I'm 57 years old, 5'7" - 140, light reddish-brown hair and blue eyes.  I've been dressing in soft and delicates since around age 8 or so.  Discovered my parent's stash of porn about a year later and was always drawn exclusively to women alone and lesbian lovers.  Went nuts every time the new Sears Catalog arrived.
When puberty hit me at age 10, my nipples became swollen and so delightfully sensitive and tender that I couldn't keep my fingertips off them.  Then they began leaking fluid that would dry all stiff on the inside of my little boy's white cotten underskirts ~ sometimes even soaking through to make a wet stain on my outer shirt.  I was mortified ~ and mesmerized.  At that very moment in my life I wanted to have delicate, supple, exciting to fondle breasts more than anything else in the entire world.  My saddest day was when I realized that that particular phase of puberty was finished and "boy" hormones had won the competition ~ no breasts for me.  From that time on, I envied every genetic female the soft sensuous pleasures inherent in her nipples ~ and I was also convinced that the level of bliss-filled ecstacy connected to clitoral-masturbation must surely be a thousand times more "internally" thrilling than my experiences with hurry, hurry, hurry little-boy jerk-off sessions ~ spewing sticky goo all over the place and then having to clean it all up so as to leave no telltale traces - YUK!
Trick-or-treating time would come and I'd always want to go out dressed as a girl.  One time a husband and wife debated for about 10 minutes as to whether I was a boy or a girl.  The man kept saying, "Look at those calves and ankles ~ that's a girl's leg!"  I was thrilled beyond my ability to explain it.  Then, (and still to this day) my own mother frequently refers to me as "Evelyn" in an absentedminded, "Oops I mean Jay" kind of way.  Over the years it's become a family joke.
Anyhow, that was the way I came to my life-long, endlessly guilt-ridden journey into the realm of crossdressing, (numbed by 20-plus years of alcoholism), and then hormonal transgenderism (straight and sober for 13 years now ~ thank you very much).  I have no idea what "label" fits my outlook or destination.  I am a man of 57 years ~ so my point of view and reference is male.  In my head and heart I have always been more female ~ and never, ever had the nerve to say it aloud anywhere but right here, right now.  I do not wish to become a "woman" ~ I will become a "man" with feminine features, a becalmed spirit and no necessity whatever to run with the "Big Dogs" just because I've got nuts.
My wife knows about my dressing.  Knows I dress when she's at work.  We've come to an accord:  Don't ask.  Don't tell.
She does not know about any of my transitioning activities ~ she's already made it known loud and clear she'd want nothing to do with a "tranny-queer" ~ for why else would a man want to resemble a woman if not to attract men?
When we make love though, and she kisses my nipples because she knows I enjoy it (I almost swoon with delight) she believes it makes her a better lover ~ little does she know that if she wanted to be the world's MOST PERFECT lover, she'd allow Jay&Jayne to exist on the same plane, simultaneously ~ with enough recognition to be allowed to come out into the light and live and breath and be the best friend a woman could ever have.  Such irony !!!