First of all I should make a quick correction, for the benefit of one of my members who has contacted me regarding some confusion in advice I gave her recently. When I said that a pair of sugar tongs may be used to pull fur balls from a cat, I should have pointed out that these are found in the cat’s throat. Now that that’s clarified, I can get along with today’s post.
While I do not condone smoking in an way, I admit that at New Year I will sit in my conservatory and smoke a cigar with Sylvester to celebrate the arrival of the new year. I know it’s not very ladylike, but Mistress Meg and Katia Thornwood do enjoy the occasional puff and as long as it’s just once a year I don’t really have a problem with it.
As I sat in a ratan chair, blowing snow piling up outside the window, I remarked to Sylvester that nothing can really beat getting your lips round eight inches of Cuban and that it’s a lovely way to start the new year.
My long maxi pleated skirt fell about my stockinged legs, as we sat there watching the snow. I felt nice and cozy in the night, warmed by a sherry and a radiator which keeps this pleasant room toasty on cold winter nights.
Sylvester blew a smoke ring and then said, “I didn’t realise these cigars were from Cuba.”
“The cigars? Oh, no I think these are from Nicaragua,” I replied.
He really should follow the plot.
Anyway, that’s not the main reason I am writing. There’s a fun new self hypnosis on my site which I thought I’d tell you about. You can find it here.
I hope 2022 is getting off to a good start for you.
What a busy week it’s been. I should offer a little clarity on something before I go any further, relating to one of my valued members. As you likely know, I am always keen to help my members with helpful advice. Mildred, of Colorado Springs, recently asked me how she might stop her puppy from chasing the postman when he comes by delivering some of her online orders. I suggested she should have him neutered and things will immediately get much better. I suppose in retrospect I should have explained more clearly that I meant the dog. I should also apologise to George Reynolds of Colorado Springs, or Georgina as he’s now known.
“Where on earth am I going to get my hands on a pair of 44DD breasts in a hurry?” I asked Sylvester.
“Don’t look at me,” said the diminutive Rainbow, as she settled down on my right hand beside me at my desk and looked at some of the websites I was browsing. She had just dropped in having led a yoga class at the community centre down the road. She was quite hoarse from a surfeit of omming.
“Amanda may be able to help you there,” mused Sylvester.
“Really, Sylvester,” I said. “You can be quite course at times. You know very well what I’m talking about. My car was broken into the other day and someone got rather more than they bargained for. The backpack they took carried my magnificent pocket bra and large breasts, a gift from a friend some years ago.”
I do think fondly of those breasts. Catching sight of my reflection for the first time with the curves I should have been born with was breathtaking. It’s quite a remarkable feeling when one does first put on such a magnificent accessory, and then marches down the street like a battle ship bringing a pair of 16 inch guns to bare on passers by. At first the thought is unmistakably how magnificent they look, but soon one becomes aware that it’s so much more than that. It’s the wonderful feeling that this is how one should look, but for an accident of chromosomes. It just feels so very natural and right.
I quickly went to my friends at The Drag Queen Closet (where I know I can always find great products at sensible prices) and found just what I was looking for. Whether you’re a first time buyer or familiar with drag supplies and crossdressing products, you can rely on them to steer you right. It’s such a relief to know I’ll be stepping out to my Christmas events looking my best. If you’re looking for something special, and have an eye for quality you should check them out for that special gift for yourself.
I would like to pass on the very best of Christmas wishes from the team at The Drag Queen Closet to my members and friends who love to enjoy crossdressing, drag and gender fluidity. They really are supportive to us and share our ideals in finding a gentler more feminine world in the year ahead. I know they send their very best to all of us at the end of a year which has tested us, but one in which we emerge still strong, still standing, and putting our best foot forward (in spectacular heels) for 2022.
Have a lovely week. Drop by the site as I will be on during the day and early evening chatting with members throughout the Christmas period. Don’t forget the Fiona Dobson Playlist to help keep your holiday season upbeat. By the way, below is a George Michael classic from the playlist. George used to be my first wife’s laundry guy. Yeah! He worked in a cleaners in Finchley, in London, when he was a teenager. True story.
PS. Feeling a little disconnected or alone at Christmas? There’s no need to. Join my Whatsapp Group and connect with some of my members immediately.
Well, I thought what Sylvester was saying was that Hannibal, my dachshund had been interred. Wondering if this were some punishment for running wildly about the park, I assumed he meant he’d been taken by the bylaw officer. This is what you get for letting your friend walk your dog.
