Big Grin,  I got in trouble a lot as a kid for wearing my moms bras, sanitary pads, pantyhose, jeans, tops. As a teen I got caught in my mom's dress a couple times. Got in trouble for shaving my legs a couple times as well using moms razor.

Show of hands, Who also CD'ed and got busted by family?

Lisa

Quote from: Lisa89125 on December 13, 2018, 11:19:08 PM
Big Grin,  I got in trouble a lot as a kid for wearing my moms bras, sanitary pads, pantyhose, jeans, tops. As a teen I got caught in my mom's dress a couple times. Got in trouble for shaving my legs a couple times as well using moms razor.

Show of hands, Who also CD'ed and got busted by family?

Lisa

Yes I got caught as a child 5 or 6 years old. Mum didnt sternly rebuke my curiosity. She even allowed some dressing& makeup & jewellery. As a child I didnt wear skirts or dresses in public but I often had an andrdgynous appearance in the 1970s.

I dressed quite a few times up until age 13 when my friend let me wear her dress at school camp.

My parents and myself went off the idea of my feminine expression as I approached high school.

Ironically now my parents think Im a weirdo when I cross dress at age 49.

Kirsten x.


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I've never been confronted about it, but I suspect that my mother knows I have been cross dressing since forever.

Actually now that I think about it, my mother did catch me putting on lipstick and a red silky blouse one time when I was 3-4 years old. I don't remember much, but I think I took a small beating that time and got yelled at.

It is why I have not yet come out to my family, but soon I will!

I have been dangerously close to being caught multiple times since that incident. I remember I would stay home alone just to cross dress and I would be so happy looking in the mirror, just there alone thinking about what life would be like had I been born female... suddenly I hear the front door opening and I instantly, with cat like reflexes, jump out of the restroom and across the hallway into my room. Mind you the front door stares directly into the hallway, anyways, there I am slamming the door to my room shut and as fast as lightning, struggling, against all odds I'm tearing a dress off and putting on guy clothes. Oh the good times...

Just there dreaming of one day becoming a woman. I never thought it possible, maybe it's not, but I will never stop trying!


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I was never caught doing it but when I was about 12/13 I applied foundation (badly) and forgot to wash it off. My friend's mum seen it and asked and I denied it, said it was dirt, but she must've known I was lying.

That one incident set me back years as I was so socially anxious I dare not do anything else IN CASE I got noticed

As far as I knew never...Until that was I came out to my parents and the very first thing my father said to me after that conversation as we stepped onto the deck to smoke a cigarette....he says to me

"I knew what you were going to to tell me"

I was floored....Circumstances then prevented me from following up on the spot as to what he meant....it took me nearly 12 months to get an answer out of him and then he lied...[emoji26][emoji26]

Did I get caught....oh yes, I think at some point around 5 it became a real issue for them but a simple discussion with me could have clarified that situation...but we are barely talking now so it doesn't matter anymore.

Take care

Liz


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When I was 7 maybe 8 my step dad saw me one time with my moms bra on well that upcoming Christmas one of my gifts under the tree was a matching set of bra and panties and he humiliated me and told me to go put them on and prance around the room (full of about 15 people) like a fairy.

Needless to say I looked good and now he's kicking himself in the ass lol


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Quoteusing moms razor

That's a hanging offence!   

I don't know if my mother ever suspected, but if she did, it was never mentioned.  I used to "borrow" things from my sister and mother, before I was able to buy my own.

Multiple times. It always ended poorly.

The worst was when my mom had painting my two sisters' finger nails, and then not to leave me out put a clear coat on mine. My dad lost it when he got home from work. Both me and my mom were talked to firmly about that.
Do not take at as my mom supporting me...She was the one that caught me in her high heels and my sister's princess dress.

The worst  I can remember was being caught by mom around 12/13 in her stuff and being yield at the top of her lungs. She even called me a freak and said "what are you transgender or something" in a bad way.

Lisa

Caught? Once, when my mom woke briefly (She mumbled something and went back to sleep.  Surprisingly that was that.)

Observed?  Well, I used to spend hours in the bathroom where my sister got ready and dressed.  I wasn't aware of moisturizer or foundation, so I am sure that what I was doing was literally written on my face.

Punished?  Never really.  Looking beyond just dressing, I think that my mother tried to expose me to things that weren't always "masculine" (theater, fine arts) and to guide me away from making choices that would be ridiculed (I remember that she once gently guided me towards notebooks with pictures of cars on the cover and away from the soft focus pictures of horses.  I was a little sad, but I didn't get beat up over it at school.)

