This is the pronunciation we use when affectionately (and jealously) calling each other bitch for gloating about a weight loss triumph.
My wife went to the town dance last night in the small town from whence she came where we now reside. She looks very much like she did when she left 2 decades ago. Many people have remarked as such, to her effervescent glee.
Last night she wriggled into a pair of size seven Rockies. Tight jeans, small town, hot girl..what could be more American.
Congrats dear! ~"bitch!" under my breath.~
(I am having trouble getting into my 8's and I believe those 7's were actually mine!)
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Trying to re-gain my girlish figure.
Before I took my present job I got all the way down to squeezing into a size 6 occasionally. Tre-cute clothes in that range. I bulked up to probably a size 10, but keep wearing my eights.
I've been eating healthier since renting a little farm in the country and getting out of the dormitory.
Still it has been frustrating. I get no exercise to speak of on my long shifts. I eat because I am bored. I finally gave up my second sandwich and just go home on the bus hungry.
That helps I finally dropped 5 lbs. Don't know if its permanent though.
Adding more fruit and fiber, making myself drink lots of water. Water is my favorite diet tip.
At the moment the wife and I weigh about the same. I have more belly, she has more boobs.
I've been eating healthier since renting a little farm in the country and getting out of the dormitory.
Still it has been frustrating. I get no exercise to speak of on my long shifts. I eat because I am bored. I finally gave up my second sandwich and just go home on the bus hungry.
That helps I finally dropped 5 lbs. Don't know if its permanent though.
Adding more fruit and fiber, making myself drink lots of water. Water is my favorite diet tip.
At the moment the wife and I weigh about the same. I have more belly, she has more boobs.
Weirdly Furtive.
I have been for some time trying to re-channel my femme side.
I've been stealth dressing all along. This means wearing actual made-for-a-girl while still presenting in boy mode. Part of this is because I started pretty much only buying girl clothes, this is some-what because it amuses me and somewhat because as I lost weight I got down to female (thin) proportions anyway. Its hard to find pants that fit in the mens department anyway. Also women's used jeans are in much better condition than boys. I git a giggle when I see "boy-cut" in the label of my girls jeans.
Lately, I have been under-dressing as well. This means wearing girl clothes under boy (or boy-looking anyway) outerwear. On the one hand, I enjoy slipping something silky on under my jeans. On the other hand, no one sees it and when I do, I find I feel a bit silly. I'll be standing in a port-a-john at over a mile of elevation with the roar of hundreds of diesel powered horses idling outside as I look past my very male parts to some steel toed boots. I'll see the strip of mint green or pink or even fuscia hooked underneath while I relieve myself in a rush of relief having usually held it for far too long, and I think: "Well that looks silly."
What is stranger still is I have what is every gynophillic crossdresser's dream: a real living breathing sexy gen-u-wine girl who knows/accepts/even sometimes is turned on by my crossdressing. I have boxes of shoes here. (Sadly no prom dresses). I have skirts, blouses and a cute bandanna dress. But I don't dress.
Part of it is a time factor. 15 hours + from home to work to home.
But that doesn't tell the real story. When I do decide to slip on some panties, I wait till I can reasonably expect she won't walk in on me. For some reason I am back to worrying what it looks like to slip them up my legs and over my male-ness. I can't explain why. The truly weirdly furtive part is I simply put my panties in the laundry at the end of my long day, and my wife washes and returns them to my crossdressing drawer without comment. So it isn't that I am hiding, but for some reason I am back to doing this as a solitary pursuit. The really unexpected benefit of sharing my crossdressing last year was how close our relationship became after sharing that secret.
In an effort to somehow re-vitalize my crossdressing, I have even been toying with the idea of sexualizing my crossdressing, going so far as to join an adult site, that while interesting, seems to appeal to my male side not my femme side.
AAG has a current contest running about write a story involving a gift basket of adult toys. I have an entry pretty much written in my head but I can't make myself write it out in text.
In short it involves Barbara, a make-up and photo session that goes a little hard-core, tinged with light fem-dom elements. The Feeldoe being introduced makes me tighten up on many levels. Up-tight that is. As it turns out that isn't one of the products offered the closest offered in that basket is the Jaguar Harness with its accompanying ~blush~ dildo. That just smacks a little too much of taking-it-up-the-ass-gay for my emotional comfort level. Bear in mind that part of my reticence with coming out to myself as trans-gendered is that I don't find men sexually attractive and am uncomfortable with being categorized with their team.
dunno.
I've been stealth dressing all along. This means wearing actual made-for-a-girl while still presenting in boy mode. Part of this is because I started pretty much only buying girl clothes, this is some-what because it amuses me and somewhat because as I lost weight I got down to female (thin) proportions anyway. Its hard to find pants that fit in the mens department anyway. Also women's used jeans are in much better condition than boys. I git a giggle when I see "boy-cut" in the label of my girls jeans.
Lately, I have been under-dressing as well. This means wearing girl clothes under boy (or boy-looking anyway) outerwear. On the one hand, I enjoy slipping something silky on under my jeans. On the other hand, no one sees it and when I do, I find I feel a bit silly. I'll be standing in a port-a-john at over a mile of elevation with the roar of hundreds of diesel powered horses idling outside as I look past my very male parts to some steel toed boots. I'll see the strip of mint green or pink or even fuscia hooked underneath while I relieve myself in a rush of relief having usually held it for far too long, and I think: "Well that looks silly."
What is stranger still is I have what is every gynophillic crossdresser's dream: a real living breathing sexy gen-u-wine girl who knows/accepts/even sometimes is turned on by my crossdressing. I have boxes of shoes here. (Sadly no prom dresses). I have skirts, blouses and a cute bandanna dress. But I don't dress.
Part of it is a time factor. 15 hours + from home to work to home.
But that doesn't tell the real story. When I do decide to slip on some panties, I wait till I can reasonably expect she won't walk in on me. For some reason I am back to worrying what it looks like to slip them up my legs and over my male-ness. I can't explain why. The truly weirdly furtive part is I simply put my panties in the laundry at the end of my long day, and my wife washes and returns them to my crossdressing drawer without comment. So it isn't that I am hiding, but for some reason I am back to doing this as a solitary pursuit. The really unexpected benefit of sharing my crossdressing last year was how close our relationship became after sharing that secret.
In an effort to somehow re-vitalize my crossdressing, I have even been toying with the idea of sexualizing my crossdressing, going so far as to join an adult site, that while interesting, seems to appeal to my male side not my femme side.
AAG has a current contest running about write a story involving a gift basket of adult toys. I have an entry pretty much written in my head but I can't make myself write it out in text.
In short it involves Barbara, a make-up and photo session that goes a little hard-core, tinged with light fem-dom elements. The Feeldoe being introduced makes me tighten up on many levels. Up-tight that is. As it turns out that isn't one of the products offered the closest offered in that basket is the Jaguar Harness with its accompanying ~blush~ dildo. That just smacks a little too much of taking-it-up-the-ass-gay for my emotional comfort level. Bear in mind that part of my reticence with coming out to myself as trans-gendered is that I don't find men sexually attractive and am uncomfortable with being categorized with their team.
dunno.
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