tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80262578644271662332024-02-19T02:15:08.425-08:00Rags and feathers from salvation army countersbelindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-16737671557067344332017-01-03T16:56:00.000-08:002017-01-03T16:56:52.568-08:00Love and Loneliness<br />
<i>"I've looked at love from both sides now".... Joni Mitchell.</i><br />
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Down on the seawall in my town, a few blocks from where I live, the benches that look out onto the ocean have plaques attached which commemorate loved ones that have died. They benches are often decorated at this time of year. And the short commemorative messages can be touching. "In loving Memory" "Til We Meet Again" . Like the seawall that they adorn, these messages are a human attempt to hold back an Ocean. <br />
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Last Night I was thinking about that sad ocean of time where everyone I have loved will die, or I will die. or before any of that love itself dies. <br />
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And the latter, the death of love in life is I think the saddest of them all, and there are no benches to commemorate it. <br />
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And yet, love is such a crock that every year millions of people fall in love with what? and then fall out of love when they discover what was not. <br />
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I have been blessed with love, and cursed by love. <br />
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May the New Year bring you as much love as you can bear.<br />
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<br />belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-28370833447103033922016-06-14T09:34:00.000-07:002016-06-14T09:34:52.441-07:00Good News from Oregon<br />
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<i>The West is the Best. Get here and we'll do the rest. </i><br />
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Long time no blog. The state of the nation at times looks bleak, particularly after this weekend, and the usual political gobbledy gook that followed. <br />
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But Reason and Truth still hold sway in parts of America.<br />
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Behold<br />
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<a href="http://www.oregonlive.com/portland/index.ssf/2016/06/oregon_court_allows_person_to.html">http://www.oregonlive.com/portland/index.ssf/2016/06/oregon_court_allows_person_to.html</a><br />
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<br />belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-89021590300837725382015-03-31T11:14:00.000-07:002015-03-31T11:14:27.754-07:00Happy TDOV!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>"See me, Hear me, Touch me, Feel me".</i> <u>Tommy </u> <b>The Who</b><br />
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Well maybe not so much touch me or feel me, unless you ask real nice. Anyway it is the International Transgender Day of Visibility. I have disarmed all my cloaking devices. I encourage all my brothers and sisters to do the same. Those who are living under deep cover... Well I certainly understand and sympathize. May the day come when we can all be visible, in every aspect of our lives.<br />
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Love to All<br />
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Belindabelindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-33461316191155605652015-02-27T12:46:00.000-08:002015-02-27T12:46:39.546-08:00I Just Got Ma'amed in Guy Mode<br />
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<i>Is that you baby? or just a brilliant disguise?" Brilliant Disguise Bruce Springsteen</i><br />
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I got Maam-ed today on my way into the supermarket while in guy mode. For me, guy mode is jeans, sneakers, etc. Nothing remarkable about it. This happens periodically in the last few years, and is mostly I think due to jewelry, longish dyed hair, etc. the subtle and unreliable cues. I of course am always delighted by it, even as the speaker (particularly if I speak to them), becomes apologetic, if they perceive that they have made a terrible mistake in the bi-gendered world we live in. <br />
I have made a study of this, and can reliably suggest a point system by which these occasions can be scored.<br />
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If the individual who Maam's you is an elderly man, (like today), then you only get 2 points.<br />
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If the individual is a middle aged man or a middle aged or older woman, You get 3 points.<br />
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If the individual is a young man, you get 4 points<br />
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If the individual who Ma'am/s you is a young woman, you get 5 points.<br />
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If you are Ma'am-ed, while with a woman or group of women, then you must deduct 1 point.<br />
If you are Ma'am-ed, while only a partial view of your whole form is available, for example if you are addressed from outside of a car. then you must deduct 1 point. <br />
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For example a couple of weeks ago I was sitting at a bar with my daughter and her mother. A woman who had been a little boisterous and who we didn't know, greeted us upon leaving by saying "Goodnight Ladies" That is 2 points. <br />
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Another example. It was some time ago, that a young woman called me a "cunt" when she pulled up beside me, having perceived me to have made some terrible error in driving. (You need to understand that I live in New Jersey, and so behavior like this is part of the social graces.) This is 4 points. I thought to give additional points for derisive comments, but this would give New Jersey residents an unfair advantage in scoring. Anyway, if the person calling me this had been a man with a british accent, then no points would be awarded. The form of address must clearly be one that is unambiguously gendered. <br />
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An obvious rule is that you must consider yourself to be in guy mode, and not in guy-ish mode. I think those to whom this rule applies know what I mean.<br />
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The scoring system is based upon my own experience of how often I have been "miss-gendered" in the past few years. I think it represents fair scoring, but your experience may vary. <br />
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Get with your friends and begin to play. Let me know if you are scoring regularly, or have an unusual situation that you are unsure how to score. <br />
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Prizes? You wish. The game is its own reward. <br />
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And remember... Pink Lipstick disqualifies you from guy mode. Unless, it is from last night, and you just forgot about it. <br />
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<i><br /></i>belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-35395263554855016012015-02-17T19:49:00.002-08:002015-02-17T19:49:31.155-08:00Stuck in the Middle<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">“I could not become anything; neither good nor bad; neither a scoundrel nor an honest man; neither a hero nor an insect. And now I am eking out my days in my corner, taunting myself with the bitter and entirely useless consolation that an intelligent man cannot seriously become anything, that only a fool can become something.” </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3137322.Fyodor_Dostoyevsky" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;">Fyodor Dostoyevsky</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">, </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/19376" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">Notes from Underground</a></i><br />
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Can you be? Stuck in the Middle that is. <br />
I mean it used to be Boy or Girl. <br />
You are what you are,<br />
Lately it is more like Boy or Girl,<br />
Pick one. <br />
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I began this blog many years ago concerned that Belinda, a shy girl in a dark closet needed a voice. Now Belinda has more friends than Bill, and the two share this one skin. So the way I live my life is to be Belinda with Belinda's friends, and Bill with Bill's friends and family. But what does that mean? <br />
