Feminized

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boo!

Busy.. busy.. busy.. no time to journal as they say currently. Tons of work and the halloween shopping season to boot. I am the kind of nervous grrll that doesn't just flaunt it day and night. But this halloween, ..an example.. i had a long discussion of shoes and makeup with the charming young woman at the Payless and she helped me try on a bunch.. for my halloween costume. Well I bought three pairs. Everyday is halloween after all.

This halloween I go as Rose a drag queen of the 80's who i was good friends with for a bit in my life. I don't know where Miss Rose is today, though I suppose I could try to look up some of her old film projects, but i imagine that she is no longer with us, being out there wherever there is at a time when it was perhaps better to be in here. But we all have our time and our place, and we all end up shadows, and the more I think about it, I can't imagine that we could be anything more. So insubstantial arising in a moment, coming to know, ascending, filled with self and desires for what seems to have only been a summer, and then slowly slowly ceasing, and that is if we are lucky. But maybe that's just me. We are something more I imagine, it is just that we are something more than we. So time is short, and make-up to look like Rose well that is an effort involving heavy equipment, and ample time. So farewell and happy Halloween to all!

Not Very Cherry

After all the things that were inserted in slot A, who knew that that penii could go there too. And if it is just "toys" and not "boys" does that mean something different? Has something been gained or lost by it. coaxing patient and feminine boy into doing it? It is a bucket list item? But the boy didn't consummate so I think there is still more to be learned.

Hark. I surrendered my not very cherry to a sweet sissy after a couple of mojito's that I fashioned, and a nice dinner that i cooked wearing a vintage apron no less! I mean you have to have the apron, the accessories! He came as a boy, so that was even more exciting for me at this stage, to dress up and make a nice little meal for the boy who was coming over to stay the night, and doing it in vintage apron! That makes me a fetishist i imagine, thinking back to the apron as well as the boy. but i don't care for boys as I may have said. That is my story and I am sticking with it. No worries though because the boy was kind enough to transform into a girl. This story continues I imagine.

I saw that Lee Brewster was acknowledged on the Gender Variance website.

http://zagria.blogspot.com/ . That makes me very happy. More on the moi history. Should I in the interest of full disclosure give a listing of all the things that were inserted in slot A. Well I won't! and that is that! but I will say.. i mean well fruit of course. You have to know if you like that sort of thing, I never thought i did too much. One thing was is not to easy to do without letting your junk all hang out, and you know how this Lady feels about that if you have been reading, so for me.. anal stimulation has always been a sometime thing, at some point a duty.

But I need to think more. Even though I no longer well i don't care so much about orgasms and other such boyish nonsense, I do enjoy the snuggles and the huggles, and i love it when they help me achieve those imaginary orgasms. See previous post

Miss High Heels at the Mardi Gras

Lee Brewster if you don't recognize her. When I think of the unliberated experiences in the tranny journey, the long road. Imagine all the years, with absolute secrecy, purloining Mom's panties, and finally finding panties or a dirty old frock in the ultimate thrift store, the trash! It is a lonely life when you are sneaking back under cover of darkness to retrieve a treasure seen earlier, a pair of discarded panties. and then .. well into adulthood, well into your 20's, after just a couple of seven and seven's at the port authority bowling alley. (I wonder if those lanes still exist) to walk over to 10 th avenue, up a few stairs.. nervous enough to tremble, and to enter.. Paradise! Lee's queendom, Lee's Mardi Gras.. I still remember the first time. greeted by the kindly proprietor an older kindly fellow, somewhat effeminate, who must have seen a thousand like me. and coming over as i could barely look at the treasures. coming over and talking with me about waist cinchers! The first moments in my life talking to another human being about my secret desires, and he fitted me for one that day, and i bought ..that's right bought! my first pair of purchsed panties, and didn't my first bra, my first shoes, and my first wig follow soon enough. Thank you Lee Brewster! for getting me started.. a little tardy but making up for it with enthusiasm.

Lee Brewster is dead now, and has been for almost a decade. His "transvestite boutique" full of drag, and wicked stories was one of my favorite places to visit. I never evolved enough to go there enfemme while he lived, and now the store doesn't exist, and perhaps doesn't need to exist the way it once did. It once was a wonderland..dare i say a fairyland! I bought Miss High Heels and other classic works in sleazy bookstores a few blocks away, and they told me that my shameful fantasies were not singular. But Lee's showed me the joy behind it. I still have a few pieces from Lee's, but that old Lady Marlene waist cincher... well it did its magic.. and then burst asunder some time later. Lee was always an optimist.

