Hi Everyone
Posted: Mon Nov 03, 2008 10:54 am
Hi. I'm Erin, and I'm in my fifties. I first started dressing when I was five, sneaking into our attic on Saturday mornings to try on my mother's crinolines. I loved the way they flared out away from my legs. When I went to school - parochial school, where the girls wore uniforms - I was constantly enthralled with what the girls wore, especially their shoes (mary janes or saddle shoes).
My father was an alcoholic, and when I was 11, he started going to AA meetings once a week. My mother would go with him, and that gave me a chance to try on more of my mother's clothes. It was still rather innocent at that point (although in school, we had a nun who threatened the boys, if we misbehaved, with being forced to wear a girl's uniform for a day; I got in lots of trouble that year, but she never carried out her threat).
When I was 13, we moved to a new neighborhood where I didn't know anyone. Both my parents worked by then, so I had all day, every day, to myself. The first morning I decided to dress after they had both left for work, I made a startling discovery - Mom's clothes and shoes fit!! She had a gorgeous black cocktail dress with a full skirt and crinoline and spaghetti straps that fit me like a glove, and I would dress in that and her stockings and 3" spike heels (lovely black suede pumps), and just feel gorgeous.
A year later, when my parents would go out at night, I would sometimes dress up, put on makeup, and venture out for a little walk. No one ever caught me, but I loved the sensation of the cool night air on my stockinged legs.
My father caught me one Sunday afternoon, coming back to the house after he and my mother had left for an outing of some sort. I could tell he was working real hard to be all understanding, and nothing much was made of it, as long as I promised to stop. So, I promised. When he caught me a second time, it got very, very ugly, and I stopped dressing for a while out of fear.
He died when I was 15, and I started to acquire a small stash of clothing, mostly by raiding the laundry room of a nearby apartment building. We had moved in with my grandmother's house by then, so the only time I could dress was in my room late at night.
After I got married, I would sometimes try my wife's clothes on when she wasn't around. But after a while, I gave this up for fear of being caught. I would dress intermittently for years after that. Finally, a few years ago, I went through something of an emotional crisis, and I needed to start dressing again. I now have a job that allows me to work from home from time to time, so that was the perfect opportunity. I rented a PO box and began to buy femme clothes for myself online. I had several old brief cases and valises in my closet where I kept everything hidden, including a wig and breast forms. After about 9 months of constantly looking for opportunities to dress, I decided to purge, and I had gone a couple of years without dressing, until recently I began again, once again wearing my wife's clothes.
So, that's me.
My father was an alcoholic, and when I was 11, he started going to AA meetings once a week. My mother would go with him, and that gave me a chance to try on more of my mother's clothes. It was still rather innocent at that point (although in school, we had a nun who threatened the boys, if we misbehaved, with being forced to wear a girl's uniform for a day; I got in lots of trouble that year, but she never carried out her threat).
When I was 13, we moved to a new neighborhood where I didn't know anyone. Both my parents worked by then, so I had all day, every day, to myself. The first morning I decided to dress after they had both left for work, I made a startling discovery - Mom's clothes and shoes fit!! She had a gorgeous black cocktail dress with a full skirt and crinoline and spaghetti straps that fit me like a glove, and I would dress in that and her stockings and 3" spike heels (lovely black suede pumps), and just feel gorgeous.
A year later, when my parents would go out at night, I would sometimes dress up, put on makeup, and venture out for a little walk. No one ever caught me, but I loved the sensation of the cool night air on my stockinged legs.
My father caught me one Sunday afternoon, coming back to the house after he and my mother had left for an outing of some sort. I could tell he was working real hard to be all understanding, and nothing much was made of it, as long as I promised to stop. So, I promised. When he caught me a second time, it got very, very ugly, and I stopped dressing for a while out of fear.
He died when I was 15, and I started to acquire a small stash of clothing, mostly by raiding the laundry room of a nearby apartment building. We had moved in with my grandmother's house by then, so the only time I could dress was in my room late at night.
After I got married, I would sometimes try my wife's clothes on when she wasn't around. But after a while, I gave this up for fear of being caught. I would dress intermittently for years after that. Finally, a few years ago, I went through something of an emotional crisis, and I needed to start dressing again. I now have a job that allows me to work from home from time to time, so that was the perfect opportunity. I rented a PO box and began to buy femme clothes for myself online. I had several old brief cases and valises in my closet where I kept everything hidden, including a wig and breast forms. After about 9 months of constantly looking for opportunities to dress, I decided to purge, and I had gone a couple of years without dressing, until recently I began again, once again wearing my wife's clothes.
So, that's me.
to the forum.
