Yes, I know it’s going to sound like the world’s daftest first world problem, but I’m actually still feeling a little, well, emotional after the last blog and the events that caused it to be written, so I thought a little light-hearted silliness combined with some fun and hopefully cute pictures would lighten the mood a bit.
If you’ve been following this blog for a while you’ll know I like to dress up. Yes, understatement I know, but it’s true; part of my compulsion to dress also allows me to try things I never thought I’d either want to or have a chance to. One of those things is to pretend to be a pregnant woman.
Now I have no experience of pregnant women, either being one or interacting with one; after my childhood I wasn’t mentally prepared to bring anyone else into this world nor physical capable. Turns out if you get a massive overdose of mothers-milk (Estrogen) whilst in the womb your body chemistry is all over the shop. Pretty sure the male bit of me is impotent, based on the hormonal ups and downs I had as a kid going through puberty and as the result of a particularly fun fight I was involved in whilst posted somewhere dangerous (long story short, if you get drunk in a place where your enemies drink and you can’t keep your mouth shut you will get taken out back and beaten up, including someone holding your legs apart while someone else kicks).
Yet the idea of slipping into a maternity dress and channeling my inner mother-to-be is one of those darkly delicious thrills that ticks a certain box for me. So, as part of the one before last session I thought I’d have a little more of my ‘pregnant woman’ fun; I ordered a pretty little sleeveless dress from Amazon and we did the look as the first one of the session. I like to do an easy look first just to get up to speed and this one was straight forward enough, other than the prosthetic.
In the old days when I was a: drinking and b: eating I was overweight (on the BMI border between overweight and obese, depending on the time of day and number of bags of crisps I’d scoffed). Not proud to admit it but when we wanted to do a pregnant look we’d just take off the corset and relax, the middle-aged beer-gut would do the rest. No, actually, I am ashamed, forget that last paragraph.
So now I’m trim and relatively fatless, other than the places I don’t want it (a touch around the midriff which the doctor told me is the last damn place fat goes from on 50+ males and the first place it heads for); so for the pregnancy look I bought a proper training bulge, designed for women to allow them to get used to the feel of the weight. It’s heavy, straps tightly around your midriff with some transparent straps over the shoulders. It sits right against the skin of your stomach and, as you wear it, it warms to the temperature of your skin and feels part of you.
I don’t wear a corset for photoshoots any more (yeah, I’m as surprised as anyone else by that), just a girdle and a stomach shaper (the same material as the girdle but with rigid boning). So for this look I left the stomach shaper off (there’s not a lot of point with pulling in the stomach when you want to look like you didn’t think unprotected sex through five months earlier) and attached the false baby bump.
Man, it was cold! This was early May when the seasons hadn’t kicked into correctness yet. It took a while for the mass of the baby bump to come up to the temperature of my body and feel part of me, but in the meantime I’d noticed a slight problem.
See, with the weight loss (and I told you this was going to be an amusing first-world problem-a-thon) and the fact the dress, although clearly a maternity dress, was black and therefore, cough, slimming if you’ll pardon the daftness of that idea, even with the baby bump I didn’t really look pregnant.
Cindy and I did a photoshoot and the results were lovely; I looked like a cute mumsy type (if I may say so myself) but out of the number of shots we did I looked pregnant in about a quarter of them. Which was amusing.
Fast forward two weeks later and dammit, this time I was going to look pregnant come hell or high waters-breaking. I’d bought the most maternity maternity dress I’d ever seen; a powder-blue floral maternity smock from New Look that was clearly designed for maximum ‘look at me and my unborn child’ effect. More irony and I’d lost another kilo of weight this time (6ft 2in tall and 77 kilos), but this time it worked.
The flow of the frock and the effect of my swollen belly worked a treat; I’d also gone for a very mumsy look this time, even down to a little cross (my male side is completely agnostic, my female side appears to be religious, figure that one out). Cue lots of little jokes between myself and Cindy about the lack of contraception in Catholicism which led to me being in my five-months swollen state. That and I kept pretending the cross was burning me because, you know, self hate and all that.
Anyway, the difference between the two looks was definitely noticeable; something about the smock just made it easier for me to click into the pregnant mindset. I even found myself sitting down gently, ‘just in case’, which was both amusing and oddly worrying.
So, first-world problem to the max; 52 year old crossdresser has problem appearing pregnant due to weight loss and inadvertent choice of slimming maternity styles. You literally can’t make this up. Sometimes it’s a lot of fun being this odd.
Stay beautiful and you know that little delicious fantasy that keeps popping up in your subconsciousness that you just can’t bring yourself to try? Go for it. You only live once.