I’d have walked Hannibal myself, were it not for the fact that I need my legs waxed. Rainbow has been kind enough to come over to help, and after we’ve finished we’ll be enjoying an eggplant yoghurt facial she has concocted. As you can imagine I am using the term ‘enjoying’ advisedly. I’m sure you understand there’s a certain amount of scheduled maintenance has to happen to keep up appearances, as a crossdressing account executive at the advertising agency. Much as one would care for a beautiful object, or as Bernard, my photographer, put it rather unkindly a large public building.
Sylvester thinks Hannibal, who is extremely sweet particularly when he snarls at Amanda, is a chick magnet. Whenever he walks Hannibal young women who ought to know better come up to Sylvester and start fawning over him. I mean, Hannibal, not Sylvester. Fawning over Sylvester would be like fawning over a Caterpillar Tractor. As a result Sylvester enjoys walking Hannibal some days, usually after the local yummy mummies have dropped there screaming charges off at the Huckleberry Montessori Daycare Centre For Spoiled Brats.
He wanders around the park looking sombre and brooding like a poet or a man recently widowed who needs the loving embrace of a dissatisfied young mother. Preferably blonde, a former gymnast, and quite possibly with poor English skills.
“What do you mean, Sylvester,’ I said into the phone. “They can’t inter my dog!’
“No, he’s been ‘interred’. It’s a fancy way of saying he’s got very dirty.”
I paused. I think Sylvester has been spending too much time with Ali, my Syrian gardener.
“I don’t think that’s what that means,” I said. “If you mean he’s dirty I suggest you bring him back here and give him a good wash. And I don’t mean like last time.”
I could tell Sylvester was about to protest and quickly added, “Sylvester, throwing Hannibal’s ball through Mr. Singh’s car wash does not count as cleaning my dog. I’m still getting abusive phone calls from him from the last time.”
I hung up the phone and returned to the business at hand, Katia having recently arrived and was presently sitting with Rainbow and myself contemplating the yoghurt facial.
“Do you plan to eat it or fix the grouting with it?” she asked.
As you likely know, Katia Thornwood is what I can best be described as a disciplinarian, working with some of my Seahorse members. These are those special members who require that extra little helping hand in their dressing. Katia and Mistress Meg look after them and can be found on my Patreon. However, Katia was visiting my house to discuss some minor business matters and was looking forward to seeing Sylvester.
“He’s a very useful sort of chump,” observed Katia. “He leant me some of that very fine oil for a pair of nipple clamps I use on my visitors. I’ve been using them a while now, and I hardly hear a squeak out of them.”
“The clamps or the visitors,” I asked.
“Both,” she replied. “I have these rather frightening surgical shears I’d like him to oil. They’re most intimidating. They look perfect for castration.”
I winced a little and then said, “Well you can be sure your clients would speak highly of you after that.”
Katia sniggered and replied that they’re really just for show and insisted it’s good to maintain her tools.
“I would never have believed it would get this big!” I said to Sylvester.
“Look at this huge bulge!” he replied, his eyes wide.
“I had no idea it would be this big when I started working on it,” I said, still surprised.
We were examining in detail the growth figures for Clothes Maketh The Man, the serial which started this very website. The graph showed a massive explosion – almost a volcanic emission – the huge growth spurt we got in 2016 when Clothes Maketh The Man first appeared.
Since then over 75,000 members have enjoyed the series. And of course, a lot more has happened besides. We’ve done everything from helping Mildred from Colorado Spring understand that when it says ‘Push up bottom’ on the deodorant stick she’s been using for years it means depress the base of the packaging – it’s an easy mistake to make -, to voting Ashley Baron our crossdresser of the year. We’ve not had that competition for the last couple of years, so I guess Ashley is still our reigning Queen. Don’t forget we also have some great music in The Fiona Dobson Playlist that’s always sure to give you a lift.
Just a reminder, if you are enjoying some of the emails you can click on the hotlinks within the email to drill deeper (phrasing) and penetrate the stories in more detail. And we all like deep penetration. You can of course also find a wealth of my content on Pinterest. https://www.pinterest.ca/fionadobson22
Some of you know that I love to hang out on the site some days and use our chat functionality to chat with members. If you see a chat window come up when visiting http://FionaDobson.com you’ll know it’s me on the other end. Feel free to join me there. I usually go on in the mornings for a little (Pacific time) and the evenings.
