|my story of transformation|
My first feelings that I wanted to be a girl occurred when I was nine, about when puberty started. I was alone at home watching TV. Mom and dad had recently divorced and mom worked during the day at a city newspaper. I don't remember what show it was, but there was a woman being interviewed by a host. I remember first noticing her red lipstick then her nicely styled brown hair, clothes and overall womanliness. As I became fixated on her the sensation rose up in me that I wanted to look like her. It was a warm feelingexciting and irresistible!
Going into mom's bedroom, I started going through her dresserbras, panties, slipstrying on different things. The warm sensation got more exciting as I slid into the smooth, sensual fabrics. I realized this was my first sexual experience.1 The sensations, the clothes, also had an extremely familiar feeling, as if there was a female person inside me who'd been away for a long time. I made some feeble attempts at putting on her makeup. I remember I did a lousy job! But knew with practice I'd get better.
That was the beginning. Continuing to dress in her clothes, I started taking things. A girdle here, a slip there, hiding them in my closet thinking she wouldn't notice. Of course, she did and thought it was just a phase I was going through (children often experiment with exchanging clothes and gender roles).
The urge would suddenly sweep over me and I'd rush into her bedroom, trembling with excitement. I'd play dress-up and pretend I was a girl until the urge was satisfied.
I gradually acquired a collection of girl's clothes and packed them safely inside my suitcase when we moved to Hawaii a year later. There I continued to dress-up during the day when mom was at work and at night after she'd gone to bed. I'd sneak outside at night, intoxicated by the brisk night air and walk around the neighborhood, running and acting like a girl. Some nights I'd pray to God to change me into a girl.
I'm looking at an old black and white photo of myself when we used to live on a farm in Gilford, MD. I was probably three years old and in a gray metal wash tub with Punkin' (pretty, blonde girl about my age) and a girl from next door. I'm obviously enjoying myself even though there's hardly enough room for the three of us to fit.
Another old photo, Punkin' and I are standing in front of a dresser mirror both brushing our hair and smiling...giggling.
Since I was too embarrassed to buy girl's clothes, I resorted to stealing. I got fairly good at shoplifting clothes from stores. There was a woman in her late 20s, who lived next door. Her name was Marianne and I remember she was an attractive blond who always wanted to kiss me! I used to sneak into her house, take some of her clothes home, try them on and return them. I was 13 at the time and her clothes (I remember she was a size 9) and shoes fit me nicely. One evening I was home alone and the urge struck. It seemed to come out of no where and wasn't related to what I was doing at the moment. I walked over to Marianne's house, but this time instead of taking them home I started dressing in her bedroomthere was something magical about being in a female's bedroom. Putting on her girdle, bra, then a dress and finally a pair of high heels and admired myself in her mirror. I looked good! I had a baby face and slim figure and looked like a girl!
I brazenly decided to go back to my house. I opened her front door and started down her steps just when her boyfriend drove by and saw me! I ran down the steps and around to the back of the house (as fast as I could in heels!) and tried to hide in the empty maid's quarters. He eventually found me, crouched in a corner dressed from head-to-foot in her clothes!
Off to the Head Shrinker! 2
The next morning mom came into my bedroom and said she was taking me to a psychiatrist. I refused, but she threatened to have Marianne's boyfriend come and get me! So I went! She drove me to the hospital, but I wouldn't go inside. Eventually, she went in herself and a short time later her and the psychiatrist came walking out. He got into the driver's side of the car. We talked about school, my interests and hobbies, but when he asked anything about the incident at Marianne's, or my crossdressing, I clammed up. I wasn't going to talk about something so personal to a stranger!
1 Among some, there's the misconception that if you have sexual experiences being a woman you have a fetish, or are really a transvestite or crossdresser. For me, erotic feelings were a component in my transition, but that doesn't mean every transsexual had erotic feelings, nor does it define a transsexual. Women's clothes are softer, often more clingy and made from more sensual fabrics than men's clothing. The debate has intensified with J. Michael Bailey's book, "The Man Who Would be Queen."
2 Head shrinker: Slang for psychiatrist, originated when EST (electro-shock therapy) was thought to shrink the brain.