For me, coming out was something I had to do MANY times.  I was born intersexed, so in effect, I had to come out when I was born.  Later, when I was about 2 years old, I remember making dresses out of vacuum cleaner bags, skirts out of towels, and so on.  When a little girl my own age moved in next door, I stopped playing with the boys, because I usually ended up bloody when I tried, and played with girls almost exclusively.  Even when I did play with boys, it was usually doing gentler indoor things, coloring books, telling stories, role play, and so on.  My parents knew even then, and let me play with girls as much as I wanted.

 

In first grade, I moved to a new school.  I started out playing with the girls, and soon had lots of girl friends.  That was fine until the day we started trading clothes with each other and the girl's mother saw me in her daughters dress, tights, panties, and Mary Janes.  I liked wearing the clothes, it felt like being hugged, I got goose bumps and was so relaxed.  I was not sexually aroused.  The mother didn't care, she didn't want me to play with ANY of the girls.  She called the school, told the principal and teacher not to let me play with girls anymore.  When the teacher sent me out to play with the boys, I got pelted by rocks the size of baseballs, some hitting me in the head, one nearly hitting me in the eye.  They say "Names will never hurt me", but when the name "Sissy" tells all of the boys where to throw the sticks and stones, the names can be almost deadly.  From 1st grade to 6th grade, I was hospitalized over 4 dozen times due to complications related to this type of harassment - often the violence was done under the supervision of the teachers.  I even have scars on my spinal column from one episode.

 

My mom caught me dressing up in her clothes when I was about 6 (2nd grade).  I cried, telling her how much I wanted to be a girl.  I told her that I had prayed for it, wished on a star, and anything else I could think of.  What I didn't know was that my parents were protecting me.  Back then, the "treatment" was electroshock, and back then, they just strapped you to the table, put a stick in your mouth, and you went through incredible pain, jerking and cramping until you finally "zapped out".  Mom had been through it and swore she would never let that happen to me.  Option 2 was a lobotomy, done through the eyes.  If that failed, the last resort was full frontal lobotomy, living as a vegetable.  Hormones and transition were not options.

 

In 6th grade, a friend saw my mom's teddy under my shirt when the shirt slipped.  I told him I wanted to be a girl.  He told all the other boys in Jr High that I was a "fairy", "queer", and similar choice words.  This started another 2 years of violence, inluding daily whippings in gym class.  It ended when I put the heel of my hand into the nose of one of the toughest hoods in school (he hit me on the head with a book, but I thought he had used a club of some sort).

 

In high school, it was easier to let the kids think I WAS gay than to admit that I wanted to be a girl.  I had lost so much when I did tell others, that I was afraid of losing all my friends.  When they were casting roles where a boy was supposed to play a girl (Auntie Mame & Charlie's Aunt), I told my drama teacher that I had always wanted to be a girl.  I didn't get the role, but I didn't lose my friends either.  She suggested I consider going to Colorado Women's College and Loretto Heights College to get into the theater program.  It was a chance to "be one of the girls" while still being a boy.  I ended up in Loretto Heights, and by the end of the first semester, they realized what I was.  They gave me two magazines, one with pictures of transvestites, the other with bondage themes.  The transvestites were really ugly - not she-males (she-male magazines wouldn't come out for another 10 years).  They were trying to tell me they accepted me, but I thought they were making fun of me.  At the same time, I let myself be a "little sister" the rest of freshman year.

 

In Sophomore year, I had a girl-friend.  She tried to seduce me, but I was too ticklish.  I had given her several orgasms and she wanted to reciprocate, but I was too ticklish and sensitive, it was even painful.  I became her "Lesbian lover", she even tried to get me to go to the Halloween party as a girl, but I was afraid I would get booted out of school, or get beat up by the stage crew or worse.  Later that night, I was sorry I hadn't.  Someone HAD come and was a beautiful girl, and when I saw her, I wanted to be that pretty too.  At the time I was 5'11", weighed 145 soaking wet, and had a 38 hip, 26 waist, and 38 chest.  My lover kept my secret, not wanting me to risk losing me to another girl.  She also had male lovers, different ones every night, but she always started each night with me, to get her in the mood.  She'd tell me about the boy of the night, and let me know she still loved me.

 

Junior year I met a girl and finally, at 21, lost my virginity.  She realized I made love like a woman and she enjoyed being dominant.  However, when she found out that I wanted to wear sexy clothing like hers, she dropped me the next morning - with a note on my windshield.  I only saw her once after that.

