Jan
06
I am grateful for the comments on my recent post The Irresistible Lure of the Lens, and I think that your explanations for our obsession with taking pictures of ourselves were intelligent and thought-provoking.
Here’s my two-cents’…
I have found that t-girls obsession with the lens is matched by our inability to walk past a mirror without looking at ourselves.
Both are momentary reflections of us that teach us what we may be doing wrong and impress us with what we are doing right. And we are ever eager to learn about both.
For my money, the mirror is the better learning tool, as it is interactive. Sometimes, it’s “Goll darn, I am doing pretty good!” but more often than not, there is some flaw that bears improving, and I can look away, take a deep breath and try to change my posture, my expression or whatever, to improve my result.
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Jan
03
I wonder why it is that t-girls seem to have an incessant desire to have their picture taken. I don’t really know how common it is, but my straw poll shows that almost everyone I know is so afflicted.
What answers are we looking for in the lens?
Is it just to see how well we’re doing at assuming the female guise?
Or is it more, “I can’t believe I look this way!”
Or is it, “Damn, I’m hot. Photos of myself turn me on like porn… maybe better!”
I have a good excuse: I need ‘em for my blog. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!)
What’s yours?
Apr
29
Hooboy! That first party was a doozy!
Picture 50 sexy t-girls who just love each other’s company, in skimpy lingerie, in a hotel suite with booze flowing and two live webcams broadcasting, and twenty cameras taking pictures.
That’s Lingerie Night, Wildside style!
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Feb
22
(continuation of Smile for the Camera.)
I tried to manage a smile despite my embarrassment, and Derek seemed impressed with the photos he was getting. “Cmon, honey, stroke your leg… give us some sexiness…. I know you have it in you!”
I was almost ready to cry, but I tried, touching my ankle and caressing the side of my calf. Massaging myself calmed me down a bit, as did the slightest tingle of excitement I felt at Derek’s interest in me.
I got up like a newborn doe, legs wobbly on my high heels and, bending forward to obstruct his view as I lowered my skirt back into place. Then, I dusted myself off and looked into the camera. “I can do this,” I thought to myself.
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Feb
20
A little fiction to spice up your day:
I started out the day as usual, arriving at the office around 8:30 a.m. I was wearing my vintage navy blue skirt and sleeveless matching top with white stitching in the wide boatneck collar and curved triangular buttons down the front. It turns out that my boss’s partner had a meeting across town and he had taken his secretary along, and the photographers were out on assignment, so only Derek and I were in the office.
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