A sidenote to binding.

This is rather a short entry, something that happened to amuse me the other day.

Mother had mentioned not wearing binders again… but I knew I’d want to wear one of the easier to get on and off ones just to see the difference.

And… When I tried one on, it was STILL TIGHT. I have had this batch of binders for months now… and I thought they were knackered.


Thing is, I was just used to my chest being flattened. My breasts were long used to being pulled and compressed they were penduluming. That, and hormones had done their thing a little too.

The moment I tried it on I realised, my binders for now still do have a use. If I feel my chest is moving around too freely I can restrict it during recovery… or, I can of course let things be and get used to things.


The model I used is T-Kingdom’s 801 People shit on them being lightweight all of the time… but I love them, they’re easy to adjust to and good in summer. Easy to look after, and surprisingly, more than I had ever known before, they keep their elasticity.

The second model I use/d is T-Kingdom’s M1500, an older model of the design that didn’t have the logo on the chest (and the model before that with different tags)

It’s interesting to see that they also have a new model out I can’t find reference to the old edition but I will say now that I originally DID have one of this style, the new back design looks like it would be much more comfortable.

I also started out with this model, but the fit didn’t agree with me and the velcro was problematic.

Since I started buying the two types I know work for me they seem to have developed a few more Tshirt style binders. The best way to look at which design would work for you is to consider the information on This page (scroll up it also has information for first time wearers).

I went for the XL size in the end as I was a 38″back at one point, and due to the penduluming it was just better overall. When I first bought at least one set of my binders I had them in both Large and Extra Large and found the XL had more fabric coverage in general and was better for me.

NEVER wear one that is too small for any period of time. (The binder that was large did have give in it as the size difference wasn’t too major. The worst side effect of the sizing was the fat poking out because of the squeeze xD).




Sorry for the less than stellar updates lately, there has been a lot on my mind.

Now I have plenty of time to work things out, as, I’m recovering from chest surgery.

More specifically a double mastectomy with a dermal flap chest wall reconstruction. I had my operation done on the National Health Service (NHS), meaning, I had no choice with surgeon or hospital. Going private is something that a lot of people in my position find that they have to do, I was one of the lucky ones.

My surgical team was headed by Miss Grit Dabritz and for what I know she is based in Manchester, Lancashire. One of the other surgeons I met on the day has worked closely with a hospital far closer to my home and is (if I remember right) based in Bolton.

I was the second of two people in for the same procedure, I was admitted and marked up and had to wait a fair few hours to be seen… all the while the threat of being turned away as in the back of my mind. Emergency patients that come in do get priority with beds on a ward, there were at least five admitted to beds the same day the day patients department opened up.

I found it hilarious that I managed to sweat away almost half of the permanent marker markups while waiting in a very stuffy waiting area. It’s a good thing they do a standing and lying markup.

Having never been put under anaesthetic before I became more and more anxious about it. The people I had met had wonderful senses of humour and were all lovely. I remember panicking when I was being put to sleep, beginning to panic… and then, struggling to move as I was waking up again.

Apparently I was in pain as I don’t really remember a lot from that night. I know I was taken to the ward later than I had expected and managed to send out a text to my parents to say I had landed… and that’s about it.

I had been warned that as soon as I was coming round I would feel as if I had been hit by a bus, I was lucky enough not to be aware when that was the case.

It was (and still is) unnerving to think about the chest drains, well, I think anyone would be unnerved to see and feel tubes coming out of themselves with bags of blood attached to the ends. One of the nurses gave me a plastic bag to put the two drain bags in so it was a little less unnerving moving around, specially when I had visitors seeing me.

Don’t ever be ashamed of not having people visit you, but if you can… Make sure you see at least one person on at least one of your full days of admission. It will help break up your stay and give you something other than discharge to look forward to. If you can’t, I’m sorry try making the most of your stay on the ward by communicating to the bed either side of you.

Thing is, the anaesthetic was still working its way through my system and I was drowsy most of the time. Coupled with a bad first night’s sleep and the painkillers I was sleeping most of the time, or at least barely able to stay fully alert.

I had taken a book with me (only a small one, Phantom of the Opera), I had my phone, I had my 3DS. I managed to read the same passage four times before giving up with my book, I played through maybe one small thing on my 3DS… My attention span didn’t want to work at all during my stay and I was more than happy watching the world go by.

