Lines

Georgia O'Keefe: jack in the pulpit, 1930.

Georgia O'Keefe; Flowers of Fire; 1923(?)

Tonight I have a little time alone, and I’m typing this in bed, wearing a long-ish shirt over a pair of  tights w/panties underneath. My genitals are tucked and I admire the fine line and feminine curve of the “v” between my legs. It’s thrilling to look down and see the seam of the hose glide seamlessly from my waist and between my legs; the graceful curve undisturbed by any unseemly bulge.  The “tuck” has become part of an important ritual for me. Initially it was simply practice.  I noticed a slight bulge in a few of my photographs and so I began to try to correct it with tucking. But now, it ‘s something more than that-and I do it at all times, en homme, in public and not. It seems important to me somehow and I’d be disappointed if I forgot or didn’t do it for one reason or another. I don’t want to make too much of it. It’s become part of my everyday routine-so that I find myself doing it without thinking.  I like the way it looks. I love the graceful, uninhibited curve. I love those lines.

Alfred Stielgitz; Georgia O'Keefe; 1918.

Sleep Walking

Hello everyone! I know it's been awhile, and I'm sorry I've been away so long. I've just been overwhelmed with work lately. (My work has periods that are very, very busy and some periods that are just agh!no-time-to-think busy!) Gwen has been dormant all this time--and for most of that period, I deal with it. We all deal with it, don't we? I get on with life. I have jobs to do, responsibilities, commitments to keep. When I'm in a busy period, there's precious little time to think about much of anything, Gwen included. And I begin to wonder is dressing really that important to me? Could I simply let it fall by the wayside, the way cigarettes did so long ago?
But even as I ask myself those questions, I continue to shave my legs and my arms at least once or twice a week. I'm creeped out whenever I begin to see hair growth.  I grow my nails. Use moisturizer on my face and body. Under-dress whenever I can. And as time goes on, I find my inner voice periodically taking on a feminine lilt; and my eyes inadvertently focusing in on women's clothing, hair and shoes. I imagine myself in dress, and once in awhile catch myself moving with feminine gestures and grace. Occupied by the mundane, I find, when I least expect it, Gwen rises to the surface-and in that moment thoughts of her excite me --but the moment passes and she drifts back down and out of consciousness. I go about my business.
I suppose I could go on like this for some time. But eventually, she has to assert herself in the world of the senses--and I can feel her pushing against this veneer of masculinity now, like consciousness pushes against sleep. Soon, the dawn will break, the light will seep into the room, and I will wake.

(**Pushing rather hard this past 24 hours or so, I should say. Sometimes I find I lose my train of thought, along with my breath, as thoughts of dressing, and Gwen, rise to the surface. I'll be in the middle of something and suddenly, without provocation, I find I'm wishing I was wearing a skirt and heels, brushing back my long hair from my face. I have to find some time, some space. Tomorrow I meet with my "secondary" therapist for the second time. I'm looking forward to that. And today with my "regular" therapist. So there's lots of help. Writing as Gwen allows my fem-side to express itself, if not fully, at least in a conscious way--and I've found that writing is an important outlet, a crucial outlet, when I'm unable to manifest Gwen in the tangible world. For now, it's all I have. )

Calm Waters.

You may have noticed, but when I don't feel I have much to say, I don't post.
It's not that I'm not here, or that I don't check in on the blog. I check-in more than once everyday to keep up with my blog reading(can't miss Meg or Stana!) But there are times when I'm relatively quiet. This is one of those times. I 'm doing a lot of work-and my work can be very involved, so it will occupy my mind as well as my time.  And more importantly-my work is also very fulfilling, so I'm in a good place.

Everything is going along with few bumps in the road at the moment- but that's perhaps because I haven't dressed in some time now. I've under-dressed, of course, but a full Gwen session hasn't materialized. The time just hasn't been there-and I haven't wanted to force anything on my wife while she's coming to terms with Gwen and the loss of her mother. She has shown signs of acceptance-we walked by a shoe store and admired a pair of heels. She said "well, definitely not for me, but for you..." with a smile on her lips. So that's something. And she knows that in therapy I'm in a better place. Telling her-and now at least three other people, has been a HUGE relief. Talking about it is very helpful. Both my therapists feel she's gradually coming to terms with who I am.

Oh-yes, that's right. I added a second therapist-someone experienced in transgender issues-to augment my ongoing therapy, and I had my first session yesterday. It went very well. We connected.
The most exciting and concrete thing that came out of it, is that the center where my new therapist works may offer a place to dress -and maybe just hang out-from time to time. So while it's not quite set-up for that at the moment, perhaps in the near future I'll have some kind of refuge in which to dress comfortably. And others will too, so it might offer a meeting place.
That would be so wonderful! So I'm looking forward to that in the future.
For now, things are in a box. The lid is somewhat open, I can peer in to make sure everything's ok, and I left holes in it so there's air to breathe. For the time being, things are ok in there. As long as I know the contents can be let out again soon.

