I guess it truly started for me around 4 or 5. Before I was old enough for school. I knew the difference between boy and girl, kinda, but I just knew that I was supposed to be a girl. I played in the neighborhood with both, but really seemed to be having the most fun with the girls. I even told my Mom I was a girl, and was told to stop being silly. Then my older brother beat me up and teased me enough for me to learn to never speak of such things again. I would take pillowcases and towels and make dresses but I was careful to keep it a secret.
I did for almost 50 years.
Then one day after my second divorce I was cleaning out a closet and came across a wig my ex had left behind. At this point I had worn some womens clothing but it was a piece here or something there. Never attempted to try to go all the way. I decided to try and see.
I shaved my mustache, bought some makeup (all the wrong stuff....blue eye shadow ohhhh) got a complete outfit with shoes and all. I put it all on. I looked into a mirror and had a breakdown. For the first time in my life I saw.....ME. Yes I looked awful, but it was me in there. I must have cried for hours. The next day after thorough removal of all makeup and a shower, I could still see a girl in the mirror. I was terrified, if I could see it everyone else will too? Oh crap what had I done?
I had opened a door. A door that led to transition. Two years later here I am. I live as me, I am never treated any differently than other women, and unless I come in here I really don't think about it much, unless I am having sex. Then it is a bit of an issue, but not much.
