Humor in a Jugular Vein

Humor in a Jugular Vein

Men

Stana staffing a booth at Hamvention (inspired by a comment from Elise)

I always had excellent times attending Hamvention en femme. In addition to enjoying the Hamvention experience, I also received an education and now I understand how men can be “sexist” from a woman’s perspective.

I did not have to live as a woman to figure out that men can be sexist. Living as a man amongst men, I discovered that fact a long time ago. Not all men are sexist, of course, but sadly, they constitute a lot of the male population.

Being sexist was not a good fit for me. I rejected the sexist’s life and lived my life my way, that is, the way that came natural to me. Turns out that “my way” was considered a feminine way of life by those who were keeping score. So be it.

During my early explorations out en femme, I avoided encounters with males whenever possible. But as I became more comfortable en femme, I began to accept encounters with males whenever they occurred.

Working a booth at an event like the Hamvention where approximately 85% of the attendees are male, it is impossible to avoid encounters with males. (I can count on one hand my encounters with females while working the booth this year and last.) It was a test of fire for this trans booth babe.

I guess I passed the test because now I encounter males without trepidation and understand how men can be considered sexist by the distaff side of the population.

Throughout Hamvention, I constantly noticed men checking me out. Some were surreptitious, while most just flat out stared. At this stage in my life, I find that flattering and affirming. But I imagine that the ogling can get old.

On the other hand, I also encountered gentlemen at Hamvention, who know how to treat a woman with respect – well at least they treated me with respect. And that works for me!

Wearing Boston Proper

Christer Lindarw

The Sound of Music

By Norah Blucher

Just before Christmas, I went on a weekend-long outing in Portland, Maine, and went to a holiday symphony and had a smashing time. It was not long after that I discovered one of my sisters from the group I sometime do outings with is very into classical music and wanted to travel there to see a show. I had to return to Portland for work, so four of us planned an evening at the symphony!

Breakfast at Tiffany’s Perhaps?

Audrey Hepburn has always been a style icon of mine, so when I needed to decide on an outfit for the symphony, I needed to look no further than her for inspiration. I often dress up in a business manner on work trips, but do not often get the chance to go full-scale formal. My goal is usually to blend in, but tonight I wanted to stand out and held nothing back with a knee-length velvet sheath, matching jacket with a satin tie waist and polished it off further with long velour gloves, a satin headband, my black fascinator and black suede court shoes. And not to let Audrey down, nothing but an elegant up do would suffice for my hair. As I looked in the mirror, I felt that Ms. Hepburn would approve!

For some reason though, I was just not completely feeling it. I’m not sure if it was the long day, the drive or perhaps, I just do not get out to formal occasions enough to have a gauge to go by. Whatever it was, I felt I looked alright for sure, but was just not wowed if you will. That feeling would soon change however…

It was rather warm that evening, so for the first time in many months I was able to go out without a coat, my dress jacket being enough, so off I went taking the lift down to the hotel lobby. As the lift doors opened, a chap about my age was waiting with his baggage to go up, and I believe he was looking at his phone, but he looked up and our gazes met and his eyes about popped out of his head! He gave me a once over and exclaimed, “Wow, you look beautiful!” 

I was a right bit surprised in the moment and I’m not sure I was what he expected to see on a weeknight in Maine, but I also found this to be one of the most sincere compliments I have ever gotten from a stranger – perhaps my first from a male. It was not as if he had seen me approach or rehearsed what to say. It was purely a knee-jerk reaction to a random and sudden passing with a stranger. I smiled graciously and thanked him, stepped off and blushed my way to the lobby to await my Lyft ride. Okay, so I guess I did have a bit of Audrey going on I guess.

A Show with Dinner, Too!

The Lyft ride was mostly unremarkable,and I tried engaging my driver in conversation commenting on the warm weather and what not and got barely a response. Just a quiet one I thought to myself. That was until we neared my destination. I had tipped him $3, which was the middle of the road 20% option I customarily do, unless I’ve gotten outstanding service or something. The driver looked at his phone and suddenly learned to speak, half jokingly complaining of my tip, saying he was worth the $5 tip!

I’m usually a good tipper, so I thought, but to be honest, I think the tipping culture has gotten a bit out of hand lately. Perhaps I was still elated from my compliment in the hotel, but I actually found humor in this, but did not show it. Acting a bit put off, I said he had been a good driver, but it was not like he opened the door for me, had barely said two words till now and had not even offered up a compliment or anything the whole ride!

