Ricky

Polly Chapter 8 of 25 - Confusion

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Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash

Chapter 8 - Confusion

Confusion. A fine old word, comes from the Latin confundere, meaning mingle together. Now there's a concept that describes a young crossdresser - or maybe trans-something - if there ever was one.

Polly Chapter 7 of 25 - The Shopping Test

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Chapter 7 - The Shopping Test

Cannon Beach is an unabashed tourist town. The City Parents - no sexism here with City Fathers, please - wisely kept the beach open to everyone, building the requisite yuppie condos far back from the shore. Come sunset you can see couples strolling hand in hand or dogs joyfully running flat out, all outlined against the sea and the setting sun. There's usually someone starting a fire from the driftwood with the family clustered close for the warmth.

Polly Chapter 6 of 25 - The Date

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Chapter 6 - The Date

Once Peter and Sheila were over the peak of the mountains and descending the western side the road followed a stream that splashed and danced over the rocks as it ran through the verdant forest. At each turn in the road a magnificent new vista was revealed and Sheila was enchanted by the scenery.

"I had no idea any of this was here, Pete. It's beautiful."

Polly Chapter 5 of 25 - The Inquisition

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Chapter 5 - The Inquisition

Saturday morning found our hero up early, excited and conflicted. Excited to be going on a date, excited because Sheila was a vivacious, sexy, intelligent girl who wanted to go on a date with him. Conflicted because Sheila was entirely too intelligent and perceptive and seemed to be able to see through into the parts of him he often tried to hide from himself.

And Sheila had actually kissed him.

Polly Chapter 4 of 25 - The Phone Call

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Photo by Ally Sherman http://www.Facebook.com /FortLauderdaleSeasidePhotography
 
Chapter 4 - The Phone Call

As Pete walked through the door of his high school on Monday morning the was greeted by an enthusiastic "Damn Pete! You look like crap!"

"Feel like it, too," mumbled Pete.

Polly Chapter 3 of 25 - The Pink Bra

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Chapter 3 - The Pink Bra

Pete spent much of the day on Saturday wondering if that pink bra would still be there when he returned. The Scouts had been drafted as workhorses to move things for the church, they weren't involved in the sale itself, so the day passed mowing the lawn and hanging with Dave and a couple of others at the park. Pretty much what he did most weekends.

Polly Chapter 2 of 25 - Questions

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Chapter 2 - Questions

Trustworthy, loyal helpful
Friendly, courteous, kind
Obedient, cheerful, thrifty
Brave, clean and reverent
 

On his way home from the church, those words from Scouting kept running through Pete's mind. That and he actually had a date with Sheila.

Polly Chapter 1 of 25 - The Rummage Sale

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Chapter 1 - The Rummage Sale

"OK you guys, listen up!"

Pete Zimmerman's attention focused on the Scoutmaster of Troop 36, Boy Scouts of America, which was meeting in the basement the Baptist Church. The meeting was just about over and Ron Brockman, colloquially known as "Brock" to all and sundry, was making his announcements in the vain hope that some of the boys would be listening and maybe even remember some of them.

Somebody Swiped My Idea!

A while ago I wrote The Spot, in which our hero is transformed into our heroine by video magic into a woman and whisked to an exotic locale simply by opening a bottle of the sopnsor's dish soap. Of course he learns to like it and lives happily ever after in women's clothes.

Imagine my surprise when I saw this in the detergent aisle of the supermarket. I have to wonder if it would work for me if I started using the stuff.

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Girlzilla

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Girlzilla

By Ricky

I'd been sharing my cousin's dresses since we were toddlers. What else could you call a six foot five inch boy in a dress and his six foot four inch female cousin but Girlzilla?

Telling the Kids

Ouch, the things you learn from your kids! I suppose every parent goes through this sort of thing, but being able to talk with your now adult children reveals some interesting things you were not aware of when they were growing up. Specifically, I gained some insights into the age old question "Do we tell the kids?" I have a message for all you closeted crossdressers with children: you don't have to tell them, they already know.

TANSTAAFL

Tanstaafl. Sounds like a sneeze or something vaguely Russian. The meaning of the word is best shown in a story retold freely from the writing of Robert A. Heinlein, the inventor of the water bed and the coiner of the word. Seems a young man, newly hired as a traveling salesman, was passing through a new town about lunchtime. Stopping at a likely looking taproom, he enters to find a large sign stating: "FREE LUNCH WITH YOUR DRINK!"

The Talk Show

Hey wow, me on the television!

It all started when I got a call from someone with the Sally Opra Donahue Show. Their schedule said it was time to put a crossdresser on exhibit and they wondered if I was interested. Someone down there had been reading my columns, it seems. I patiently explained that I was known as the Bearded Lady for good reason, I had a full, dark, bushy beard and was unlikely to be seen as a woman. The only response was "Hey - kinky. That's great! The audience will love it."

Don't Sweat It

I have been reading TV literature for about twenty years now, and one thing I have noticed is that there seems to be an aversion to speaking about bodily functions. (No, I will not descend to the level of toilet humor, thank you. For that you can watch cable TV.) This always seemed to me rather odd, as we put so much effort into changing our bodies. Way back when, when I was experimenting with creating a more feminine figure, I would have loved advice on how to do it, but such intimate details were not available.

