Tuesday, June 29, 2010


I've never shared too much of the leg/foot fetish that some others have. I read about people breathlessly reporting on their new pantyhose purchases by brand, construction, and type. Fine enough for them, but it's never gotten to me.

So you won't see much here about shoes, either. For one thing, not too many "girls like me" wear stilettos to begin with. However, Master ensures that I have several pair of another sort of footwear- flipflops.

I can't stand them -- the way the thong wedges into that toe. How they are in constant danger of sliding off. And that sound they make, especially the slap-scuff racket when you're in a hurry. Master loves multi-sensory input, and the constant slapping of sole against ground is a remidner without heels or wedges who I really am on the inside.

Time to scuff off to dinner.

Friday, June 25, 2010

Last poll

Interesting results from the last poll. When reading this blog...

11 of 14 imagine themselves in my position.
2 of 14 imagine themselves in the position of Master.
1 of 14 imagine themselves as an observer.


Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Script for filming

Coming soon to a theatre near you: I just wrote this commerical, and Master will be filming it next weekend. Of course I'm the star!

Close-up of a pink cell phone, held in a girl's hand tipped with pink nails. Blonde hair in the background...glossed lips are in the picture.

"I had a great time with him last night...he's what? He's what? He's dumping me?!? Why?!? He said I smelled like his grandmother??"

The phone goes flying. Audience sees the hand sweep a teddy bear into a hug, and the girl goes face first onto her bed, crying. She's wearing a trendy white tank top and short shorts. Her back is heaving. The sound dims and camera blurs as the voiceover begins:

That wasn't the first time. I wore the cutest clothes, had bouncy hair. I was popular, and perky...

Camera shifts to a fog-filled bathroom with the shower running. Inside an open medicine chest, we see all manner of cosmetics and makeup, skin care, lotion, and other teenage girl ephemera. Standing out is a pink deodorant container, obviously Secret. As camera slowly zooms in, voiceover continues.

I could get a first date with the cutest boy in class, but not a second one. No matter what perfume I tried, no matter how sweet I smelled when I left the house, I heard the same complaints. Old-lady smell. I tried everything until a friend told me it wasn't my perfume...it was my deodorant.

Camera cuts to a topshot of a bureau prominently displaying a DegreeGirl deodorant stick, with the Secret in the trash. Pulling back and down, we see the same girl, in a pink top and black skirt on the phone again. The teddy bear sits on the bed:

He said that? Sure I want to go on a third date with Austin! I want to date him right now!...Oh, I would totally kiss him. I was thinking we could go to...

Voice fades down and camera blurs. DegreeGirl stick re-appears on-screen. New voiceover fades up:

Thanks DegreeGirl for making me smell as sweet as I am. (Kissing sound)

Oh, my new boyfriend Austin says thanks too!

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Don't drop it!

What? My arm bangles?

No, well yeah, but no not right now. Don't drop the spirit stick!

What's a spirit stick? Well, it's a decorated stick awarded to a cheer squad with lots of spirit. There's an example on the right! Usually it's awarded at cheer camp, and stays in the cabin for the week. It's worth smiling extra bright and shouting extra proud for the chance to display it, and any real cheerleader treasures it as much as her lipgloss!

Only, it's very very bad luck to let it touch the ground. It brings seven years of bad luck!

So guess what Master gave me the other day? You bet! So now anytime I'm wandering around, I have to cradle this with me. It's like a second purse, only I don't get in trouble of the purse touches the ground!

Goooooo team! (good grief!)

Tuesday, June 15, 2010


Well, as camp season draws near, Master is talking about giving me more of the "camp experience". I learned what that was today...

Master had bought Klutz's Friendship Bracelets, packed complete with supplies this weekend. Reading it, I quickly learned the truth about friendship bracelets -- it's about status...

1-How many bracelets are you wearing shows how many friends you have.
2-Who gave you the bracelets shows how cool your friends, and you, are.
3-How nice they look shows how talented and tasteful your friends, and you, are.

Hard enough at the best of times, these things are a beast to tie with the long nails that are currently glued on. How many friendship bracelets am I wearing? Well, none yet...you see, once I make them, Master takes them away...I don't know where

Saturday, June 12, 2010

The register

So, how do you approach the register?

Do you smile at the cashier, nervously looking around as she rings up your pink nail polish?

Do you chatter nervously, hoping to cover the moment with idle noise to distract her from the fact that she's ringing up a multi-tiered skirt for you?

Do you silently stare at the floor as your edition of CosmoGirl is bagged?

Do you shield the register area with your body so other customers can't see the new purse you're buying?

Do you lie when asked why or for whom you're buying this?

And what would you like to do at the register?

Questions? Ideas?

Email me at

Friday, June 11, 2010

In case you were wondering...


*Original creation per Master's orders.

Monday, June 7, 2010

On assignments

Forgive me, I'm feeling reflective.

I wonder, judging from the poll, how many people here want to be "made" to do something. Something I've described in a post here, or somewhere else. Apparently, nine of us would like to be in this position.

Does it really have to be so hard? Heck, someone could play the role of "Master" in half these things in less than an hour of their time, in public, and give that person an immeasurable thrill. The victim could return the favor a week later. I'm serious here. I'm tired of crossdressers sitting around, whining about how they're looking for/need a Master/mistress. Most of them time, they/we know what's wanted, and aren't doing it because that spot of impetus is missing.

So what's wrong with an exchange? Why doesn't that happen more often? Lack of guts? Trust? Coordination?

If a fellow crossdresser in New England is reading this and wants me to send him into a McDonald's dressed like I describe to ask for a Happy Meal, I'll do it with that slight push. If s/he wants to give me their keys on condition that I don't return them until they've completed the mission. Done. As long as I get my turn.

Why doesn't this happen?

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Baby girl

"Stop acting like a baby!"

That's one of Master's comebacks when I whine. If I'm wearing heels that are over 2" for a while, or I have to re-color my nails for the third time today to match an outfit. Well, yesterday I guess he'd had enough, because after I said how much I missed eating meat, he said this:

"If you're going to act like a baby girl, you may as look it!"

Now, I wasn't dressed as an infant, but Master did make sure that I did look the part. Nobody could doubt I was a "baby girl".

First came the lingerie, pictured right. Well, sort-of lingerie. I had on a hot pink French-cut panty underneath the skirt, and now anyone behind me could see that I was a baby girl. Over the black bra, however, Master had me put on a little "My Little Pony" white top that did little to obscure the black and hot pink bra underneath. Finally, I had to allow a pink pacifier dangling from a chain to be fastened around my neck.

"There," he said. "Now you look the part. Complain one more time, it's diapers for you!"

I didn't complain again that day.

Not even when dinner was from Gerber's.