Going to stick with this format of posts for a bit; I like the ability to just vent on loads of things without having to write a novel on a single subject. And at the moment, I’m in the mood for venting. So, bear with me dear reader, and I’ll explain why I feel the need to create some new words (preferably not swear words) to cover just how I’m feeling at the moment.
Goodwood; the aftermath
So, Goodwood. Loved it to bits; not sure I’d do it again because I get the feeling the rush of sheer terror combined with delight wouldn’t be the same again, but it was a wonderful experience. There is a however, as there always is with pretty much anything I do, and that however is the crux of my unhappiness at the moment.
I managed to get food poisoning. Yeah, it was kind of not surprising; we are a lot of shellfish the first night and my body, post weight-loss and post my little bout of Covid, doesn’t seem to be, well, as concrete-stomached as before, And I got it bad.
Horror story time, so if you’re not a fan of the absurdly insane and amusingly horrendous you may want to look at the pictures (I had a couple of hours trawling my archive to cheer myself up). So, the day after Goodwood I had to get home. It was the day before the Queen’s funeral, and trains were very busy into the capital. Myself and my friend got up early, checked out of the hotel, and headed to a DPD shop to courier the wigs back to the wig maker.
As I stood in the shop in Brighton I felt, well, odd. A little hot, a little out of sorts. I said goodbye to my friend with a hug, then stomped up the long hill to the Brighton train station, hopping on the first fast train to London. I felt, well, worse.
By the time I hit London it was reasonably warm, I was pulling a suitcase on wheels and London was insanely busy. I got off at London Bridge, then dived into the Underground. Riding the escalators I realised I felt very wrong, dizzy, almost passing out.
I got to Euston station just in time to rush into the toilets, which are the worst place to be; no offence Euston, but they are grim. They are not the place to have a catastrophic uncontrollable bowel ‘episode’.
And it went downhill from there. Ninety minutes on the train, cursing my life in general while clenching as hard as I could, followed by ninety minutes drive. I wish you could burn calories from clenching as hard as you can, but life isn’t that fair. I got home just in time to descend into five days of constantly being unable to be more than thirty seconds away from a toilet. It was that bad. Nothing solid, just kept drinking water and waiting for it to end.
In the space of five days I dumped my entire bodies biome; literally flushing the entire contents of my intestinal tract. It was, well, an experience. I’ve never seen droppings that yellow (I checked the colour; some form of lower intestinal infection).
So why am I telling you this? Because I had a session organised, my first in London since April (!!) and it was going to be a doozy. I have so many new retro outfits, ideas; I think I’ve conquered my fear of going outside so the intention was to put on a lovely black with leopard trim wiggle frock from Rock and Romance and get some pictures posing in front of the Tower Bridge.
Now a bowel infection wouldn’t stop me, and I had a couple of weeks to get better. Problem was this; my body was seriously run down at this point, my biome was in a mess and I had, being honest, been very anxious (or tranxious if you will) about Goodwood. I had IBS on top of the infection so my body was, well, bleurgh.
Four days before the session the train unions announced YET ANOTHER strike, this time directly on the day I would be travelling back. So I had stress lumped on me; after driving to London so many times and doing twenty hour session days including three hours drive back after through central London on a Saturday night I’d developed a fear of driving there, and now I would have to.
Two days before the session and I had to travel to London for work. I got drunk, like you do, and because I’m truly an idiot I ate the grossest Chinese food at 1:00am in Chinatown (let’s just say cold beef lung in vinegar is an acquired taste). Hungover I travelled home on the train, looking forward to filling a case with gorgeous frocks and just having some fun.
The next day my eye itched.
There are things you can get away with when having a session; if you have a cold you can take Lemsip just before the session to stop the dribbling nose, if you have an upset stomach you can take something to settle it. And then there are other things that just stop you dead in your tracks.
Because my body was run down it was very prone to other infections, and I got a massive sty in my right eye. There was no way I could put makeup on it; the whole lower eyelid was swollen and dark red, the eye itched terribly. And so I had, with serious regret, to postpone my session. Now, a week later, my eye is still a mess and being honest it was a massive downer.
I was soo looking forward to being Sarah again. The state of the world at the moment means everything feels bloody awful, and getting something that absolutely prohibits me from being the person that gives me pretty much the only joy I have at the moment was a kick in the (now useless due to hormones) balls.
I was cross, cross at myself for not listening to my body, cross at the world in general.
The problem with not being able to do it is when you spend a lot of time on social media you see a lot of people doing what you want to. And it makes you jealous; combine that with the fact Putin has nukes, the Government is no longer even hiding the fact that the rich matter and everyone else is just there to squeeze for the top 1% to make more money off of, and the fact that when I stare into the mirror looking at the pea size bright red lump on the bottom of my eyelid I also see the wrinkles and sagging skin and, well, I’ll let that sentence talk for itself.