He quickly countered that he had to drive all the way from downtown to the airport area to get me and bring me downtown,and that that was surely worth a $5 tip.

Conjuring the most quizzical look I could, I stared him down in the mirror a few seconds, mulling his comment over, before telling him that I found him to be quite a cheeky one for asking, but noted that I had admired his pluck and willingness to speak up, then told him I would up his tip to the requested $5. I did so and stepped out, heading off to the restaurant to meet the rest of the girls.

We had tried to reserve a table, but I guess everyone in the symphony hall area had the same idea that evening and we were lucky to get counter stools, but I was so glad we did. The restaurant only had a counter between the dining area and the kitchen, so though we did not have seating conducive to conversation, we had a front row seat to chefs preparing the meals. They were quite fancy to say the least and as we departed, I commented to one of the chefs how enjoyable it was to watch them work and that they all did a smashing job.

A Classic Never Gets Old

The four of us headed off to walk the few blocks over to the symphony hall, which was a bit treacherous to say the least. Portland is an old city in parts, with brick sidewalks that are not the greatest, especially in winter. I was glad my heels were a bit wider than standard and we all made it over without any medical mishaps, shortly before the show started.

I had mentioned this in my story about the Christmas symphony, but it is worth saying again just what an experience it is to go to one live. At a pop or rock concert, people are yelling, you can’t see a bloody thing half the time and the sound is usually just awful. You are there for the experience of going, not the music, in my opinion.

In a proper symphony hall, the music just fills the room. You can close your eyes and not even tell which direction the stage is in. You just sense the music in all directions and it is quite intoxicating. We were in the upper balcony section, but it still felt like we were on the stage. The first half of the show was Beethoven and though I’m not a connoisseur of classical music, I though they did a flawless job.

At intermission, one of the girls and myself got up to use the loo. Confronted with a long line, my friend turned back, but I did need to go and waited taking my place in the ladies line. It was actually a very efficient process as they had “traffic cops” in the doorways noting when a stall opened and ushering in the next patron. The other ladies were chatty enough and before I knew it, I was near the front.

I noted there was one entrance and then you could either enter the ladies’ room or the men’s room. And off to the side, there was one all-gender handicap single room, which they seemed to be reserving for ladies. I had one lady in front of me and as someone exited the single room, I watched curiously to see what they would do, half expecting them to usher me in there. I was proved wrong though, as they told the next lady in line to go in there and two seconds later, ushered me into the main ladies’ room noting the third stall was open.

For all the fuss made over bathrooms lately, I was not sure what to expect and I have never been in such a crowded ladies’ room, but I must say, no one seemed to care. No sneers, no comments, just do your business, wash your hands and make room for the next one. As I exited, one older lady heading in stopped me, said she had seen me in line and wanted to tell me how lovely I looked, expressing that she hoped whoever I came with was taking me out after the show because I looked too good to just go home.

That was twice now! I’ve received many compliments before; my coat, my skirt, shoes, my makeup once even, etc., but this was the first time I’ve gotten so much attention from strangers on the whole package. Heading out, I was not sure what to expect. A Saturday night holiday show was something I expected to be formal, but though I knew I’d be a bit overdressed for a Tuesday night mid-winter, I was not sure if I’d be taken for elegant or a tart. Most ladies were dressed in the slacks, sweater and scarf sort of deal, though a handful were formal, and it was so nice to be noticed for that. 

I did note too that much of the attention I got was from older ladies, to my surprise. It was an older crowd in general, but it made me wonder if some of them remembered when something like this was a big deal and everyone would have been dressed to the nines. I did have a right vintage vibe going on too, lol.

The second half of the symphony was all Strauss and was just as memorable as the first half. I had wanted to get a picture at the symphony, but they had asked everyone not to and afterwards we tried, but the lighting up top was horrid, so we made our way down to the exit.

The After Party

It was quite hot inside the hall, so stepping outside again, I had to put my jacket back on, but the cold air felt so nice. There was quite a crowd outside as well, and three or four separate women commented that they loved my fascinator! A few did say they liked my hat, though I suppose “fascinator” is not exactly in common vernacular with many and with the headband, I guess it did look a bit like a hat.

We headed a few blocks away to the hotel where the rest of the girls were staying for a bit of drink and conversation, as we had not had much chance to chat the whole evening. There was a lounge in the lobby, but one of the girls found out there was another one on the top floor with a view of the harbour. It was quite smashing and had a very old-time speakeasy feel, complete with leather couches and tables.

