Good morning ladies, I tossed and turned quite a bit last night. Lots of thoughts racing through my head, one that I kept coming back to was I needed to jot down some words about the good and/or exhilarating moments of my self discovery. So far my story has been one of the not-so-good. Yeah, maybe I am procrastinating and avoiding the post nuptial Chapter. Whatever. In any case, here it goes.
Chapter 4
Looking back at my early teen years and those moments of self discovery I must allow myself to laugh at some things, shake my fist at the cosmos for other things, cringe at a few, and finally hold dear some truly beautiful moments of self discovery.
I guess to get this party started, let's get right to laughter part. I mean, I can laugh now but at the time this was some deeply serious stuff. Total soul searching. During all those moments where I was exploring my desires through dressing I was wrestling with what it all meant. Why am I so drawn to women's clothing, what is this all about? The word Transgender was not a part of my vocabulary. What was a part of my vocabulary was the word "crossdresser".
OMG, is that what I am? Society had taught me that crossdressers were a deviant mix of néer do wells whose mere existence would bring the collapse of polite society or at a minimum, spread Venereal Disease. That's right, VD. How do I know this? Because I just got done watching "the" SEX film in Health Class.
Come on, some of you remember this.. The school would send home permission slips, once signed they would divide the boys and the girls into different rooms and show, presumably, the same film to each gender. Pretty much a vain attempt to stave off free love, teen pregnancy, and the spread of a disease that was the hallmark of the unwashed masses.
What I took home from this experience was 1) I wonder if the girls watched the same film? 2) VD was spread by people that engaged in naughty behavior and my recent desires were clearly in the naughty column. In my little brain, it was just a matter of time before I gave myself VD.
Oh wow, that little jaunt down memory lane is hilarious but in my defense, I was young, I was terrified of these feelings, and okay, I was not the sharpest tack in the box.
Anyway, I found myself at an existential crossroads. I could define my activities in one of two ways. I could label myself as a "crossdresser" which would certainly mean a life living in the gutter plagued with painful urination or... I could simply accept that I had a sexual fetish. That seemed to add up. I mean, my raging hormones sexualized everything. Seriously, everything.. Shoot, a vaguely well timed episode of Judge Judy would do it for me but I digress.
Don't get me wrong, I wrestled with the fetish label too. Thinking back to what I saw on the Phil Donahue Show, people with fetishes were definitely in the same zip code as the crossdressers. But it still seemed the lesser of the two evils. Looking back and laughing, I'd say I laid a pretty solid foundation of denial. Nice work for a young teenager!
Fate, or the humor of the cosmos, also had a hand in my confusion and torment. Maybe torment is a strong word, perhaps looking back the cosmos was simply trying to nudge me in the direction of more self discovery. However labeled, it seemed I was frequently at the right places at the right time to keep my feminine feelings at the front and center.
Here's one vivid experience I will forever recall.. I was walking along the road not far from home and I stumbled across an adult magazine that someone had discarded, it was one of those adult magazines that featured explicit stories. To add complexity my life, the universe found it humorous to make this magazine the "feminization" issue. Seriously. Page after page, story after story. It was treasure trove of literary masterpieces in which loving partners transformed their husbands and boyfriends into beautiful women.
"What the French Toast" universe! I had just recently compartmentalized my "hobby" as a fetish and now this? Really? They repeatedly used the word "crossdresser" too! Oh God, I knew I was doomed. I was going to be cast aside by society AND I was getting VD for sure.
One more experience that added fuel to the fire. This was a time when my mom seemed to be rediscovering her love for shopping at the local mall, she and I have always had a very close relationship so she would bring me along for company. It did not matter where we parked, it did not matter what store we walked into, we would ALWAYS walk directly into or past the lingerie section. Every store, every time. All day long I would come face to face with rack after rack of the prettiest bras and panties available. Heck, this even happened in stores that did not typically sell women's wear! Much less lingerie! I was once again doomed.
I did not really realize it at the time, I guess looking back I do now. The universe WAS nudging me toward a beautiful moment of self discovery. As my mind quieted, as my hormones settled, I was able to experience what I now know as moments of affirmation. I remember my first time putting on women's underwear when my mind was not clouded with fear or hyper sexualization. It was a moment of exquisite clarity . The house was empty and I had plenty of privacy. Taking my time, I carefully entered a family member's room, opened her dresser and selected the most feminine pair of panties she owned. They were silky nylon trimmed with lace in a beautiful pastel peach color. Stepping into the garment I did not feel fear nor did I feel arousal. Instead, I felt pretty, I felt normal, I felt complete. At that moment in time, I knew without hesitation, that I did not have a fetish. There was something to this and I needed to figure it out.