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After those thoughts…

February 17, 2011

*grins*

I’ve been in panties 10 days straight.

One day I even wore a sports bra to work under my clothes.  *grins*

My thoughts from that day:

——-

Bra with no cups or support or really any way to adjust, when it’s not even really needed.

*giggles* I’m wearing a TRAINING BRA!

*grins* I can haz the pre-teen girl hormones to go with it, plz?

*gigglefits*

—-

My favorite day though, was last Friday when I wore the high waisted panty girdle.  Snug and probably the closest I will get to waist training for a while.  When I finally get some “extra money” I need to get a few more pair of those, so I can wear them consistently, ‘cuz I sure can’t wear the same one every day!

*adds 6 more panty girdles to “when I have more money list*

I’m more and more being me again.  The girl is not gone.  The money and work stress and etc all still weigh on me so heavy, they are the gray clouds looming over everything, but it doesn’t mean I can’t splash in the puddles wearing my skirt, while hoping to see the rainbow soon.

 

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More thoughts…

February 17, 2011

(written in another journal on 2/7, very shortly after the last post, written very stream of consciousness)

She blames no one for being lost.

She is there because of what she loves and a future for herself and her family.

It hurts, muchly, to be silent, missing.

But it is what it is. With no way out, blinded by the darkness and fear that that comes with moving forward. She takes her place, knowing that is not where she wants to be. But, being where she truly wants to be is unpossible, at least while holding on to what she holds dear.

What tears at her are the little things, that filled her heart with joy. The hair that she has let overtake her skin, the sensitivity that the patch gave her flesh that is no longer there, the pretty undies that made her feel despite all outward appearances, she was herself despite what she showed. The patch and the sensitivity that it brought were a casualty of finances. The rest a casualty of lack of time and her own desires. Stress stole the time and doing the little things that felt so special only made her crave more, like a shark with a taste for blood.

“This means so much, how wonderful would the next step be?”. What that step may be, usually was dashed on the rough shores of time and money, which to a certain extent lead to a sense of apathy of the small things. And yet those things are what are so missed.

I am woman.

Am I? Given how I have let the few female scraps I can hold onto fall to the floor like discarded clothing.

Am I just a silly boy who cannot let go of this odd thought that he is not one?

I look into the mirror and cannot see her.

I look at my clothes which seem very male.

I look at my biology and there is no womanhood, except the tiny buds on my chest from my time on the patch.

I look into my heart/my soul.

I want to cry. Thinking this out as I write it I look, there in my heart, and I see her and the kids are awake and I cannot weep.

I am sorry you…I am sorry we…I am sorry I hurt..

I am the lost girl, despite pushing her..us…myself away.

She is not she. She is me. I am she.

Girl, whatever mistakes I make, do not let yourself believe otherwise. That is what hurts so much. You may portray to the world whatever you want, but who you are is not someone you can brush to the side and deny to yourself.

Tears on the sleeve of a man. Don’t wanna be a boy today…

The same old story…

February 17, 2011

(Written in a different Journal on 2/7.)

Life gets to be too much and I push the girl into the corner. “I can’t deal with you right now.”

This journal which sits here abandoned. Long gone are the days of herbal supplements. I’ve been off and on the patch multiple times, usually due to money. Can’t tell you the last time I wore something girly under my boy clothes, panties tucked away god knows where. Life grabs the boy by the balls and he turns his back on the girl.

I think about her. I ache at times for her, but feeling helpless about it all, it’s easier to ignore and push away than to do anything.

And then I open a paper journal to express some private thoughts and it all comes flooding out. There she sits, buried beneath stress and worry and money and appearances, floundering, sobbing beneath the boy’s attempts to hold onto it all for dear life, to keep his head afloat. Hurt, waiting, hoping for even just a few hours of her, a woman.

She knows not where to turn or what to do.

She is the lost girley.

The End

September 8, 2010

I’ve been gone so long, I’m sure no one reads this anymore.  My twitter feed is forgotten and due to one again, going into hiding, I’m sure I have been forgotten as well.  I once had some wonderful friends here online and I let them all slip away from me due to my own fears.  A couple in particular, I hold very dear to my heart and will and still do cherish certain memories.

But I don’t want to bother anyone anymore, I don’t want to sweep into people’s lives and disappear.  I don’t want to be a shadow of a person.  I can’t be Jenni.  I can’t be the boy, but I guess that is who I must be.  I wish I had something to hold onto, someone to watch the girl, keep her here, even if only in virtual space, but I ask too much.

Thank you for visiting.  Those of you who have my e-mail, I still check it, if anyone wants me for whatever reason.

*turns off the lights*

I’ve beed a bad blogging girley.

September 28, 2009

I haven’t been updating at all.  And even when there have been things to update about.

I’ve been supposed to take measurements and share them with you and I haven’t.  I deserve a spanking for not even doing so once.  *waits for the spanking*  Drat.

Anyway!  I looked in the mirror this morning and there was most definitely a difference in my chest!  The left one, well, it’s breast shaped.  (Hmmm. Gives me thoughts for Thursday.) I’ve tried several times to very much to describe the difference in shape, but it’s not coming out right.  So, it’s more breast shaped as opposed to boy chest shaped.

 I need to start measuring.  Can I really measure myself?  And where is my measuring tape?

But breast!!!

Elaboration

August 27, 2009

After my post yesterday, a friend asked me if I was going for SRS.  I realized I didn’t give much detail at all yesterday about where this all is going.

I am taking a rather small dosage of E.  There will probably be minor physical changes over time.  (Hopefully my nips go back to that wonderfully sensitive state they had last time I was on E.)  But my point isn’t to transition, at least not now.  As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I, as of right now, have unresolved custody issues of my kids.  And even once custody were resolved, I have a feeling, it could get reopened real quick if I decided to transition.

No, this is to give me a bit more of that warm girleyness in my head that comes with such substances.  This is to give me those mild changes to my body, that thrill me so much, even if no one else will notice.  This is to give me a little more girl to hold onto in a world that sees boy.

Thank you again to my friend who made this all possible.  And maybe, over a decade down the line, when I have a empty nest, I will re-asses where this is all headed.  But for now, I mildly, slowly and secretly become more and more me.

I’m on the patch.

August 26, 2009

Thanks to an anonymous donation from a wonderful friend, I am on the patch. 

Nope, not nicotine.  

This patch is for a substance that has been at dangerously low levels in my system for quite a while now, the wonderfully girley estrogen.

Do I feel any different today? Yes and no.

The patch has been on for a few hours, so I shouldn’t feel any sort of hormonal difference.  It takes time for the girl juice to build up in me.  But just knowing it’s there, makes me a very happy girl. 🙂

I’ll see what kind of measurements I can take by myself on Saturday, to start tracking the changes.  Thank you to my wonderful donor, you don’t know how much this means to me.

Showing Off My Ass(ets) HNT

July 9, 2009
What is it  about a pair of lacy boyshorts that makes me feel so much like a woman?

What is it about a pair of lacy boyshorts that makes me feel so much like a woman?

I’ve been thinking lately just how much I’ve missed posting in this blog.  On my way into work this morning, I decided that I needed to do something about it.  When inspiration struck, HNT!

So, shortly after arriving at work, I was a naughty girl and went to the bathroom and snuck these photos for you all.  I hope you enjoy! 🙂