We chatted ’til they closed, catching up and discussing our next outing a whole week and a half away, lol. When they finally booted everyone out, the girls escorted me down to the lobby and waited with me until my ride came. I sort of suspect, like me, they did not want the night to end. I did have to work in the morning though, so did have to bid them farewell, but it was truly one of the more memorable outings I have had.

Afterthoughts

As I prepared for bed, I thought of how, aside from the femme factor, we in many ways live life with a different perspective than most. A dinner out, a show, a movie, even a shopping day. These were once a big deal to most that have largely been taken for granted. For those of us who do not live life en femme full time, it is still a big deal when we get to go out and experience the world as women. Even if you have done them as male, you experience them again for the first time as female.

In my case, some of these things are literally for the first time. I was always one who resisted formal things as male. I had no desire to dress up and went about as dressed down as I could to anything. I had to laugh at myself, for now I sometimes buy a nice dress and then go out of my way for an excuse to wear it!

So that is it for now loves and I hope you enjoyed! I’ve not written much lately as I've had a lot going on, but it has not been for a lack of getting out. I’ve actually been up to some not so typical femulations lately, so stay tuned for that when I’ve a chance to write them down.

Until then questions or comments are most welcome below or email me at nblucher at-sign proton.me.

Wearing Boston Proper

Deepak Subramanya femulating in the Indian film Mr. Rani.

Did My IQ Drop or Did I Just Become a Woman?

By Monika Kowalska

When I transitioned into a woman, I knew there would be challenges. I braced myself for the awkward stares, the whispered gossip and the occasional invasive question from co-workers who thought HR policies were more like suggestions. But what I didn’t expect? That my transition would apparently cause a sudden and catastrophic drop in my intelligence or at least, that’s how my workplace started treating me.

Before transition, I was considered sharp, competent and maybe even a little intimidating. My opinions were valued, my decisions trusted. But the moment I returned as Monika, something strange happened. Suddenly I was getting interrupted in meetings. Emails explaining basic concepts flooded my inbox. And in the biggest plot twist of all, some of the very same men who used to ask for my advice on complex problems were now explaining my own job to me.

At first, I thought maybe I was imagining things. Maybe I was just being sensitive. But then I came across stories from other women from my department and I realized this is just standard operating procedure for a woman at work.

Take the story of a specialist, who walked into a meeting only to be assumed as the "note taker" because, obviously, the only reason a woman would be in a room full of specialists is to transcribe their brilliance. Or the one where a female specialist made a suggestion, got ignored and then watched in horror as a male colleague repeated her idea five minutes later to thunderous applause.

The funniest part? My actual skills hadn’t changed. I was still the same professional with the same experience making the same solid decisions. But now that I had the audacity to be a woman, my competence was suddenly up for debate.

Luckily, not everything turned sour. My female co-workers have been an incredible source of support. They were the first to welcome me with open arms, the first to whisper, “Yeah, that guy explains everything to us, too,” and the first to share their survival tips for navigating a workplace that often underestimates us. It turns out there’s a sisterhood in the struggle and if there’s one silver lining, it’s the camaraderie of women looking out for each other.

Then, of course, there’s the ongoing workplace scandal: my skirt. One inch shorter than usual and suddenly I’m a walking HR violation. If I show a little confidence and dress more boldly, it’s like I set off an emergency alarm. “Is that appropriate for work?” whispers someone who has never once commented on a man’s golf shorts in the summer. I mean, I’ve seen men wear flip-flops to the office, but sure, let’s talk about my skirt.

And then, there’s the cherry on top: entertaining clients. Normally, company dinners are just that, dinners. But throw in a few drinks and suddenly some customers mistake me for part of the entertainment. The first time it happened, I froze. I worried about upsetting the client, hurting business, making waves. But after talking to my female colleagues, I realized something: if a customer thinks their inappropriate behavior is acceptable, maybe we don’t need their business. Now, I handle these situations with a polite, but firm reminder that I’m here for business, not to be their after-dinner amusement.

Do I let this get me down? Absolutely not. Do I wish I could wear a little red button labeled “STOP MANSPLAINING?” Maybe. But here’s the thing, I would transition all over again, workplace discrimination be damned. Because being treated unfairly for being a woman is still a thousand times better than living a life where I wasn’t me. And if I have to fight for my seat at the table, then so be it. I’ll just make sure to sit in the best chair with the best view, while sipping the coffee that someone else had to fetch for a change.