Grumpy does not start to describe the way I feel. Anyway, I’m going to book another session when the eye recedes and I feel it’s OK to do it without annoying the glands on the eyelid.
I want to dress right now and if it was anything that wasn’t disfiguring I’d be having the fun I need. But it is what it is. Bah humbug.
But anyway, let’s talk about something else.
Understanding the Social Media Male mindset
Yeah, I should probably not dive into too deep a subject but again, when you’re interaction with your feminine side is curtailed you have to do something else. Personally I’ve been angrily masterbating a lot, seems to help 🙂
A little advice for people like me starting out on the Social Media journey – you need to understand the nature of the people who will tend to look at your stuff. I love the internet, it’s changed society in ways that have made me able to do things I would never have dreamt of, even as recent as twenty-five years ago. It lets me put out a side of me that I could never have embraced in the world before digital freedom. But there is a cost to it, there are traps you need to be careful of.
Firstly, remember that there are no filters with what people can say. From personal experience I am a very shy person in real life; when talking to people in the flesh I find it hard to express anything beyond ‘hello’ without second guessing everything I say. With Social Media that is not a problem at all; the insulation of a screen means that I can say what I want. Granted, I still respect the people I talk to and present to, but some people don’t (literally can’t).
We all have an idea of what we think the perfect person would be. To me, as Sarah, I’d love to (virtually) meet someone who genuinely loves the woman they see. That would treat her as a real person, with feelings, with foibles. Being brutal, I’d love to find someone who would hug Sarah. I’ve managed, through my awkwardness and terrible upbringing, to never be able to have that kind of relationship as a man with a woman.
Because of the self doubt from Real Life ™ I always assume I’m unloveable. Projecting Sarah out there gives me a way to tap into the soft and beautiful part of myself that never got a chance. The thing is, there are people out there who feel the same way, but for a man on social media, especially one who finds himself loving the idea of trans-women, cross-dressers and the like, it’s actually more difficult.
Let me explain; I can put aside all the masculine blockers in my mind when I post a picture of Sarah. I can slot into another character that is so far from the real me, in terms of femininity, sexuality and, yes, yearnings, that it is immensely freeing. An admirer (and I apologies for using that term, it’s not the best) doesn’t have that ability to put their, for lack of a better phrase, heterosexuality aside.
So what you get, even from the nicest admirer, can be the most self-hating side. Ultra sexist, saying things they’d never dream of saying to a ‘real’ woman. For every man who sends me a delightful (and I appreciate them more than I can say) message complementing me on my choice of dress, choice of shoes, colour of lipstick, there will be ten saying how much they want to f*ck me, asking how much I charge for sex, asking me if I’ll dress them (I have enough problems dressing myself).
And some people in my position like those down and dirty interactions. Again, it’s down to self-hate and I’m more than ready to admit earlier on in my journey I was there. I felt I was broken and, dare I say it, deserved to be treated badly. In fact that was part of the thrill; I’ve always thought there’s a sadomasochist side to some form of cross-dressing, the emasculation, the humiliation.
The point is that that’s not a sustainable or a really healthy fantasy if you’re already convinced you’re broken. It’s a negative force feedback loop that a lot of us let ourselves get into.
I’m being contrary; the stuff I put up on Fetlife, for example, really plays on the raw erotica side of my ‘hobby’. There are way too many pictures up there I created specifically to turn men on. Someone nicely sent me an email there earlier this week complementing me on my ability to be all the women he found attractive, and apologising for commenting in a sexual way on the pictures. I was absurdly touched and told him not to beat himself up; he was polite, his comments were delightful and respectful. It was a lovely conversation with someone who genuinely found Sarah to be sexually attractive and, most importantly, he wanted to chat about it rather than sending me a dick pic with the caption ‘U SUK THIS’.
Again, I’m grumpy, but I’d give anything to have more of that kind of man in my social media life. Constantly having to delete comments and block people gets tiring and shouldn’t be 50% of the effort a girl has to put into maintaining a Social Media presence.
When you dress as an attractive woman you will attract people. It’s just too easy to get overawed and depressed by the sheer amount of thinly veiled anger at the comments; I dress as Sarah because I am Sarah. I’m not going to turn into a £5 prostitute the minute some twenty year old logs onto Instagram with his parent’s machine and tells me I should be walking the streets and, quote, ‘sucking real men’s cocks’.
And therein lies the paradox of Social Media. I can be who I want to really be, but others can be the people, unfettered, they want to be, and some of them are a little frightening.
The key thing is; remember anything you put up will be seen by people who don’t look at it through the same eyes you do. It would be nice to not have to grow a thick skin, to be able to just ‘be’ but, I guess, you have to take the very bad with the very good.
