Veronica27
04-04-2012, 03:35 PM
The recent thread asking who had been dressing for more than 50 years came as an alarming wake-up call for me. As a member of the 60 plus club, I have been doing this sort of thing off and on for a great deal longer than I like to admit or even think about. Sometimes the beginning seems so long ago, and sometimes it seems like yesterday. In any event, your mortality is suddenly staring you in the face, when these thoughts are aroused. How much longer is there? What have I accomplished with my life? What, if anything, do I still want to achieve?
Those who have been out and about, and very active might be content with their life's accomplishments and where they stand in their gender journey. On the other hand, I would imagine that many crossdressers like myself who have spent most of their life secratively indulging their desires, might reach this stage and suddenly begin to think about all their unfulfilled crossdressing dreams and desires, and begin planning and scheming to see how much more they could do in the time they have left. However, I feel neither contentment or a burning desire to accomplish more. Instead, there is more of a feeling of melancholy about it all.
Sixty years ago, life was much different than it is today. Our lives were shaped in large part by the conditions that existed when we were growing up, and we often face the changes that take place with a touch of reluctance that once was, is gone forever. The culture that existed in my boyhood was far more reserved and modest than the more blatant one that exists today. A boy growing up during the forties was not faced with the images of near nakedness that we see on television and in the movies today that leave little to the imagination. There was no playboy magazine to get your hands on and no direct references to sex on radio or in the movies. There were no glimpses of cleavage, and skirts were all below the knees. Pre-marital sex, while it did occur, was more of a taboo than crossdressing has ever been, and could ruin one's life and reputation if found out. Marital infidelity ruined many celebrity careers.
Whether we consider that way of life good or bad, it existed and brought a kind of order and civility to our lives that many old-timers feel is missing today. When I think back to it, I feel somewhat torn in my emotions. If that culture had not existed and those times were much like today, I don't think I would have become a crossdresser. It was the mystique of womanhood that gradually overpowered my senses during puberty that contributed to the curiosity that led to my trying on one of my sister's bras one day when no one else was home. I had actually been unaware of the existence of such garments a short while prior to that, such was the modesty that existed in those days. I could write whole chapters on the impact this discovery had on my adolescent mind, as well as the emotional impact that resulted from satisfying my curiosity about it.
Now, sixty years later, I have no regrets about embarking on this path toward an exploration of the unique world of womanhood and its visual and external trappings. What I do regret is the countless hours spent agonizing over the reasons behind the behaviour. There was virtually no literature on the subject back in those days, only myths, superstitions, and stereotypes that made you uncertain as to who and what you really were. For large periods of my life, I employed abstinence from crossdressing and suppression of the desires to allay my fears about what it really meant about me. However, it never went away completely, and I felt somewhat relieved, when in my later years crossdressing became more acceptable and not thought of as a psychiatric disorder.
But now, in my 70's, I am starting to become overcome with feelings of "stop the bus, I want to get off". By bus, I do not mean my own crossdressing, but the direction in which the culture is taking it. I am a man, who has always felt like a man and has never had any feelings of confusion over that fact, despite liking to dress up in female clothing occasionally. I am essentially playing a game of "let's pretend", just like the games of cowboys and indians and cops and robbers we played as children. We didn't really want to be any of those things, but were just smitten by the adventurous images we saw at the Saturday matinees, and wanted to act them out ourselves. I realize that it is not "pretending" for everyone, but the growing emphasis on the relevance of something called "gender" is taking the whole crossdressing phenomenon down a path that I have difficulty relating to.
In the past few years, I have managed to get out to a few of the smaller CD events held in my region. They have been primarily social events, and as such have been an opportunity to escape from my self imposed closet, and spend an enjoyable few days as "Veronica". However, when I research some of the larger events, or the sites of some of the support organizations, I see far too serious an agenda than I am interested in, with their emphasis on transgender, LGBT and political activism. I long for an opportunity to just have some fun now and then, doing something which to my experience was daring and adventurous, and broke a few of society's rigid rules, without actually hurting anybody or anything. That to me was crossdressing, and I feel like it is being taken away from me by an overzealous rightousness that is the modern transgender movement.