Since 2013, Monika has been interviewing trans people in her blog, The Heroines of My Life. Click here to see who she has interviewed lately.

Wearing Ann Taylor

Tia

Bras, Girdles and Birthdays

Rago, my favorite purveyor of shapewear is having a sale this week. Buy One, Get One 40% Off is the deal. Use code MARBOGO at checkout before the sale ends on March 13. (I receive nothing from this mention – I just love their products and want to pass along the good news.)

When I was just getting started in all this, I was fascinated with the undergarments that women  (specifically my mother) wore. Since they were hidden under overgarments, there was a mystery to them. They certainly were nothing like the undergarments that the boy (me) wore! And when I began my crossdressing experiment, bras and girdles were a critical part of my wardrobe (don’t leave home without it).

Thing is Ma or Pa never said much about my hobby. They never confronted me that they knew what I was doing when I was home alone, but I think they knew. At least, I think my mother knew. Either that or she believed that crossdressing gremlins were getting into her stuff, breaking bra clasps and girdle zippers and running her nylons. Maybe she hoped I would outgrow my hobby. (Sorry, not yet, Mom!)

Finally, thank you all who wished me a “happy birthday” on Saturday. With my recent fall on the ice, I am definitely feeling my age (74), so I really appreciate all your positive thoughts. (I am still hurting and don’t expect to be wearing a new Rago girdle for a few more weeks!)

UPDATE: I am hooked watching the bald eagles cam on Big Bear Lake. The third egg hatched early Sunday. Hard to believe that someday those three small balls of fur will be magnificent birds like their parents. (Click here to watch the eagle show.) 

Wearing Bebe

Jonny Beauchamp femulating on television’s Katy Keene.

Stuff 62: Holes in My Head

JJ Got Pierced Ears!

By J.J. Atwell  

After pondering this for quite some time - measured in years - I finally went and got my ears pierced. This ticks off one of the resolutions I made for 2025 that you may have read about in the January 13 installment of Stuff. 

Why did I do it? Because I’ve envied all the different earring choices that are available for those with pierced ears. Yes, I accumulated a small collection of clip-on earrings that worked good enough for my outfits. But the world is so much bigger and there are so many more options. 

Did It Hurt?

Yes, there was a quick moment of pain which passed quickly. I’ve had worse flu shots. The whole process was actually pretty interesting. I went to a tattoo and piercing shop to get this done. I had searched on line for shops near me and looked for those that were highly-rated. I was going to be in the neighborhood of a couple of those shops while out running other errands and decided to check if they did walk-ins.

After filling out a short form with basic information (name, address, phone, any allergies, etc.), my tech came out to introduce herself and show me the options for my first studs. I selected a set that was titanium with a diamond like head on it. Nothing fancy. She went off to sterilize the studs and her equipment leaving me to play on my phone for a short while. Then it was into the tech’s work station where she explained the process and spent some time marking where the piercing would be to be sure it was even. She gave me a mirror to see how it would look and I gave the go ahead. 

After throughly cleaning the piercing site and unwrapping the sterilized tools, the moment had arrived. I’m not at all clear on just how it was done as I purposely occupied my mind by looking at all of the artwork and objects hung on the walls of the establishment. I’m sure all that distraction is there for just that reason. 

Before I knew it she said something like there will be a pinch and sure enough there was. And then it was over. It took longer for you to read this than the actual piercing took. The tech explained the necessary aftercare, gave it to me in writing and a solution to be applied to the piercing over the next few weeks. I was advised not to remove the studs for four months to be sure the holes healed properly. 

What about Guy Mode?

Will people notice the piercings when in guy mode? So far all I’ve worn is the simple studs I got for the piercing. In about a week, nobody has commented. Oddly enough, when my grown children came over they had to be specifically queued to look at my ears before they noticed. No adverse reaction, just mild amusement/interest and then onto other subjects. 

I’ll Be Back

I’ll be back with more Stuff in the next installment. Comments are welcome either here on the blog or by email to Jenn6nov at-sign gmail dot com. JJ is always looking for more stuff so let me know what you would like to read about.

Wearing Ann Taylor

Janek Traczyk femulating Nancy Sinatra on Polish television’s Your Face Sounds Familiar.
Click here to view this femulation on YouTube.

Clothes Make the "Man"

Today is International Women's Day

Today is International Women's Day. My post from last year says it all.

