O, for a pair

The leg-centric photos you see peppered throughout my blog maybe, kind of, sort of tell you a little about my obsessions. Feminine territory south of the equator has always been right at the core of my imaginings and explorations. That said, we are Mammals, and as such, are drawn, to one degree or another by, well, the Mams. And yes, this leg fan has a special place in mind for breasts.

They are warm, yielding, responsive, symmetrical, ever present and usually out of reach. They hide. I seek. I want to watch them, touch them, taste them. And I want a pair of my own.

Young(er) Petra experimented. Balled up socks. Rolled up panty hose. Rice poured into sheer knee-highs. Wrong, all wrong.

Middle aged Petra has more choice and experience. And a little more budget too. And access to a terrific world of online shopping possibilities. Easiest thing on the planet these days to Google up breast forms, land up on Suddenly Fem, Glamour Boutique, or a host of others, and drop anywhere between $150 and $300 for a spectacular pair of silicon breasts. There are a couple of problems though:

1. Even in a plain brown wrapper, it is difficult for me to be certain that I would be at home to intercept the delivery. My wife of many years past, and hopefully many years ahead would have some really pointed questions for me. and


2. I have some chest hair I cannot find a plausible excuse to shave off. Which means I can get the shape, but how o how to organize the cleavage?
   
   I came really really close this autumn, and want to explain how to you. Pour a glass of wine and take a moment with me. I had our home empty for a few weeks, and Petra just took my hand and got busy.

A couple of years ago, I experimented with Liquid Latex Mold material. Terrific stuff. About $12.00 a jar, available at Michaels Craft Stores. Order on-line, or (if your inner Petra orders you around too, just go to the nearest store – always yield to that voice if you know what’s good for you…).

So, this stuff requires patience. It needs to be brushed into the mold in thin, thin and even coats. The coats require ample drying time. Keep a hair dryer handy. You will get the hang of it in time. To get the right balance between durability and flexibility, 6-8 coats has worked for me. While you are coating the bust form, be sure to be making a 12” x 12” square of the same material with the same number of coats. You will cut and use these parts to seal the breast cavity later.

Now, the surface color of the material when it dry’s out is an unattractive jaundiced yellow. Not exactly a come-hither look. No problems. Liquid foundation is the solution. Don’t worry about using up the expensive name brand stuff here. Just match your own complexion with really cheap, Sally Beauty Supply stuff (or go to Target or wherever). Pour in and dilute. Assuming a kind of pale Caucasian complexion, the latex should be lighter then your skin tone. It will dry slightly darker.

Extra bonus points no matter what way you do this. En Femme, and its just another terrific day out. In drab, and you are making one of those peculiar purchases that you can either stammer away …” its for my girlfriend”, or you can say nothing (most often) or just for the total thrill of it, you can say “ this is for me… is it any good? You might make a new friend.

Now, what to mold it into? Easier than you think. Wherever you live there is a store fixture shop. Here in Atlanta, there is a company called Bland Enterprises. Just outside the perimeter on Jimmy Carter. Believe it or not, you can get a nice plastic female bust form for under $20.00. Now, a quick qualifying note. If you are a full figured girl, you may need to look further afield. You are resourceful – go hunting. For me, the typical bust form is about perfect in size. I wear a 34C. The downside for me is I have a hard time shopping for men’s clothing. Ah well.

So, paint on the inside, up to the neck line, out to the ribs, right to the arm holes. You are making a half-body mold. It can get a little tricky. It took me some experimenting and some failure. It will for you too. Here we go:

1. Fill and seal one breast at a time. You will need to adjust the tilt of the bust form (laying face down) in order to get maximum fill. The latex mold is good enough. I have some other suggestions at the end.


2. Seal the filled breast as air-tight as possible with the spare latex sheet you have been building. You will need to approximate the shape and cut a template with a little guesswork.


3. Paint the edges over with the latex mold to ensure a tight seal. 3 coats before repeating the process on the 2nd breast.

Now, you have a front half. You need a back half. Find the best supporting bra you have. Or go on a new shopping adventure. Flesh tone, wide shoulder strap, 3 row, 3 column back-closure bra. And go ahead ... tell the nice lady its for you. JCPenny is great value for bras. And the girls in the lingerie department have been so nicely flustered by me, I can barely stand it.

And now, disassemble the bra. That’s right, separate the front from the back. Super-glue the back half to the natural meeting places on your new front-half. Presto.

Slide arms through holes, pull up close to your neck, clasp in back, and behold thy lovely shape. Now you are not finished yet unless you are an absolute genius. Next steps as follows:

1. You may need to adjust the fill for more fullness. In fact, count on it. Go to Krogers. Buy a pastry nozzle kit for $2.00. Cut a small incision on the inside of each breast and squeeze full to capacity. Patch the incision with some of your scrap (super-glue is the right stuff) paint a couple of coats over it, and yum. Ready to jiggle.


