My mother took in sewing and did alterations for extra income. She often used me as the dress form when I was 12 - 14. Once it became obvious I was enjoying getting dressed too much my mother found a dress form at a second hand shop. But by then I was hooked.
I started on my own around age six. I do know that when was a toddler my mother dressed me as a girl for Halloween. I do not remember that, but I have always wondered if the attention I received from that event was the spark that ignited my crossdressing.
Gee, I don't know. Maybe because our parent's would have gone through the roof, or that we would have been alienated at school and become a social outcast. Yeah, just what any kid would want.Quote:
Originally Posted by NicoleScott
There was no specific trigger for me. My mom helped by occasionally letting me wear earrings and a little makeup, but she didn't force me to, and was only responding to my innate interest when she did it. By the age of five I was completely hooked on dresses and high heels and media images of women wearing them, but didn't yet have the means to do much about it. It's escalated ever since.
- Diane
My earliest memory is getting a pair of pantyhose from my mom before I was in kindergarten. I don't remember asking for them. Anyhow I wore them all around the house. It was a vet natural thing for me. I was devastated when a shot while later she took them away and told me only girls west pantyhose.
I was born with mine as far as I can remember I've been fascinated with the female body and the clothing made for them and not just in a sexual way intact the arousal is just an added bonus, when I was 13 I began to steal my sister's clothing
That's the key there, CherylT....what was it that made us WANT to try on Mom's panties in the first place? Where did that thought come from?Quote:
Originally Posted by Cheryl T
If I could figure that out....I am so fortunate to have a supportive SO for when I have those deep introspective thoughts.
Oh, I don't know about that. I'm pretty sure I do know. Though it did take me a long time to put it all together.Quote:
Originally Posted by mikeyp
Well, you did ask. Condensed version:
I was a normal boy. Until......I was molested, started after first grade. The guy convinced me that god made a mistake, and that I was really supposed to have been born a girl. he was my only friend (yeah, right, but what did I know). He would dress me up in his sisters clothes. Taught me to have sex with him like a girl does. Told me it would remain our little secret. Went on regularly, sometimes every day for months at a time. His favorite outfits to dress me up in? Cheerleader, schoolgirl uniform, and a girls sailor dress (coincidently also my favorite outfits to this day. Hmmmmmm). At home, I would take my sister's old clothes and try them on, learn how to wear girl stuff. Became a habit. A few years later, when he started getting involved with real girls, well I felt I was losing my only friend. I knew how to get him back. Dress up as a girl for him and offer myself to him. Of course that was easier for him than all the trouble real girls made him go through so that went on for a few more years until high school, but the difference was, now I was initiating my transformation into being his girlfriend. Now, I really believed him when he told me that if I was good, and learned how to be a good girl, then god would fix me. So I expected to turn into a girl around jr high when all the other girls were growing breasts, etc.. And of course I had convinced myself that I was supposed to be a girl too, because of course as I got better and better at being a girl, it just made sense. Then, as I didn't reach puberty until I was 17, throughout high school I was a mess. I didn't know what I was. I felt like I was really a girl, felt like I should behave that way (after all, I was basically someone's girlfriend for 7 years). I wasn't developing into a man or a woman. i thought god had forgotten about me. So I just continued what i was doing, and waited. And waited. Waited for god to do something that would tell me what I was going to be. As I learned about homosexuality, at first I thought that I must be gay. But it didn't quite fit, because the weird part was, I wasn't attracted to boys. Then I thought I might be transsexual (news of Christine Jorgensen had been public for a few years). But that was before we knew that gender and who we are attracted to were different things, so that didn't make sense to me either. And so it went: Whenever no one was home, I'd dress up in my sister's clothes, do my hair like a girl, borrow some make up from her table, and read her girl magazines and pretend to be a girl. Of course, all this constantly going on during the years that my personality was developing, something was bound to 'stick'. And so it did. Puberty finally came around, and of course I remained a boy, then a man. But 40 years later I still feel like I'm waiting to become a high school girl, waiting for that life to start. I still feel like I'm supposed to wear clothes appropriate for a girl of that age. And I still feel like I'm supposed to behave intimately and sexually as a girl does. But funny, even going all the way back to grade school, I was always attracted to girls, even while feeling like I was one at the same time. That hasn't changed, either. I did learn how to act like a normal man, but, it's always an act, like I'm acting the role of a man even though I'm not feeling like one. So at home, I simply be myself: My 14 year old, girl, self. Still waiting.... If you want the long version with more influences that affected me, click the link in my sig. It's about a ten minute read on how to turn a normal boy into a TG/CD, no genetics required.