Thus my feelings of melancholy. I have gone from worrying about the implications of something that should have been fun for me, to accomplishing my own acceptance, only to find that the culture is treating my little peccadillo far too seriously.
Veronica
Those who have been out and about, and very active might be content with their life's accomplishments and where they stand in their gender journey. On the other hand, I would imagine that many crossdressers like myself who have spent most of their life secratively indulging their desires, might reach this stage and suddenly begin to think about all their unfulfilled crossdressing dreams and desires, and begin planning and scheming to see how much more they could do in the time they have left. However, I feel neither contentment or a burning desire to accomplish more. Instead, there is more of a feeling of melancholy about it all.
Sixty years ago, life was much different than it is today. Our lives were shaped in large part by the conditions that existed when we were growing up, and we often face the changes that take place with a touch of reluctance that once was, is gone forever. The culture that existed in my boyhood was far more reserved and modest than the more blatant one that exists today. A boy growing up during the forties was not faced with the images of near nakedness that we see on television and in the movies today that leave little to the imagination. There was no playboy magazine to get your hands on and no direct references to sex on radio or in the movies. There were no glimpses of cleavage, and skirts were all below the knees. Pre-marital sex, while it did occur, was more of a taboo than crossdressing has ever been, and could ruin one's life and reputation if found out. Marital infidelity ruined many celebrity careers.
Whether we consider that way of life good or bad, it existed and brought a kind of order and civility to our lives that many old-timers feel is missing today. When I think back to it, I feel somewhat torn in my emotions. If that culture had not existed and those times were much like today, I don't think I would have become a crossdresser. It was the mystique of womanhood that gradually overpowered my senses during puberty that contributed to the curiosity that led to my trying on one of my sister's bras one day when no one else was home. I had actually been unaware of the existence of such garments a short while prior to that, such was the modesty that existed in those days. I could write whole chapters on the impact this discovery had on my adolescent mind, as well as the emotional impact that resulted from satisfying my curiosity about it.
Now, sixty years later, I have no regrets about embarking on this path toward an exploration of the unique world of womanhood and its visual and external trappings. What I do regret is the countless hours spent agonizing over the reasons behind the behaviour. There was virtually no literature on the subject back in those days, only myths, superstitions, and stereotypes that made you uncertain as to who and what you really were. For large periods of my life, I employed abstinence from crossdressing and suppression of the desires to allay my fears about what it really meant about me. However, it never went away completely, and I felt somewhat relieved, when in my later years crossdressing became more acceptable and not thought of as a psychiatric disorder.
But now, in my 70's, I am starting to become overcome with feelings of "stop the bus, I want to get off". By bus, I do not mean my own crossdressing, but the direction in which the culture is taking it. I am a man, who has always felt like a man and has never had any feelings of confusion over that fact, despite liking to dress up in female clothing occasionally. I am essentially playing a game of "let's pretend", just like the games of cowboys and indians and cops and robbers we played as children. We didn't really want to be any of those things, but were just smitten by the adventurous images we saw at the Saturday matinees, and wanted to act them out ourselves. I realize that it is not "pretending" for everyone, but the growing emphasis on the relevance of something called "gender" is taking the whole crossdressing phenomenon down a path that I have difficulty relating to.
In the past few years, I have managed to get out to a few of the smaller CD events held in my region. They have been primarily social events, and as such have been an opportunity to escape from my self imposed closet, and spend an enjoyable few days as "Veronica". However, when I research some of the larger events, or the sites of some of the support organizations, I see far too serious an agenda than I am interested in, with their emphasis on transgender, LGBT and political activism. I long for an opportunity to just have some fun now and then, doing something which to my experience was daring and adventurous, and broke a few of society's rigid rules, without actually hurting anybody or anything. That to me was crossdressing, and I feel like it is being taken away from me by an overzealous rightousness that is the modern transgender movement.
Thus my feelings of melancholy. I have gone from worrying about the implications of something that should have been fun for me, to accomplishing my own acceptance, only to find that the culture is treating my little peccadillo far too seriously.
Veronica