Still Lingering

I have had a bit of an hiatus in service here, and between my last two posts I see that there was an eight day break. Interestingly I do still get visitors to the blog even when I don't have any nice up to date posts, indeed that is when I get some of my older posts being inspected.   Blogger gives me a bit of a breakdown and over that week my most popular post was one from quite a while back, all the way back to July 2013.    I think it must be something to do with the title of that particular post and the Google searches that some people do. That particular post can be seen here! I'm not sure that it was my finest moment, but who am I to judge!

Co-incidentally this last week or so my favorite cartoonist has been running a series on my favorite strip.   He has had my favorite character working on what would be my favorite job (in my dreams).

However this did make me think, what actually is the difference between lingerie and underwear;- I have some pants that are simply pants, but if I wear them with a matching bra they magically transform into lingerie, so is it the material? the intent? or maybe the marketing?

Certainly some brands have more allure than others, just the names Janet Reager, Agent Provocateur or Figleaves just sound so much more alluring than Marks & Spencer or Matalan. I suspect that this is definitely a case of less is more, i.e. the more you pay the less you get!

I certainly know that most women I know prefer bras that are not underwired, I am now beginning to understand why, yet whenever I go into lingerie departments the vast majority of bras are underwired, so they are not being made primarily for the comfort of the woman.   I suspect that this is a subject I will be revisiting, certainly my perspective on the such things has changed over the last few years, yet I am still very much of the opinion that life is too short for ugly underwear!

My Favorite Cartoonist Brooke McEldowney
My Favorite Strip 9 Chickweed Lane

And the title is a reference to my post of the 18th November 2012, ironically the dress I was lusting over so much at that time I would now have several opportunities to wear, but it is no longer available ~ heyho!

The Truth

I recently finished reading Terry Pratchett's Disk World novel, "The Truth" there is a line in it somewhere that struck me, and I have been mulling over the idea of writing a post around this quote since reading it a week or so ago.   This morning I woke up a respectable time, and decided that I was going to stay home and get a few things done; but before that I would look up the quote I wanted.   I glanced through the book, then I skimmed through it then I looked a bit harder, until in effect I had totally re-read the whole thing still without finding the line I wanted.

Very frustrated, if a little entertained, I eventually managed to make my way downstairs to get my day properly started.   I pottered around for a while washing up, doing a couple of loads of washing and generally trying to get my act together.   It was only when I sat down with a cup of coffee and started writing this post that I even thought about looking it up on-line.

The line I was interested in is "Sometimes glass glitters more than diamonds because it has more to prove" I felt that this said something about many trans people and how we dress.   I have often observed that I have to dress to assert my femininity as it is not as immediately obvious as it is with most of my cisgendered sisters.  

Although I have recently started to doubt this a little, as I am now beginning to concentrate on what type of a woman I am rather than whether I am a woman at all.   Certainly as being female has become a dwelling place rather than an excursion the height of my heels and the length of skirts have traveled in opposite directions.   I no longer feel that I have to be "obviously" feminine in order to present a feminine image to the world, as I grow in confidence I find that I don't need to try quite so hard.

Don't get me wrong, I do still like my high heels, and my glamorous dresses, it's just that I don't feel I need to wear them all the time, sometimes jeans and a sweater will do just as well.   Maybe I'm learning to glitter more authentically as I find I have less to prove.

Wurst Wins

So against all my expectations Conchita Wurst has won the Eurovision Song Contest for Austria.   As I have been so busy making my own music I have not been following the competition I am in no position to comment on the quality of any of the songs, but I am not at all about her look, or what this will do for general attitudes to the trans community.

Even without the beard I find her look to be a little too high camp, a little too close to "drag" for my taste, with the beard it is just plain confusing.   Personally when I am out I want to be treated like a lady, this involves behaving like a lady.   Part of this is looking as much as possible like a lady.   I don't fool myself that I pass, but I am close enough that people generally treat me appropriately for my presentation.   I know how I want to be treated so that tells me how I have to look, so I try not to look like a hooker (either type!) some one who has raided her smaller teenage daughter's wardrobe, or most of all a transvestite.

Now this maybe because I self identify as a trans woman, not as a transvestite or as a female impersonator, both of which are men in women's clothes, rather I am a woman wearing the right clothes, it's just the body that's wrong.   I will wait and see what effect another high profile fellow traveller will have on general attitudes, I suspect that Conchita's influence will not be as positive as Grayson Perry's.