The Ginger Effect

I’ve been thinking about Gilligan’s Island. Doesn’t everyone spend their free time thinking about the castaways ?

“Those castaways, they never got off that island! “

When I think about Gilligan’s Island, my thoughts inevitably turn to Ginger.

Of course, right?  Well, Mary Ann was pretty darn cute too, but Ginger was just too much. I wanted Ginger and I wanted to be Ginger! Those lips, those eyes, that hair!

OF all the Ginger moments  in the series, there’s one Ginger moment that sticks in my mind- an episode in which some big, hulking henchman of some evil scientist found himself transferred into Ginger’s body.  (or was it Gilligan-I can't be sure!) 

 When the evil doer asks where his assistant is, the henchman realizes he’s been transferred to Ginger's lovely form, taps on his chest and grunts,  

"…  in here! HMMM! Feels good!” 

 Yes, that scene from Gilligan was a pivotal image for me as an adolescent. It sent shivers down my spine and took my breath away-still does! 

(oooo-can you imagine how yummy that would have been? To be Tina Louise for a day? I’d think I must have died and been sent to heaven!)

I loved that moment-and I loved it because that was what I secretly wanted, and the big henchman was declaring that it felt good to be a girl-- right there on TV. WOW!!!! Me too please! 

The humor of the scene is clearly based in the disconnect between the henchman’s deep henchman voice, and the reality of Ginger’s hyper-femininity; suggesting a split between the inner world of the person and the exterior presented to the world.  That psychic split was made even more dramatic when Ginger awoke to find herself in the rather brutish form of the henchman. Ugh!

Recently I had a moment that brought that episode to fore of my mind.

I was looking at some of the rejected pictures of my transformation at femmefever lo those many months ago.( all of two! ) In so many of the photographs the need for improvement is clear. From the simple adjustment of a wig to the more daunting need to control my waistline, I see flaw upon flaw.  But…just as clear is the potential; in these rejected photos, unflattering as some of them are, I can see the woman I could be-and so I don’t feel discouraged.  I’ll never be one of those natural born, exquisitely feminine beauties; but with some work and study, and maybe not too much- I think I could be...alright. Looking at these photos, despite all the weaknesses they reveal, is an experience I enjoy; I like the way I look and the way I might look--and that excites me.

Conversely, last week, I had the unfortunate experience of seeing a short video of myself en home-and the disconnect-- between my inner self and self-image, and the physical reality of the person I present to the world every day, was disconcerting and disappointing, to say the least. Well, frankly, it had the force of a kind of mini-psychological earthquake!

 The video revealed that no matter what I feel inside, no matter how feminine I feel or wish to be, no matter that my self-image is more woman than man-the figure seen by the world every day is masculine.  It’s a jarring shock, coming into contact with that kind of psychic split, if you will, between what is real and what is imagined. In some ways its like suddenly finding yourself in someone else’s body, not recognizing the refelction in the mirror-like Ginger waking up from a deep sleep to find herself transferred into, say,  Gilligan's body.(eegads!)

Comparing the two experiences is very revealing for me. Despite all my flaws, its clear I identify more closely with the images of myself as Gwen. I’d always thought I disliked photos of myself en homme simply because I didn’t like my looks, but it's more than that. I never been comfortable with those images because the figure in the photos isn’t the person I see myself as. In the photos of Gwen, I see me, the person I am-and want to be--and even if the photo is not one in which I’m seen at my best-it’s still somehow more acceptable and not quite as disappointing. 

In the best of all possible worlds, one day I'd wake up to find I'm Ginger. Well,frankly,  I'd be just as thrilled to be Mary Anne-but somehow I think being Ginger would be more fun! 

watching all the girls

Yesterday I was out and about, and one of the pleasures of  being out and about is looking at attractive women.  Looking at women from the perspective of a t-girl is an experience with multiple levels, isn't it?
As much as I look at women simply for the pleasure of appreciating beauty and the nascent sexual attraction, I also look at them from the perspective of a woman. I loved the skirt I saw on one young woman yesterday, and it filled me with the longing to wear it myself. The pretty dress on a shopper in the supermarket was a bright call to spring, and I admired the way it moved on her as she pushed her cart down the aisle. I appreciated her figure both as one attracted to her and as one who would like to be her. The phrase "I want her hips" takes on a two-fold meaning. In the end, the desire to inhabit her figure trumps the desire to caress her figure. Neither is very likely, but one can dream.
Of course, there's much to learn about dressing from looking at women; so many little things a woman does to make her outfit sing; the choice of a scarf, the shoes, the handbag, the earrings-the accents and accessories are so important.
But not all my observations lead to instant admiration, I have found --to my surprise--I can be just as catty as the next girl--
"...she shouldn't be wearing that, she doesn't have the figure to pull it off..."
"...her hair is all wrong for her face...."
"...she needs to lose a few pounds before she wears that...."
"...someone should tell her...."
Good lord, I had no idea I could be such a bitch!
Objectification can be dehumanizing, certainly, and there's no doubt about it's destructive effects. But then, neither can human nature be denied-- and looking at women is one of the absolute joys of being alive in this world. From every perspective. And that joy is only multiplied by being in their presence.
I'm very fortunate to have grown up surrounded by loving, caring women. They impacted me greatly, with their humanity and their compassion; their sensitivity and intelligence.  I'm just as fortunate today in that I work in an environment dominated by women. Oh sure, there's conflict, and every now and then someone proves difficult-we are human beings, after all--but the benefits of a life surrounded by women, and the feminine influence(in all of its manifestations) far surpasses whatever caveats there may be.

