Men Being Men

A couple of days ago, I asked a question about the way crossdressers portray themselves photographically.  Today, I will offer an opinion, which you may infer from the title.

I have made mention in the past of men’s inclination to represent themselves by their sexual organs, often to the exclusion of their faces.  Oh, they take pictures of it from every conceivable angle and then share it with the world as if it were the most amazing thing.

If you’ve got something, show it off: my car is faster than yours; my drill is more powerful; my cellphone is newer, etc.

Crossdressing doesn’t seem to change this:  my heels are higher than yours, look what I can fit in my… (I just can’t say it), and so on…

Men get right down to the nuts and bolts.  As in, “I am crossdressing so, here’s my dress… here’s my ass…  got it?” 

The thing of it is that imposing male behavior into the expression of femininity is highly discordant.  To me, it is not unlike imposing one’s fingernails onto the blackboard.

Being a man is great; I know this from personal experience.  And, God love ‘em, boys will be boys!  Men have a wonderful way of relating to each other, and bring their specifically masculine attitudes to the table when relating to women; I wouldn’t have it any other way – not as a woman, nor as a man.

But, in my view, portraying femininity requires a change of behavior.  Crossdressers who continue to act as men while dressed as women obviously do not feel that way.

And so, quite opposite to my worry, expressed in day before yesterday’s post, the prevalence of this sort of behavior shouldn’t cause to me worry that I might be like them.  Rather, given how much it bothers me, it should prove to me that I am quite different. 

Not better, just different.

Ahhh… I feel much better now.

Me and the Jacaranda Tree

While you all ruminate of yesterday’s question, I will try to entertain you with a little photo of my own (click the photo to enlarge it):

Seeing Ourselves in Others

Every day, I get people friending me on flickr, and when I go to check them out, I find that a disturbing number of them seem to have gone through a surprisingly similar routine in their self-photography.

What they seem to do is take a few pictures of themselves facing the camera, with their heads cuts off, and then they turn around and bend over for the camera.

A good number of them repeat the process in panties and bra, or in the nude.

And then, having had the opportunity to see what this all looks like on their computers, they decide it would be a good idea to post it online for everyone to see.

I am forced to ask myself, “Why?” 

Is it lack of imagination?  lack of self-respect?  Or is there some secret code of self-promotion or mating call of which I am unaware?

It is unattractive.  It is in no way titillating.  And it is exasperating.

But for me, the worst of it is, that it is disappointing and embarrassing.  Yes, I am personally embarrassed by it, and this is why:

…because it is so common. 

If one person did this, I could dismiss it as their problem.  However, having seen so many examples of this, I have to conclude it is our problem.

Quite aside from the image problem it presents for our community, I am concerned that it belies a common defect that I might share, that we all might share.

Any thoughts?

People Pleasing

Amazing!

I wrote in my recent post, Masculine Photos, about my observations on the popularity of certain of my photos that I felt betrayed my masculinity – much to my chagrin, mind you.

Well, that post was the most popular one I have ever done!

So, history repeats… and confirms my impressions…

Apparently, photos of myself all prettied-up, wearing nothing but lingerie, a tux jacket and heels doesn’t hold a candle to a strong jaw and maybe a slight crease where it doesn’t belong.

Go figure…

And, so I sit here trying to figure out what to do about it in terms of offering material that satisfies the most people.

I don’t really like seeing my guy self in Janie, but I am at peace with it.  Obviously, there’s lots of folks who prefer it.

So help me out, then.  If you tell me what you want, you’re much more likely to get it.

Play or Pass

[…continued from Punctured Charm…]

I was getting on just fine with this guy I met at my fave bar.

Physical attraction? Check.  Personal connection? Check.  Mutual desire? Check.

These are the rocket-fuel of an affair, no doubt.

Still, there are always practical matters to consider as well, such as having prepared oneself properly, having condoms and other supplies, etc. 

I rarely come prepared unless I have reason to believe I am going to meet someone I already know, but for some reason, as I was getting ready this time, I decided to toss everything into my purse, even though I kept telling myself there’s no way I am going to use this stuff with someone I just met. 

Funny, that.

“C’mon, let’s go,” he said.

In the course of our conversation, he had described some of the things he wanted to do to me and the way he would treat me, and what he would have me do to him, and it was exactly as if he was reading my fantasies to me.  (Perhaps not the classiest thing in the world to say to me at our first meeting, but it sure made me awfully hot to know…)

I tossed around the possibilities in my mind.  Handsome, sexy, nice guy whose idea of sex was exactly what I wanted…

I really wanted him…

(Conclusion, next week.)