My father was somewhat distant.  He may have been avoiding me, but he was quiet to begin with.  He was born in the South almost a century ago, and it was hard enough for him to accept my big sister becoming a hippie.

Quote
...Using moms razor.

Oops!

My sister used my dad's razor once.  They argued a lot, and I am sure that it was a passive-aggressive act!

Surely, almost all trans women were caught in childhood.  Many times, I should think, unless the "culprits" were being very clever.  The only exceptions I could imagine would be if the behaviour was always tolerated (or ignored in the hope that it would go away) so being seen might not count as being caught.  I wasn't one of the clever ones.

Before I was big enough to try on my mother's clothes, my parents, mostly my mother as my father worked long days or worked away, would catch me naked except for my mother's headscarf and sometimes a towel.  Until I was eight, I thought that girls also had willies so I thought that ditching my boy clothes was enough.

When my mother caught me, especially when I was older and wearing her dresses, she was always scathing.  She used the word "sick" a lot but I wasn't sent to a psychiatrist until I was about twenty.   I had soon learned not to wear her make-up as I could never get it off in time but I could never resist using her Eau de Cologne.  On an occasion on which my father caught me hiding in a cupboard, he said nothing to me but I heard him speaking loudly to my mother and hers, who was visiting.

I was regarded as a quiet and harmless individual so I was a popular choice for house-sitting for my family's friends.  While house-sitting, I felt free to live as a woman.  On my first job, I found (yes, it was wrong and I am not proud of it but I was starved of the opportunity to be myself) that the sandals and dresses of the lady of the house fit my size, if not my shape.   Living as a woman, I found it hard to bear wearing my male clothes so I ventured out as a woman and bought my own clothes.  It was quite dangerous, I think.  I can remember raids on cross-dressers in the country in which I was living, as it was equated with homosexuality and a group of more than two cross-dressers was an illegal "homosexual party".  The police were unlikely to be sympathetic if they caught me even by myself.  There was a common but possibly erroneous belief that "impersonating a woman" was illegal.   I was recognised by friends of my mother, though and she said that she despised me. 

My mother caught me only once while house-sitting.  I didn't lock the front or back doors when I had a shower, as I thought that the dogs would alert me to visitors.  They recognised her, though and didn't make a sound.  I wore children's make-up as it comes off easily, so when I heard my mother call, I made sure that it was rinsed off and ventured out wearing a towel to meet her.  She just glared at me.  If only I had remembered that I had painted my toenails bright red.   It was the only time that she caught me and didn't actually say anything.  After that, she always called before visiting.  I know that she didn't respect my privacy, so it must have been because she couldn't bear to look.

Another embarrassing incident was when I took some photos to be developed.  I must have thought that I had made my toenails very pretty as I took photos of my feet inside and outside of the house.  The kiosk attendant must have clocked me although she didn't say anything.  Apart from me probably not passing, I was expecting strange looks anyway as I doubt that many people took in photos of their feet.  She mixed up my photos with those of another customer and  I got more strange looks from her as we sorted out the photos.  I know from the expression on her face that the attendant mixed them up deliberately.

When the lady of the house returned, she thanked me and didn't mention anything about me cross-dressing.  However, she did say that one day, I would make somebody a good wife.  I don't know who told her.  I doubt that it was my mother, as she would have been too ashaamed.  I house-sat for that family on several more occasions, though, as well as for other families.  I suppose that they felt that at least with me, they knew what I was up to.  Better the devil you know.

There was one incident that made me smile, though.  While not house-sitting and while wearing male clothes, I was attended in a shop by the same woman who had served me when I had bought my women's clothes.  I had to dispute something.  While I was leaving, I heard her say to someone "She thinks  she's the Queen of Sheba".

That's quite long, isn't it?  I suppose that in answer to the question in the OP, I should have just put "Yes".

Yes. Emphatically yes.

I really don't remember when it started but by the time I was 4 or 5, I was probably playing "dress up" fairly regularly. While my mom thought it "cute," my father was of a decidedly different mind.

By the time I was 7 or 8, Mom had created spots in my dresser and closet for my "special clothes" which magically seemed to get larger as I grew. When I was 10, my feet fit her shoes perfectly and I discovered the feel of nylon upon my legs; unfortunately my feet kept growing That was also about the time my sister (3 years younger) started wearing my hand-me-downs.

