I don't know if this will be of interest; most people probably already know this. There are many ways to determine your skin undertone. The easiest way is to look at the color of the veins on your wrists. If they're blue, you definitely have a cool undertone. If they're green or purple, you have a warm undertone. If the color is indeterminate, or if the veins on your wrists are one color and on your creases another, you have a neutral undertone. I hope this will be interesting to some. Gold or silver, or reference colors, are also used, but that's the easiest way.

I have some new red heels 👠👠for my collection, you think they are sexy ?😍😍

They came in. What do you think?

Another weekend draws to a close. they're certainly flying by. Hope everyone had a great one! 💕

Just ordered these can’t wait till they come ❤️❤️❤️

I say I am not a sissy, but I do love playing the part, and happily do, the is liberty in a collar and leash. It's also nice to fulfill a sissy fantasy for someone who lusts you and wishes they had more hands over you. Or pulling my hair as I am impaled 😻

The Amazon men were nice they carried my package to the door :) there was another truck that met up with them on my street I locked eyes with the younger guy while being in my bra wig using my dildo.

Call me cynical but there's a number of people on here that suggest they are real in that person in their profile exists across the net but due to their online presence such as being on paid for sites like onlyfans and the like, I find it really hard to accept them that they have the time and effort to join this site (of all sites) just for the social side of things. Its not like we would expect to see RuPaul on here right? I've found a number on here where the real person is a real person across the net but I know that their profile on here isn't legit because they wouldn't have an interest on here and when asked I know for sure the person behind that profile isn't them by the way they answer. In other words a stolen identity. Even worse when its someone who is known and famous enough that they make a living out of who they are, then imposters ripping off their images and information pretending they are them are the worst scum, next to the usual m1stresses and g0desses et al. And to finish it off using AI in some instances where blending a female picture with a slightly different face or visa versa in the hope they won't be found out. Even worse just being totally AI. If you can't be who you really are then what's the point, so the majority must be on her for anterior motives rather than to celebrate CD and being trans. And for the rest ie the scammers they can go f u c k themselves. Have a nice day 😀

I had a really busy week, so today - FRIDAY I needed relax and went shopping. I wanted to buy gym leggings, to show GemSta how a nice ass really looks like 😊. Haven’t found anything nice and black, but spotted nice, black and regular jeans. Of course, I was wearing g-string as usually. I went to the changing room with several cabinets with curtains. It was just jeans, I was listening music on my headphones (Måneskin - "I Wanna Be Your Slave. Live – it is so much better that studio version, and the bass guitar girl….OMG) not paying any attention to what is happening and did not close the curtains entirely. I took off my old jeans, bent over and then glimpsed with the corner of my eye that some people stares at me….. . Mother and father waiting for their kid. As you may have guested correctly It turned me on, obviously (life is not easy), but I can swear, I saw it in their eyes ….. they will go wild tonight! The obvious morale of the story is……. Not every superhero wears a cape! (So I took mine off, as you may see on the attached picture😊). Enjoy the weekend!

Good morning. 💋The leather look came about spontaneously, at the request of some men who wanted to be dominated. They insisted on wearing this look, but when I put it together, they all vanished. 😅Probably because I have virtually no experience with domination, and I don't particularly enjoy being in that role. But the look remains, and I'll expand on it over time. For now, I'm showing it off because I think it's my red dress, which I personally really like, but it's probably already become too familiar.😅😊

Tgirlmia reported and blocked. pics posted all over the net and been blocked on a number of sites. just scamming ppl to use zangi and telegram. posted to 'her' and had no reply but they keep posting.

i love these drawings; they are so erotic x

me thinks Tgirlmia isn't who she says she is. stealing persons Id and trying to get people onto telegram and zangi. if you see that in anyone's profile report and block. I'm trying to get her to respond to my questions. all quiet at the moment but then you will notice all these fakes will post pics and never really reply in to comments against their pics. not only is it bad that they try to trick you but they steal someone else's ID while doing it

Patti loves to wear heels and hope they look as good as they feel, I really want to show someone how naughty I can be without heels on my feet, I hope everyone is having a wonderful day. Love you all

When a scammer sees my posts this is what they really look like

I rarely show photos like this. Because they usually lead to suggestions. It took me about an hour to draw the arrows here, using a stencil and not on the first try.😄 If a photo like this is unacceptable, I won't show it again, but sometimes I just feel like teasing. 😊😛