Growing up until I was about 7 when things changed.
85% of my friends were girls in the neighborhood so we always played together. I liked what they liked.
When I was 16 my GF's dressed me up in girl mode and I went to the senior prom as a dare and to play a joke on the football captain.A very long story I have shared here before.
Their Mother drove us there and picked us up after.
Very much enjoyed being a girl all night with my besties.
I never dressed again until my kids were grown and on their own.
Always felt my gender was wrong but didn't know anything about TG ism until I came here.
Upon reflecting on the origin of my desire to wear girl’s clothing, I believe it occurred when I was about 9 or 10 years old. My older sister had entered junior high school and her wardrobe started to expand, including more feminine attire such as dresses, skirts, blouses, bras, slips, nylons, high heels, et al. Also, she excelled in sports and seemed to get a lot of attention about her athletic successes.
Meanwhile, I was a very slender kid, and not very good at sports although I went out for several – I was mediocre at best. The difference between us in athletic ability was day and night. I wanted to be more like my sister.
So one day I ventured into her room, donning some lingerie and stockings, etc. I was hooked. I believe this was the event that triggered me journey to who I am today - a transgender woman.
when i was 8 or 9 or so my aunt dressed me as a girl just goofing, i mean huge pocket book silly huge shoes, then when i went home i borrowed my step moms stuff and started on my own :)
What a delight it is to read all these familiar stories
The "something" that happened, I believe, was that it was related to sexual pleasure. I believe I somehow discovered that certain things felt good at a very, very young age. Because I grew up in a family where my father had a temper and would get very frustrated and yell at my mother and my siblings and me, it caused me a lot of stress. I think I used fantasy as a stress reliever, and it became a pattern for me. I remember at a young age fantasizing what it would feel like to wear women's underwear. But, it wasn't until age 12 or 13 that I slipped into my cousins one-piece bathing suit that was hanging in the bathroom. It was a wonderful feeling. Those were my beginnings. It wasn't until I was able to share my experiences on this site that, and read a lot of books that I understood I wasn't alone and also why I do this.
I cannot say I have the exact same story but it is pretty close...I also read your 10 minute review.....tough life to be sure...I wish you well.Quote:
Originally Posted by sometimes_miss
For me I think I was about 13 when I saw my older sister wearing a see-through night dolly. I though to myself I wounder what I would look like if I would put that on and when I did get a chance to wear it I felt sexy and I got a sexual thrill. After that I started to wounder how I would look like if I had a female body too. I kept dressing, that is trying on my sister's panties and bras on and off foe about a year or so. Then it stopped when I got into dating girls. I never got the urge again or thought about it until one day a couple of years ago it hit me all of a sudden and I don't know why it happen, but I just got the urge to by a pair of women high heel shoes. After that it went to panties, bras. As of today I have everything it takes for me to look female. I also told my SO about my crossdressing and she is OK with it as long as I don't dress every day and that none of our family finds out. At first I thought that something was wrong with me for feeling like this, but after I found this sight and found that there were others like me with the same feelings I knew that I was OK to feel like this. Now I am comfortable with myself and I wouldn't ever want my crossdressing feeling to go away. I just love the way I look and feel when I'm all dressed and looking like a female. I still like being male, but just enjoy wearing female clothes.
