Femulation and Other Matters: Second Edition

By Velma

Editor’s Note: There has been some confusion recently when a few readers thought that a guest post was written by me, not a guest writer. So I am including this note here to inform my readers that this post was written by a guest writer (Velma), not me – Stana

Friday, December 19, 2019

While my wife and I are having a totally awful Friday lunch in a small town in North Carolina, my cell rings. I have been dreading this call for days now. It is my urologist calling.

“Mr, ‘Smith,’ this is your urologist. Sorry to tell you the results from your biopsy is that you have prostate cancer – and it is a particularly virulent strain.”

Yeah, give a patient bad news on a Friday just before the doctor goes on extended holiday vacation. Gives you much more time to worry and stew about everything before making medical decisions.

Now this crappy tasting meal turns into ashes inside my mouth. I cannot eat another bite. Now, I have to tell my wife. I pay the check for a lousy, inedible meal, wanting to just leave without confronting the cook/proprietor on the lack of quality. Hell, given the state of the place and the meal, the lady needs the money more than I do.

The ride back to civilization is quiet, but my mind is abuzz. Is this how I die? Soon? What do I do with my clothes? (My wardrobe is at my own house, as my wife and I got married late in life, and she also has her own place and then, we have a place.) Who finds my ‘stuff’ after I am dead? Who gets to clean up my ‘stuff’? I feel embarrassed for the future me.

The following weeks call for a CT scan and a bone scan. Both results are good – nothing has spread beyond the prostate.

A not so leisurely two weeks pass, complete with plenty of worry. Now comes the consultation on another Friday.

Friday, January 10, 2020

The doctor presents the results of the biopsy and genetic analysis and discusses the treatment options. The choices are two surgeries and two radiation treatments. None are particularly pretty or easy or quick. I will spare you the gory details.

The drive back home about 75 miles and I am mad at myself over this whole matter. One never knows what is going to catch up to you. I stop at our favorite sushi carryout for the nights dinner. We have sushi and Chardonnay and later, after the meal, talk.

I tell my wife of the situation as well as the options. Most of the options have almost the same statistical ‘risk of re-occurrence’ and premature unnatural death.

In my self-anger and frustration, along with the alcohol, I blurt out the truth.

If I am gonna die in the next 5 or 10 years, then I am damn well gonna be happy.

I am surprised that you never have questioned why I have such good taste in picking out dresses for you while I am shopping at the Value Village. You had never questioned as to why a man would be going through the dress section in a thrift store. Well, the answer is that I was also shopping for dresses for myself!

You never questioned why we are getting Paula Young wig catalogs addressed to me! The fact is I am a crossdresser! I got my start in college when a couple of girlfriends would dress me up for Halloween. They tried to humiliate me, but I loved it! Hell, I own more bras than you do. I own dresses and wigs and bras and falsies and shoes and makeup and the rest of the whole kit and it is all stored at my house.

Our friend Joyce at the thrift store sold me one of my first wigs years ago. Joyce has seen me fully dressed and she was amazed at my looks and fashion skills. I further explained, once a month on the second Saturday of the month, I used to go to the union hall retirees meetings, but now I attend a support group for crossdressers, fully clothed as a woman.

When I return home from one of those meetings, I am calm and sensitive and emotionally centered. I feel you have somehow noticed. The crossdresser community call this calm and happiness “the pink fog.”

The honest truth is that if I was 40 years younger, I would perhaps live my life as a woman. I could never have done this during the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s, etc. “They” would have thrown a net over me and dropped me off in a padded cell! But now if I am to be checking out early, as I am retired, away from corporate America, I am going to do as I damn well please.

Tomorrow is Saturday’s crossdresser support group meeting and I am going to my house and get dressed and attend the meeting. And if you agree, I will return fully dressed as a woman.

No! I don’t want to see you dressed like that!

The next morning, (Saturday) things are chilly to say the least. My wife says she is going to call her sister. I recommend she call Joyce (from the thrift store) instead as she is nearby. And my wife’s sister once looked quite upset as she she groused over dinner “that she got waited on by a transvestite at the local Ulta store. I thought to myself, “Hell, sister in-law, that ain’t nothing!”

On my way to the support group, I stop by Joyce’s store to check in on what is going on. Fortunately, my wife does call Joyce. I do relate this incident to my group. One member asks how my wife is at this time. “Chilly,” I reply.

