Well, not physically, but in the most important place, between my ears. This has been a long time coming for me, so bear with me if I get long winded with my history and please note it might get a little TMI. I have never, ever, ever told anybody my complete story and I find it something of a relief to be able to tell somebody.
Some of my earliest trans feelings were in my tap dance class at the age of about 7 or 8 when I wondered why I couldn't dress up like the other girls or the teacher. At around 10 I asked my mother for a "boys" ballet outfit for Christmas. I really wanted a girls one, but I figured my mom would freak. As it was, she put me off and put me off, until my three younger sisters found out what I had asked for and they all started to laugh at me. I reacted very badly to this and my mom figured I was serious. So, god bless her heart, she gave me one of my sisters leotards and tights and gave me a room to myself and left me alone. I put them on and felt wonderful. Over the next few years I started to steal my mom's and sisters tights and leotards and put them on whenever I got the chance. Then two things happened that changed my life and set the course of how I would treat my TGness for the rest of my life.
One night, I decided to sleep in some tights, not knowing that my parents would sneak into the room to put my baby sister to sleep next to me in bed. Of course, they noticed. Next morning, my dad came in and sat down and talked to me. He wanted to know if I had been doing that often. Now, my dad was a kind man (I actually got him to admit he always wondered what tights felt like too and that I was very brave for having tried it), but he was also somewhat rigid and religious. I lied and told him I had never tried on the tights and leotard the day my mom gave them to me and that this had been my first time. I could tell he found some relief from that explanation, which was my intent, but I had just learned to lie about my true nature to protect myself and the feelings of my family. I often wonder how things would have turned out if I had told him the truth. I suspect that my life would have been greatly different and I deeply regret that now. I blame myself, but I also was just a kid, so a part of me also blames my father and mother for not seeing what was going on and preferring to stay blind to it (there were numerous similar incidents although not out and out "bustings" over the years) and not seek out help on my behalf.
Second incident happened during one of my dress up sessions. By now I found myself constantly wishing I could wake up a girl. Well, I was lying in bed face down and started to rub my body back and forth because it felt good when all of a sudden I felt an explosion in the region of my privates. I remember that it didn't feel particularly good and frightened me more than anything, but at the same time for a brief moment I thought I had been granted my wish. Somehow, my penis had exploded and left behind a vagina. That feeling of joy only lasted until I flipped over and saw my boy bits with additional "stuff" everywhere. My parents had never breathed a word to me about self-gratification, so all this was a surprise. Not long after, I replicated the experience. I learned that it not only felt good, but the feelings afterward provided relief from the intense envy I felt for girls and my need to dress.
Over the next 25 years or so, I have created my own stash of hose and heels, hundreds of Fictionmania TG stories (always of the transformation into a girl variety, not the CD fantasy stuff) and lots of pictures of women in tights and leotards. I am married and my wife knows about the clothes, stories and pictures. She tolerates my cross-dressing and my late-night relief sessions at the computer. Until recently, I thought I was a garden variety cross-dresser with a fetish for hose and heels, but now I think I have just been lying to myself all these years. Despite my freedom with my wife, I have been dressing less and less because it has become increasingly unsatisfying. I don't have the right girl parts to fill out the clothes properly, have no desire to pretend and it is making me increasingly sad. I am slipping into depression. I do remember putting on a full dress, hose, heels and bra as a teenager and just sitting there looking at myself and just feeling right. I did recently go out in full drag a couple of Halloweens ago and was so sad to put away the illusion. I wanted to be that forever.
I have come to realize that my behaviors of the past amount to self-medication and survival tactics. Dressing was to create the illusion of womanhood, but the illusion is no longer enough. I grew a full beard and gained weight to hide my body from myself. Orgasm is no longer the point, it is the relief from these feelings afterward that I seek. However, I now find the feelings come back so quickly and so strongly that it is almost not worth it. Relations with my wife amount to fantasy sessions where I imagine I am female and we are rubbing our girl parts together. I am cheating both of us of the full experience and she deserves better. Because of my frustration over my body, I am moody and prone to angry outbursts over little things. I have been able to gain greater control over this and mellow a bit over the years, but the basic feelings are still there. Now I feel completely unmotivated to do anything in life. I could sleep all day. Lately, suicidal thoughts have started to creep in and I am getting frightened.
My father died two months ago and I feel like I have come emotionally unhinged. He was a good man that died way too early, but he also cast a strong influence over my life. He always did the right thing for the family. Seriously, he was honest and had great integrity. Hell, I never heard him lie or even curse! I carried that over into my own life and have done the "right thing" to keep my own family together. But, now that he is gone, I feel like a champagne bottle with a leaking cork. Emotions that I could barely deal with in the past are coming fizzing out and the pressure is increasing. I find myself fighting tears everyday and the pain is something I can physically feel as great tension.
I am currently in Orlando with my son visiting my parents house and Disney World. I didn't intend this when I took this trip, but to me, it almost feels like a farewell tour between father and son. Both me and my father and me and my son. I fear things will never be the same between us. That is the hardest thing I have ever written in my life. I had to actually pause and give myself a moment to break down before I typed it out.
As I walk around the parks, I find myself compulsively looking at women and the variety in their features and wondering what I will look like. I look at teenage girls with envy because inside, I feel just like them and I will never be that. My teenage girl youth never was. It is a shock to look in the mirror and see a 39 year old man, married 15 years with an 8 year old son. On the plus side, I am only about 5" 5' with size 10 (women's) feet. The pitch of my voice is quite variable and I have been "mam'ed" on the phone more than once without trying. I know, once I shed all this excess weight, that I won't be very big at all as I am not terribly muscular. I have high hopes that once on HRT, I will be passable. Indeed, some people thought I was actually a women in my Halloween cheerleader outfit, even after hearing me speak. I cling to that with hope.
So, that is me and just about all the things I have never been able to admit to in my life. When I get back to Houston, I will be seeking out a gender therapist for help because I can't handle it anymore. This will change my life in ways that I don't want. I fear for my marriage and my idilic suburban master-planned-community life. I fear the embarrassment me, my wife and son will endure in the community. I fear the change and all that it implies. But most of all, I fear for my well-being if I don't try. I have been fighting the uphill climb of this coaster for all my life, but I have crested the top and can't fight the downhill momentum now. I pray to God the therapist says that I simply need some other way of expressing my feminine side. That I am not a TS. Personally, I don't think this train is going to stop until I reach vajayjay station and I am going to have to deal with that.
Anyway, hope I didn't bore you all. It is a lot to read and it was difficult to write. I recently found this site and it has become my number 1 place to visit above Fictionmania and all the other fetish sites I used to visit. All those were about fantasy transformation, but I find that I have to live in the here-and-now of my reality. Escape is no longer possible. Thanks.
Dee
