I could not help noticing, whilst driving home from the advertising agency the other day, the names on the back of vehicles. The model names of vehicles are of interest to me, from both the branding perspective and what it tells me about the drivers.
A therapist member of mine recently pointed out to me that several of their erectile dysfunction clients did indeed drive muscle cars, in more than one instance a Hummer. Frankly I feel anyone driving a Hummer should be on their knees begging forgiveness from their children as they pump heat into an increasingly fragile environment. On the other hand, given the erectile dysfunction issues associate with Hummer ownership theirs a good chance that having children is one complication these thoughtless tools will not have to concern themselves with.
Sylvester, on the other hand has shunned the muscles cars
and even removed the photo on his office wall of him posing with his Dodge
Penetrator 3000. I am pleased to see him mellowing. I do remember the day he
pulled up outside my house, on his phone calling me to tell me he was there.
“I’m just pulling into your garage,” he said. “No wait, I’m
reversing. Pulling in again… backing up,
and going in again now. Perhaps I should go in the laneway round the back. I
can get the back way, but it’s a bit tight.”
You know, I may have said this before, but Sylvester can be
quite coarse at times.
Personally I like to drive a Buick Vagina. It’s the limited Silhouette
edition. So much more my style. Both feminine and powerful, with the twin turbo
V6 with the cuddle seats option.
Vehicle names and designs do tell us a lot about their
drivers. I noticed a Kia Soul in the traffic as I was driving home, and I can
only speculate that some Korean designer sat down and thought hard about what a
car designed for Spongebob Squarepants might look like, and then took up the
challenge to build it. Ironically the driver of this particular vehicle did
look like a cartoon character.
Sebastian, my vegetarian personal trainer, drives a Kia Hymen when not riding his electric bicycle. His sister, Rainbow, drives a Nissan Slide with a synchromatic gearbox. Amanda drives a Prius, which is entirely predictable, while of course Ali, my gardener, drives the Smart Car with a rifle rack on the rear window, adapted to carry his gardening tools. He’s proud to declare he always shows up with his hoes.
One of my Vancouver members, Lenni, is originally from
Alaska, and proudly tells of her mother having driven a Ford LTD wagon. This vehicle,
with a 7.5 litre engine has the dubious distinction of being capable of hitting
a moose, killing it, and then being able to transport it back to the trailor
park for butchering. I can’t help thinking life in Alaska holds wonders I am
pleased not to have either witnessed or shared.
Instead I think I’ll go and get Sylvester to change the
fluids in my Buick Vagina.
I was lamenting the passing of our Queen yesterday, along with a huge number of people. My voice need hardly be added to the outpouring of regret by so many others, and yet I do feel a sense of loss. The Queen was, after all, an influence my entire life, and there’s no doubt about it, whatever else she was, she really was a likeable sort of monarch.
It was fitting that I wore a nice black sweater, black stockings and a black kilt yesterday. On that slightly mournful note, I have some lovely crossdressing funeral ideas HERE.
After my yoga session this morning I was sitting in my kitchen, enjoying a calming cup of tea with Sebastian, when he started telling me the news about his sister, Rainbow.
“Rainbow’s not seeing that optician anymore,” said Sebastian a little mournfully.
“I’m sorry,” I said, confused.
“They’ve broken up. It’s a pity, I think he was very good for her,” continued Sebastian. “Apparently when she said she couldn’t see him anymore he told her to stand a little closer, and then said ‘And now?’”
I looked at Sebastian and tried to figure out if he was joking.
“Well, Rainbow has some unusual ideas,” I said.
“She certainly does. She told me she felt their energies didn’t ‘co-mingle’ they way she wanted,” he concluded, looking through the window into the far distance in deep contemplation.
I tell you this as much as anything to set the scene. The window that overlooks my garden is really quite lovely but of late I have had Ali trimming some of the bushes just around the base of the window. He’s a talented gardener, and moves quite silently about the place, his long white gown floating like some ethereal gardening spirit. Now and then he stands up, his head appearing in my wind, and says something before once again going down on hands and knees working on among the foliage of my beautiful flowers. It can be quite disconcerting at times. He’s just like a Syrian Jack In The Box, appearing out of nowhere. It can be quite startling.
It was in this tranquil scene of quiet contemplation as I sipped my chamomile tea that Ali’s wizened head appeared, rising out of nowhere and chimed in, “Tits like coconuts.”
I steadied my nerves as Ali sank out of my line of vision, and then rising and leaning out of the window looked down into the flower beds and said, “I beg your pardon?”
Sebastian struggled back onto his stool.
Ali surfaced back into view and replied, “You were saying how much you like the birdsong of summer, and wanted to attract more birds into your garden.”
I stared blankly before remembering a conversation we’d had just the other day. I do like to attract wildlife into the garden, and had asked Ali if he had any thoughts on the matter.
“Oh yes,” he went on. “Lot’s of birds love coconuts. If you hang them on a string from one of the trees it’s sure to attract a few. You know, tits, chaffinches and sparrows. They all love coconuts.”
I slowly sat down once more, and thanked Ali for his contribution to the conversation. I really do wonder just how much English he understands, at times. I may have to talk with his English teacher.