And it doesn’t help to be……. feral
Probably (no, definitely) not the best way to follow the last little gripe on overly sexual men lurking around Social Media, but with the lack of being able to dress and the feeling of impending doom (hell, I grew up in the 80s when we expected to get nuked every other Tuesday; I was convinced this was all behind us but with Putin’s sabre rattling I end up feeling like the scared 18 year old closet transvestite terrified of the stuff shown in the TV movie ‘Threads’ every ten minutes nowadays) I have found myself getting very feral again.
Luckily feral for me doesn’t entail chucking on the sluttiest of outfits and going to the nearest ‘that kind of’ bar; also living in Hereford means the nearest bar of ill-repute is probably too far (I say probably as there are definitely places like that in this country but I’ve never looked for them). Being feral for me means dipping into my internal fantasy life with a ‘what the hell’ mindset.
The odd thing is, without the steam valve output of being able to dress, which always burns off these deep rooted needs and wants, the feral fantasies get stronger and stronger. I mentioned earlier that, in the lack of a session, I find myself having to, well, relieve myself a ridiculously large amount of times a day.
Part of me is almost impressed. I’ve read that when you (sneakily, in my case) take female hormones the first thing that disappears is your male libido, followed by any way of satisfying it (things go floppy fast). Thing is, I’ve never had what could be properly called a male libido and even after nine months of self-medication I have absolutely no problem in either ‘rising to the occasion’ or reaching ‘la petite morte’ as the French so delicately put it.
What’s mildly worrying (which is a polite way of putting it) is what I think about basically all day. My fantasies are 100% about sex as Sarah.
It occurred to me a couple of weeks ago that I no longer (and maybe never really did) get aroused at the idea of being with a woman. And also I have no urge to become a woman. But I’ve also reached, perhaps through the use of hormones, the point where I no longer feel shame and self-hate when I have those kind of fantasies.
And to be honest, they aren’t all pure sexual fantasies. I think about what it would be like to go for a meal with a man on a double date with another couple; the idea of their being two men and two women in a social situation is delightful, especially if the other woman is actually a woman.
I also fantasised about doing a ‘fake’ porn shoot. Full porn star makeup (with very full red lips), photos taken that match the standard poses you see if every 60 seconds clip on XHamster. That one pops up a lot and normally requires me to go off and deal with it so I can get on with the rest of my day.
On the subject of Xhamster; why on earth does it make me watch 10 seconds of an advert of a naked woman using a toy on herself when I click on something cross-dresser-y? Know your market, Xhamster…..
But again, I so need a session right now that my brain is flailing all over the shop; It’s an odd situation, if I don’t feed the girl inside she takes the reins and steers me in delightfully different directions.
Anyway, enough venting; if you’ve made it so far without logging off I love you. 🙂
Stay beautiful, take a deep breath, remember this is the only trip we get around and find a way to be happy. I’ll try and take my own advice, but don’t hold your breath. Unless that’s your kink, of course.
6 thoughts on “[Chat] New words – tranxiety and trannoyance”
Hi Sarah, Thank you so much for your wonderful update! Always love to hear from you and about you. Being honest too, I do think you look ravishing and incredibly sexy😍 The long red fingernails always get me. I am sure your toenails would too… 🙏💅🏽👣🦶 I do find myself becoming aroused and work hard to be polite and behave myself🤭 Good job I you don’t have to suffer me at a petit French restaurant and night club You would make an excellent dance partner!
Off now to the gym and for a quick swim.. Have a wonderful week. Look forward to hearing from you Take care Ciao Romero 👋😁👍🥰
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hang on in there Sarah you’ll be fine. We think you’re great.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This was a wonderful insight into you, it made me snort with laughter a few times and cry at others , thank you for venting Sarah
LikeLiked by 1 person
I can’t believe it took me this long to ‘find’ your blog on Fetlife.
It’s given me an insight of how you get your ‘look’, anyhow thanks for sharing your experiences.
Lexa, aka ‘dresstookill’
LikeLiked by 1 person
Firstly can I just say Sarah, how so, so sorry I am to hear at how poorly you have become. ☹️
I know from our chats that you had mentioned some ‘digestive distress’ but I never realised it was quite as bad as that! 😱 Plus now all of the problems with your eye too. 😔 Well let’s just say that I wish that I could give you a big hug and tell you that everything will get better. 🤗 XXX
It’s clear that you are very run down on many levels sweetie so please promise me that you will try to rest as much as you can and look after yourself? When your gut and immune system are struggling you can open yourself up to all manner of nasties. 😕
And your health is important to both sides of you. 🙂 XXXX
Now, this reply is going to be a bit long because you have crammed a lot into your insightful blog post and there’s a lot to unpack. 🙂
I’m so pleased that you were able to go and have such a wonderful time with your friend Sarah. 🙂 I hope that you will take from it the belief in yourself that you are a feminine and beautiful woman, and have the confidence to ‘boldly go’ where you have never gone before. 🙂 I also hope that you will consider going back to it too.
