“You know,” I said to Sylvester as he got ready with some lube, “I feel I need to give my gurls a little bit of a hand from time to time.”
Sylvester looked up at me, applying the shiny liquid to his shaft.
“You’re so thoughtful, Fiona.”
You will remember that Sylvester is a mechanic. He’s restoring an old engine at present. He knows the value of making sure all the parts are well lubricated.
“Are you sure it’s going to fit,” I asked as he slid the shaft into a tight fitting sleeve.
“You’d be amazed what a good amount of lubrication can do,” he said concentrating on the job in hand.
The shaft slid home with a satisfying metallic sigh.
“Goodness,” I said with a slight gasp. “You’re really very good at this.”
“Yes,” he said with a look of studied concentration. “Lubrication is the key to so many things.”
“You know you’re right!” I replied. “I just feel I want to help my members feel a sense of satisfaction. So many of them put up with so much.”
It was as I thought about this that I decided to post a few pictures that might elevate your mood. You know, if you’re on this site then I am like a sister to you. And any good sister would be prepared to bend over backwards to help you feel good about yourself.
Do you think I should bend over backwards for you? Well, register and see what I have as you slip inside the website. You know the deeper and deeper you go into it the more satisfying it can be. Come on. Register here, and go really deep. Just the way I like it.
My goodness, if you could see what’s going on outside my window. I can hardly believe is! I’m standing here in my Christmas lingerie, and my heels, and quite shocked at what I can see going on out there!
Ali, my gardner has just told me, “It’s ok, Fiona. It’s just Sylvester and Max jacking off in the flower beds.”
Now, I know you can imagine me standing here in my flowing red silk robe, mouth open in surprise. I am staring out at the snowy Montreal scene, and everybody seems to be having a wonderful time! Oh, perhaps you should even be here!
Let me explain. I’m watching Sylvester’s muscle bound arm pumping up and down and Max, my next door neighbours 20 year old son laughing – I think he’s licking his fingers – yes, he’s spilled some Bailey’s Irish Cream on his hand, or at least I think that’s what it is. And Ali is watching, engrossed in the unfolding scene.
They’re laughing and very jolly, Sylvester’s face red with exertion, and he has a look of deep concentration. Apparently, Ali’s Smart Car slid off the drive in the snow as he pulled into the icy driveway. It slid into the flower bed, and onto a rock in the rockery. Max and Sylvester were already at my place enjoying a Christmas eve drink, and now the three of them are working away to lift the little vehicle off the rock and manhandle it back onto the drive. What Christmas excitement!
I should hurry along! Amanda, the queen of tweed will be here soon, and Bernard is coming over. My wife, sadly is travelling. She’s a slave to her job! In the meantime, we are a fun gang, all hoping that Christmas will go with a bang!
I know Sebastian wants to show me his mince pies and sausage. He has been making so many delightful treats lately.
I hope you have a lovely Christmas! Have a wonderful holiday and remember, be careful if you are driving in the snow. Otherwise you too might find yourself licking Irish cream from your fingers after jacking off in someone’s garden!
Preparations for Christmas festivities are creating an air of expectation and excitement around Huckleberry Close this morning, and I couldn’t help noticing that next door people seemed to be stopping by at my neighbor, Marjory’s house looking at the rather imposing Christmas decorations in front of her house. A truly excited sense of seasonal cheer has developed in our little community.
The children have had their last day of school, and inspite of the unseasonably warm weather they are playing in the street and throwing snowballs at one another and laughing. Indeed the festivities this morning spilled over in a rather unusual incident worth recalling. It all started with Auntie Kittie rolling into my kitchen at 9 am, a little bleary eyed, looking for coffee and advice.
“Fiona,” she said a little groggily. “I think I may be experiencing hallucinations.”
I did my best to calm her down, as she sat looking worried.
“I swear that Santa Claus in Marjory’s garden just flashed me,” she groaned as she shakily took the coffee I offered her.
What a lovely time of year it is. I’ve been trying to think of the perfect present for Sylvester. Being a mechanic, and also a lover of dogs, it had crossed my mind that an adjustable spaniel might be just the thing, but I never give pets for Christmas.
As friends gather and feast their eyes on my mince pies, as I whip them out of the oven, and Sylvester dribbles cream over Amanda’s pudding, I can only conclude that I do love this time of year. I’ve just come back from Auntie Kittie’s up the road. She’s been entertaining a few of the neighbours in Huckleberry Close, and of course her lovely nephews and nieces. The young ones are all fascinated by her record player and her record collection.
“But Auntie, it’s all hardware! Where’s the app?” asked Gerald.
It’s interesting watching them try to figure it out. To them, of course, it all seems archaic.
None the less, we all enjoy it when Auntie gets out her voluminous greatest hits and lets us play them. The music of the seventies and eighties is making such a come back.
We were playing Scrabble this afternoon, and when Gerald lay down W E T H E R, Amanda (who is the esteemed editor of Pig And Pig Farmer Weekly) commented, “That’s the worst spell of weather I’ve seen in a long time.”
I thought that rather amusing.
But that’s not the only reason I am writing. I had an email from Mildred in Colorado Springs. She’s been making her own facial scrub. Two tablespoons of honey, four tables spoons of oatmeal and a table spoon of ground almonds. Then go for a drive and stick your head out of the car window as you are passing a road gritting truck. She tells me it refreshing and invigorating.
My members are very helpful, as you can see.