Clearly I dress differently, and I am told I even speak differently, but that is not so conscious. Bill can't un-dye Belinda's hair, and frankly he doesn't want to, because Bill is not your normal boy. Belinda isn't your normal girl either, but don't tell her, because she is sensitive enough as it is. <br />
And so I am not transitioning, and I am not de-transitioning. What probably doesn't work for society works for me. Or at least sometimes I can convince myself it does.<br />
On the other hand, I understand that the game needs sides, and there is a clock that ticks. I am not a 20 year old genderqueer, youth calling myself zhe, and gleefully declaring "Fuck the gender binary!" No I am not that by a long shot. In fact, I love the gender binary, or to be specific, I love femininity, and that implies a love of masculinity, though a slight case of gender dysphoria, more a flu than consumption, prevents me from declaring so. <br />
So what does one do, stuck in the middle. Live openly and honestly, if you can, and remember to put away the white outfits after labor day. <br />
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<br />belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-55235416245677568062014-12-27T08:24:00.001-08:002014-12-27T20:26:49.258-08:00Holiday GreetingsOK so I am admittedly a little late. <br />
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I wanted to point out a fine article on my friend Ellen's finishing school for Transwomen. <br />
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<a href="http://thebea.st/1CNqTMH">http://thebea.st/1CNqTMH</a><br />
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In the article I am described as dressing tastefully! The young reporter who did the piece is both perspicacious and gracious.<br />
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Ellens website is. <a href="http://www.lefemmefinishingschool.com/">http://www.lefemmefinishingschool.com</a>belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-67108930826738422282014-11-11T13:59:00.000-08:002014-11-11T16:41:37.193-08:00Trans and Gentle Meditation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>"Everything you do is irresistable, Everything you do is simply kissable..." </i><br />
Why Can't I Be You <br />
The Cure.<br />
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One fact of life that I have been taking to heart lately is that we learn about ourselves, in much the same way that others learn about us, or we about them. We observe their behavior, and then make inferences about their character and identity by linking what we observe to the "facts" about human behavior that I have acquired from my family, friends, education and culture. When the actual facts are missing or distorted, I am likely to misunderstand myself. I don't have a special window into my own soul.<br />
Thus when I inexplicably took an interest in my mother's underwear at the tender age of 12 or 13, I had nowhere to turn but books, since I had no other source. (I wasn't about to ask my mother, or my father. I didn't need to read a book to understand that this was not normal, and best kept secret for the immediate future. The books that I found were one's like Krafft Ebing's Psychopathia Sexualis. Such books taught me that I was a budding fetishist with little hope of a cure. Even though I was not to masturbate for many years, I accepted the designation, I had no other source of information. Now fetishist was / and for the most part still is a depressing term. Somehow your sexuality got screwed up due to some early sexual experiences. It is easy to assume that the perverse interest I took in mom's panties and slips, was both the cause and the expression of my fetishism. <br />
Today of course there is abundant information about such things. A hundred stories are shared on the internet. A teenager need never leave their bedroom to acquire more knowledge about being trans, than I acquired in my first 50 years of life. <br />
Now looking back, I can see the arc of my fate. Regarding myself as a heterosexual male with transvestite tendencies, I like most of my contemporaries pursued happiness as I understood it. I hid my vices (transvestism, masochism) and launched forth. In retrospect, there were signposts that might have given me pause. While I had a number of girlfriends that I enjoyed "making out" with, I was a virgin until I was 20, and only first masturbated when I was 17. An Irish Catholic perhaps I had no opportunities? Not quite, I once spent a night with a married woman whose husband was in Vietnam, a sort of arranged date when I was 18. I was unsuccessful in popping my cherry.<br />
I simultaneously understand now, that my secrecy regarding my femme inclinations destroyed my first marriage, and yet I can forgive myself now understanding that my story is all too common for transgender individuals of my generation. I have met individuals with similar stories by the dozens, once I found the internet, and the means of meeting my own kind. <br />
Now I can acknowledge that I was always transgender. My very physiology indicates problems with androgen in the womb. I slowly over the years changed the arc and arrow of my sexuality to feminize it.<a href="http://harmonybelle.blogspot.com/2012/03/good-vibrations-ii-freeing-girl-inside.html">see this for example</a><br />
I am thankful for learning what I have learned about myself, if envious of the young people who learn it so much younger. <br />
We all need to be humble though. Our knowledge of ourselves and the human condition is limited by the thick walls of culture, and the fog of ignorance. I still struggle with the simple distinctions. Am I transsexual? I took hormones and contemplated more dramatic steps towards transition before illness disrupted those plans. Am I a very repressed homosexual? Certainly I have dated and slept with a few men in the last few years. It is coming down to accepting that I will never be sure about what choices I might have made in a hypothetical life, or what those choices would have meant. At any rate, my children are grateful that I soldiered on. At least they say so. And I am awfully fond of them.belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-67907279327304523872014-10-26T20:33:00.002-07:002014-10-26T20:33:13.712-07:00My Digit Ratio is Very Femme<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmO907lQxTSYOe_0EPEB-m07OOLJtBWvC21pVcEfdq8-H2zyU00y0rrZN0Nfog48_oR4GomLVFoTEpk-KkETmGZZGxEEA5KDVzygSIL8i_BUnXAeYo7q1j0COvOy2XGwWmoGLc7LtxHa3s/s1600/Lady-pointing-right.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmO907lQxTSYOe_0EPEB-m07OOLJtBWvC21pVcEfdq8-H2zyU00y0rrZN0Nfog48_oR4GomLVFoTEpk-KkETmGZZGxEEA5KDVzygSIL8i_BUnXAeYo7q1j0COvOy2XGwWmoGLc7LtxHa3s/s1600/Lady-pointing-right.jpg" height="230" width="320" /></a><br />
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<i>"Tell me who are you? "</i><br />
<i>Peter Townsend</i><br />
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I was reading about the digit ratio. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Digit_ratio#Evidence_of_androgen_effect_on_digit_ratio">Wikipedia has a fairly extensive discussion</a><br />
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On average Males have been found to have lower ratios of their index finger length to their ring finger length. The average difference in these ratios is small. For males the average ratio is .947, and for females it is .965. I measured my own, and I was close to 1.0.<br />
Yes!<br />
I knew I was depraved because I was deprived, I just didn't realize I was deprived of pre-natal androgen. <br />
But seriously, I realize that this may not even indicate that in my case. The average ratios do not necessarily apply to the specifics of my genetic inheritance. ( I should measure my brother and sister's fingers, perhaps while they sleep) and I have been mucking about in this literature, the scientific basis of gender variance and finding that the answers of science do not necessarily add up to self-knowledge or peace of mind. <br />
Perhaps my deprivation based depravity, is based itself on depravity in a previous life. Perhaps my depravity however it is caused, only exists in the blindness of the culture in which i was raised. Perhaps I am willfully depraved. <br />
However my gender dysphoria and associated behavior is caused, I find that understanding certain facts about it, does not necessarily add up to solutions to my gender dilemma, which basically is Can I sit on the fence forever.... which perhaps I can, in fact I think I probably will. But fence sitting can be awful uncomfortable, and I wonder where comfort can be found. <br />
