Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Happy Anniversary... To Me...

Came across this picture sometime during my internet surfing adventures, and thanks to my little ol' autogynephiliac brain, I immediately knew what was happening. Once again, some poor guy has been involved in a terrible accident, knocked unconscious, taken to the hospital, mistakenly given a sex change operation, and has awaken to find he is now a gorgeous, curvaceous, sexaceous (probably not a real word) gal. At least in the world of TG fiction, one man's tragedy can be another man's unfulfilled dreams.

Given the number of times this scenario plays out everyday in real life (approximately 0 times a day), it seems a bit odd this would be such a popular storyline. However, I'm not a critic, just a fan of non-pornographic TG fiction, and I probably enjoy dreaming about such stories as much if not more than the next TG person.

This humble little blog celebrates its first anniversary today (Yay!). In retrospect, I haven't accomplished all I wanted to do in the first year, yet at the same time, I was fully prepared to have no "followers" much less passing readers during the first year. I just wanted a little spot on the www to tell people I was a conservative Christian transgendered person and to let others who consider themselves the same that they were not alone. Praise the Lord, I've done that, I've met others like me, and they in turn have met others. I know how encouraging it can be to a person to find out that they are not alone, yet I am available to fill the role of a lone voice crying in the wilderness anytime that is needed.

It seems that the first year anniversary is the paper anniversary, so it is also a bit odd that the internet has done much to eliminate the need for paper and traditional printed communication. Over twenty years ago, I received the Grace and Lace newsletter in the mail. It was a simple, mostly typewritten little paper, carefully photocopied and mailed out in a plain white envelope. The publication schedule was a bit random, but the publisher, Lee Frances Heller, had a love for the Lord and for His people that shone through the pages of that newsletter. I never knew Ms. Heller personally, but I like to think that in addition to passing on the Lord's love to others, I'm continuing her type of ministry in a small way.

Returning to the picture and storyline mentioned at the start of this post, I myself am a bit of a wuss when it comes to pain and would probably not like to find myself literally in the same situation. However, I am totally open-minded to the possibility of sci-fi transporter device malfunctions, male-female body switches, landlady forcing me to dress like a girl, and prescription drug mishaps that cause my estrogen to spike and my body to feminize. We shall see what the next year brings.


Thursday, March 3, 2011

Don't Know Anything About Breasts

Saw a story on the television news recently that scientists are having amazing success growing female breast tissue. The breast tissue is the person's own body tissue, so there are no problems with implants or tissue rejection. Doctors are worried about cancer cells in the new tissue, as they theorize the acceleration process in growing healthy cells could also accelerate diseased cells. Also, they don't seem to have a way to definitely stop the growth process, and say it is possible the breast tissue could continue to grow out of control.

All this exciting news really sent my little ol' TG'd brain into overdrive. Growing my own female breasts would be a dream come true, and who knows what else they might be able to grow by the time they perfect this process.

The shape and form of the female body has always been incredibly important to me. Some crossdressers are happy to just put on a dress and maybe a wig. They would never pass in a million years. The female shape and form has always been intensely important to me since my earliest crossdressing days. It was never just enough to put on female clothes. I had to make my body as feminine as possible.

For example, I always wanted a corset, but could never afford one. I solved this problem by buying several old leather belts and cinching them up as tight as I could stand. I would have four or five belts on at time, making certain my feminine waist was the smallest point and the other belts not cinched as tightly.

I saw an advertisement for a crossdresser's padded garment designed to give the hips and thighs a more womanly figure. After experimenting on my own, I found I could get some cotton padding from a craft store, cut it to size and shape, and with the help of a good pair of pantyhose, achieve feminine hips and butt.

The breasts were a bigger challenge to me. I have a bit more up top than most men and could achieve some decent effects with taping and falsies, but it wasn't enough for me. I wanted a pair of breasts that would have the straightest, most homophobic man in town drooling all over himself like the village idiot when he saw me, and a padded bra just wouldn't do the trick.

By accident, I heard about latex prosthetics used in theatrical productions and saw some pictures of female impersonators using fake bosoms. Good heavens! That was the answer! So I found a book with instructions for making latex prosthetics and memorized it. I bought some plaster, some petroleum jelly, shaved my body, and made a mold of my upper torso. That was the easy part, and it turned out pretty good if I do say so myself.

Next came the hard part: making boobs out of modeling clay and putting them on my plaster torso. I am not an artist in the realm of sculpture. Heck, little kids often have to ask what I am trying to make out of kid dough. I could not make a pair of breasts that I was satisfied with.

I then began studying female breasts for several months. I girl watched every chance I could get. I read fashion magazines and bought lingerie catalogs. I read health books at the library. My attention was riveted on television news reports about women's breasts (cosmetic surgery, health, fashion, etc.). Mind you, I didn't consider myself any sort of pervert... I just wanted a great pair of breasts!

However my studies could not make-up for my lack of talent with sculpting, so I packed everything away for future experiments and concentrated on using fashion -- proper bra size, padding, breast placement, etc. -- to achieve a look I could be happy with.

Around that time I came out to my girlfriend. It was still early in the relationship, and she was going to meet some fellow crossdressers. She was helping me get dressed and we were talking as I put on my bra and got my breasts arranged.

"You're not going to wear your bra like that, are you?" she asked.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I mentally reviewed all the fashion magazines I had read, all the catalogs I had memorized, and all the girl-watching subjects I had referenced.

"Yes," I replied, "does something not look right?"

"Oh dear, you don't know the first thing about women's breasts," she informed.