My wife called Joyce and she talked her down from doing anything rash,and reminded her that her husband loves her and she should rely on that fact. Apparently, through the last night's Chardonnay, my wife had mistakenly remembered my comment about “living as a woman 40 years hence” to doing so now at this time. Joyce apparently clarified that point to her. The following week started quietly as this matter was unspoken.

Five days later, Wednesday morning, something changed. We are both retired and I generally sleep in late and was still in bed and my wife woke me with the news that she changed her mind and the thought of me dressed up was hot. That I could dress up in any clothing I decide to choose!

She asked me if I had any of my woman’s clothes in the house and I replied, “No.”

Then, she asked if any of her clothes would fit me, and I said, “No, that would not work.” She is size 8, I am size 18/20. I explained that the next day I could drive to my house 45 miles away and I would comply with her wishes.

Later that day, I ordered flowers for Joyce and enclosed a card that read, “Thank you for saving my marriage.”

On Saturday, I drove to my house and got dressed en femme. I wanted this outfit to really look good! I dressed in a two-piece cream and gold colored knee-length knit suit, bright blonde wig and my prescription lens “gurl” glasses, full makeup, hose, black kitten heels, and black, double-breasted knee-length leather coat. The full kit. I also packed a bag with another two outfits and my full makeup/earring bag.

Upon arrival to our little town, I drop by Joyce’s store just before closing time. She approved of the outfit and my look. On the way home, I stopped at our favorite sushi place and picked up my carryout order. The staff had no clue that I was their regular customer.

I arrived at our home right after sunset. My wife was seated in the living room watching the tube as I enter the room and ask, “What ya think?”

My looks positively stunned her. She said I looked great! Now, she realized that my skills in choosing woman’s clothing also covered my own. The cat, however, takes one look at the strange lady and runs out of the room. I bribe the cat back into friendship with the insides of a tuna roll. The cat now knows the strange lady’is just me. Dinner this time went much smoother. My wife is quite happy over me being dressed pretty.

The next day, Sunday, I recommended that we go out for lunch, while I was dressed. Wife excitably agreed.

I had packed another outfit, this time the outfit was the one I described in the Monday, January 27, 2020 Femulate. I deliberately omitted the fact in that article that my wife was in the truck except I did hint at that fact in one of Velmas’ replies to a comment. After fueling at Speedway, we ended up at the local Zaxbys for lunch. My wife is totally relaxed and confident with the new me, as if I was her old girlfriend.

I am writing this letter, on Thursday, five days later, at our home. My wife and I are both dressed in black knit sweater dresses.We just finished visiting our favorite sushi place and my wife is as happy as I am. She loves me to hug her, close and tight, girl-to-gurl style. Yum!

There are times when I wear my breast forms 24 hours a day for days at a time. I feel not whole and unbalanced when I am not wearing them. My wife loves the breast forms and now calls me “Her lesbian husband!” I am good with this!

We now go shopping for makeup, retail clothing (wife took me to buy panties!). I help her do her makeup. She loves that! In a joking manner, I mention that maybe I need a job at Ulta, just to upset my sister in-law. Things are going better than I have ever expected.

As for the disease, I visited a new urologist this week on the advice of a member in our CD/TG support group as this doctor. was TG-friendly. I visited the doctor and presented myself dressed as female and mentioned that I was referred by one of their patients. I was treated by the staff and the doctor with respect and he spent an entire hour discussing possible treatment options, along with any conflicts with any possible gender reassignment possibilities (there are many). I fired the former urologist.

Where did the depression go?

I am 66-years-old. I have had symptoms of depression since before age 6. In the bad old days of the 50’s and 60’s, psychiatrists claimed that children did not get depression, (yeah, sure). You were simply blamed as having bad character or no will power.

My major goal in life was to find a way to not feel like a piece of xxxx. That goal was never met. Apparently, a major component of my lifelong depression was a gender dysphoria. The only real issue is that it took 66 years to discover the existence, as well as a cure for it.

For the first time in a long time, my brain is a non-depressed happy. My wife is happy with me as well as my femulation.

Today, my wife and I go have an early dinner, both dressed in black dresses and heels and despite this being a small conservative town in North Carolina, we have received no negative waves. Afterward, we go to Aldi for a few groceries – the cashier, a regular acquaintance, has not seen me en femme, but she approves of what she sees!

In three days, I will be cooking Valentine's dinner of rack of lamb grilled over mesquite wood, served with a meat glace over a bed of wild rice, along with a Cabernet Sauvignon,with multiple desserts of chocolate.

I instinctively smile and laugh, never felt better or more free, in spite of the damned cancer.

