A Slap of Reality

I willingly admit that there is a certain fantasy element to most cross dressing. If what I find on the internet passes as the norm for many cross dressers, then it is safe to assume that we all have an ideal vision of what a woman should look like and what we wish we could look like. There's nothing wrong with that, it's just the nature of our transgenderism.

I have a strong ideal of what I wish to look like. I'm constantly comparing women's hair, makeup, clothing, shoes, etc. to my list of what I like, what I could achieve, and what I can only dream about.

With my new year's diet and exercise program, I thought I was securely planted in reality. I was overweight by both my standards and the standards of the health care industry. I began loosing weight and could scientifically document my progress using a scale, tape measure, and the new belt I had to buy last week. However, this morning I got a bruising reality check.

I had time for a full hour of exercise this morning and began with great eagerness. I use some standard exercise videos found on YouTube. They all feature the aerobics/fitness instructor leading the exercises, surrounded by several women comprising various levels of physical fitness. As the exercises became easier (due to practice), I found myself paying more attention to the women in the background. The instructor is toned, fit, and looks great, but some of the women in the background had better curves. I found their workout clothes to be cute and found myself comparing hairstyles and physiques. After a few weeks, I found myself wishing I had a figure like the woman in the teal outfit on the right side of the screen, or had a pretty smile like the woman at the very back in the black and pink outfit. Eventually, I even found myself using these women as a goal, as in "that's what I want my body to look like".

This morning, I added something new to the routine. I've been concentrating very hard on doing the exercises in a correct manner. I bought a full mirror at the store and set it up next to my computer screen so I could see myself while exercising, and compare my moves to those of the instructor. Yuck!!! That slapped me back to reality faster than a wet towel in a locker room. I realized I'm light years away from looking like the cute gal in the teal outfit, and on a practical level, I will never look like her.

The good news is that my diet and exercise will help me loose weight and improve my health. I just need to remind myself of that more often. And every little pound and inch I loose will also help me achieve a more feminine look. I just have to keep my expectations grounded in reality and know I will never be hired to be a model for Victoria's Secret.

Kelli

Resolution Update

We are two weeks into 2012 and I am two weeks into my diet. Things are going great. I'm doing an old fashioned "watch what you eat and count calories" diet. I refuse to eat more than 1,500 calories a day, and my goal is 1,000 calories a day.

The results? So far, I've lost 10 pounds. This is actually not all good news. I think I have a strange metabolism. I lost those 10 pounds in the first week of my diet, and have been holding steady the second week. Loosing ten pounds is nothing to me. I can do it easily. It's the succeeding pounds that require a bit more work.

Tomorrow I plan to buy a sit-up bar and some exercise videos. It's cold outside and I really have motivational deficiencies when it comes to strenuous outdoor exercises like running and biking. I want to stay indoors and concentrate on specific body areas with light exercise and aerobics. I've had a desk job for years and have found just working up a slight sweat (pardon me... ladies "glow") causes my body to resume loosing pounds.

I refuse to use weights as I don't want any muscle development. I've never had much in the muscle department and enjoy my flexibility. I want to keep all that as a basis for a more feminine look.

Also tomorrow, I plan to update my makeup collection and begin seriously experimenting with it every day. An ex-girlfriend told me the mysterious secret once of how women learn to do makeup -- practice! My basic skills are not bad, but I look forward to trying some of the new styles I've seen on various fashion web sites.

In other resolution news, I've also increased my Bible study. I'm not a "Bible thumper", but find Bible study really stimulates both the brain and the physical body.

And the decent Kelli pics will have to wait for later. I'm interested in seeing what I can do with a camera (I actually need to buy a digital camera), and if I can get a decent shot, I might actually post it.

Some of you might be thinking What?! She doesn't own a digital camera?! Everyone owns a digital camera! It's not like I'm Amish or Mennonite. I was still using film until last year when I bought a cheap cell phone that had a camera in it. I enjoy taking pictures with it, but it isn't tripod mountable and doesn't have a timer, so I want a camera dedicated to one task -- taking pictures.

I'll keep you posted on my progress. Two weeks in and I'm still successful and excited about my resolutions and the progress I'm making. Two weeks is a pretty good start for me.

Kelli

Girly-Man Parts

Last week I had to go shopping for some new guy clothes. I'd much rather have been shopping for gal clothes, but most folks who know me prefer to see me in guy clothes. I figure that's their loss.

Was trying on suit coats and having a very hard time finding a good fit. The problem wasn't the coat length, the coat waist, or even the sleeves. The recurring problem was finding a coat that fit properly in the shoulder. For lack of a better description, most of the coats I tried on were too big in the shoulder.

Later, at home, I was thinking about my shoulders and inspected myself in the bathroom mirror. I have never had muscular or big shoulders, but noticed I didn't have narrow shoulders either. I finally decided that I have thin, non-muscular shoulders, and attached to them were long, non-muscular arms. In the winter months especially, I often shave my arms when I dress. No one has ever commented on my arms, but I decided my arms were fairly feminine and would look even more so with a bit of liposuction.