Verse 1 I walk the streets with borrowed light, A picture framed for someone’s sight. Smiles on faces, perfect and small— A thousand windows, none of them mine at all. Pre-Chorus We act the parts that others write, Hide the edges, hide the fight. Under neon, under glass, Something honest waits to pass. Chorus For all the world to see For all the world to be For all the world to love But for me Verse 2 They take our names and bill them bright, Sell us stories dressed up for night. I learn to nod, I learn to play, Forget the map that shows my way. Pre-Chorus But in a quiet corner of the day, A softer truth might find a way. A hand, a word, a light not planned— Small rebellions by an open hand. Chorus For all the world to see For all the world to be For all the world to love But for me Bridge (spoken, intimate) Not for the applause, not for the frame, Not for the headline or someone’s name. I want a place where I can stay— Tender, untidy, simply made. Verse 3 So leave a note on a porch tonight, Share your coat with someone in the cold. These little truths are how we start Turning quiet pieces into heart. Chorus (layered, aching) For all the world to see For all the world to be For all the world to love But for me Outro (fade, single whispered line) For the world to be… But for me. No

Yesterday I went for my nephew’s birthday party. As usual I wore g-string under my regular jeans. The party was for the family so all my close relatives were there. At some point the discussion started about wearing the string and hot it is not conformable etc. I was silence, just smiling and nodding, but each and every time aunt, uncle or whoever glanced at me or We got an eye contact I heard the voice in my head THEY KNOW, YOU CAN NOT HIDE, THEY ALL KOW. SHAME. SHAME. As you might have guested it…….. turned me on (not aunts nor uncles for those curious!). The obvious morale of this story is that what a relief that, with all the masks and pretends, it’s good to know that our brain does not limit you… Picture is unrelated, posted just to bring more attention to the story😊

Everything you people get from the news is a lie. Donald Trump hasn't done anything to anybody. Besides, what kind of a man would vote for a woman as executive chief of the military? We never had fakes news until we had a fake president. Anyhow, it's been a year since I was in jail and lost my entire wardrobe, makeup, and shoes. Nothing's been right since then. Everybody else is getting hotter while I'm left far far behind in the competition. I'm not late. It's just that I'm in competition with self-absorbed narcissistic men who really aren't worthy of the spiteful admiration they receive. I know of plenty of self centered hetero men who deserve equally dreadful fates as legit trans women. Oh, and it'll be almost 8 months since I began hrt. I believe my body is rejecting it and my outward male appearance is too dominant for serious feminine changes. Oh well. The world is cruel. An eye for an eye. I know exactly who deserves my jealous revenge. Nobody deserves to feel safe.

Hope they are ok xx

Stockings or tights? I do like black stockings but they are a bloody faff.

Teaser - Girl friends. I think you will find the next photos I post to be truely amazing. They will be me 10+ years ago at 137 pounds. My lowest weight since HS. Problem is it took me an entire year to lose the weight and only about 6 months to regain most of it back. Because I run and swim a lot it is hard for me to diet so much and still have energy to do those activities. More Tomorrow. 🥰

sorry booboo (thought you wont be able to read this) but I've blocked you. too much exposure going on even if you are wearing girl clothes they are too shear to hide anything

Black Friday they said, so I did.

Cross-dressing allows individuals to explore and express different facets of their personality and identity that they may not be able to in their everyday lives due to societal expectations. This can lead to a greater sense of honesty and congruency with their inner feelings, helping them to feel more complete and authentic.

Bad luck the whole day. With all the excitement my stockings let go. They were my favourite, had them for years..... Well I have excuse to buy another pair with clear conscience :).