7th (and later 10th) grades were torture for me. Because I was compelled to take a PE class those years, I had to revert to boy's briefs and leave my more comfortable underwear at home on weekdays.

Susan

As a 12 year old, I got caught wearing my mum's lipstick, one of her bras, and suckling my best friend.

Quote from: MaryT on December 14, 2018, 02:15:52 PM
That's quite long, isn't it?  I suppose that in answer to the question in the OP, I should have just put "Yes".

It made for a fantastic read! My face went from sad and understanding, to smiling and understanding, to remembering the good ole days of photo developing!

Thank you for the honest reply!
Lacy

I stayed up until 3:00 AM last night writing an all too lengthy and TL:DR reply to this question but then decided not to post it because my experiences were so different and it might be upsetting to some? Taking a fresh look at this today and having a bit of a re-think about it all I've decided to go ahead and post it anyway just to show the variety of differences we all have when it comes to this trans business. Trans kids, openly trans kids are a rarity on this site and I think it's somewhat important our side of these stories are heard because we have some place in all this too.
_______________________

The idea of getting caught wearing girl's clothes is an odd question for me. I couldn't say how loudly I wanted to wear nothing but girl's clothes and it became a real issue for me in the 1st and 2nd grade until my mom sat me down one day and explained the reality of the situation to me.

Damn. This is making me think of things I haven't thought about in a long time and I just noticed I'm frowning. These were hard times.

I understood myself to be a girl. I didn't want to be different from other girls. I mean I knew why I wasn't a girl because of my body but I just was a girl because that's who I was. I understood logically but I really didn't understand.

I recently posted in another thread talking about getting clothes for Christmas and how after I was 15 or so that I had clothes for school and girl's clothes that were too feminine to wear to school and I didn't really think about it until just now but I had the same sort of thing going on my first couple years of grade school too.

I had accumulated a lot of my two older girl cousin's clothes and thought nothing of wearing them casually or just as an everyday sort of thing. When they'd come over I couldn't wait to swap clothes with them and rarely gave them back. It was seen as peculiar but no one really cared as I had always been different. It was just expected that I was going to do this and I did it into my tweens. After that they just gave me stuff. In my box of dress up clothes we used for playing house when my cousins came over there were a couple old housedresses you couldn't keep me out of too so when I did start school, I was very unhappy with how awkward and uncomfortable wearing real boys clothes made me feel and even more dismayed at even being thought of as a boy at all.

I had never been treated like a boy and I had never been like them and I had a very difficult time fitting into the world as one of them. This was clearly obvious. There's kind of a dark spot in my memory between the 2nd and 3rd grade because I was in a pretty dark and unhappy place, had already been in 4 different schools because I was so different and out of place and this whole thing of not being like other girls and what I could and couldn't wear came to a head and that's when my mom sat me down for a bit of reckoning.

I really don't remember the details of all the talks we had or even what I really said but we came to some kind of an understanding with compromises during that summer. In return for not wanting to wear girl's clothes all the time, my demands were met and I was allowed to grow my hair out. To me, this was a fair trade off and in the end, signaled to the world that I was a girl and made me more physically like other girls than girl's clothes ever could have anyway.

This pacified me for a bit. It was still common to wear my cousins clothes at home or my play clothes or be seen clonking around in an old pair of my mom's high heels and this was never something I had to do in secret so I made the mental adjustment that I just had to wear boy's clothes to make the rest of the world happy. It was just clothes but I still knew who I was and what I liked and wanted to wear so there was still a lot of arguing and uncomfortable feelings.

Over the next few years as my hair got longer and my problems in school only got worse, by the time I was 12 and started junior high, people that didn't know I was supposed to be a boy didn't know what I was. I had been in 14 different schools by the time I finished 6th grade because the rest of the world wasn't happy with me and boy's clothes didn't seem to really make a difference. Adherence to the binary and gender conformity was expected but I never felt that applied to me and I didn't know how to act or be different anyway.