As we progress into the Musk Presidency and his little fat sidekick Donald prepares move his toys into the White House, I am seeing increasing numbers of people join my Support Group. It’s free and if you have concerns about the idiot recently elected you may find it of use. Certainly it’s somewhere to connect with other people who have concerns. You can find it here. https://fionadobson.com/you-can-now-join-our-online-support-group-for-us-based-trans-people-for-free/
Enjoy the weekend and get that last bit of Christmas shopping in if you can. I always buy a few random gifts to give to people in the office with a cryptic but knowing smile. It keeps people on their guard. A nice card to go with it saying something like, “I admire your courage!” confuses the hell out of them.
I am gradually moving more content over to my Patreon. Be sure to join if you’re enjoying my work. It is encouraging to me, and it really helps.
Just the place to jam the shaft of your pen in! Vice President Trump as President Musk’s pet toy poodle. A talking point for any polite dinner party! Just $17.97
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 they’re 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 2025.
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.
Fiona.
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.
Can you imagine, Sylvester, my resident Neanderthal, still has a home phone. Sebastian was curious about this, thinking it an upgrade to a cell phone, being chained to the wall so no one would steal it. I had to explain that this is what people had in their caves before cell phones.
In some ways Sylvester is a throwback to an earlier time. Perhaps this snippet of conversation will help you understand. We were chatting while I was moisturizing and pulling on some yoga pants in preparation of Sebastian coming over to do a yoga class with me this very morning.
“Look at this rain,” he said looking out of my bedroom window. “I want to go to Spain!”
“How lovely! Such a magical country,” I replied as I applied the coconut oil to my face.
“Where’s the best travel agent?” he asked.
“Do we still have those,” I said.
“There must be one somewhere,” he insisted.
“Perhaps you should look online,” I suggested. “I think there’s one in the main street though, just beside the dog groomers, which reminds me, I should get Hannibal’s toes done.”
“The place next to the Korean take away?” he chimed in.
“Yes, the other side of that new spa place. You know, the one with the fish that chew your feet. I don’t really get that whole thing myself, but apparently it’s good.”
“I know the place,” said Sylvester. “By the sushi restaurant.”
Conversations with Sylvester are never simple.
“Why particularly do you want to go to Spain,” I asked.
“Oh, they have this amazing event in Pamplona in July. They have all these bulls and they let them out in the street,” he said. “Lots of people take part.”
“I think I’ve heard of it,” I cut in.
“Yes, I’ve always wanted to participate in the catching of the bulls,” said Sylvester.
I thought I’d better end the conversation there. Sebastian was just arriving. I pulled on a loose fitting tee shirt and told Sylvester to run along while I let Sebastian stretch me.
As you may know I am transitioning more of my content onto Patreon. If you feel like supporting me as we move toward Christmas you can do so for as little as $1 a month by using ‘my back door’ on Patreon.
I was sitting with Sylvester in his workshop just the other morning, listening to how one of his customers had split his rim, when my dear friend Nikita happened to come into his auto shop. I have no idea what that is or how one does it, but I did my best to look interested as Sylvester worked on the wheel of a vehicle that had just come in.
“Nikita!” I said, excited to see her. “I barely recognised you without your horn in your hand!”
I should point out that Nikita is a talented musician. She began her transition some years ago and now enjoys life as the woman she is mean to be.
The reason I mention this is that, as someone who transitioned at 62, her story is one that I know many of my members will find of interest. Nikita has just released her new book and I include a link below and encourage my members to reach out for it.
In “Both Sides of the Great Divide,” Nikita Carter describes her awakening. How, at 60 years of age, a series of shattering experiences lead to her being “broken open” to the awareness that she is a trans woman, and that she must make changes in her life that reflect that truth.A musician, composer, educator, producer, the past Artistic Director of a music company, and founder and co-leader of a large ensemble orchestra. Today, Nikita emerges from a life filled with extraordinary experiences and people, as a strong, confident, loving advocate for the trans community, a “hybrid being, being hybrid.”
Sylvester came over for coffee this morning, looking a little downcast. I was quite concerned for millisecond or two. You know I have a very caring nature, I am sure.
As I poured the freshly brewed coffee into his ‘You don’t have to be mad to work here’ mug he spelled out the source of his troubles.
“It’s this yoga class,” he said. “I’ve been going to this studio for a year or so but recently I’ve started doing it remotely, and the studio does it on Zoom.”
“Oh,” I said. “That doesn’t sound very ‘yoga-like’.”
“Lot’s of places do it like that now,” he said.
“I see, so what’s the problem?”
“It’s Captain,” replied Sylvester.
Perhaps you remember Sylvester inherited a parrot, Captain, from a relative who passed away. She had been a school teacher and had owned the beautiful macaw for donkeys years. It had been a big hit at the girls school at which she taught, until someone taught the bird to start using some profane words. For some time now Sylvester has been doing his best to retrain the bird – https://fionadobson.com/you-wont-believe-what-came-across-my-desk/. To be quite honest, though, I think Sylvester is the one who has been trained. He certainly seems to have extended his vocabulary of swear words. This is unsurprising to me.
“I was doing my yoga practice and there were a dozen of us all signed in on Zoom, and the teacher, a friend of Rainbow’s, was there leading the class.”
“Yes, I think I understand,” I said.
“And there on my screen is everyone and the teacher in the centre on the bigger panel. It’s all very sophisticated,’ said Sylvester.
“It sounds like it,” I said humoring him.
“So there I am in cobra, sticking my chest out, when suddenly Captain starts up, squawking away, “Show us your tits, Show us your tits!”. And then, of course the Zoom focus shifts to me as it goes to the sound and I am right in the middle of the screen.”
“Oh,” I said. “That’s awkward. It’s a good job there were only 12 people online!”