I am an unabashed admirer of women-in every way. And girl-watching in spring, well, it does make you glad to be alive.

mantras and magic

There's often a little mantra running through my head, just beneath the conscious self, a whisper,if you will, that runs like a tape loop as I carry out the mundane and routine business of the day... 
"...I'm a girl, I'm a girl, I'm a girl...."
 There are times when it's quiet enough that I'm not conscious of its repeating rhythm, like the "sound of bells in a bell factory" it slips into the background of a noisy day...but when a quiet moment arrives-there it is again; incessant, insistent. It's not like a ringing in the ears that becomes painful or maddening; quite the contrary-it's a comfort, like a buoy in the ocean, a place to take refuge, a lifesaver. When I hear it I feel happiness,recognition, acceptance; a sense of calm and peace.

Well, not always peace. There are times when my little mantra plays louder and takes up more space in my conscious mind-particularly those times when I've been less active as my cd-self. In those periods there's no other choice but to bring my femme self into the world in some way. For a time I might get by just by shaving my legs and underarms, growing my nails or wearing hose under my jeans. But it's not enough.

Dressing completely en femme is a transformative experience, a heightened mode of existence, and if there's a ritualistic aspect to my mantra, then dressing is the climax of that ritual-manifesting the femininity inside myself in a tangible way. Does it go too far to say there is something spiritual about it? I know I think there is something magical about it-if magic(like art) is about transformation-transformation of the mundane into something exceptional, something wonderful. When I'm en femme it's as though there's a light on within me that never shines otherwise.
It's easy to become overwhelmed by the energy and warmth of that light, to be intoxicated by it, and why not?  I have to wonder, is this what life is like if I were to be en femme everyday?
 If I were to be a woman full-time?
Most likely not, for what is a "heightened mode of existence" now, would become everyday existence then-which is its own reward, I suppose, because for those for whom it's the right choice, that inner light would be on..always.

in-between

There are some weeks when I haven't much to say. Things are quiet on both cd and relationship fronts. I wish I had some new pictures to share with you, but alas-this is one of those periods "in-between".  My wife isn't crying, and she'll make a joke or two every now and then, but we haven't talked about dressing since we had a big discussion one night three weeks ago.
One of the tasks I've taken on, in negotiating these rougher waters, is trying to make sure my significant other feels safe and secure-so that she knows I'm still the same person she's always loved and depended on...to let her know she can still depend on me. The more she feels that the earth hasn't been pulled out from under her, the more likely she'll be, given time, to accept my cd self, and my needs.
Those needs are very real. I haven't doubted any of the feelings I expressed in the aftermath of my experience at femmefever-or since coming out to my wife. I'm not about to purge or retreat into denial. I've accepted this part of myself-and, believe it or not, there's some sense of delight in that. But faced with a crisis-and coming out to my wife has indeed been a crisis--I responded I think the way we all do in emergency situations--you deal with what is in front of you and everything else takes a backseat.
In the meantime, this period in-between, I remind myself that I've taken steps forward that seemed unattainable a year ago. And Crossdresser Heaven just sent me "3 tips for surviving the time between EnFemme"-talk about timing!
"....1.Keep the Big Picture in Mind 2. Stay present 3.Affirm Yourself..." 
These are all helpful suggestions and I'm trying to do just that.  Therapy is helping with number 1. Both my work and my home life keep me in the present-and as for number 3--I'm actively planning for the next time I can dress; every now and then buying myself something I need to look my femme best. I use this list  by Stana for my shopping guide, checking off things as I go.  It's from one of my favorite blogs, Femulate--and it's my essential guidebook, my wishlist. Shopping, or just planning to shop-is fun-and it keeps me in a forward-looking frame of mind.
I take fenugreek everyday, and of course, beneath my jeans I'm often wearing hose and panties, although not at home-not for the time being. Going without is sometimes difficult, but I remind myself of who I am inside and what I'm trying to achieve and it helps me through the periods in-between.