So I found myself going through boxes and boxes and more boxes (I'm a pack rat too, must run in the genes) and tossing things in the trash or in other boxes.
I came across a old nylon? nighty of my mom's. Probably from when she was little (at 5'2" she still is
), er younger. Don't know what it was, but I was moved to put it on. Back then I mostly ran around in only short pants, so on it went and it felt good on my skin.I left it on and dove into the box find several more things, especially a peasant blouse and black skirt that went well together. These items all ended upstairs, inbetween the matress and matress cover (slick hiding place eh?
)When no one was home I'd put on the blouse and skirt, go out back and get on the swing. I had this dare-devil streak in me and would do things that tempted fate of getting caught. Out behind the house, I couldn't see if anyone was coming home, had 4 brothers, so anyone could show up at any time. The swing could be seen from the back of the neighbors houses.
Went so far as to put a 14" knife in the ground, point up, and lept from the swing over the knife.
Ahh, the adreniline rush
Another dumb thing I would do, I delivered the morning paper and would take something off of a clothes line, usually a slip, and put it on, deliver a few more papers on that street, then return to hang it back in place.I progressed on to my mother's closet and dresser, which led to full dress up sessions.
I used to take the pull off the zipper of some of the tighter fitting dresses (procured from the bags going to the church), once I had it zipped up, on the chance that couldn't get out of it without help.
But I became quite the escape artist when push came to shove.At times, I would even sneak into her room, put on a bra (no top) and sneak back out to the kitchen or dining room, and peak into the living room to see what my mother was doing. She caught me once, and loudly told me to take it off. The question of why didn't come up until that evening when my dad was home. I might have had an answer for them if my brothers hadn't been in ear shot.
I gave no answer, and the question was never asked again. Even after she found my stash of her clothes. Luckily, my parents never thought any the worse of me.
I couldn't even put the CDing aside when I went into the Army, and usually managed to find the time/opportunity when home on leave.
Got married while in the Army. My new bride made comments about my hairy legs itching her, and threatened to shave my legs. I dared her and one night she did. This led to putting on a pair of her pantyhose (can't remeber if it was a dare on her part or not, but I think it was). She liked the feel of my legs then. This progressed to dressing further, including makeup and a wig of hers. I looked so good, I think it scared her, especially when I tried to get her to take me shopping.
All this led to my telling her I was a transvestite. She didn't know what that was, so looked it up in the dictionary sometime later. When she saw the term "homosexuality" in the definition, the crap hit the fan. After I had managed to dissuade her of her thinking that I was gay, things seemed to go alright. Ups and downs existed of course, as she had that word in the back of her mind.
There have been ups and downs with my CDing over the last 29 years of our marriage, but we manage to work them out. Most are due to my pushing
the boundries she has set (See my into post).
)
It totally makes people think of something dirty or wrong. Transsexuals have done an awesome job of letting the public know what they are, but the word transvestite (from my memory) really came into being in the 70s and never really did any good. I just remember images that went with transvestite and they were always so icky. So I can understand why your wife freaked. 
29 years of up and downs sounds normal anyway with marriage. 