I want to reiterate my earlier comments didn't mean to be insensitive to those who started for a traumatic reason my heart goes out to you can't imagine the horror. Though I do hope you enjoy dressing as much as I do there is no better feeling
I first posted this in December 2007--- Sonce then, my Mother has passed over to the other side.
My mother is now 79 years old and lives in a house my wife and I bought for her that is two doors down from us.
She is still a wonderful lady, getting older and just got her 25 year pin from AA. When I was growing up, I never knew she drank. I just thought that everyone occasionally found their mother passed out at the kitchen table with a half empty bottle of scotch. I'm much better now, thank you.
I was around 9 years old.
My 15 year old cousin had moved in with us. It was a sad story, her mother had died, her father remarried, the typical wicked step mother, car wreck, her father died and the step mother went into a nursing home. My grandmother said to send her to our house, we got so many kids another one won't make much of a difference. So she moved in with us.
Somehow in my 9 year old mind, I thought she (the cousin) was getting favorable treatment from my parents. I wanted to get the same kind of treatment.
For some reason that 9 year old mind also concluded that if I wore her clothes, my parents and grandparents would shower me with affection also.
I put on a pair of her yellow big panties (this was about 1958) and a pair of her side zip jeans and a sleevless white camp shirt. Nobody even noticed. (In retrospect I don't see how they could not have known, but they didn't say anything to me at the time.) I went upstairs and took the clothes off. Those panties did something to me.
One time when my parents went on a trip and the cousin was in charge of us. She was downstairs reading a book. I got on a pair of her panties and crawled into her bed. (In our house it was scandalous to sleep in anything but pajamas or a nightgown.)
The cousin came upstairs and turned on the light in her bedroom and saw me in her bed. I feigned being asleep. She came over and ever so gently lifted up the covers and saw me in her panties. The covers came back down, she turned out the light and went and got into my bed.
After a while, I went into my bedroom in just her panties. She was in my bed reading a book. I told her I was scared and wanted someone to hold me. She looked at me and told me to go back to bed and hold myself.
The episode was never mentioned again.
She eventually went away to college.
Fast forward about 5 or 6 years. I had developed a bedwetting problem. Wet beds and wet sheets were a real bummer.
My father insisted I was just to d*** lazy to get out of the bed to go to the bathroom. Lots of tears, spankings and wet pajamas. My mother eventually bought me several pairs of 'stay dry' incontinent pants that I was to wear under my pajamas. I was both embarassed and excited about them at the same time.
My father had remodeled our basement and turned it into a bedroom. I was down there by myself, had a tv and radio and my school desk where I did my homework.
I had progressed to buying my own panties by this time.---this was before walmart and kmart. Went to Kresgee's or Woolworths to get them.
One night I was in bed in a just a pair of panties.
My mother came downstairs to kiss me goodnight. My pajamas were lying on my desk, along with some laundry she had told me to put away earlier in the day.
She told me to get out of bed and put away the laundry like she had told me to do. I told her no, could I do it in the morning, I was tired.
Mother insisted I do as she told me to do. Then she saw my pajamas and wanted to know why I didn't have them on and did I have on my 'protection' (That was our code word for the incontinent pants and diapers I wore to bed....we would NEVER call them by their real names, only by protection.)
Mother than told me to get out of bed right now. I refused. She reached down to pull my covers off of me and I blurted out, "Mom, I'm naked!"
She went over to my desk and picked up my pajama bottoms, gave them to me and told me put them on and put away the laundry.
I put the bottoms on over my panties while still under the covers and got out of bed and started to put away my laundry. She then insisted I wear protection to bed and I was always to wear protection and pajamas to bed. Nice people didn't sleep without pajamas.
She then swatted my butt. She must have been able to tell I had something on under my pajamas because she pulled out the waistband and asked me what I was wearing.