I do hope you’re having a delightful end of summer. Be sure to have a look around the website – there’s a lot there and I always try to keep things fun.
Now that summer is marching down the garden path toward my back gate and fall is introducing herself at the front door I turn to ideas about putting together a new wardrobe. I was pondering this, and putting a few thoughts together on Pinterest ( https://www.pinterest.ca/fionadobson22/ ) just this morning. As I did so Sebastian came into my kitchen looking quite disturbed.
As you know, I like to think of myself as a caring soul, a sort of Florence Nightingale in yoga pants. Sacrifice and humility are my two middle names. Yes, that seems a very fitting description. I applied a little lipstick and asked Sebastian to share his deepest concerns with me.
“My sister, Rainbow, has taken off,” he said, sounding quite disturbed.
This morning, just as I was emerging from my morning yoga session, I was surprised to see Max (my neighbour’s son), huffing and puffing and coming in my rear entrance, a bundle of excited youthful anticipation. He was hurrying up the garden path, as I pulled up my yoga pants, and adjusted my hair.
Sebastian, my personal trainer, was as surprised as I was myself. He likes to come early to stretch me, as I’m sure my regular members are aware.
“Fiona,” said Max, bursting into my kitchen. “Can I take a look at your beaver?”
As you probably know, yesterday was Canada Day. It’s a tradition in Huckleberry Close, to come over to my house on Canada Day, and look at my beaver – a beautiful piece of taxidermy – the centrepiece of the Canada Day party I always throw on the Canada Day Weekend, to celebrate us throwing off the shackles of oppressive colonialism before Canada declared itself free of tyrannical rule from London. Actually, that’s not really true. We just all sort of agreed that we’d have a new flag and continue to be the friends we’ve always been. No one was being either tyrannical or oppressive, but it’s a good excuse for a party. And the centre piece of the party is my beaver, a stuffed animal that has become something of a mascot over the years. It’s traditional for us to enjoy some lovely Canadian Wines, from British Columbia (a place that is neither British nor Columbian), swap hockey stories and talk about Zamboni’s while apologizing to one another. We all eat poutine and make fun of people we love from Newfoundland, and generally act in an understated but quietly superior way, while listening to The Tragically Hip, 54 40, Five Man Electrical Band, Rush and many other great Canadian bands.
I told Max, “Darling, calm down. My beaver is open to everyone, just give me a moment to prepare it! You’ll get your turn. Just don’t get too excited. It’s Canada Day, you’ll have to pace yourself.”
We have so many wonderful traditions in Canada. Being Canadian means so many wonderful things to all the peoples of our country. We love our diversity, our first nations people and our democracy, which we value enough to protect.
If Max gets over excited, of course, it will be over before it’s really started. It can happen to us all. I handed him a pot of maple syrup and suggested he put it out on the garden table while I went down to get the noble beast, and then he could examine my beaver to his hearts content.
This year’s wine of choice is Quill, a distinctive Rose from Vancouver Island, which is quite delightful and goes rather well with the short skirt I’m wearing. It’s light, a little cheeky and subtly stimulating. The wine’s not bad either. I know we’ll be toasting Sylvester, who has decided to commit to a course learning to drive a Zamboni at the local hockey arena. I must get things ready for the party shortly, so this will be a short email.
It may come as a surprise to some of you, but Marjory (my delightful lesbian neighbor) got her hand stuck in my beaver recently while trying to replace some of the stuffing. She was wedged right in there! I know what you’re thinking, what was she of all people doing, jammed up there? Well, she does fancy herself as something of an amateur taxidermist. Strange woman. She’s from Alaska, you know. Eventually we got her hand out, but ever since she’s been acting most strangely. She’s said on more than one occasion that she wishes her hands were a little smaller. I can’t think why! It’s almost as though she’s never heard of lube. I understand it softens the skin nicely and taxidermists swear by it.
I hurried down to the basement and found my beaver, then carried it up to my garden table, already bathed in warm summer sunshine. In the sunlight I could see it has begun to look a little tired. I suppose one can not be surprised. After all, my beaver has been fingered by many over the passing years. And yet, surprisingly it continues to put a contented smile on many of my friends faces. However, I do believe a beaver should be well groomed and well presented. I will speak to my local taxidermist and have him restuff it later this month.
With this in mind I resolved to make a Canada Day offer to all my friends and members. Anyone who emails me with the words in the subject line “Fiona, I’ll stuff your beaver!” before the end of Canada Day weekend, July 3rd, can have a free membership to My Little Black Book. This is worth $2.95 a month for crossdressing gurls, and $4.95 a month to Admirers. So, get your digits moving and I can help get some more members in there.
I stepped out of the warm stream of the shower knowing Sebastian and Sylvester were downstairs waiting for me in the breakfast room. After pulling on some panties, a robe and my pink fluffy slippers I hurried down the stairs.
Sebastian and Sylvester were at the table. I’d completed a particularly rigorous dawn yoga session with Sebastian. If my hips were any more open you could have driven a train up there. As luck would have it Sylvester had offered to make us breakfast. While usually a coarse oaf, Sylvester has the capacity to be quite sweet at times.