Going to Florida this week, the Everglades to birdwatch, and later in the week the Keys. In fact I expect to be on Duvall Street on Halloween. I can't really see myself not dressing for that occasion, but that probably means that I will have to pay for a checked bag. It is neither easy or cheap to be a part-time girl.<br />
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belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-72267204016391672962014-10-19T19:53:00.002-07:002014-10-19T19:54:56.153-07:00Hair: A Lament<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>"Give me down to there. Hair Shoulder-length or longer".</i> MacDermot, Rado, and Ragni.<br />
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I have had a happy seven year relationship with estrogen. Long undecided about the seriousness of my gender quirk, I have over and over been surprised by my need to acknowledge my feminine side. Hormones were perhaps the greatest surprise to my addled psyche. First trying herbal stuff and then turning to the internet for the real thing in the form of patches that you slapped on your butt, and let them do their magic. I didn't notice many emotional changes in my estrogen soaked brain, but i sure noticed changes to my estrogen soaked chest, breasts! Well golly. I guess that I was rather more serious about my femininity than I sometimes imagined.<br />
That was 2007, and within months I began dressing in public and socializing with other open mined and like minded persons as Belinda. I was still a closeted cross-dresser i suppose, but i had opened the closet and taken a nice stroll around the house. There were people who knew me as Belinda, and only knew me as Belinda. And of course with shaved legs, chest, and breasts, breasts so sensitive I was amazed, I began to believe that I was truly trans. In the years that followed, i grew to believe more in the importance of my Belinda-ness to my future happiness. When i retired, i pierced my ears and began to grow my hair long, finally coloring my old lady hair at the salon, among the other ladies old and young. In recent months I had begun to see a gender therapist, began to see a clinic to get legal hormones, and revealed my transgender proclivities to my siblings and children. All the signs of late onset transition. <br />
Then whammo! One week I was contemplating my future, and then the next I was seriously contemplating the concept of no future. After a few weeks, I had a brain operation to remove a meningioma, and took many weeks to recover, but recover I did and when I finally realized that this was not my final chapter, I once again began to think about the future, but the future wasn't like it had been. I looked into meningiomas, and realized that prudence dictated that i accept the possibility that HRT had possibly contributed to my illness and I stopped taking estrogen. When I thought my life might be very short, I felt that gender issues were not necessarily the most important issues. But things have changed now.<br />
Two months without estrogen have left me with a lot of anxiety. It has made my beard more hairy, my mind more horny, just feeling in general more mannish and the hair on my head.... <br />
Well brain surgery is not ever the best thing for your hairdo. And then I began to worry about male pattern baldness, and started noticing that perhaps my hair was indeed falling out. You can just put on a wig, right? like so many of the other girls. I must have 4 of them in the back of my closet. Each of us is unique in our history, and our relationship to gender. I have never felt that my male self was a mask or a shell, hiding my female self. Rather I felt like I had to create my feminine self, and part of that creation was physical, breasts, hair, hairless skin which remind me when I look in a mirror at any time that I am of two genders or none depending on your point of view. I can live perfectly contentedly with old lady hair dyed or not, but I fear that old man hair will make me cry.<br />
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But yesterday I think I came upon a solution. Avodart, dutasteride. The anti-androgen that is used as a treatment for hair loss. I know it is shallow to worry about what is on top of my head rather than what is in it, but I never claimed to be that deep. My poor hair may not be what it once was, but I am not going to give it up without a fight. My order is being shipped as I write this. Most transsexuals take estrogen and anti-androgens at the same time. I have decided to practice serial hormonics. belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-44560746900405020112014-10-17T14:52:00.000-07:002014-10-17T14:52:31.470-07:00Good News and Bad News<i><br /></i>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2f5fS0ZszsnmOoU0kA3TLHNat3Hq7b9l0u7ue5wMz8DH_0XQSEo6PnOSNFquYr8zCcLqpcMZ70-KrN27IN-GAuhJpJ_Gl0sMZ2w7-15A6YI4s8LgJxjvrstsHxwSCXujbUyUALO5c8tj9/s1600/image.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2f5fS0ZszsnmOoU0kA3TLHNat3Hq7b9l0u7ue5wMz8DH_0XQSEo6PnOSNFquYr8zCcLqpcMZ70-KrN27IN-GAuhJpJ_Gl0sMZ2w7-15A6YI4s8LgJxjvrstsHxwSCXujbUyUALO5c8tj9/s1600/image.jpeg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>"Enjoy yourself , Its later than you think"</i><br />
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<b style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">"Enjoy Yourself"</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> a </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Popular_music" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="Popular music">popular</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Song" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="Song">song</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> published in 1949, music</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> by </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carl_Sigman" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="Carl Sigman">Carl Sigman</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> ,</span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lyrics" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="Lyrics">lyrics</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> by </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herb_Magidson" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="Herb Magidson">Herb Magidson</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">.</span><br />
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I find myself on the other side of my brain operation undead, and as always undecided. In the months before the operation i was rushing to try to integrate my life of two genders. All of my significant others were told of Belinda. I started seeing a therapist. I checked in to the Mazzoni Center, a local LGBT clinic who I know would give me legal hormones. This was all done in an atmosphere of some foreboding.<br />
(See my pre-convulsion blog entries from a few months back.} <a href="http://harmonybelle.blogspot.com/2014/05/transitions.html">http://harmonybelle.blogspot.com/2014/05/transitions.html</a><br />
<br />
Well now all is revealed. I had a meningioma and was symptomatic for some months before it revealed itself with a convulsion, a trip to the emergency room, and a CT scan there. I remember being relieved when the ER doctor explained to me that I had a brain tumor. "Oh so I am not crazy, I am simply damaged." That was Father's day in june, and basically I was more or less convinced that it would be the end or at least some major disability that would follow this diagnosis and the subsequent operation. Well it wasn't. I feel in fact better than I have all year. The operation was a great success. <br />
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There was one kick in the head however that I have only gradually become aware of. There is a potential link between hormone use in transgender folks, and meningiomas.<br />
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<a href="http://openmindedhealth.com/2013/06/article-review-recurrence-and-progression-of-meningioma-in-male-to-female-transgender-individuals-during-exogenous-hormone-use/">http://openmindedhealth.com/2013/06/article-review-recurrence-and-progression-of-meningioma-in-male-to-female-transgender-individuals-during-exogenous-hormone-us</a><br />
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These links are even better established for cis-gender women who use hormone replacement therapy<br />