2. You may need to trim away excess latex. Sharp exacto knife on a hard cutting surface. Do not trim on the plastic bust form.

Now, then. I got some great reviews on my shape. But was disappointed in a couple of ways. Bad news first.

Issue 1. Using the latex mold material as breast fill material made my new parts just a little too firm. I really wanted more jiggle. Additionally, my breasts did not create the desired cleavage even under pressure some a serious Victoria’s Secret padded underwire miracle number.

Solution: Next time I am going to use a liquid soap. I think it will remain a little more fluid.

Issue 2. I had slightly uneven breast swell line at the top. I think this was down to the way I sealed the cavities.
Solution: I am going to use transparent plastic next time rather then the cut latex sheet. I think this will diminish the stress felt underneath the “skin” that causes imperfect lift and cleavage appearance.

I got a lot of really positive reviews on the shape from some real experts. Anna and Becky up at everyones favorite CD friendly foundation garment shop the

Lingerie Mart in Alpharetta were totally impressed. I had cocktails with some really nice women who prefer the company of women (surely, Lesbians have got to be the real authorities on breasts …. correct?) who thought I had done great work.

My own transformation consultant was encouraging but not so impressed. Again, the feel was just too too firm. I am going to try the traditional glue-on silicon forms the next time we get together just to see what I am up against.

I feel as though I attempted to climb Mr. Everest, and just ran out of oxygen a couple of hundred feet shy of the summit. I will climb again and build the perfect breast some day soon. I really believe it is possible to have a look similar to these beauties on the right, and elsewhere in my imagination. If you have similar stories, mis-haps, advice or want to share with me your stories of getting the real deal done (silicon injections that is), I would be thrilled to hear from you.

Please feel free to work on this method and improve it where you can. I hope you get great results. I really felt better, more attractive and more natural out en femme then ever before in part as a result of all of this thinking and effort. It would please me greatly if you get the same feeling too.

Best - Petra

Petra gets Polished by a Pro

A very busy Friday. And a totally drab Friday. Late in afternoon took a close, close, shave, and put on some clean drab. Today was a big day. I had settled on visiting Paris Decatur later that night. I knew that anything before 10:00 would be ghastly, unfashionably early. And here I was getting makeup at 5:30. In mens clothing.

Now, I have no problem staying en femme for that long a time, however, there is the matter of calls of nature. For me, when I go out, I figure the outer limit of when I need to come home is just how long I can hold my water. Here are a couple of the whys:

1. I am really just never certain which bathroom to use, and
2. There are a lot of layers and a lot of real effort required to get it all locked in place. I sometimes crack a sweat in the effort. This is to be avoided in public. And certainly to be avoided when a little drunk.

So, khakis and button-down shirts and off to a beautiful home in the Morningside neighborhood. "R" smiled and made me feel at home. We had 1 hour to work with before her real engagement for the evening arrived, and so, upstairs to the lair we go.

It’s a totally self contained princess palace. "R" offers a B&B service so that clients can really occupy their feminine space. Big walk in closet off the bedroom with a real salon chair, mirrors galore, wigs beyond counting and 3 walls of wardrobe, shoes and boots. Quite impressive.

She studied me in the real light. Turned me away from view of the mirrors and then started into the transformation. Dry powder concealer. Real theatrical makeup over the beard lines. Dry foundation dusting over the rest of my face and neck. And then the epic battle on my eyes.

Drama, she had mentioned the night before, and drama she started to impose on my face. I was asking questions and without a view of the action, could only guess. Cool and thick eyeliner. Mascara that felt like it was grabbing and tugging my lashes on the way through. Glimmering, silvery eye shadow highlights worked from the outer limits of my brow line down into dark warm and lush browns on my lids.

"R" stopped working time to time. And just looked. Her face gave away nothing. Clearly she is serious about this work. She said she was going for smokey. Sounded just like what I was after. And I believe she got it. Back to work on cheeks, finished on lips, and turned the chair mirror-wise for me. Spectacular. I just wanted to look. And look. Words are usually easy for me, but they just failed at that moment. And this with me still in drab and my own hair.

 

Ah, yes, hair … I really hadn’t thought about it. R asked about what I was planning to wear that evening. I mentioned pretty much what I had on the night before. My wig was at home, it was still light out, and my face was totally glowing. Perhaps a little femme hair would help out for the drive home. ... She pulled a black bob cut number out and drew it down over my own stuff.  