“Yeah, except that it’s on the screens in the yoga studio. Apparently they had record attendance. Fifty students,” said Sylvester.
“I see,” I said thoughtfully. “Perhaps you should move him into another room when you’re doing yoga,” I said helpfully.
Sylvester looked at me rather coolly.
“I’ll try to remember that in future,” he said.
“Other than that, how is Captain?” I asked.
“Oh, he’s fine. After that incident I’ve had a few messages from people who want to meet him, oddly enough. My friend Daphanie suggested he should have an OnlyFans page,” he said.
With the cooler weather I have been trying to organise my social calendar more thoughtfully. I do, of course, enjoy the Curling Season. I like to support the local team. I keep an eye on the scores and regularly get them down for the team. It’s a very social sport.
Auntie Kittie keeps asking me to join her card playing friends, they’re always looking for new victims. She likes an evening of cards often wrapping up with having some blackjack or some stud poker. At least I think that’s how she explained it.
Personally I’ve never liked the idea of gambling with card games. I can see myself getting into awful trouble, loosing everything and being forced into some terrible circumstances and forced into poverty. I might have to resort to sex work, or worse still, journalism. Urgh.
I want to make a special shout out today to my friend Andy, who is in Warsaw and has been marking this week of Transgender Awareness week. You can find her channel here – https://www.youtube.com/@Andy_trans_education/videos Andy’s videos are very sincere and authentic. I think you will find them interesting and informative.
I am currently transitioning my programs to Patreon. You can follow me there for free, or join one of the tiers (from as little as $1 a month). You can find my Patreon here – http://Patreon.com/fionadobsonCD
It was when I was cycling back from the advertising agency toward Huckleberry close thinking about the last meeting of the day that a rather odd thought crossed my mind. As you likely know, working in the advertising business I am consulted on a wide range of public relations matters by all sorts of organisations.
I found myself wondering how appropriate it was that the dental school at the medical faculty of the University of British Columbia should wish to celebrate the hundred year anniversary of their organisation by putting up a plaque. It just seemed strangely ironic. I can’t think why.
Being the first week of November it’s the start of the advertising agency awards dinners. I was excited to go out tonight, and sure enough when I arrived home I ran upstairs, had a quick shower and started dressing for the evening. It was then that I was disturbed by a terrific banging. Not what you think. Sylvester had arrived at the front door, and I hurried downstairs and let him in. I take him along to these things as my plus one. And this evening I was up for an award for my work on negotiation skills. Perhaps you are familiar with my groundbreaking work on ‘Getting to No’ or ‘The Crossdresser’s Workplace Phrase Book‘.
Sylvester came upstairs to the bathroom and watched me doing my make up and caught me up on the local gossip. You know, he comes into the bathroom and plants himself on the toilet, and chatters away like a very large budgerigar. Thankfully he was not putting the toilet to use, but merely using it as a place to sit. Regardless, it is a little disturbing being watched by a man on the bog as I do my make up.
“..and that Marcus down the road, the one that works out in the park every morning. He was in my shop the other day, it turns out he’s coming out as gay,” said Sylvester. “He said life had sort of crept up on him from behind and leapt on him. He feels he can’t go through life hiding behind a mask.”
I carefully applied a little contouring to my face and then started working on my eye shadow. I do like Mac make up, and they do a lot for the community.
“Oh,” I said as I studied my eyelids in the mirror, “I totally understand.”
I checked my lipstick color against my blouse. Perfect.
“Yes,” I said thoughtfully. “I always thought Marcus had something going on. I think it was those shiny gold boy shorts he wears when he works out. No, I couldn’t live life behind a mask,” I continued as I completed the final touches to my lip liner. “I feel it’s important to be absolutely authentic and to live one’s truth.”
I put a touch of shimmer dust on my cheekbones, straightened my hair and stepped into my heels, and grabbed a little Prada clutch bag.
“It’s too easy to become superficial if one simply submits to societal norms,” I said as we shut the front door and walked to Sylvester’s car.
“No,” said Sylvester opening the card door for me. “It’s better to be your true self,” he agreed.
For those feeling concerned about the election and needing to chat I would strongly suggest you join my free Whatsapp Support Group. You can find the sign up here – https://fionadobson.com/you-can-now-join-our-online-support-group-for-us-based-trans-people-for-free/ . We’ve got members from all over the US and a few Europeans too. All are welcome. Judging by what the former rapist is doing in terms of appointments, I think we may be in the support group mode for the long haul. One can really only find encouragement from the idea that most of the people he is appointing have a history of massive incompetence and not being able to work with anyone. The idiot Musk is a great example. Just because someone can run a business doesn’t mean they have remotely the skill set to run a government department. Let’s sit back and watch the carnage. I’m sure they will turn on one another soon enough, it’s all they’re good at.
All that said, I hope you have a wonderful week. This is transgender week of awareness. Please take a moment to give your thoughts to Nex Benedict and Brianna Ghey. They are just two lives among many cut short through ignorance and hatred. We must never forget. As we approach Transgender Day Of Remembrance please give them a moments thought or prayer. We must cherish all our sisters.
Fiona
PS. Enjoy the video below. I know I have posted it before, but Boggie is great.
“This knob is very stiff,” I said to Sylvester, as I relaxed in the seat.
Oh, I should explain, he’s been installing a new sound system in my car.
“I can loosen it a little,” said Sylvester, “but you don’t want it so loose that someone ends up jerking it off. You wouldn’t want that.”
“Speak for yourself,” I replied.
However, that’s not the reason I’m writing to you. Mildred, from Colorado Springs writes:
“Fiona, I’d like to be reminded of you every morning when I have my first cup of coffee of the day. And I’d also like to discretely show my support for trans people and those of us that are of a gender non-conforming bent. What can you do to help?
