Unfathomable

“I find your approach to trans and even cross-dressing completely unfathomable (you have always really been a woman while the women in your ‘funnies’ are really boys)”

The above comment came my way last week and I asked the commenter to expound on those words.

“In Mother Night Vonnegut notes that ‘You are who you pretend to be, so be very careful about who you pretend to be.’

“One problem with the classic Virginia Prince/FPE/SSS definition of crossdresser is that it demands a kind of schizophrenic performance, being both ‘woman’ and ‘heterosexual male’ at the same time, boundaries enforced by the consensus of the group which says that slipping too far into queer is betraying truth and right.

“When you have Funnies that are based on the joke that one of the women is ‘really’ a boy, you highlight that kind of conflict in policing ourselves intended to enforce social binaries and deny any possibility of transformation. Are we our performance or is that too radical an idea, one that might allow boundary slip and allow us to let go of status and privilege.

“I understand how you feel a need to hold onto your history, onto assumptions placed on your biology, because letting those defences slip feels scary and radical.

“But as Ms. Finney Boylan notes, if trans is just regular on Jeopardy is it really radical anymore? Or is it just scary to those who feel a need to cling to some kind of enforced separation?

“Your own long held and deep trans nature is obvious. So is your need to hang onto habitual handles of self-policing.  

“It’s up to you to find your own balance.

“Just one more point.

“No matter how liminal April Ashley knew herself to be, knowing her birth sex and biology, knowing that she passed between worlds, I bet in her many decades of life she never felt the urge to announce ‘But I'm a boy!’

“Thinking is the only way I have found to move beyond culturally implanted expectations, assumptions and habits.”

So the question for me is: Am I a woman or a female impersonator?

Wearing New York & Company

Andee attending her local support group's holiday party.

The Reality of Dreams

Coincidently, the night before Lisa sent me the following article, I dreamed that I was searching desperately for a red bra. (Why? I don’t know.) I woke up after going through my mother’s bras and coming up empty-handed! Go figure. (By the way, I seldom remember my dreams.)

By Lisa Phelps

When you dream, what do you dream about?

I asked Stana that question back in February. If she doesn’t mind me saying so, she mentioned that now she is typically a woman in her dreams, although that was not always the case. My friend Jocelyn also touched on the question in a recent post on Kandi’s Land.

I had a dream on December 22nd that had me scratching my head at first. In this dream I am with a teenager girl in a small chapel – a place of contemplation. I am definitely male and she is definitely young. She is thin and doesn’t yet have her “womanly” figure, but she has beautiful long blond hair and delicate, porcelain features. It is clear that she will one day be beautiful. 

We sit on a small love seat and I put my arm around her. There are a few other people in the room and they are saying to me, “You know she is only 17 and you are nearly 25, so she is too young for you.” In my dream, I think to myself, “It is only an eight year difference, but you are probably right. She is too young for me.”

When I awoke, I was perplexed. Why would I be so obviously a male in my dream, when I clearly feel feminine far more than masculine these days? Why wasn’t I the girl? Here’s where my dream interpretations took me. 

Before going to bed, I had been thinking about a young lady of about 14 I had seen at church during Advent. She wore a black sparkly short skirt with a white fluffy sweater over it. Her long, blond hair cascaded down her back. I was envious of her because she was so lovely, she was being kind to her younger sister and she seemed to be part of a beautiful family with several girls in it. As I drifted off to sleep, I was thinking that I wanted to have a dream that I was her, so that I could enjoy “her life” (vicariously). 

The other piece of the puzzle is my age in the dream (25). Twenty-five was the adult male me because I reached my adulthood living as a male. But I think it is the dialog which holds the key to interpreting this dream. Those around me, as well as me (the male in the story), were saying she is too young for you. Therefore, I believe that “she” was a me that I could never be – my subconscious brain was saying that I could never go back and be a young woman like the young woman I saw in church. I can’t go back in time and live my life as a cisgender female teenager. Lest you think that idea causes me distress, I must say that it does not because despite the fact that I identified with females as a teenager, I lived a very full life as a male teenager.

Other dreams come to mind that relate to my dysphoria that you may find interesting.

