I remember that I told my dad when I was five that I´m really a girl and he spanked me. After that I understood that the matter is a taboo and continued the conversation only with God. My sister says she understoods now many things, why I was totally different. As a teenager I moved along with other girls, as one of them. I remember staying overningt with two girls here or there. Never having sex with them. They had their boyfriends and we shared secrets about the guys.
At 25 I made the fatal decision to live as a man...because there was no way out. Until my life became impossible...

Laura

Hi, luvs--

The odd thing for me lately is that, though I know I grew up "male", memories of that time are changing slightly. I see myself as the girl I should have been, doing those things that actually happened. (And truly, if you were to see a picture of me at that time, I looked like a girl. Which also explains a lot of other things.)

Also--I am finding memories(?) of things that I know did not and could not have happened...yet seem very real to me. Things like dances I went to as a girl, guys I dated, etc. Perhaps my subconscious processing what should have been?

All of which brings me to my point: I don't have a disturbing view of my youth. Granted, it was disturbing enough; getting the crap beat out of you on a regular basis by your classmates and told to buck up by the folks was not condusive to a happy time in my life. But, it was what it was--and knowing now what I do about myself not only explains things, but allows me to better function as the woman I've become.

Luv 'n hugs,
Dr. Mina Sakura

...and just as equally, I can remember trying The Momma's makeup on--she wasn't too thrilled, but didn't get overly angry....

Mina

I remember trying on panty hose and girdle when I was 13 I think.

Kim

At 25 I made the fatal decision to live as a man...because there was no way out. Until my life became impossible...

I thought about living as a woman when I was 30.. then 40... now I'm 50 still considering...

Kim

Kim, honey--

Never give up thinking about it.

I haven't....

Mina

At school guys told me I throw the ball like a chick...and that I have too broad hips for a boy. And the funny thing was, I was actually happy with these comments. As later on in my life when I was mistaken for a woman, for example got mail for Ms. The most odd thing was that a doctor wrote me an international vaccination passport and wrote there "female", already 24 years ago. I was happy about that and said nothing about the mistake. Every normal man would have got furious to be marked female by mistake.

Laura

Funny! I was in the hospital about two years ago and when I recieved my discharge papers I noticed I was listed as F. Made me smile as I haven't changed yet. So glad you are still here Laura!

When I was 6, my older sister and brother and I were playing "Dress UP". I, (of course) wanted to play the mommy so I got dressed in some of my sisters old clothes. But I put on her training bra, panties, found an old garter belt and folded a pair of stockings down about 4 times and hooked them to the garterbelt. put on a pair of my sisters old sandals and dress and was playing that way. Mom called me downstairs for something and I went downstairs that way. Mom's eyes got the size of saucers! Then she started giggling
and then said "DON'T EVER! Let your father see you like that!!
I was smart enough to listen, He'd have killed me! But I loved it! I was just being me! Jackie....

My mother caught me so many times in my sisters clothes and playing with her Barbies she constantly reminded me that I was a boy. Old christmas movies that my father took shows my mother taking the dolls away from me and me crying my eyes out cuz I couldn't have them. Today, she still brings that up and says that they thought that maybe I should had been a girl. I honestly think she knows the truth. As an adult, same as a child I am always female in my dreams. Oh, and my older brother caught my once at around age ten with a bra on with oranges in the cups.

I never got caught playing with my sister's Liddle Kiddles--but I did get busted for being in her room when she wasn't....

Mina Trivia Tidbit: Because I was the youngest of three and thus couldn't be left at home alone, I went to my sister's Girl Scout/Brownie meetings. I still have (somewhere) my merit badges for cooking, sewing, and what is now camping/outdoor lore. It's true...I was a Girl Scout!

Luv 'n hugs,

Mina

I never had any sisters but I would get girls clothes from
somewhere and wear them. The first panties I ever
saw was over at my cousin's house of three girls and
they were holding up some of the nylon brief
panties that they got for Christmas.
I wanted to take them out of their hands and put them on.
I did get to peek in one of their dresser draws one time.
One of my cousins was also a cheerleader so I got to
her cheerleader "spankies" that she showed everybody.
And then I started living full-time in 1992.