Wearing NewYork & Company

Alex Newell femulating in a 2009 episode of television’s Glee

More Feminine

Ever notice that in photos of femulators with their spouses, the femulator often dresses more "feminine" than the spouse?

Such is the case in my life.

In the last 10 years, I probably added 50 dresses to my wardrobe. In that same time period, my wife added two dresses to hers.

I own scores of high heels. My wife owns none.

I use lots of makeup. My wife uses none.

I wear lots of shapewear. My wife wears a bra.

Etcetera.

Source: Intermix

Linda Chang

Peggy Sue Got Married

Peggy Sue is a Southern girl and a ham radio operator like myself and we regularly exchange e-mails about being girls and being hams. She wrote the following in a recent e-mail.

I pray your personal situation is not overwhelming you. My wife is balancing numerous medical issues, but we are managing to keep everything under control. I have combined some of my crossdressing days with taking her to her medical appointments. Although her doctors have known her for years, they never knew I was a crossdresser.

I wrote back.

How did your wife's doctor react to your revelation?

Peggy Sue replied.

There was very little reaction from my wife's doctors. However, the female staff was very approving and very vocal in their approval, even to the point of asking questions as to how I do makeup, purchase clothes, what does Lucy (my wife) think of it, how often to I femulate, etc.

The doctor reaction reminded me of my own physician the first time he saw my painted toes and shaved chest, which was very little reaction, other than yeah, he commented his understanding was that most crossdressers are married heterosexual men.

Wearing Ann Taylor

The evening gown competition in the 1968 documentary The Queen.

Who's Better Looking?

In response to my invitation to Ask Me Anything, B wrote, "Does your wife ever think that you are better-looking than her when you are en femme because you do scrub up amazingly well?!"

My will wife criticize how I look en femme usually commenting on my hemline (too short), my hair color (too blonde) or my size (too big to pass). However, she has never mentioned that I am better-looking than her.

She is a pretty woman, however, our sense of fashion could not be more different. She usually wears jeans and a plain top with no makeup. The last time she wore high heels was when she marched down the aisle.

Dresses and heels are what I wear and I am always fully made-up. So, it is not fair to compare us because we dress so differently. On the other hand, I think I compare favorably with women who dress like I do.

Wearing New York & Company (Source: New York & Company)

Karl Cruz, homecoming queen at Sweetwater Union High School in National City, California

Man of the House

Awhile back, I promoted a series of posts called "Ask Me Anything," in which I answered questions submitted by readers of the blog. Although I am always willing to answer readers' questions, I have not promoted that fact lately, so consider this post an invitation to ask me anything again.

To renew my invitation, I am rerunning the following Ask Me Anything questions about my relationship with my wife.

Emily: Are you the husband at home in a conventional role?

Yes, I am the “conventional” man of the house.

Dani: Assuming you and your wife still make love together, do you do it as a man and a woman? Or as two women?

Physically, as a man and a woman. Mentally, as a woman in my mind. I have no idea what is going on in my wife's mind.

Pat: Does your wife completely accept you as a femulator?

Rhonda: How much does your spouse accept Stana in her life?  In other words, does she go out with Stana, buy Stana gender appropriate gifts and do you (as Stana) and she socialize with other TG/CDs?

My wife accepts the fact that I am a femulator, but she does not embrace it completely. She does not go out with Stana, does not buy Stana gender-appropriate gifts and does not socialize with my trans acquaintances.

However, if she sees something trans-related in the newspaper or on television that she thinks might be of interest, she will call my attention to it. Also, whenever we go shopping, she encourages me to shop for Stana, too.

Rhonda: As a follow-on question, have you and she agreed on limits to Stana's activities? If so, please share.

We have not agreed to limits. In fact, we have never discussed limits, but I have put my own limits on Stana's activities; instead of being en femme full-time, I am en femme much less often.

Rhonda: Also, if so, does she waiver and occasionally want less Stana in your and her relationship?

My wife would be happy if Stana was completely eliminated from our lives.  

Lisa: I am wondering if it is concern for your entire family's feelings that motivates you not to go full time.

Absolutely. My wife married a man. I am committed to her and my marriage and try to fulfill that role as a husband as best as I can.

Lisa: I always put my wife and family first, so my second question is whether you think some TG people are being self-centered for failing to take into account the needs and feelings of their loved ones.

Again, absolutely. The spouse is often forgotten and left behind in the dust.

