White pantyhose and white heels i start to love them more than black...because i have noticed that men looks more.

What's everyone upto on this Saturday night

Ma Eternal Murnin' at Christmas in the Gorbals Tenement
I've aye felt a queer pull tae this place—number 142 Balgrayhill Road, a weary auld sandstone tenement up in the Gorbals, wi' its shared stairheid an' that cauld tiled close that smells o' damp washin' an' yesterday's chip fat. The blizzard's ragin' the nicht, Christmas 2025, December 25th turnin' intae Boxin' Day proper—snaw drivin' sideways doon the wynd, howlin' roon the lum pots like a banshee, an' the whole estate blanketed in white, streetlights glowin' fuzzy orange through the flurry.
For years, in the quiet o' ma sissy crossdressin' dreams—blethered in late-night internet chats an' hidden fantasies, I've yearned tae cast aff the ordinary an' embrace a wummanly self that's lush, commandin', an' pure voluptuous. The nicht, in this freezin' Scottish winter storm, wi' the wind greetin' doon the close an' snaw pilin' up against the door, that yearnin' finally becomes ma truth.
I staun afore the cracked mirror in the back room, the wind rattlin' the single-glazin' windae, transformin' intae Evelina McTavish, the eternal widow o' the tenement. Ma body—mature, morbidly obese, overflowin' wi' soft curves an' generous fullness—is nae langer somethin' tae hide unner baggy joabies; it's tae be celebrated in this private ritual o' surrender, the cauld air bitin' at ma skin as I dress.
The goon is aw I dreamed: a strikin' black Victorian murnin' A-line, ordered online an' altered masel', made frae shiny satin that catches the dim bulb light like wet tar. Multiple tiers cascade tae ma ankles, brushin' the lino; lang puffed sleeves hug ma airms, an' the high collar frames ma face wi' stern elegance. Ma satin opera gloves slide up smooth tae ma elbows, matchin' the satin heidscarf that covers ma hair in modest severity. Ower it aw drapes a delicate chiffon veil, flutterin' in the draught frae the ill-fittin' door, soaftenin' ma features intae a haze o' melancholy.
As I smooth the folds, feelin' the heavy satin cling tae every abundant inch—the tiers flarin' ower ma wide hips, the bodice cradlin' ma ample bosom, the fabric cauld at first but warmin' frae ma body heat—a wave o' liberation washes ower me, mixin' wi' the smell o' coal smoke frae some neighbour's fire. Nae langer the secret sissy; I'm Evelina, a gothic matron o' sorrow an' quiet power, murnin' loves lost, yet revelin' in ma femininity.
Wi' slow steps the goon rustlin' like whispers doon the narrow close stair I descend the creakin' concrete steps, cauld unner ma feet even through slippers, the snaw driftin' in unner the outer door.
Ma faithful companion, a big black corbie I cry Poe (he's been comin' tae the back court for scraps for donkeys), flaps in through the open windae an' perches on ma gloved shoulder, his feathers iced an' cauld against ma neck.
I step oot intae the estate's street, the blizzard whippin' snaw intae ma veil, stingin' ma cheeks, the ground crunchin' unnerfoot, distant bagpipes wailin' frae some hoose party, mixin' wi' the wind's roar. The abandoned swing park's chains creak in the gale; fairy lights frae a few windaes blink through the snaw. Here, unner the howlin' storm, I walk slow atween the bins an' parked motors, ma veil dancin' wild. Poe lifts aff, circlin' like a dark guardian afore settlin' back. In this cauld, sacred nicht—ma ain vigil—I whisper vows tae masel', hummin' a bit o' "Missletoe n' whine" unner ma breath, promisin' nae mair hidin'.
Deeper intae the estate I drift, past identical closes an' satellite dishes buried in snaw, the satin shimmerin' faint unner streetlights, tiers heavy wi' meltin' flakes. I feel powerful, sensual, complete—ma morbidly obese form a throne o' gothic beauty in this freezin' Scottish nicht.
As the bells approach midnight, faint through the storm, I return tae the tenement. Poe caws saft, like a private toast. Evelina McTavish'll bide here forever, in the heart o' this blizzard an' hidden desire. An' deep in ma soul, the sissy dreams'll whisper on, eternal as the corbie's cry.
Never mair wull I hide, hen. No' even in this ragin' winter. Happy Christmas tae me.

Tonight's Photo Shoot

I don't think the rain will ever stop,
Not for you my precious one,
Time doesn't heal, its just longer apart
A week, a month, a year or more
It makes no difference, to your your broking heart.