Spageti Straps for Crossdressers

We crossdressers are a creative bunch. With a little paint, some strategically shaped padding and no little imagination we can create a feminine exterior to match our interior being. Admit it now, when your are dressed from head to toe and there is no one else in the house haven't you ever stood in front of the mirror and sung some pop hit by your favorite female singer and thrilled to the applause from the looking glass?

Society Made Me Do It

It's hard to cope with having your world view turned upside down. As crossdressers we all know society disapproves of us. We hide in closets, shop in catalogs or venture timidly to the women's section if suitably inspired. For those of us who are significantly over the norm in size it is a challenge to find a nice dress. That's the conventional wisdom, isn't it?

The Skeptical Crossdreser

Help, I'm overdosed on TV newsletters, magazines books and handouts. Life has been busy of late, and just about everything I found in the PO box has gotten tossed into a pile at the back of the closet, waiting time to read it. So the holiday weekend came and I had time to dress up, lay back and read. I read it all at first, then found myself skipping around a bit, then jumping over whole articles on the title alone.

Size Discrimination

I am a victim of discrimination. Sure, sure, you've heard it before. What crossdresser hasn't experienced discrimination. Just put on a dress to mow the grass and you can absolutely rely on being discriminated against by your family, the neighbors, and the lawn care service. Go shopping for a new girdle and the prejudiced salespeople won't even consider letting you try it on in the changing room. Wear a frilly skirt to work and no one will compliment you on how the colors match your beard. A crossdresser's life is a hard one, but you already know that.

Shaving For The First Time

If a man in woman's clothing has a odd ring to it then a 6'2", 250# wolf in sheep's clothing is surely fair game for some hearty guffaws. If there is one thing serious about the situation it is that I have enjoyed bras, panties and garters for the last 20 years. I still do, but I only enjoy this apparel in the privacy of a motel room or other secluded setting. When I dress it is for the feel of the clothing and the intrinsic pleasure it brings, and this pleasure is largely separate from the rest of my life.

Security

The issue of security came up recently in a letter to one of my sisters. Security must be of overriding concern for many transvestites, and many of us would be in a poor position if they were found out. To me it seems that the security issue can be broken into two parts, public and personal.

The Right to Crossdress?

I'm a happy crossdresser, but I'm still confused. Maybe it's just me, but why are so many of my sisters so dissatisfied with their life, and that of their sisters? Lately it seems that all I see are articles about how we must fight for our rights, demand that our wives, children pets and the general public accept us uncritically, and grant us our every wish.

The Problem of Pockets

Something funny happened the first time my family spent a week at the now infamous home of Jim Bakker, Heritage Village USA. Since I am not a Christian and had to work anyway, I spent the week as a bachelor. Well, not exactly a bachelor, more a bachelorette. I hate that word, it is as awkward as some of the supposed "sexual-bias-free" creations that grace the media these days, and I have a whole new understanding of those libbers who object to those sexist terms.

The Perils of Sewing

There's something wrong here. It says on my resume, of which I have mailed out approximately 6.37 billion in the last year of semi-employment, that I am a highly skilled electromechanical technician. It says a lot of other glowing things, but in essence it means I can go into a factory somewhere and quickly understand and repair several millions of dollars worth of complex machinery that is doing something the normal maintenance staff cannot fix. At the risk of hubris I'm good at it too. So why is it that the common household sewing machine strains my abilities to the breaking point and beyond.

Overdosing on Dressing

Have you ever had a dream come true? Silly question, that - if you have been on the planet for long enough to be able to learn to read something good must have happened to you along that line. What would be a dream come true for a crossdresser? OK, OK, enough suggestions from the audience, I get the idea. Do you dream of being able to dress full time when not working, live alone, never need to consider anyone else's feelings, do what you darn well please when you want to do it? Unlimited freedom, self expression, fulfillment of your every desire!

Outing

Sometimes life is disillusioning. I have sat here in my closet for about twenty years now, and for the past five or so the door has been open far enough to hand out these columns. Believe it or not, I really don't have a great urge to fling the door open and come out in my finest. I know that I am too far from the feminine norm to ever be more than a conspicuous fraud, but it doesn't bother me. I enjoy dressing for the sake of dressing, and enjoy the company of my sisters once removed via the post office.

New Age Nonsense

Welcome, my sisters, into the world of the New Age. Listen to the formless music in the background. Hear the muted chanting of a choir of True Believers. Abandon your previous self to the teachings of Mother Earth. Feel the innate power of the mysterious Female Life Force flow into your sadly male body. Read the articles in crossdressing magazines filled with terms like "oneness", "karma", "pansexuality" and even "reincarnation." Recently I even learned that women have superior hearing to enable them to be better mothers.

My Qualifications as a Crossdresser

How ironic! While looking for something in my files the other day I found I have been writing about crossdressing more than ten years now. The problem is, I now realize I am completely unqualified to be a crossdresser, let alone a writer on the subject. Think about it - just what are the qualifications for a crossdresser? Surely you've read a multitude of "true life stories" in the crossdressing magazines. Perhaps if we were to distill all these stories we can come up with a set of qualifications for a true crossdresser.

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