As I glided into the kitchen Sylvester was serving up a delightful grilled breakfast, the sausages sizzling fresh off the skillet. A good start to the day is a lot easier with a breakfast like this. And breakfast is really the most important meal of the day. The bacon was glistening with flavor and the tomatoes came from Ali’s own garden. Quite lovely.
“It’s the damndest thing,” I said staring at the plate.
Sylvester looked at my plate and said “what’s wrong with it?”
“No, not the food. It’s just I had the weirdest dream last night.”
Sebastian asked, “What did you dream?”
I closed my eyes and tried to remember how it all went.
“There were a few of us downtown. And there was this guy who had died.”
“Who was he?” asked Sylvester.
“I don’t know. It’s not important. Just some stiff,” I replied.
“Anyway they wouldn’t let him in the graveyard because the church said they didn’t have room. But everyone knew it was because he was queer. So, there was this drag queen. She was lovely. Let’s call her ‘Carlotta’.., and I. And we stole the body and buried her up in the church yard anyway.”
“You know they don’t let you do that,” said Sylvester.
“It was a dream,” I protested. “And we went up there and buried this guy. And then we did other stuff. Loads of stuff… And I had this lovely long velvet riding dress, like in that English serial. And Carlotta had these sequins on her pants and a gold cowboy hat and these huge guns with pearl inlays and a smoked blue gunmetal finish. A pair of 44s. Matching nails. Did I say we were on horses?”
“I know all about Carlotta’s 44s. How many of you were there,” asked Sylvester, a canny look in his eye.
“I believe it was seven. Seven trannies and drag queens. And one was bald. I’m not quite sure what her deal was. Yes, that sounds about right. You have no idea how much glitter that is.” I replied.
“Yes, you just dreamed The Magnificent Seven. That’s one of the best movies ever made,” said Sylvester.
“I thought it was a fantasy about masculinity and white privilege wrapped up in a self righteous superior message, all avoiding the whole gun thing, and how it’s a penis substitute and actually they’d all rather be playing with their wieners. Except Yul Brynner. No, If he was coming after me with that huge weapon of his. Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t be running away all that fast.” I replied. “Can you imagine,” I said my thoughts drifting off. “…falling, and Yul leaning over you and reaching down and pulling you to your feet, and grabbing a great handful of ass and ripping….” My voice tailed off. Sometimes I do forget not to speak my thoughts.
I continued, “But, yes, still one of the best movies ever made.”
Bringing a note of levity to the conversation Sebastian chimed in, “They’re all gone now…”
And what a time it would be to have a magnificent seven. With trans rights, and democracy itself on the ropes, we see so many hard won advances in decline. Things will turn around again soon. And in the meantime I think we have to support our trans sisters, regardless of what stage they are at, wherever we find them. Remember, you’re not alone. There are many of us here.
I am sending this as I hurry off to my optician for some replacement glasses. Just this morning I noticed Sebastian, my personal trainer, has some new frames and how good they looked on him.
“Sebastian,” I said while working on some core exercises, “I must say those new glasses do look good on you.”
“Oh thank you, Fiona,” he replied standing over me.
“Yes,” I said breathlessly, “I do like it when a man splashes out on a nice pair.”
But that’s not the main reason I’m writing. For those of you following Andrea’s adventures in Clothes Maketh The Man, you’ll be thrilled to know that Part 54 is now out. Andrea finds herself slipping deeper into trouble all the time. And now she’s mucking out a stable with a pair of trannies and a pitchfork. Enjoy part 54 of Clothes Maketh The Man HERE.
Ali has been here in Canada for several years now, having arrived as a refugee along with his lovely family from Syria. As I have mentioned before he was a botany professor in Damascus University prior to the war there, and is now my gardener. His knowledge of fauna and flora really is most extensive.
Arriving from a country such as Syria one does have to check some of the experiences and baggage that we bring, at the door – as it were. Jeff, who looks after immigration at our local airport, says that most immigrants are all too ready to let go of the past and look forward to their new life in Canada. And many, like Ali, bring some wonderful talents to our communities, regardless of what they may have done in the past. Like many of us, Ali does not talk much about his former life. I imagine it could be quite dark but have had few glimpses of what it may have entailed. It’s really none of my business.
Jeff takes great pride in telling me that he checks the passports of all immigrants arriving at the airport (other than when he’s on his lunch break or picking up his kids from school). He says that Canada accepts the poor, the disadvantaged and the impotent. He then rather sheepishly adds that unfortunately, while the poor and disadvantaged regularly show up, unfortunately the impotent couldn’t come.
Ali’s language skills, however, appear to still require some polish. As I sat drinking my morning tea in my kitchen Ali joined me and flicked through the local paper that had just been delivered. I had just finished my daily yoga workout and was still in my pink leggings and powder blue sports bra, that’s so good for working out.
He took his tea black and was quite absorbed in the paper.
“It says here,” he said at length, ”that the city is going to have a ‘pilot racoon cull’.”
“It’s about time,” I said, knowing how mischievous the racoon population of Huckleberry Close can be. “They’re too clever by half.”
Ali frowned as he read the article.
“It’s just that you wouldn’t think they could do that,” he replied.
“What do you mean?” I said sensing something amiss.
Sipping his tea Ali continued reading without looking up and turned the page. “You’d think they’d fail the eye test. I did.”