Randi

Wendy: It seems to be one of the main reason we come here and share isn't it. We see just how many others actually went through the exact or close to the exact same things as we grew up.
That is one of the reasons I love it here so much. I found I wasn't the "ONlY ONE", in virtually ANY of the things I did. Sad we couldn't have all met each other in those days. Bunch of little "Girls" running around playing Barbies and having tea parties, fashion shows! If you think about it for a second, you WILL have to smile!!! I know I sure did...... Jackie....

Hmm.....firstly, at infants school (awww), at the tender age of 5, the school play was seriously lacking in the woodland animals department...maybe my mop of ringlets gave be a cherub-like appearance, who knows, but somehow, I got asked to do rabbit-duty. I think it was a rabbit anyway, it definately wasn't a badger, I would have remembered a badger...AAANNNYWAY, it was a brown woodland creature I had to represent (no white breast gags, purrr-lease), and brown tights with leotard over the top was the order of the day. I feel sure that the sensation of being encased in fabric led me to my vocation today of clothes-pattern-cutter, as well as the obvious TV associations. I blushed like a woodland animal at the time, and was trying to fight the grin spreading across my face at the time. Ahhhhh happy days

Another time was seeing Phil Oakey out of the Human League, on Top Of The Pops Xmas number one "Don't You Want Me Baby", with more monochrome make up on than the backing singers put together It jarred me, and I remember thinking "That's soooooo wrong, yet sooooooooo right".

Couple of Months later, my sister decided to make me over as Prince-Charming era Adam Ant, without the trademark white stripe, but with other tribal markings, in red and blue. I blushed again, as you would if you knew your dad was returning home from work But hey, no harm done My later experiments and recreations of my sisters maquillage, but with powder paint, introduced me to the fact that I might have sensitive skin....hmmm.

I wasn't a huge fan of Adam Ant, but enough of a fan to run around the lounge chanting the hook line from "The Human beings" from the lp"Kings OF The Wild Frontier" ("Blackfoot - Cheyenne-Cheynne-CROWWW!-APACHE-ARAPO!")

Or as the man himself wrote in the eponymous lp title track "No method in our madness (HEY, HEY, HEY!), Just proud about our manner (HEY HEY HEY !) Antpeople are the warriors (HEY HEY HEY !) Antmusic is the banner !!! (HEY HEY HEY !)

Who said the Eighties wern't inspirational? And don't even get me started on Grandmaster Flash

I'm perhaps much the same as a lot of girls. My first real memories of wearing female clothes are from my early teens. I know I often played with my sister's toys from about age 10. That has now been proved wrong by my dad. As he loves his new found daughter he has told me that he and my late mother knew that I had girly inclinations when I was about 4 years old and that I was trying on female clothing well before I was 10. When I joined the army at 16 and 1/2 they thought I'd grow out of it all and become a true man. Now I'm in my 50s I'm becoming the girl of my dreams when I was 4. The childhood memories are coming back, especially the more Alina talks with her dad.

Wendy--

Your last post got me to thinking...in some cases my folks were perhaps more understanding than I've given them credit for. By allowing me to "explore" certain options that were decidedly not traditionally masculine (i.e., feminine), I can see that perhaps they know and/or understand more than I have ever known....

Then again, maybe not. It's hard to know exactly for sure until I come out to them....

Luv 'n hugs,
Mina

My parents wanted a girl from the start. But they had a boy, then another, then another, then me. I guess everyone knew what they wanted cause one of the Nuns at the hospital said I was so pretty I should have been a girl. I've heard that story my whole life. Then when I was about 6 or so, I had a coboy doll, I took him everywhere, he was my friend much like a barbie might be to girls. When my dad got home from Nam, I found it in the back yard decapitated. I am the small fry of all the boys in my family of 8. I even have younger sisters that are bigger then me. I used to wear my sis's panties at night and hide them in a jacket pocket in the closet. one day she was looking for them, and I produced them for her. She laughed, hell everyone did. Like everyone else here, I can't help feeling the way I do, I am going into the new year with a goal of not being ashamed of myself and actually look happier, cleaner, heathier and yes, I will tell any anyone with a smart ass coment where to get off. Thanks for being here girls. It is great to read and maybe even someday meet some of you. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and most of all, Thank you from the bottom of my hearts.
Heather

I remember when I was perhaps 4 borrowing my sister's blue tutu and going around in it just for fun. My parents just thought it was funny.