I love this skimpy t-shirt and blue cardigan, especially when they are combined with a denim skirt & my favourite boots 😁

Greetings to you, my dear sisters. And to you, Admirers. I wanted to tell you a little about myself. I started crossdressing relatively recently, about five years ago. I'd been wanting to do it for a while, of course, but I only got around to trying it recently. What did it give me? Well, it motivated me to lose weight, from 130 kg to 78, although my body is still not perfect; my body fat percentage is excessive, in my opinion, and such a significant weight loss couldn't help but negatively impact both my face and body. I also began to better understand women and how they think. When you look at yourself in a dress in the mirror and realize it doesn't suit your figure or the color... Oh yes, now the thoughts of women in the same situation are much clearer.🙂 I've discovered things men don't think about, like how to determine my body type to match it with clothes, my face type to match a wig, my skin tone and undertone to choose the right makeup colors, my overall complexion, and its level of contrast, which helps me choose clothing colors. I'm really interested in exploring all of this. Of course, I'm not perfect at everything. I'm not very good at makeup; for example, I'm still working on my body despite having suffered numerous injuries. Losing weight isn't always a good thing; it exposes problems I never even suspected. 🤔Sometimes my looks look a bit slutty, my wardrobe isn't very large, and I can't find shoes in the right size. I also have to hide my hobbies, like hiding my face in photos, because I get more negativity and threats from the world than positive ones.🤐 But at the same time, there's a sense of harmony and inner peace when I have the rare opportunity to transform myself, even if only temporarily.☺️ My English isn't very good, I use an online translator, and the text may be a bit awkward, so please excuse me. Kisses to you all, sisters, wherever you are.😚😙😚💝

I dream of safely leaving the house dressed up, especially if a stranger finds out about me and it excited them. I dressed as snow white one Halloween "for a laugh" and went to a party where a couple of men I knew " jokingly" groped my butt and legs and I fell down a rabbit hole and I never got out, Iwonder if they were as aware of my growing lump in my panties as I was of there's in rheir jeans, Iand still love to be groped 😅😻

Lonely cold.nights in Cumbria, I need a bed buddy to warm me up if they don't mind me rubbing against them 😹😻

Well what can i say. Evri "bit as usless as they've always been" has lost my parcel. So no new shoes for me, Just a refund. 🥹😢

Hey sweets, I wanted to open up and share something real with you—something raw, honest, and close to the bone. If any of this resonates with you, if you’ve ever felt the same hunger, the same questions, the same ache—I’d love to hear from you. You're not alone. Leave a comment, share your truth. With all my heart (and a few kisses), I’ve hated my dick for as long as I can remember—not just for how it looks or what it symbolizes, but for how it keeps me tethered to a version of myself that never felt real. It’s not that I want to erase my body—I just want it to feel like mine. I want softness. Curves. A place to be entered, to be held, to be loved in a way that matches how I feel inside. I want to be her. And in many ways, I already am. I haven’t transitioned. Maybe I never will. But I live in the space between genders like it’s home. Most people have no idea. They see what I let them see. But under my clothes, I’m wrapped in the truth of who I am—lace panties, a matching bra, delicate straps across my chest, sometimes a garter if I need to feel extra pretty that day. It’s not just for arousal. It’s for survival. And always, always, I wear my prosthetic. My fake pussy. My secret salvation. It’s made of silicone—soft, skinlike, shaped just right. The slit is subtle but perfect. There's a hole you can enter, if you know how to treat me. When I slip it on and feel my cock tucked away, my heart slows. My body goes quiet. I look down and see smoothness, femininity, me. Not a fantasy—reality. My reality. I wear it all the time. Not just for sex, not just when I’m alone. It’s part of my daily ritual, part of how I make peace with a body that’s caught between what it is and what I wish it could be. It keeps me close to her—the woman I am when no one’s looking, and sometimes even when they are. Most lovers don’t know how to handle that part of me. They want either a woman or a man, and I’m both and neither. But some—some—see me. They touch me with reverence. They kiss my neck like it’s sacred. They press against the silicone, kiss me through it, call me beautiful. And when they slide inside that prosthetic slit, I feel... loved. Not just fucked. Chosen. Other times, they want what I hide. They pull down my panties and take me as I am. My ass becomes my pussy. They call my cock a girl cock, and I let them, because in those moments it belongs to the version of me who still needs to be worshipped, still deserves to be adored. There's no shame in it. I’m done apologizing for the way I live in my body. But the most powerful moments are the quiet ones—alone, silk between my thighs, hips swaying as I move through the world with my little secret pressed tight against me. The prosthetic warms to my skin. I forget it’s there, and yet I’m constantly aware of it. It doesn’t just hide what I hate. It shows me who I am. Every soft curve, every subtle line—it’s mine. I’ve had men fall in love with me through it. Not just because of how I look, but how I let them in. Emotionally, physically, spiritually. When I let a man undress me slowly, kiss down my stomach, slip his fingers over that smooth slit... he doesn’t just touch silicone. He touches me. He touches the part of me that’s always been waiting to be seen. And when he enters me there, when he moves inside me through that perfect opening, I close my eyes and feel a kind of peace I’ve never known. A feeling that says, This is what it means to be wanted. This is what it means to be a woman. This is what it means to be loved in the body you’ve built for yourself, on your terms. It’s not a costume. It’s not pretend. It’s truth, wrapped in silicone and lingerie and longing. And it’s beautiful. More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/ #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent

Jude reported and blocked. If it is who they portray then I've made a big mistake but talking to her I'm not convinced by her responses. She is also known as F1NN5TER a UK trans/cd international internet sensation who's made a living on many internet platforms. Look her up on google. watch her on youtube. then talk to her and see if it sounds like it would be her. As I was amazed to see her on here, i asked what's she's doing on here and her reply basically was a friend had told her about this app and she would 'find the love of her life'. Doesn't ring true to me. Either it is her or someone so stupid is trying to impersonate her. I'm hoping on the latter or I'd blown it big time lol

Patti loves her dresses and heels, but as most girls I want to go shopping for more, I love very short dresses and skirts, I love trying on new heels. They make me feel so feminine, Patti wants everybody on here to know she thinks you’ll are beautiful sweet and amazing girls and hopes you all are having a wonderful day of night

So who looks forward to Halloween knowing they can go out dressed like a girl and no one will say anything. I did in my teens, felt so good being out in a pair of tights, skirt and heels. Xx

Boohoo said on it's website two and a half inch heels, got them and they're four inch! Oh well....😃

Good evening sweets! I'm off to work. But thought I'd leave you with a story. More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/ #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent Chrissy on the Hillcrest Bus The bus hissed as it opened its doors on University Avenue, right in the heart of Hillcrest, San Diego’s famous gay neighborhood. I climbed aboard, heart racing a little faster than usual. On the outside I was in my “boy clothes” — plain pants, a simple shirt — but underneath I was my secret self: Chrissy Marie Tunnell. Pink floral panties hugged my smooth hips, a matching bra cupped my chest, and tiny flashes of trans-colored jewelry — a ring, a dangling earring — shimmered in the afternoon light. I wasn’t fully comfortable living openly as a girl yet, but I loved leaving little clues for anyone observant enough to notice. As I walked down the aisle, I felt eyes on me. One man’s gaze dropped to where the pink waistband of my panties peeked above my pants. Another tilted his head just enough to catch the faint outline of my bra straps beneath the thin cotton of my shirt. My jewelry glinted when the bus jolted, and I knew they’d seen the colors. Their eyes followed me hungrily as I slid into a seat halfway down. Even the bus driver, watching through the mirror, licked his lips and adjusted in his chair. “Hey…” one man finally said, his voice a mix of awe and lust. “You’re Chrissy… the trans model, aren’t you?” My cheeks burned, but I gave a shy smile. “Yes.” A low whistle came from the back. “Damn. You should take those clothes off.” I laughed nervously, shaking my head. “I can’t here…” Then the driver’s voice, gravelly but warm, floated down the aisle: “It’s okay. I won’t say anything.” His eyes met mine in the mirror, daring me. A shiver ran through me. My body trembled with a mix of nerves and arousal as I stood up slowly, the bus swaying beneath my feet. I grabbed the metal pole for balance, slipped off my shirt one button at a time, and slid my pants down my thighs. Gasps and murmurs spread as I revealed my pink bra and panties, smooth legs, and the bulge already straining with need. “Goddamn…” someone whispered. I posed for them, turning so they could see the curve of my ass, bending just enough to make my cheeks round and full under the thin fabric. I arched my back, running my hands down my torso, teasing myself for their eyes. The air hummed with catcalls and whistles, every sound feeding my arousal. I felt powerful. Desired. Exposed. The driver adjusted his mirror again, his eyes glued to me. My cock twitched inside my panties, leaking, the wet spot spreading. A chorus of moans and encouragement filled the bus as I spread my legs, cupped myself through the silky fabric, and let them watch my face flush and my chest rise and fall with each deep breath. I was their show, their Chrissy, their secret goddess on wheels. Chrissy’s Bus Show – The Climax The bus swayed along the road, but I barely noticed. Every set of eyes was on me — hungry, wide, devouring. I stood in the aisle in nothing but my pink floral bra and panties, my smooth skin glistening under the fluorescent lights, my cock straining the damp satin. “Do it, Chrissy,” someone whispered, voice husky with need. “Yes… show us,” another begged. The encouragement hit me like waves of heat. I hooked my thumbs under the band of my panties, tugged them tight against my bulge, and let out a trembling gasp. My cock pulsed, the wet spot spreading. The riders groaned, some openly rubbing themselves as they watched. I spread my legs wider, arched my back, and cupped myself through the silky fabric. The friction was maddening. My hips bucked, the panties darkening with each spurt of precum. “God, look at you,” the bus driver moaned from the mirror, his knuckles white on the wheel. The passengers cheered me on, clapping, catcalling, shouting my name. “Chrissy! Chrissy!” I slid one hand up my chest, over my flat stomach, to my bra — tugging at the cups, making my nipples stand hard under the lace. My other hand rubbed furiously over the soaked bulge, grinding, stroking, teasing myself to the edge. The entire bus rocked with my moans. My thighs quivered, my lips parted, sweat dripping down my temples. I was lost in it, lost in them, lost in the rush of being seen. Then it hit. “Ahhh—!” My body seized, cock jerking uncontrollably as I came hard in my panties. Hot, sticky release poured out, soaking the pink fabric, running down my thighs. Gasps and cheers filled the air, some passengers clapping, others moaning with me as if they’d climaxed, too. (continued in comments below): -Chrissy

