Misfit

Alli Cummings was different than the others.

Other 12-year-olds were giddy about getting their first training bras, but not Alli, who was completely satisfied wearing an undershirt.

Other pre-teens were experimenting with makeup and hairdos trying to look as pretty as possible, but not Alli, who had absolutely no interest in such feminine matters.

Instead of becoming a lady, Alli was becoming a misfit and Alli's parents were worried.

Alli's mom did not have time to deal with Alli. She worked all day and expected her better half to take care of any child-rearing issues.

One evening after dinner, Alli's mom demanded, "You have to do something about Alli!"

Alli's dad deferred, "Yes, dear. I know. I'll have a talk with Alli soon."

The next day, when Alli's dad heard Alli come home from school, he called out from the kitchen, "Alli, I want to speak with you."

"OK, Dad," Alli called back.

Alli shuffled to kitchen worried that something was wrong.

In the kitchen. Alli's dad was wearing his gauzy periwinkle apron and had his shoulder-length hair pulled back in a ponytail so as not to get in the way as he prepared dinner. When he saw Alli, his face brightened and he broke out in a big smile. "Hello, Sweetie."

"Hi, Daddy."

Alli was relieved by the big smile; maybe Alli was not in trouble after all.

"Sit down. We need to talk."

Now Alli was not so sure about being in trouble or not, and sat down on a chair at the kitchen table.

Alli's dad wiped his hands with a towel, then walked over to the table with his high heels clicking loudly on the tile floor. As he sat, he smoothed the skirt of his housedress under him, then crossed his legs at the ankles.

"So, Alli, what are your future plans?"

"What do you mean, Daddy."

"Well, what do you want to be when you grow up? A man or a wo-man?"

Alli was upset by the question. No one wanted to be a man and Alli was surprised that his dad would suggest that Alli would choose such a lowly status in life.

"I want to be a wo-man, of course," Alli replied.

"I'm glad to hear that," Alli's dad responded, "But actions speak louder than words and your actions tell me that you want to be a man, not a wo-man."

"Why do you say that, Daddy?"

"All the boys your age are getting into girly things, but you are still acting like a boy. I was talking with Mrs. Reardon the other day and he was bragging to me about how your best friend Timmi was becoming such a young wo-man. His dad said that Timmi has been wearing a training bra and corset for months and wears skirts and dresses now. And he had his first appointment at the beauty salon just last week."

"I know," Alli replied, "Timmi is so girly now just like Ralphi and Franni."

"Don't you want to be girly, too?"

"I do, but I'm scared."

"What are you scared of?"

"Ralphi said that when a girly boy turns 14, he has to have an operation and they cut off his privates."

"No, no. no. There is no operation. When you turn 14, you will go to the doctor and she shows you how to tuck your privates up between your legs. Then she will fit you with a femulator to keep your privates in place."

"But how will I pee if my privates are tucked up between my legs?"

"You'll have to sit on the toilet to pee and when you are done, you will have to wipe yourself dry with bathroom tissue.... just like a real woman. There's nothing to it!"

"So that's all... there's no operation?"

"No operation at all, Sweetie."

"That's great news, Daddy!"

"Any other questions, Alli? I have to finish getting dinner ready before Mother comes home from work."

"Just one question, Daddy."

"What is it, Alli?"

"How soon can I start becoming a wo-man?"

Alli's dad was so happy to hear Alli's question that he wiped a tear from his eye as he answered, "We can start right after dinner. Mother bought you a training bra and a corset months ago in the hope that you were ready to go girly. I'll show you how to put on the bra and I will help you with your corset. Then I'll show you how to use makeup and if we have time, we can paint your nails and put your hair up in curlers. How does that sound?"

"I can't wait to go girly, Daddy."

"I can't wait for you to go girly, too, Alli.”

Wearing Nine West

Mona femulates Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's 

How Do We Dress When There's No One — and Nothing — to Dress For?

