly for some members.

In the quest to disguise body hair the fishnet pantyhose are your friends. Better still, try a fishnet body stocking. No one should be without one, in my opinion. If you’re unable to find one locally, you can follow this link and order one on my website.

So, the question remains, faced with the unpleasant eventuality of nuclear annihilation, what would your outfit be? Personally, I think nice summer dress and some heels, pretty pink bra and panties. Feel free to let me know.

Now don’t forget, you can now join My Little Black Book for just $2.95 a month by using this link – https://gumroad.com/l/mMgcZ.  Be sure to let me know once you’ve paid and I’ll get you set up.

😊

Fiona