My story on how cross dressing helped me discover my true identity. It all started when I was maybe 13 or 14 years old. I would see my mom or sister throwing out clothes they didn't wear anymore. Like anyone in that situation, I snuck out what I wanted and hid them in the bottom of my closet. Then when I'd go over to my sisters and catch her throwing out clothes and such, I'd sneak around getting what I wanted. I would be at my sisters and somehow manage to take 15 pairs of panties and a few bras I wanted. Later on, I started questioning my own gender identity. There were often times I'd try to hide or suppress who I really was inside out of fear. That fear was mainly driven by what society may think. I'm glad cross dressing has helped me come to realize later on, that I'm a trans woman. It's been the cross dressing community over the years via MeWe which has shown mea lot of love and support. So I'm glad to have gotten my start in this path through cross dressing!

Good evening sweets! I'm off to work. But thought I'd leave you with a story. More: http://chrissyinsd.hotviber.com/ #crossdresser #sissy #sissyboy #crossdressers #sissies #shemale #ladyboy #femboy #femman #femboys #crossdressing #gurl #trans #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #tgirl #gay #lgbtq #nsfw #adultsonly #adultcontent The Meeting That Got Out of Hand I showed up to the office dressed in my “Supervisor” uniform — black polo shirt tucked neatly into black pants, shiny work shoes. On the outside, I looked like any middle manager headed into a boring meeting. But under it all, I wore my little secret: a lacy pink bra and panties. Just knowing they were against my skin made me shiver with anticipation. The room looked like an office conference space, complete with a long table, chairs, and quarterly reports scattered around. Five others were waiting — three men in polos like mine, and two women in skirts and blouses. I sat down and kept tugging at my shirt, worried my bra straps might show. That’s when one of the women leaned over and smirked. “Chris… is that lace I see under your collar?” My stomach flipped. I froze, heat rushing to my face. Everyone’s eyes snapped to me. The strap had slipped just enough to peek out. One of the men chuckled, leaning forward. “No way… are you wearing a bra under that uniform?” My hands fumbled at my collar, trying to hide it. “I… maybe.” My voice cracked. The woman reached over and tugged my shirt down just enough to reveal the delicate strap, then the curve of lace against my chest. Gasps, then laughter, but not cruel — hungry. Aroused. “Stand up,” another man said. “Show us.” I hesitated only a second before rising to my feet. Heart pounding, I pulled my polo up, exposing the pink bra stretched across my chest. The room went silent, then filled with low groans of approval. “Fuck, Chrissy,” one of them whispered. “Turn around.” I obeyed, bending slightly. My waistband had slipped low enough that the lacy panties showed above my pants. Someone reached out, tugging them down just enough to expose the curve of my ass. The first touch made me gasp — a hand sliding over the silk, squeezing, then pulling my pants down around my thighs. Now I was standing in front of them in bra and panties, my cock already swelling against the lace. They closed in. A woman pressed her lips to mine, lipstick smearing as her tongue slid into my mouth. Hands roamed everywhere — groping my ass, tugging at my nipples through the bra, cupping my cock through the panties. “Get on the table,” the tall man ordered. I climbed onto the polished surface, lying back as they surrounded me. Someone yanked my panties aside, freeing my cock, already dripping. A hot mouth enveloped me, sucking hard, while another tongue flicked over my nipple, teeth grazing until I cried out. My legs were spread wide, panties shoved down, and I felt a slick finger pushing into my ass, stretching me open. I moaned around the cock one of the men slid between my lips, gagging as he held my head and thrust deep. It was a blur of sensation. One man fucking my throat, another pumping into my ass, their bodies grinding against me while the women took turns riding my face and jerking my cock. The table shook with every thrust, papers scattering like a storm. “Good little slut,” someone growled in my ear as they pounded into me from behind, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the office. My cock spurted across my stomach, hot and sticky, but they didn’t stop. They used me until I was soaked with cum inside and out, my bra twisted, panties torn, lipstick smeared across my face. When it was finally over, I lay sprawled on the table, trembling, dripping, utterly used. The others buttoned their shirts, straightened their skirts, laughing softly as though the meeting had gone exactly as planned. I wiped the mess from my lips, my chest still heaving. “So…” I whispered, voice raw, “should I type up the minutes?” The room erupted in laughter — and I knew I’d just passed my first real office initiation. -Chrissy