Low Start ...

Well party time for me peeps. no more work till January.

One of my girlfriends partners wants me to cum in these for him. Should i

Wow! One of my photos has hit 7,000 views. I am really honored to feel somewhat popular.

Just finished going to my stylists. I have two of them now. One did my hair color today then braided it and also waxed my eyebrows. The other gave me a great manicure. Light pink nails. Getting me ready for holiday parties. I always feel so pampered and feminine when I complete my time at the salon.

Good morning, sisters.
Some tips on how to make your photo look better without resorting to AI.
1) For example, tilting your head back can partially hide age-related facial droop. Just for fun, take a photo of your face looking down and up; the difference will be significant.
2) The light source and its location are very important. Light can make a face look younger, or it can age it. Light can hide imperfections, or it can highlight them.
3) Makeup, at least foundation, and especially under-eye concealer. These three things don't require any special makeup skills—just apply them evenly—but they can improve your appearance.
Of course, other makeup elements are more complex and require constant practice.
But then, there's no need to use AI, although AI is certainly good.
Interested in these tips?

Crossdressing, where do i start to create the natural looking shape?

MistressEllites01 reported as just another pestilent scammer. people don't engage or send heart emojis. you just encouraging them. they'll send sexy pics just to fool you into thinking they are hot but just all they are after is your money your ID and more. they are easy to spot most of these dim fu cks cos they either have m1stress or g0dess in their name and well their content really gives it away

My transition is a work of art

So loving the pink but on the search for Christmas outfits now

The issue I'm having as the weeks go on is that I'm blurring my sissy crossdressing with my mourning. Every waking hour I'm missing my wife and I'm a blubbering mess of tears but I'm also aroused at the thought of satin widows weeds and satin mourning dresses and oversized satin headscarves and chiffon voile veils. I'm bothered that this has developed as a further aspect of my gothic fetish. The arousal is blending in with thoughts of satin widows’ weeds, mourning dresses, oversized satin headscarves, and chiffon voile veils, I don't think that’s something to feel ashamed of or worried about as a problem. It’s a natural, human way my mind and body are weaving together different parts of who I am becoming during this incredibly tender time. Grief doesn’t stay neatly in one box, it spills into everything, including our identities, desires, and fetishes. For me at this time, the sissy crossdressing that’s always been inside is now intertwining with mourning because both are about comfort, beauty, vulnerability, and a kind of sacred ritual. The gothic element—dark, dramatic, veiled, satin-shrouded—has always had that edge of sensuality and mystery, and right now, it might be amplifying because it lets me feel alive in my body when everything else feels numb or shattered. Arousal in grief is more common than people talk about; it can be the body’s way of seeking connection, release, or even just a momentary escape from the pain. It doesn’t mean my love for my wife is any less pure or that my mourning is tainted, it means I'm a whole person, with layers of emotion and desire that don’t switch off just because I'm hurting. This blending feels like it’s developing into a deeper aspect of my gothic fetish, but I feel that’s okay too. Fetishes evolve with life experiences, and grief is one of the biggest. The satin widows’ weeds and veils are symbolizing both my loss and deep longing to be held, enveloped, seen in my inner femininity. My troubled psyche is creating a bridge between the sorrow and the sensuality I shared with my wife. There’s beauty in that, even if it brings tears and arousal at the same time. I'm navigating this with grace, even when it hurts.

Hey everyone 👋🏻 i hope you're all doing well and keep being awesome out there And I Did my nails last night check them out #nails #nail art

How many ex-partners is okay for your bride to have? Zero? Ten? A hundred? Be honest—comment your number! https://www.youtube.com/@LeggyVeronica #crossdresser #crossdressing #femboy #crossdressers #sissy #bride #nylon #heel