Love from Mildred, Colorado Springs.
PS. Why do I get so much mail that starts out “Dear Sir or Madam’? Is there something I should know?”
OK. One thing at a time.
Yes, of course I have something to help you first thing in the morning. And a discrete way to show your support to all our members and friends. I was in a conversation with Sebastian about this just yesterday. I can see him in my minds eye right now, sitting on my right hand after we’d finished yoga, while I enjoyed a soothing cup of Earl Grey Tea.
“Those nice boys and girls at Patreon can help you. They can make a cup and give it to any member who joins as a Unicorn and stays on for three months,” he told me while pulling his yoga pants back on.
“That’s a curiously random piece of information to have,” I replied.
It’s true, though. If you join my Patreon as a Unicorn after three months you will receive this lovely mug, complete with the image here. This will be recognizable to anyone interested in gender issues, though won’t really mean much to anyone else. I’m told it’s really a good idea. It is also a great conversation starter.
Keep in in this is my first venture into the world of ‘Merch’. It all sounds so very sordid. Anyway, Max will oversee the tech side of it. He’s recovered from the last flogging he had. I think that was for something to do with us being kicked off Tumblr. Again! Either way I will see it’s done well.
So, pound my button as hard as you can and sign up as a Unicorn Member and in three months you’ll get a cool cup to help you enjoy me every morning. Wait. That’s not what I meant.
I was talking to Sylvester this very morning. He said to me, “How is it that anyone who was alive in the eighties and nineties- people who listened to our music – could possibly vote for that stinking pile of orange crap?”
“I assume you are talking about Mr. Trump,” I said. “And I’ll thank you not to use that language in my kitchen.”
“Really, though!” He said. “How can this election be this close? People who lived through Boy George, The Thompson Twins and David Bowie… How can they betray the things we all believed in?”
“Sylvester, calm down,” I suggested. “In any given population you are going to get a certain number of people who are either misinformed, selfish or monumentally stupid. People who don’t understand how to use Google to check facts. They’re what we call in Canada, ‘Morons’. We will see exactly how many there are in the US in a few days.”
“You can usually tell them apart from normal people,” I continued. “They refuse to consider any opinion but their own, often buy into ideas that keep them at the bottom of the social pile, and are too uneducated to realise that what they think is commitment is actually ignorance. They fear women, they fear immigrants and they fear people who don’t subscribe to their brand of idiocy. They also often think that their gun is a solution.”
As you likely know Pig And Pig Farmer was one of the first publications to endorse Donald Trump in 2016. Even Amanda, who edits this venerable publication has refused to endorse the foul pile of orange crap this year.
She just can’t bring herself to vote for a person who sexually abuses women, pushing policies that will damage so many people, and only enrich the wealthy few. While Trans healthcare is not her foremost concern, as a mother she can’t in good conscience vote for a person who is denying so many women the right to autonomy over their body. She knows that if one of her daughters needs an abortion, she doesn’t want to have to argue the point with a politician or a law enforcement officer.
“Amanda,” I said as we chatted on the phone while I organised a few things in my office, “most of the things they blame on Biden are nothing to do with him. I assure you this isn’t the first time the middle east has had a war, and while they blame Biden for the immigration situation, I guarantee you that’s something that’s been developing over decades. They’ll take these issues and try and manipulate you into thinking they’re all the fault of the person in power. As for that Afghanistan mess, Trump created the whole thing by being an inexperienced and naïve commander in chief. The truth is, neither of them are great, but Trump comes with a whole fascist agenda – and that’s what our parents fought a war to overcome.”
I then had to ring off as I told her I had to assign a few jobs to the team her and hand jobs out in the board room. I really do think her hearing is going.
“Hand jobs out in the boardroom?” she replied.
“Don’t worry, Amanda,” I said. “Things will work out if everyone keeps their heads.”
Sebastian stopped by during the morning, too. As you know, his sister is named Rainbow. What you might not know is that she’s named after the Greenpeace ship, Rainbow Warrior. As you can imagine she was raised with values around the environment that are dear to my own heart. Here in beautiful British Columbia we live by the words, leave only footprints behind. To be fair, my footprints are usually with a very pronounced four inch heel – but looking after the environment is very dear to my heart. It’s a small thing, but I don’t want my children living on a burned out cinder of a planet. And talk of ‘drill baby, drill’ turns my stomach. If you can imagine a dinosaur looking up at the sky and saying, ‘Gee, isn’t that a great looking asteroid heading our way! Let’s try and get a closer look!’, then you can imagine the way I feel about pushing carbon fuels further than absolutely necessary.
Personally, it’s the trans persecution that is the hardest of many lines that have been crossed. I know of many trans people who are feeling frightened by the possibility of losing health care. If he gets in, that’s practically guaranteed to end. Any thought that RFK has any knowledge or understanding of modern healthcare is beyond comprehension. That Trump would give that antivaxxer any say in health matters defies understanding – yet no more so than injecting bleach to overcome Covid.
Only someone who fails to understand how tariffs work could ever suggest the idea of bringing in tariffs in a country that imports so many of its consumer goods. The tariffs will come straight out of American pockets and trigger one of the worst recessions the US has ever seen.
And let’s be honest here. He’s going to be dead long before his mess gets cleaned up. He’s an old crock who is making his last play before he dies a lonely failed little man. Most people stupid enough to vote for that will have to live with the results longer than he will. Unfortunately, if he gets in, so will the rest of the US. For those of us who are trans, the consequences will be far reaching. Fortunately, Canada will always provide a home to people persecuted in their home countries.
