Pink Pillows

The term 'Pink Fog' gets used quite often when minds of the transgendered wander away into fantasies of their femme selves, edges blurred, flowers move aside gently from hairless legs, lingerie dripping off hangers, pleading to be caressed and worn close to the body.  Floaty dresses waft like welcoming ghosts towards the T-self, finally rising over the body and before drifting down for a perfect fit.


Well, that's how I imagine the Pink Fog to be for others.


To me, it's more like having a fight with very soft, but vicious Pink Pillows.   There's a few moments when I am aware of their presence.  A wave of softness building like a surfer's transport normally seen at the start of Hawaii 5-0.  And just like a wave, it usually dissipates it's energy, flowing away from me, leaving me enlightened, sometime slightly saddened, sometimes happy depending on location, time and mood.


Now and again, however, the wave hardens.  Takes form.  Co-ordinates it's actions.  And beats  away the male self, leaving the femme to come to the fore.  It's a wonderful feeling, but very painful.  Very rarely is there a good time for it to hit.  Trying to help a customer at work whilst remaining calm and coherent takes a concerted effort.  If a woman walks past me wearing killer shoes, I just want to go and rip them off her feet.


It never feels as if I'm being beaten in a single movement.  It's always from two or more sides. I try to move away, to hide.  But the Pink Pillows are there crashing into me.  Not hurting, but trapping.  With the attempts to escape come the pain.


Even just lying down, in bed or on the sofa, I start to enjoy it's warm, it's softness, before it then tears at my mind taking me away from him pushing me to her.  I can't lay down anymore, I need to stand up, move, do something.  Dressing can take away the fire but is usually not convenient.  So ten minutes of hard exercise quenches the fire, dampens the femme spirit.  Life begins to settle back into normality.


Occasionally I can enjoy it.  Sitting down on a cold winter's night.  Hot chocolate in hand.  Succumbing to the Pink Pillows, mind drifting off into another world, far away from the harshness of the physical environment, before being gently placed back down contented that it came and glad that it evaporated back into the ether once more.


However, out over the sea of lilac, there's another gentle swell and it's heading for the reef.