I cannot remember a time when I wasn't fascinated by the secret allure of women and their beautiful clothes. The first time I remember wearing anything was at my cousin's house. She was a teenager, babysitting me at her parents' house. We were in the bedroom, where she was putting on her coat, in order to drive me home. A gold, silk kerchief, lying on the bed caught my eye. In spite of her standing right next to me I couldn't restrain myself from reaching out to feel it. It was a low bed, knee high to an adult, but up to my armpits, so I had to stretch for the kerchief. That's how small I was. My cousin, seeing me do it, picked up the kerchief and put it on me. Her exact words were "oh, precious...." She always said that, even to her cat. She then picked me up and carried me out to the living room, to show me to her three girlfriends, who were waiting for her on the sofa. I was embarrassed.
She tried to get me to wear it home " to show my mother". I knew I wanted to do it. I knew it was dark and no one would see me. But I realized my brother and grandfather would be at home, and they would see me too. I said no. I wanted to wear it, but I said "No." I knew there would be consequences. Even at that young age; 4, maybe 5 I was already thinking like a closet transvestite.
I am a vessel of the Goddess. Let me express my calling to a feminine life through nurturing love and relatedness.
but it does make a good hiding place when you need it 