Just Fantasies

Yesterday I wrote a bit about some fantasies, the thing abut fantasies is that is all they are.   Back in the real world we know in our hearts that they are not reality, they are not aims or ambitions, simply day dreams.   Just as I might dream of owning an Aston Martin, but aspire to one day being able to afford a not too old Skoda.   Sometimes we talk about achieving or dreams, but this is more about achieving our ambitions dreams.   So, that list was simply a list of fantasies.

Ambitions are quite a different matter and are, for me, firmly based in reality.   They also all include my family.   We all have fantasies, and that's fine, it's all part of being human.

It's just that some of us have different fantasies to others

Fatasies

In passing the other day I mentioned that I toyed with some fantasies about what I might do if I were not constrained by the sensitivities of my family.   Well I suppose that this is a little like the bucket list that Stana recently put together.

• Get my ears pierced ~ not sure that I am "man enough" for this I don't like pain and I am very squeamish about piercings, contact lens and all sorts of silly things like that.
• Dye my hair, I have felt totally liberated since I abandoned the wig, and started just wearing my own hair. I am aware that this might be a potential area of dispute in the family but in male mode I prefer my hair longer rather than shorter, so it is not that big a step.  The perm was definitely pushing at the envelope of acceptability, and may not be repeated, but my fantasy was to have it dyed.   The one thing I really, really like about my wig is the colour.   I was surprised because I thought my natural, original hair colour would suit me better but blond works, perhaps because it is about the same shade as the grey I have now naturally reached.
• Have somewhere to hang all Paula's clothes safely, it is a source of frustration that most of my female wardrobe is stored in suitcases in the garage. This means I have to plan so much in advance, make sure that all the bits of the outfit are properly assembled, and in the right place.   I can't go through my wardrobe trying different shoes with a dress, or different tops with a skirt, because they will be in different places.   I have to keep a mental note of what is where and make sure I have everything I need with me. ~ On Sunday as I got myself dressed I suddenly realised that I only had one breast with me where I was getting changed! having returned to the van and found the missing item, and having survived the experience I can now see the funny side, but at the time I can assure you I was not laughing!
• Getting dressed at home ~ one of our new ground rules is that I do not dress at home, so this one is right out, but it would make life so much easier, and safer if I could get ready at home and then go out, I don't want to push my luck but I am hoping that I may be allowed to come in after the others are in bed to get changed, somehow it seems even worse late at night. 

So nothing particularly drastic in the greater scheme of things but things that would have made my life a little easier and more pleasant, on the other I think that the things that we have agreed on are going to be of much more benefit so I am not sorry, and I willingly choose not to have these things that I would like in favour of prolonging our marriage, and who knows, maybe I can negotiate for some of these later.

Fictionmania mania

I have had a lot of hits on the blog recently, and I mean a lot! two or even three times more than I would normally hope for, and it seemed to happen almost over night.   A closer check on my Blogger stats shows that most of these hits are coming from web searches for Fictionmania the transgender fiction web site.   A while back I wrote a post about my views on transgender fiction and how most of it seemed to be fantasy rather than illuminating.   That is where all these fresh searches are taking viewers, since it seems that the main Fictionmania site has disappeared.

Following that post I did have a go at starting a short story where the central character is transgendered, but without using the first person, forced femininity, bondage, sissification, or any of the other fantasy aspects of most of those stories, just showing a little of what it can be like for a cross-dresser.   I never got very far and it has sat on the back shelf of my computer for all those months.   I now feel prompted to get it out, dust it off and offer it to you for our comments and advise.   Personally I did not feel adequate to the task I had set myself, and sort of stalled when I got to the point of trying to express the internal conflicts being felt by the main protagonist.   Please let me know what you think I shall decide whether to try to carry on, or bail out accordingly.   As I was writing for a "civilian" audience please try to read from that point of view.

Philippa was going out, it seemed like a long time since she had last been out and right now she was very excited about it.   Having already spent some time shaping and painting her finger nails, she had just had a long shower and shaved so that her legs and armpits were now as smooth as her face, this gave her a great deal of pleasure, the tingle of the warm water on her smooth legs gave her a thrill of joy, and since she only shaved when going out this was a pleasure to be enjoyed, to be savoured in a leisurely fashion.   She took her time and a great deal of pleasure getting dressed, enjoying the touch of her clothes, the softness of the material against her freshly shaved skin.   Now she sat in front of her mirror applying her makeup, she wanted to look perfect, she knew that unless everything was just right she would lose confidence and not go.   Finally satisfied she put on her blouse and the final part, carefully put on and pined in place her wig, she was pleased with how it looked, not too long and just the same shade of grey as her own dramatically thinning hair, it looked good, she looked good, she felt good.