Two days after discharge was when I could finally poop. Sounds stupid, but Dad had warned me that his missus was plugged up for days… low and behold that was indeed the case. On the ward and at home I was constantly drinking water and peeing more frequently than I thought I was drinking.

Three days after discharge I had my follow up appointment with my practice nurse – my surgery was on the Thursday before a bank holiday weekend and I had to wait till the Tuesday to be able to see any medical professional post discharge.

Mum helped me to wash my hair for the first time in a week, knelt over the shower as she helped me get that sorted. At one point she recommended that I take my shirt off to make it easier – and quickly said ‘oh wait I don’t wanna see’ and turned so I could get knelt over the bath. She felt awful after about saying it, thinking it nasty… but… to be honest I get it.

At first I couldn’t stand seeing the dressings as they were, they freaked me the fuck out. Even after the drains were removed. After the visit to the nurse when the dressings were changed, that, that was when I started to calm down about them.

A week after Surgery and I still can’t lie on my side… which is irritating, but I knew that would be the case. I sleep on my side normally and having to sleep on my back is just plain annoying, I can’t lie flat either but hey ho that’s the way it is.


I can’t really think of anything really negative about things so far… just…

If you do happen to have your surgeries away from home, be prepared to travel the long distance a minimum of four times. No, really. Unless you wish to spend at least a fortnight at the surgery site you will have to back and forth it a lot.

First will be the pre-op, then the surgery (and post operative appointment soon after discharge), then a two week later-ish checkup, six months later.

When being discharged from the hospital I was told none of this, not even the type of stitches I had or anything. So, to find out four days after discharge that I still have another trip down to Manchester ahead of me I was rather pissed off.

I am not in receipt of benefits so I get absolutely none of my expenses for travel covered. Which, in itself is fine. I mean, if you’re worse off than me financially then I say see what you can and can’t get back. When I say I earn too much to claim, I mean that lightly, there’s plenty of months where I’m barely getting by, and I have to somehow find the money to go back to Manchester after the prior two trips practically wiped me out financially.


I knew I’d have to save up, but by the christ this is just too much. Without ANY warning. I mean, if I can have my followup from surgery at my doctors practice, why can’t I also have the two weeks later one done close to home too.


Oh well, at least no more binders. When I get back at home I will try one of the easier to get on and off ones on to see the difference. It’d be hilarious to see, that’s for sure. Even mum knows I think of them as a pain in the arse and mentioned them too.


I can’t honestly think of anything else to say on the issue, but hell if you have questions please do ask and I’ll do what I can to answer them.

Anger and Acceptance.

I happened on this video on youtube. The thumbnails are clickbait, but hell I was bored and curious. It’s actually quite a well thought out video as it covers positive female role models.

However, there are some issues with their first mention who is male. Rather, a female that is a Man. It made news quite some time ago and all of that shite… and, well, to be honest…

I can’t find fault in either sides argument. Just that he is far more selfless and brave than I am. The thought of giving birth truly horrifies me. I’m not saving my eggs. I’m having my womb out asap (for medical reasons as well as the obvious one). So, to me personally I can’t even imagine the thought of carrying a child. There’s no way he’d be able to breast feed as he appears to be post chest surgery… but saying that, how much would biology alter those results.

How much damage will have been done to the child due to the unnatural concentration of testosterone? Or not, simply because they would have taken in the aid and advice of the medical professionals around them to ensure as safe a pregnancy as possible.

Though, all of that shite isn’t the reason I’m writing this.

Take a look at this comment chain.

There is a comment that has spouted a LOT of responses. While on my mobile I had to press read more quite a few times to reveal that people are FAR too quick to attack those that make honest comments.

The original post has since been edited, for now it reads as this –

Biologically he still a woman inside. A man never can give birth.

I believe originally it was all caps and didn’t have the word Biologically. The fact that the post has been edited shows that the poster is willing to listen to those that actually speak with them as a person.

This is the first post I have submitted to the shitstorm

sorry you endured all of the hate and anger dear… perhaps the op needs an edit or two. Subsequent replies by yourself explain what you meant in a far more eloquent way. I dispise tumblr white knights… always on the attack. Where, I’m trans and… hell I know where you’re coming from and as far as I’m concerned you’re right. shrug

NOTE- A very dear friend of mine still has a tumblr. I had a tumblr (before the Yahoo buyout but that’s another story). I enjoy posts I see on tumblr. However, it has become a very irritating place to observe. This youtube video says all I need to about the site.

Their response to myself (darn near buried)

+Nolascana​ THANK YOÜ.. Your comment brought tears to my eyes..You touched my heart.. 😘GOD BLESS YOU

This is the second response I have left on the matter. At this point it might not even be the last… it all depends on who replies to me.

You’re welcome.

It surprised me how people were completely on the attack. Instead of trying to talk about things rationally, people that (in my opinion) have little buisiness getting as invested and involved in something of such a nature. My biological sex will never change. I know I’m only altering my appearance and chemical balances and so on.

So… yes, as you said. He is still a woman inside. As I always will be. A man cannot give birth.

Even the seahorse argument is moot. We are humans.

I think a lot of people went on the attack perhaps because of the initial phrasing and all of that.

There’s no sense in getting angry, if anything that makes people stick to their points even harder – whether they are right or wrong.

I have met people that have categorically said that I shouldn’t get any of my operations on the NHS. I’ve had others arguing back – with such anger- that they were wrong.
Thing is, I know where they’re coming from. But, likewise I said to them ‘fine, but I don’t want to pay for people that go to A&E for accidents involving alcohol consumption that could have been avoided if they were sober’.
My saying that, was, and always will be more effective than people fighting those battles for me.
I hope this ebbs down for you soon. Be well!

And to be honest… This is mostly how I feel in general about my situation.

Accepting. I know that this in many ways is a pointless journey I am on… but on the other hand. It is not.

I just hate how other people jump in to defend me on such issues. It’s as if I am incapable of talking to people that don’t agree with the way I chose to live. Transitioning is a choice I have made. A series of many. Because the alternative was not worth the pain.

I often find myself defending those that would probably spit on me on sight… purely because punching them is only going to anger them more than sitting them down with a coffee and telling them we will have to agree to disagree.


I am far luckier than your average transgender person. I hear so many stories about them being made homeless and being beaten for being who they are.

Thing is, I’ve managed to slip under the radar. I’ve lived in a homophobic area and not once drawn their attention. I’ve worked a poorly paid job and… well, managed to keep a poorly paid job I suppose.

I have moved country, and found the move has done me a world of good. I’ve had people ask SO many questions that none of them are original anymore.

I’ve managed to find a decently paying job, after only three weeks of unemployment, and managed to keep it. I now live in a city. On my own.

Not neccessarily where I hoped to live, but still, I’m making a go of it. My building neighbors mostly call me male, there’s one neighbor that calls me she.

People at work mess up the pronouns. I don’t always notice, or, should I say visibly notice. Sometimes I’ll ask my department workers if I heard what I think I heard… and move on.

At first, people messing up the pronouns used to piss me off. Didn’t matter who it was it’d annoy me. Now it’s water off a ducks back, because I know it won’t happen forever.

At work, I recently had one of the newer blokes confused as HELL as I was discussing one of a friend’s relatives. He has a niece that wishes to transition. And we were discussing perhaps the nephew meeting me, or perhaps having my details if he wishes to speak to me. I even mentioned his mother being there too if she wished. Everything would be done in the city centre n all that…

And the coworker looked at us both. I simply laughed and told him I’m a transman. I was honestly surprised to learn he didn’t already know. He had thought I was a gay man… though the odd thing I’d say, or others would say, didn’t seem to add up.

I’ve learned to be open about my situation. Colleagues have to have my back (thank you equality in the workplace legislation), or at the least tolerate me for me. I’ve had one of my department workmates simply shrug and say he sees me as a dude with tits… as, there’s been an occasion where one of my binders has malfunctioned to the point of restricting my breathing. I had to explain to him that an ambulance wasn’t necessary, I’d be able to resolve the reason of me being close to passing out if I went to the nearest restroom asap.

He’s not really seen me out of work, but he knows the situation, and he knows I’m pre op.


Hell, nearly I’m not.

I ALMOST already had my upper op… but, well, medical complications being what they are, I now have to wait till the end of the month.

I was too hurt to say anything about the cancellation at the time. Too scared to say anything about the impending operation prior to the events.

So… yes, milestones.

To me it’s just another thing… it’s… part of the process to me.


At least work is accepting that I will have a considerable amount of time off. There are regulations in place to protect me when I’m trying to get back into work.


I feel there’s an incredible amount of postcode lottery going on where some of the legislation is, however, I did move 300 miles away from where I was born. That move, if I hadn’t made it, I feel that I wouldn’t even be having my operation this year at all.


I guess, a lot of what makes this easier. A LOT easier, is that I have accepted a lot about myself, and the way people are.