I started crying. I told her it wasn't fair, I hated wearing protection, I hated having to wear big white briefs (JC Penny double seats--wish I had some now..she bought them for me) that looked like diapers, I hated wearing diapers to bed and I liked how these underpants felt. I told her I had bought them thinking they were boy's bikini underpants.
She hugged me and said she understood how I felt. But until I outgrew the bedwetting it was so much easier on her to have me wear protection. It was too much trouble to have to laundry everyday--we didn't have a dryer- and to wipe my face and put on my protection and go to bed.
And she stood there. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I was too embarassed to pull of my pajama pants and have my mother see me in panties. I had only occasionally put on my protection in front of her, never in front of my father.
Finally I said the heck with it, sat on the bed and took of my pajama bottoms. I then walked over to my desk in my panties and turned my back, took off the panties and pulled on my protection.
This was very exciting to me and I didn't know why.
I started to get back into bed and my mother asked if I was forgetting something. I started to put on the pajama bottoms. No, my mother said, finish putting away the laundry.
I put away the laundry in my chest of drawers just wearing my protection. I was so embarassed and excited at the same time and didn't know why.
When I was done, my mother came over and kissed me and said, 'don't forget your pajamas." and went out the door and turned out the light.
Oh man, I knew I was in trouble. Not only was I a bedwetter, but my Mom had found out I wear panties. And she was probably going to tell my dad. I worried about that until I fell asleep. I think I cried myself to sleep that night. I wished I had on panties instead of protection.
The next day when I got home from school, I was in my basement room lying on my bed watching TV. My mom came downstairs with a bag from Sears.
She sat on my bed and said she loved me and was so proud of me for being a nice young man. She told me she was sorry that I struggled so much. She knew I was a good kid. Things will get better she said. Then, as she leaned over and hugged me, she said, "I understand boys need their privacy," and handed me the bag. "These are for you", she said.
Somehow I knew I had the upper hand. I just laid there and didn't return her hug or take the bag. She got up, left the bag on my bed, said supper will be ready when your father gets home and went upstairs. At the top of the stairs, she turned and said to me, "I am not going to mention this to your father."
After a while, I looked in the bag. There was a package of panties from Sear's. Three pair, blue, yellow and white.
For me, I think it was an off-shoot of my fascination/obsession with breasts. The dressing started when I was about 12 or 13. (I remember choosing to stay home alone while the family went on weekend camping trips just so I could dress.). It started with just rolling up towels and shoving them in one of mom's bras. I wanted to know what it felt like to have them. Still do. The rest just happened naturally. Each step along the way wondering, "What would it be like to...". I still come across scenarios that I wonder, "What would it feel like to...change the oil on the car?....mow the lawn?....exercise?...go through a fast food drive-thru? You get the idea. All of these things I have done just wearing a bra filled with water balloons under my drab clothes. Do you know how difficult it is to hide a 44DDD chest when you're drab?
Before all of this, I don't have memory of having dressed, or being forced to, for any reason.
For me it was just a natural progression that started purely by accident. I'll skip over my younger days as I don't think it is really part of it. I started off buying a couple pairs of panties. Then I figured I'd try bra/pantie combo. After seeing how I looked like that I bought some thigh high stoking and a garter. Then I started hitting the thrift stores to find nightwear and lingerie. Clothes and makeup came after that. So what started as just liking how my butt looked in panties has grown into what it is today.
I was about six when my mother caught me in one of her dresses. She laughed it off and we never mentioned it. Later, at about 10, I became more secretive. I faked being sick to stay home from school. I would raid my mother's closet and vanity. I wore her yellow satin evening gown, black patent pumps with three inch heels, and her Revlon Cherries in the Snow lipstick. I don't know what drove me to put on her dress that first time or continue to wear her other things in secret. I don't know why I dress now. I only know it feels right. When dressed, I feel "this is me. This is who I am...."