The drive to the station was uneventful, not the local station, after all she didn’t want to be recognised, but another suburban station far enough away that no one there would know her, and on a different line, so there would be no neighbours travelling on the same train.   All went well until she arrived at the station car park she had to gather her strength, tell herself it would all be OK, that no one would notice her, once she was out of the car and buying her ticket it would begin to get easier.   It was always like this when she went out, keen anticipation, the sensuous pleasure of getting dressed, followed by the nervousness of actually getting out into public view.  

Today was a first, Philippa would be travelling on public transport, this meant leaving another safety zone, up till now she had always known that her car was nearby to be used as an escape route or as a refuge.   Travelling by train meant that she had to see the day through to the end, the whole day, out in public, without refuge, without a bolt hole.   There was that familiar sense of excitement building up, along with fear in almost equal measure.   Looking round there was a man smoking a cigarette leaning against his car on the far side of the car park, no one else was around, she got out of the car glanced over saw the man watch her, she walked across the car park to the station, as she went in the man was still watching her, up to the ticket office window the cashier barely glanced up as she asked for her ticket and handed the money over.   Of course she could have used a ticket machine, but talking to someone, that human contact with a real person was all part of the experience.   Her heart beat returning to normal she made her way onto the platform to wait for the train.   This was going to be the biggest outing yet, the excitement was beginning to overwhelm the fear, soon she would start to relax and enjoy herself.

Looking around on the platform no one seemed to take any notice of the tall well dressed middle aged woman, after only a few minutes the train arrived, Philippa got on found a seat and got a book out of her hand bag.   She tried to read, but worried that she would be spotted she couldn’t stop herself from glancing up to see if anyone was looking at her.   No seemed to be taking any notice of her at all so with her confidence increasing she glanced back down at her book, and had a sudden thrill as she saw her own finger nails, carefully manicured and polished to match her lilac dress.   She couldn’t concentrate on the story, just the thought that here she was out in public, manicured, well dressed, looking forward to a day at the national gallery and a bit of window shopping, on Regents Street, and no one knowing her secret.

Arriving at Charing Cross it was just a short walk across to her destination, the National Gallery.   Not being in any hurry Philippa decided that there was time for a coffee, having bought her latte and resisted the pastries, she found an unoccupied table and sat down.   Looking around, just enjoying being out she didn’t notice the approach of the middle aged man in a grey suit.

“Excuse me, is this seat free?” he said

“Oh, yes, please feel free”

Thanking her and settling himself down, to Philippa’s surprise he carried on,

“Are you here to see anything in particular or just passing through before shopping?”

“I wanted a closer look at the Monets, last time I was here it was far too crowed to get a proper look, anyway what makes you think I don’t work here?” – what was she doing, almost flirting with a strange man, but it felt good, just to engage with someone.

“Well, you don’t look like you work around here, for one thing you’re far to well dressed, most of the girls who aren’t in uniform will just wear jeans.   I think it’s a shame I like to see a lady properly dressed, why don’t women wear dresses much these days”, Girls!

“I don’t know, I always feel a little bit special when I put on a dress, I suppose it’s the difference from the normal, making the effort” if only he knew.

“Well I think you look lovely” how could she react to that, this was the first time she had had a proper conversation with anyone other than shop assistants.

“Thank you, you’re not so shabby yourself” Where did that come from, yes she was flirting, why?

“Well I work up here, so I have to make sure I look fairly smart, sort of goes with the territory; look I have to go and talk to some students now, but I have enjoyed meeting you, will you let me buy you lunch?”

“I’m not sure,” holding up her left hand so that the wedding ring showed, “you know…”

“Just lunch, and a chat”

“err….OK”

“Right then, I’ll meet you here about quarter past one, see you then, oh by the way I’m Michael”

“Philippa”

“OK Philippa, I’ll see you at one fifteen then, bye” with that he stood up and left a rather stunned and confused person.   What had she done?, how had she let this happen? This was meant to just be about wearing the clothes, enjoying the feminine side of her nature, to get away from the humdrum world of being Philip.   When all was said and done though Philip loved his wife, his children, he didn’t want to do anything to hurt them that’s why he kept Philippa quite, that’s why he could not be open about his cross dressing, hid the thrill he got from going our dressed as a woman.   Philip was worried about what had been done, but Philippa was thrilled, someone had noticed her, and liked what they saw, better still they had talked and he had still liked her.

Philippa wasn’t the only one who was confused, Michael was also unsure about his lunch date.   At first he had just thought Philippa was a typical middle aged woman come into town from the suburbs for a bit of shopping, but there were one or two very interesting things about her.    He did like to see a lady properly dressed, there just wasn’t enough elegance around these days, and he was sure he had noticed the tell tale signs of suspender clips through the thin material of her dress, but there was something else.   She seemed calm on the surface and their talk about the paintings had been easy enough, but there was some unease, the way she had kept playing with her wedding ring, then when he asked her to lunch, the way she had just held it up, but still accepted the offer, Michael wasn’t sure about this woman at all, but he was interested.   Sure she was a little tall, nearly as big as he was himself, and very strong features, handsome enough but not pretty, but it was the apparently easy way they had chatted with that undercurrent of nerves, that attracted him, still there something he couldn’t quite put his finger on that said stay away.

It was quite difficult for both of them to get through the morning concentrating on the job in hand, it was probably a bit easier for Philippa, she could lose herself in the landscapes of northern France, if not quite totally in the lily ponds while Michael had to stop thinking about her and concentrate on guiding his tour on medieval art.   Some of the girls on the tour were very attractive, but today Michael barely noticed them, he was just thinking about how long to lunch, and should he even turn up?   As the morning wore on they were both getting more and more nervous, Michael becoming a little fearful, despite telling himself it was only lunch the more he thought about it the more he felt that somehow he was getting into something that was going to be very difficult, in ways he just didn’t yet understand.   On the other hand Philippa’s worries became more and more practical.   First was the fear of an early five o’clock shadow, how could she use the electric shaver she had brought with her in the ladies? The noise it made was sure to get attention, and probably not for the right reasons.   At what point should she tell Michael the truth about herself, if he hadn’t already worked it out.   If he knew she was a man then what did that make him? There were men like that she knew, she had read about them and been warned to be careful by friends.   Was that an avenue that Philippa wanted to explore? Indeed was there any avenue she wanted to explore with a man?   She told herself it was just lunch, but in her heart she knew only too well why a man asked a woman to lunch.   Maybe it was not too late she could just leave and no one would ever know.

Cybil ~ maybe

A while back I was asked in my mind (or probably more accurately in my dreams) who I would like to look as a woman, I was a little flummoxed at the time, and thinking of the way I try to come across the only name that came to mind was Angela Rippon, the BBC news reader of a few years ago.   She is a lady with style poise, and a sense of humour, oh yes and great legs, bothy shown off on the Morecambe and Wise show.

I love this shot of her dancing with Ernie!

But thinking about this in a little more depth, well not much more who would I really like to look like, well although she is actually eight years older than me I would now say Cybil Shepherd, obviously when younger she was stunning to look at in every way, but now she is older she still has it, apparently not afraid to age and still be beautiful. But the thing for me is her smile, most men would do anything for that smile, and I suspect most women as well.

I'm sorry Cybil if a couple of these photos are ones you would rather forget, but at least I resisted the temptation to show one of you in your underwear from "The Last Picture Show" 

So there you have a little insight into the black holes of my mind, and a gratuitous opportunity to put up some pretty pictures.

Well oiled

Well after work this evening I went straight to my osteopath ~ to say that he is a tall quite good looking man probably in his early forties is merely an observation.   I have been seeing him for a couple of years now and we get on well, he is into bonsai and I am a gardener so we share an interest in trees although we do treat them rather differently.

After my last visit I thought it best to remove my bright cherry red nail polish from my toe nails, but there was little I could do about my largely hairless body and legs.   Since this was the case I decided to wear the negative of the panties I wore last time I visited. That is a nice simple pair of white cotton high leg briefs with a black bow.   Again there was no mistaking the fact that these were made to be worn by a woman.
So as usual I stripped down to my scant underwear and stood while he checked my back and shoulders, I have been working hard so there was certainly some work needed. I was soon face down on the massage table with my back being worked on.   Now I am sure that it is not just my imagination that I was worked on for longer than usual, with much more time being spent on my legs, especially my upper legs and my lower back, my very much lower back.    A towel is used to keep the parts not being worked on warm, and to maintain an illusion of decency, but I am quite aware that today I was massaged both above and below the line of my panties.   Don't get me wrong this was very nice and definitely eased some tired muscles, it's just that last time I was offered today's appointment at a discount, and today I found his fingers inside my panties (only from the back!) more than usual, and my legs getting quite a bit of attention - well a gurl can't help wondering.