Masculine Photos

It is not lost on me that some of the photos I have posted have revealed more masculinity than a girl would really like.

I have deleted the vast majority of them on photosharing sites, like flickr, but they remain on my blog – because my audience here gets preferential treatment, don’t you know!

I reproduce here two of the ones I have left up – I am not crazy about them, but at least they don’t make me cringe.

The thing of it is that people seem to really respond to those photos!

I would say that the response is often better than to photos that show my best feminine looks. 

A hint of masculinity just somehow seems to resonate with viewers – and I get tons of views and comments as a result.

One photo that I posted on flickr seemed to show just the very slightest hint of a silhouette of my genitals under my clothes – I completely didn’t notice it, but viewers picked up on it right away.  It is one of my most popular photos. I am not sure if I am proud of it – given that it is a shamelessly sexual picture, so I have decided not to reproduce it here. (If you do go and dig it out of my flickr account, please do let me know what you think of it.)

Another, I will not reproduce – you can go find it in past posts on this blog if you wish, but I’m a bit embarrassed about it – shows me in my girly PJs, with a very masculine face. I had woken up that morning, probably had some minor facial hair growth, no makeup at all. It had nearly 5,000 hits before I deleted it.

There seems to be something alluring about a man in women’s clothes – or about the mix of genders – that hits home most profoundly when the mix is obvious.  It is not enough that you know I am not a genetic girl; somehow, betraying my masculinity visually within a feminine image is the most alluring!

Interesting…

Change of Attitude

Here are a couple of shots with a change of attitude from the photos included with the last post.  I tried; I really did…

The Guy Inside

I have often wondered whether I am being unduly generous with myself in allowing that I might be two spirits in one body.

But then, I have an experience that reinforces the truth of that assertion.

I was out and about yesterday, doing my thing in a pretty patterned skirt, pink tights and a white top – and yet I felt every bit a man. It was a bizarre feeling of being trapped inside these feminine clothes, and having to force every girly action. I was totally pretending.

I was feeling strong and somewhat aggressive and practical; not the slightest bit soft.

I remember saying to myself, “These stupid shoes – how am I supposed to get anywhere in these!?”  And, “Why am I doing this?”

It was almost like a clichéd scene from a sitcom where a guy thinks he’s having a bad dream but then realizes he is at work dressed in women’s clothes…

I have developed a bit of a female life, so sometimes I have to be a woman whether that’s my mood or not.  And, as you can see, sometimes, it is quite uncomfortable for me.

But, feeling my male side bridling at the restrictions imposed by being Janie only reinforces my belief that I really do have two sides. 

When my feminine spirit is active, the very things that irritated me yesterday are instead a source of pleasure.

I accept that it is going to take me longer to walk where I am going, and I revel in the beauty of my shoes and the wonderful way they make my body move as I walk.

My movements and actions feel graceful and natural; my interactions with others aren’t restrained or forced.  There is no pretense.

At those times, the man inside me is sleeping – and bothering no one.  (Oops, did I really say that?)

No Longer a Virgin

Yesterday, it finally happened.

I don’t normally kiss and tell, but as there really wasn’t any kissing involved, I feel somewhat free to tell all.

Yes, I met a man.  We talked for a while, and I found him intelligent and forthright.  Long story short, he gave the impression that I could count on seeing him in the future pretty much whenever I wanted.

Having built a rapport based on trust, I allowed him to get me inebriated.  Pretty soon, he got me out of my clothes, and then took out his enormous um… equipment… and, slowly but surely, penetrated me.

By the time he was all the way in, I had actually fallen asleep.  It seems he had drugged me…

…which isn’t all that surprising considering this all happened in a medical clinic.

I only bring up this sordid incident to make a public service announcement:

Get a colonoscopy when you get to “that age.”  Colon cancer is a deadly disease that is entirely preventable.

A lot of people are put off by the prospect of having something stuck in their outbox.  (Then again, some of us are just begging for it. )

No matter; it is not what either expects. 

This is my experience:

You get into a hospital gown and lie on a bed.  They give you an IV and one of those oxygen thingies in your nose, ask you to roll onto your side and count back from 10.  You get to 9, maybe 8 and then you wake up, feeling like you just had a nice night’s rest, get dressed and go on your merry way.  The whole thing takes about an hour.

There is no feeling that anything has been done at all. 

So, if you’re due, do it… no ifs, ands or butts about it.

Just Add Gender

In response to Friday’s post, Bearded Lady, I received a thought-provoking comment that serves as the foundation for this post.  (Thanks again, Shannon.)

