How and Who do you ask 'What do you do when your boobs get sweaty?'
I took a walk today. Into the village. Wearing my new bra and size C boobage. I loved the feel of the straps across my shoulders and round the back. I revelled in the view down my front – the double curve of the breasts instead of the normal flatness. I enjoyed the sleek feel of the sheer nylon blouse – pale apricot with short puff sleeves, if you want to know.
It was a glorious summer day.
But as I walked further in the heat, my skin got sticky. My boobs began to feel hot and clammy in a most unwelcome way.
And I wondered.
What would real boobs feel like on a day like this?
I mean instead of hot blobs of silicon swinging free in their bra because I can’t / won’t glue them on.
It’s not the sort of question that the average man can ask the average woman.
You can’t really ask your wife or any woman you know well questions like ‘how do you deal with slipping bra-straps?’ or ‘have you ever imagined being without breasts?’ or ‘what’s it like when your breasts get all hot and sweaty – how do you cope?’ and you may get unwelcome reactions rather than simple answers. Or if you do ask such questions then other more difficult questions come back at you!
From what I’ve read, I’d guess that the size of the boobage makes a big difference. Small, pert boobs say A or B probably don’t have enough under-groove to get all hot and moist and horrid. I don’t know. But by the time you get to DD and larger, I know because I’ve got eyes (and I’ve looked at pictures too) the under-boob area is significant and must get quite uncomfortable. In fact of course, I’ve had my hands on my wife’s DD boobs and I know that they get hot and clammy and moist and even smelly.
But you can’t ask that sort of question. I never asked my wife about it. It was part of her life, part of her body and she dealt with it in her own way.
Could YOU ask anybody, ‘On a hot day, how often do you have to dry between your legs to prevent your crotch from getting hot, sweaty and even smelly?’ I’ve been there – and the smell of a fresh clean aroused pussy is very different from an end-of-day version. And I know which I prefer. I’m confident from the stories that some prefer otherwise – now that’s weird.
I never asked that sort of question of the wife, and you can’t ask the casual stranger in the winebar either. There’s asking intimate questions and there’s asking the sort of question that could get you slapped. Although …. If you DO get to ask that sort of question then perhaps there’s a whole new area for the relationship to grow into. I have never felt confident enough to try it.
And while you may get unfriendly glances and some downright rude comments, in general, nobody is going to come up to you and ask ‘excuse me but why are you, a man, wearing a bra?’
They’re not going to say, ‘that’s a pretty skirt, where did you get it?’
It might be a sign of a fantastically normal society if people did ask questions like that.
I have tried it but only in a very ordinary way. I went up to a young girl, woman really but much younger than me, who was looking in the window of a London shop and said ‘that’s a very nice dress, can you tell me where you got it? My daughter is about your size and colouring.’ And she did get a big smile, my memory tells me anyway, and said, ‘I got it a year or so ago, so I can’t really help.’ I felt very happy that I had been able to ask and happy too that I had spread some good feelings. But it had taken some effort to ask and I’ve never caught the same opportunity since. I think that most people wouldn't or couldn't do the same.
But asking a woman about her woman’s clothes is so different from asking a man about HIS woman’s clothes. No - it's not different as much as beyond probability. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to ask a girl wearing clothes from the male spectrum what they feel like compared to her normal wear. But then, with the current western civilization mores, SHE’s allowed to wear MY clothes but I can’t wear hers.
Back to now: I continued onward to the village to get my milk and bread at the shop, my breasts getting hotter and sweatier. I feel that if I’d glued them or fixed them somehow, it would, sorry, they would feel even more different and nearly real but I’m too hairy and shaving or waxing is not going to happen while I still have some of my marriage. Nevertheless the sensation of the C-cup silicon swinging and getting hot and sweaty made me feel that this made the experience much more real – but how could I be certain? Who could I ask? How would I ask? When, where and definitely wither.
I got nearer to the shops and houses. I wasn’t being totally overt and brash, my waistcoat-jacket covered most of the blouse. If I zipped it up, then the bulge of my breasts was, hopefully, less visible and the centre of the bra only just peeked over the top. The seethrough-ness of the blouse was also hidden. I felt bold but sufficiently safe.
I have no idea what the reality is about cross-dressing. I have read stories about cross-dressers and transvestities and transthis and transthat and sissies and fembois and gurls and all sorts of labels. I suspect that even the people using many of the labels are pretty vague about what they mean.
