May
21
That thing in my mouth is called a Hellbone.
It is a specialty of a favorite restaurant of mine consisting of a perfectly tender, falling-off-the-bone slow-barbecued pork rib – the “bone” – slathered in what they call Inner Beauty Hot Sauce (a painfully spicy sauce made from habanero peppers – the “hell” part ).
Eating one of these is a sublime pain-pleasure experience; you sweat and pant, but you love it.
As I was just finishing, our waiter came over and said, “So how was everything, ladies?”
I looked up at him, my face covered in sauce, my lips burning, my brow glistening with perspiration, flecks of cornbread in my hair, and reached for a napkin. “It was wonderful,” I said, “but I don’t look like much of a lady at the moment.”
(Uh-oh, did I really say that out loud in public?!)
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May
20
Last time, I spoke about trade-offs that I make in my effort to be capable of assuming both masculine and feminine roles.
In a conversation with a friend, who confided that it took her 3 hours to get ready each and every time she went out, it hit me there are some compromises I am simply not willing to make.
I am not judging her – she’s totally fabulous, in fact! But, the truth immediately hit home that among the many things I am willing to change, give up or massage in order to allow Janie to flourish in my life, a 3-hour lead time was nowhere to be found.
I am just the girl-next-door… ok, with a twist… and maybe some exotic spice added. The point is that I am just regular people, and I want to be able to be who I am any day, every day. It is not a performance; it’s not an event; it’s just life.
Read More»May
19
I spoke last time about my concern about getting a bruise while playing hockey as a guy.
But, that is just a little part of the bargain I have made with the devil.
As I live on both sides of the gender divide, I am finding more and more that compromises have to be made on each side in order to allow the other side to thrive.
For the most part, the compromises on Janie’s part are about the things I don’t do to myself – like hormones and breasts and facial feminization.
Though I never really quite thought it all through in advance, my guy side has been making compromises that are becoming all the more obvious as I go on.
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May
18
I play hockey. No, not Janie, him! Yes, him – the guy that I am.
I have always been fairly good at sports, and quite competitive, and I proudly love and play Canada’s game – hockey.
But, there I was last time out, when a guy took a shot that hit me in the ankle and smarted like the ever-lovin’ dickens! And, what do you know, but the only thought running amok in my head as I crumpled to the ice in pain was, “Oh, no! I am going to have a bruise; how will I ever be able to wear that skirt and heels next weekend?”
Now, it didn’t take me long to become more realistic in my thinking, but it was no less distressing, “Sheesh, this really f***’in hurts… I might not even be able to walk in heels at all!”
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May
17
Thinking back on my just ended Vegas vacation with the Wildside girls, I always marvel at how easy it is for me to meet and connect with people there. It is all the more surprising because I have a terrible time of it in my regular life.
I think we all know that past a certain age, it is difficult to make friends; people are set in their ways, have their guard up and often simply just have enough people to deal with in their lives.
But, I have noticed that t-girls are different – at least the ones I have met at Wildside and even at other t-get-togethers.
The explanation is fairly straightforward.
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May
11
What do you get when you cram 30 sexy, dancing, drinking, flirting, partying tgirls into a bus filled with liquor and ice and music?
Well, you get Wildside in a Bottle!
This is Wildside mobile, Wildside concentrate! All you’ve come to love about Wildside in a convenient travel pak!
The bait to lure us onto the bus was the promise of picture-taking opportunities; it is well known that none of us can resist having our photos taken…
We had stops at the “Welcome to Las Vegas” sign, the Cosmopolitan Hotel and downtown on Fremont Street, where they collected refurbished neon signs from vintage Las Vegas into a museum of sorts.
There were a lot of nice backdrops for pictures in the Cosmopolitan, but it was a pretty long walk to get to them. And, by the time we made it downtown, few of the girls were willing to undertake another long trek in 5-inch heels. Growing pains – this was the first try at it; we will do better next time.
Anyway, photography, night and neon make for a challenging combination and I, for one, got very few memorable photos, despite taking the effort to actually bring along a tripod and a DSLR.
But, it was never really about the pics anyway. Like everything else we do, it was about the love!
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May
08
As I am going to meet my girlfriends after a long time apart, I decided some pampering was in order. So, I treated myself to my first ever pedicure, and added a manicure (no nail color – for the benefit of 
the customs and immigration officials, as well as the airline employees who, in Canada, are not supposed to allow women with an M on their ID to board a plane).
It was a wonderful experience.
The place I chose had really great massage chairs in which to sit while the beautician cleaned, softened and massaged my feet and legs, followed by attending to the specific
matter of doing my nails. A similarly sensual experience attached to my manicure.
When I was done, I was prettified and relaxed. All in all, a good start to my trip!
May
06
I shouldn’t really get a kick out of confusing the poor uninitiated, but for some reason, I do.
I was in a suburban restaurant the other day, totally in guy mode, when the need arose to use the loo. Of course, I went to the men’s room.
As I was standing at the sink, washing my hands, the door (which was slightly behind me and to my left) opened and a man came forward. I turned to look and saw him stop in his tracks as he took in the sight of me, look back at the sign on the door, then back at me.
Then, he stepped back and let the door close.
A few seconds later, the door opened again, and I turned to him and said with a friendly smile, “Yes, you’re in the right place.” I paused, aware that he still wasn’t completely buying it, and reassured him, “And, so am I.”
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May
04
As regular followers have no doubt noticed, I have not been posting with my usual regularity recently.
Ah, the blogger’s life…
In the years that I have been writing this blog, I have never lacked for things to write about – such is the nature of the wondrous self-discovery that is part of the t-girl life.
And, to be honest, there are no shortage of ideas rolling around in my empty large head (too large for my body, if you ask me) at the moment.
The problem for me has been quite the opposite. I have had so many thoughts and emotions flitting in and out of my consciousness lately, that I feel like a kitten among mice running around and birds flying about… I can’t focus long enough on one to pin it down.
Read More»Apr
28
Well, another of my friends has just undergone boob surgery, and each time this happens, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if I were to go that route.
It sure would be nice to have a (more) feminine chest, that’s sure.
But, each of us has her own journey to follow.
Boobies would certainly pose problems in my male life – a life I still hold dear. I would never get really big ones anyway, and so they could be hidden, but still…
But, the more important issue for me is that I am still struggling with the extent and nature of my femininity. Currently, I take great pleasure in my ability to be convincingly feminine without surgery or hormones, and, in fact, I consider that to be my gender identity – that I am naturally able to assume the role of both or either, without the need for drugs or implants.
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