Kristen Kelly
08-05-2006, 02:38 PM
Excuse the length of this post but it is a good read.
I sit here with a box of tissues teary and red eyed, after an emotional afternoon of soul searching. I wanted to get my feelings into words while they were fresh in my mind. What started out as trying to make my GF understand my dressing developed into a possible tremendous discovery I made about myself. My answer to why I dress has always been, “I Don’t Know.” Growing up there were no traumas in my live at a young age, no sexual problems, no forced dressing by a parent, I just stated trying on my mothers clothes at the age of about 8, these subjects were touched upon my 5 months of seeing a shrink, still I never knew why. My GF with a need to understand me more had requested a book “My Husband Wears My Clothes by Peggy R Rudd,” in the book she brings up the same questions but 1 more, a strong female example, I had never heard that reason (or didn’t want to hear it) before. Upon reading that I imminently became emotional, growing up my father worked hard and many hours, even 2 jobs at Christmas time, to get the things for myself and my 2 other brothers. My mother was always there for us she would take us on day trips, to the beach, fishing at a local lake, rollerskating, and even shooting hoops in the back yard. At the age of 4 I watched her in the kitchen breading veal cutlets, the phone rang and I re breaded them again dipping them in the flour, egg, and breadcrumbs, as I had watched her do it moments before. I have always had a love for cooking, and I am a masterful cook today, I was encouraged to help when younger making pancakes on Sunday mornings, to helping make dinner. I had been ahead of my times, never seen cooking as a feminine thing, for my father was a cook in the service and later in a restaurant before I was born. Growing up my father would cook dinner on Sundays, on of the only days he was home all day. After I had moved out of the house, my parents built the house that they retired in, they were the general contractors doing much if the work themselves after the builder they hired went bankrupt. My father would have to travel often for schooling for work so my mom oversaw most of the building. One time when clearing the 1 acre of trees for the house I began cutting a large tree that turned out to be hollow, It was close to the power lines and a house so I attached a rope to it and showed my mom how to use the chain saw, she cut as I pulled the tree away from the power lines.
I have a very close bond with my mother she is so much like me, she can do anything she puts her mind to, wouldn’t think of doing anything half way, taught me to be self-sufficient, I have turned out a lot like her, and maybe the start of my dressing was one way I was trying to be more like her.
I sit here with a box of tissues teary and red eyed, after an emotional afternoon of soul searching. I wanted to get my feelings into words while they were fresh in my mind. What started out as trying to make my GF understand my dressing developed into a possible tremendous discovery I made about myself. My answer to why I dress has always been, “I Don’t Know.” Growing up there were no traumas in my live at a young age, no sexual problems, no forced dressing by a parent, I just stated trying on my mothers clothes at the age of about 8, these subjects were touched upon my 5 months of seeing a shrink, still I never knew why. My GF with a need to understand me more had requested a book “My Husband Wears My Clothes by Peggy R Rudd,” in the book she brings up the same questions but 1 more, a strong female example, I had never heard that reason (or didn’t want to hear it) before. Upon reading that I imminently became emotional, growing up my father worked hard and many hours, even 2 jobs at Christmas time, to get the things for myself and my 2 other brothers. My mother was always there for us she would take us on day trips, to the beach, fishing at a local lake, rollerskating, and even shooting hoops in the back yard. At the age of 4 I watched her in the kitchen breading veal cutlets, the phone rang and I re breaded them again dipping them in the flour, egg, and breadcrumbs, as I had watched her do it moments before. I have always had a love for cooking, and I am a masterful cook today, I was encouraged to help when younger making pancakes on Sunday mornings, to helping make dinner. I had been ahead of my times, never seen cooking as a feminine thing, for my father was a cook in the service and later in a restaurant before I was born. Growing up my father would cook dinner on Sundays, on of the only days he was home all day. After I had moved out of the house, my parents built the house that they retired in, they were the general contractors doing much if the work themselves after the builder they hired went bankrupt. My father would have to travel often for schooling for work so my mom oversaw most of the building. One time when clearing the 1 acre of trees for the house I began cutting a large tree that turned out to be hollow, It was close to the power lines and a house so I attached a rope to it and showed my mom how to use the chain saw, she cut as I pulled the tree away from the power lines.
I have a very close bond with my mother she is so much like me, she can do anything she puts her mind to, wouldn’t think of doing anything half way, taught me to be self-sufficient, I have turned out a lot like her, and maybe the start of my dressing was one way I was trying to be more like her.