Here is the comment:

We may say we like or enjoy being both genders yet we go to incredible lengths to feminize that body that must split those gender roles. Hair and beard removal… pierced ears, maybe polished toe nails and daintily manicured hands. We let our hair grow, pushing the limits of societal acceptance for whatever situation we’re in.
All of this is wonderful for our femme side, but leaves a very feminized version of “male” for the times we say we “enjoy being male also”. Isn’t the focus still female? Don’t we then approach our male side from a very female perspective?

Those of us who want to be male sometimes and female others have to make compromises. 

As I started out being all male (so to speak), trying to be female neither looked nor felt terribly authentic back then.  I had to add more femininity to my physical makeup and manner; I had to move much closer to the imaginary line that divides the genders. 

From that point, I could make the choice of gender presentation much more successfully. 

Each person will decide where their own middle is. In thinking about getting breasts, for instance, my thought process would be whether I am more comfortable being required to create the temporary illusion of breasts for my female side, or having to hide my chest for my male side. For now, at least, the former seems so much easier to me and strikes the right balance in letting me be my male side with less restriction.

Breasts or not, I still will never look entirely feminine, and now I do not look entirely masculine either.  That seems to me the right place for someone who wants to be both.  You do what you can to push one side or the other as the need arises, but you are capable of both.  You put on a dress and heels… or a suit and tie.  You add gender markers where you can, cover the opposite ones, and turn yourself into the most authentic representation you can muster of a woman… or a man.

So, the answer to the question is, “No.  The focus is not female, nor am I approaching my male side from a female perspective.”  I have walked from one side of the road to the center line, and from there, whichever way I wish to go, I turn my back on the other. 

Punctured Charm

[continued from My Tall Drink of Water…]

I have found that online interactions are very helpful in breaking the ice for an ultimate in-person meeting.  It mitigates the awkwardness of approaching someone or being approached by a stranger, and gives you some context in terms of conversation.

I had just met this guy in a bar – but then again, we already kinda knew each other a bit from our online interaction.

As I sat there in the bar talking with him, I was enjoying myself even though I really had no idea what I was getting myself into.

I continue to be fascinated by the things that strike me so differently as a woman as opposed to my other self.  For example, I could literally feel my attraction to him grow stronger when I realized from a story he was telling that he was a smart and sensible man – or at least capable of being one at times.

I guess it made me feel like I was with a sane person with good common sense, and that made me feel safer.

But, his charm was regularly punctuated (perhaps the better word is punctured) by incorrigibly naughty words, crude actions or insensitive behavior – perhaps his way of making sure that I wouldn’t be inclined toward any sort of emotional relationship. 

Truth is, I had no delusions of any possibility of a relationship with him, other than perhaps a sexual one.

And, I was fine with that… so I ignored what I took to be his attempts to emphasize that fact.

But I nevertheless told him that I found his intelligence and personality more attractive and interesting than the size of his equipment. He wasn’t all that happy to hear that – “Whatever.” – but he should have been, because there is no way I would ever consider sleeping with someone where the reverse was true.

And, despite what he may have been telling himself, we did have a personal connection – highly sexualized, perhaps, but personal nonetheless.

The distinction between wanting a relationship and needing a personal connection as a context for sex may be lost on many men, but this girl was quickly coming to understand it, and herself.

All good so far.

(More next week…)

Winter, Yay!

I decided on a Back-to-School look for our first Back-to-Winter day.

Forced Fem

I wrote the following on my profile on another site:

“I love being a t-girl. As such, I don’t consider it demeaning, or somehow ‘a step down’ to go from being a man to a woman; rather, it is a joy and a pleasure! Implication: I don’t have any interest in forced feminization…”

I thought I’d repeat it here for a couple of reasons.

First, I think it’s a good thought, and one that might not be readily apparent to many people.

More to the point, I am sure there are those who will argue with what I am about to say – and I would like to hear their take on this.

I know that forced feminization is a popular fantasy among CDs and perhaps other males who don’t consider themselves CDs. But, to me, the implication of being forced to become female against your will implies that it is somehow a lesser existence and that making a man into a woman is a way to degrade him.

I do allow that there are fantasies that seemingly include forced feminization that are really fantasies about something else, where gender change is merely incidental to the main thing the person is being forced to do. I cannot elaborate beyond that for a PG audience.

But, that aside, I just feel like the concept of forced feminization is incompatible with the way I feel about being Janie. It is the last thing I would have to be forced to do.