Mistressjanny reported and blocked. dom cis woman selling services. they are a bit dim when it comes to names. might as well use a big flashing advertisement sign on their profile

Unraveling the Thread: How Clothing Has Been Used to Subjugate Women—and Why That’s Changing (continued) By Chrissy Clothing as Power—and Resistance Throughout history, clothing has helped define who was allowed to hold power. Male garments—uniforms, suits, boots—were made for authority. Female garments were not. This is why women were long excluded from spaces of governance and decision-making. Until just a few decades ago, women couldn’t wear pants in courtrooms or on the floor of the U.S. Senate. Power had a dress code—and that dress code was male. Today, those lines are blurring. The rise of androgynous and gender-neutral fashion challenges the old binaries. More people are rejecting the idea that clothes must conform to “male” or “female.” Icons like Harry Styles, Elliot Page, and Indya Moore are showing that fashion can be fluid, expressive, and liberating. Yet, as someone living with a transgender identity, I still feel the weight of those norms. When I wear a bra or slip on a dress, I’m not just “playing dress-up.” I’m aligning myself with my truth. I’m saying to the world—even if they can’t see it yet—that I know who I am. The Future: Beyond Gendered Fabric We are in the midst of a slow but powerful revolution. The #FreeTheNipple movement, the rise of unisex clothing lines, and the increased visibility of trans and nonbinary voices all point to one truth: gender expression cannot—and should not—be policed by fabric. But the work isn’t done. We still live in a world where a child in a skirt is bullied, where a trans woman is judged by her ability to “pass,” and where freedom of clothing is still a privilege, not a right. So yes, I dream of a world where clothes mean only what we want them to mean—where they’re tools of expression, not oppression. But until then, I will continue to express my identity, my truth, my womanhood—even if it’s still beneath the surface, hidden under layers. Because to wear what makes you feel like you is an act of quiet rebellion. And sometimes, rebellion begins in a closet. What are your thoughts? Love, Chrissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #CD #gurl #sissy #sissyboy #trans #tgirl #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #ladyboy #femboy #shemale

