The following chronicles are the first of a series which highlight how crossdressing has been woven into the threads of my life since my pre-school days.
I guess my story is similar to just about everyone else's. My earliest memory of any desire to participate in the world of femininity was during my pre-school years as I watched my mother as she was getting ready to go out somewhere. She was very pretty and as do most women the final item of makeup she applied was always her lipstick. I almost always tried to get her to put some on me and she would reluctantly just touch the edge of the lipstick to my little lips to satisfy my persistence and stop my begging. My age at that time definitely rules out any relationship between feminine items and sexuality since I was less than 6 years old.
A
few years later I can remember retrieving a discarded dress from the trash and
hiding it under the house we lived in at the time. The house had no basement,
but was built on pilings that made it just high enough that a young person could
almost stand up underneath it and it was underpinned so you couldn't readily see
underneath. I can remember several trips under that house where I would
carefully remove that dress from the box or bag or whatever I had it stored in
and put it on. First over whatever clothes I had on, then later I would take off
what I had on so I would be able to feel the dress against my skin when I had it
on. I can't remember what finally happened to that dress, but I can vividly
remember wearing it and twirling around so it would stand out similar to the way
a square dancing dress does.
My next recollection of anything to do with the wearing of female clothing would be between the ages of 10 and 12 years when my brother and I would spend a couple of weeks each summer with my cousins who lived about 90 miles away.
There were three of them, two boys who were close in age to my brother and I, and a girl who was 3 or 4 years older than the eldest of us. Naturally the similar ages always "buddied up" together and went around doing whatever was interesting to them.
For what the reason, I don't remember, but me and my similarly aged cousin got the idea one day to explore his older sister's room. She was out of town with friends, my brother and the other cousin had gone off exploring in a nearby patch of woods, and my aunt and uncle were both at work. That left the two of us in the house alone.
Now my female cousin (the one who was out of town) had always been pampered with pretty clothes and had been involved in ballet classes for several years. Therefore it was no surprise when we found all of her costumes, tights, and shoes. We took to daring each other to put on this or that or the other until eventually we both had tried on just about everything we could find. We would put on something and then laugh at each other before we changed in to something else and started the whole thing all over again. I still don't know to this day what my cousin's true feelings were about how he felt while he had some of those clothes on and I'm sure he doesn't know mine. And even though I was secretly on cloud nine while we were having our fun, I had not a clue as to why I felt that way. We were both still just below the age where the male hormones start to kick in so here again, this was nothing which was motivated by sexual overtones. As I recall, this was the only time this happened even though I would remember it fondly many times over the years since then.
I can also recall a similar incident when the two of us decided we would like to have curly or wavy hair rather than it being straight like nature gave us. We convinced my aunt and my mother to give us a permanent. My aunt was the type of person who was constantly changing her hair style and color so she was an "old pro" at this and she proceeded to give us both a permanent. Somewhere in either mine or my brother's collection of old family photographs is a black and white picture of the two of us with our hair all in curlers. I can remember secretly savoring that experience as the odor of the chemicals hung in the air and the tightness of the rollers was felt in my hair. To this very day the odors of a fresh permanent cause me to remember that experience.
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