One more step closer to paradise. I did not realize until that moment that like most things in life, money makes a difference, and that is clearly the case in the wig department. This mop was more a expensive and much more lustrous wig then mine. And damn but it made a huge difference. I totally crushed on g-girls with this hair back in the day. I could not believe I had that look myself.

This artist with whom I was loving more by the moment humored me with 2 other choices, but there was really never any contest. This look was totally Petra. I promised to bring it back in terrific shape over the weekend, and that worked well. 

"R" took a couple of photos, I gave her a big old hug, thanked her profusely, and fully knew that Petra was going to come out and go places she had only dreamed of before that night.

Petra seeks professional help

Without Google, I am nothing.

I had been out enough recently to know that while I was making progress on wardrobe and walk, I was stuck in the ditch on make up. The liquid Lancôme products were not covering over the dreaded shadow. Something, simply had to be done.

Many CD cosmetic guides inform that if you are not starting with Dermablend, then you are doomed to being clocked. Google up “DermaBlend” and the possibilities are endless. With patience and planning, I could have ordered on-line. But when Petra gets busy, well she jumps to the front of the line, peep-toe pumps tapping and no damned delays for even overnight express shipping at a premium of $17.95. Forget planning. Petra is a hurricane.

ULTA Cosmetics seemed like the most likely environment to get satisfaction. Had enough time to visit in drab before a lunch with a colleague. Beautiful store. A little thin on the sales floor with help, but soon enough I was chatting with a totally cute young thing who I suppose was expecting to help me pick up a nice anniversary gift box.

“I need some Dermablend to cover up my beard line. Can you help me?”

“Ummmm .... (nervous laugh)...Let me see if I can find an aesthetician for you”

Cool. Always willing to work with qualified professionals. It took about 5 minutes for a knock-out of a sister to emerge, listen to my tale, and then indicate that she really did not know the line well enough to do me justice. The real expert was going to be in at 4:00 that afternoon if I wanted to pop back in.

I said I might, but knew that Petra already had a date later in the afternoon.

Fearing that even my best efforts at self-applying make-up were simply never going to yield fruit, the night before I had Googled yet again.

“Atlanta Transformation” was the keyword. 1st ranked result was as follows:

Bulls-eye. The very thing. Checked out the site, liked what I saw (wished the photos were just a little more …. hot), but particularly loved that a free consult (in the form of a 30 minute chit-chat) was on offer.

I left a message on her machine, and figured I had some time for myself. I managed to get my panty girdle up to just over my knees when my cell phone rang in the next room. I had to do the hobble-kneed, jumpy-spazzy run breathless to the phone.

R was cheerful and calm. We needed to meet. We picked a coffee shop. I mentioned I was going to be en femme. Well, that was unusual for a first meeting. But I don’t have any hang ups with (and plenty of exposure to) unusual.

I was troubled by one thing only before heading out: Coffee Shop. Again, no particular problem with being “clocked”, just kind of felt that my voice and our topics of conversation would stand out as … well maybe just a little too much for a late afternoon caffeine crowd. We changed locale to a newish Thai joint with poor lighting, and made 5:30 a date.

So, my outfit: Skin-tight Danskin back-zip, snap-crotch turtleneck top. Huggy, stretchy cotton/lycra mini-skirt. Opaque tights. Full length, inside zip, pinched toe and 4” stiletto heel boots. Need I say black? I thought not.

My best possible, and far from passable effort with the face. Wig on and brushed out, purse packed and the always slightly unsettling drive in daylight. I don’t have a problem once I am out of the neighborhood, but that ¼ mile to the corner is a little dicey. Lots of dog walking and yard working going on. Everyone knows my car, and who the hell is that woman at the wheel? But again, if not for these little dangers, why do we dress?

I called R as I arrived. I saw a petite woman reach into a purse and pull out a phone. So, we meet. Heart starting to pop again in anticipation of the unknown.

I slid my way way out of the truck attempting to preserve modesty. My heels were pencil thin. I did less well walking then I thought I would. I had left quite a little stroll across the parking lot thinking the distance would get me and my hips into the swing of things. What the distance did was make me regret not getting a chunkier heel. And it provided an opportunity for 2 drivers to be pedestrian friendly and simply insist that I had the right of way. I recognize that “no, after you” wave of the hand. I give it all the time. When I want to look at a nice ass. Turnaround is fair play after all.

R and I talked for close to an hour. She explained how she got into the business. She had some questions of me. Married? Yes. Wife knows? No. No surprise, most don’t. Dressing long? Forever. No surprise, most do. I trusted her. I asked her:

“ So what can I do better? How can I do better? How would you help me?”

It was makeup no doubt. And yes she could help. A little more …. drama … was required. And she would be happy to supply it. We made a date for the next evening. The college boys insisted on holding the door open as we walked out of the bar together, and I tottered off to the car.

Nice legs, shame about the face

This is neither undue flattery or false modesty. I have terrific legs. And I have a face that draws attention for all the wrong reasons while out en femme. As a male face, it works, its serviceable. Not so handsome that guys don’t trust me. Not so ugly that women run away.

As a woman’s face though, its just sad. There are a whole pile of issues big and small. There is too much nose. The shadow is dark. And I feel poorly about my smile. I think this pulls my eyes down. And all the mechanics from that drive through shoulders, tits and ass too with a predictable impact on my gait and passability. ( I will have some future postings on tits and ass by the way, because I really put a lot of work into them, and it all paid dividends.)

But for now back to the face.

I will spare the stories of how badly I have done myself up in the past. I have achieved looks only marginally better than vintage Twisted Sister and Little Orphan Annie. It was time to put myself in the hands of professionals. Here is A Tale of Two Facials.

My Macy’s Day Parade

Halloween is a day full of license. You have an excuse for practically any kind of off-center behavior. This is a day not to be missed. Early in the afternoon, still with a full beard (had not shaved in a year or so) I visited the cosmetics/beauty area. The prettiest and most available for conversation aesthetician was at the Elizabeth Arden counter. I pretty plainly stated that I was looking for something that would cover up my own beard line and could she help me with that? No surprises, Moira was up for it. I would require some sort of concealer and she was picking up green tones from my complexion (green tones? WTF?). It was getting to sound a little complex, and so I said,

“Moira, would it totally freak you and your clients out if I ran home, shaved, put on a nice wig and a dress and popped back in for a real makeover?”

“Not at all hon, when can you be back here? I want to make sure I am not at lunch.”

“4:15 if that works for you Moira”

“I’ll be here, now don’t be late…!”

Gulp. Events are now rolling. And the clock is ticking. And my heart is starting to hammer up a bit. Its all good. Scissored through the outer-layers of beard, took a long hot shower, and took a blade to my face for the first time in ages. It is rather like riding a bike. I did no harm. Came pretty clean. And gleaned over the chin and upper lip area a second time in the hopes that I could make it pink.

I wrestled myself into my padded butt and hips panty girdle. Evened the bumps out under a pair of Spanx. Pulled up some dark ribbed tights (the legs do not get shaved sadly, yet). Strapped on my very symmetrical, very well positioned, and just not quite soft and bouncy enough boobs and push up bra, and held my breath while the very clingy, very body conscious ribbed turtleneck mini dress from American Apparel got pulled on and just forced everything to attention. Boo-yah. My wig, a belt, some bracelets, a nice and walkable black leather mule with a 3” heel, Audrey Hepburn sunglasses and a shawl and back breathless and face naked to Macys.

This is broad daylight people. I know I am being clocked. But again, 31 Oct has all its own excuses. In any event, no sign of Moira.

“O, she will be right back from lunch … hey Cindy, when did Moira go for lunch?”

“Don’t know, but she won’t be long.. just make yourself at home”.

Well there are minutes that just crawl. I sat. I walked. I thought a little about what to do with my hands. I went outside even for a quick smoke. Patience Petra, she can’t have forgotten you. Well 20 minutes was gut wrenching. I had made friends with Rhonda at Lancôme, and she did me a solid. I did not want to stand up Moira, but was far too exposed. And Rhonda seemed simpatico.

“Girl, you just relax, we get it all here. You just sit nice, and my I love your belt. I would kill for your little waist. Lets see what we can do here.”

Rhonda was good and I felt like I was with a friend. But there was a catch. The chair I was perched up in with about 8” of thigh free above the knee was a super-high traffic major corridor at an increasingly busy time of day. My face was out to the world, and not into the counter. You know, you know, you know and you keep reminding yourself that Joe Public out there sees what he expects to see. Don’t worry you say to yourself…. they don’t care, they don’t know…. but the little fears remain.

Rhonda talked me through it. She ladled out the complements. Great co-pilot. I could have just held her hand and walked anywhere. And then she spun the chair. Better than I have ever looked.

The Lancôme products were liquid foundation and concealer. The color looked good, but the 5 O’Clock shadow still drove through. Good eyes (lashes and lines clean black and full, but not much pop around the eyelids). It was makeup that a proper middle aged woman could easily wear to the office, but was going to get lost later that night.

The price of the care was the purchase of any 2 Lancôme products. I went for three, and for any of you who favor this brand, you will know that I did not have a cheap old facial here.

But I achieved a look I could not hope to for myself, and got some really high quality raw material that I could practice with and hopefully improve.

And then, with time to kill, I walked out and into the mall.

Next posting - Petra seeks professional help. :)