I was driving a convertible behind a truck with a big radioactive hazard sign that started splashing glowing pink stuff all over me, damn I thought...now I'm gonna need a new wardrobe 😠
I prescribe to the the 'block universe' theory myself so whatever it was 'or wasn't' I'm gonna say it was natural 😊
I accidentally "found" my cousins ballerina costume in my grandmothers closet when I was like 6 or 7 ....does that count as "something happened".....or could it be the fact I tried it on ?..........and I liked it ?
I have shared my story several times, but here it is . . . . . . We were on vacation in Canada and my aunt and uncle thought it would be a good idea to put a bra on their ten year old nephew. I remember being quite upset as they held me down and put on the bra. It was ironic that years later, my aunt sent me a photo on me laying on the ground with the bra on. I look quite upset, with tears streaming down my cheeks. After we returned home from vacation, I found myself drawn to my sisters underwear drawer. I started wearing her panties under my clothing. One day I was trying on her one-piece swimming suit and my mom returned early from grocery shopping. She started yelling at me and asking me I wanted to be a girl. I should have said yes! Anyway, she put the fear in me, because I didn't crossdress again until I was 22 years old. I remember it so clearly. I was having a shower at my in-laws and I noticed my mother-in-law's pantyhose hanging on the towel rack. The next thing I know, I am pulling up the pantyhose around my torso. I would guess that being forced to wear the bra so many years ago is
why I am wearing a bra and panties as I write this entry. Sometime I wonder if I would have ever taken that first step if it had not been for my Canadian aunt? Any thoughts?
Definitely a natural occurrence for me. I was so young when it started that I really can't remember why or exactly when. I was in early elementary school. I grew up in a really masculine household but I was always a different little boy and have had to try overly hard to learn how to act like a boy...it didnt come naturally really. I tend to think that in different circumstances I probably would have been really effeminate and probably transitioned when I was younger.
I had no brothers or sisters and knew almost nothing of what differentiated boys from girls - except clothing. This was back in the 1950s. I became more aware of girls when I entered my teens and especially when I began to notice how they changed from "little girl clothes" into more adult attire. I was fascinated by the girls I saw on their way to school - the same age as me - as one-by-one they started to wear nylons instead of white or grey socks. Of course I knew my mother wore stockings and a girdle to hold them up - but I really didn't know about younger girls. What little information I had came from seeing women's magazines - we didn't even have mail-order catlogues at home.
One day I saw out of the corner of my eye a small group of girls waiting for their train just along the platform from me. They were obviously discussing their clothing because one of them lifted the hem of her school dress apparently to show the others either her stockings or her suspenders. It was only momentary but it set me wondering what it might feel like to wear nylon stockings. That day, when I arrived home from school to an empty house I took a pair of nylons from my mother's drawer and put them on. They felt good. Gradually, over the next few weeks I experimented further, first holding the stockings up with elastic bands, then putting on one of my mother's flared skirts. It was wonderful to feel the freedom of a skirt and the smoothness of the nylons. Unfortunately I didn't have access to the sort of suspender belts or roll-ons that those girls probably wore but curiosity got the better of me and I tried on a girdle. It was too big for me but tight enough to allow me to attach stockings so that, for the first time, I could experience just a little of what it was like to be a young girl.
I loved it. When I began to go out with girls I took a great interest in what they wore, especially the undewear and that, to some extent, satisfied my curiosity. Much later on, when I was working and could afford it, I was able to buy my own underwear of a more appropriate size and began to more closely experience what it must have been like for those girls. I could finally understand what they meant when they complained about a tight belt or girdle, uncomfortable bra straps, twisted nylons, nuisance suspenders, etc, etc. I also knew what it felt like to have the gentle, soft outer clothing of a woman but with what one of my girlfriends called "all this paraphernalia" underneath. Wonderful. It seemed natural to me.