It's really hard to remember all the things that happened. Peaple asking me or my mom if I was a little boy or girl, my older brothers being protective, my sisters understanding when I returned her panties....I just don't know... but I do know I want to be free, free of predujice and ridicule, free from exspectatons that aren't me. It's not like I want to be a glamore queen or set a standard for others. I just want to be me. Here I am, at 48, wanting to be able to wear a skirt when I want and when appropriate, but also wanting to go fight for freedom that others have never know. What to do, what to do....

my 1st time telling my dad i was a girl....you ever wonder what it is like getting hit by a freight train doing 90 miles an hour ?...i know longer have to wonder how that feels...i know 1st hand..when i told my dad i was a girl he broke my nose..i never saw the second blow....it knocked me plum out....when i woke up with him standing over me in a rage that would have backed down king kong i saw death in those eyes so for ten years i kept brandi rose away from him...not much of a memory but your topic asked for the 1st time telling your dad..

hun what brought brandi back was the death of my son....brandon died in my arms when he was 4 hours and 12 min old......i took my name brandi from brandon....i knew that brandon was my treasure...and sence god called brandon home then my treasure had to be brandi rose...so brandi rose came alive that day never to return to the closet....

I was 7yrs old when my mother first put me in a dress. She continued frequntly till I went to high school. I became a CD when I was 14 after I left home. Years later all the tests showed I was probably a TS. Too late to have the op now. If I was younger definitely yes! I have now lived enfemme for 11 years I am now 65yrs old.Retired But I have worked part time as a woman in sales,
Joanna

Are you sure the op is for you too late? I had mine when I was 59 in Phuket, Thailand and my surgeon Dr. Sanguan operates people up to 70 on regular basis.

Laura

I was probably 9 or 10 when I tried on my mother's pantyhose. I remember being really excited about how they felt on my skin. So much that I went outside and ran around the house with them on! Too bad they were the only thing that really fit me, sort of.

When I was in high school I would come up with excuses for keeping my girlfriend's lingerie, like, "I want something to remember you by." Not knowing that I secretly coveted these items for myself.

It is the gestaldt of these many life experiences, I'm given to seek and wonder on. What do all these experiences mean?

Often when I write, it is the context as much as the event or that that I want to include. Is there, for those who have studied this, a need for us to share such private - intimate - moments of our lifes. So, here I sit in the booth of coffee shop, just off the campus of the University of Waterloo. The music in my headphones makes this public place private for me, as if when I look up, I am looking through a window into the world of others.

It is so strange that all the memories and events of my childhood, the things I did that I now see that others did, which severed me from the world are now events and memories that are shared and make me part of a community.

I wonder if our desire to share these experiences is a form of personal absolution - forgiving ourselves for the shame or self-loathing that we felt, and to do that we must share. Are these scars that bind us together or show that we have 'paid our dues' and are worthy to be here.

In another site, at that time that I first acknowledged that I might be transexual, I was berated for not having been through enough hardship to claim that title. It was curious that somehow a life lived 'in the closet' didn't seem to qualify.

I have often looked back and wondered if somehow, these 'impulses' truly existed or whether it was some strange way that I chose to punish myself.

Every memory I read takes me to some memory - however unrelated - of my own. I remember as a child summer days so humid you sweat even sitting still, sqiunting painfully in the sunlight, the fair skin above my knees pink and tender from the sun. I would escape this world for the basement of our house, to the laundry. It was cool, almost chilly and dim. A single bulb illuminated the room and it was here, a respite from the world of 'others' outside that I would carefully sort and fold my mother's and sisters' clothes. When I try to reach back into the mind of the child in that room, I cannot recall my feelings. Somehow, I knew that what I did was 'wrong' and to be kept secret.

My quest now on the brink of abandoning a whole life, and the investment I've placed - or misplace - in it, is to wonder how all these points line up and what they mean.

Ann--

Your post does give one something to think about... has anyone ever told you that you have the soul of a philosopher?

I wonder if our desire to share these experiences is a form of personal absolution - forgiving ourselves for the shame or self-loathing that we felt, and to do that we must share. Are these scars that bind us together or show that we have 'paid our dues' and are worthy to be here.