I sometimes wonder about Ali and his command of English. It is, however, better than my command of his obscure dialect of Arabic. I’d given up my attempts to learn his language after failing to master such a simple phrase as “Is it safe to drink the water in this hospital?”
We all of us have our own particular perspective that brings a bit of ourselves to all we observe. As a crossdressing non-binary person, when I see a Zebra I do not take offence at the black and white nature of the creature. Ali, on the other hand, sees a majestic beast of the African plains while Sebastian sees a walking barcode. He then goes on to pretend to scan it in much the same way as the checkout girl in the corner store, and adds, “At least it’s easy to keep track of them.”
We all of us have our divergent ways of looking at things and each is equally correct. As trans people I think we have to learn acceptance of others with views that don’t align with our own. They, like us, are travelling their own journey. As people who are often misunderstood, it is up to us to try to understand others – the good, the bad and the ugly – with kindness and without judgement.
But that is not the main reason I’ve written to you this morning. I’ve been adding new content to some of my programs. They are now even better value than ever. Be sure to join if you’ve not done so already. I always do my very best for my lovely members.
I’ve been having some dreadful trouble with my colon lately. Now, I know what you’re thinking, but ever since Max changed some of the settings on my computer keyboard I just keep getting a problem with it! I think he reset the layout to the French keyboard!
In the cold wintery weather we’re having I’m going to remind all my girls the importance of moisturizing your skin. Using a nice aloe cream helps, and you can find them at any pharmacy or health food store. It keeps you looking fresh and really helps your skin. You can also find some here.
I am busily chatting with a few of the suppliers who sometimes give some great discounts to my members. It’s always nice to nail down an agreement with a company that provides great clothes and makeup for my members. Be sure to check out my shopping list here.
I can see Ali working on my bush, in the garden – he’s saying something about that not being the only thing that going to get nailed. Ali’s English is very selectively intermittent.
Now, if you’re not already a member I suggest you do join up soon, whether you choose to as a Good Gurl, for just $1 a month, or one of the more extensive programs.
Oh, I have to go now… I can see Auntie Kittie heading up the drive, I’d better hide the sherry!
Have a lovely week and be sure to let me know how you’re getting on.
The winter months are always fun in an advertising agency. Even more so for myself, as I have several skiing related accounts. It was this that brought me, Bernard my photographer and Sebastian, my personal trainer to the beautiful mountain village of Whistler in Beautiful British Columbia this week.
I found myself here partly to oversee the photography for a ski manufacturer’s latest high end products, and also for a resort client located in the Village. As part of the week’s activity I found myself skiing with a small group of journalists, all eager to test the manufacturers new products.
Before the main days skiing, I had the opportunity to brush up my skills a little with Bernard. There I was, in my tight ski suit, stretching and preparing.
In the comfort of my hotel room, Sebastian helped me refine my style and posture for fast downhill skiing. Sebastian can be very useful on a trip like this. You’d be surprised what he gets up to.
“That’s it,” he said, pressing his hand into the small of my back. “Lean forward and stick your bum out.”
“Now bend your legs, and flatten your back.”
I found the position strangely familiar.
“If you move your hips from side to side,” he said standing behind me, “you’ll find it feel even more fluid.” Sebastian seemed quite breathless.
“Yes,” I gasped feeling my body getting into the exercise. “It’s a very enjoyable sensation,” I said as I moved my body languidly back and forth.
Now, I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but all this stretching and preparation seemed to get Sebastian quite excited. I could swear he poked me in the back with his ski pole!
As it happened I did very well on the slopes. At the end of the week of skiing we had a race down the mountain from the peak, a very exciting informal race. I thought I might be beaten by a number of the boys, but as you might guess, try as they might – and through no small effort on my part – I managed to beat them off and cross the finish line leading by a head.
After that it was up to the hot tub to watch the snow falling on the mountain in the twighlight.
But that’s not the main reason I’m writing. I thought I’d send you a quick reminder that with Spring just around the corner it’s time to start looking for some new Spring colors. This year putting together easy combinations of colors in underwear, makeup and outwear should be every CD’s priority. When was the last time you matched your eyeshadow to your favorite lingerie? Well, todays a great day to start planning ahead.
Got any great Spring outfit ideas? Get on the website and share them!
“Push your bum back a bit,” said Sebastian, maneuvering behind me.
“Oh, Sebastian,” I said, perspiration dripping from my brow.
“That’s better,” he said pressing his hand into the small of my back.
As you probably know, Sebastian is my personal trainer. We often do yoga sessions together. Some of these yoga positions are really quite challenging. As we move into the cooler weather I do find I like to lift up the intensity of my exercise regime. And Sebastian is a treasure, I really do enjoy getting it up with him. My yoga is very important to me.
I also find that with the cooler weather I like to dress in suitably warmer clothes, and the opportunity to explore new styles is a source of great joy. I enjoy wearing a kilt, and know there are many other members, some who cannot overtly dress in femme clothing but can wear a kilt from time to time. A kilt is a very good way to gradually introduce more androgynous clothing into your repertoire.
This week, as an exercise perhaps you can check out a few ideas for kilts online – here’s a start.
