Breasts, Bras and Boys

"Mess with the Goods... You Gotta Pay".

 Tattoed Love Boys  

Chrissie Hynde.

( Photo: Ms. Belinda Lee,  Actress,  1935-1961)

Stage 1:  Bra’s … who wears bras?  Bras are for girls.

At first it was the panties.  Always the panties.  It was that way for years.  I only have one older memory of bras.  I was at my Aunt’s house.  I was in her bedroom fully clothed sitting in front of her makeup table.  My Aunt was better endowed than my mother, and I remember sort of half wearing one of her bras.  Suddenly she was right there.   I don’t remember exactly what was said.. It sort of went like this:
1) She knew I was trying on one of her bras,
 2)  I was embarrassed,
 3) We never spoke of it, and life went on.

 I was in my mid-teens.

Even when I began to expand my interests,   nighties,  full slips,  lingerie in general… I never made too much of bras.  My main interest in them at that time was what they were concealing on the girls I knew.

Stage 2:  Filling a bra with nylons for that girlish figure.

So  bras were only a slight interest, when I began  dressing fully, or at least wearing skirts and blouses, and that didn’t really happen until I was married, which is my mid twenties, but even then.. my wife’s bras didn’t fit,  I mostly wore found items, and bras weren't a big part of it. 

So it was really after my first marriage ended that I began to wear bras at  dress up, I had purchased a few at   Lee's Mardi Gras.  I was in my early thirties.. Iwas slowly becoming interested in my own breasts. 

Stage 3:  I wish I had breasts! 

And things  developed from there.   I was in my fifties when I really began to embrace the bra, especially after my second marriage collapsed.  Then I began to acquire bras that fit better,  Underwire bras, that gave me a little extra lift.  The perfect bra?  satin, underwire to give my pathetic titties a little lift, without padding, so that anything brushing over my nipples.. (like my fingers!) felt great.  I began to wear them to bed!  I just felt totally butch if my chest wasn't encased in a sweet satin bra.

That went on for some time,

Stage 4:  I have breasts! And I love my bras. 

It was only in the past five years  that I began to work in earnest to try to fill those satin bra cups.  Herbal concoctions, and finally my friend estrogen.  

Wait some monthes.. some years, and voila… small but respectable titties.. and bras always with my outfits.
No more bras to bed.  Wearing them during the day and evening like a respectable woman, and really nothing.. nothing made me feel more like a woman than a bra.  

Stage 5:  Flashing the Goods

So this week I was invited to a party.  Not normally my kind of party is was a house party for T-girls and men.  Not a XX chromosome pair to be found anywhere.   I have been interested for some time in trying out some flirtatious fun with men.  They have been notably absent from my playlist, if you don't count sissy boys.  

So... I just thought..  corset, sheer silk blouse.. bra?  well no.. how about no bra.  My assets just visible.. my slightly enlarged nipples.. showing through my sheer printed blouse.   That might interest a man.

So I learned a lesson every girl is knows by the time she is 20.  You want to get a boy's attention,  flash him a little decolletage.   It's really true... simple creatures... very simple creatures.. who knew?

At any rate, I know now what it is to be oogled, and I know how forward men can be.   The party was just getting started when he took me into another room with him, and he told me that he had noticed how nice my breasts looked... He wanted a closer look... and well he wanted more... but this isn't that kind of blog.. and I am not that kind of girl.   Well anyway .. this isn't that kind of blog

So my romance with bras has come full circle, and I have learned the virtues of a sheer silk blouse.

Androgyne About Town.

"Ah here's the androgyne! Helen cried as I entered the room".
 Miss High Heels. 1931, privately published, Author unknown.

 Androgyne. A word that has always had a certain fascination since I first encountered it in the quote above. It has been a long slow awakening for me. Fetishist? Transvestite? Transsexual? Should I  finally reject them all and embrace the taunt that Helen had tossed at Denise,  "Androgyne".

Andros and Gynos  , male and female united in a single individual.  In the tantric traditions, the divine androgyne is an ideal form

Called ArdhanarIshvara  (ardha-nari-ishvara;  half - woman - god), the androgynous divinity is worshipped as a union beyond the oppositions of male and female.   Alas in Hindu culture, those who come closest to a physical manifestation of this synthesis, the Hijra, or third gender, MtF transgendered individuals  are not necessarily treated so well.  (Cancel the flight to Delhi)   Prostitution being a common profession, due in part to the usual discrimination against TG individuals one sees in the largely traditional society.

I frequently these days at home dress androgynously.  I wear bra and panties, perhaps woman's slacks, camisole with my modest titties prominent, open shirt over it  very light makeup, if any.  Some rings, necklace,  boy earrings.   My hair is in a pony tail, with a femme flourish, a nice hair attachment or teased out bangs.  femme socks.  Out I dress boy or girl.  Ok  maybe slightly swishy boy, or girl.

This is all on my mind, because I plan to go in a couple of days to a "munch" which I was invited to soemtime ago by a charming woman who recommended the group to me.  A munch is basically a meeting in a diner or something like that where kinky people can come and meet each other in an informal setting.  ( sort of like the school dance for adults)  The munch is in a restaurant during regular business hours, so they request that people not look too outlandish.   She told me that I passed as a woman, so I could attend the munch as one.  (Did I mention that she was utterly charming if not perhaps completely truthful)  But I don't really intend to do that since I have never been to this place, and I am going by myself.
So I thought I would consciously go androgynously, dressing sort of as I dress at home,  effeminate boy/girl.  

I have never really consciously done this, so I am a little nervous,  Its a boy/girl world,  If  in a dress, they call you Maam, and in jeans they call you Sir.   Androgyne?  I guess they will just say Hey You.

And there is one big problem that the androgyne faces, that the ardhanarIshvara never had to confront,

Bathrooms.    There are Boys & Girls rooms ( or perhaps Buoys and Gulls...i live by the shore).  And while there is occasionally the blessed unisex w.c.   There are never specific accommodations for the androgyne, which is to say, I need to choose, and to choose the Lady's room.. well that it only an option for me in full femme mode, and usually I am in a place that I know very well.  I hate  loud noises... screams, police sirens.

So there you have it except for my jacket and my sneakers, I won't likely be wearing a stitch of men's clothing,..... tits, hairdo, jewels .... not fabulous... but certainly not the repellant drab.

 Still  (sigh!!)  it must be the Gents......

Oh the life of the androgyne is filled with humiliations.... but not quite what Denise nee Dennis imagined.