One of my earliest memories is of being in Mom's nightgown, but I wasn't trying to dress as a female. I was five, I think. I came home from preschool around lunchtime, and Mom had me take a nap on the day bed in "the other room" (a room off the living room that in older days had been a screened porch, later enclosed). I was fascinated by science in those days, and I'd seen a lot of stuff about butterflies. I loved the idea of the caterpillar weaving a chrysalis around itself. then changing into a butterfly. Mom had a thin nylon nightgown, kind of a pale gold color, that was translucent (up close you could see through it). I used to crawl inside it, bundling the ends under my head and feet. Mom found me that way and went through the roof. I didn't get in trouble, per se, but Mom gave me funny looks for a long time after.
Flash forward to age 7-8. I saw a female impersonator on a talk show, Merv Griffin or the like. I don't remember the performer's name, but something about the idea of a man dressing as a woman captured my attention. I used to look for it in whatever I saw on tv. I only watched. I wasn't interested in wearing anything, yet.
At age 9 I was finally considered old enough to bathe myself. I would take looong hot showers. I remember going to the bathroom one evening and finding Mom's underwear - a bra, panties and knee-highs on the hamper. It was like seeing them for the first time. I just had to put them on, just to see what it was like. I stepped into the panties, wrestled with the bra, and pulled on the stockings. I remember that they were long enough to reach over my knees, like the ones I had seen in a movie. Then Mom burst into the bathroom. She thought something was wrong, and wanted to know what was taking so long.
Thus began a cycle of counseling that lasted through my teens. Mom thought I was "turning gay" and wanted a doctor that could stop it. I barely understood the concept of homosexual, but I was supposed to be cured of something I didn't understand myself. I didn't dress much in this period, though as puberty started, I found myself, for a time, to be nearly Mom's size, so all her clothes old and new, fit me.
I wasn't masturbating, but one of my doctors tried to convince Mom it was a fetishistic masturbation thing. After a while, the whole issue disappeared under the rest of my teen angst or whatever.
The feelings resurfaced at 21, after I moved away from home. I was hanging out with a pretty open-minded group, so I came out to some of my friends. They were cool about it, and some encouraged me. I even landed a part-time gig modeling lingerie for a friend who sold Undercover Wear. Wish that had lasted
. All that time I was dressing up, I never got completely into drag, and I never went out in public.Enter my SO-to be. Diana is a very special person. We started out as friends, and grew to be more. I wanted to be open about things, but there was a caveat: Diana was married before, and her first hubby crossdressed and abused her.
I was ready to pull out of her life all together, just to avoid hurting her. She wouldn't have it. She made me tell her what was wrong. When I told her, she said, "Is that all?"Diana was just what I seemed to need at that point in my life. She taught me all about clothes, hair and makeup. She decided to make me her summer project. She would teach me all about being a woman, and Halloween would be the final exam. The results can be found in my new member post.
Halloween led to doing drag shows. They were fun for a while, but got to be (I won't say 'a drag') more trouble than they were worth. The 'extra' money I was making got spent on upkeep of my drag persona. My relationship with Diana was getting serious, and drag took me away from her, though she stayed by me for a time at the beginning. In a way, I think she was jealous of me. At first, she had picked out my outfits, did my hair and makeup, and coached my performances. As time wore on, I began to do it all myself, and eventually, if I had to do a show, and she couldn't make it, that was okay. She asked me to stop, and I did.
After we were married, I dressed up a Halloween one year "for old-time's sake". Diana didn't go out with me, and I didn't have fun. I stopped dressing at home. I stopped buying things. We settled into married life, and things were good, for a time.
I won't give you all the gory details. Our marriage broke up over the course of five years, and there were lots of reasons. My dressing up was supposedly a big factor, but since I hadn't done it for most of those five years, I'm not sure how that is. All the fighting and arguing is done. We're simply waiting to file the papers. We've gone our separate ways, and are now happier for it. Part of me wonders how things might've gone had we found a forum like this one earlier in life.
Your story was a great one. You are so open for sharing that experience. It all flowed together so well.
