My Mother's Coat...long
Posted: Fri Aug 20, 2004 6:24 pm
At the age of four, I recall occasionally falling asleep for the night on the couch, only to wake up in a bit of a panic and find that my mother had covered me with her black coat. It was long and made of rough wool, but the nylon lining was soft and it kept me very warm. I can still remember the faint smell of her perfume which made me feel safe and secure as I again fell asleep.
Security was something I longed for as I frequently awoke in the morning to see large bruises on my gentle mother’s face. Her makeup could only mask the most serious blows. Once again had she been beaten by this man after just leaving my father for doing as much. I recall hearing her fighting with him and fearing greatly for her safety. I felt terribly inadequate, being too small to save her from his violence. Occasionally, she would leave him late at night holding my hand as we walked down the road, but she was always persuaded by his promises and returned to him. I wanted to keep going. Early on I learned to hate men and vowed never to use my physical stature to press my will.
Not long after, while driving with my mother in her car nicknamed “old blue”, I recall listening to a sensational radio report about a man who became a woman. I was shocked that sex/gender could be altered. At the age of seven, I knew what decision I would make if given the choice.
Eventually, she met a very honourable German fellow whom I now consider my father. Always a man of good intentions, he sought to “strengthen” and “toughen up” this boy who was too “soft “ having lived in a home with his mother and two sisters. He immediately got me active in physical sports, and when I reached the age of 11, he took away most of my clothes and had my long hair cut very short. This also effectively stopped me from using a blow dryer to style my hair. When I protested, he rhetorically asked whether I was also going to use lipstick and eye shadow (little did he know eh?). Crying was simply NOT tolerated under any circumstances; only displays of anger were understood if vigorously controlled. Self-discipline was taught to be the most important characteristic/virtue one could possess.
During these years, I had to carefully hide my dressing but it waned anyways because his efforts met with considerable success. At a relatively young age, I grew quite tall and very muscular. I ran, cycled, wrestled and weight trained so vigorously that I created stretch marks on my chest and legs. In hockey, my coach frequently rebuked me for keeping a tally of the players I had hurt so badly that they required medical attention. I broke my promise to myself.
It was only when I was on my own that I realized just how much I had deviated from my true nature and my dressing became more frequent. In fact, I once garnered the strength to take a few steps from my home while completely dressed. It was exhilarating! In a tearful conversation, I even told my mother and she said that I would be beautiful no matter what sex/gender I chose to present.
Eventually at 28 years of age, I met a smiley 27 year old Scottish-Canadian gal, just under 6' tall, large blue eyes, long legs (especially in heels which she often wore) and fair skin. I told her about my CDing, but she thought it a trivial matter. In fact, she picked out clothing for me and showed me how to do makeup properly. She intuitively understood the beauty of CDing. Tragically, her cancer returned with a vengeance and lead to palliative care. Counsellors believed that she was suffering needlessly and required “permission” to pass away so they suggested that I give her such permission. I did so by telling her about an agreement I had struck with her parents to care for her daughter. This was REALLY important to her because she had been mistreated (sexually) by her mother’s former partner. Not surprisingly, she hated her mother (and especially her “mum’s” compliance in the matter). I told my love that she could rest and that I promised to take care of everything. Three hours later, she slipped. I will never forget stoically smoking a cigarette under that dark, rainy, night sky.
Not long after, however, the deal was off! Her parents angrily told me that I would not be caring for her child as they had found out I enjoyed wearing women’s clothing. They accused me of being a potential child abuser. I appealed vigorously to the contrary, but to no avail. I even hired a lawyer who told me that I had no legal standing due to the fact that my (common-law) wife and I had insufficient time and funds for me to legally adopt her baby.
Consequently, I have felt enormous guilt about my CDing no matter how hard I try to recognize that it was their prejudice that caused this mishap. Sometimes I feel as though my own whimsical pleasures unintentionally led to the betrayal of the one I loved so much. I made her a promise that she could literally take to the grave and I felt/feel as though I have not delivered. For a few years, I worked two rewarding jobs and made considerable money, only to get extremely drunk at night and cry myself to sleep over my weakness and betrayal. Even after counselling, only time has really lessened the guilt.
A happy ending and future awaits those patient enough to consider this story. I now live with an absolutely wonderful woman who is outwardly and inwardly astonishingly beautiful. She is thoughtful, funny and extremely ambitious. Despite her small frame, she is also very strong willed. Even though she is only in her mid 20's and I in my mid-30's, she completely accepts me for who I truly am. She is also very protective of me, but I like that. I am very fortunate.
