Just write your true story about the first time you knew you were transgender or some other important "first" in your life as a transgender person. Email it to Cindy. Cynthia Smith edits the stories and will be in contact with you. Drop us a line!
They put me in my mother's raincoat and tied me up. All at once, I felt, so secure, comfortableand stimulated, I couldn't believe it. The coat was a very soft silky purple thing, fully lined. I wentback to it, quite often, immediately after that. Slowly I started looking for other things of mymothers to wear, trying to get the warmth and security I didn't feel I was getting anywhere else.
Well to my "good" fortune I discovered, in a storage closet in my room, a big box. Whichcontained fancy bras, regular and longline girdles and such, that must have been my mother's whenshe was younger. They felt great and fit so very nice, and comforting. I started padding the brasalmost right away, socks usually.
I was first caught, when I was around 13, I believe. I used to go to my sisters room and under theexcuse of needing privacy to do my homework, would lock the door and dress up. Well this time Ididn't latch it securely and my sister walked in on me. PANIC! I jumped to the floor behind herbed and started yelling for her to leave, attracting the rest of the family. They finally left the roomas I was quite hysterical, and I took off the clothes and went to accept the consequences.
I promised never to do it again and blamed my experimenting with glue sniffing (this was around1965) on my going crazy and being "called" to put on the clothes. I think they believed me, whoknows for sure. My father actually shocked me by saying that it was just a phase and he haddressed in his mother's clothes when he was about my age also. I always wondered and have nevertalked plainly with him about it, probably never will.
My father was quite explosive and often used the word sissy in trying to discipline us. Once Iremember quite clearly. I was around 11 or so: We were eating dinner and I didn't want to eat myveggies (lima beans I think, still don't like them) and my father started getting mad and yelled at me"what are you some kind of sissy, EAT YOUR BEANS!". I said NO and got up from the tableand came after me. I ran upstairs and locked myself in the bathroom. He started smashing on thedoor "COME OUT HERE. YOU LITTLE SISSY, TAKE THIS LIKE A MAN." All I could dowas try to decide whether or not I should go out the window and run away or just sit there.
I stayed and he went and got a crowbar and ripped the door off the hinges. He finally got controlof himself enough not hit me. I remember my mom yelling in the background, don't hit him in thehead, don't hit him in the head. I got out of the bathroom and was sent to bed. I remember lyingthere wishing I could turn into a little girl so they would love and treat me better. However, as Ilook back on it today, it's obvious that even if I did turn into a girl it wouldn't have been any better.My sister didn't fair much better.
I started dressing again, several months later, and successfully hid it for the next seven years. Iwould often dress when I was home sick from school. I stayed under the covers with my motherbringing me food and things, with her never guessing how I looked under the sheets. I becamevery driven to dress, whenever I was sick, perhaps subconsciously believing it would help me getwell. I still get those feelings today (I'm now 43).
Another interesting thing about my family, which I believe played a part in my developing thisfeminine self. Involved the general lack of the use of the word and exhibiting of "love." Iremember going to my friend George's house and hearing the word being used often in theirregular conversations. I was amazed and around 10 at the time. I went home and asked myparents about it and my dad said that they loved us but that they showed it in different ways. Iremember feeling that the feelings I got while dressing must be what my friend's family must begiving to each other (warmth, security.....)
I'm over 40 now and we're now up to saying it on the phone, and in person a couple times a year. I shake hands with my dad when they leave for Florida and when they return. My mother nevermuch held or kissed us when we were little, and now she wants me to whenever we see them, it's alittle awkward. Well, for the moment.
I think I'll stop here. My whole story would be a bit too long to tell, right now. Perhaps I'll have towrite a few more chapters, for there are lots of interesting adventures and stories to tell. Forgeneral information, if anyone cares to know, I've gotten myself to the following measurements: 5'10" 1/2" 155lbs, on the small side of a 36Cgiving a 39 full measurement, waist 28, hips 41 1/2. Please write if you'd like to correspond. I'm particularly interested in conversing withunderstanding gg's
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