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<a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/23702884">http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/23702884</a><br />
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<br />
As I have proclaimed a number of times on the blog,<br />
<br />
<a href="http://harmonybelle.blogspot.com/2009/12/full-moons-pheromones-and-i-phones.html">http://harmonybelle.blogspot.com/2009/12/full-moons-pheromones-and-i-phones.html</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://harmonybelle.blogspot.com/2012/04/breasts-bras-and-boys.html">http://harmonybelle.blogspot.com/2012/04/breasts-bras-and-boys.html</a><br />
<br />
I have been using Climara patches for a number of years, about 7, without benefit of medical supervision. <br />
<br />
Based on what I now know, I have stopped, and that makes me very sad. As a part time girl, hormones were very very important to my identity as a t-girl. Without them I find myself somewhat at a loss. I started noticing effects right away, including increased horniness, beard, and possibly the beginnings of hair loss. Boo Hoo.<br />
<br />
So a big big question for me is. Should I start taking them again. Or is that a foolish risk?<br />
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And if I continue not to take them, what does it all mean for Belinda. The whole ordeal has been a lot tougher on Belinda than Bill. Bill has the family, and the family was so good to me and generous with their time during my illness, that I was overwhelmed. Belinda doesn't really have that consolation. I only really communicated with my friend Ellen throughout the illness, and she was as always good to me, but most of my casual friends I basically left in the dark, and one particularly close acquaintance, the woman I was providing service to in a M/S relationship. I abruptly cut it off with when she ascribed some complaints I had regarding her insufferably arrogant behavior as the actions of the brain tumor.<br />
If she is right I can only say;<br />
<br />
"Thanks brain tumor! "<br />
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One thing the illness taught me is that I should be more prudent in my choices of who I socialize with. but I still have to find a way to integrate the lives of Bill and Belinda more fully. belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-63154667921471851872014-06-22T09:10:00.003-07:002014-06-22T09:10:59.142-07:00An Unexpected Turn<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>"Ring the bells that still can ring</i><br />
<i>Forget your perfect offering</i><br />
<i>There is a crack in everything</i><br />
<i>Thats how the light gets in"</i><br />
<br />
<u>Anthem</u><br />
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Leonard Cohen.<br />
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It turns out that there is a crack in me. I need some brain repair. And not the talking off the ledge kind. It is a week since i had a focal seizure, a little like St Vitus dance, but just in my right arm. It turns out that i have a disease, A benign meningioma hovering over my left frontotemporal lobe.<br />
And the consensus is that we will need to go in with the old trephin, whiskey, and cut it out. Details are being worked out but it looks like early july for surgery. Shouldn't be too bad my surgeon says but my last surgery was a tonsillectomy about 60 years ago, and i still remember that sore throat. Anyway in another life i was a brain scientist and even trephined an animal or two. <br />
What goes around comes around and this is going to be a lot more fascinating than electrophysiology as long as i can keep my wits about me.<br />
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<br />belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-17888099763380039152014-05-29T08:24:00.001-07:002014-05-29T08:24:18.974-07:00Transitions<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoE6oHN3WUjilOEm2cGLPiEXtGyOu7drsYDr6nzXkxuynA3LCbiCnQ5urYrt-fC4KYvE8UtbYnyaU19wzUb6VW_YP25f9IF4xAYor4G96DODY8dkG3R5hEz5HcYkwTk6kuZOEchbCEEULu/s1600/luna_moth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoE6oHN3WUjilOEm2cGLPiEXtGyOu7drsYDr6nzXkxuynA3LCbiCnQ5urYrt-fC4KYvE8UtbYnyaU19wzUb6VW_YP25f9IF4xAYor4G96DODY8dkG3R5hEz5HcYkwTk6kuZOEchbCEEULu/s1600/luna_moth.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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someone's got it in for me.....Bob Dylan Idiot Wind<br />
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When a moth, the size of a bat, the Luna Moth shows up outside your cabin, Bob's immortal words ring true. Especially when the Great Crested Flycatcher, suddenly drops dead out of the sky, practically on top of you, for the sake of accuracy two, but who is counting. because as I sit here now in boy mode, someone has it in for me, and I think I know who it is.<br />
I am two weeks into therapy. I have told all my children now, and it has been very gratifying that each of them, there are four, (two who have known a while and two who i just told) expressed their fullest support " I just want you to be happy, being the clear refrain. I guess I have always considered "transitioning" to involve a fair amount of blood, (surgery) but it turns out that isnt what it is at all, and I am transitioning from the deep closet where I have spent a great deal of time, comfortable time, to the bright sunlight, You know the one where Icarus met his demise. See any resemblence between Icarus, and a certain moth?<br />
And what is that demise? How about this analogy that a friend gave for my present condition. It is the 15th round Bill and Belinda have been going at it for quite some time. but the end is near, and it will not be a decision, one of these fighters goes on, the other KOed. And everyone is rooting for Belinda, so where does that leave me?<br />
It appears that there is an assumption that two people cannot live in the same body sanely. But of course they are doing so now, or rather they live today in a state of depression, and anxiety, and I guess the assumption is that the source of that depression and anxiety is that I am two people, in one body. <br />
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Recently, i saw the following quote<br />
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Settling may masquerade as practicality, but nothing is worth the erosion of your truest self"<br />
Dr F Emilia Sam<br />
<a href="http://www.mindbodygreen.com/0-13888/5-telltale-signs-youre-settling-for-less-in-life-love.html">http://www.mindbodygreen.com/0-13888/5-telltale-signs-youre-settling-for-less-in-life-love.html</a><br />
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In the context that it was quoted, I thought that it was another jettison your old self, and get a shiny new self, that dresses better but I am exploring another option.<br />
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truest implies three, and I have only been thinking about two bill/belinda but what if there were a truest self that underlying them both? After all Eve had three faces, and I am just as screwed up as she.<br />
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Then that self would need a name.<br />
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<br />belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-63317610631891881252014-05-14T07:14:00.000-07:002014-05-14T07:14:30.395-07:00Two Faces Have I<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>will I walk with a smile on my face, knowing I live a lie lou christie Two Faces Have I</i></div>
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Well now i have done it. Broke my brain! And you know how much that can cost to repair! But what can you do? You have to have one, unless you appear on TV or DC. So it is into the shop for me.<br />
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yes indeed a checkup form the neckup, long overdue.</div>
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So I am in therapy, like a fish in water. Why do i say that? Well therapy it turns out is all about me!</div>
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Or should I say us?</div>
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Bill and Belinda</div>
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And that is the crux of the matter. It had always been about pronouns but I have been concentrating on he/she but maybe it was always me/us. Let me describe myself</div>