Security was something I longed for as I frequently awoke in the morning to see large bruises on my gentle mother’s face. Her makeup could only mask the most serious blows. Once again had she been beaten by this man after just leaving my father for doing as much. I recall hearing her fighting with him and fearing greatly for her safety. I felt terribly inadequate, being too small to save her from his violence. Occasionally, she would leave him late at night holding my hand as we walked down the road, but she was always persuaded by his promises and returned to him. I wanted to keep going. Early on I learned to hate men and vowed never to use my physical stature to press my will.
Not long after, while driving with my mother in her car nicknamed “old blue”, I recall listening to a sensational radio report about a man who became a woman. I was shocked that sex/gender could be altered. At the age of seven, I knew what decision I would make if given the choice.
Eventually, she met a very honourable German fellow whom I now consider my father. Always a man of good intentions, he sought to “strengthen” and “toughen up” this boy who was too “soft “ having lived in a home with his mother and two sisters. He immediately got me active in physical sports, and when I reached the age of 11, he took away most of my clothes and had my long hair cut very short. This also effectively stopped me from using a blow dryer to style my hair. When I protested, he rhetorically asked whether I was also going to use lipstick and eye shadow (little did he know eh?). Crying was simply NOT tolerated under any circumstances; only displays of anger were understood if vigorously controlled. Self-discipline was taught to be the most important characteristic/virtue one could possess.
During these years, I had to carefully hide my dressing but it waned anyways because his efforts met with considerable success. At a relatively young age, I grew quite tall and very muscular. I ran, cycled, wrestled and weight trained so vigorously that I created stretch marks on my chest and legs. In hockey, my coach frequently rebuked me for keeping a tally of the players I had hurt so badly that they required medical attention. I broke my promise to myself.
It was only when I was on my own that I realized just how much I had deviated from my true nature and my dressing became more frequent. In fact, I once garnered the strength to take a few steps from my home while completely dressed. It was exhilarating! In a tearful conversation, I even told my mother and she said that I would be beautiful no matter what sex/gender I chose to present.
Eventually at 28 years of age, I met a smiley 27 year old Scottish-Canadian gal, just under 6' tall, large blue eyes, long legs (especially in heels which she often wore) and fair skin. I told her about my CDing, but she thought it a trivial matter. In fact, she picked out clothing for me and showed me how to do makeup properly. She intuitively understood the beauty of CDing. Tragically, her cancer returned with a vengeance and lead to palliative care. Counsellors believed that she was suffering needlessly and required “permission” to pass away so they suggested that I give her such permission. I did so by telling her about an agreement I had struck with her parents to care for her daughter. This was REALLY important to her because she had been mistreated (sexually) by her mother’s former partner. Not surprisingly, she hated her mother (and especially her “mum’s” compliance in the matter). I told my love that she could rest and that I promised to take care of everything. Three hours later, she slipped. I will never forget stoically smoking a cigarette under that dark, rainy, night sky.
Not long after, however, the deal was off! Her parents angrily told me that I would not be caring for her child as they had found out I enjoyed wearing women’s clothing. They accused me of being a potential child abuser. I appealed vigorously to the contrary, but to no avail. I even hired a lawyer who told me that I had no legal standing due to the fact that my (common-law) wife and I had insufficient time and funds for me to legally adopt her baby.
Consequently, I have felt enormous guilt about my CDing no matter how hard I try to recognize that it was their prejudice that caused this mishap. Sometimes I feel as though my own whimsical pleasures unintentionally led to the betrayal of the one I loved so much. I made her a promise that she could literally take to the grave and I felt/feel as though I have not delivered. For a few years, I worked two rewarding jobs and made considerable money, only to get extremely drunk at night and cry myself to sleep over my weakness and betrayal. Even after counselling, only time has really lessened the guilt.
A happy ending and future awaits those patient enough to consider this story. I now live with an absolutely wonderful woman who is outwardly and inwardly astonishingly beautiful. She is thoughtful, funny and extremely ambitious. Despite her small frame, she is also very strong willed. Even though she is only in her mid 20's and I in my mid-30's, she completely accepts me for who I truly am. She is also very protective of me, but I like that. I am very fortunate.
You are so beautiful.