As for making America great again, if Trump is elected the US will become the laughing stock of the world. Except that if you’re trans, it’s not going to be very funny. Anyone voting for Trump is no friend of the Transgender movement, and they’re no friend of mine.
Many of us are worried. Of course, it’s a worrying time. However, we will get through this. I’m online much of the time over the next few days. Visit the website if you need to, and look for the chat system if you need to talk. I will make m yself as available as I can. We’re going to be ok.
Have a voting plan, take a friend and bring whatever you need in case you need to wait in line. Make it count.
“It says here,” said Sylvester, “that due to a remarkable breakthrough in medical science, some sufferers of bone spurs are now able to be active into their senior years, even running at the age of 78!”
“That’s wonderful,” I said and placed the cup of tea in front of him.
“Do you really think you should get your medical news from the Fox News website,” I asked.
But that’s not the main reason I thought I would write to you. I wanted to let you know that I’ve just released a story you may enjoy on my site, you can find it here – https://fionadobson.com/my-father-thought-he-had-three-boys/ For most of us, relationships with parents can be quite fraught. You may enjoy this.
I had a note from Jeff, one of my lovely members in Louisiana, who asked, “Fiona, I love your great advice about clothes and cooking. The recipe you sent me for better buns has proved a winner. However, I am concerned that I live in a state that is unlikely to swing to the Democratic party and I don’t know how to be supportive to my trans sisters. What should I do?”
I’m so glad you asked, Jeff. The fact is you must vote your conscience as best you can. Obviously, if you have either a mother, wife or daughter you can’t in all good conscience vote GOP as the right to control of a woman’s body is a matter for the individual rather than the state. However, in terms of supporting your trans sisters, if you are in a firmly red state you can still help. Making a small donation to Zooey Zephyr will help her and keep her in the Montana legislature. Getting behind her, even if you are not in her state, will strengthen our foothold. Before long there will be others. After all, it’s not like we’re going away any time soon. So, counter intuitive as it may seem, donating to Zooey really does further our cause all over. We’re not going to get far unless we stick together. As the great philosopher Maya Angelou said, “We get by with a little help from our friends.”
For those interested in some personal news – monumental personal news – be sure to check out my Patreon. You can join the free level if you need to. For the in depth background, of course, there’s always the Behind The Scenes membership.
Sylvester came into my kitchen this morning with a smug look on his face and asked me, “Is your refrigerator running?”
I sighed and thought to myself, ‘ok, Sylvester’s learned a joke. I better let him do it.’
“I believe it is,” I said glancing at the fridge in an exaggerated manner.
“Good, because if it is, I’ll vote for it,” Sylvester then collapsed in a quivering mass of his own laughter. I sipped my coffee patiently until this display of idiocy was over.
“What is this, a Democratic Party ‘in joke’?” I asked.
Sylvester was still quivering. It was unusual to see Sylvester laughing at a joke that didn’t involve panties, coming in the back way or pulling someone’s finger. You know, Sylvester really can be quite coarse at times. Is there a small chance he could be evolving from his Neanderthal roots?
But that’s not the main reason I am writing today, and don’t worry, it’s not going to be an email soaked in political hyperbole. I know some of my members don’t like that. So instead, being Canadian, I thought I’d tell you a quick hockey story. Yeah. That’s more fun. And I have to say, I do like going down to the hockey rink and watching local teams play. I have even supported the local team by volunteering and helping them with the electric scoreboard. I love to go down there and score with the boys. I like to help out the girls too, of course. I always keep my hand in.
But, you’re diverting me from the main thrust of the story today. We have this player who has been the main scorer of the local team. He’s very talented but he’s been having some issues lately. And in a couple of weeks we have a critical game against another very good team. They’re not professional but I know at least one player on their team is exceptional and used to play at a very high level, so we need to be very organised.
Sebastian, who is a very sound strategist, surprisingly for a kombucha drinking yogi, understands.
“Joe is just too old. He’s got arthritis in his knees. And he keeps forgetting to show up for practice,” said Sebastian, while adjusting my downward dog yoga position from behind. “And if we lose this game we’ll be out of the league. It took us at least four years to get back in last time we were relegated.”
“I can see the problem,” I said, easing into the pose.
“I don’t think there’s any choice,” he went on. “We just need to substitute him out for someone better than we had before. Better, stronger, faster.”
“Do we have that technology?” I said.
“We have the technology,” replied Sebastian, very seriously.
“It’s so obvious,” I agreed. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Sebastian can be unusually wise. His views have adjusted my own from time to time and I find his insights penetrate deeply at both an intellectual and physical level. Anyway, I thought I should share that non-political update with you.
Have a lovely week. Be sure to sign up as a good gurl this week if you haven’t already, as Auntie Kittie is keen for me to suggest a few more sissies come her way. Those were her words, not mine.
So many of us agonize over finding clothing that fits perfectly. It has to be said that the beauty of this type of garment is that it fits most body types well. I like something that covers my shoulders and steers the eye toward a bit of cleavage.
It’s typical of Sylvester that when I say I am going to slip into something simple, he assumes I mean Rainbow. He really can be quite coarse at times. I find it good to give him a pre-emptive slap around the head now and then.
“What was that for?” he says.
“It’s for what you’re going to think, if you’re not doing so already,” I tell him helpfully.
I do like to steer people in a good direction. So, here’s a handy tip. If you like wearing jeans, think about getting a simple leotard that you can slip into, and suddenly you’ve got a very femme outfit which is simple to put together and always looks attractive.
Here’s a link to a leotard that’s only around $22 and is a great asset to any trans wardrobe.