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Bill is antisocial, except for a layer of family ties which are tight. Belinda is social butterfly with a bunch of superficial relationships. She has few interests except shopping and makeup and hair of course. She borrows heavily from Bill in this regard, Because Bill is a bird fancier and an intellectual, though some of these interests overlap, for example, <a href="http://autof.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/butler-judith-gender-trouble-feminism-and-the-subversion-of-identity-1990.pdf">Judith Butler</a> . Tell the truth she made him read it, but she couldnt make him understand it. Bill is a fop, or whatever word you want to use for long dyed hair, and lots of jewelry. again there is a reason for it. You see they share the same body, and Belinda who occupied it later when it was in some dis-repair made some improvements the most substantial one being breasts which I have spoken about a few times on this blog most recently <a href="http://harmonybelle.blogspot.com/2012/06/forever-female.html">here</a>. (They also share the same voice, but there is a battle about that). So when I strip naked and look in a mirror who do I see?<br />
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At this point in time, that is the issue, I dont know if it will be when next I write. After all I spent 65 years, putting myself in this condition. It will probably take more than an hour of gender counselling to unravel it.<br />
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But it has become increasingly evident that something will unravel<br />
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belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-49906165498372505662014-03-31T03:29:00.000-07:002014-03-31T03:29:47.058-07:00Depraved? Deprived?<div>
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<i>We are misunderstood</i></div>
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<i>Deep down inside us there is good</i></div>
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<i>West Side Story.... Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim</i></div>
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It has been almost a year. Lots of things have changed, including my hair color. I just returned from a transgender conference, the Keystone Conference, in Harrisburg Pa. It was my first, which I went to on the advice of my hairdresser. But it really got me to thinking dark and dangerous thoughts, the enemy of complacency. <br />
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When I look in the mirror I see what you see. Most of my life that was a man, but I am not a man and therein lies a dilemma. You saw a boy then a man, so you treated me like a boy , then a man. And therein lies confusion, gender confusion. </div>
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Now these days, I look like something else. I don't think there is an accepted name for it or at least a polite one. I have small but pronounced tits on my slender frame and I have a penis surrounded by grey hair, though my hair on top of my head is long and brunette.</div>
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Now I know having just attended a transgender conference which is how to get the best information about feminization of the body, that if I had a great deal of money, I could look in the mirror and see a woman. But i am not a woman despite feminizing myself. So therein lies the dilemma. At least in a world that says<br />
<i>"There are men and there are women, and that is not a choice anyway. We already chose for you, How? Look in the mirror."</i> I say I am not a man and I am not a woman.</div>
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And of course, there are people quite a bit like me who say, we have been mis-identified. a woman living inside a shell of a man, or a man living inside the shell of a woman. And I do not wish to contradict them. Finally for the first time in human history you can choose ( if you have the cash), and if you are willing to in some sense obliterate your past. </div>
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I know in my estrogen soaked heart why so many have accepted these conditions. And I know in my estrogen soaked brain, that in revolutionary times when conditions are overthrown there is unavoidable pain and anger. </div>
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And so I say ... fie upon it, the boxes to check, the bathrooms to choose, I am not in the wrong bathroom, or the wrong body. I am in thrall to bad ideas which I acquired from you, you cis-gendered privileged smug strawman. I am depraved as you have amply pointed out in a thousand subtle ways, but now I understand. <br />
I understand because heard the voices of young transmen, young transmen who have little money hence little representation in the vendor areas in Harrisburg. I am depraved because I am deprived. It is only a question of saying what exactly I am deprived of. I can label it. Gender Identity. But what the hell is that? (to be continued results of the survey I gave in June)<br />
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belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-39624809702717803272013-06-04T08:53:00.001-07:002013-06-11T11:44:16.636-07:00Private Lives / Public Lives<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2YI2t9QtrY4k8IMJIhg4lGFv6NZs7VfkHeibY9GFpH0vWhuSRCTALN-I46EDcjStjDO6q9djiPxeD9aTXyZBROAuurkcWfw6yqOfEgWC3F_o9yFBOF0G3SUJMZD4ri8Tx01yr5UDsKi-J/s1600/trans_560x315.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2YI2t9QtrY4k8IMJIhg4lGFv6NZs7VfkHeibY9GFpH0vWhuSRCTALN-I46EDcjStjDO6q9djiPxeD9aTXyZBROAuurkcWfw6yqOfEgWC3F_o9yFBOF0G3SUJMZD4ri8Tx01yr5UDsKi-J/s320/trans_560x315.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>"If I was ur girlfriend, would you let me dress u?" Prince</i><br />
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I have for most of my life lived a dual life. Public Male / Fantasy Female. As I have given my female side more public attention, I have become more acutely aware of the issues of dual identity. In a world where we are urged to be ourselves, to be honest in how we present ourselves, dual identity can cause a lot of issues. Probably the most fundamental one is with loved ones. If you hide an identity from loved ones, then you can get your head into all sorts of twists and turns. To speak of one example in my life, the love of my mother and father. They are both dead many years, and when they were alive I wasn't one to share my gender variance with them, or practically anyone else. Now that I have a much more complete transgender identity, not just sexual fantasy, the question arises, did my Mom and Dad love Belinda? That is the type of question that can give you a headache. So ... if you please take an excedrin and take my survey.<br />
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<iframe frameborder="0" height="1024" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1dnsz0FS2I4yfVY30hzyUEzUa9nu4S40oR1u5wpCb95w/viewform?embedded=true" width="450">Loading...</iframe><br />
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<br />belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-66213877924479156602013-04-16T08:33:00.000-07:002013-04-16T08:33:02.057-07:00Bent<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Where am I to go now that I've gone too far</i> <br />
<u>When the Bullet Hits the Bone </u> Golden Earring<br />
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We all begin this life with a gender assignment provided by the adults as they take a look at your naughty parts. Then we are expected to learn our gender roles in endless rehearsals performed before a thousand directors, and a thousand heckling spectators. At the end it is expected that we provide some good breeding stock so that the merry go round can continue to function. Or leastwise that is how I see it. I have been spending the last day or so, studying curved spaces, and socializing with friends old and new. In a curved space, if you take an arrow pointing straight in one direction, and waltz it around in a circle, continuing to point it in the same direction in space, then you will find that your arrow is pointing in a new direction when you come back to where you started. In fact that is how you know that the space you are in is curved. Otherwise you might be clueless. <br />