I also loved the tights below. They have a nice tartan imprint. I do have some distant Scottish heritage and used to spend every Christmas on the Isle Of Skye. I even got lost in Dunvegan Castle once as a child. But one thing I do enjoy is watching the Highland Games events. I have always thought Bernard would be rather good at tossing the caber. I understand he comes from Essex, in England, which some of my English friends have told me is full of tossers.
Bernard tells me that it sometimes gets so cold in the north of Canada that there’s so many icicles hanging from his sporran that you’d think he brought along his own wind chimes. What a sight that must be.
Here in Canada we believe in an inclusive approach to life. This is exemplified by my good friend Justin, who – when he’s not busy running the country – is very happy to swing by and take a walk on the beach nearby. And I have to say, he doesn’t have bad legs. He’s asked me once or twice if I can spare Sebastian for a yoga class, but so far we’ve been a bit too busy and our schedules haven’t been quite aligned. Perhaps he’ll join us for a class here in Huckleberry Close as things slow down around Christmas. At least, he promised he would. We’ll see.
As we approach Halloween I have a ghostly story coming out late this month which I think you might enjoy. You may want to keep an eye open for The Living Doll on http://FionaDobson.com . There’s also The Foreshore Light and The Apartment, for those of you who like the ghostly theme of Halloween, both of which are already available. If you’d like to hear me reading The Foreshore Light you can do so here. Be sure to check them out when you have a moment. I think I’ve given you enough there to keep you up at night. It’s not often that you find ghostly stories suitable for crossdressers, but I do try to present a broad cross section of content for my lovely members. As ever, Clothes Maketh The Man, now with episode 50 out, is doing wonderfully. I do hope you’re enjoying it.
I arrived home on Saturday morning to a house full of guests. Max, my next door neighbours 20 year old son, had let himself in as he often does these days, Sebastian had arrived early for my yoga session, and as I walked into the kitchen, there was Sylvester clutching a twelve incher in his hand.
“That looks very meaty,” I said as Sylvester stood there looking proud.
“You know how much I love a good sub,” replied Sylvester. “Salami, tomato, olives… this is twelve inches of perfection.
If I had a quarter for every time I’d heard that, I thought quietly to myself. Actually, I’d only have a dollar twenty five, but all the same…
I slipped into a light skirt and a tee shirt, to be ready for yoga, and then asked Sylvester if he’d like to join Sebastian and I on the yoga mats. I should say that it’s rather like watching a fridge try to do a downward dog, when Sylvester does yoga. The will is there, though.
“Where on earth are Max and Sebastian,” I asked Sylvester wondering if perhaps Max would be joining us on the yoha mats.
“Max is teabagging in the basement,” said Sylvester.
“Really,” I said a little surprised.
“Yes. I had no idea Max knew so much about tea. He’s showing Sebastian how to mix a few different tea types and make a few tea bags. He has some black tea, oil of bergamot, vanilla and all sorts of things.”
“Oh,” I said, somewhat relieved. “How creative. We should see if they want to do yoga with us.”
However, that’s not the main reason I am writing to you. I’m sure that you have experienced, the same as many of us, feelings of embarrassment following dressing. Well, you’ll be pleased to know you don’t need to. In the video below I have prepared a short hypnosis for you that will help relieve those feelings. Have a listen and see how you get along.
Have a great week, and remember – “Accept yourself as you are, and create yourself as you wish.”
So tonight I’ll tell you about a rather unusual episode, that happened outside my house this morning. Sebastian turned up on his racing bicycle, looking rather sweaty in his spandex shorts and tight tee shirt.
As you probably know, I love cycling. I find it keeps me in shape, and gives me the perfect excuse to show off my legs, and it’s a great way to get about the city as the weather improves. It’s not unusual for Sebastian, my personal trainer, and I to get out on the bikes and rip round the local parks and cycle paths. It’s such a good work out. I always wear tight leggings that show off my legs, and a cute tee shirt.
For Sebastian, however, this is just a warm up. He likes to race and takes it all very seriously. Recently he’s regeared his cycle replaced the handlebars with a Kevlar lightweight pair. All this is very good, but as he babbled on, in my driveway, about how wonderful these modifications are, I couldn’t help noticing his spandex cycling shorts are a little tight.
“I’ve always found my get away a little slow,” he said.
“I see,” I replied, having no idea what he was on about.
“I always find I end up having to come from behind,” he went on.
“Oh,” I said, “I know exactly what you mean.”
He straddled his bike, and asked me to steady it, as he stood on the peddles, balancing and leaning over the handle bars, his bum almost in my face.
“With these modifications,” he said enthusiastically, “I’ll be able to sneak up from behind and take the low hanging fruit, even if I do have a slow start to a race. Then I can take the leaders from behind as I get further into the race.”
From where I was standing I thought Sebastian should be more concerned about his own low hanging fruit.
That, however is not the main reason I’m writing to you tonight. I thought I’d touch on a slightly more topical subject tonight. Below is a video from a performance by the great British comedian, Eddie Izzard. It touches on the subject of crossdressing and the army and a few other things you may find of interest. Have a listen and see what you think.
I hope it lifts your spirits in these uncertain times.
Eddie talking about the army, transvestites, and the squirrel hole! Been there, done that!
Don’t forget, I’ve got many free videos for you on Youtube.