Regardless, I had managed to find a balance point in between being a boy or a girl and that pacified me for a bit. At home, I was still borrowing clothes from my cousins and even had some old stuff that my mom didn't wear and as long as we weren't going anywhere, it was no big deal to wear them as just a regular thing. There was no fear of getting caught because there wasn't anything to hide or sneak around about. My folks teased me about it a bit but they teased me about everything always with humor and love. My individuality and apparent queerness was concerning and problematic but respected. We had a lot of talks about being gay especially after my 8th grade crush on a neighbor boy I went to school with ended rather dramatically and for a while, I just let them think I was gay because it made things easier and more peaceful. I mean, why else would I be acting and trying to look like a girl if I wasn't gay, right? We were all so ignorant.

At 15 in the 10th grade, unfortunate events set things in motion and I sat my folks down and had a bit of reckoning with them. I simply refused to keep living my life as a boy and my difficulty in doing so had become more than evident so there were more understandings and more compromises. I could be all the girl I was and wanted to be, that didn't matter but I had to stay in school and to do that I had to be a boy. Once again, I reconciled with myself that clothes were just clothes and not who I was and my folks compromised by letting all my clothes be girl clothes as long as they were something that boys might wear. I also got my ears pierced, my eyebrows professionally shaped at my mom's salon, razors to shave my legs and things that smelled good.

This all happened in 1970 and unisex fashions were a thing then which made things easier but as I got older and after our "understanding", I had a lot more say in what I could wear and how I could look when I wasn't in school so by the time I was 16 people that didn't know I was supposed to be a boy always just assumed I was a girl without them having to think about it or question. My folks and family began to use she/her pronouns because things had become awkward in public and it just made things easier without having to explain I was just weird.

I had girl's clothes for school that passed as boys and I had overtly and unquestionably girl's clothes for when I wasn't in school but no matter what I wore, by the time I was 17 I couldn't have passed as a boy even if I had wanted to. That made school so much fun. I hated life. I hated not just being like other girls even though I had long blonde pretty hair more than halfway down my back some told me they wished theirs was like. I hated I couldn't wear makeup to school or my prettier clothes or different earrings. I loved Saturday nights going out to fancy restaurants for dinner with my folks when we'd dress up a little and my mom would do my hair and I could wear a little makeup and whatever I wanted to wear. I borrowed stuff from my mom all the time and I even had a couple casual tops she borrowed from me occasionally. Having girl things of my own and looking like a girl pacified me for a while.

But this was also about the time things crashed for me. Being socially a girl for all practical purposes but known as the opposite gender five days a week when I had to force myself to go to school became all too much. Bad things happened but as a result, my folks had found me yet another therapist that in a nutshell, took one look at me, put me on HRT and explained to me what transsexualism was. Say what? I guess that made sense and gave me a little more understanding about why I was the way I was so with his guidance and my parent's insistence, I managed to make it through my senior year of high school after which I never had to be known as a boy or wear things because they sort of looked like boy's clothes ever again.

The notion of getting caught cross-dressing in girl's clothes is pretty foreign to me. I was a girl so that was a normal thing to want to do. There was never any shame or embarrassment or hiding or worrying I might get caught doing something I shouldn't be doing. What bothered me more was that at most, all I could do was to wear androgynous things for school. There were some issues though. My aunt got pissed at me for me for having so many of my cousin's clothes and my mom had stuff I knew she'd kill me if I touched. There were raging battles between my mom and I about what I could wear to school because she was more concerned about me getting kicked out of another one and my ideas about what was too girly and hers differed wildly and I was a total raging beyotch about it but somehow my struggles with all this were understood and tolerated. After I graduated and didn't have to be a boy anymore, there was a grand sigh of relief from everyone that this insanity that had been my crazy life had finally come to an end. Even though my boy clothes were really girl's clothes, the ones that weren't girly enough or too androgynous for me went to Goodwill.

My mom died when I was 25. I got all of her clothes, jewelry, good china and purses except her mink stole my aunt wanted that I had no use for anyway. I kept what I wanted and gave the rest to charity. Nearly 40 years later, I still have a few things that were my moms I've kept for sentimental value and her good china still comes out of my hutch for holiday dinners.

Quote from: Susan Baum on December 14, 2018, 02:44:20 PM
7th (and later 10th) grades were torture for me. Because I was compelled to take a PE class those years, I had to revert to boy's briefs and leave my more comfortable underwear at home on weekdays.

Sounds like I wasn't so different after all and I can relate to that. Two days after I was allowed to start school when the whole legal debacle over my long hair got straightened out, I was expelled from 7th grade for fighting a gym teacher that tried to force me into the boy's locker room. I got taken to two different psychologists that were clueless about trans stuff, this was 1967 and they just thought I was super gay but I still ended up getting excused from PE and never had to worry about that sort of thing again.