Now, I must get back to looking after life in Huckleberry Close. Some of you will know I am very much a caring soul. I will not use the word ‘healer’, but I do feel I have a special power. Anyway, Amanda my wife’s awful friend, has been having trouble with her pussy. I’ve said I will go over and lay my hands on it to transfer positive energy from Hannibal, my dachshund. I am good with animals. Between you and I, it’s probably diet. I don’t know what she’s been feeding that thing!
Have a lovely weekend,
PS – my musical selection this week is for all my closeted members.
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.”
The Crossdresser’s Guide To Marital Bliss is a series of episodes taking a hilarious look at how one crossdresser brought his wife to a place of understanding and acceptance. It’s also instructive and full of good advice to those of us who wish to introduce our dressing to the principal relationship in our life. I hope you enjoy it. Get all episodes here.
I sat in the garden enjoying the cool spring breeze.
Sylvester crossed the lawn carrying a tray of tea and ginger biscuits.
“I’ve just had yet another experience with one of my members
that leaves me feeling quite sad,” I said as Sylvester’s ham like fist gripped
my delicate tea pot and poured.
“What was that, then?” he asked.
“Well, I had this chat with another member who just felt he
couldn’t talk to his wife about crossdressing. I mean, really, it’s awful. So
many of my lovely gurls are out there and barely even able to talk to anyone.”
“But that’s what you’re here for,” said Sylvester.
“Well, yes,” I replied. “But there are certain things that a wife can do that even I may struggle to!”
There was a steady stream of water falling between Ali, my Syrian gardener’s legs.
“Ali,” I said. “Would you mind telling me what you’re doing?”
“Ah, madam. I’m watching Max’s premature ejaculation. He did it for his mother…”
I paused. I’ve learned that’s a good idea with Ali. I’m never quite sure if he’s serious, or just confused.
“His water hose… He’s got it hooked up to Google – that online house thing. It waters the flowers. Well, drowns them actually. It’s coming on prematurely and the water pressure’s too high.”
“I see,” I said. I decided I had better talk to that English teacher of his.
“I prefer to use a more natural method such as this watering can, madam,” he said as he continued to water the flowers.
It’s been a strange week. Sylvester had a couple of his Navy friends staying. Billy Bates, a Quartermaster on a missile cruiser, and his friend Simon Steyns. Simon was recently demoted back to Ordinary Seaman following a nasty shoreside incident involving another member of the crew and a very worried looking hamster.
To round everything off Amanda brought her sister over and her revolting daughter. Chelsea, Amanda’s elder sister doesn’t approve of Amanda’s relationship with Marjory. She say’s it’s against God. I have to say I told her that Amanda is against God. I mean really! What immortal hand or eye would frame that fearful symmetry… urgh.
Chelsea Chizit and her daughter Emma are cut from the same cloth. They’re the sort of uncultured slobs that know the price of everything and the value of nothing.
And to top it off Max is besotted with Emma. To be fair, she is not entirely unpleasant to look at as she glides around the garden half naked in the sunshine, like some sort of fae. Yet Max just stares slack jawed and drools. It’s most disturbing. He wanders around moony eyed murmuring “Emma Chizit… Emma Chizzit.”
“Ali,” I said as firmly as I could, “Do you happen to know if Amanda is next door visiting Marjory?”
“Oh yes,” he said. Not much gets passed Ali. He knows the comings and goings of most of Huckleberry Close. “She wrist deep in …”
“Ali!” I said firmly.
“… in tomatoes. They’re canning the tomatoes she grew in her greenhouse. Making sauce…”
As everyone starts to get back to something approaching normal I am delighted to say I am enjoying occasional days like this where friends visit and life seems almost as it did before this infernal pandemic.
I am pleased to say I am double vaccinated, as are most of my friends. I hope you are to, and I’d encourage you to get it done as soon as possible, for your own good and the good of all those around you.
I hope you’ve been enjoying The Dating Game by Mollie Blake. It’s been featured this last few weeks on the website, Remember there always new content on the site, and I do get on now and then to chat with my members on the web chat functionality. If I happen to be on when you are there, be sure to say hello.
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.
First of all I’d like to say that I hope you are loving my programs. We have over 2500 gurls enjoying my helping hand… Wait, that sounds a little wrong. If you are not already in one of the programs you should sign up today. Anyway, I thought I’d share what I’ve been getting up to this week.
With all this sunshine I’ve been spending a lot of time in the garden and at the beach. I do love to sail, and Bernard’s boat is finally in shape. It’s so good to live in a city in which the outdoor lifestyle I love is so accessible.