“When there’s no one to dress for anymore, how do we dress? Can clothes still bring us joy and self-expression when we’re all sitting alone in our homes? Do they lose their power without a witness?”

In a thought-provoking article on POPSUGAR Fashion, Lindsay Miller struggles with how to dress in this era of self-imposed social distancing. Her thoughts on the matter can apply equally to those of us who are closeted and only dress alone at home.

Click here to read Ms. Miller’s article.

Wearing Tahari ASL

Joe Pocknell femulating on stage in the British production of The Lady’s Trial in 2015.

Three Strikes and You’re Out

Last week, they postponed the True Colors Conference. Sunday evening, they cancelled Hamvention. Monday evening Tuesday morning, they postponed cancelled the Transgender Lives Conference. So all three conferences where I was presenting have been affected by the Coronavirus, also known as the “Trump Flu.”

Damn!

On a happier note, Peaches alerted me to an intriguing article about British cartoonist Steven Appleby, who crossdresses full-time.

Going to wash my hands now.

Wearing Price

Cartoonist Steven Appleby

Nailing It

I have been a proponent of pre-glued press-on fake nails ever since I tried on my first pair back at the turn of the century. They go on quickly and last for days as long as your daily pursuits tend to be on the dainty side of the street. In other words, don’t expect extended wear if you plan to use a jack hammer.

During my annual five-day trips en femme to Hamvention, one set of nails usually lasts the whole trip and on more than one occasion, one set of nails lasted a whole week at Fantasia Fair. (But your mileage may vary.)

I am lucky and have long thin girly fingers, so the size of the fake nails is usually not an issue, whereas it may be an issue for girls with bigger fingers. The main problem I with pre-glued press-on nails is finding them.

I started with Revlon’s pre-glued press-on nails, but Revlon discontinued the product. Then I switched to Kiss pre-glued press-on nails, but they discontinued the product, too. I managed to stock up on Kiss nails by purchasing all I could find on the Internet, but those sources have dried up and I face a Kissless future!

Jenn to the rescue!

She sent me a link to a Cosmopolitan article titled “I Wore Every Press-On Nail Brand (Really) and These 5 Were Best.” Two of the top five were pre-glued press-on nails, whereas the other three were not pre-glued. Now I have two new (to me) sources for the nails I prefer to wear!

Wearing Boston Proper

Crossdressed dance marathon, circa 1935

13th

I usually go grocery shopping on Wednesdays, but I tempted fate and went today – Friday the 13th!

I drove 5 minutes to the nearby Aldi and as I turned the last corner, I could see that the parking lot was packed! This was not normal for a weekday morning. The only times I have seen Aldi so busy on a weekday is when a snowstorm is in the forecast for the next day. No snow this winter in our neck of the woods, so it must be coronavirus panic.

I found a distant empty parking spot, parked my car, grabbed my purse and walked as quickly as I could in heels to avoid getting too wet from the rain.

I only had a few items to buy and they were all in stock. (Good thing I did not need bread because the bread shelves were bare.) All the registers were open to handle the crowd and I was able to pay for my purchases quickly.

In contrast to Aldi, CVS across the street was dead. I had to buy some vitamins and was in and out of the store in no time. I arrived back home five minutes later unscathed by the 13th.

Roundtrip was less than an hour, so some may think it was a waste of time for me to spend over an hour doing my makeup and hair and getting dressed to go out en femme for such a short time. But with everything being cancelled because of the coronavirus, the opportunities to go out en femme are getting fewer and fewer, so a girl has to take advantage of any opportunity to be girly.

Wearing Venus

Robert Reed femulating on a 1975 episode of television's Medical Center

Three Thoughts on Thursday

25,208 Days and Counting Dept.

Thank-you all for the birthday wishes!

Many of my regular correspondents and commenters sent birthday wishes and I was surprised by the “strangers,” readers who I do not know, who sent their birthday wishes, too!

Either way, I appreciated all your kind words! Thank-you!


Postponing the Inevitable Dept.