A couple of months ago, I began discussions with my wife about taking female hormones in a small dose to help alleviate my dysphoria. That discussion induced a very interesting dream involving a train. I am standing on a raised bridge in Japan waiting for a train with my wife and a group of people. There is no railing on the raised bridge and I am distracted by a train official who is walking too close to the edge. 

When I look up again, I realize that the group is gone – apparently the train was ready to depart and they have left on it. On the platform below I see a train looking like it is about to depart. As I sprint toward it, I see that the doors are closing and I won’t make it. Undeterred, I notice a bench by the side of one of the carriages that has an open carriage window and decide that I will use it to catch my train. In an incredible, athletic (only to be attempted in a dream!) move, I vault off the bench like a spear, right through the open window. I pull myself together on the floor and realize that I am in the First Class section. I go to the Second Class car to find my wife, but none of my group can be found. I awoke very distressed that I had left my wife behind. I don’t think you need me to interpret that dream!

Back in the summer, as I contemplated the idea of taking hormones, I had a dream that also took place inside a church, where I found myself standing next to a pool of crystal clear water (not unlike a really large baptismal pool). A lad next to me told me that if I could hold my breath for a long time, I could dive deep in the water and reach an opening into another “room” deep under the pool. 

I seized the opportunity and dove down, discovering an opening at the bottom which I could squeeze through. On the other side was an underwater room. I was amazed that my air wasn’t running out. There were others gathered there, enjoying their time by swimming to and fro with great abandon.

After a few minutes, I feared that I might run out of air, so I squeezed back through the opening and went back to the surface. After reaching the top, I missed being in the room and almost immediately yearned to go down again. Breathing in deeply, I took the journey back down in the water to the narrow opening. The doorway (if you could even call it that) wasn’t as big as it had been before, but I wasn’t too worried about that because I could still squeeze through it. I rejoined the group and this time stayed even longer.

After a time, I thought it best to return to “my world,” so I headed back to the opening. It had narrowed even further this time. Once again back on top, I made a great effort to stay away from the pool. Yet, I found that it was calling out to me and it took great effort to stay away.

Eventually, the desire to descend again into the watery depths overcame me. Once again, I dove into the deep pool. This time, however, the opening had narrowed so much that I feared it would be impossible for me to go through it. Yet, when I stuck my hand through the crack that remained, I found that the rest of my body was able to follow. I quickly joined the youthful and fun group in the room – everyone was full of life. I completely lost track of time.

When I finally realized that it was time to return to the surface, the hole was now the size of a softball. It seemed impossible for anyone to get through it. One young boy managed to get through somehow, but by the time I went up to the spot, all that was left was a hole the diameter of a dime. I put my head against it anyway and one of new friends grabbed my feet and gave me a big push, but, nothing happened. The door back to the surface world apparently was now closed for good. Although that thought was unnerving, I realized that although I might not be able to return to the world I had known, this new place was delightful in its own way, so I had nothing to fear.

To me the “other room” is my female side.

Finally, I should also mention the interesting dream I had earlier in the year involving my wonderful spouse (who is “don’t ask, don’t tell” most of the time and never wants to see me as a female) that prompted me to ask Stana about her dreams. In this dream, my wife and I were standing at the top of a high mountain ridge shouting the names of those we love so they would echo off some canyon walls below. We listed all of our children, our now deceased parents and each other and then she yelled, “I love Lisa!” When I turned to her in surprise, she smiled and said, “She [our daughter] told me, and it's OK.”

In reality, my wife doesn’t know my female name and I doubt she would react like that if she knew, but in my dream, she used that occasion to affirm me. It gave me warm fuzzies and I awoke very happy.

Have you had any interesting dreams? Does your brain let you be a female, at least occasionally, in your dreams? Does your subconscious mind give “voice” to your transgender fears? I would love to hear more from others about their experiences dreaming as a crossdresser/transgender person.

Wearing Forte

Long-time German Femulate reader Saskia in March 2021 taken on the last day of a long weekend near Lake Constance... A week before the so-called “lockdown” and the last time she was "away from home" for a long time, because a few days later the requests followed to minimize your contacts, stay at home, etc. And it was connected with a small, unplanned incident: Saskia’s car wouldn’t start due to a battery failure. “So I had to face the breakdown assistant in my Saskia persona. But all went well and after a while, I was able to start my journey home.” Saskia is on the Internet at flickr.