I don’t get angry about as many small things, things that are petty and all that… I don’t make as many mountains out of molehills anymore. If I were on my soap box going ‘look at me, I’m a special snowflake and demand different treatment.’ everyone would turn on me within moments. Causing more trouble for myself, than just living my life…

I dunno.

Just, calm yo tits people… or, if you find that you are amongst more educated people. Contain the calamity that is your mammaries.

13. Only to Fall

“Well… Shit…” Keyah blinked owlishly a moment before he went and poured himself a half pint of vodka, he made a gesture to his partner that read ‘just wait a minute’ before he downed half of it. “Alright, so. You’ve been talking to my granpa, and he sent you to someone else…” Keyah rolled his hand a little “And, now, down the line, you’re on hormones, and it’s taken all this time for you to be able to tell me?” Keyah was oddly calm, but there was no accusation in his voice.


“… Well it’s not exactly easy to tell the man I’ve been fucking that I’m a woman…” Dean felt like strangling Keyah… more of a fight was expected.

“…It’s not easy to hear either.” Keyah sighed and moved to look out of the window.

via 13. Only to Fall.

Well, whoops!

Now I know why I couldn’t write the next chapter of the Blue Arrow! Dean didn’t want to remain Dean much longer!

I am taking a LOT of liberties with Dean’s treatment and transition to Stephanie… But, I really don’t think that I should have to trawl through more than the ten pages of information on boob growth alone before writing this chapter up.

Dee’s family have big mammaries as far as the women go, Dean’s an averagely heighted slightly shorter man, so any breast growth of his wouldn’t be too hampered by height. There’s also going to be lots of padding going on in most outfits and… yes, Deanna is always going to be given away by those hands. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but a LOT of the transition will happen in the background.

This story is Keyah’s.

He still has sex with his partner while they can both stand it, but he doesn’t have unrealistic expectations. He’s not Deanna’s boyfriend anymore, they’re friends and fuckbuddies that happen to love one another a hell of a lot.

By coming out Deanna has forever changed the dynamic of the relationship. There’s no looking past that.

By communicating with one another they manage to muddle through like they always have done.

I’m a sap for character driven stories, and this is just another chapter in Keyah’s. His support network is growing and he isn’t perfect, but with the right amount of alcohol he’ll be ballsy enough to try anything.

March(ish) Update

Just checking into this thing to say yeah… I moved.

Things are… so far pretty ok.

Door a couple of floors down was kicked in yesterday so its like, yup, quite a bit of nagging partial regret is getting bigger. I live closer to work and I’ve managed to make and keep friends and so forth… but… at what cost. Why am I working where I do… all the same questions anyone asks themselves at any point I guess.

Finances are likely to settle down… but they’re still up in the air, especially because… well –  Council Tax, Car Insurance, Credit Card… All three are shits, as… I’ve had to put more on the credit card becaaaause –

I’ve been referred to a surgeon down back in Manchester.

I live in Scotland now, and I used to live RIGHT NEXT TO FUCKING MANCHESTER… and now I’m 300 miles away. Smart fucking move referral people. There’s seriously NOT a surgeon in Scotland, AT ALL. Thanks NHS Scotland…

Well – actually, remove the sarcasm. Thanks indeed. I actually mean it. I’m one payslip away from being able to send of my gender recognition form and whatnot. And the same month, a consultation at a surgeons so… yeah, I’m apprehensive at getting there on time but… Here’s hoping they don’t mind if I do end up a few minutes late… I’m relying heavily on public transport and I will likely not make it on time… but… well… either that or i get there over six hours early… which I probably should do but well… here’s hoping the bus I can get will at least get me there in time for the appointment… if all goes well I shouldn’t be much more than five minutes late.

If I’m lucky then… well… if I’m lucky I will be on time… Im gonna have to get a taxi… woo… *leheaddesk*

There’s more shit I wanted to write now but fuck it… I’ll just share some shit I made with a dressup thing on RinmaruGames


Kearlynne Anacsalon


Nolascana Anacsalon

Budget Packers [ nsfw images ]

I’ve shied away from buying a packer for several reasons. Mostly it’s the cost. I was hoping for a stand to pee but… I can live a while longer without.

Most shippers would have been from the states too. Living in Scotland (formerly England) would have meant some costly shipping, or a hell of a wait. More than likely it would mean both, and customs isn’t friendly at the best of times.

