The Little Reminders

I got a comment on my post last week from Pat who said, I wear panties and pantyhose (and sometimes bras and camis) under my male clothes about 90% of the time. I find that the garments serve as a tactile connection to my femme nature.

As you know, I can relate. When I decided to transition, I started wearing panties everyday. I think we all have little things we do that help us bend the masculine role we play.

I share a bathroom with my daughter and she isn’t the tidiest housekeeper. Often when I pass by her makeup, I put something on even though I’m on my way back to bed.

The other day, I stepped out of the shower and misted myself with her perfume. I went to work and smelled it all day. The aroma was a reminder of my transition and it made me smile.

Love Francine

It Sparkles

I’m married, and although it might not be a perfect union, I made promises. While shopping one day, I decided to purchase a cheap wedding ring. Not that I’m a raging beauty, but I want to make it clear when I go out in Francine mode. (I really don’t think it matters, but you never know, I might meet a near sighted sugar daddy).

More than marriage vows, though, the ring looks fabulous and it makes my fingers look great. I wore it the other day while writing in the car when the sun hit my hand and lit up the stone. If I didn’t know how much I paid, I’d swear it was a real brilliant cut diamond. Shafts of light flow through the prism and cast it casts colored spots everywhere. It sparkles with the brilliance of a real stone.

My life is a lot like that fake stone. Every once in a while, the light is just right and I look like the real thing, a genetic woman. I look forward to the time after counseling, when I start HRT and my body changes. Eventually, I won’t be fake anymore. I will sparkle, too.

I hope you have a wonderful day. Love Francine.

Fighting a Battle

Some of you will understand this post, others will think I’m crazy. First of all, let me say I am Francine. I am transgender, but my alter ego has other ideas. When I emerged as transgender-male to female, I gave up the old life, or so I thought. Everyday, I face the mirror with razor in hand trying to shave off the beard my alter ego has treasured for so long.

Everyday, he wins the battle. He’s afraid to face the world without the beard and I need it gone so my makeup won’t look like a joke. Damn I want it gone. If only I could get kidnapped by a demented group of laser hair removal specialists. They would remove the beard once and for all and he would have to deal with it.

There will come a time when I won’t need him anymore. Hell, I don’t need him now, but the life we temporarily live requires his presence. If only the world knew what kind of underwear I’m wearing . . .

He knows, and he tries to get me to grab a pair of shorts everyday. I’m winning the battle, though. I will be Francine and I’m going to throw a coming out party.

Does that sound crazy? I bet it does. As the subtitle of my blog says, I’m taking baby steps, even though my soul wants it over. I know it’s a gradual process, both mentally and physically. Wish my luck.

                                                             Love Francine

Working out the Kinks

Working out the Kinks

Since I decided to transition, I’ve been wearing feminine underwear everyday. It’s a baby step, but that’s what this bog is all about. Being who I am must begin somewhere. I’ve also been using the bathroom, sitting down.

The other day, however, my male prostate woke me and I needed to go. I didn’t have time to sit down and I wondered if I’d make it through SRS. As I stood there looking at my daughter’s makeup, the words to an old song came to mind,

I am strong

I am invincible

I am Woman.

check it out here
I am female and I always have been. Moreover, I always will be. There are many more steps to go in my journey, but I’ll make it. I am strong. I am invincible. I will be who I am.

I was reading blogs and social media postings the other day and I wondered about articles of clothing. What was the first piece of female clothing you owned, and how did you acquire it? I’m not talking about the laundry basket where we borrowed our mother’s clothes.

I used to make clothes from material my mother stored. I admit, I was never a good seamstress but it was all about fantasy in those days, anyway. Puberty has a way of doing that to you. Oh, if I only knew then, what I know now.

I’ll never forget the first time I purchased something. It was after years of trying to bury my feminine nature. I was married and I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I went into the store armed with a sale ad, and pretended to be buying a bra for a female someone. I pointed to the ad and said, "I need one of those."

The clerk asked about size.

"I think she needs 48."

"What is the cup size?"

Not wanting to blow my cover I pretended I didn’t know. I needed a D (I was always big), but they didn’t have one. The clerk gave me a look of consternation when I said, just give me a C.

I hated that bra. I also hated the suspicious look the clerk gave me. Still, it got easier after that.

Tell me about your first piece of clothing, traditionally worn by a member of the opposite sex, (well, opposite of your assigned gender).