Bearded Lady

Today was my first appointment with an electrologist.

Nothing earth-shattering, just another expensive way to help myself look more feminine.  Laser has eliminated over 90% of the hair on my face and body, but I want the rest gone, especially on my face.

Better start saving my pennies…

Anyhoo, the appointment necessitated my doing something I haven’t done before – going on the subway during the day, and without having touched my facial hair with razor or tweezer for 2 days. 

It wasn’t too bad.  Like I said, almost all the hair is gone, and what is left is primarily grey or blond, but still – no foundation and a hairy face – and not even in the privacy of my own car!

Didn’t seem to matter, thank goodness.

Guys still opened doors for me, and no one gawked. 

Life goes on. (Phewww!)

Looking in the Mirror

It is an inevitable challenge of being a heterosexual t-girl to decipher why it is that you like what you see in the mirror, to decipher between your internal self and your external self.

As a non-T guy, you can look in the mirror and think that you look good, and that’s as far as it goes.

But, as a trans-woman, your impression is clouded by the simple fact that your guy side will be attracted to your female presentation.

So, when you look in the mirror, are you a woman admiring herself just as any single-gendered person might?

Or, are you a guy, being turned on by that woman in the mirror, whom you know you can have, who you know will do the things you want…

Oldie But Goodie

Just a bit of an older photo of me to compare to recent ones.  Goodness, my hair is so short and dark.

Tuesday Starts with a T

Tuesdays are now T-Girl Tuesdays at a bar I have been frequenting for the past few years. 

They have always been accepting of me, even when I was the only one of my kind in the bar, but now they have gone further and dedicated a night to us gurls – with a great response from the community.

Did it have anything to do with my presence there for the past few years?  I don’t know.  But, it is true that the crowd there has also been more than receptive of me, so maybe they realized it was a possibility.

Still, I suspect rather that the main driver was the fact that there were some “sympathetic” souls in management, if you know what I mean. 

And, I do know that there is one ambitious t-girl behind it all, who does whatever she can to promote this thing.

Whatever the case, I am just glad there’s a terrific place for all the local t-girls and crossdressers to come to once a week.

Now, the main challenge is to get the word out to everyone.

My Tall Drink of Water

I was having a pretty ordinary night at the bar, and starting to have thoughts about making my exit plans when someone gently touched my arm.  I turned around to see who it was, and there he was… yum!

The handsome guy standing before me was dressed smartly in all-black.  I knew him from several online chats we had months earlier.  He was kind of an alluring rascal: a sex-obsessed scallywag with an impish grin and a wry sense of humor, very well-endowed and more than proud to prove it.

But, standing there in front of me with all of his clothes on, my oh my, he was a real cutie! 

“You have no idea who I am,” he said.

“Oh, but I do,” I smiled, willing my eyes to sparkle, if that’s possible.

We exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes and, becoming a bit more comfortable with him, I took a seat on a bar stool in front of him.

The conversation went in spurts, with some awkward silence in between, yet neither one of us made any effort to move on.  I got the sense that he was into me, and I realized also that I was falling under his spell. 

He was tall, good-looking, utterly charming and even sweet – a much better impression than the sex fiend he projects online – though I have no doubt that is an honest part of him too. 

And even though he couldn’t keep his eyes off every pretty woman that passed by behind me, I knew that this man was the first one I really wanted to be with.  It made me almost giddy.

More next week…

First Week Finale

One more New Year’s pic to end the week (click to enlarge):

There But For the Grace Go I

Yeah, so I left God out of the title – but this is not about her, this is about grace.

I haven’t really felt all that girly the past few days as work has bogged me down.  I scarcely had time for any exercise.

But, today, I demanded from myself that I step away from the computer and do some yoga. 

And what do you know, ten minutes into the practice of this graceful, spiritual form of exercise, my girl spirit was soaring.

It was miraculous!  (Ok, maybe God is in there somewhere, who knows?)

I have mentioned before that I never did yoga as a man, nor am I ever inclined to do so even now. 

Yoga ties into the part of me that is feminine.  My male self competes and does other forms of exercise, and wouldn’t be caught dead in a yoga studio.

Rigid?  You bet?  Chauvinistic?  Probably.

Hey, but that’s your Janie!  Things feel right to me that way.

Vani-T

I am grateful for the comments on my recent post The Irresistible Lure of the Lens, and I think that your explanations for our obsession with taking pictures of ourselves were intelligent and thought-provoking.

Here’s my two-cents’…

I have found that t-girls obsession with the lens is matched by our inability to walk past a mirror without looking at ourselves.