My gardener, Ali Ibrahim, pulled into my drive way in his Smart Car this Tuesday. He’s been doing some topiary in my garden. With him was Sylvester, my mechanic. Now, Sylvester is a very large man and seeing him struggle out of Ali’s tiny car was rather like watching a man get out of an overcoat that is three sizes too small for him.
“I had no idea you knew Ali,” I said to Sylvester.
“I don’t. He gave me a ride from the highway. My truck broke down, again! Very kind of your friend Mr. Ibrahim to pick me up.”
The irony of this was not lost on me.
Sylvester was speaking very slowly, so Ali would understand him. So slowly, actually, that one might assume he thought Ali had some extreme form of learning disability. Sylvester was, of course, unaware that Ali had been a professor in a university in Damascus until fleeing the country and finding his way to Canada.
“He just pulled over and offered me a lift, and it turned out we were both coming to your place.”
“How fortuitous,” I said. Sylvester was looking a little dubiously at Ali, who in turn was smiling happily, as is his nature.
Sylvester took me aside and looking a little worried said “he keeps saying he can’t get his whores in his car.”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s very small.”
“Car no good for hoes,” said Ali, catching my eye, and nodding and smiling happily.
“Yes, Ali. I’m sure,” I said smiling.
I turned to Sylvester and said, “Ali is struggling a little with his English, but I think he’s trying to tell you that he doesn’t like the smart car because he can’t put his rakes and hoes and spade in the back. He’s got his small tools for working in the garden, but his large tools get… stuck. But you’d know all about that.”
Sylvester sniggered and turned to Ali and said, “Hoes, eh? Well come by my shop in the morning, ok?”
Ali smiled his enormous smile and nodded enthusiastically.
When Ali showed up at my place the yesterday to continue his work on remodelling my bush he came with the most extraordinary collection of tools on the back of his Smart Car. Sylvester had given him a nice new gun rack, salvaged from a car that had been written off.
Ever the inventive soul, Ali had fitted it and now uses it to carry his hoes and rakes and larger tools. And we all like larger tools.
But that’s not the main reason I am writing. I am thrilled to say I have a few spaces available in our Whatsapp Group. You can find all the details here, if you like chatting with other CDs.
It’s almost June, and I made a foray into the office, something I rarely do these days. To be quite honest, and between you and I, I’ve avoided going into the office since Sylvester crashed the virtual office Christmas party, pulled the pockets out of his pants and did his impression of an elephant. One just never knows when a mark may have been overstepped.
To make things still more unpredictable, we have a new human resources director. Colin, the last HR director was rather eccentric. He had tattoos all over his body, including a Canadian flag over his heart and a map of Canada on his face. He may have been a little odd, but at least with Colin you always knew where you were.
I was intercepted by the new HR director, Debra, as I entered the deserted reception area. A large woman, she approached me and asked who I was, not having been introduced to me before. She wore a ski jacket, which seemed a little odd in late May here in Vancouver. I also noticed she seemed to be well acquainted with my personnel file, which did not inspire confidence. Personally I prefer to keep a low profile when it comes to HR people.
I glanced around the reception area, noticing that the walls were adorned with new paintings.
“Geoff’s drawn up a corporate revitalization plan,” she said, referring to the CEO, while noticing I was looking around at the artwork on the office walls.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Oh, we’re going to be brightening up the office and moving toward a greener profile,” replied Debra. “He says we have to pay more attention to our green footprint.”
I glanced at my shoes. I decided that while in town I should stop by that Italian shoe shop.
“What does that really mean,” I asked.
“It means he’s turned off the heating,” came her reply. Well, at least that explained the ski jacket. I immediately noticed that the office was a lot cooler than it used to be.
“I see,” I replied trying not to show my disappointment.
“And that we have this,” and at this moment she paused, “… this art on the walls.”
“Oh,” I said, “that’s what it is.”
She smirked at me. I felt a little more encouraged. Could Debra be an ally? She looked at a large piece positioned behind where our receptionist would generally sit.
“What does it say to you, Fiona?” she asked.
“It says to me that the artist has a pet cat with severe gastric distress,” I replied.
“Yes,” she agreed doubtfully. “You obviously have a keen eye. Actually, it says that Geoff’s daughter is out of rehab again and he’s bought a load of her art to put a few dollars in her pocket.”
“Our receptionist may need counselling if she’s exposed to these for too long,” I replied.
