Moving On

When I contemplated the title for this post, My mind turned to a trucking song by Merle Haggard. I like Merle, but his song didn’t seem to fit. I went to You Tube and found this Bad Company clip from 2010. It became my theme song.

My subject differs from the lyrics, however, they say,


I get up in the morning and it's just another day

Pack up my belongings, I've got to get away

Jump into a taxi and the time is gettin' tight

I go to keep on movin' on I got a show tonight

It’s not just another day.

As I wrote last time, I finally answered my questions. I am a woman. I know, I’ve lived my life in boy mode, but I’m retrieving my life. This blog has been about recreational crossdressing. So, since I’m calling myself transgender, working toward transition, it’s a brand new day. I’m so happy and I moved to another blog. Come see me at http://tgbabysteps.blogspot.com

I'll need your prayers and good Karma wishes.

                                      Love Francine

Congratulate me—It’s a Girl.

As you know, I’ve been analyzing my feelings and motivation behind my Cross dressing habit. I remember some of the same fierce hazing as you do. I failed gym class six-years in a row because I wouldn’t participate. If I ever did suit up, as the teacher called it, I wouldn’t shower and endure the taunts my breasts would cause.

Like all of you, I made attempts to fit in, but with tender feelings and lack of motivation, I failed miserably. Another thing I endured teasing about, was my tiny penis. I had opportunities for sex, but at 16, I had impotency problems. I needed to be seduced and girls just didn’t understand.

Right about now, you’re thinking of a tiny fiddle playing my heart bleeds for you. You had many of those problems yourself. We could go on and on, you and I, but something happened, last night. I found some feminization hypnosis MP3s for sale on the Internet and I listened to the sample.

I can’t believe how happy it made me feel. I finished the session with a smile on face. I’m no longer a cross dresser. I’m a woman. Well, I’m a woman in training. A baby girl was born last night and I can’t wait for transition. Mostly I can’t wait for the hormones. I believe I have XXY syndrome and I need a diagnosis.

Francine Nicole Keller in 2004

I’ve started a new program of diet and exercise in prelude to saving up for the therapist. I know it will take time, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I have a female brain and a useless, poorly configured, male body.

I’m going to have all the typical issues to deal with. I’m beyond middle age, and my family expects me to be a man. How unfair it is to our wives and children. So I’m ready to take all the steps. Like the baby girl I am, I’ll learn to walk slowly, then I intend to run.

By the way, My name is Francine Nicole Keller. Not even close to the name I was given before,
but the initials are there.

She's Back

Last time, I wrote that I’d made a resolution. I’d put everything in a suitcase and decided to man up. Well, screw the resolution, I’m out of the suitcase.

We all know about purge episodes, and I just passed through a major one. The guilt, the pain of seeing what I really look like, and being honest about it, drove me into remission. Then, I kept thinking about that time my body produced so much estrogen. It was a hard time, with health issues, but I fell in love with certain things.

My arms shrank. Hair disappeared from my forearms. My skin was softer, and there were sexual blessings too. Without talking about the details, I am hetero, but I don’t get it at home. During the time of the hormones, however, I dreamed about being seduced by men.

I miss the effects of whatever was happening to me during that time, and I want them back.

I’ve always loved crossing the gender line, and I wish I could’ve transitioned when I was a teen. I think my life would’ve been better. I would’ve been a pretty girl. All of that could’ve, should’ve, would’ve, doesn’t matter now. I am what I am.

The transgender life beckons me, and I know what I look like. Still, in my dreams I’m the woman I always wanted to be. The lure of satin panties under a half-slip and a tweed skirt is too strong. It’s time to make some changes. It’s time to toss the suitcase and fill up my closet. I’m back, and I contacted a local support group. Other than blog posts, I’ve never talked about this to anyone. I’m afraid of revealing myself to others, but it’s time to let the chips fall, and reinvent my life.

Wish me good luck.



Love, Francine

Oh Damn!

I made a resolution the other day. After looking at myself in the mirror. I locked my clothes in the suitcase and proceeded to man up. I know, how many times is that?

I peruse blogs and see the pictures of pretty trans women and I compare me to them. I am lacking. I'm extremely overweight again and dressing is just one more secret in an already secret life.

Then I woke up this morning with an intense desire to pamper myself. I wanted to slip into a bra and panties and peruse my closet for something stunning to wear.

But alas, I cannot. I'm surrounded by people who expect me to be male. I might go crazy. I might just give up. I want to give in. Oh damn!