 

At almost 25, I moved in with a woman, a lover, and 3 weeks later, I told her about wanting to dress.  I thought I would be OK with being male since I now had a lover.  Since she accepted my feminine side, I thrived and grew into a lucrative career.  Once she got pregnant with the first child, she lost all interest in sex and 3 years later wanted to make love ONE NIGHT, and we had our second child.  A few years after that, she started having an affair, then wanted a divorce so she could marry her boyfriend.  I made them wait a year, just to make sure he was up to the task of husband and father, then offered to give away the bride.

 

I came to a company Halloween party and was harrassed for a year before quitting.  During the harassment period, I saved the company $2 billion total bottom line profit - PER YEAR, and my team won the Malcom Baldridge award for my work.  When I was put on probation, I was told that even if I produced another $2 billion/year in profits in the next 90 days, I would still be fired.  They would do everything they could to break my confidence and make me look incompetent.  Is was told that if I agreed to give them a termination date, I could 60 days, and they would stop all harassment.

 

During the divorce and harassment, I was seeing a gender counselor, who was giving me Real Life Experience assignments.  Not only was I doing the assignments, I was enjoying them, spending more and more time as Debbie.  By the time I got a new job, I was living as Debbie from 6 PM to 7 AM, on weekdays and ALL Week-end.  I met a woman who wanted a transsexual lover, and she enjoyed sharing me with her lesbian lovers.  I was finally "one of the girls", and was happier than I had ever been.  Unfortunately, she also wanted an alpha male lover, and he didn't want to share.  I ended up alone.

 

Shortly after this woman left, my ex-wife showed me a letter from a social worker at her church, stating that my visitations were bad for the children and my visitation rights should be revoked or supervised (to assure I didn't see them as Debbie).  At the same time, she still wanted FULL child support.  I had to quit or lose my children forever.

 

When I quit going out as Debbie, I started gaining weight.  I didn't go back to the booze and drugs (have 33 years clean and sober), but I did end up shooting from 155 lbs to over 330 lbs, and having a minor heart attack.  I had a girlfriend who liked Debbie, but didn't want me to transition.  We also couldn't agree on living situations.  She wanted to spend summers in Provincetown Mass, and winter in the Catskills, and I needed to be near a major airport as part of my job.  We tried for 15 years, but could never complete.

 

When I was single again, I put pictures of Rex AND Debbie on my profile.  6 women were interested enough to go on dates, and 1 of them ended up becoming my wife.  She loves Debbie, especially as a lover, and loves it when Debbie goes into Neat mode (cleaning up the house, doing housework,...).

 

When my dad was dying, he asked me to "be yourself, even if that means being Debbie, I want to know who you really are".  For the rest of the time we had together, I was Debbie, taking care of him, loving him, making him comfortable.  He was so glad to mean the "Real Me" and so sorry he resisted earlier.  He also knew that I loved him, that I appreciated everything he had done for me, and how much he loved me.  As I was scratching his back, he asked "When did you learn to take such good care of me?" and I said "From you dad, from you".  He was out of it the rest of the day and went away the next morning.

 

He told me secrets he had kept for 55 years, including that they got married because mom was pregnant (lost the baby later).  He didn't tell me if they had offered to make me a girl when I was a baby, but I doubt they even offered him the choice.  I didn't have testacles, but I had a penis, so I was a boy, period.

 

After dad died, I started thinking about transition again.  I realized that I wasn't getting any younger.  My wife told me I had to stop dressing like a slut, and wouldn't let me go out unless I was conservatively dressed.  It took me a few months to realize that I would never get the chance to be young and pretty, and for a while, I even considered suicide again.  Instead, I went back to gender counseling and started hormones.  Today, I look like a 50+ old lady, which is OK, since I'm 57, but I also realized that I could go out with very little effort and pass completely as and older woman.  I even grew my hair out, and now even with no make-up and my natural hair (receding hairline and all), I look so much like a woman most of the time, that even young girls and children direct me to the women's room if I try to use the mens (because I'm not "Dressed").

 

At this point, it takes some effort to pass as a man.  Lee still wants me to try at family events and at church.

This post was edited by Deborah Ballard at February 20, 2018 8:47 PM GMT

What a tale, Debbie. Well done you - what courage!

 

Best,

Amanda

same 4 me!

 

I come out more and more every day but I have officially been "out" for about 10 years now. 

This post was edited by Kelly Michaels at February 10, 2018 2:28 PM GMT