But perhaps, choose a different restaurant to eat in. 😉
I think you are thoroughly in your element there and now know that it is a safe environment. 🙂
And going back to ‘boldly going’, I really hope that you are able to venture outside with Cindy and give that gorgeous Rock and Romance dress a serious showing off!!! 😊 I know *exactly* the dress you are talking about as I have it myself. 🙂 Though I know who will look spectacularly gorgeous in it, and it won’t be me! 😊 😘 XXX
And moving on to your next point about being poorly and not being able to dress, well… What can I say except that you have all of my sympathies. ☹️ The state of mind you are talking about here; mentally and emotionally are my defaults all the time. This year I have managed to dress twice. And only once in make-up. 😕 I’m not going to lie about it, I am finding it all very bloody difficult to deal with. 😔 And I have been on the point of tears on far more occasions than I would like.
So I really hope that you are able to visit Cindy sooner rather than later because I know exactly how you’re feeling. XXX
Understanding the Social Media Male mindset:
Yeah I don’t think there’s any easy way to deal with this one. 😅
Sometimes we need a *distraction* from the situations we can’t easily control and certain platforms on the Internet can help. 😉 XX
And finding solace in onanisticly helpful imagery that are in line with our personal peccadilloes is so much more than it used to be. 😅 Though I have to add that my own imagination can also be a useful, fertile and also ridiculous solution to struggle with our thoughts and feelings. 😁
Also I find that planning different looks with my available wardrobe (the sometimes adding items to my internal wishlist) a pleasant distraction. Whether they are ever achieved or not. 🙂 XXX
And of course there are other distractions that are often driven not only by our gender fluid libidos but with our interactions with those who admire us. I understand why you don’t like the use of the word but also why it is still useful.
I think the main problem here is that when *we* present ourselves on social media platforms, we want to look and be our best. We present an ideal to the world of the best version of us that we can. And I think that it’s sometimes easy for those who view us, to see us in their own terms of their own ideals. In my many interactions with admirers over the years (though I’m sure, not as many as yourself), I’ve had the whole gamut of pleasantries to outright nastiness. I think it’s safe to say that those who objectify us as nothing more than sex objects, probably do (or would if they could) treat those born female in exactly the same way. And to be honest I block and/or report those to the relevant social platforms.
But there are others who are genuinely more pleasant and like most girls like *us* I don’t mind a little bit of flattery. 🙂
Most of my communications are are with other girls with whom I have built up a friendship. Obviously yourself is included too. 😊 But I do have one very long term male friend who I talk with very often. And the nicest part is that it isn’t *all* about the slap and tickle. Like you say, there’s a certain way in which we would like to be treated in our feminine expression and that is with genuine warmth and affection. The intimacy that may arise from that is all part and parcel of it. 🙂 XXXX
And I suppose that leads us to that last part…. The ‘Feral’ side of us.
There are obviously times when no amount of warmth and affection can replace our – for want of a better word – lust! 😅 I think that sexuality is a strange and weird thing and in some of us, fairly flexible. All I can say is that when I saw Stephen Amell with his shirt off, I decided then that he could stab me with his “arrow” whenever he wanted! 😁😉 XXX
I know that fantasy enters into this quite a lot but I can safely say that you are not the only person who dreams of a sexual encounter as their feminine self. 🙂 😉😘
Mine don’t just include intimacy with ‘men’ but other girls like us. Though considering the number of years we have known each other, you probably knew that already! 😁 😅 XXX I can tell you that your idea for a seventies style porn shoot has already given me plenty of naughty thoughts! 😍 And I’m not going to apologise for them! 😊 😘 XXX
Stay safe and well my beautiful, dear friend. I hope that Sarah is able to walk free in front of Tower Bridge very soon.
after reading this post I feel very sorry for what you’ve been going through.
Thanks for sharing even the bad days and not just the nice and happy things.
This makes you even more human and lovable, because it makes you a real person and not someone who pretends or act to be someone she’s not.
Obviously I was first attracted by you because of your amazing, wonderful looks, but I also feel there’s much more behind those looks.
Every different look you create it’s one of a woman I could fall in love with, in the real world.
And I have many fantasies about you, but they’re not all of sexual nature.
I see you as a beautiful, nice woman, and that’s all. So I fantasize how nice it would be to be your man. Going out for dinner or drinks, walking hand by hand, kissing you, talking and laughing, sitting on the sofa watching movies, cuddling, kissing again… and hopefully making love. That’s what you inspire me to fantasize of.
I hope you are getting well and that you might be able to have the session you couldn’t have before.
Take care my dear.
Love from your italian admirer.
LikeLiked by 1 person