As we prepare to celebrate International Women’s Day, our resolve to keep pushing for gender equality is stronger than ever. And we won’t stop until girls and women are equal everywhere.

That’s because equality is her birthright, enshrined in the UN Charter, but it isn’t her reality. Despite some progress, there is no place or part of life where a girl or woman has the equal rights or opportunities as a boy or man.

As a male woman, I am very sympathetic to these goals. Though some would say that I have “male privilege,” I would argue that male women are treated worse than cisgender women and I yearn to achieve the same equality sought by women.

Even living much of my life disguised as a male, my natural femininity marked me as less than a man and I was treated accordingly by both males and females. 

Living as a male woman is an improvement. Living as my true self, females seem to embrace me as someone who had joined their team. On the other hand, some males treat me even more poorly than they did when I was in my male disguise. I am sure that all male women have had similar experiences and also long for gender equality.

The Good Old Days

One year ago, I posted the following:

    Joe Biden tells trans Americans in his State of the Union address: “I have your back!” 

 What a difference a year makes! It seems more like a century.

Wearing LEAU

Girl and boy on prom date

Not getting any younger

Old age sucks and then you die!

I slipped on the ice and my left side took the brunt of the fall landing on a landscape timber AKA railroad tie. I bruised ribs in the process and have been hurting ever since. 

No femulating for me – I can’t even get seated in the Subaru’s driver’s seat comfortably not to mention squeezing into a panty girdle. 

The healing process has been slow, which I attribute to old age. My housewife chores have been put on the back burner, so I am just sitting around watching the television and browsing the Internet. 

Click here to see a streaming video that I can’t stop watching. 

Enjoy!

Wearing Ann Taylor

Alec Baldwin femulating on television’s Saturday Night Live.

Letter from Lech Walesa

Former President of Poland Lech Walesa wrote the following letter to Trump.

Your Excellency, Mr. President,

We watched the report of your conversation with the President of Ukraine, Volodymyr Zelensky, with fear and distaste. We find it insulting that you expect Ukraine to show respect and gratitude for the material assistance provided by the United States in its fight against Russia. Gratitude is owed to the heroic Ukrainian soldiers who shed their blood in defense of the values of the free world. They have been dying on the front lines for more than 11 years in the name of these values and the independence of their homeland, which was attacked by Putin’s Russia.

We do not understand how the leader of a country that symbolizes the free world cannot recognize this.

Our alarm was also heightened by the atmosphere in the Oval Office during this conversation, which reminded us of the interrogations we endured at the hands of the Security Services and the debates in Communist courts. Prosecutors and judges, acting on behalf of the all-powerful communist political police, would explain to us that they held all the power while we held none. They demanded that we cease our activities, arguing that thousands of innocent people suffered because of us. They stripped us of our freedoms and civil rights because we refused to cooperate with the government or express gratitude for our oppression. We are shocked that President Volodymyr Zelensky was treated in the same manner.

The history of the 20th century shows that whenever the United States sought to distance itself from democratic values and its European allies, it ultimately became a threat to itself. President Woodrow Wilson understood this when he decided in 1917 that the United States must join World War I. President Franklin Delano Roosevelt understood this when, after the attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, he resolved that the war to defend America must be fought not only in the Pacific but also in Europe, in alliance with the nations under attack by the Third Reich.

We remember that without President Ronald Reagan and America’s financial commitment, the collapse of the Soviet empire would not have been possible. President Reagan recognized that millions of enslaved people suffered in Soviet Russia and the countries it had subjugated, including thousands of political prisoners who paid for their defense of democratic values with their freedom. His greatness lay, among other things, in his unwavering decision to call the USSR an “Empire of Evil” and to fight it decisively. We won, and today, the statue of President Ronald Reagan stands in Warsaw, facing the U.S. Embassy.

Mr. President, material aid—military and financial—can never be equated with the blood shed in the name of Ukraine’s independence and the freedom of Europe and the entire free world. Human life is priceless; its value cannot be measured in money. Gratitude is due to those who sacrifice their blood and their freedom. This is self-evident to us, the people of Solidarity, former political prisoners of the communist regime under Soviet Russia.

We call on the United States to uphold the guarantees made alongside Great Britain in the 1994 Budapest Memorandum, which established a direct obligation to defend Ukraine’s territorial integrity in exchange for its relinquishment of nuclear weapons. These guarantees are unconditional—there is no mention of treating such assistance as an economic transaction.

Signed,

Lech Wałęsa, former political prisoner, President of Poland