So I had an opportunity to have a date with a boy. I arrived at his house in my most fashionable Belinda-ness, and then proceeded to turn this lovely boy into my maid, Daphne. Daphne was a perfect lady in all but her naughty parts, and she allowed me to direct her much as one might any maid, if one was a very kinky Domme. And because Daphne would do just what I said, and only what I said, I could play out my fantasy scenario where a strong woman turns a hapless sissy boy into her maid, and sex slave. The only twist in the scene is that I was the strong woman, and I was teasing the sissy boy, who was evidently a boy despite all the frillies and the mincing behaviors that I insisted upon. My last post was entitled Make Someone Happy, and it seems that I did. And as the song scribblers promised I am happy too. <br />
And I can assure you that the space around here is bent. And I wouldn't know a straight arrow if it was pointing right at me. belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-24659357469521318642013-02-25T13:55:00.000-08:002013-02-25T13:55:47.192-08:00Make Someone Happy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Fame if you win it, comes and goes in a minute.</i><br />
<i>Where's the real stuff in life to cling to</i><br />
<i>Love is the answer, Someone to love is the answer. </i><br />
<u>Make Somone Happy /</u> Styne, Comden and Greene.<br />
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Where is the real stuff in life to cling to? I have been hearing this tune for the past week in the cavern of my heart, where there are a surprising number of songs from my parent's generation. I can't argue with the first line. It's the third that is giving me some trouble. Let me paraphrase<br />
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Love if you win it, comes and goes in a minute.. where's..... You get the point. Love particularly the Love that was being promoted here, is conditional. As a veteran of more than one marriage I can certainly endorse that. It comes and it goes. Or at my age it mostly does neither, but that is another story, and if it ain't the real stuff in life to cling to...then I guess it doesn't matter at this point.<br />
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So what is the real stuff in live to cling to? Well if we are on the right track at all, then I think we can say Love that lasts. And if it really lasts, and it doesn't check every few minutes whether you turned into an asshole, then I would call that love unconditional.<br />
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In this life, I have only seen this approached not by brotherly or otherly love, but by motherly love. Even the most unsavory characters can often take comfort in the fact that their mother loves them. But it is not really something you control, Is it? I mean your mother loves you or she doesn't. Then there is the transgender angle. A number of transgender people that i have known have experienced traumatic interactions with their parents when they came out to them. This I think is more likely with their fathers than their mothers from my limited sample, and in my own case, my mother and father never knew about my gender issues during their lifetimes. Which points to the other issue with motherly love. Presumably it ends when your mother dies.<br />
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I have been of course saving the obvious answer for last. Unconditional Love... The Love of God.<br />
But not so fast. I have been recently mulling over my old Catholic roots, And I can assure you that in that tradition .... well let me sing it for you....<br />
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God's Love if you win it comes and goes in a minute... That is what the concept of mortal sin, and mortal sin's old friend damnation is all about. Is it not. <br />
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And so I am left still with the unanswered question. <br />
Where is the real stuff in life to cling to? <br />
I am not getting any younger or smarter, so there is a certain urgency to the question. <br />
Should I announce a prize for the best answer?<br />
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<br />belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-43475051266237425602013-02-20T10:23:00.001-08:002013-02-20T10:24:53.492-08:00May I See Your Gender Identification II<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/bc/TransgenreatParis2005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/bc/TransgenreatParis2005.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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There is a movement afoot to reject the gender binary. One facet of this movement is an acknowledgement that the gender binary, may be flawed. What is a male, and what is a female? This determination is needed for traditional marriage, and traditional post gold medal investigations at the Olympics. The athletic world where the perils of this common sense distinction have been well established, has taken to avoiding the issue where possible. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gender_verification_in_sports">Wikipedia: Gender_verification_in_sports</a> The problems of answering this question in the case of marriage, are discussed in a very informative blog: <a href="http://intersexroadshow.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2010-01-01T00:00:00-06:00&updated-max=2011-01-01T00:00:00-06:00&max-results=5">Intersex Roadshow</a>. Being raised catholic, I have looked at that perspective, and written in detail about it, on my new alternate blog, the one where I am pretentious and boring, (Ok, more pretentious and boring): <a href="http://addledstudent.blogspot.com/">The Other Side of That Life I've Been Living</a>. <br />
All these problems. Why not just chuck the whole thing. Recently a friend had an exchange with some young people on Fetlife. My friend was interested in creating coalition and bonding across the generations for transgender people, perceiving a split between TOG and TNG. The young people, most of whom descrribed themselves as Queer, or Gender Queer, seemed uninterested, because the older generation of transgender people in their opinion was poisoned by indoctrination in the gender binary. A clear example would be folks who described themselves as transexuals, and went into a doctors care, establishing their "femaleness" to said doctors satisfaction as per legal requirements, and then were permitted sex re-assignment to the other side of the binary. "Hooey" my young friends would have said if they know any such quaint phrases. Secondly, they didn't regard being trans and being so very important that it needed to be worked on. This was one of their identities, woman, lesbian, queer being others. They were not by their own descriptions hung up on the gender labels. <br />
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So relax Grandma....(Grandpa?) <br />
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My instincts finely honed on the generational conflicts of the 60's is to give these folks a virtual hug and a right on sister. Not that I don't believe that there will continue to be a gender binary centered around love and family etc. , but only that the ascendancy of this binary to relationships of power, dress, interests, car you drive, cigarette you smoke etc etc.. ad nauseum...is oppresive to everyone, not just those who straddle the gender fence. <br />
That being said, I am clearly a creature of a culture for which the empire of gender was big, even as it was crumbling. I femulate, and I masculinizie myself when that is required at work or with family. In that framework, I fret and fret. Am I looking weird at the mall. Am I looking weird at the family re-union. I seek help. The philosophers provide guidance. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7iQbBbMAFE">Free your mind. The rest will follow.</a>belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-69333971087517206282013-01-22T08:53:00.000-08:002013-01-22T08:53:36.195-08:00May I See Your Gender Identification Please?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0lxPR1E1hqoUNLjlERPxC2pzvgZwG0BuR-IcoscCiq8XcVt-rjmT8uhRlNpgWT6JT_29qaVN8crjK_qHpmrzalVJrngmecXvPpYyxoYOVO_NfO0O2JGzFpE7cs7XBVkVPAyNi67uB-jv/s1600/ken+doll.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0lxPR1E1hqoUNLjlERPxC2pzvgZwG0BuR-IcoscCiq8XcVt-rjmT8uhRlNpgWT6JT_29qaVN8crjK_qHpmrzalVJrngmecXvPpYyxoYOVO_NfO0O2JGzFpE7cs7XBVkVPAyNi67uB-jv/s1600/ken+doll.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i>"I'm not dumb but I can't understand why she walked like a woman, but talked like a man" </i><br />
<i>Ray Davies</i><br />