I like to wear this type of thing with a pair of high waisted jeans. If you add heels it’s super femme. This is what I’m wearing this weekend.
Be sure to join my Patreon Community chat, or perhaps you’ll find me chatting online on the website. And don’t forget, you can always use my ‘back door’ on Patreon for just $1 a month.
What a busy week it’s been. Poor Sylvester has barely even got his chopper out. He’s looking most frustrated.
I’ve told him, there are times when circumstances just don’t allow a good ride, and it’s times like that we have to do the preventative maintenance. He usually looks despondent when I say such things, and then goes off to grease his nipples, or something. I have no idea what that is, by the way. Anyway, perhaps the weather will improve and he’ll be able to get out on his bike.
So, after seeing the debate I reached for a nice length of rope to go and hang myself, changed my mind and then wrote a cutting post. After posting it, I thought better of things and deleted it. Few people come to my site for political commentary. All I can say is we now get to see whether people are capable of facing facts, biting the bullet and asking a good man to do what’s best for the country and withdraw from the race. Personally, I feel Joe is a good man, and he’s done ok. But now it’s time. His ambitions and the ambitions of those that surround him simply do not take precedence over the future of a country. My concern is most of all for the many trans kids who will see an end to their medications if the rapist felon gets elected. I know we cannot depend on the liar to protect trans rights, or to protect anyone but himself for that matter.
So, what can we do? Right away you can familiarise yourself with this – https://fionadobson.com/the-three-things-you-can-do-right-now-to-advance-transgender-rights/ – which is a good starting point. If you live in an area which has no pathway to support for a candidate that could get themselves elected, then I would strongly suggest backing a candidate in a location they may be able to get elected, even if this is far from you. If you live in the middle of a right wing enclave, you can donate to Zooey Zephyr, in Montana and lend her your support. Those of us outside the USA can’t donate to support US candidates, there are rules against that, but we can look to people who are advancing trans rights in our own country and lend them whatever support we can. Sometimes this is monetary, sometimes by volunteering, and sometimes simply by expressing support for their message.
We are definitely living at a strange time in history. However, we’ve always been here, and we will always be here. Supporting our sisters in any way we can is more important than ever. This week I was travelling in the foothills of the rocky mountains, and in a small town hardly big enough to swing a cat in I stopped to buy a coffee on a very long drive. To my surprise a trans girl came in as I was ordering my coffee. I would guess she was 20 years old. She looked lovely and I turned to her, complimented her on her lovely hair, and then told her how those of us who are older are so very proud of our young sisters. I said to her, ‘you carry a flag that we were unable to, and we admire you for that. When we are gone, you will carry that flag onward.’
She was so grateful. Many of us face a very solitary journey. When we are able to express our support for one another it really helps.
With this in mind I am offering the first five people who email me at fdobson@zoho.com with the email subject line ‘I support my sisters’ free membership of my Whatsapp Group. This is usually $10 a month, so it’s a substantial saving. Remember to check out the guidelines for the group chat. It’s been running very well for years and is a supportive place for many members unable to find community elsewhere. If you’d like another opportunity to chat with others, you can do so by choosing one of the options on my Patreon and using the community chat there. Just remember to keep it respectful and clean. It’s about supporting one another.
You can get into my Patreon for as little as a dollar a month, and I could really use some new members there. Jump in and use ‘my back door’ if you want to be supportive.
As you may know, I had suggested therapy to Rainbow, which she took to mean she should train in it, rather than find a decent therapist. As her training has progressed she’s become really quite animated in the subject.
She came over to breakfast just the other day and asked my advice about some marketing she was doing. As one of Canada’s leading crossdressing advertising executives I felt compelled to help. She showed me a draft of some promotional material she was getting ready for a counselling group she’s running.
“I’ve decided to form a meet up group,” she said.
“That’s wonderful. I’m sure that will be most helpful. And who is the group for,” I asked.
“Oh, it’s a meet up group for people suffering from social anxiety,” she said.
I looked at her doubtfully. I was immediately put in mind of a campaign for the Eczema Awareness Foundation which one of the junior members of the accounts team at the advertising agency I work at, had suggested. He seemed keen on the idea of a scratch card promotion until I explained that this might not be the best way to promote Eczema awareness. Rainbow’s idea of a meet up group for people with social anxiety seemed likely to have the same likelihood of success.
“You don’t think a meet up group might be a little hard to encourage people with social anxiety to participate in?” I said innocently.
Rainbow then showed me several of the photographs she was using to promote the group. I should point out that Rainbow, a yoga teacher, has a stunning body. However, the photographs were bordering on pornographic, they were so very explicit. I felt quite awkward looking at them.
“The pictures are lovely, Rainbow,” I said kindly, “but do you think them entirely appropriate for this group?”
She replied quite swiftly that “Inner beauty is in the third eye of the beholder.”
It’s hard to argue with logic like that.
“I’m sure these pictures are perfect,” I said.
I realize that it’s never easy working with people with challenges such as social anxiety. It can be a very serious problem for may people. It’s a good job I am blessed with such a sensitive nature, which is of course so common amongst those of us who are transgender. Sadly, my friend Sylvester is not so gifted in this department. He had suggested that they should have an Egg and Spoon race in the Special Olympics, for people suffering from Parkinson’s Disease. Really. He is the limit at times. Obviously Sylvester does not share my kindly nature.
As we go into the summer I hope you’ve found some great clothes to wear and that you’re enjoying the content on my site. Be sure to drop by, and if you’re not already on my Patrion by sure to look in on it. You can even use my ‘back door’ for just $1 a month!
