s of crossdressing. My mother had laid out Halloween costumes for my older brother and me. We didn't have a lot of money in those days, so she had put together gypsy costumes for the two of us out of her scarves and things. I protested as mightily as a three-year-old could that I didn't want to be the girl gypsy, but it was a very small and very unhappy gypsy girl that accompanied my brother to the Halloween parade. (Ironically, although my mom started me on this path, my parents are among the very few that do not know about Brittany. Someday, maybe.)
I can remember as young as 6, seeing a boy dressed as a girl in a play and being fascinated and envious. As I grew older, I looked everywhere for hints of crossdressing. I collected comics that had crossgendered characters (a topic of a future column). I weekly scoured the TV Guide for talk shows or comedies that would perhaps have a crossdressing reference. I volunteered to mow the lawn because it gave me uninterrupted hours to fantasize about impersonating a female. For safety, or whatever reason, I never touched anything of my mother's. But that didn't stop me when I was home alone from trying to create a feminine appearance with a long t-shirt dress and nerfball breasts. As I grew into adolescence my appreciation for the female sex had an added dimension. When a pal thought it was cool that I was checking out a babe's chest, I didn't tell him that I was trying to see how her bra fit.
However, my crossdressing interest produced an incredible amount of guilt. Although I had no clothes, I purged numerous times. I was caught dressing once in junior high, but the friend had no idea what I was really doing. I knew that my interest was unacceptable to society, impossible to pursue, and apparently condemned by the Bible. I abandoned my interest a thousand times, only to find it returning irresistibly.
This ambivalent attitude continued into my adult life, and it was compounded by the belief that I could never dress for real anyway. After all, I was 6'4", with plenty of body hair, and a masculine face.
Then I found the internet. I had spent several months on another chat service as a female and found fulfillment as I had never dreamed possible. Then on AOL I met a couple of T's in my area and with their encouragement had my first makeover.
I was stunned. I actually looked kind of cute. It was over a year before I was able to try again. In that time, I found a wonderful SO who is very accepting in spite of her reservations. I had another full makeover for last Halloween and won a trophy for most outrageous costume. I've even started performing regularly at a couple of places locally.
Do I still feel guilty? No. Sometimes I realize that my life would be much simpler if I wasn't a T. But I realize now that Brittany is a very real and necessary part of me, and to lose her would be to lose part of who I really am.