The Hanged Man

Doomed. It is not an idea we embrace too much, but if you saw the Bills / Patriots game, and you have been a Buffalo Bills fan far too long to shrug it off, then you know what I mean.
Doomed When it is fate and it is fucked.
But it isn't justice because you don't have any particular idea that hubris was at work. It might be karma of course, but since it is collective, and the collective karma is visited upon a group of individuals who just got there, then justice is a stretch.
Doomed, and the Bills most certainly are, then so it is, but the Bills are nothing but a collection of innocents who receive their beating, and then move on.
Doomed And isn't all human effort essentially the same.
Doomed The wall against which the head is beaten, the savage god, who declares that as it has always been, the strong and the ruthless will thrive.

If this keeps up, I am going to give up these boyish tendencies for good.

Passing

The picture. Well that pretty girl is not me honey. That is what you get when you type in crossdressed with sunglasses into Google Images. And what I like about that girl and admire greatly is that She is passing honey, and I salute her. I sort of completed the set this weekend. Two years ago deeply closeted, I went out yesterday to a fair with a couple of gg's and a boy and a couple of girlz like myself, and I was crossdressed with sunglasses, and every once in a while, I was passing. With people so very tolerant today, how do I know?

This is what happened. I was at the ticket booth, with my money and giving it to the older lady, ( no not older than me! older than you!) She was counting out my change when I told the person next to me I would see them inside. I was looking right at her, when she showed the greatest surprise and burst into the most genuine laughter. I couldn't help but laugh myself, as she said.. enjoy the show.. still chuckling. Got to work on that voice of mine.

It did get me all thinking about the road travelled, the road still to travel, thirsty boots and all.

Travelling yesterday with my small group, all with their very interesting stories. army vets, and dominatrices, and shy boys with secret lives. I thought of the hidden stories of the uncelebrated, misunderstood. I was planning to start with mine, in the next entry. I wanted to periodically add the stories of others. Those who choose to remain anonymous, but who would like their story told. I would like those who are well along in their story.. The over 40 set, and who are in one way or another, from the transgender world, and who can relate to me the facts of their life in brief. I would only have one limitation. If you send the facts to my gmail account, I will ghost write that story as a blog entry. If it interests you, drop me a line. Otherwise, please anwer my poll questions. I would like to know who YOU are! You know who I am talking to.

What is with Drag?

I have had occasion recently to attend drag shows in Savannah and to go to LIPS INC NYC . I started thinking about drag when I run into girls who are dressed to the nines, at events where i in the name of a "natural" look, i look like something the cat dragged in circa 1971. So for some of these venues, I decided I needed a more "arch" look. I acquired breast forms and a corset, did the proper research in Savannah.. Thank you Club One! The secret of drag.. psst dont tell anyone but it is two words.. big earrings! So I got some big earrings too, and even dug my big hair out of storage. With a little help from my friends, I was ready willing and able to look fabulous, and i descended upon LIPS, with a few other more subdued lookers. What I saw there has me puzzled still, but in honor of Woodstock... let's have a flashback. It is 1983, and there is drag every weekend at the Flamingo in the West Village a few blocks from the current locale of LIPS inc. The entertainers are dressed in ballgowns and fabulous, the audience is men. The fabulous queens are generally willing to go out back with someone or home with someone for a little monetary consideration. The men.. well some are like me... looking to meet these fabulous creatures to be around them to absorb their aura, to become like them. I even dated one.. no really dated! and the other men were there because they wanted girls who had something special and who would do special things.. It was a way to end up having oral sex and not be gay is how i figured it.

So we show up at LIPS expecting a more modern version of same.. What a surprise to be the only person umm mature, formerly a heterosexual male, in drag! except for the performers, and wait staff who seemed to look at us..like ... "excuse me are you queens lost?!" Only in time honey. The whole audience was women , young women having batchelorette parties, and having birthday parties, and looking for a little innocent raunch with some fabulously accessorized males they wouldn't be expected to take calls from the next night.

What is the common denominator to these social changes. the Drag Queen doesn't pretend to be a woman, or aspire to be a woman too much. the Drag Queen is a proud to be an absurdly effeminate man, and the closeted men were, and the thrill seeking young women are looking for a man who isn't a man.

I have been flirting with the drag look in order to be more a woman.. by emulating a woman's shape, and taking the extra trouble to create a look. but at the heart of drag is a man in disguise, rather than a man transformed. At any rate that is my take, but don't ask me to give up my big earrings honey, I am wearing those until my ear lobes hand down to my shoulders.