I wouldn’t say I had a fetish.
Isn’t wanting to look fabulous perfectly normal? I hate to say, but when you are the wrong side of middle age you readily grab any potential advantage with both hands. Particularly when you were born a male and your feminine side finally, finally, wins the identity battle.
And that’s despite the cruelty of the rolling years removing the last illusions of youthly glow. I never used to believe the cliché that ‘youth is wasted on the young’. In my humble opinion, it's just taken for granted.
“Like so many other things,” I sigh.
My sullen mood is gratefully interrupted as the morning sun, tantalizingly, reflects the candy pink lustre of my nails in my morning brew; the pearl-white porcelain being the perfect stage on this beautiful bright day. Mesmerised, I can’t resist checking that each finger is still immaculate, meticulously shaped and in balance with its neighbour. Quickly, I pop the mug down to more easily compare both hands - gorgeous!
Mmmm, even though my chosen colour for the day is already decided, I can’t help but imagine the various other shades and how they would look. The familiar light-headedness starts to tingle from deep inside, oh my, the feeling of growing excitement threatens to take over.
“Enough!” I admonish with a grin.
The ticking kitchen clock, in return, mocks my lack of haste, “Only 2 hours! Don’t forget Kaylee!”
“As if I could,” I mutter with a sheepish grin.
Oh she is fabulous, a real treasure of a Lady and I am so incredibly lucky to have met her. Beautiful, a very slim size 10 and possessing a truly inspiring personality. She certainly helped me turn my life around, but don’t tell her that, modesty is also one of her most endearing qualities. Mine? Few and far between I’m afraid, I say sorry too much, I’m broke, next to no self-confidence and far too easily swayed by anyone a couple of decibels louder. I sometimes wonder what Kaylee sees in me, but don’t mention that either, or I’ll be told off again!
We have shared so much. So many fantasies. So much pain, so much heartache.
Wiping away a tear, I head to the bedroom where my days ensemble is already picked out and waiting. A beautiful black lace trimmed purple satin set, comprising a bustier, a deep suspender-belt and high-hip lace panties. My stunning slip lays next to my seamed stockings, also lace-topped with pretty black and purple detailing. Truly, is there isn’t anything worse than undies that don’t co-ordinate? Over the top a simple black dress, button up front with small pleats in the skirt - elegant but revealing. Shoes! Oh my, I’ll sort those in a minute!
Quick check for messages.
Good! Kaylee was going to let me know her ETA, so I’m not over-running again. Almost of their own violation my pampered fingers tap away until my favourite pic comes up, they do look so sexy working the phone, and I have to admit getting quite turned on.
“As usual,” I giggle.
And there she is! The easy sincere laugh, immaculate shoulder length hair and stunning eyes. Sign. I feel like I’m going on a first date again! With a trembling hand I pop the phone back on my dressing table.
We had initially shared a very nervous afternoon tea (on my part that is, being dressed in front of someone for the first time can be traumatic no matter how nice they are). This grew to at least once a month when we mostly chatted about life, girl stuff and compared mental notes of the people we met online. It was a giggle. Sometimes, if one us had had a bad week we’d share, commiserate, try to give advice and occasionally a warm heartfelt cuddle. For you see, even though I had a massive crush on her, Kaylee was honest from the outset, she preferred the company of guys. But, just the once, we were in glorious sync. And oh-boy.
My smile returned with a hot flush at the memory.
God the time! Almost tripping, I dived towards the bathroom.
Any lady will admit there’s not much that compares to taking a hot sultry shower in heady anticipation of the hours to come. I don’t look too impressive naked, if I’m cruel I look terrible, which is why I don’t allow anyone to see me that way. But imagination is a wonderful thing. After a rigorous sandpapering, sorry exfoliating(!), and obscene amounts of creamy shower gel and moisturiser, it's on with the Veet. After months of work I can honestly say I’m winning the battle with my nemesis, the smoothness my inner gurl craves is bearing fruit at long last.