Both are momentary reflections of us that teach us what we may be doing wrong and impress us with what we are doing right.  And we are ever eager to learn about both.

For my money, the mirror is the better learning tool, as it is interactive.  Sometimes, it’s “Goll darn, I am doing pretty good!” but more often than not, there is some flaw that bears improving, and I can look away, take a deep breath and try to change my posture, my expression or whatever, to improve my result.

On the other hand, photos are better for showing (and showing off).  The t-community is very supportive and will boost a girl’s ego when she needs it, which is awfully nice.  There is also the opportunity among friends, to give and receive advice – and an outside opinion is immensely helpful.

For me, the whole preoccupation with seeing my reflection comes down to an endless fascination with what makes us look male or female, how trivial differences can change gender perception, and how to control these. 

Watchin’ Em Work It

Well, after the brouhaha that preceded ABC’s Work It, we finally got to see what all the fuss was about.

Of course the CD community is not going to appreciate some of the innuendo and outright specific comments indicating that crossdressing is nothing but a last resort for desperate people and not something any normal person would ever actually want to do.

I suspect the trans community will object to the trifling with their issues and with the whole concept of changing genders.

But, my opinion is that neither CDs nor TSs are really the true victims here. 

In my view the real victims are men. 

This show is nothing if not another “man=stupid” diatribe.  It is a continuation of repeated portrayals in media and advertising of men as unsuccessful, incompetent, ignorant, insensitive idiots in every facet of their lives – utterly useless human beings. 

The male characters in this show are morons and all male behavior in the show is portrayed as asinine.   The “smarter” of the two hasn’t a clue how to relate to his own wife until he “becomes” one of the gals.

“Oh, I didn’t realize that taking you out for a “romantic” dinner to the bar where my two idiot male friends will be waiting for us wouldn’t be a good idea!  Why are you mad at me?”

Men are being treated like drooling idiots, and this show is the latest and greatest insult yet.

Thank goodness the show is absolutely awful.  Begone!

Celebrating

It’s still the first week of January, so I feel alright about publishing another of my photos of my New Year’s celebration.  I hope you like this one as much as I do.  (Click to enlarge.)

The Irresistible Lure of the Lens

I wonder why it is that t-girls seem to have an incessant desire to have their picture taken.  I don’t really know how common it is, but my straw poll shows that almost everyone I know is so afflicted.

What answers are we looking for in the lens? 

Is it just to see how well we’re doing at assuming the female guise?

Or is it more, “I can’t believe I look this way!”

Or is it, “Damn, I’m hot. Photos of myself turn me on like porn…  maybe better!”

I have a good excuse: I need ‘em for my blog.

What’s yours?

Now That’s Funny

America is a funny place.

The Playboy Club – a sumptuously shot, multi-layered program lasted barely 2 episodes before it was pulled, due in no small part to complaints from the religious right.

The Parents Television Council said: “Bringing The Playboy Club to broadcast television was a poor programming decision from the start. We’re pleased that NBC will no longer be airing a program so inherently linked to a pornographic brand that denigrates and sexualizes women … we hope other broadcasters heed the important lessons of this programming debacle.”

Now, along comes ABC with “Work It,” an idiotic “comedy” (premiering tomorrow) which needs no explanation beyond the poster at right.  Yes, yes, women have it so much easier in the workplace than men, so of course it would be necessary to pretend to be one to secure a job.

But you know who has it easiest?  Transgender women.  Oh yes.  Especially non-passable ones.  Jobs practically fall into their laps, and co-workers enthusiastically welcome them.

I have generally taken a positive view of being part of television shows, even when we are not shown in the most positive light (see Two and a Half Men (and a Tranny or Two) and Can We Laugh at Ourselves?). I figure we are becoming part of the fabric of society and will eventually become more understood and accepted.

But this resurrection of Bosom Buddies looks so stupid and ridiculous that it offends even me. 

In some sense, I think it is because we are not in the 80s any more; we have already moved past the sensibility that accepted Bosom Buddies.  In another sense, it may just be because I think it is really bad – as in not funny.

BTW where is the Parents Television Council now?  Or do they only object to programming that denigrates genetic women? Funny that.

Much has been made on other blogs and t-sites of the offensiveness of this show; my take on the trailer is that its biggest offence may be that it is just bad tv.  But, I, for one, have yet to see a whole show. 

If it is as bad as it looks, well, one presumes it’ll be gone before we have too much time to complain.  If it is (much) better, maybe we can find a silver lining.

Stay tuned.