Wednesday, August 28, 2013

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

I'll need your prayers and good Karma wishes.

                                      Love Francine

Sunday, August 25, 2013

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.

Friday, August 23, 2013

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

Saturday, August 17, 2013

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!

Friday, July 19, 2013

Are You Wearing a Bra?

I had a dream the other night in which I wore a nice periwinkle shirt over a black bra. After interacting with several people, including my wife, I noticed the fabric of my shirt was translucent and I could see my bra.

In the dream, nobody asked the question above. I was curious as to why. I was a man wearing a woman’s foundation garment, not to mention a shirt with the buttons on the other side, and nobody cared.

The implications of the experience shocked me. I began to wonder if people would care if I came out of the closet.

After careful consideration, I closed the door of closet and went back to my double life. The house of cards I built in my life stands as a monument of self-control. I will not tell another soul.

                                              Love, Francine

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Crossing the Line

It’s been a real struggle keeping one foot in the feminine and the other in the masculine. Crossing the line between worlds creates problems in each. Lately, I’ve found myself in the male side too much, and I wonder if he’s taking over. It hasn’t been a purge cycle, but it feels like one.

It would be easier if I lost 150 pounds and the boy didn’t have to be so masculine. There’s a battle raging and one side is winning, but tonight I’m crossing the line. In the time since the illness I mentioned last time, hair has grown back in places it used to be. Tonight, I shaved those places.

I took a shower and dressed in; pink panties, cargo shorts, and maroon tank top. I look like a fat old man, (See above 150 pounds) but I’m going to Wally world. I need another shot of estrogen (where ever it came from).

I’ve noticed a trend in the Trans world lately that bothers me. People seem to be turning their back on God. It saddens me because hateful people use God as a shield for their hatred.

God loves them as much as he loves you. He doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t make mistakes either. Narrow minded people feel threatened by those who would force them to believe certain things. When you attack their beliefs about God you are doing the same thing to them, that you fear from them.

There are bigots on all sides, so please stop blaming God for other peoples actions. He didn’t do it.

Now, tonight, I cross the line. Wish me luck.

                                                                 Love Francine

Friday, May 31, 2013

The Magic Hormone

I’m at a crossroads, sort of. I’ve been doing the research lately, keeping my argumentative side in check, and coming up with no answers. Just more questions.

I read a blog post about Estrogen therapy at crossdreamers the other day. The comments were wide and varied. I enjoyed reading about the experiences of others and began to crave the hormone. Then I realized the symptoms were familiar.

Without going into detail, I suffered from several mysterious illnesses that began about 4 years ago. During that time I learned about my hypertension, an ultrasound revealed a leg clot, and myriad other things made life miserable. I also began to lose fat in some places and put it on in others. My skin felt softer, and my nipples were hypersensitive.

I completely enjoyed kneading my nipples, and stroking my skin, but my penis seemed to shrink. Also, my sex drive had diminished. After reading about some of the effects of HRT the other day, I began to wonder.

I had a theory about an estrogen overdose, but where could it have come from? I hadn’t taken hormones and I was deep in the closet. In my research, I looked for possible natural sources.

No matter how I got it during that time, I decided I wanted more. I can’t explain it. I just liked it. While looking into natural sources, I stumbled upon something I’d heard about before, but never paid much attention. I found the XXY syndrome or Klinefelter’s Syndrome. Simply put, women are born with two X chromosomes, and men have one X and one Y. According to Klinefelter, some people are born with two X chromosomes and one Y.

I looked at those symptoms and started to rearrange my thinking. I began to examine my life and it made sense. The symptoms of XXY are:

  • Abnormal body proportions (long legs, short trunk, shoulder equal to hip size)
  • -Abnormally large breasts (gynecomastia)
  • -Infertility
  • -Sexual problems
  • -Less than normal amount of pubic, armpit, and facial hair
  • Small, firm testicles
  • -Tall height

At the risk of appearing like a transgender MTF who claims a bad case of Gender Dysphoria just to get their desires, I marked those symptoms that apply to me. You’ll notice I have all, but two.

I don’t know when I began to imagine myself as a girl, but my father always claimed I had tender feelings. My brother liked the boy’s games. I liked playing make believe. I had trouble with my schoolwork. In first-grade, my girlfriend beat up the boys who picked on me.

During puberty, my breasts developed. I always attributed it to being fat. I quit attending gym class because the boys made fun of my breasts. At night, I gave myself pleasure through nipple manipulation and I pretended to be a girl. I remember anticipating the end of the school year, so I could sleep in my mother’s slip and not worry about being discovered in the morning when it was time to get up for school.

At about that time, I began to imagine day to day (non-sexual) situations as a girl. I looked at the Sears and Penny’s catalogs shopping for clothes. I learned to dress as a girl, but wasn’t able to do it, other than the clothes I made, and the laundry basket full of my mother’s stuff.

Those were the days when reconstructive surgery was done in foreign countries. Definitely out of this kid’s grasp. The irony and perhaps the tragedy of that is the fact, I was once feminine. I look at the pictures and I see a pretty girl.

I kept wishing for a magic spell but I knew it would never be. I think what kept me from the proverbial black capsule (Mash 1970) was my attraction to girls. I didn’t understand my desires to be one, and I didn’t think other boys had sensitive nipples, but I learned to bury the possibilities. I was a boy and that was that.

Sex with a girl, however, was difficult. I couldn’t get an erection on demand. Kissing, and making out stirred my soul, but I dreaded the moment when I would have to perform. How could I explain that I needed to be stimulated? I needed to have my skin stroked. I needed an emotional connection. I needed to be seduced.

When I got married, I managed. Poorly, but I managed. She didn’t understand my desire to be held, or my need for nipple play. I wanted all the things from her that she wanted from me. I was the man, damn it, and I’d better be one.

Now I’m in my fifties, and I’ve rallied around the Gender Dysphoria flag. There are those, however, who question that diagnosis too. According to one school of thought, we, (most transgender MTF) suffer from a condition called Androphilia. Simply put, We sexually fantasize about being a woman, having sex as a woman, etc.

To be fair, I’m sure there are many who do that, but when I look over my life experiences I see a male with a female mind. I tried to be the man everyone wanted me to be, and I failed. I’m convinced that my Gender Dysphoria is only a symptom of XXY syndrome.

If it’s true, and I have an extra X, so many things would make sense. Including how I got all that estrogen. Now if I can only figure out what activated the X. I would do it again. I still think it’s too late for transition, but I’ve started having dreams about manly men, taking an interest in me. I would love to be seduced. I also wish I had the money for a DNA test.

On the other hand, I had a sexual dream the other night about a young, sexy girl, I’ve never met. I was myself, but performing in true masculine form. Maybe the answer is testosterone . . .


With Love, Francine