Like I said, no one has ever commented on my thin shoulders or tapered arms. The only comments I remember getting about being feminine were from an ex-girlfriend who frequently said I had great legs. That always made me blush.

So I am now acknowledging my girly-man parts. I'm proud of my girly-man parts. They are the parts of my body that I can easily and advantageously use to look more feminine when I want to do so, and when they are under male clothes, no one notices at all.

Will add this phrase to Kelli's Dictionary soon.

Kelli

November Updates

Sorry for not posting much lately. I've been in mourning for my Detroit Tigers.... Only time can heal that loss....

Speaking of baseball (and professional sports in general), I recently became aware of the great inroads women have made in the area of sports apparel. When I was younger, sports apparel was made and marketed towards men. When women wanted to wear a sports jersey, they usually had to buy one made for the guys or borrow one from their boyfriend or husband. Those dark, caveman days have come to a close. I found all sorts of cute and feminine clothes in the professional sports gift shops. To ease my pain over the Tigers, I'm planning to order some Red Wings merchandise to see me through the winter, and no, I will not be ordering the Red Wings bikini.


Point of clarification -- I'm not a big ol' jock. I'm closer in size to the cheerleaders, and quite proud of that fact, thank-you very much.


Yesterday, while doing a little shopping, I saw some television sets displaying an episode of The Doctors. I've never really seriously watched the program although it looks like an interesting show. This particular episode was about the headline some time ago about a man giving birth to a child. The man was a female-to-male transexual. I'm assuming this person was in the process of transitioning when he got pregnant, and then finished transitioning as he looked very manly on the program. The volume was not on, so I could only see the video.
At one point, the cute doctor (don't know her name, but she's an OB/GYN) used a large computer video screen to show the effects of testosterone on the female body. A 3-D female body appeared on the screen, followed by a hypodermic needle that was labeled testosterone. As I said, I couldn't hear what they were saying. The model was injected and the camera zoomed to her face where she began growing whiskers. I'm assuming this is one of the first effects of testosterone. Then there was a cut-away view of the skull and the brain was highlighted. I don't know what testosterone does to the female brain, but I imagine it shrinks it down to the average male size and IQ. It was then that I remembered I wanted to buy a new pair of house slippers and began aimlessly wandering off in that general direction.


Television is not only very education, but it can be very entertaining for my autogynephilia. One of the Hispanic television networks is constantly airing a particular Snickers candy commercial. I don't speak Spanish and don't know very many famous Hispanic television stars, but the commercials are very similar to the ones that air here in the states. In the commercial, a young woman wearing a short orange dress and dark leggings is on a bicycle at a bike/skate park. She yells out to her friends, then pushes off, zooming down to the bottom of the pool where she looses her balance and falls off the bike. She sits on the pavement for a moment complaining about the pain while her two friends stand over her. She stands and is obviously annoyed at their lack of sympathy. One friend hands her a Snickers. She takes a bite, and the next time you see her, it is a guy wearing an orange shirt and dark pants.


It's a cute advertising campaign for the candy company, but if their candy bars could really change you from a woman back into a man, I would seriously consider never eating another one again.


Kelli

On Being Lara Croft

Time for a quick strange dream update....


I have an iGoogle homepage that I enjoy very much. I've got some fashion news gadgets, weather and e-mail gadgets, and some cute artwork gadgets to keep me informed and entertained. It has a calendar and a calculator (which is never used), and a love thought for the day. I don't change the gadgets very often, but the iGoogle page is customizable with various themes, and I like to change the theme from time to time.


My current theme is a Lara Croft theme. Lara is a character from the Tomb Raider video game series. I have never played any of the Tomb Raider games (a fact many younger readers find hard to believe), but I have seen many pictures of Lara. She is a knock-out of a woman who likes action and adventure and could easily kick my tail if I were to meet her in person. Beautiful, a state often identified as feminine, and tough, a state often identified as male, when combined in one person is certain to attract my eye every time.


Lately, I have not been sleeping well, and was extra tired when I went to bed last night. I dreamed last night that I was Lara Croft. Not being familiar with the various Tomb Raider storylines, the dream was mostly various action adventure scenes in which I, as Lara Croft, found myself racing cars, diving off boats, hang gliding, and such. I had a blast in the dream and awoke somewhat out of breath.


Some folks have criticized the Lara Croft character as being an imaginary character whose looks are unattainable for the average woman. The average woman is unable to attain Lara's beauty. The average woman is unable to have shapely legs like Lara. The average woman would find it difficult to daily manage life with a figure like Lara's body dimensions. I feel I can now safely say that I just spent a night as Lara Croft, and had no problem with my breasts getting in my way.


Kelli

On A Scale of Feminine to Feminine

Many, many moons ago, a very wise man (my therapist) suggested I keep a personal journal. I found the idea a bit silly and asked if he meant the sort of journal where I would write things like "Dear Diary, today the little red-haired girl smiled at me from across the room"? He said that was exactly the sort of journal he was referring to, that it would help me work through my thoughts and feelings, and would prove very beneficial. Although it was many, many years ago (practically the dark ages), I remember it like it was almost yesterday. I wanted to be cured of my transvestism (used more like a blanket term back in those days), blood letting and leeches did no good, and if my neighbors ever discovered my horrible secret, they would chase me out of town with torches and pitchforks.