Monday, I mentioned that next week’s True Colors Conference was the conference that I would be attending that was most likely to be cancelled due to the coronavirus. I was wrong – rather than being cancelled, it was postponed to Wednesday to May 22 and 23.

Coincidentally, there was a ham radio conference on the same dates as the True Colors Conference that I would have attended if I had not committed to present at True Colors. Turns out that conference was cancelled on Wednesday!

Too Close for Comfort Dept.

“I never feel comfortable in the women’s department. I feel like I’m just a little too close to trying on a dress.”

So said Jerry in “The Red Dot” episode of Seinfeld.

On Seinfeld, Jerry did not play a trans character. In real life, I am not aware that Jerry is a trans person.

Larry David wrote “The Red Dot” episode and as far as I know, Larry is not a trans person either.

My point is that the “too close to trying on a dress” line came from a non-trans person. Admittedly, it was intended to be humorous, but I wonder if there is a grain of truth buried in that line.

Do non-trans men feel uncomfortable in women's department because they feel like they are a little too close to trying on a dress?

I don’t know because I am trans. Whenever I am in the women’s department, I always feel close to trying on a dress. In fact, I would love to try on a dress if I see one I like and I have actually done so on more than one occasion in boy mode.

But do non-trans men have thoughts about wearing dresses?

I am sure that the average guy would not admit it except in jest because he would not want to muddle up his masculine image. But, it does make me wonder how close the average guy is to joining our team.

Wearing Michelle Mason

Dave Foley femulating on television’s Kids in the Hall

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

Going Viral

I planned to attend three events this spring, but my plans may be scuttled by the Coronavirus.

Coming up next Friday is the True Colors Conference – a conference for LGBT school-aged kids and young adults. Schools throughout the Northeast bus kids to this conference and already, one school as cancelled the trip and others may follow.

Of the three events I had planned to attend, True Colors is the one that is most likely to be cancelled because of bad timing and because school-aged kids are the main participants. The Conference website declares that “the conference will go on rain or shine, virus or no, with plenty of hand sanitizer.” We’ll see.

Next month is the Transgender Lives Conference. And in May is Hamvention. Whether those conferences go on depends on what happens with the virus. IMPOTUS claims that things will improve when the weather gets warmer, but considering the source, I am not counting on his hunch.

I am presenting at all three events and hope I have the opportunity to do so. But I am also a senior citizen – and they say that the Coronavirus appears most dangerous to seniors, so I am loathe to put my life on the line just to present at a conference.

We will just have to wait and see what happens.

Wearing Boston Proper

Alex Mathias, Vadim Oleynik and Artem Meh femulating on Ukranian television’s version of Your Face Sounds Familiar

By the Numbers

5 
Percentage of the population estimated to be “transvestites” circa 1965

4,715 
Total number of posts for this blog

7
Number of times I went to work as a woman on Halloween

2
Number of times I went to work as a woman that was not on Halloween

0.6
Percentage of the adults in the USA today who identify as “transgender”

3
Estimated percentage of all ages in the USA today who identify as “transgender”

9
Number of times I have attended Hamvention as a woman

12,816
Approximate number of miles I have driven as a woman on my roadtrips to and from Hamvention (through Connecticut, New York, Pennsylvania, West Virginia and Ohio)

13
Number of relatives who have seen me dressed as a woman

43
My natural bust measurement

19,653,259 
All-time pageviews of this blog

81 
Pairs of high heels in my wardrobe

69
Number of candles on my birthday cake today

Femulate reader Mikki

Sisters

By Diana

In view of your own family posts, I thought I must share a surreal moment I had on Sunday.

My sister (2 years younger than me) suffers with anxiety and has been struggling with up and down moods since Mum died.

Every Sunday, her and Mum would to spend an hour or two talking on the phone discussing life, what they had done that week and what was coming up. It was a regular thing always in the morning.

Since Mum died, she has missed that and subsequently on a Sunday, she has a deep low. Often, if I am around and on Messenger, she will send me a note which usually evolves into a conversation where she can unload all her woes.