Are you reading the exciting adventures of Andy in “Clothes Maketh The Man”?
Manipulated and taken advantage of by the evil Devina, Andy finds himself compromised into dressing. You’ll never believe what follows!
If you haven’t yet dived into the extraordinary serialised feminization adventure you can find it here:
If you’re already a Premium Member, THANK YOU! If not, this is a great time to start. Try the Premium Program today!
Have you signed up yet for my Little Black Book? Far more than just a list of crossdressers, this is a great project for anyone wanting to chat, email and connect with new friends. Join the book, email some friends and then once a week come back and reach out to new members both far away and close to home. All for just $24.95 a year, If you’re not already in the book now’s a great time to sign up! https://fionadobson.com/fionas-little-black-book/
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.
“The stuff’s everywhere,” he moaned. “I can’t move in my apartment, there’s so much Jiz everywhere!”
“I’m sorry?” 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.
“It’s all over the place!” He went on.
“Sebastian,” I said, “What on earth are you talking about?”
“It’s the week of the Junior and Intermediate Zumba challenge. Everyone down at the gym enters.”
“Is that a ‘thing’?” I asked.
“I get to do the Jiz thing every year, and every year it’s a nightmare. I just get overwhelmed. And this year, honestly, I think I’ve taken as much as I can take. I’ve bitten off more than I can chew and I’m practically choking on it!”
“I believe the expression is ‘gagging’.” I added, helpfully.
“All the other personal trainers down at the gym leave it to me, and every year I just get sucked in!”
“I wonder why,” I said rhetorically.
“My whole place is covered in the stuff to arrange it, costumes, posters. I even had to design them myself.” Sebastian reached into his back pack and brought out a folded-up poster.
“Oh, Let me see it,” I said trying to sound enthusiastic.
“Yes, of course. Your friend Amanda helped me with it.”
“Amanda is my wife’s friend,” I pointed out. Because she edits a trade publication, Pig And Pig Farmer, Amanda considers herself something of a media mogul. I think you’ll agree that’s 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, “It’s Jiz Time! You’ll be glad you came.”
Sebastian looked at it thoughtfully. “They wouldn’t let me put it up at Starbucks. They got quite snotty about it.”
“I wonder why,” I said.
But that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you today. It’s going to be spring soon, so it’s time to start getting ready with some new looks for Spring. I thought I’d 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 don’t dress outside of the house, to bring some more feminine colors into your selection of clothes that you’d 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. You’re 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
What a wonderful surprise I had this week when a parcel arrived on my doorstep from my friends at Glamour Boutique. My new sandals had arrived, perfectly sized and packaged discretely.
I’m sure that like me, you’ve probably looked for a comfortable pair of sandals that look sophisticated, but are also practical. These shoes fit the bill perfectly. Having a good square heel they had the stability that gives confidence, but retained the classic lines that gives a masculine ankle a feminized appearance.
It so happened that in the evening I was out with Sebastian, taking Hannibal (my pet dachshund) for his evening walk. This has become something of an event recently. Because there’s so few performance venues open currently due to Covid it’s become quite normal to see performers in the evenings along these paths. I have to say that there’s some great performers out there putting on live shows in the open air. I took the opportunity to give the new sandals a bit of a test drive.
As you likely know Hannibal is a very chirpy little chap. Now, before you imagine I am a ditzy bimbo-like crossdresser, tottering along with a silly little dog, I should point out that Hannibal has a black studded collar with spikes, and I ‘flow’ rather than totter. Yes, years of practice.
I must say I am a little careful around some of these performers when I have Hannibal with me. Anyone who has ever owned a dachshund will be aware that you never let them near to anyone who calls themselves a balloon twister, for example. Accidents can happen, after all.
Few people realise that the dachshund is a very unusual type of dog. Most domesticated dog breeds are descendants of wild canine animals such as wolves. In the case of dachshunds the reverse is true.
Some dogs chase motorcycles, others chase cars. Hannibal has two bad habits. The first is his dislike of homeless people. I’ve found myself embarrassed a number of times as he wanders up to someone holding up a sign asking for change, stares at them for a moment and then relieves himself on their leg. I put it down to him being a homeless rescue and having had to fight for a slice of pepperoni pizza more than once in his life.
His other bad habit is to chase people in wheelchairs. This can be most unfortunate. The flailing arms, the cries for help, and all as they try in vain to speed away from his snapping jaws. Needless to say Dachshunds are faster than wheelchairs, as many otherwise abled people locally have become painfully aware. All the same, it does often draw an interested crowd as an electric wheelchair speeds along a path way, people leaping out of the way, pursued by a streak of brown and black with vicious growls and teeth flashing in the dusk.
As we walked along the beach I got a number of admiring glances. These shoes really do make a difference. A well designed shoe emphasises the length of the leg and shape of the foot. This pair did not disappoint. I have to say that many times I’ve found shoes online and ordered them, and they’ve not lived up to expectations. The most common of disappointments is poor sizing and uncomfortable. I know many of us who do crossdress struggle with heels. They may look lovely, but I know we’ve all wondered how the hell we’re getting home in such agony, particularly when wearing them for the first time.