So I started writing a journal and have continued doing so to this very day. I have found it therapeutic, extremely helpful, entertaining, and enlightening. From time to time, I review entries in this journal. For example, in December I will often glance at entries dated December from years past. Sometimes I make strange discoveries, like finding I feel completely different today than I did about some event ten years ago. Sometimes I come across really important items that I had lost track of or forgotten. It's even helped with personal relationships with family and friends over the years as my life sometimes plays like a soap opera.

I'll write about important things, work, family and friends, church, mundane things like where I live or visit on a daily basis. My journal also contains records of my actual dreams, my "crossdreaming", crossdressing, etc. It's been fun, educational, and very helpful to me and I always encourage others to try it.

So I was recently reviewing an old journal entry from about a year ago when I also came across an entry in Jack Molay's awesome blog about masculinity and femininity. My ex-girlfriend always accused me, Kelli, of being hyper-feminine and very girly-girly. I was shocked when she told me because although I like all things feminine, I had always tried to be just the "girl next-door" type. I've known crossdressers who were into little girl-type clothes, extremely frilly and lacy-type clothes, square-dance clothes with lots of petticoats, etc. I just wanted to look pretty in jeans and a shirt, and wanted to do so with as little effort and work as possible (latter part of that statement is still very much a work in progress). It took me a long time -- probably because I was born male -- to realize that there is a very broad area of play on my scale of feminine to feminine.

I think if and when I attain a level of satisfaction in presenting myself as Kelli, no one will notice. I want to look just like any other woman you see in the mall, at the grocery store, working in an office, etc. In my current attempts to reach this level, it is fairly easy to see that I am actually a guy although I have passed on several ocassions. Still, I dress and do my best to act like a normal woman. That is the area on the feminine to feminine scale that I try to cover.

My ex-girlfriend was a wonderful person, sweet, funny, and pretty. I found her to be all the woman a guy could ever want. I would consider her to be a normal woman, fitting perfectly centered in the feminine to feminine scale. However, she was at least a couple of inches taller than me, several pounds heavier than me, and to her surprise, stronger than me. Had we gotten married, she would have carried me over the threshold. I never thought of myself as looking weak or a "sissy", but looking back at the two of us standing side by side, she was definitely the masculine one in the relationship.

I always felt bad about that because I realized I was the one that was throwing the whole feminine to feminine scale off balance. While I denied acting hyper-feminine, I have to confess to acting feminine. My girlfriend by herself was feminine. My girlfriend next to me was masculine (or less feminine than normal). Me by myself was fairly masculine. Me by my girlfriend was less than masculine (or more feminine, which I could take as a compliment).

It's all somewhat illogical and confusing. It was also not fair to my ex because as I said, she was a wonderful, beautiful woman.

Masculinity and femininity are obviously sliding scales. That point was finally driven home to me in a dream one night. In the dream, I had to travel to a foreign country to meet a king. Before meeting the king, I met with people from his court who advised me on protocol. My basic manners were good enough, but my mode of dress was all wrong. My Sunday suit and tie just wouldn't do, so one of the staff gave me a royal gown suitable for my presentation to the king. I was pushed behind a dressing screen and told to put it on. When I started to put it on, I noticed what it looked like and started to complain. It looked like a white, one-piece nylon dress with a skirt that came to about the knees.

The staff told me there was no mistake and to hurry. I said there was a mistake as the dress had a skirt. The head servant said in that country it was their version of the kilt, and not to worry as that was not the entire suit of clothes. I put on the garment, matching tights, clunky shoes that had very high heels for male shoes, and left the dressing screen.

The staff were unanimous in their approval and proceeded to finish dressing me. I was given a white, powdered wig and a makeup artist came and lightened my facial skin with powder and makeup. A wide, black belt cinched me in at the waist, jeweled adornments were pinned to my chest, and a black bolero jacket finished things off. I asked to see a mirror just as another person who was about to be presented to the king entered the room. He was huge, well over six feet tall, with a bodybuilder physique that I thought was going to tear through the royal clothes he was wearing. His outfit seemed to be identical to mine, but the staff did not have a mirror at hand and I was unable to see myself.

We were both presented to the king, and afterwards escorted to a waiting chamber next to the throne room in case the king had further need of us. I and this huge bodybuilder guy sat in a couple of chairs with a dainty little tea table between us and quietly made small talk. A few other folks were in the room and I began to notice them and how they were similarly dressed. I noticed a young man and woman sitting across the room from us and started to smile at them when I realized something horrible -- the young woman and man across the room were actually our reflections in a large mirror. This guy was so big and beefy and I was so... uh... me... uh... not big and beefy, that from a distance we looked like a man and woman.

I awoke from the dream and wrote it down in my journal as it was definitely one of the stranger dreams I have ever experienced. Still, I think I learned something important from it: If I'm ever going to completely be Kelli, it would really help if I lived someplace that was predominantly populated by big beefy bodybuilding guys. I think future girlfriends and/or wife might appreciate that too.

Kelli Y