That however is not the main reason I’m writing to you today. As we get into summer it’s time to reach for that miniskirt and get into it. If you don’t have one, either finding one in a store, or even going to a good quality thrift store and hunting down a bargain is a great idea. If you’re on my Patreon why not post a pic in the community section. There’s a challenge for you Daphanie! Daphanie is one of my favorite members and very active on our Whatsapp Group. To help you along the way try this little self hypnosis file. It may encourage you.
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.
All I can say is that a little knowledge is a very dangerous thing. It all started so innocently.
Now, as you likely know, Amanda (my wife’s appalling friend), is something of a thorn in my side. My dear wife is currently in isolation in Dubai, or Mumbai. Somewhere.
Ever since my dog, Hannibal, had an unfortunate run in with an adult toy in her house, Amanda has been going on about getting a dog. It was therefore no great surprise when she called me to tell me she’d done so, but that she needed some help. Apparently she’d got herself a delightful little dog, a Chihuahua named Whisky.
Now, this shouldn’t be so hard to deal with. However, this particular dog was a real barker. Little Whiskey would bark whenever anyone came near the house and Amanda was extremely irritated by the incessant noise. She’d bought a shock collar to try and dissuade little Whisky from barking, but apparently there was something wrong with it. She called me to see if I could take a look at the device.
Naturally, I did what any sensible crossdressing advertising executive would do, and picked the thing up, and gave it to Sylvester – my mechanic – to see if he could fix it. I am a crossdressing advertising executive, not an engineer, after all.
Sylvester promptly strapped the device to one of his staff, and giving him a burst or two of the shock, it was evident that the batteries were flat. In no time he’d fitted new batteries and a small charge was transmitted to his workshop assistant. I thought it a rather unusual practice, but one that could be a breakthrough in personnel motivation. While a little controversial, it would doubtless result in greater productivity.
Sylvester laughed a little about this, and said he wanted to see if he could lift the output a bit, and we thought nothing more of it. As I was passing his workshop the following day, I wandered in and picked it up, even though Sylvester was out the back of the workshop polishing his chopper, as he so often is.
That night I dropped the collar off with Amanda, and she fitted it to little Whisky. I remember thinking, as I slipped into a long silk evening gown that night, that I should probably have tested the collar before giving it back to Amanda. I didn’t really give it much more thought.
So it was that, this morning I pulled into her driveway, stepped out of the car and a tiny white bundle of chihuahua hair came bounding out of the house in my direction. Little Whisky started yapping, the way he often does, and then quite suddenly he stopped. He seemed to stand bolt upright, twitch twice in silence and then he keeled over at my feet.
I stared at the catatonic form of Whiskey, my mouth open in surprise. I could barely believe my eyes. Then, from an upstairs window, Amanda leaned out and said, “That device works wonderfully well.”
Whisky was at my feet twitching. Evidently Amanda had heard the yapping, and hit the remote zapper. Unaware that the poor dog was twitching, and convulsing at my feet. As far as Amanda was concerned, the barking had stopped, and therefore the shock collar worked perfectly.
“Yes,” I said, maneuvering myself between her line of sight and the poor dog. “I think it works quite, errr, thoroughly.”
As her head disappeared into the house I picked up little Whisky. In a state of both panic and sympathy I wondered how you give mouth to mouth resuscitation to a chihuahua. As quickly as he’d been put into a seizure Whisky seemed to come back to life, and started licking my hand. I took the opportunity to remove the collar and slipped it into my pocket.
Poor Whisky, rather like Bernard, who had been tazered last year, looked quite disturbed. He was however a little quieter.
Now, I have to hurry off to Sylvester and have him reconfigure this thing before Amanda electrocutes the poor thing permanently. Doubtless, no good deed goes unpunished! However, before I finish, I’d like to remind a few of you who love to buy their clothes online that I do have a few great suggestions, and https://fionadobson.com/good-taglines-dating-sites/ has even made some suggestions for those of a more sissy nature. When you click through on those links you help me out a lot, even when you don’t end up buying. At the foot of most of my posts I include a few suggestions. Be sure to explore them, and of course I love to hear about it if you’ve bought something particularly satisfying.
By the way if you are ever interested in learning more about the characters mentioned in the World Of Fiona Dobson you will find that the names are often hotlinked in their first mention in a post. If you click on this you will pull up all the posts in which they are mentioned, which gives you an interesting way in which to explore my community.
Be sure to support me on Patreon if you’re enjoying what I’m doing.
