Thursday 24 November 2011
vanity is moi
Vanity is a tranny’s best friend. It’s like being born with a mirror as a twin. We can’t stop obsessing about ourselves. One must think it’s a disease of some sort that we need an intervention or counselling, but trust me when I say this, “ vanity came the moment we transformed. And looking at the peak of beauty is our main goal”. Some other trannies might beg to differ, saying that, “ I am not vain at all!” Again, trust me when I say this, “they are lying”.
Make-up. I personally spend hundreds of good earned money on these facial enhancers. I frequent Shoppers drug mart browsing through the make- up department scoring for deals and sales. A tgirl’s face is the front runner when talking to someone, so the face must be flawless and the make-up, well perfectly applied and blended. Don’t be shocked when you are in a date with a tgirl, that everytime she goes to the bathroom, it’s not that she had so much vodka to drink, but to check herself out if her mascara didn’t run and her lipstick is still intact.
Hair products. A tgirl’s true crown is her hair. Sometimes some girls purchase expensive hair extensions (or wig) because the longer the hair, the better the seductive power is. Our trip to the salon is not just for the regular trim and cut but also for the occasional brazilian blow out or hot oil treatment or color touch up. And never ever tell a tgirl that she has gray hair. Some can be sensitive about it. For it’s a sign of growing old. And one thing that a tgirl is worried and scared of : yes, it’s growing old.
Botox. That is why these magical injectable wrinkle remover are a tgirl’s ally. Not that I have been through this, but I know for sure I will. It will be my occasional fountain of youth. Occasional meaning every six months. As said, growing old is an option now.
Clothes, shoes, accessories. These are what comprise my shopping budget, about 95%. They totally complete me. My life is complete when I have the latest on clothes, shoes and accessories. They complete my day. Did I say they complete me?
Perfume. I need to smell perfect. And sweet, or naughty. Depending on my mood. I love designer perfumes. Chanel is my favorite. If you want to give me a gift, Chanel Chance or Chanel Mademoiselle would be awesome. Yes, they complete me too.
Manicure and pedicure. I love well polished, clean nails both on my hands and feet. And right now I’m loving my french tipped nails. Makes me feel French. Bon jour!
Yes I am vain. Vanity flows through my vein. If looking beautiful is wrong, then I don’t want to be right. Id rather be full of myself than ignore myself and wallow in everyday mundane routine of just washing my face and brushing my teeth and taking a shower. I love to pamper my body. It is my temple. And to all my sisters who are vain like me, I praise you.
Again, I am vain. But I am not shallow. I am full of substance.
J
Monday 7 November 2011
SRS of a friend...
Ohhhhh emmmm geeeeeeee!!!!
I woke up. I looked around. It was this teenager on her cell phone, probably texting. I stared at her for startling me up from my nap. She mouthed the words, “ I’m sorry”. I gave a forgiving smile. Now I can’t go back to sleep. This train ride would end in 20 minutes and I’ll be sleeping on my bed soon. Ahhhh my bed, I miss it the most. Hotel beds don’t even come close to the comfort my bed brings.
So to kill time, I’ll write something for my blog, which again I have forgotten to update. I was, the same excuse, very busy. Which seem to be my only excuse when I call overseas to talk to my family. or to visit my friends or even to go see a movie.
I was in Montreal for a few days to give support to a friend who went through SRS. To the common man, that would be Sex Reassignment Surgery. It has been her dream to finally be the woman she always wanted to be. To be free of the restraints and obstacles that her secret has kept her. To be able to wear those skimpy thongs without hardship, or plasters. And on her own words, to stare at her naked reflection without freakiness.
The process for her was a journey in itself. I know for I was there. From her psychological evaluation to her physical examination, I was the friend she can count and rely on. The excitement in her eyes were undescribable. There was a hint of nervousness and anxiety, happiness and relief.
The day of the surgery came and she was crying. Naked under her hospital gown, on a wheel chair. I said to her, “This is it. This is the moment. There is no turning back.” She just gave me a reassuring nod. That this is what she really wanted. I wiped her tears with my thumb. She grabbed my hand, gently closed her eyes and said thank you. I held back with my tears. This is not my moment. The nurses finally wheeled her in and the doors closed in between us. I sat there on the bench and waited for her. What seemed to be hours dwindled down to minutes. Before I kew it, I was staring at my friend, still asleep from the anesthesia. All bandaged from the waist down. The inevitable smile is etched on her pretty face though. I hope that smile will hold after the anesthesia wears down.
She went through the surgery well. She can hold the pain with grace. But not my arm, when she buries her nails there when I help her up to use the washroom. The stitches are still fresh, but she showed me the molds that she has to use to keep her new pussy open. They are like dildos.
I stayed there for a few more days until her sister came and she can recover in a hotel room.
My thoughts on SRS and would I do it? I’ll let you guys know soon. My train is coming to a complete halt now. And all I’m thinking right now, is my bed.
J
I woke up. I looked around. It was this teenager on her cell phone, probably texting. I stared at her for startling me up from my nap. She mouthed the words, “ I’m sorry”. I gave a forgiving smile. Now I can’t go back to sleep. This train ride would end in 20 minutes and I’ll be sleeping on my bed soon. Ahhhh my bed, I miss it the most. Hotel beds don’t even come close to the comfort my bed brings.
So to kill time, I’ll write something for my blog, which again I have forgotten to update. I was, the same excuse, very busy. Which seem to be my only excuse when I call overseas to talk to my family. or to visit my friends or even to go see a movie.
I was in Montreal for a few days to give support to a friend who went through SRS. To the common man, that would be Sex Reassignment Surgery. It has been her dream to finally be the woman she always wanted to be. To be free of the restraints and obstacles that her secret has kept her. To be able to wear those skimpy thongs without hardship, or plasters. And on her own words, to stare at her naked reflection without freakiness.
The process for her was a journey in itself. I know for I was there. From her psychological evaluation to her physical examination, I was the friend she can count and rely on. The excitement in her eyes were undescribable. There was a hint of nervousness and anxiety, happiness and relief.
The day of the surgery came and she was crying. Naked under her hospital gown, on a wheel chair. I said to her, “This is it. This is the moment. There is no turning back.” She just gave me a reassuring nod. That this is what she really wanted. I wiped her tears with my thumb. She grabbed my hand, gently closed her eyes and said thank you. I held back with my tears. This is not my moment. The nurses finally wheeled her in and the doors closed in between us. I sat there on the bench and waited for her. What seemed to be hours dwindled down to minutes. Before I kew it, I was staring at my friend, still asleep from the anesthesia. All bandaged from the waist down. The inevitable smile is etched on her pretty face though. I hope that smile will hold after the anesthesia wears down.
She went through the surgery well. She can hold the pain with grace. But not my arm, when she buries her nails there when I help her up to use the washroom. The stitches are still fresh, but she showed me the molds that she has to use to keep her new pussy open. They are like dildos.
I stayed there for a few more days until her sister came and she can recover in a hotel room.
My thoughts on SRS and would I do it? I’ll let you guys know soon. My train is coming to a complete halt now. And all I’m thinking right now, is my bed.
J
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