Gosh my fingers look so hot running over my legs, I can’t help but caress my budding breasts too and then slowly along my arms, marvelling how they look with their bright pink finish against my skin.
“No, no, don’t you dare wake up. I’ve no time! But later maybe…” I giggle as I feel the familiar disturbance in my panties.
Plonking myself down in front of the mirror, wrapped in a massive towel, the same familiar face looks back, “There’s not much femininity staring back there hon,” I say to myself for the umpteenth time. After spending literally weeks in front of YouTube tutorials, armed with foundation, concealer, primer, powder and the other essentials of the makeup arsenal, I have finally worked out a routine that produces a reasonable transformation. Yes, I know, the hordes of the politically correct will stamp their collective feet and proclaim that ‘femininity’ is a social construct and burn those razors(!) - but I say, well, nuts. My eyes need all the help they can get, thank you!
But it is a fact that we are a product of where we live and how we were raised; for me looking fem means being reasonably pretty, dressing in sexy lingerie, wearing flattering clothes and teetering on silly heels. Shoot me.
The reflection gazes back knowingly, a small smile signalling agreement. War paint applied!
Now only one last thing remains.
I am average in almost every way and being plus size adds its own complications. But my one redeeming bodily feature are my nails. They are naturally shapely, long, all my own and perfectly cared for. In fact, you could say excessively so! I am also religious with my toes, to my mind there is no greater turn off then skanky feet. So, a weekly trip to my trusted pedicurist is not just a treat, but a necessity. I did say being plus had issues, one of those is being able to reach the bloody things, but I can just about manage painting them, which is the most important thing.
Taking a cotton pad from my industrial sized stock, adding a dab of varnish remover, I get to work. Carefully working the lotion into the sides of each nail and gently over the cuticles. In no time my bare fingers stare at me accusingly; do you know its funny how alien they have become after all the decades of manly neglect? I don’t know if other gurls feel the same, but for me, these ten little dabs of colour help affirm who Kasey is. So silly, but without them I feel completely naked. So much so that I may have, possibly, gone slightly off the rails with the number of bottles in my collection to date.
Looking briefly up from my work, I once again marvel at the wall next to me. Row upon row of my little friends, all neatly organised by shade and brand, each in its own place and precisely labelled.
But there’s a slight issue, I’m ‘colour blind’. Meaning I’m only really sure of bright primaries.
It has some pretty major disadvantages, the worst for me is not being 100% certain which shade is green, red or purple! If these bad boys were all chucked into a heap, I’d have a nervous breakdown, no kidding.
In fact, Kaylee spent hours with me one wonderful winters night when I first mounted the acrylic shelves. I think partly in rebellion to the many received pic messages asking for this or that shade to be confirmed I chuckled. Why the manufacturers have to be so cryptic sometimes with the names is beyond me - what’s wrong with light, mid, dark? Countless letters and emails on the subject have gone predictably unanswered. But Kaylee is too nice to admit that was the reason she helped, I think she could see my excitement and just smiled in that gentle way of hers. But my panties growing increasingly wet may have been a slight giveaway.
The memory brought a smile to my red glossy lips. The tender love making that followed was so so special, with aspects of unresolved passion from myself taking Kaylee by surprise! My naturally ’cute’ persona giving way to delightful teenage yearning, a desperation that had us both panting in a glorious glow of sexual release.
We are more than just merely friends. Our lives, although very different, have shared the same anguish, the same tears that I suspect the majority of gurls feel. Can you imagine the torment of constantly balancing your male and female sides? Probably not, if you have been there you will know. It's so much more than just ‘dressing-up’ and providing a comedic moment for the heteros, and in most cases everyone else. LGBQ+, yeah right. It encompasses the broad spectrum of human complexities, but I still feel an outsider, shunned by the popular crowd. Perceived as being in limbo.
We are either deemed gay men (I will never forget being told that by a site admin) or drag queens. It hurts. Times are changing but not for us I assure you.
