I.  The Early Years

I include my story mainly for others who might be "surfing" for signs of an identity similar to their own. I know reading many stories on the 'Net was of great comfort to me. Despite the fact transgendered persons may not be exactly "mainstream" in society, it does not mean that we are not "normal"!   Additionally, I think writing and publishing my own story also helps me to understand who I am.

I was born in into a typically large Irish family...I am one of six children; three girls...two boys (and one in-between!).

My first experience cross dressing came at about 4 years old.   I was upstairs in my room where I was supposed to be taking my usual afternoon nap. Instead of napping, I was drawn to my sisters room where I found and put on a pair of my sister's panties! For some reason it felt wonderful to wear them. It was obviously not sexual  at that age, it just felt...well, right. Unfortunately, out of nowhere came my mother and I was caught!  I don't remember what happened exactly but I definitely got the idea from Mom that I shouldn't be doing such things.   I don't think Mom was mean about it or anything...but I got the idea!

I am not sure if the fascination with feminine clothing continued because I wasn't suppose to wear them but I don't think so. All my life, I was drawn to woman's clothing and things.  Somehow I felt more complete and at peace when I wore feminine clothes.

I don't remember any other specific occasions of cross dressing until I was about ten although therapy in later years indicate it was ongoing.  By age 10, my other sisters had been born and there were females (and their clothes) everywhere in the house! I was a pretty slight and sickly kid growing up (I have had "Last Rights" three times in my human career!) so I found myself home frequently with all my siblings in school.

Occasionally, when I was well enough to be left alone, my mother would leave the house on errands and then I was off to sisters' closets!  My older sister was just getting into training bra's at that time and I quickly got into training myself!   I would get dressed in underwear, skirt and blouse then spend my alone time playing as a "grown-up" girl.  Not wanting a repeat of the last time I got caught, I was very careful to put things back exactly as I had found them.  My sisters were all pretty messy so this usually wasn't a real hard task!

As time went on I found my mother had even more exciting stuff! She had a closet full of dresses including beautiful evening wear which I loved to play dress-up in. I loved the feeling of silk and nylon on my skin and the rustle of the fabric as I walked about the house. I pretended I was a girl until it was time for Mom to come home then sorrowfully take everything off and put it away. There were a few times Mom came home early and I had race to get everything off and away...seconds counted so this didn't help my already developing anxiety complex! I can still remember my heart racing when she would walk in the door!

As time went on, I dressed more and more completely including some limited makeup. Later I even found a pageboy style wig my mother had had tucked off into the back of our front hallway closet. I was SO excited when I found it since my hair was always kept pretty short growing up. I could now dress completely as a young woman!   In retrospect, since I never saw ANYONE in the family with that wig, I always wondered if Mom put it there for me.  I suspect new she knew about my needs and desires.

My dressing continued on and off into my early teens. My very slight build was such that I could perfectly fit my sister's clothes.  I probably really did look like a young girl when I dressed (although most of the clothes I wore were much too "old" for me in style).  I never really dressed up partly in just one piece of feminine clothing. I always wanted to look perfectly like a girl and so I worked to complete the illusion every time I dressed.  I didn't want to look in the mirror until I was at a stage where my masculine facade had faded at least to the point of androgyny. This is still true today although sometimes I do wear nylons and panties sometimes under my DRAB clothes. It is a nice sensual reminder of who I am.

Anyway, I always felt as though there was something wrong with me growing up. I can't remember how many times I said to myself..."OK, this is the LAST time I will do this" only to say it again a few days, weeks or months down the road. I remember at the age of about 15 I found my sister's old prom dress stored away in the basement. It was a blue taffeta strapless long dress and I thought was beautiful. I wore it many times One afternoon I was in the basement dressed in it with my wig on and face made up and I heard someone coming down stairs. I rushed to hide and found a place wedged between some sheets of plywood. It was my brother who had come to the basement to sneak a cigarette.

When he got downstairs he called my name to check to see if I was in the basement. I crouched holding my breath thinking "please God, don't let him find me...I promise...if you help me not be discovered, I will never dress again". Well, my brother had his smoke and left. Needless to say, I didn't keep my promise to God.   I felt bad about that for years but somehow I just couldn't help it (and I DO think God...if no one else would understand!)

As time went on, I was painfully aware that I was becoming less girlish by the minute as puberty struck. I remember getting the first few facial hairs and hated it because I knew it would somehow mean I would be thrust more deeply into manhood than I wanted. My older brother was always proud at the fact that he was beginning to need to shave every few days. I hated the idea because I knew what it meant for me. I didn't shave even though the hairs on my face got longer because I had heard that shaving made the hairs grow in darker and courser. One day I was going by the open bathroom door while my father was shaving with his electric razor. Without a word, he grabbed me and roughly ran the shaver all over my face removing the adolescent stubble.  I felt violated. I went to the basement and cried all afternoon.

For some reason I didn't dress for a few years from the time I was about 16. I guess I thought "it" had gone away or perhaps the testosterone cursing through my veins reduced my desire to assume my feminine identity. I had become something of a "man about town" at that age and was considered to be a "tough guy". I was very small but I was very fast. I had a few fist fights with bigger (and slower) kids and won because I could get off 5 punches before whatever Neanderthal I was up against could get one off  (If they had they would have killed me!).

After that, the "rep" followed me and like a "Fonzy" never had to seriously fight again because the other guys all backed down.  I just asserted myself and it worked (I was always amazed). Little do they know, I thought.

My amiable ways allowed me be part of several "clicks" in school.  Regardless of my rep, I was a shy and soft-spoken guy,  but in each click I did what I had to do to get along. Whether it was the "Hoods" the "Jocks" or the "Nerds" I was able to float seamlessly between all the groups. I also started a successful Rock & Roll Band during this time.

It sort of bothered me but the girls never called me "handsome". They always seem to use the description "cute" (in a positive way) to describe me. I guess was I reasonably sought after by the girls.  I was considered to have a "great  personality". Looking back, I think the girls liked me because of some unspoken kinship.  I was, and still am caring and emotional. I always called it "my feminine" side but I suppose it is truly just who I am.