I'd have to say both yes and no to this thought. No--it has nothing to do (in my opinion) with one's worthiness to be here. Anyone can be here, if they care to join; this is a "free" membership, in that all one must be is transgender , transsexual, a crossdresser or an admirer or significant other of the above.

Yes--in that we have found that we have certain shared experiences, that have set us apart from many other people. In that, we are a unique people group. We have a common bond, a common set of experiences, a common meeting ground, and in a sense, a common language.

What do these experiences mean? They mean that we either are finder or have found that we are the women we have always suspected we have been--we just didn't know it at the time. That's not a bad thing, dear...it just simply is. At the same time, reading of other's experiences brings back more memories, and acts as a focus to explain other things in our collective, as well as our individual, pasts.

luv 'n hugs,

Mina

This all makes me wonder....

If I hadn't been moved every few years or less as a kid, and learned to bury my feelings about what I had lost, what would I have felt that instead got buried along with the other things. I remember trying to play with one of the neighbor girls during my pre-teen years and feeling compelled to a very macho "husband" role instead of just relaxing and enjoying her game. I bet I was shoveling dirt on top of my real feelings as fast as I could. The message I got was clear. It was not all right for me to not be macho and therefore not OK to be me.

My sister had a closet full of skirt sets. From the age of 10 to 14 they fit perfect. So I'd stay home from school at least once a month & dress allday.

I just got this sudden flash from reading all your stories in this thread. How I did things like that growing up, certain I was the lone wierdo/freak in the world....and I was never really alone...you were all out there too...somehow it retroactively makes it all ok and makes me feel better about those times. In a way, they have become "shared" times. Thank you.

Stephy,

It's sad that your mom's behavior would pass for a high degree of acceptance compared to what most T-girls faced growing up. You were fortunate.

Trisha,

When people are not told what to believe, they tend to see the truth.

Interesting thread. I think I started dressing up when I was about 13 (in other words I am a late developer compared to some on this site). I don't remember very much about my teenage years, but there are some high points - not least getting to play the part of a French maid in a school revue, borrowing the clothes off a rather sexy neighbour called Steph, and pulling on the stockings and shoes in the changing room with the other boys (it was an all boys school) just gaping at me. I felt most indescribably wonderful, until I had to take the clothes off again.

I knew Steph had the clothes, because I'd seen her wearing them, and I used to babysit for her, and borrow at least her shoes for the evening.

The other thing I remember was a conversation with a school friend called Frances, who said to me out of the blue that she thought I would look good in women's clothes. I was thrown by this and didn't follow it up. But just think if I'd responded positively: she would have let me borrow her clothes and she would have showed me how to do make-up. The whole of my life could have been very different.

Don't you just want to kick Yourself in the butt, Catherine. I'll never forget my SO saying "You should have told me twenty years ago. You missed out on some great clothes." Agggggggh!

This month she brought me a stack of clothes, a bag of jewelry, and shes coming by Firiday with a "Xmas Present" andto take me shopping and she menitioned how she had had trouble finding a nightgown for me. Yep, you want to just hit yourself up the side of the head, lol.

All I got to be in the school play was a drum.....with a hole in my side: "Now look what you've done".

Trish

When I was in my teens it was the style for guys to weart thier hair long. I was often referred to as Miss or young lady.
Like you I realy liked it but was afraid I was being read.
To solve the problem I had my hair cut.

If I new then what I know now I'd have been taking steps to go out as a girl. Maybe I'd have lived my life different.

That's a terrible thing to have happen, Brandi. It's almost impossible to find something to say in response to it, but I could not bring myself to turn away from the horror of it. To have one's own father do that to you. You said that you hid Brandi for ten years. What happened then?

Ann,
Those that claim you are not transsexual merely because of how you live/lived your life seem to me to be like those who would claim someone is not Jewish if they don't practice Judaism actively. This, position is erroneous. You are Jewish if you are born Jewish and you are transsexual if you are born transsexual. You do not need a number-tattoo on your wrist to be Jewish. You do not have to have experienced Dachau to be Jewish. You do not even have to have known what you are. You just need to be born that way. (Yes I know about conversion so lets not get into a religious discussion folks).