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I have a number of ailments which include ADD. This ailment has caused my memory to be rather like a good quality Swiss cheese, full of holes. I do not make this statement for sympathy or pity or as an excuse for who I am and my memories. I tell you this so you will understand that what memories I do have are either hazy or broken, almost like an excerpt from a novel, my novel of myself. But there are a few which burn brighter than all the stars in the heavens. Here we go!
I do have some memories of when I was in elementary school in Ohio not many just the ones imprinted because of a major event to me or the country. JFK and the funeral procession, LBJ being sworn in, landing on the moon and the one small step, Bobbie Kennedy and MLK assasinations, the riots in Detroit. But my personal memories were imprinted because of either a feeling that was overwhelming or a punishment for my behavior in school. Elementary school was traumatic for me because I was a little hellion. I was spanked by my teacher, then my principal, sent home and mom telling me to wait till your father gets home and then the belt with my father employing it with tears in his eyes.
These memories are some that have formed my early years and I learned from those memories. I also have a few overwhelming feelings attached to a few specific memories of panties, bras, and negligees with frilly lace and satin which were see through. Beautiful lingerie which grabbed my attention with such a feeling of femininity that something inside me melted, I felt softer inside, not gooey or mushy, but feminine. I needed to put them on and feel how this article of clothing felt against my bare skin. Just like some of the pictures in a Playboy magazine my father had stashed in the headboard I wanted these pieces of lingerie to make me beautiful. Well needless to say I was a bit small at 7 so they did not fit like the women in Playboy. Those beautiful women with wonderful breasts (boobies to me then) why did I not look like them. I have this thing between my legs and they did not. Can’t I be just like them? Afraid of the punishment I would receive because I was in my mother’s things and the Playboy of my fathers, so I bottled it up.
Looking back on this one memory I now realize that my gender dysphoria started that day in 1967. I couldn’t tell you other memories from the year of 67 except watching my father practice music with my uncle in our home. This one memory from all the times I dressed in a pair of panties or pantyhose, tried on and stuffed a bra with socks, or tried on a nightie of some type is the one which is most clear in my mind from my elementary school years. Why? Because I wanted to be like the women in the Playboy magazine. I wanted to be a girl and not have this thing between my legs, I wanted to have breasts (boobies).
Fast forward to high school in Washington state and I am still infatuated with women’s undergarments and lingerie. I desired to be the girl who wore those beautiful gowns to the big dances, those shoes to school, have my long hair styled like theirs ( although I did get my hair done at a styling salon but in a guys style), walk so smoothly in heels down the hall. I guess I was still wanting to be a girl even though I loved cars. airplanes and jets, hard rock (wait, all the girls liked hard rock too, lol), warships, tanks, climbing trees and making rope swings, riding horses and dirt bikes, playing sports and hunting/fishing. I lived an amazing set of teenage years and should have been a tomboy because I still felt wrong inside. Dating girls was more like just going to dances and meeting a friend who is a girl at the dance and dancing.
So a specific memory when I was 7 set the tone for the rest of my life. Buy and purge was a normal situation from high school until 6 years ago. 6 1/2 years ago I married a wonderful woman who accepts and supports me for who I am. I purged 6 months after we married so her youngest son of 13 would not find my prodigious wardrobe and accessories. Fast forward to this past May and I had a talk with her about the future of Danielle. My wife would leave our marriage if she felt she was holding me back from becoming who I am and I don’t want to lose her so I am content with just dressing up and my breastforms are on the way. We talked about me and HRT and it is still a possibility but not at this time for many reasons which would take a mini series to give you the full idea of why. I love this woman and she is a good role model for this woman to emulate. She lets me dress as I please, normally kind of sexy just for her. Well maybe me too. Or as a normal woman in panties, bra, skirt and t-shirt and maybe some over the knee socks which are so pretty.
Thank you for reading this long post. It is poignant in so far as my beginnings of who I am as opposed to who I am supposed to be. All humans have yin and yang but for us we have more yang than yin and we wish to be female so much it causes this frustration and longing within ourselves but only a few outsiders truly understand what it feels like to be trapped in a body which is not yours. God bless you and keep you all, my sisters. Love ❤️ and hugs 🤗
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