In a continuation of the series first published on Crossdresser Heaven, I explore my earliest transgender memories.
To get where you’re going it’s critical to know where you are, and often helpful to know where you’ve been. I must confess that much of my childhood is shrouded in the fog of memory, but I will strive to share those moments which shine brightest in my mind’s eye.
Crossdressing Childhood Dreams
My earliest memory of being different was when I was about five years old. I can remember it as if it was yesterday. I was besotted with the idea that I would wear my mother’s nightie to bed, yet knew that this desire was wrong. At such a tender age I have no idea how I knew that it would be frowned on, though I’ve heard other ladies say that they were similarly aware at a young age.
As much as a five year old could, I hatched a plan. Early in the evening I would smuggle my mom’s nightie from her room and hide it in the hallway closet. When she came to check on me before going to bed I would pretend to be sleeping, and then wait the tortuously long while until my parents went to bed. Once they were soundly asleep I would sneak out to get the nightie, put it on and enjoy a night of bliss.
I must say that I’m quite surprised my plan went off without a hitch, and the next morning I changed back and reversed the “nightie from mom’s room to hallway closet” routine. I remember feelings of anticipation, excitement and then a deep abiding calm as I drifted off to sleep in her nightie.
Crossdressing in Bathing Suits
Still in early childhood I recall one day when a neighborhood girl came to play and then sleep over. In the afternoon sunshine I convinced her to trade bathing suits before running to the pool and jumping in. We bounced around in the water, and I remember loving every moment of it. I was scared that my mom would think something was amiss, yet delighted when she noticed our swap with what I can only imagine was a joyful laugh at the innocence of youth.
Later in the evening we tried to swap pajamas, but the lack of any expandable material in hers meant they didn’t fit. I grudgingly spent the night in my own PJs. My first blocked crossdressing moment, and transgender disappointment…
Crossdressing Party – It’s Allowed!
One of my fondest crossdressing memory came not too many years after the bathing suit event. I’m not sure how old I was, at best I can remember I was about nine or ten. A neighborhood girl (she who was generous with her bathing suit) was throwing a “Crossdressing Party” for her birthday. Everyone had to come crossdressed as the opposite gender, and I went as a Hawaiian hula girl, complete with grassy skirt and appropriate chest coverings.
I had died and gone to heaven and then died again and gone to heaven’s heaven. I still remember my mom telling my to “sway my hips” as we walked around their pool for the final judging. I ended up winning the prize for “best crossdressed boy” (the girls had a similar prize). I don’t recall how I acted after that, though I suspect a combination of hesitant joy and uninterested aloofness. Crossdressing was a fun thing to laugh about, not something to truly enjoy…
All I Want For Christmas
The last memory from my childhood was about a Christmas wish almost fulfilled. Like many youngsters we wrote letters to Santa asking him in our most polite and grateful way what we would like for Christmas. As was routine, we would write the letter, mom would read it and then we’d put it in an envelope and mail it to the North Pole.
I couldn’t have been much older than eleven, when I remember desperately wanting a dress for Christmas. Somehow I knew that telling my mom I wanted a dress was not a wise course of action. I had planned to wait until after she read my Christmas list and then discretely add “A Dress” at the end of the list before mailing it to Santa. After all, what harm could come if Santa brought me a dress? It would be Santa’s fault, not mine.
Unfortunately I chickened out at the last minute. I’m not sure why – perhaps I was afraid that Santa would tell my parents, or that mom would take one last look at the list before I could safely wrap it in an envelope. Whatever the reason, I remember a sense of lost opportunity that Christmas morning despite my abundance of gifts that included a really neat Capsela building kit [Hey, I’ve always been a geek in my feminine heart…]
The rest of my early childhood fades back into time. I vaguely remember times I sat longingly watching my mom applying makeup. Perhaps it was just an imagined fantasy, but I seem to recall her doing my hair or letting me play with her makeup. Things would only get more interesting when I took my first tentative steps into adolescence…
What memories do you have of your early crossdressing childhood?
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