Unraveling the Thread: How Clothing Has Been Used to Subjugate Women—and Why That’s Changing By Chrissy Why do women have to cover their chests while men can go shirtless in public? It’s a question that may seem simple—but carries profound implications about gender, power, and control. What we wear has never been neutral. Clothing is one of the most immediate ways society tells us who we are, or who we’re allowed to be. And when it comes to gender, clothing has been weaponized—especially against women—for centuries. But this isn’t just about history. It’s about lived experience. It’s personal. My Own Journey Through the Fabric of Gender As someone still exploring my own gender identity, this topic isn’t abstract. I was always a little more feminine than masculine, even as a child. For years, I repressed it—hiding behind "boy clothes" and what society expected of me. But in time, especially through the support of loving partners and close relationships, I came to embrace not only my homosexuality but something even deeper: the truth of my transgender identity. I am a woman—a female self long trapped in a male body. Though I firmly believe clothing shouldn't define gender—because gender identity is internal, not sartorial—clothing still does carry that symbolic weight in our world today. And so, until I find the strength to publicly transition, I express my femininity in the ways that are available to me now: I wear bras and female underwear every day in secret beneath my outwardly masculine clothing. In private, I allow myself to wear skirts, dresses, lingerie, and the soft, beautiful fabrics that make me feel aligned with my true self. It’s not about performance. It’s about presence. It’s about reclaiming what was always mine. The History of Clothing as a Tool of Gender Control To understand how we got here, we must look back. Clothing began as a means of protection. But from early civilization onward, it evolved into a tool of social stratification—and eventually, a means of gender control. Ancient societies created strict visual codes for women, emphasizing modesty, submission, and containment. While men wore tunics or armor suited for movement, battle, and public life, women were wrapped, tied, bound, and veiled. The message was clear: men moved freely through the world. Women did not. In medieval and early modern Europe, this dichotomy hardened. Men's clothing was practical. Women’s clothing was restrictive, ornate, and often uncomfortably symbolic. Corsets, crinolines, and hoop skirts made running, fighting, or even breathing difficult. These garments weren’t just fashion—they were cages. If you were wearing a dress, you weren’t riding into battle. You weren’t speaking in court. You weren’t commanding an army or a kingdom. You were ornamental. You were controlled. Modesty, the Female Chest, and the Double Standard These patterns persist today—nowhere more clearly than in the sexualization of the female chest. The fact that a man can walk down the street shirtless without a second glance, while a woman can be arrested for doing the same, speaks volumes. This isn’t about modesty. It’s about power and shame. The female chest has been hyper-sexualized while simultaneously shrouded in taboo. This serves to objectify women and punish them at the same time. Even breastfeeding in public is controversial in many places—seen not as natural or maternal, but as obscene. This double standard is part of a larger system that says women must be desirable but modest, visible but not too loud, strong but not threatening. And clothing is the vehicle through which these contradictory demands are enforced. Clothing as Power—and Resistance Throughout history, clothing has helped define who was allowed to hold power. Male garments—uniforms, suits, boots—were made for authority. Female garments were not. This is why women were long excluded from spaces of governance and decision-making. Until just a few decades ago, women couldn’t wear pants in courtrooms or on the floor of the U.S. Senate. Power had a dress code—and that dress code was male. To be continued in next post... Love, Chrissy #crossdresser #crossdressing #CD #gurl #sissy #sissyboy #trans #tgirl #transgirl #transwoman #transgender #ladyboy #femboy #shemale

🌸 Between Silk and Skin: Understanding the Line Between Crossdressing and Being Transgender By Chrissy “Maybe I’m not one or the other. Maybe I’m something in between—and that’s okay.” 🧠 What’s the Difference? When people hear “crossdresser” and “transgender,” they often picture the same thing—or get the definitions confused. But these words speak to different experiences, identities, and emotional landscapes. In simple terms: Crossdresser: A person (usually male-assigned at birth) who enjoys dressing in clothing typically associated with another gender, usually for self-expression, fun, comfort, identity exploration, or even erotic reasons. This doesn’t necessarily mean they want to live as that gender full-time. Transgender: Someone whose gender identity is different from the sex they were assigned at birth. A transgender woman was assigned male at birth but identifies as a woman—and may or may not take steps to socially, medically, or legally transition. 🩷 My Journey (So Far) I’m still figuring it all out. For most of my life, I lived as a man—because that’s what the world expected. But in quiet moments, in safe spaces, I allowed my femininity to surface. At first, I called it crossdressing. I liked how I felt in soft clothes, in cute outfits, in long hair and smooth skin. It was sensual… empowering… liberating. But it wasn’t just the clothes—it was me, underneath them. I still don’t know where I fall on the spectrum. Maybe I’m a crossdresser. Maybe I’m genderfluid. Maybe I’m a transgender woman still waiting to be born. What I do know is this: I feel most alive when I’m Chrissy. I feel most whole when I’m seen. I feel most me when I stop trying to choose sides. 🫶 A Spectrum, Not a Binary Gender is not black and white—it’s fluid, rich, and deeply personal. Some crossdressers live full, happy lives identifying as men who occasionally (or frequently) express femininity. Some transgender women started out crossdressing because it was safer than admitting the truth. Others—like me—are still discovering who they are. You might ask: Am I a crossdresser or something more? What does it mean if I like being called “she” sometimes? Do I want to be a woman or just look like one? The answer might be “yes,” “no,” “sometimes,” or “I’m not sure yet.” And all of those are valid. 💬 A Note on Shame and Freedom Growing up, I repressed my feminine side. I feared being laughed at, rejected, or labeled. I used filters to feminize my face online—not to trick anyone, but because I liked how I looked. It made me feel beautiful. For now, it’s my way of being seen. One day, I’ll do the makeup. The hair. The outfit. One day, I’ll walk outside and own her. For now, I’m just beginning. If you feel the same—if you’re navigating the space between crossdressing and being trans—you are not alone. 🎀 Final Thoughts You don’t need to rush toward a label. You don’t need to transition or explain yourself to anyone. You don’t need to choose “male” or “female” like you’re checking a box. You just need to be—whatever that means, however that looks, however long it takes. You’re not broken. You’re not confused. You’re becoming. And I’m becoming right there with you. What are your thoughts? With love, — Chrissy