These heels were not only perfectly sized, they were actually comfortable. Yes, that may seem unlikely, but they felt great. The heel was high enough (3 1/4 inches) to give me a lift, and that wonderful posture that a well conceived pair of heels enables. As it turned out it was just as well.
I thought the commotion ahead, as we walked along the path, was a street performance of Macbeth. It seemed very realistic, and the gathered onlookers were most impressed. You can imagine our surprise as we watched and gradually realised we were not watching an adaption of Shakespeare, but were witnessing a mugging. Sebastian hustled me away and we hurried back in the direction of my condo at a fast jog, not wishing to get embroiled in the excitement.
As I relaxed and kicked off my shoes at home I realised that these were not only comfortable shoes, they were also perfectly suited to running away from a mugging in the park. That’s more than can be said for most of my heels. You can get your own pair here – https://www.glamourboutique.com/buy/shoes-hosiery/high-heels/square-heeled-sandal. Feel free to let the team at Glamour Boutique know Fiona sent you.
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.
“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 am happy to say that a few friends and I have been able to gather safely, and socially distanced, in my garden of late. Seeing Sebastian, Sylvester and Bernard all sitting there, along with Marjory and Amanda was a very special treat after such a long time when gatherings have been a bad idea. I am thrilled to say that we’ve finally all ben vaccinated.
Each of my friends brought an item they had prepared themselves. Sebastian whipped out his lovely sausage, which I am sure you know I just can’t get enough of! Just when I think I can’t take any more of it, he surprises me with more.
I was however a little disturbed as Sylvester leaned suggestively over toward Amanda and asked her if she’d like to try a cream horn. He really can be quite coarse, you know. It did remind me though, I did have to speak to Amanda confidentially, and make something of an apology.
This was a matter which by its very nature is unpleasant, however, when Amanda had asked me about a little problem she has I felt obliged to assist. Now, as you know, Amanda is not exactly my favorite person being my wife’s friend and former lover from university. Anyway, it seems Amanda has a problem with something politely described as ‘hyperhidrosis’. In plain English this translates through to ‘she sweats like a gross pig’, something not all together surprising as she is the editor of Pig and Pig Farmer Weekly.
When she approached me confidentially to ask my advice, which as you are doubtless aware I offer without judgement or any desire to embarrass, I was happy to help the poor pig… oops… woman. Pointing out the fact that it may be a sign of more serious health issues, such as diabetes, infection or a thyroid issue, I suggested that the most likely cause was that she was a little out of shape and that she might think of getting more active. Perhaps she should go out with Bernard in his sailboat, or spend more time on her bicycle than in her Prius. Or occasionally walk somewhere.
“But, Fiona,” she replied by text, during a brief exchange, “I feel so embarrassed about my sweating. If I exercise more people will see it. I have great lines of sweat on my tee shirt, and under my arms.”
I pushed the gross imagery from my mind and suggested “Perhaps an antiperspirant…”
The texts flowed to and fro with her asking for recommendations, and as it happened the advertising agency for whom I work do handle an account for a large manufacturer of healthy personal products, so I suggested their antiperspirant stick product, which I had couriered over to her directly. We’re particularly proud of our association with this company, having suggested some slight revisions to the previously ungainly shape of the product. It is now sportily shaped in an aerodynamic style.
“It’s easy to use,” I texted her. “Just remove top and push up bottom.”
Well, needless to say I did not mean her to take the instructions quite so literally. I suppose when people depend on texts it is somewhat easy to take them a little out of context. Needless to say Amanda was experiencing a degree of discomfort, and I felt I should offer my sympathy.
By the way you can read more of any character I mention by drilling down into the hotlinked references to them, if you feel so inclined. It’s a fun way to explore the strange world I navigate daily.
I’d like to suggest a very worthy charitable cause for my members today. I don’t do this often, as I know not everyone is able to help. Today however I think it important to raise awareness of many of our sisters in quite dire need in India. It’s not easy being trans at the best of times but during a pandemic things can be extremely difficult. Of course, we can’t help everyone on the planet, but helping those where the buck goes furthest is probably not a bad idea. Anyway, check out this campaign, and if it resonates I am sure your help will not be unappreciated.
I was quite shocked this morning when Sebastian appeared in my kitchen with his sausage in his hand. Sebastian, as you doubtless know, is my personal trainer.
“That thing’s enormous,” I said, as he held it out in front of me.
“I know,” he replied with a cheeky smile. “It’s Jamaican.”
Sebastian loves to make sausages and really is most adept in the kitchen. He’s always coming up with new recipes.
“What particularly makes it Jamaican,” I asked. as I turned on the grill.
“Mostly it’s the spices, but I also add a little pineapple and orange. It gives it a citrus lift.”
“That sounds delightful,” I gushed as the sausage began to sizzle and dribble a little fat under the grill. the aroma that filled my kitchen was delightful. It would only be a matter of time before Marjory and Amanda appeared from next door, in all likelihood. As you probably know it’s soon going to be the start of the competitive eating season, at which point Marjory becomes far more active.
But that’s another story.