When I say ‘I have no idea about the reality’, I mean I don’t know how many people do it. I don’t know how far they go as regards clothing, makeup, hair. Even though, once, I met some other transfolk [I use that word because I didn't get a clue about how far they were into any form of transition] when I did meet them, i found it almost impossible to ask any of the questions that were swirling about in my head. So, even though I got to know that there are others out there, it's still the stories and biogs which give me most of my information [and I do think some of the biogs are almost silly. They just don't sound 'real'. Strange!]
What I see on the websites is, for me, too often a bit or a lot over-the top. I watch passersby when I am in town or having a coffee. There’s not many showing daytime cleavage. There’s not many over 20 with miniskirts or less. There’s not many with garish lipstick and an unattractive determination to ‘prove their femininity’. Most of the people look ordinary, calm, sensible. So I don't really understand why t-girls dress so badly when, to my mind, surely it's more important to look 'ordinary' rather than to be a caricature of a woman.
I agree that in the evening at the clubs is can and perhaps should get more colourful, even exotic, even erotic. But the post-teenage non-clubbers are still looking more real than too many of the femme-boys and cross-dressers ready for a night out.
I have been out for an evening, dressed in a lovely blue piece that I had bought that day in John Lewis in Southampton. The assistant had been surprised but quite willing to let me try on several dresses – and to comment on them too. She said that what I was asking was uncommon but they had been trained to accept that it occurred and to remember that a well-constructed sale could mean future sales, whatever they thought of the client. But it takes time for me to learn to be with a new group of people – and circumstances prevented me from becoming a regular attendee.
So, while I have met some other transpeople, I've never had an open conversation about things. I mean, when you go out with some people do you really want to talk about the issue that underlies the whole group - or do you take that for granted and talk about more ordinary things. Do trainspotters talk about 'why did you become a trainspotter?' I bet they don't.
But I didn’t want the confidence just to scurry from car to club of an occasional evening. I wanted and want the confidence to wear whatever I want in broad daylight. I draw the line, for myself, at vulgarity and what one of my vintage would call inappropriate clothing. I mean, what would you call a forty-year-old in a miniskirt. And some of the transfolk do, to my mind, and mostly judging by their pictures, do dress really stupidly.
But since I love colour and pretty, soft materials - why can't i wear them if I want to? I know the answer. It's becuase 'They' don't approve. And most of us want to fit in and that means doing what 'They' approve of. I bet some of 'Them' have habits like mine or even worse.
So, like I say, I keep walking in my pretty blouse with the trim of the bra peeking in the vee. My knee-length skirt is at home and I’m wearing shorts as this seems less intrusive with the bushy beard I am still keeping. I want to be risky but not actually stupid. The bra and blouse are mostly hidden beneath the jacket. But I do feel good that I have gone so many steps beyond the everyday panties.
Later that day, I go for a walk in the woods. And yes, again I dress for this. I keep my same blouse because I particularly enjoy and love the feel of it. I wear a tunic top in fake suede which comes just below my crotch. For the first time, I wear my new black leggings. They feel very different from either tight jeans or tights. About half-way between actually which is not that surprising.
I meet a couple of couples on my way and try to present myself as ‘here I am this is nothing to be surprised at – just another unusual animal in the forest|!’
There are no comments and I don’t notice any angry or ‘weirdo’ looks – but then I’m not trying to make eye contact or to trigger any confrontation. And it’s the countryside. I went out into one of the nearby towns wearing a skirt some while ago. I didn’t have the beard then and my hair was very much longer – almost to my neck. But I did get some puzzled looks and one person, safe inside their metal box-on-wheels, shouted something abusive at me.
I’m not as confident as I would want one of the people I read about in stories to be. But mostly, I don’t very much care if people think I’m weird. I don’t think I’d dare try it in a busy town or of an evening when there’s likely to be more alcohol. I'm different but I try not to be stupid.
Like I say, I’m over 50 now and I don’t much care what anybody says to me. I fear attack and don’t want intolerance or unkindness – but mostly, I don’t care.
And while I do love my boobs, however pretend they may be, I certainly don’t care for going out on a hot day and having them get all hot and sticky. And how ladies with real boobage cope is still a question I’d like an answer to. Am I alone in this?
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks.