Ordinary Life

Some like the high road, I like the low road Free from the care and strife Sounds corny and seedy, but yes indeedy Give me the simple life

Give Me the Simple Life Rube Bloom / Harry Ruby

So much of my time being Belinda is in a social whirl;  parties, clubs, mobs of t-girls and other assorted denizens of the demimonde.   There are some exceptions.  I have a friend or two that I quietly socialize with. But all in all, Belinda is a party girl.   I actually have spent very little time out in the world, in daylight at the malls, and the town centers trying to pass as a sweet older lady, who spends minimal amounts of time frightening small children.  The reasons for this can be summarized fairly easily,  1) While I emerge from my house here with an appearance that is decidedly androgynous as often as not,  I am not in the habit of launching a Belinda outing from my house.  I am usually getting dressed at someone else's house (see mobs of t-girls and other denizens of the demimonde).  2) Bathrooms.  I generally am terrified of using the Ladies Room, and as Belinda cannot use the Men's.   3)  Most of my life the thought of going about the normal world dressed as Belinda,  would give me rabbit eyes, and jelly knees.
Reason 3 is pretty much a thing of the past for me now, and for my Saturday of Femmy Fun, 1) was taken care of by staying over a friends, after a party, and dressing as Belinda there in the morning.  The day was as simple as it was significant.   Breakfast,  Strolling in the Park,  Hair Salon,  Check into the Raven in New Hope for a room so I could spend the night there at a fabulous party.  Breakfast was uneventful eating out with friends, something I have done a million times.  The park was lovely, on the Delaware River on a perfect day.  I had a soda, I had a water...  OH I had to pee!  Off to the Ladies with nothing to protect me but a pair of Versace Sunglasses.  Easy as pie.. i entered the stall, some other girls did the same, they departed, I departed.. total stealth.  I did notice that the Ladies though unacquainted, did chat a bit at the wash basin, and that of course reminded me of my FATAL FLAW.  I don't attract much attention as I go about my girly business when I am dressed appropriately.  In this case, I was wearing a long dark skirt to hide my chigger bites. ( i live in New Jersey after all), a pink blouse, and a pink jacket with a pearl pin I got in the flea market  I looked like my grandma I imagine and everyone was smiling and friendly.  In New Hope, when I went to WAWA,  a cop parked next to me, and he smiled and said hello.  That is a first!   Oh right my FATAL FLAW,  my voice.  I have never really worked on it, and when I speak I get made.  This is what I dont want to happen in the Ladies Room as a friendly lady remarks to me about how lovely a day it is.  I have decided to work on a feminine voice, motivated by a desire not to be involved in incidents where friendly women, flee  the restrooms hastily.
Oh right I almost forget the Beauty Parlor.  This is my third trip, to have my hair worked on, but the first time I came as a girl.  Everyone was lovely at the Hair Salon.  My women do talk a bit!  And they talked with me,  about the ordinary things of ordinary life.   And I croaked back in my husky baritone.  There will be more excursions into ordinary life.  I like ordinary life.  This is the real woman's life.  I get all melty just thinking about it, and I am only about a full octave away from it.

Femmephiic? Femmephobic?

"Don't you think it needs a woman's touch to make it come alive?"
Mick Jagger.. Live with Me.

I have lately been thinking about forced feminization fantasies.   These fantasies have always been powerful erotic triggers for me.  In particular before I really wore girls stuff while masturbating, I fantasized about being forced to wear girls stuff.  Recently I have begun to think about the forced feminization fantasy as a dynamic that grows out of two forces.  The first is Femmephilia, a love and desire for things femme, where femme means that which is traditionally associated with women, female interests.  The second force is Femmephobia.  This is a term I found recently on the internet.  Here is a lucid description   Femmephobia is the denigration of things feminine, and this is a cultural factor that is particularly though not exclusively directed at boys and men.
In the typical forced femme fantasy, a boy or a man is feminized by a woman   This feminization is introduced in a context in which punishment occurs  (petticoat punishment), or it is introduced in order to have power over the male.   In either case, the experience is both humiliating and erotic for the male victim.  The elements of femmephobia and femmephilia are intermixed in these stories.   The male is often weak, or naive.  In this way he doesn't have the power to resist his feminization, and in his heart frequently there is a question does he want to, because frequently these actions forced on him are his own secret femmephilic desires.  In fact his desires are so femmephilic that they frequently involve the most uncomfortable or childish or slutty feminine attire.  The sissy is secretly more femmephilic than the average woman, while sharing the femmephobia of other males, which is reflected in his feelings of humiliation, and his need to be "forced" to dress as a girl.
If we were prone to psychodynamic explanations of  fantasies, then these fantasies are a begging to be analyzed.  Does the powerful female represent one's own Id , while the weak and malleable victim represents the insufficiency of ego, which is trapped by the cathexis of a satin corset?   Probably,  but who can afford psychoanalysis.    Instead I am left with my own two cents.  However these fantasies arise, they take on a life of their own.  In my case, I have had numerous interactions with real dominant women, and i know perfectly well that these interactions have not and will not in the future unfold like forced feminization fantasies.
  "I want to be turned into a girl."
"Oh please don't turn me into a girl!"
The Domme is like... "duh.....later".
 So rationally I know these fantasies don't really function in the real world.  I have sort of outgrown them fully realizing that the only force which may be involved in my own feminization is that force you would need to take this pencil skirt from my cold dead hands.
Nonetheless.. give me a good forced femme story...and I am all a-flutter!
Go figure.