Fall fashions for femulating fellas (Source: Pinterest)

Noor Talbi

And now for something completely different

My wife received some gift cards from Dress Barn for her birthday, so I took her to the local Roz & ALI (nee Dress Barn) store to go shopping.

I went in boy mode and basically fetched items off the racks for my wife to try on in the dressing room. Her MS is such that she is in no condition to run around the store fetching stuff.

During the fetching, I saw some items I'd like to try on (what else is new?), but I would never do it while with my wife because I would not want to embarrass her. I would not be embarrassed at all, but I defer to my wife's feelings when she is in tow.

Anyway, I saw something I had never seen in Roz & ALI or Dress Barn before: a male salesperson! He was in his late 20's or early 30's (I'm terrible with estimating ages, so don't hold me to that) and he was dressed in male hipster mode. His outfit was androgynous and he was so thin that he could be mistaken as a female except for his closely trimmed beard and short hair.

And so it goes.

Wearing Ann Taylor (Source: Ann Taylor)

Alexandre Styker femulates in the 2004 television film Belinda Et Moi.

Conundrum

By Paula Gaikowski

I’ve also noticed the paradox that Stana mentioned when interacting with women other than our wives.

I always enjoyed the affirmation that I received from other women. I have had women who were fascinated by my transgender narrative. They seem to share my joy and were interested in helping me.

When shopping for wigs at the Paula Young factory store, I always meet other women there that are helpful. The store is private and most women are my age. It’s a place where they feel comfortable.   When they see I value their opinion, they become inquisitive and delight in helping remodel me into a better version of being a women

There was one customer that I remember so well. She was helping me pick out wigs and helped me style them. We sat and had some deep conversations about her life, her gay brother and my transgenderism. She kind of rattled me when she told me that I make a great women and she hoped someday I would seek re-assignment since it was obvious that I was really a women.

I’ve had several MAC makeovers and the makeup artists and I have had some very personal conversations about being transgender, femininity and relationships.

One reoccurring question, “Why do you want to be a woman?” “What is motivating you?”

There’s this weird gushing that takes place and I can’t place in my mind what it’s about?

My guess is with Stana’s thought, that finally “a male” sees what it’s like to wear Spanx, heels and pantyhose for 10 hours or perhaps it’s the joy one feels when you win someone over to your point of view?

When a Baptist Pastor coverts a sinner and they see the light?

Is that gushing that we see in our lady friends?

What an endorsement!

We’ve come over from the dark side!

All things change when it’s their husband. Oh, yes!

In my previous analogy, having a transgender friend is a compliment, I want to be like you, I want to join you. It is a positive signal. To use an old phrase “Imitation is the is the sincerest form of flattery.”

The psychological pay-off for them is positive.

When it’s her husband, she no longer gets that positive pay-off. This change affects the paradigm her life is built on, her own identity as a heterosexual woman, her femininity, reputation, self-worth, children, marriage and materiel well-being could all be impacted by her transgender spouse.

Conundrum is an appropriate word, “a confusing and difficult problem or question.”

That could also being the definition for transgender.

Wearing Veronica Beard (Source: Veronica Beard)

Wayne Brady (center) and her fellow femulators on stage in Kinky Boots

I am my own wife

Due to my wife's health issues, I have taken on many of the tasks usually performed by a housewife. I do the laundry, buy the groceries, do the vacuuming, wash the floors and the dishes (not at the same time) and perform any other cleaning duties, as needed.

I usually do not cook because I work full-time Monday through Friday, so by the time I get home from work, there is not enough time to prepare a meal and eat it before we go to bed. However, I imagine I will also be doing the cooking once I retire from my 9 to 5 job.

In many ways, I am my own wife. And I am pretty good at it. More than once, my spouse has praised me and added that I should have been the wife and mother in our family.

Whenever she says that I want to blurt out, "Not should have been... I am," but I bite my tongue to avoid making her feel bad about her physical disabilities.

Lucky that I am such a feminine guy. I imagine that many manly men would not cotton to performing womanly chores, but I am not bothered by it. When I was a youngster, I enjoyed helping my mother around the house doing the cleaning and laundry. She was my role model and I guess it was inevitable that I would make someone a good wife someday!

Wearing Temperley London.

Asifa Lahore, professional femulator

The Other Woman

After 21 years of marriage, he gave me the news. He is finally becoming himself — but I am more lost than ever

I saw a headline recently reporting how proud Bruce Jenner’s mother is of him (her). While that’s both noble and supportive, what I haven’t seen are stories about the private struggle — the husbands, wives and children who suddenly find themselves faced with difficult choices.