Someday Funnies

Wearing T Tahari

Michelle out amongst the redwoods at a state park.

Old Dog – New Tricks

By Sally Stone

I am always looking for opportunities to improve my use of makeup, so I am continuously on the lookout for new techniques or a technique I haven’t tried yet. Over the years, I have learned that many of the makeup hacks that work well for cis women, aren’t quite so effective for me. I have also been disappointed by many of the techniques offered for transwomen. Ultimately, finding techniques that work for me individually is hard work and involves lots of trial and error. In fact, most of the time, a technique that works well for me is one cobbled together from a combination of hacks from both cis and transwomen.

Lately, I have decided I am not happy with my long-standing method for camouflaging beard shadow. The common solution is to use a correction type concealer that neutralizes the blue undertones created by whiskers under the skin. For a long time, I have used an orange concealer to neutralize my beard shadow underneath foundation.

While the orange concealer does neutralize the blue, there is a tradeoff, that is, now I have to apply an excessive amount of foundation to cover up the unnatural orange undertone. This results in foundation that is way too heavy and isn’t very natural looking. If I go light on the foundation, then the orange undertone isn’t covered properly. What is a girl to do?

Experiment is exactly what I did. Instead of the trans hack, I thought about the cis method of using concealer, that is, apply concealer over the foundation.

Obviously, you can’t apply a correction concealer or you’ll end up with areas of the face exactly the same color as the concealer. Since I would use orange to correct the blue, I’d end up looking like an Oompa Loompa. 

To use concealer on top of foundation on an area of the face you don't want to alter the color of, it is important to select a concealer that matches the shade of your foundation. And, if you aren’t going to neutralize the blue undertones of beard shadow, it is imperative you find a highly pigmented concealer that adequately covers beard shadow, but also blends well.

So I went on a search for a high-powered concealer that matched the shade of my foundation.  That was hard, really hard, but I did find one. I use L’Oreal Infallible Total Cover, shade 308 as a foundation.  It’s called “Sun Beige” which isn’t very helpful when trying to compare shades. Even L’Oreal’s concealers don’t use shade descriptions that make it easy to match their own foundation, so I resorted to a personal search to find a concealer, any brand, that matched the L’Oreal foundation.

 Honestly, it was stroke of luck that I found a concealer from the makeup brand “Benefit.”  It is called “Industrial Strength” concealer and their shade #3, medium, turned out to be a near perfect match for my preferred brand of foundation.

Now, I could do the rest of my face with foundation and then cover my beard shadow with concealer. Since the two products were nearly an identical shade, all I had to do was to blend them extremely well. This was the breakthrough I needed. No longer did I need to put a lot foundation over the orange corrector and since this new concealer was super-pigmented, I could use it sparingly resulting in an intense, extremely effective coverage without piling on a lot of makeup. 

Using a high-quality foundation brush, I feathered the concealer into the foundation creating a uniform all-over shade that completely covered my beard shadow, but didn’t result in a heavy, caky face. After blending foundation and concealer, I did my normal contouring and then set my makeup.

Clearly, this new beard cover technique turned out to be a very effective combination of techniques that I never would have stumbled upon without resorting to a lot of research and a lot more personal experimentation. It only goes to show that makeup techniques are supremely personal. While you can learn a lot from what you read or what you watch on the Internet, experimenting with individual or combination techniques is the only way to find what works best for each of us. You must always be willing to try something new. 

Who says an old dog can’t learn new tricks!

Source: Rue La La

Gracie doing her weekly grocery shopping.

Someday Funnies

Wearing StyleWe

Monique on a recent Saturday evening at the “Rainbow Crossing” on Central Avenue in St. Petersburg, Florida.

Don’t Leave Home without It

I have had car troubles twice while en femme (a dead battery and a flat tire). In both cases, I was lucky and gentlemen came to my rescue. I did not have to lift a finger to get back on the road.