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In the last post, I spoke about my wish to walk the walk. And so in my flats, long skirted, modestly made up, pretty blouse, girly scarf, I have indeed twice recently walked the walk in the Malls. And there I have found that I can roam the stores without incident. (Or almost. A young couple saw me walking by the booth that they were selling something or other from, and asked me to pose with them for pictures. Does this mean I am eligible for my own reality show?) But generally, I can browse comfortably, and with family friendly restrooms, one of the great impediments to my peripatetic adventures is mitigated, (See <a href="http://harmonybelle.blogspot.com/2012/09/ordinary-life.html">Ordinary Life</a>) And so I can have a most pleasant outing en-femme, all by myself whenever I wish. <br />
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But these adventures, have highlighted some issues that I otherwise, have avoided. The old Belinda (the one from last month!) generally never really confronted the issue of passing or getting read with any seriousness. My social circle, of course know me. I don't sit with my legs spread and my panties showing, so I don't get corrected very often, And a number of good friends, don't even consider trying to pass, even though they crossdress, so they are usually without criticism or advice.<br />
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I however am different, or at least I think so. I would pass if I could, so I am confronted with my number one give away, my voice. In the mall, this translates into a reticence about talking. Cruel irony, because as a male no one wants to talk to me, but as a femulator, I am more approachable, and anyway, store clerks talk to you, and i feel self-conscious talking back. Bummer as we used to say in the bad old days. To a lesser extent my walk and gestures could certainly be improved, but I have worked on them.<br />
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<i>"How do you feel?</i></div>
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<i>I feel real phoney when my name is Phil</i></div>
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<i>or was that Bill."</i></div>
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<i>The Red Telephone, Arthur Lee, Love.</i></div>
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Or in my case perhaps Belinda. So the issue in a nutshell is "How can you occupy one skin with two genders, and remain sane... (or perhaps a more modest goal... remain uninstitutionalized). I have been reading a little of the writings from TNG... Trekkies note, I am not talking about Data, but rather youth.<br />
My impression is that they approach the whole thing differently, but I will leave that for my next post.<br />
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<br />belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-48339592625731262512012-12-29T10:26:00.000-08:002012-12-29T16:08:59.858-08:00Extra ordinary Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LqLWWCh2x53BcKW2efcXq9zJ9m3F-da9LMqYYvS_HDw0Ui6q7hUfd41wA-CiV-Kc0iQUPzh1YTEGIVpckYl3UsukC6tbwccZm5NolYuQAkqNGbxwMUZ9bHah17o94-LCX9VruQi2Dbi1/s1600/tumblr_m842t2GR9E1rq2kn4o1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LqLWWCh2x53BcKW2efcXq9zJ9m3F-da9LMqYYvS_HDw0Ui6q7hUfd41wA-CiV-Kc0iQUPzh1YTEGIVpckYl3UsukC6tbwccZm5NolYuQAkqNGbxwMUZ9bHah17o94-LCX9VruQi2Dbi1/s320/tumblr_m842t2GR9E1rq2kn4o1_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a> Trans Toons by Bethanyangelstar.deviantart.com.</div>
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"If I were young again I'd pay attention to that little known dimension, a taste of endless time."<br />
Chris Smither,<br />
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It was only a couple of months ago that I described my desire to experience more of the <a href="http://harmonybelle.blogspot.com/2012/09/ordinary-life.html">ordinary life</a> of those most extraordinary creatures, women. That was not followed up by weekly outings, but now i hope to do so in the new year. I find myself in retirement, more and more dressed femme or androgynous. But like an alcoholic who has been maintaining for a while with a steady diet of wine spritzers, I am feeling a powerful thirst, and dare I say need to slap on a skirt, and head to the mall and shop! Like a deranged participant observer I need to be among them in their natural habitat, the dress shops, salons and tea rooms. In the Xmas season, I did just that, and even tried on some outfits for New Year's Eve. As expected, the malls were a welcoming world of friendliness, with family friendly restrooms, and transgender friendly fitting rooms. And when made, as my unfeminine voice guaranteed everytime I opened my mouth, there was always a smile, and the occasional stare of some other shopper, whether cold or warm, was a matter of indifference to me now that i know that the ground will not come up to swallow me whole, and consign me to some tranny hell where the drag is ill fitting and the fabrics of the coarsest wool.<br />
As I am more and more out, I increasingly confront my bi-gendered existence, wondering if such an existence represents a dissociation in my personality. Like Eve (the all about one, not the one with a taste for apples), do I represent two personalities, each barely on speaking terms. My first impression was perhaps, but I need to think more on it. I don't for instance fully represent my masculine side, the one with children and even gasp grandchildren, and ex-wives, and co-workers. I speak here as Belinda, who is mostly unattached, and rather narcissistic at times. But the few who know both sides of me, don't see much difference (Haha) And perhaps they are right.<br />
So another year evaporates and despite the usual apocalyptic nonsense, another stands poised to begin. There won't be an infinite supply of them, i increasingly realize, and so they never have been more precious. I hope only for a few extraordinary adventures this year. And to become fully comfortable with my own skin, (and to moisturize it daily!) My wishes are the same for you, unless you are a boy in which case you should have the adventures, but moisturizing is optional.belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-35169120731428601562012-11-27T17:46:00.000-08:002012-11-27T17:46:53.988-08:00Superstorm<br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: #53553a; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><b>"Oh, love me tonight, for I may never see you again" </b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #53553a; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><b> Bruce Springsteen 4th of July Asbury Park</b></span><br />
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I walked the beach last week, the north end of Brigantine Island, a beach that I love <a href="http://harmonybelle.blogspot.com/2012/06/on-beach.html">literally or is that litorally</a>. My first time since Sandy and a place to fully realize her power. The storm itself passed right over my home. But being a distance from the ocean, well nestled near the back bay, I didn't see Sandy in her full fury. But this beach (and many places north of here) is where She made vacuum of our cherished illusions of permanence. The beach has changed. Twice as large at low tide , and I imagine twice as small at high tide. The line between the thick underbrush of dune grass, cockles, goldenrod, thorny vines and the beach erased, The marshes are sand covered, and the beaches are denuded. And with that, things once hidden are revealed. There is a familiar piece of the beach with some pilings which are obviously the ruins of a dock. Now as the picture above shows, other more elaborate structures long sleeping under the sand are revealed. And of course one island further north, long beach island. Structures that once stood in daylight, are shorn, and what remains buried beneath sand. <br />
In a night, what was is no more, and what was no more is. And we are surprised, aghast at the gentle billows turned savage, and so much of what we called ours, swept away by an indifferent hand. What once moved is stilled, and all is movement that we thought stillness. Still we makes our plans, and build our castles, forgetting that they will be toppled, and we will be stilled,. Everything we do, everyplace we go, everyone we love, everything we are will disappear. And so those forgotten ruins, provide a kind of solace, the forgotten will return. Either that or embrace the oblivion.<br />
Officially, I do the latter, well read in the Upanishads. And yet as it approaches, I furiously exercise body and mind, assembling bucket lists, and arranging play dates. There is little to be gained by denying what is evident from the first blink in the morning to the final blink at night. I work assiduously on the castle. Here is the room where I study sanskrit, and here is the room where I struggle to understand algebra and physics... (Has that sand just become too dry to bolster those walls?) And of course the top floor is completely given over to walk in closets, and make up tables, and perhaps a few too many mirrors. Gotta get that castle done! So I can get a nice look from a high tower at approaching seas.<br />