SEBASTIAN’S JAMAICA SAUSAGE RECIPE:
Jamaica Pork Sausage (should yield 20 sausages at six inches long)
4 lbs pork shoulder diced
1 lb fat back diced
5 Tbs Jamaican Jerk Seasonings
2 Oranges chopped
Half a ripe pineapple chopped
40 gr coarse sea salt
About 10 feet of hog casings
1 C ice water
Combine and mix the diced pork, fat, fruit and spices. Chill until ready to grind or set in refrigerator and chill overnight.
Run water through the casings and let soak in a small bowl of water for 30 minutes or until you’re ready to stuff them.
Using the medium holed grind plate in the mincer grind the seasoned pork and fat into a mixing bowl set in ice. I love to listen to Erasure as I do this. It just gets me in a good grinding mood.
When done grinding your meat (Ed. Phrasing), add the water and mix until it is absorbed and the pork gets “sticky.” If using a stand mixer it will take about 1 minute with the paddle attachment.
Make a small patty and cook to check the seasonings.
Note: If you have extra you can make an amazing burger from this.
Stuffing your tube (Ed. Phrasing):
Stretch and push the hog casing onto the stuffer tube attachment, leaving an inch or two hanging off the end of the tube.
Stuff the sausage keeping one hand on the end of the tube where the casing is getting stuffed and help it along if it gets stuck.
Bernard is full of the joys of spring at this time of year. He’s doing all sorts of maintenance on his little boat, cleaning his fishing gear until it’s spotlessly clean, and also polishing up his weapon. He’s a very keen outdoor sportsman.
We’ve had many good times in the past when we’ve travelled together for the advertising agency, although there’s been no travel happening for a while. As I see him stripping his gun I am reminded of a lovely trip we had in the highlands of Scotland some years ago. We’d been invited to shoot grouse on the moors. The beauty of the landscape in that fresh northern light is quite breathtaking. Northern Scotland must be one of the most evocative places on earth, with it’s wild wind swept landscape, lightly brushed with heather.
We’d walked for miles over the moor and seen ptarmigan and quail at a distance, but it looked like Bernard was going to come back empty handed. I was simply enjoying a lovely day out in the fresh air, and then Bernard got terribly excited, and the next thing I knew he shot a load over my head. It was quite exhilarating. Perhaps you can imagine.
At work I have been surprised by the emergence of a number of committee’s within the advertising agency. We have one for racial awareness, one for staff empowerment and of course one for gender issues, and others being formed all the time. The job of these task forces is to make sure staff are aware of issues and to maintain a high standard of awareness of contentious issues, for both our clients and our staff. I must say, I think it’s high time awareness of some of these issues was brought to the fore. It’s a pleasure to see several new faces on these committees, and I’ve been asked to sit on several of them already.
Sebastian was in my kitchen this morning drinking a freshly squeezed orange juice as I stretched in preparation for our yoga class. I must say I do love the yoga wear. Nice leggings and a sports bra are a wonderful look for any gurl.
“I am getting a few more clients,” said Sebastian. “I think people want to get in shape for the summer.”
“Well, now that we’re getting past this damned virus,” I replied, “I’m sure more people are focusing on their health. It’s a precious gift and needs to be nurtured.”
“Speaking of nurturing,” said Sebastian, “I’ve started a self help group for people who do self-harm.”
“Sebastian, that’s so thoughtful of you. What on earth made you think of such a thing?”
“Well, Rainbow struggled with it,” He told me. “So, I figured I’d create a support group. I have to say it’s a hard slog though. Like banging your head against a brick wall.”
“How very public spirited of you,” I replied.
I have included a post on my website about Sebastian’s suggestions for yoga wear for my members. He’s been very helpful and put some great ideas up there. You can find it HERE.
Don’t forget, you can join my Patreon for as little as $1 a month HERE. It’s the most fun dollar you’ll spend this month, I guarantee it!
Have a lovely week, and be sure to let me know how you’re getting along.
I’ve always felt great support in my yoga, knowing that Sebastian is right behind me, whether I am doing a forward fold or a sun salutation. Always knowing he’s there to plunge in and make sure I don’t overdo it is a constant source of reassurance for me.
At his suggestion I am including a few of his ideas for anyone interested in enjoying yoga. Now, as you likely know, yoga isn’t just about stretching. Some people would even say that to think of it in those limited terms is quite ignorant. It is, of course, also about looking good.
To quote Maya Angelou, “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you look.”
So I’m including a small selection of clothing ideas you may enjoy. As I write this I am sitting on Sebastian’s right hand and we’re creating it together. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it as much as I do.
This is a great sports bra. It can easily be padded for the fuller look, but is great for a thorough workout too. It’s available in a range of great colors and will look great as you pretzel yourself into shape.
What could be better. High waisted yoga shorts feel lovely and emphasize your waist. They’re also comfortable and convenient to wear. Carrying a pair in a back pack and slipping into them before your yoga class is a simple way to look great and change swiftly into something that will be great to work out in.
It’s important to have a nice pair of leggings, whether you’re doing yoga or just relaxing at home. They show of your legs and have a desirable slimming effect for most body shapes. These particular ones offer a high waist, which helps tummy control. Can you think of a better way of showing off your great shape?
All yoga wear should be comfortable and help you feel positive. It’s worth taking time to find clothes that you can enjoy while practicing yoga. You’ll find this enhances your practice and makes the whole experience more enjoyable.