from Bryn

Dear Auntie Helga,

It seems like every six months or so, there have been new developments, or I am making new discoveries that I can tell others about how I am affected by my necessary feminisation. This time is no different with two incidents that have been very important for me and that might be of interest to others?

During one visit to hospital, I was asked if I minded the female students observing my case? Since I was in a teaching hospital, I agreed. Fortunately it is on my records that I am not to be treated by male members of staff and so they did only bring in the female students. If I had realised what was involved, I would not have agreed. I assumed it would only be talking about my case, as my injuries are so unusual that whenever I am in hospital, there never seems to be a shortage of people interested in them.

There was the usual going over of my history and outline of the injuries. But then I was asked to stand up and turn round to face the bed. She (the teaching Doctor) lifted the back of my tee shirt and pulled my underwear out, telling the students to check the seat of my knickers for any signs of blood from a breakdown of the skin. One by one I felt them pulling the back of my knickers out and then to each side as they too looked down inside my underwear. When they had finished, I was leaned forward and my knickers were taken down as they all put on latex gloves to inspect my bottom. Blood only happens when the skin has become so bad that it has split, but the early signs are discolouration and so the skin needs to be checked thoroughly as well for any signs of darkening as a pressure sore reaches stage one.

I felt what I assume was the teaching doctor touching my bottom and explaining the things they needed to keep a lookout for in patients. Then the fingers opening my buttocks out to look between them. While this is usual, I can not get used to it. The idea of so many women looking so carefully at my bared bottom with my cheeks pulled apart has to be one of the humiliating things imaginable. When they had all had a good look, I then had to stay there as they pulled my knickers up and made sure they were comfortable on me. I could not look at their faces for shame, even though they were all most enthusiastic and thanking me effusively for letting them look.

Like a lot of people who have been through similar things to me, I am fat. That can make getting knickers that fit me a bit difficult in Wales, especially nice ones! So many large ones have been made of cotton as thin as kitchen roll and about as comfortable on. So it seems everyone who knows about my condition is on the look-out for knickers for me. No one has found any for a couple of years now that will do and I am getting a bit short of wearable ones. My wife denies it was her who told one of the newer regular visiting nurses I needed them, so we are unsure if the nurse did because she thought I needed some new ones or not? But even though she is still fairly new, she turned up for a visit with a large plastic carrier bag of ones that looked really good quality and also about the right size for me. The nurse handed them to me saying. "Will these do for you?" from what I can remember.

I must have turned bright red as I took them out of the bag. They were very good quality indeed, nice patterns (bright solid colours and some floral ones), and they did look the right size as well. I wondered where she could have got them from? When I realised they were not new. Perhaps something of that thought came through and showed on my face? Because at the same time she said something like.

"They are not easy to get in your size, not the type you like." (Cotton, full-bum coverers if you must know.) "They are all clean and in good condition, they should be OK for you."

I was so surprised. I was wondering where on earth she got them from when I realised it was a fair guess that they were her own, as she was a similar size to me. But her in floral ones? Can you imagine someone a bit like Hattie Jaques from the "Carry on Doctor" films in floral ones?

"Do they fit you?" said the nurse.

I looked at my wife in shock and noticed that she was trying to stifle her amusement. Nurses have to help people with their bodies every day, but they forget that it is a new experience for the rest of us, and we get embarrassed.

"Try them on..." said my wife the traitor.

The nurse helped me on with them. Having to put them on in front of a nurse that was fairly new to me was very difficult and not helped by my wife who was giggling behind her back as the nurse tried them on me. They did fit, but the odd sensation as she pulled them up and the fabric touched me was worse than it had been for years now. She turned me round as well to look at the back and pronounced them a great fit, as did my wife who was shown them.

I had a lot of thinking afterwards to do about the reaction I had to them? I realise now that since I have had to wear women's knickers since I was a teenager because of my injuries, I have got used to them. They are just everyday wear and they are just "my underwear" now. I no longer think of them as "women's knickers" anymore, at least I do not until someone has to see me in them. Only then do I get bashful and embarrassed all over again. This was VERY different this time however and I realised that it was because they had actually been worn by a woman first. I could not think of these as "mine" as they were not. There was no denying these were women's knickers and they were on me. It was just like being a teenager all over again, I did not want to even move as the feeling of the fabric against my skin was a constant humiliating reminder. My wife even commented how quiet I was and I had to tell her that it was like the early days of me having to wear women's knickers instead, and that I felt newly embarrassed and inhibited all over again. She is now keeping them for "special occasions" when I get a bit too rumbustious she says!

Does anyone else find that ones that have actually been worn by a woman, are FAR more controlling than new pairs are? Being treated like a child again by the nurse trying them on me and showing them to my wife was also remarkably effective at keeping me in check. The following month the same nurse was on the round again and she could not wait to ask how I was finding them. I said they were very comfortable and I was really pleased with the thickness and softness of the cotton. She was delighted at being able to help and told me that next time she comes round, she will have some pyjamas as well that should fit me!


Thank you for your letter Bryn. I'm sure our readers can relate and agree that being given the privilege of wearing the knickers that belonged to someone else can have quite the emotional effect, even embarrassment, though the proper feeling should be simply gratitude. I am sorry to hear however that your health has not improved and I wish you all the best with that struggle. (Last letter published 2/2015)

Auntie Helga

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Letter 8