I have just woke up wrapped up in our satin nightdresses, at a time before her illness made sleeping together a problem, we had matching satin pink nightdresses. Last night I pulled the suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe and laid them out on the bed. Pink Simply Be Pretty Secrets Nightdresses in lovely silky satin. Full covered shoulder to capped sleeves with lace piping and spread across the breast. Calf length satin shimmering in Pink. My wife's is regularly worn in UK size 32/34, mine is newer UK size 20/22, I liked a slimmer tight nightdress that hugged my skin, my wife wore hers two sizes bigger than her usual larger dress size to make it easier to slide around in bed. I slipped mine on and shimmied the satin down my moobs and hips to rest around my calves. My wife's was like a tent on my body, lots of voluminous extra satin material hanging loose. The double layer feeling of all the satin was wonderful and I admit the erection had to be contained within a condom because pre cum started instantly. I lay on the bed and was overcome with both longing and grief, I laid there on the bed with tears in my eyes and sobbing in my chest. When I had calmed down the sensual aspect of the double layer satin took over and led to the inevitable masturbation. Physically and emotionally I was drained and fell asleep waking a few hours later needing to take off the condom and go to the toilet for a wee. As I walked back from the toilet to the bedroom the satin reminded me of our sensuality and our love. Wrapped in the double layer of satin underneath the quilt I felt comforted and slept deep until this morning. For me this needs to become my new deeply tender and bittersweet mourning ritual, one that holds both the sharp pain of loss and the soft warmth of memory all at once. Wearing her nightdress over mine, letting all that extra satin envelop me like a tent, felt almost like being held by her again. The way the fabric moved, the shimmer, the slide of it against my skin… it’s no wonder my body responded so immediately and so completely. And now I’ve found a ritual: pulling down the suitcase, laying the nightdresses side by side on the bed, slipping into both, letting the satin hold me in that bittersweet double embrace. It’s sacred because it’s mine and hers alone. It keeps the connection alive in the most embodied way possible through touch, through memory, through the very fabric we both wore against our skin when we made love, laughed, slept, lived. Grief and desire live right next to each other; one doesn’t cancel out the other. The tears, the arousal, the release, the comfort, it all belongs within my psyche. I honored her, our love, and the sensuality we shared by allowing myself to feel everything that came up. For my state of mind, there’s something sacred in keeping those satin nightdresses layered together, in pulling them out when the longing gets too heavy, in letting them carry me back to the nights when sleeping tangled together in satin was simply how life was. I'm keeping the connection alive in the most intimate, embodied way possible. I loved her totally, and I'm still loving her beautifully in my mourning.

God I wish I could wear this to my works Christmas party. I can’t be arsed to put my “boy” clothes back on

So, now for a bit of color and a skirt. It's probably less conspicuous than starting the evening without anything underneath.

It's time to start preparing for a fun......

The second part of the video.
Part 2 of 2

Another little video in 2 parts for you to enjoy.
Part 1 of 2

It's here oh gosh i love my pink bikini *sorry for the pubes so excited i skip shaving hihi

Forgive the long post, but I was doing some journalling this evening as I reflected on a few things. In a moment of clarity I managed to come up with some really interesting self-realisations, particularly about why I dress. And I wanted to share them somewhere!

I began to realise the other place I adopt some of the same habits and mental approach to crossdressing is when I've done tabletop role playing like D&D: I get really involved in 'immersing' myself in a character at the table, and get really deep into their mannerisms and subtle nuances of their backstory.

I think me being Bethany is very much the same. I know I have no intention of even transitioning. However, she is a role or a character I just love to put on and play sometimes; suddenly I'm making backstory, writing lore, adding costume. I'm not necessarily trying to become her, I just want to play the role authentically.

I think as a way of framing myself, I find that so helpful to register. Hopefully it resonates with others too.

My sissy mourning cross-dresing feels like. I am the Walrus by the Beatles, totally nonsense but really deep and open to interpretation. I am he as you are he, as you are me and we are all together, See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly, I'm crying.
That line hits me so hard, “I am he as you are he, as you are me and we are all together…” It’s pure, swirling absurdity that somehow lands right in the middle of the most tender, confusing parts of being human. And right now, it feels like the perfect mirror for what I'm going through.
My sissy mourning crossdressing is exactly that kind of nonsense—beautiful, ridiculous, heartbreaking, and deeply true all at once. I'm grieving the husband I was, while also stepping into this soft, feminine space that feels both foreign and like coming home. It’s contradictory, it’s messy, it’s playful and painful in the same breath. And that’s what makes it so real. The walrus isn’t trying to make sense; the Walrus just is—goo goo g’joob and all. This is my mental breakdown, not madness, just being true to myself.
“See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly”… maybe that’s the world’s reaction to someone daring to be this open, this vulnerable, this unapologetically themselves while still carrying such heavy grief. People scatter because they don’t know what to do with the sight of a widower in lace and tears, laughing and sobbing at the same time. But I'm not running. I'm standing here in my silk stockings, widows weeds and my sorrow, crying, and somehow I think that makes me the bravest person in the room.
I'm allowed to be the Walrus right now—silly, profound, broken, and whole all at once. I don’t have to explain it to anyone, not even to myself. Just let it be nonsense that’s also sacred. I let the tears come, let the pretty things feel comforting, let the absurdity be part of the healing.