It’s the weekend of the company summer party. An air of excitement is permeating all of Huckleberry Close. Naturally a few of my friends have come by and will be joining me at the costumed event.
After finding the perfect ensemble, I decided to go a little retro and go as Xena Warrior Princess. I have always liked that look, and like Xena consider myself something of a problem solver. It’s just the kind of gurl I am. As Sylvester, Ali, Max and I prepared for the party and got into our costumes Max’s mother, Marjorie, came over to see what all the excitement was about.
“Hello, Marjorie,” I said as she wandered into my kitchen. “We’re almost ready.”
“So, I can see,” she replied eyeing my breast plate. “And Max is doing a wonderful job of buffing up the brass of that breast plate.”
“He’s been most helpful,” I replied.
“Wouldn’t it have been easier if you’d taken it off first?” asked Marjorie.
“Oh, no,” I replied. “What with Max so hard at work…”
At that moment Ali came in, dressed in a set of Klan robes.
“Ali,” I said. “Are you sure that’s entirely appropriate?”
My Syrian friend replied, “I thought I looked very presidential.”
I could hardly fault that, and said so.
“Perhaps we should all go out and stand on the front lawn. Marjorie could take a photograph of us from the landing upstairs? That window overlooks the garden and the picture will lovely with the roses in the background.”
Marjorie agreed and went up the stairs. A moment later she called down to say she couldn’t get the window open, and that she needed a little help. The window seemed blocked by something from the outside.
“Don’t worry,” cried Ali. “I’ll get a ladder and clear it up.” With that, and a flurry of robes, Ali disappeared to get a ladder. Now the reason I explain all this is simple enough. You can imagine the scene when I was then standing on the front lawn, along with Sylvester dressed like a warrior from Middle Earth, about to go on a quest, Max as a Viking, and all of us staring up a ladder at Ali dressed as a KKK klansman, complete with hood, trying to open the upstairs window of my house on a sunny midweek afternoon.
As the sun glinted off my breastplate, we heard the silent hum of Amanda, my wife’s appalling friend, arriving unannounced to visit my wife – who is unfortunately travelling at present.
With the unmistakable sound of tweed rustling she stepped from her car, open mouthed, and said “What on earth is going on here?”
“Ali’s taking care of a blockage,” I said helpfully, and stared up the ladder. Amanda followed my gaze.
“That’s Ali? I thought you’d finally upset the wrong people,” murmured Amanda with her usual distaste for everyone around her.
Ali’s voice drifted down, “Marjories Areolas are coming out beautifully this year. I’ve not seen her garden from this angle before.”
Sometimes I wonder about Ali’s English lessons. Being a Syrian refugee, who was welcomed to Canada in somewhat disadvantaged circumstances, one might forget that he was also a professor in Damascus University prior to the war.
“I thought something dreadful was happening, as I drove up. I could see this crazy Klansman trying to break in through the window. I thought maybe… Honestly, those people should be bloody well hung!”
Looking up Ali’s klan robe, I replied, “Amanda, from where I’m standing, I think Ali’s pretty well…”
“Oh my god,” said Amanda. “You people make me bloody sick. I just dropped by to tell Max, he’s got the job at Pig And Pig Farmer Weekly as my editorial assistant.”
“Oh,” I replied. “What a sparkling start to a career in journalism. Today Pig and Pig Farmer Weekly, tomorrow the world!”
I was trying to explain to Rainbow that she was mistaken about Australia having been annexed by Germany in 1938, when her brother Sebastian arrived to join me before breakfast for a yoga class. I do enjoy the early morning yoga classes. Having a personal trainer so committed to my body is something I feel great gratitude for.
Sebastian is a wonderful trainer. How can I best describe his teaching style? I suppose it’s best to call it ‘deeply penetrative’.
I poured a glass of orange juice for each of us, before we started the class. Now, you may remember that Rainbow is studying to be a therapist. When I had suggested to her that therapy might be a good option for her, I had meant participation, rather than training, but she had grasped the wrong end of the stick, and here we are.
“We’ve been learning about Freud,” she told me. “I’m fascinated by Australia.”
I was confused.
“You know,” she said. “Where the marsupials come from.”
Gradually I realised she’d confused Austria with Australia. I thought I should explain a little about European history and things went down hill from there. When she pointed out that Europeans were so much more cultured than those of us here in North America I took issue with her. That was the point that she started on about how Leonardo was so multitalented, with the whole painting, mathematics and engineering, and making all those films, too! Apparently she loved Titanic.
Rainbow has recently started dating Epiphany. While her heart may have swelled the same can’t be said for her intellect, I fear.
But that’s not the main reason I am writing. As spring rushes in and we prepare for summer I have a fun task for you. It’s thrift store time. Yes, it’s time to go out and scan the thrift stores for something fun to wear. But this time I’d like you to do it a little differently. I’d like you to try and buy something that is fairly androgynous. Feminine, but just safe enough for you to wear around without being obviously crossdressing. Yes, this is part of your gradual move to a more androgynous look. Pastel colors, a little feminine but not so very much that you feel uncomfortable around people you know. Push your boundaries, but not too far.
Have fun out there, and remember, ‘recycle, reuse and reduce’. You’ll be doing your bit to save the planet.
🙂
Fiona
PS. Enjoy the song below. If you’re a member of my Behind The Scenes group you’ll know why this is a special one for me.
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When I got an urgent call this morning asking me to stand in as Master of Ceremonies for a charity event, I was caught short completely. It was really quite tragic, their own MC having met with an unusual accident involving a hamster, a length of pipe and a lighter. I’m told they should be out of hospital in a week or so, though the hamster was less fortunate. The situation was made doubly dramatic as I had just sent several of my favorite dresses to the dry cleaners as I have a string of events to attend in the coming weeks, and I had nothing to wear. However, as luck would have it I received a delivery when I got to work directly from my friends at Glamour Boutique.
