Good morning ladies! Please let me apologize upfront for the Great Wall of Text on this chapter. But, several deeply meaningful events came pretty close to each other during my journey and I wanted to capture them all. If you have read any of my previous entries I think you will agree it was my turn for some wins.
Chapter 8
Many years have now passed since the birth of my daughter and much of the initial fear and anxiety had melted away into the daily events of homework, soccer, and holidays. My thick walls of compartmentalization were solid. Yeah, most of your are jumping up and down yelling "Denial" right now which is correct but keep that to yourself.
Anyway.
As I mentioned in previous posts, I strictly limited my feminine expression to women's undergarments. Specifically panties. I was (and still are) adamant about using the term panty over underwear at it is way more feminine to me. Being this was my only female outlet I allowed myself, I needed it to be as feminine as possible. You know, squeeze every drop of pink goodness from this forbidden fruit.
So little by little I began to accumulate a collection of panties. I don't exactly recall how my "hobby" came to light but my wife did eventually become aware. It must not have been a thing though as we just went on with our days. In time she even participated by purchasing panties for me. I even recall several shopping trips where she would see something that she knew I would like and she would add it to her purchases.
eBay was also a game changer. The magic of the internet allowed me an anxiety free shopping experience where I could browse the selections and make purchases without feeling compelled to fabricate some ridiculous cover story. Honestly, the whole process of finding a style that I liked, choosing the right size and color, and checking out was very affirming and an effective antidote to the waves of GD. Retail therapy right? Ladies, you all know it works!
And because GD had become a frequent co-pilot I did a lot of retail therapy. A lot. Hey, it was way cheaper than a therapist at 100 dollars an hour!
In a short span of a few years my panty collection had grown to epic proportions. Looking back and laughing, I would say a therapist might suggest an intervention. Whatever, if not this then what? We all know GD demands action.
It was about this time that a conversation occurred with my wife. I saw it coming and I dreaded the potential outcome. We were enjoying some pillow talk one evening and she stated that she could certainly understand my desire to wear something silky, who wouldn't she added.
Uh oh, here it comes I thought...
She then wanted to know if I liked panties because they were silky and felt nice or if I liked them because they were pretty.
Bam. Deer meet headlights. Time froze as did that trickle of moisture forming on my brow. What do I say? Do I hazard the truth? Oh god. Think dang it, think!
With a very dry mouth I coughed out the response that maybe a little of both? Mostly silky for sure, but colors and decoration made them kind of exciting. Maybe? I looked away expecting the whoosh and thud of the guillotine.
To my elation, there was no whoosh. There was no thud. Instead she cheerfully giggled and exclaimed "you're a crossdresser!" I stammered an unintelligible response, not really sure if what came out of my mouth even remotely resembled words. I think muscle memory eventual took up the slack for my stunned silence and I explained that my interest was limited to just panties. This seemed to satisfy her curiosity and she moved on.
That was it?!?
Maybe, just maybe, the vision of my future crafted by fear and guilt was all just a farce. Scare tactics by my over active amygdala. That said, she did bring up some points that landed with a thud. She did use the word "crossdresser" and she did bring up the pretty versus silky question. While I was not in the headspace to address the crossdresser comment to myself I did spend a lot of time thinking about the desire to seek out items that were pretty.
Perhaps this was me taking baby steps toward a greater level of self discovery. In any case, I acknowledged to myself that I DID want my choices to be pretty and this desire especially applied to color. You see, male underwear comes in colors but those colors were always dark or muted. However, panties came in pretty pastels, something you would never see the Marlboro man wearing. Once this connection was made my mind was set. It is funny, you could present me with a pair of black satin panties absolutely dripping with lace and I would recoil! Those are too masculine, take them away! Silly right? GD poisons the brain in some weird ways.
A few months after this conversation an event occurred that would forever change my family. It was the summer before my daughter's Junior year in high school and she had an announcement, she came out as a lesbian.
As a parent you notice things which I did. I would sort of catalog them away to see what happens. I knew when or if the time came that I would be supportive. Very supportive. In my mind I knew exactly how I would want the response to be if I came out. I made darn sure to express my support in the best way possible.
It all went down like this.
With teary eyes, "Mom...Dad... I have to tell you something. I'm gay".
Us, "Babe, your mom and I love you so much and all we want is for you to be happy, where are we going for dinner."
She smiled through her tears, we all embraced and went for pizza. That was it. But not really.
Shortly after "the" conversation my wife and talked, we knew we needed to make a move. You see, at the time we were still living in the midwest. A part of the country where our daughter would never live her best life. My wife and I knew we needed to move and move fast. The next day at work I located an open management position in Seattle, I called my wife up and without hesitation she said do it.
It wasn't easy, moving never is. But this one had purpose. We put our home on the market, broke the news to our families and I started the exhausting process of boxing up all those panties. Really, that was a thing. Don't judge..
By December of that year we had arrived in the PNW and were getting settled. The cultural change was amazing! We went from a town where everyone scrutinized everything and everyone to a city where "you do you" is the mantra. I think the best (and kindest) way for me to put this is, in the Midwest they place a high value on conformity while on the West Coast, we place a high value on individuality.
June rolled around and gave me the most emotional moment since witnessing the birth of our daughter. As a family, we attended PRIDE in Seattle. Seeing the tears in my daughter'e eyes as she looked around at the hundreds of thousands of people jammed in downtown Seattle, all celebrating her right to be her. I cry as I type this. Witnessing her find herself and find her home is the most special gift a parent could ever hope for.
As the day aged I made some discoveries for myself too. There were a lot of trans folk out and about. All being accepted, all feeling love, and all expressing themselves without hesitation.
While this experience did not erase the years of transphobic conditioning it did start to chip away at it. About two weeks later a bright light broke through the cracks in my closet door and I ordered my first bra.