Sorry, friends. I had to delete some of my most popular and erotic posts because they may have violated policies and could have been reported. I certainly don't want to get banned! Hopefully the producers of this site will come up with a way we can share explicit pics, videos and stories without violating the rules? Like those posts being visible to only age-verified or paying members? [Chloe] #crossdresser #policies #crossdressing #posts #photos #videos #femboy #sissy #sissyboy #shemale #gurl #tgirl #trans #lgbtq #gay #nsfw #transgirl #transwoman #transgender

About “Shemale Chrissy” Hello everyone, I want to introduce myself and share a little bit of my story with you. This is a space where I can express who I am—openly, honestly, and without shame. I’m still exploring parts of my identity, learning more about myself every day, and I hope to find friends, support, and maybe even a sense of belonging along the way. I want to clarify that I mean no offense to biological women. I deeply respect the struggles and experiences they have faced and continue to face. I acknowledge that I will never fully understand what it feels like to be a woman from birth, nor can I claim to have experienced that journey firsthand. That said, I’ve always felt more feminine than masculine and genuinely enjoy being perceived as a woman. Given my age, I don’t believe I can—or want to—fully transition or live as a woman full time. In truth, I may simply be a crossdresser who expresses their femininity in ways that make them feel whole. What matters to me is being able to embrace and live that side of myself authentically, even if it isn’t “traditional.” I also want to be honest about the terms I use to describe myself. I sometimes refer to myself as a “sissy” or a “shemale,” among other words. I mean no offense by these labels—they’re simply part of how I’m exploring my identity and finding language that fits me. Sometimes I use filters or soft edits in photos—not to trick anyone—but to help me live out a personal dream or fantasy, even just digitally. It’s for me, a way to see myself as I’ve always imagined. I like showing off and receiving compliments on my body. Growing up, I never really got that kind of positive attention, and expressing this side of me now is both empowering and healing. Recently, I’ve also realized that I want to showcase this part of myself more openly—perhaps even as a model. For me, this isn’t just performance; it’s a way to claim my identity and celebrate my femininity with confidence. Yes, some of the content I create and share is adult or pornographic in nature. I understand that’s not for everyone, and I respect that. But for me, it’s an expression of pride, sensuality, and self-love. More than anything, I’m here to find friends, support, and community—to connect, share experiences, and network with people who understand or want to learn. Thank you for your understanding and support. ❤️#crossdresser #shemale #sissy #lgbtq #nsfw #crossdressing #gay #trans #gurl #bio #transgirl #tgirl #transwoman #transgender

Oh no, I've done it again 😱 I've bought more shoes 👠 Oooops 🥰 So much for not buying anymore clothes and shoes 🤯 For those interested the brand is Even&Odd. I've Bought them from Zalando and they are available upto size 10.5

I love turning straight boys out 🥰 Theyre little faggots down to their core

So my second Temu order cleared customs on 20th, was received by the courier and nothing has happened since. I've contacted them and they are searching for it. No way it's arriving Monday so another £4 credit. I feel the gods don't want me to go outdoors dressed.