I am sure that it is just my imagination working overtime but I wonder what would happen if at my next appointment I upped the anti a bit. Maybe I will leave the polish on my toe nails, or maybe some more obvious satin panties....... I don't know it may be fun, or I could lose a very good osteopath.

Fiction Mania?

When we can't actively indulge ourselves in our "hobby" we will often read about those do.   We will read blogs, look at pictures and explore all sorts of avenues that are best left unexplored.   That is the nature of any interest subverted, oppressed, and sidelined by society.   There is a lot of what could loosely be called transgendered fiction out there in Internet land, a lot of it (possibly the best of it) is on the Fictionmania web site.   However it does seem to me that most of it is pretty formulaic, it all seems to be written in the first person and there are basically only three story lines,

1. Boy is caught dressing in his sisters / girl friends / neighbours clothes and as a punishment is forced to wear more of their clothes and go into feminine situations resulting in a sexual encounter.
2. Boy is forced into a situation where he has to dress up as a girl against his will and then ends up in situations where he can't admit that he's really a boy, resulting in a sexual encounter.
3. Boy is forced by dominant female to be subservient, part of the process involves him dressing in a feminine manner, resulting in a sexual encounter.

forgive me if I have missed anything but it seems to me that most of what I read falls into one or the other of these categories.    Some are very well written short stories, some crudely recount a sexual fantasy, I have yet to read one that would attract, or hold the attention of a reader who did not have a special interest.   I long to see a peace of fiction that gives a realistic, positive, portrayal of what it is really like to be a cross dresser.   I remember an interesting play on BBC Radio 4 a while back that started off very promisingly, but ended up with the cross dresser a rapist and a murderer.   Where are the stories about mature men who choose to occasionally present as women, and do ordinary things.   I know that for a story to hold interest something extraordinary needs to happen (except of course in Joseph Hellers "Something Happened"), but does it have to be of either a sexual or a violent nature.

I have the beginnings of a story written, but have stalled as it keeps creeping into one of my own fantasies, and this I want to avoid.   If any of you have some thing you think is worth reading please, please send it to me and I will put it up here (as long as it conforms to the site rules, no sex, nothing nasty all suitable for the office or under 18s).   In the mean time I will revisit my own writing and see if I can bring the story to a conclusion that does not involve any of these three areas of fantasy.

A bit of fantasy

As I was walking down the street yesterday evening I was very conscious of my heels.   For me they are very high, at 5'10" four inch heels raise me to 6' 2" which generally makes me a little self conscious.   They are quite comfortable, but I notice that I have to walk with slightly shorter strides than with 2 or 3 inch heels, and a little slower just to be safe.   I was also very aware of the short a slinky nature of my dress, and the conservative length and quality of my overcoat.   (I promise I will engineer an opportunity to get some photos for you soon)   The coat is a nice dark blue, long, double breasted cashmere, but does have a split up the back, so anyone who choose to check me out would have been able to see plenty of leg as I walked past.

This was actually a very sensual experience and put me in mind of an occasion many years ago, indeed more years than I care to admit to here.    I was still living at home at the time, and had a girlfriend who was, err how can I put this, yes I know, lets say that she was very keen on the physical nature of our relationship.    One evening, not long before Christmas, when she knew that my parents were out she arrived unexpectedly and when I opened the door to her, she opened her coat to reveal that apart from her shoes she just had stockings and lingerie on underneath her coat!   Needless to say we had a very pleasant evening, and afterwards I found myself getting quite excited again thinking about her driving home apart from her coat just wearing her bra, panties, stockings and suspenders.
The coat and heels I was wearing on Saturday reminded me of this occasion very strongly, only this time I was imagining myself as the one with the lingerie!   I don't suppose I would ever act out this fantasy, and come to that I doubt very much if I would ever want to show anyone what I actually look like in my lingerie, but it is a thought that has now planted itself