I’m here to tell you one.

Read the rest of Diana Matthew’s Salon story here.

 

 

 

Wearing Anthropologie.

 

 

 

The winner of the 2015 Miss Eng’g womanless beauty pageant
(Thank-you, Cheryl for the photo)

Throwback Thursday: Not As Stuck

Susan of Transitioning into Tomorrow fame suggested that "it would be interesting if you repost some of your older posts and then comment on them as Stana 2015. Has your life, appearance and/or thoughts changed since then?"

I like Susan's idea and since she suggested that I revisit my December 12, 2007 post, "Stuck At Home" as an example, that is what I am going to do.

Here is the original post:

My dear friend Diana often e-mails me to ask if I would like to go out en femme with her. I turn her down more often than I accept her invitation.

Diana is single and lives as a woman full-time. I am married and live as a woman part-time.

Most of the time, I am in male mode because my wife married a man and prefers me in boy mode. She dislikes it when I am in girl mode and to keep the peace, I agreed that I only do the girly thing on a limited basis.

I am in male mode most of the time also because my employer hired a man and might not be too happy if I showed up at work in a dress and heels on days that don't end the month of October.

When Diana wants to go out, she opens the door and she is out (lucky girl!). When I want to go out, it is more complicated. I need two hours at a minimum to transform from boy mode to girl mode. And if it is an evening outing, that means leaving work early to get ready.

Since there are a number of complications in my girl life, I have to pick and choose my en femme outings and as a result, I have to turn Diana down more often than I would like. I just hope she doesn't get tired of my rejections and stops asking!

Here is my 2015 take on that 2007 post:

The situation is basically the same with my wife. When I am with her either at home or away, I am in boy mode. However, when I am away without her, girl mode is always an option.

The situation at work has changed for the better since 2007. I came out to Human Resources, my manager, my supervisor and a few of my co-workers. Most were surprised, but my supervisor having witnessed most of my Halloween office girl "costumes" said she was not surprised. The powers that be at work have encouraged me to dress appropriately for my transgender, but I have not taken them up on that yet because I have hesitated talking to my wife about it.

Regarding my need for "two hours at a minimum to transform from boy mode to girl mode," that has also changed for the better. I can usually get ready in an hour more or less assuming that I have maintained a hairless status for my body parts that show.

And my appearance has changed for the better. I am definitely more expert at makeup application and I believe that my fashion sense has improved a little, too. (By the way, the accompanying selfie was taken a few days before I wrote that 2007 post.)

Finally, Diana is a very good friend and still asks me to join her on en femme outings despite my many rejections.

 

 

 

Wearing Valentino.

 

 

 

Not your father’s men’s club meeting.

Signs

In response to my clip-on earrings post on Monday, Robin wrote urging me to get my ears pierced. She mentioned that if the pain of getting my ears pieced was the issue, I had nothing to fear but ear fear itself, because the pain "was nothing."

I replied that I usually get my teeth fixed without Novocain or whatever they use these days, so pain is not an issue.. Rather, my spouse is the issue.

She is not thrilled with the fact that her husband is a woman, but she realizes that I must let my girl out for air once in awhile. I appreciate that she is OK with me being the authentic me some of the time, but I don't want to rub her nose in it.

Everyday, she sees signs that remind her that her husband is a woman.

We share a walk-in closet and as she enters it, she encounters a rack now half full of her husband's dresses, skirts, blouses, and slacks. On the floor below those pretty things are countless boxes containing her husband's high heels. Next to the shoes are storage totes containing her husband's lingerie and hosiery. Next to the totes is her husband's cosmetics box. Still other totes contain her husband's jewelry and purses. And on the shelf above her tops and jeans is a tote containing her husband's coiffures.

If I dress as a woman when my spouse is home, I avoid my spouse so that she does not see her husband as a woman because she has often said, "I don't want to see you dressed as a woman." (On occasion, curiosity gets the best of her and she wants to see how I look, but I don't show her unless she is interested.)

My body has signs that may remind her that I am a woman. My hairless arms, legs, breasts, shoulders and back are the most obvious signs.

Less obvious are my neatly maintained eyebrows (eyeglasses hide how neat and feminine they actually look).

She never mentions the stuff in our closet, nor my shaved body, nor my feminized eyebrows --- out of sight, out of mind.

But if I had my ears pierced, there would be no way to hide that from her. It would be a constant reminder that I am a woman, so I let it be.

 

 

 

Wearing Light in the Box.

 

 

 

Femulating British sailor, circa 1910