But gentlemen are not always available, so a girl should be prepared for the worst case scenario. Lifehacker.com posted an article describing safety tools you should have in your car. Here is a list of those tools, but I advise you to consult the Lifehacker article for the details:

• blindspot mirror
• tire pressure tools
• rechargeable battery booster
• flares, lights or other signals
• seatbelt cutter and window breaker

I don't have a battery booster in my car, but I do carry jumper cables (and I know how to use them). 

Also, I belong to AAA, so I guess a gentleman is always available if need be.

Happy Motoring!

Wearing Venus

Reading Femulate from north of the border is Robin Southern.

Someday Funnies

Wearing Elisabetta Franchi

Dawn Wyvern enjoying a summer day shopping in Exeter (UK).
Dawn blogs at http://dawn-wyvern.blogspot.com/.

No Way to Femulate

By Jenny Shaw

Christmas and New Year’s are already a passing memory! 

On Christmas Eve, I celebrated a year of living openly and predominantly as Jenny and it’s been absolutely wonderful – so many new experiences and so much acceptance and affirmation from friends old and new. 

One new and unexpected experience took place on 10th December. I had driven to a nearby village to accompany some carol singing for elderly residents. I had just tuned my guitar when I had the most awful tummy pain and broke into a massive sweat that thoroughly soaked my clothes and wig.  

A friend, who is a retired doctor, insisted that I be taken to the local hospital. I was duly driven there by his wife, interrupted by a short stop for me to be sick en route. Following a CT scan, I was diagnosed with pancreatitis caused by gallstones. I was then taken by ambulance to the County Hospital in Lincoln (UK) where I was put in a single-bed room and a gang of nurses helped me to defemulate. My sweat-sodden clothes, wig and prosthetics were stuffed into a plastic bag and all I had to remove my makeup were wet wipes – not very efficient! In the end, the irreducible minimum of outward femininity were my red toenails! 

I was there for nine nights, the first eight in a private room. It was some time before I realized that the private room had been assigned to me out of consideration for my transgender status.  Furthermore, although the paperwork was all in my male name, I was consistently addressed as “Jenny” throughout my stay - even after several days of facial stubble had accumulated.  

I have to return for two follow-up appointments in the next few weeks, but for simplicity will go in male mode.  I can happily report that the contents of the plastic bag were all restored to A1 condition after I returned home. Also, despite feeling under par, I did manage to spend a very lovely Christmas with some of my family.

It was a new experience en femme, but not one I would have chosen! However, as an object lesson in how the NHS in the UK treats transgender patients with respect and consideration, I couldn’t be more impressed or grateful.

Wearing StyleWe

Longtime follower of Femulate, Paula Davina Kennedy AKA Paul David Landry and feline friend. Femulate is the “first page I open in the morning.”

Someday Funnies: Gonna Need a Bigger Closet!

Wearing Venus

Regular reader of Femulate, Aunty Mae

Michael Scott: Crossdresser

I was a regular viewer of The Office during its original run (2005–2013). And I have been a regular viewer of Comedy Central’s reruns of The Office.

The Office does not offer much trans-wise. In the 2005 “Halloween” episode, Michael Scott (Steve Carell) mentioned that he came to work two Halloweens in a row dressed as Monica Lewinsky.

In a 2007 episode (“The Negotiation”), Michael mistakenly purchases a woman’s pantsuit from a bargain bin and wears the suit to work. Michael took some ribbing because of his fashion faux pas and that was the end of it... or so I thought. 

A few days ago, I was watching a rerun of a 2010 episode (“Nepotism”) that I had seen a few times in the past and for the first time, I noticed the following exchange between Michael and the office receptionist Erin Hannon (Ellie Kemper) when they discover an outgoing package that had been shipped.  

Erin: Oh my gosh – those are the pants you wanted to return to Talbots.

Michael: I'm reconsidering sending them back anyway. 

Erin. I'm sorry. Do you want to try them on again just to see...

Michael interrupted: I know they fit. It’s not about the fit.

Evidently, in this case, Michael intentionally shopped at Talbots, a specialty retailer of women’s clothing, shoes and fashion accessories. Go figure.

Wearing BGL

Jocelyn shopped, dined and took a short walk in the park. Of the thousands of people she saw in the city that day, she was the only person in a dress or a skirt.