Full Moons, Pheromones, and I Phones

The full moon occurs on new years eve, and I realized it was coming this morning when i woke up with such powerful femme feelings, a need to touch my swelling breasts, and imagine myself all woman. I love the idea of having a secret cycle which peaks at the full moon, and that it has a reality of its own now, though at one time I consciously cultivated the concept. Woman may not agree, but i feel it is so wonderful to have a cycle, and so I seem to have developed one though it is not so much about fertility, as my feminine sexuality, and also my meditative consciousness. My peak meditation experiences occur around the time of the full moon as well, and of course that makes sense because i chant the pancadaza, the 15 verses, which are the name of Tripura Sundari who is embodied in and rules over the full moon, which contains the 15 Nityas, + Tripura Sundari, on the sixteenth day of the waxing moon, the sixteenth day, the day of the full moon.

see http://www.astrojyoti.com/lunarphasesandthenityadevis.htm for a concise description.

And then there are hormones. Of course, i am a male who takes estrogen, so I don't experience the holy cycle of hormonal changes, rather I just am on hormones, day after day. And I of course love my hormones, and what they do to me, part of my secret self, which is both in the world and out of it. I imagine, and sometimes it seems to me that all that estrogen..well you can smell it can't you? I mean that old gentleman sitting there at the bar, or the coffee shop. Isn't there something about him? something incongruous, and yet.. something... appealing. I have always loved the smell of women, and imagine it works below consciousness, the kingdom of the olfactory. I find ..well it is a little embarassing, but I know a few people, men if you must know, who seem to respond to me, in a way that is almost inappropriate, and I don't think they are particularly gay, nor is the interaction in any way overt, but well maybe it is just me, who can say.

Well ok let me ask my I-Phone Or rather my magic eight ball app. SIGNS POINT TO YES Well part of my journey has been one into fancy, and i the analytic one, the rational one. I don't mind the eight ball's dismissal. After all, the ringtone says "I am he, as you are me." but that can't be! I am she! WITHOUT A DOUBT. That's better. The I-Phone is my Xmas present from my daughters, and well i was never an acolyte at the altar of Apple but.. I love the I-Phone! Who knew? it isn't really a phone that is the secret. It knows where you are, and where the closest pizza is at all times? The Bhagavad Gita and Rg Veda, in Sanskrit no less are there for reference whenever I am in a contemplative mood, and soon it will be telling me what birds surround me, wherever i am, and playing their sweet songs for me. All that and I have only had it a week. Should i download Dress Up and Makeup? or Girl Wars That is listed for Girls only. At any rate the possibilites are endless, of course with a phone full of fab girly apps I will probably need to explore phone security. If it falls into the wrong hands? gasp! i would be mortified.

If only the I-Phone could smell. I think we could have quite a relationship.

The Simple Life

I recently had the occasion to spend a whole weekend as a maid, specifically as a sissymaid in training. It was the first time I had spent any time as a sissy maid, and i certainly went all in, spending from friday to sunday dressed every waking moment in frilly maid outfit, obeying various Mistresses, and generally trying to make myself useful, and pretty.

This is an experience I have generally approached as a sexual fantasy. I have done a lot of perusal of the ummm literature you might say. Simultaneous orgasm is when reader and story reach climax at the same time. But being a sissy maid isn't really like that at all. I mean it is a social role rather than a sexual role for the most part, and most of the time a sissy maid is well..just a maid! "Where is my wine glass?" and off i go perhaps wiggling a bit, but off on my mission. Find Mistress's wine glass, or fill Mistress"s water glass, or lay out Mistress's clothes or make Mistress's bed. Lots of little chores, cheerfully performed, dressed in fabulous satin with the cutest accessories. I mean you are not expected to carry out these duties without apron and cap and petticoats! Well maybe i got carried away with the petticoats! wandering through narrow corridors like a full masted schooner in the backyard pool. Things tend to get knocked over. "Oh clumsy maid!" sheepish look as i turn to see what has happened, and sweep a table full of dishes onto the floor. "Oh i am so sorry Mistress!" just the slightest tingle in anticipation of perhaps being just annoying enough to earn a small demerit and a spank! But the rules of this training are clear. No one is fooled that the maids tremble in fear of over the knee discipline. No the maids tremble in fear of missing out on over the knee discipline, and the Mistress's are not here to pretend otherwise. It is not psychodrama, more just PBS drama with the staff, (that's me) doing our dainty things, while more weighty matters are discussed over table or in the drawing room.

So why did I enjoy this so? Like the song says.. Gimme the simple life! I will grant you that 20 years as a domestic servant may not be the most fulfilling life, though I don't think that there is any element there that prevents living a fully realized life. There is time to meditate in the morning before the Ladies are astir, and of course the opportunity for mindful practice is very alive when doing "women's work" And when you spend what is a few days as a maid, well it can only be described as wonderful! Not that I would admit that to the other guys at the bar watching football and spilling beer, but...well i was a very good girl all weekend, and i earned every stroke that i got on my eager and welcoming bottom. Eat your heart out honey!

Feminized

Hormones. Specifically estrogen. For almost 3 years, I have through the good offices of the global internet market slapped a little patch of pretty on my derriere weekly, and watched the wonderful transformation as my sad male breasts began to blossom and swell. Hidden treasure, unlocked by the chemical key. And what other goodies, were in the treasure chest? I tried recently to do an inventory. The breasts, the slow beard, the little bit of flesh on my scrawny buttocks, maybe a softening of the face, according to someone who has observed me throughout. But what about the mood, what about the mind, the subtleties, the sex!?

The river never slows. Aging, meditation, and estrogen, a lovely way to spend a decade or two. Where one begins, the other ends more or less unknowable. I am calm, opening up, less self involved (o.k. only kidding) , a-himsa-- non-injury, the letting go of aggression, so there is less male aggressiveness, but i can't place it particularly in feminization, though meditation, feminization, they blend together.

What about emotion? A few of the Ladies have laughed at taking hormones, talking about the emotional roller coaster, but i think that emotional roller coasters come with the cycle of hormones, and i take hormones in an a-cyclical manner, though sometimes tuned to the moon cycle, i feel the energy peak at full moon time.

But there is definitely something there that is hard to lasso, I think I look subtley different, and i smell subtly different, and these blessings work a little covert magic. I know that I have acquired an attractiveness for a couple of heterosexual males, that might just be friendliness, but feels likes it has elements of courtship, some lunch friends.

and of course my body feels and smells different to me. The mirror is right there, and we are not playing dress up, and there we are, and we are certainly not very masculine looking with our breasts, and our smoothness of limbs, and desire comes so often so clearly through the chest, the breast, the breath.

In meditation, in quiet moments, energy moves up the spine, and through the chakras. In a sensual mood, energy moves up the spine, and congregates in the chest. If you touch the nipples, then it almost hurts, the feeling that arises and descends into the loins. At that feeling is such a femme feeling, that in imagination, you are transformed, boy no more, fully feminized, without fear (or is it hope) of return.

Is it live or is it memorex? don't know, honey, don't care. It is all there, always was, uncultivated, unrecognized, undermining the tall towers of masculinity. Now She emerges. She is not me, but she includes me. Let's me travel alongside, Queen Estradiol, and i Her devotee.