At 14 I was cross-dressing at my best friends house often.  She and her whole family knew about me and treated me the way I needed to at that time.  No one even said anything about it specifically because I was extremely emotionally vulnerable at the time having just been freed from 8 years of emotional, psychological and physical abuse at the hands of a stepfather.  I was referred to by her brothers as their second sister.  Her mom once told me she always wanted a second daughter as I helped set the table for dinner wearing one of my friends skirts and makeup that she had put on for me. 

When I first started hanging out at her house her dad went over the rules.  One of the most important was the "No boys in her room with the door closed.  If I catch you in there I will throw you bodily out the front door, and throw you cranially out the back door!  If you know what I mean."  The man was a big burly ex-biker and looked really mean.  So three months later he opened my friend's door to tell her that dinner is ready and with a sweet kind smile on his face turns to me and says, "You're of course welcome to stay too."  and closed her door on the way to go find his sons.  I asked my friend why I wasn't just thrown out of the house and she said, "He knows you're not a guy."

We were in drama class/club together at school and for one particular skit we were doing I was playing the p[art of a girl.  I was going to borrow one of her skirts to play the part but she didn't have enough room in her backpack to take it class with her.  So I took it home and the next morning simply put it on and walked to school.  I wore it hanging out with all my goth friends before school, through first period, and across campus to the auditorium to preform in drama class second period.

We did out skit and all were "drama"tically impressed.  I took off the skirt and gave it to my friend who now had room in her pack to take it home with her.  Two or three days later I was pulled behind a bush from behind by two JV football players and their roving crew of sycophantic sadists and they beat me badly enough I thought I was going to die.  Just before the bell rand they each took one more kick to my head and spat on me and called me a "effin fairy" and walked away.  The same group threw me out a window before the teacher got there on to a concrete pad in my physical sciences class two times within the next week.  I completely stopped going to school.  I thought they were going to kill me.

So each morning I would leave to walk to school before my mom left for work.  I would go hang with my friends off campus before they would go on campus to go to class, and I would go back home because by that time my mom had already left.  I would stay at home all day reading literature and practicing writing...  All while wearing my moms clothes.  I know I wasn't careful enough.  I know I screwed up her makeup.  About a month before the end of my freshman year of which I didn't bother attending half of it, my mom and I were sitting on the couch in the living room watching a sitcom or something.  A commercial break comes on and she turns to me and says, "So...  Do you like wearing women's clothes?"  I froze.  Denied it.  My mother never protected me and there was no way I could have trusted her so I buried it all.

I stopped going to my friend's house and stopped hanging around all my friends who knew at least a little.  Never dressed in my mom's clothes again.

A full year of descending into hell...  Four more after that of actually doing everything I could to end up dead.  Risky behavior. Drugs. I was an outright criminal.  Once dared a cop to shoot me.  And outright suicide attempts all the way that final step before something inside would stop me.

Then something happened.  And I will leave that to another post perchance.  Short answer to the OP...  Yes.  I got caught.  :-(

<3

I don't know if this is getting caught but at 7 I was asking my Mom to dress me in my sisters costumes. By twelve I was doing it on my own. At 27 my first wife caught me and soon started an affair with a coworker.

Never caught....that I know of. 

At a very young age mom and dad would be working and I would have lots to time alone in the house to explore.   My favourite place was my mom's room and drawers, and later my sisters room.   

I would put on mom's clip on ear rings, satin slip, undies, etc..   I really liked feminine things, which she ironically had very little of.   

Later on, I estimate around age 10 - 12, I clearly remember putting on mom's sanitary pads, and putting on my sisters bra and panties (stuffing the bra with toilet paper) and going outside to play alone in my sand box.   

I knew at a very young age that "I was a boy" but felt very different inside.   While I could not resist the desire to be a girl, it came with a lot of shame and fear of being caught.   Maybe that kept me from getting caught.   

My mom died in the last 2 years, and my 2 sisters have me her jewelry box...they had no desire to have it.   It really does not have anything of value.   I opened it as they gave it to me, and broke down, not be cause of the loss of mom, but because of the overwhelming childhood memories of wearing her earrings, wearing her perfume, and my dream of finding a million dollars in her jewelry box and drawers. 


Karen. 

I was caught early on wearing my sister's clothes. I was busted shaving my legs as a teenager.