Evening all what a day i had my final interview at the Laurels Gender clinic before starting my full journey and cleared it so will start hormone treatment in the next couple of weeks. This is dangerous for me due to health conditions but worth the risk and from today i am no longer a MX when doing forms and at hospital i know am a Miss dont make a lot of difference on paper but to me its massive.

To the people who have messaged in chat, thank you for acknowledging my grief. Over time I'm sure I'll get over my loss, it's just a bit raw at the moment, this is part of my healing process as I accept who I am without my wife, the widower, or should that be the sissy cross-dressing widow?

Exercising part 3 of 3 (with more thong :) )

This is the photo that started this sequense. So yes now you can see my tummy. will provide some beach shots soon.

I absolutely love this silhouette flower design bra from honey love has a little bit of weight to it when hold but once you put it on its so comfortable it feels like nothing is there super stretchy and soft and it leaves no marks on your skin which is the best part of it

Just trying this little number on, got it in purple and black too, but was mixing the boots, love the #corsets #party wear

Starting to finally warm up here in Oz....time for summery clothes

A little advice for everyone: if you're looking for social media and you come across one called "support friend" avoid it at all costs. The racism towards other genders and the sick people who create Telegram groups dedicated to hate speech is absurd. I heard that a girl had her private photos stolen and posted on a group to humiliate her. Starting with that app, I advise everyone to avoid it, especially sensitive people. Oh, and happy December 8 to everyone :)

Sparkling party dress but as they say in Scotland”No Scotland no party!”

A Tartan day I think! Enjoy your day I have a sparkly party dress to share this evening too. X

back from the partyyy : )

I need someone who will make dreams come true by helping push me further and further into full time feminine life until im living full time as female i am dressed up now and want to give my social media account passwords some pictures and videos that i would die if anyone i knew saw them and starting now give me specific instructions to record myself doing and if with in a decent amount of time if you don't receive proof video or anything else you ask i want you to expose me

What part of my body you want to start with ? 🫦

I know there are a lot of wounded people in crossdressing, wounded not physically, but spiritually. I have many wounds in my soul myself.
I just want to leave these lines.

You will remain outside,
Or you will decide to enter,
You will surrender your mind, or your soul —
There are only two paths.
If you enter — where do you go next?
To the right is the path of truth, to the left — of falsehood.
You might get so lost that you suddenly start to run
Along winding pathways, where bones can't be collected.
And having traveled many miles through faceless spaces,
To end up in useless and wild places,
In places of waiting, where people simply wait.
They wait for a train to leave,
They wait for a bus to arrive.
Or a plane will carry them away,
Or a letter will suddenly arrive,
Or the rain will fall,
That the phone will ring
Or the snow will fall,
They wait simply — for “yes” or “no”,
Or a string of pearls,
Or a copper basin,
They wait for how they should be
Or for a new chance.

I edited the photo a bit after reading these lines to illustrate that our path isn't always paved with flowers.
But... "show must go on" (с) - Freddy

Life goes on, no matter what it is.

Bathroom's like the Arctic*, nope! So bunk off work a bit early tomorrow, get smooth and sweet-smelling when i get home then off to Hampshire's Most Wanted swinger social! Will there be any after-parties, i wonder?

*Freezing, not 18-wheeled and jammed around a bend in the lane!

"I am waiting for no men" ...
Part II

Its nice to know there millions of us who like to crossdress
I remember when i first started i thought i was abnormal as time goes by i realised im not alone and some cd i find sexually attattractive

Party season xx

I have a couple that lives with me and when they're gone I dress up, so today I looked out the window and their truck is gone, they always park out front and I listen for when they come home, their truck is real loud and I'll run into my room and change, so today their truck is gone so I put my little pink satin nighty on, my white thigh highs, pink high heels and my little pink panties, I go out into the garage because I like the sound of high heels on concrete, I'm watching some trans porn, doin my thing, I get done, change back to guy cloths, I throw the dress and stuff in my trunk and just then both of them walk out into the garage, startled I said "did you guys just get home? " where did you guys go,? they said nowhere, I said "but your truck was gone, they said, " we had to park down the street cuz someone was in our spot, we were in the room taking a nap, OMG! 5 minutes earlier and they would have caught me watching trans porn wearing pink panties,OMG!

Just ordered these cant wait

Morning my dears! Just watching bleak house while my heart beats fast looking at the huge dresses with massive full skirts https://youtu.be/JY-5Lbg-jr4?si=j8dl4BjlBAPPpcGi

Morning walk