<br />belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-61579767086526234562012-10-21T20:35:00.000-07:002012-10-21T20:35:00.437-07:00One of the Boyz II <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj20gxqtnVgavZ-atLVRV_rgH7-GsrPEZY7VpUOnasJ1io3CuJnUD5CK_8kF1vvXVT_QtXyQMIISnvQ52XGEJ-Zuzxwo6lfkDAt82ygbC3vF9kQGzUUeCMhN59dMe24JFXrinoc62GR_dqc/s1600/flower-and-butterfly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj20gxqtnVgavZ-atLVRV_rgH7-GsrPEZY7VpUOnasJ1io3CuJnUD5CK_8kF1vvXVT_QtXyQMIISnvQ52XGEJ-Zuzxwo6lfkDAt82ygbC3vF9kQGzUUeCMhN59dMe24JFXrinoc62GR_dqc/s320/flower-and-butterfly.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It turned out that i was the only tranny who participated in the CFNM party. There was another tranny who showed up, but they were in a funk about the whole thing, showing up in a thong and finally just moping semi-clothed in another room. Sweety i feel your pain, but if you dread being naked, dont turn up at the CFNM party. Thus i was the only other transgendered participant, and I showed up in full makeup with scads of jewelry and with a special cod piece,( hair accessories carefully placed to create a panorama of butterfly sipping at flower.) it might be argued that thismwas cheating, but this <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">was definitely technically within the rules and got some nice compliments from the ladies, though one did remark that i didnt make a very good naked male Since i Looked like a girl. If you prick us do we not bleed?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">So we had 5 women 5 men and me. The women really enjoyed the event it seemed, having the naked men do various things ( foot massage, serving, forced bi) or doing things to them. ( clothes pins, rope bondage, paddling). A couple of,the men really enjoyed the event as well, at least if we gauge them by how tall their little soldiers stood. But certainly the women were jolly and chatty while the men were quiet and embarrassed.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Me? I found the public humiliation of forced bi a bit,of a turn-on, being instructed to do this and that and i didnt even know my partner who was certainly turned on. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">I had gone to this party expecting self discovery, being forced to acknowledge my own maleness. It turned out not to be so revealing, though i did put dating a boy on my bucket list. When i do, i think i will take him to a CFNM party, only this time i will have the good sense to wear a dress.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"><br /></span>belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-78884209866627145382012-10-16T19:52:00.000-07:002012-10-16T19:53:42.769-07:00One of the Boyz<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFM2tkrh2H04mQaBVVRJBL4i8pP2KW-9camel0aqknXJ6gMCsEOLTFIQgW8JgYYYB7rwWlQ35czFePdvoGFBF8zzK4a9pFRB5J_kNHt6_dq9JizLiwZPonln1DDxRq9PKovAEYRN0JKLj/s1600/male_strippers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFM2tkrh2H04mQaBVVRJBL4i8pP2KW-9camel0aqknXJ6gMCsEOLTFIQgW8JgYYYB7rwWlQ35czFePdvoGFBF8zzK4a9pFRB5J_kNHt6_dq9JizLiwZPonln1DDxRq9PKovAEYRN0JKLj/s320/male_strippers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: #676767; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;">Heaven loves ya</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #676767; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;">The clouds part for ya</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #676767; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;">Nothing stands in your way</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #676767; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;">When you're a boy</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #676767; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #676767; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;">David Bowie "Boys Keep Swinging"</span></span><br />
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I have been fortunate to find some females who I can call friend, and socialize with in girl mode. These Ladies are generally of the dominant persuasion, and I have learned a great deal about real dominant females as opposed the the Pussy with a Whip fantasy dommes, that inhabit the dark recesses of so many male minds. Some of the activities in this circle of friends is what folks in the D/S scene call play, and which the rest of the world might be prone to call foreplay. So someone has cooked up the idea to have a CFNM party. If you don't know what that is, you probably need to broaden your social circle. This is a clothed female / naked male party. I have found that this party concept has a fair appeal to some number of females in the D/S world, (and perhaps beyond!) It is not however my idea of a fun party, or at least it wasn't when I first heard of it.<br />
I shall now describe the transvestite's relationship to nudity.<br />
A beautiful girl starts tearing off her own clothes and whispers huskily. "Let's get naked" You look deeply into her eyes and say.. "What! No Way! I spent two hours getting dressed. Are you crazy bitch!"<br />
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or something to that effect. Trannies love clothes, and the fashion options are very limited when you are naked. The other consideration is that you wore all those pretty clothes to hide something that is quite apparent when you are naked.. <b>You are a man!</b><br />
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So my first inclination was to beg off this particular party, but these Ladies are my friends, and if they want a bunch of naked men to play with, then by golly, I am going to do my part!<br />
By now having imagined what might transpire a bit, I am actually a little excited by the whole prospect. I am certainly not going to butch myself up, actually quite the contrary. Make-up and Jewelry are allowed, and that includes genital jewelry. I plan to adorn that part of me that screams MAN with some very cute jewelry. That and a pair of breasts that are rather obvious when I am naked should highlight a certain gender ambiguity on my part. I only hope that I don't get shown the door for failure to meet the standard of naked male. This party is tomorrow. I will file a report in a few days when I return, unless the women find me so irresistable that they keep me in a gilded cage. If they do, I hope they permit me a few frocks, it is getting a little chilly around here.belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-517149481234164202012-09-19T18:26:00.000-07:002012-09-19T18:26:53.847-07:00Ordinary Life<br />
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 13px; white-space: pre;">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</span>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 13px; white-space: pre;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 13px; white-space: pre;"><i>Give Me the Simple Life Rube Bloom / Harry Ruby </i></span></span><br />
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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.<br />
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. <br />
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. belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8026257864427166233.post-360583232688772712012-09-05T17:20:00.001-07:002012-09-05T19:47:00.510-07:00Femmephiic? Femmephobic? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"Don't you think it needs a woman's touch to make it come alive?"<br />
Mick Jagger.. Live with Me.<br />
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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 <a href="http://feminist-armchair-regime.blogspot.com/2012/04/femmephobia-is-everywhere.html">lucid description</a> Femmephobia is the denigration of things feminine, and this is a cultural factor that is particularly though not exclusively directed at boys and men. <br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
"I want to be turned into a girl."<br />
"Oh please don't turn me into a girl!"<br />
The Domme is like... "duh.....later". <br />
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. <br />
Nonetheless.. give me a good forced femme story...and I am all a-flutter! <br />
Go figure.<br />
<br />belindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15248141369386245874noreply@blogger.com1