This Sunday she was having a really bad time. Not only was she down because of Mum, but also her ailments were playing up. Plus her doctor had requested a review of her anxiety pills and she was afraid she would lose them. So she was telling me all this and I was giving her advice as usual. And then in a message relating to Dad – a typo crept into my message – where the word “secret” appeared out of context.

In her reply she mentioned she knew I had a secret? After lots of towing and frowing, she finally spilt the beans.

When I was in my twenties and in between moving into my new house and home she had raided my girly cabinet! Finding a wig, makeup and lingerie confused her, so she talked to Dad, who had found my clothes stash years before.

Dad had told her it was “just a phase” and nothing more was said.

She saw me doing all the manly things like martial arts and cars, lots of women and the odd potential fatherhood moment. And so nothing was ever said, but it had never left her – a question unanswered. Needless to say she worked out what it was and wondered if I had taken it further. So my sister has been living with that for nearly 40 years always wondering.

It was only confirmed in a talk with my wife at some point who put her straight, but my wife banned her from ever mentioning it to anyone including me. My wife is very embarrassed about people knowing about my dressing, but I was surprised she would not let my sister talk to me about it.

So the truth came out by accident,

We had a long message exchange about this. She even had to see Diana on Facebook! Naturally, she only has a limited story, but I promised to meet and tell her all.

She was surprised that I was happy that she knew. I did explain that I had intended to tell her anyway once my birthday (this Sunday) was over as felt I should clear the decks.

One thing about Mum's death has made me understand that it is not fair to have unknown stuff hidden to be discovered when it's too late. I am happy to tell anyone I feel comfortable with that I am part woman and not ashamed of the fact.

OK – I am selective about who I tell, but some women have already guessed there was something anyway. Men do not take it so well.

Naturally, my sister had told her husband who took it in stride, but I am not surprised as he has a love of dressing in very strange attire if the opportunity arrives (fancy dress, themed party, etc.).

The conversation took a very strange direction as I was the one trying reassure my sister that I was happy and pleased that she knew. She kept apologizing for the fact she knew.

It was the complete opposite of what I had imagined. She was the one who felt in the wrong, not me. Luckily, after lots of messages, she finally understood that I was happy to be what I am and quite OK with the fact she knew .

Once that penny finally dropped, she finished her conversation off with a killer line.

“You may be my pain in the ass brother who I love, but you do look good as a woman.”

I thought I had to share this with you as it was a very important moment for us both.

Isn’t life strange!

Wearing Melly M

Femulators attending the National Variety Artists Halloween Ball in New York City in 1960

Location, Location, Location

Driveway en femme

Our first house was a crossdresser’s nightmare!

It was less than 50 feet away from our neighbor’s house. Our driveway ran along the property line between houses and our garage was under our house, so when leaving the house, I would have to back out of the garage and then proceed forward on the driveway for about 100 feet to the street, all in full view of the neighbors if they happened to be out on their deck, which faced our house, or out roaming the yard between houses.

As a result, coming and going en femme was an adventure. Before leaving en femme, I would have to check to see if all was clear before opening the garage door and making a quick getaway. Coming home was less problematical because I usually returned home after dark.

One time, I checked and all was clear, but by the time I got into my car and backed out of the garage, my neighbor had come outside and was standing on the deck. I avoided looking at her, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see that she was watching me. I was so flustered that I pulled out onto the street without checking for traffic. Imagine if I had a car accident in front of my house while en femme!

My neighbor never mentioned the incident.

Our second house is a crossdresser’s dream!

The property across the street is reservoir property and as a result, it is undeveloped woodland and will probably remain so forever. My nearest neighbor’s house is over 200 feet away and my property is so treed in that there is no worry about my comings and goings en femme. In fact, I have walked down our 120-foot driveway en femme on a number of occasions to fetch the mail and newspaper without a care.

And so I go.

Wearing Venus

Femulator Bernardo Letro