Since I had Sylvester do some work on my electrical wiring I have been having trouble with my fuses. Periodically I find myself bathed in darkness as the electricity goes out. I’ve had several electricians come to check the system, and another is coming to check the fuses shortly. Currently I blow three or four a week under the stairs. Frankly, I’ve had about as much as I can swallow. I think I should just replace the entire wiring system.
That, however is not the main reason I am writing today. I thought I’d include a little tip for all those crossdressers who are yet to master their make up, and let’s be honest, there’s a few!
Generally a girl starts playing with make up when they’re nine or ten years old. These are often forrays into mum’s handbag or make up draw and at first they are disastrous. However, particularly after playing with friends, they gradually improve. As they get older their makeup often becomes bolder and they learn various subtleties in their choices of color and their techniques.
Many crossdressers struggle, and get upset with themselves for not getting great results from the very start of their makeup use. This can be disheartening. I understand, and you should be aware that it doesn’t have to be that way. Be patient and practice.
While I don’t generally give specific make up tips – there’s many others out there who do amazing makeup tutorials on Youtube – I will offer this. If you choose subtle colors, using minimal amounts, you can gradually incorporate a few colors into your everyday regime without putting yourself into a position where you’re exposing yourself unnecessarily. A subtle amount of eye makeup to sharpen your look is a great way to feel feminine and to gradually improve your makeup skills.
The palette above is a good example of what you may want to start using. Nothing too garish, unless you are really ready to go full Ru Paul on the world. If you’re just starting out, applying a nice blend of shades now and then will be satisfying and even if you’re not completely ‘out’, can really help you enjoy your look.
After using make up for years I can firmly attest that less is generally more. Don’t be afraid to go for ‘subtle’. It will build up your confidence and if you can integrate it into your daily life. Then as you do gain proficiency you will find that experimenting with a greater range of tones is easy.
The other tip I’d add for anyone using eyeshadows for the first time is to be sure you have a selection of brushes. Applying the shades with a nice brush gives you even coverage and makes merging one color with another much easier. Using a little foundation on the eyelid will provide a smooth start point, though sometimes when you just need to grab and go, it’s not entirely necessary.
Enjoy the video tutorial below, but be sure to explore the Amazon link below for color palettes that might work well for you. In the end be sure to remember that practice makes perfect.
What an eventful week. It all started with Sylvester, but then doesn’t it always. He had a nasty fall from the toilet after a particularly strong curry. I have been trying to be as supportive as possible, visiting and bringing over things he needs while he rests up.
I should point out that over the years Sylvester has become much more than simply my mechanic. He is a dear friend and we often used to travel together. A couple of years ago we visited England and explored my childhood home on the Isle of Wight. Apart from doing a few touristy things, we did visit one of my neighbours who has been a friend of my since childhood. He lives on a neighboring farm and apart from the usual stock keeps a few chickens and rare avian breeds. I always look forward to seeing his woodcock, pullet and swallow.
And of course there’s always the fun of buying a few souvenirs to bring back to friends at home. Last time I remember we brought back sticks of rock for friends. I should explain that these are long shafts of hard candy about a foot long, often with the name of the place it comes from set into it. I don’t really think there’s a North American equivalent of this, much to the disappointment of dentists throughout the new world.
When I dropped off a few things to make Sylvester more comfortable while he rests up this week he asked me if I’d like to suck on his twelve incher, and then handed me a stick of rock left over from our trip. You can probably imagine how surprised I was. So many of my trips provide me with memories that will never leave me. At least, not without a long course of therapy.
I expect it will be a little while before we once again share the joys of being squeezed into economy seating on an airline next to a fat guy that brought his own salami. I may even get to the stage where I miss the body searches that Jeffrey at the airport always gives me when I arrive back home. Jeffrey is the sweet young man that looks after customs at our the airport. The last couple of times he’s insisted on doing the search even though I was just picking up a friend returning from a local flight and had just parked my car. He really is quite familiar. He could save us all a lot of time and just ask me out on a date, but I guess he’s just shy.
But that’s not the main reason I am writing. I have been so thrilled with the following I’m building on Patreon, I thought I’d give you a quick heads up. I will be putting the base program price up soon, so if you’re not already in there and want to get in to the $1 a month level it’s probably a good idea to get in there soon. As I said to Jeffrey last time I came through arrivals, as he gave me that knowing smile and pulled his glove on, “you’d better get in there quickly before I put it up.”
By the way I Max has posted my latest story on the Fiona Dobson Patreon, which you can access free here. It’s a cautionary tale for those members crossdressing in their senior years, and it’s really worth a listen.