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You won’t believe what Sebastian is covered in!
You won’t believe what Sebastian is covered in!
Hi,
Sebastian, my personal trainer, was standing in my kitchen, looking distraught. It’s not a good look for a slim man in spandex. He’d cycled over to my place for a coffee.
âThe stuffâs everywhere,â he moaned. âI canât move in my apartment, thereâs so much Jiz everywhere!â
âIâm sorry?â I said, adjusting the peach colored silk robe I was wearing. I had just waxed my legs and chest and the soft silk felt magnificent on my skin.
âItâs all over the place!â He went on.
âSebastian,â I said, âWhat on earth are you talking about?â
âItâs the week of the Junior and Intermediate Zumba challenge. Everyone down at the gym enters.â
âIs that a âthingâ?â I asked.
âI get to do the Jiz thing every year, and every year itâs a nightmare. I just get overwhelmed. And this year, honestly, I think Iâve taken as much as I can take. Iâve bitten off more than I can chew and Iâm practically choking on it!â
âI believe the expression is âgaggingâ.â I added, helpfully.
âAll the other personal trainers down at the gym leave it to me, and every year I just get sucked in!â
âI wonder why,â I said rhetorically.
âMy whole place is covered in the stuff to arrange it, costumes, posters. I even had to design them myself.â Sebastian reached into his back pack and brought out a folded-up poster.
âOh, Let me see it,â I said trying to sound enthusiastic.
âYes, of course. Your friend Amanda helped me with it.â
âAmanda is my wifeâs friend,â I pointed out. Because she edits a trade publication, Pig And Pig Farmer, Amanda considers herself something of a media mogul. I think youâll agree thatâs a bit of a stretch.
Sebastian unfolded the poster. An image of two young dancers, breathlessly whirling across the floor filled the page, with the headline, âItâs Jiz Time! Youâll be glad you came.â
Sebastian looked at it thoughtfully. âThey wouldnât let me put it up at Starbucks. They got quite snotty about it.â
âI wonder why,â I said.
But thatâs not the main reason Iâm writing to you today. Itâs going to be spring soon, so itâs time to start getting ready with some new looks for Spring. I thought Iâd make a couple of suggestions, to help you along.
Spring is a time to emphasise the soft pastels, using both cosmetics and clothes that lift and brighten their surroundings. This is a great time, if you donât dress outside of the house, to bring some more feminine colors into your selection of clothes that youâd wear day to day.
If you wear glasses, think about getting a pair that are softer and more blended to your skin. Be prepared to experiment with your daily look, softening it with colors that convey gentle forms. Hard black frames may be better replaced with a softer color, for example.
As you color your life more gently, you may be surprised to find yourself feeling more gentle. Youâre going to love that. You may well find that wearing pastels and muted colors contributes to a more gentle mood, and as you look the way you know you should, you start to feel the way you should, too.
I sincerely hope you are enjoying the news I share with you. You can participate and comment even more at http://FionaDobson.com
Have a great week,
đ
Fiona
Continuing crossdressing adventures, and leotards!
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Look what I found on my doorstep at 3 am!
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 pink teddie. 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 “Look what I found on my doorstep at 3 am!”
Be careful who you let walk your dog.
I am very proud of my legs. As Sebastian, my personal trainer has often commented, during our yoga practice, I am able to place my legs in some most unusual positions. As I was doing âdownward dogâ the other morning I felt first a twinge and then one knee collapsed, and I was revisited by some damage incurred during an old skiing accident.
I am very happy with my general health, however in the fall, now and then, I get a twinge. It passes within a week or so, and then I am back to tip top health, but this week I am very slow. I know you are wondering what all this has to do anything, but I felt I should confide in you, as what I am about to say might sound just a little odd.
Part of my morning fitness routine, usually following my morning swim with Sebastian â he really does enjoy giving me a morning work out â is to walk my dog, Hannibal. Now, some of you may remember Hannibal has had more than one run in with Amanda over the years. He once found a marital aid under her sofa and the resulting drama was traumatising for myself and my poor little dachshund. He saw Sebastianâs homeopath for PTSD for several weeks. Petâs Traumatic Stress Disorder is not a widely recognized, at least not in the DSM, but if you were exposed to Amandaâs adult toy collection I guarantee youâd not be the same person after the experience.
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.”