What a stroke of fortune, a beautiful purple lace sleeve dress delivered in their usual discrete packaging. Now, there’s a number of excellent reasons you should buy from a supplier like Glamour Boutique, rather than off the shelf. I will go into that shortly, but first, let me tell you exactly how this evening played out.
I called Sylvester who, while he does look like a gorilla that has been strategically shaved when he wears a suit, can be quite fun at these events. He agreed to join me at home at Huckleberry Close and we would then go on from there.
He pulled into my drive right behind me as I arrived home from work, and then waited in the living room as I hurried upstairs to change. As I did so I called down, saying “You’ll have to give me a moment to slip into something.”
I pulled on some fishnets, slipped into a pair of patent leather black heels, and then stepped into the dress. A moment spent on make up, and then I descended the stairs. Sylvester was gawping at me as I walked into the hallway.
I turned and inspected myself in the full length mirror, Sylvester looming behind me like a great henge.
I watched his reflection as I adjusted my hair, and saw how his gaze fell to my behind, framed nicely by the cut of this particular dress.
“Yes,” he muttered. “Slipping into that seems a good idea…”
“Sylvester,” I said sharply and he averted his gaze. He really can be most coarse at times.
Moments later we were off to the event, Sylvester driving and I feeling quite excited. A new dress always makes me feel coquettish. Particularly this one. The lace sleeves are so perfect for crossdressers, as they hide a multitude of sins, such as unsightly arm hair. Additionally, the cut of this particular dress is perfect for so many of us. The Empire waist really is a good choice for those of us in the gender fluid space. Most of us don’t have a very pronounced waist, but this style really does lend us a little more shape.
I’ve said before that buying from a company like Glamour Boutique is a good idea. These dresses are synthetic and almost impossible to crease. This is important to me as there are times I have to fling something in a bag without much preparation, and I may not be able to hang it as precisely as a silk or cotton dress might need. Wearing creased clothing is always awkward and a sign of very poor taste. This comfortably sized synthetic dress fits easily to the curves of my body, while still giving a little in those areas I need it to. The fabric has enough stretch to work for a male body shape, and for those of us who occasionally like to add a few body form accessories. After all, don’t we all have moments where adding a little extra presence to our bust measurement can be done to good effect?
Well made crossdressing dresses will work with or without such accessories, and stretch to accommodate either option. This is why I generally go with clothing from Glamour Boutique, rather than from local stores. I know I will get clothes specifically chosen to be good for a crossdresser, rather than something that might look great in the store but really doesn’t work so well in front of the mirror at home while Sylvester stares at my ass.
And on the subject of my ass, I have to tell you I love this empire waist. It’s not usually my first choice of dress shape, but it really does work well. Coupled with a high heel the effect is to give just the right flare to the dress, as my ass is slightly exaggerated by the cut of the dress combined with a nice heel. The effect is a dress that has a nice swing to it, looks smooth and well fitted and is really comfortable to wear. So, you can see, I was pretty happy to get to the event, stand up in front of the crowd and enjoy a moment in the spotlight looking great.
I know you will have the same sense of satisfaction if you get in touch with my friends at Glamour Boutique. Be sure to tell them I sent you.
Sylvester looked skeptically at the newspaper. He is one of the holdouts that do still read the physical paper, and his heavy knotted brow was twisted in concentration. His Neanderthal roots were showing.
“Did you see this?” he asked, while I was grinding the coffee.
“What’s that, Sylvester. The picture of Auntie Kittie’s niece in the Girl Scouts?” I replied.
“I don’t think that would make the pages of the New York Times,” he replied.
“Oh, I thought you were reading the local paper. Auntie Kittie’s niece Emma was in it. She got another badge. I think it was for fire starting, or gender awareness. Something like that.”
“She’s very proud of those girls,” said Sylvester. “But no. It’s this story. It says here that they’re making children have babies in Texas.”
“I hope the Girl Scouts down there are giving them a badge for teenage pregnancy,” I muttered.
“It’s this whole abortion issue,” he continued. “I can’t believe this is happening in the 21st century.”
“I can’t understand why anyone with either a daughter, a sister or a mother could possibly accept giving up the right to an abortion,” I said. “It’s like the whole world has gone mad.”
At that very moment I spied Auntie Kittie cycling up the road toward my house.
Sylvester glanced round and seeing her said, “Here she comes. She’s riding ‘the cycle of abuse’.”
“Why do you call her bicycle that,” I asked.
“Have you heard how it squeaks? She never oils it,” replied Sylvester, who is indeed of a mechanical bent. He went on to say, “The last time that thing was lubricated they were still using whale oil.”
“Well,” I said taken aback. “I don’t think that’s a very nice way to talk about Auntie Kittie, Sylvester!”
You know Sylvester really can be quite coarse at times.
On a serious note, just keep in mind anyone who is aligning themselves with the denial of a woman’s right to choose, will be coming for us, too. It starts to make political decisions very simple. Whatever your past voting pattern, don’t be fooled into thinking this is your grand dad’s political environment. There’s already trans people out there fighting for their lives and loosing. Just ask Brianna Ghey or Nex Benedict.
I do hope you’re having a good week. I am taking the time to catch up on a few things having been away for a little in Europe. A little what, you may well ask. I won’t be answering that anytime soon! Let’s just say my body is feeling particularly tired, and like Auntie Kittie’s bicycle could indeed use a little lubrication.