Recently Bondara have started selling packers, or at least it’s only recently I’ve noticed –  because of at least one model being in one of the sales when I had a look.

Mr Limpy Fleshlights

“These amazing Mr Limpy Fleshlights are great accessories that are made to simulate a flaccid penis and create the bulging look of male genitals; perfect for transgender customers or anyone experimenting with gender play. These high quality packing accessories are made with your comfort and confidence in mind so you can experience and display the realistic shape and size of a male bulge. Made with soft and pliable material, Mr Limpy faux penis accessories will move and feel like the real thing through your clothes[…]This Bondara collection of My Limpy Fleshlights is full of amazing sex accessories that are designed to help transgender men or those dabbling in gender play create the bulge and crotch shape they desire. These accessories are soft and pliable with an incredibly realistic feel. This means the penis will move slightly as you walk, like a real penis would, and be supple to the touch the same way a flaccid penis would be. These Mr Limpy accessories are made to give transgender males confidence and comfort in everyday life plus the potential erotic thrill of gender play.”

I took the plunge and well… they aren’t kidding. I bought a Small because… well, I thought that 5.5 Inches sounded just right for me. NOTE- Free UK delivery on orders £10 and up. Small is £10.99 so you’re not pressured into buying anything extra. The only thing with the Extra small currently being £9.99 is that you might want to see about getting something cheap and cheerful to go with your lil fella.

Bondara pack discreetly, I can swear by that. It’s not the first time I’ve ordered something from them *cough* Sign up and you get 5% off of every order too. This is something worth mentioning if one ever needs to stock up on lubricants and so forth xD (No I’m not getting paid for this) [Orders outside the UK please refer to the shipping page before ordering]

So here it is (as of yet unnamed xD) – for those wondering yes, fits snugly in a jock strap and presents the way it’s supposed to.


The detailing is honestly something else. Not just the feel, but every small detail. They cast this with either accuracy, or love. I’d like to think a mixture of the two. Here’s some extra information they provide about the Small.

Made by Fleshlight from their trademark ‘Real Feel Superskin’ Mr Limpy Small boasts a modest 5 inches of droopy length. Soft and supple enough to be manipulated into a range of positions, Mr Limpy Small is perfect for transgender packing and is brilliant as a novelty item for parties, hen/stag nights or even just as a unique coffee table ornament. Just don’t expect to use Mr Limpy as a sex toy; Limpy by name, limpy by nature.

Prices might change, but I think it could be safe to say that they won’t alter drastically. Also, if one wants, I don’t see why this model couldn’t be turned into a stand to pee, with some tubing and the right tools it’s worth a looksee. Though I will say now, I’m as pale as they come… so… many other skin tones might be a little lost with that and some dying might be in order. But as a stand alone packer, I’d say it makes a difference for sure.

I only intend on using it when I feel a need to. I don’t feel that it’s going to impact much on my work life as I’m behind a counter most of the time and I currently only own the single Jockstrap. When I’m going anywhere where someone’s going to be mindful of my junk (and not notice the lack of) then fine, I’ll pop him in. Day to day… Still not sure, I think I have to adjust to wearing one occasionally before it becomes a full time thing. Like it or not it’s an adjustment.

So yes, I cowardly leave you with pictures of my hand, and definitely no demonstrations, and still more information I’d tell people face to face (close people that is!).

NOTE- there is a Renewing powder that Fleshlight sell – at least one review I can see says it’s just cornflour… so… keep in mind if you want it to keep feeling great there could be some maintenance (general wear and tear from fabrics might be increased with tight clothing)

Month 3 Day… 23?

Oh god the ITCHING. I shit you not. Since a certain part of my anatomy is larger than normal its not resting as cushy as it used to…

And not only is my underwear giving me some grief with the seams sometimes… Well…

To be blunt its rubbing against my pubic hair and itching like hell. And yes, after trial and error with various things i face the dilemma. To trim or not to trim.

Im starting to get hair where i didn’t – thin wisps on chest etc and maybe on my hands etc. I don’t wanna start getting rid of too much.

My facial hair is annoying as its still wispy. Some is coloured, but its still not enough.

All of these confessions to the internet make me laugh in a way. My mum asked what changes etc and i was like… Yeah i cant answer that.

She expected me to be able to, as if i were talkin to someone else… Yeah sure, i see that happening.

I don’t think she realises just how personal the changes are. I gave her a vague as hell answer as its all i could bring myself to say really…

More spots, not quite acne, but… Patterns of.