Friday, September 13, 2019

A Festival for Men as Ladies

It does not take me long to browse the Internet and find something completely different. Such is the case with a recent find related to crossdressing.

Ever hear of Kottankulangara Festival?


The Kottankulangara Festival is an annual Hindu festival in Kerala, India, where thousands of men irrespective of their religious faith dress as women. The festival takes place at the Kottankulangara Devi temple at Chavara, Kerala, which is sacred to the goddess Bhagavathy. Every year this festival is celebrated on the 10th and 11th day of Meenam (mid-March).

On the festival day thousand of devotees visit the Temple to seek the blessings of the Goddess Bhagavathy. The men dress up in the female attire of their choice. Some wear Set saari, Pattu saari, half saari and even dance costumes.

Chamayavilakku is also a much-anticipated event for the members of transgender community, as it offers them an opportunity to celebrate their real identity. During the past few years, there has been a steady inflow of trans persons not just from Kerala, but all parts of the country.

Around 4000 people participate in the Chamayavilakku.

Wow!

Crossdressing blessed by the church!

Can you imagine if the Catholic Church sponsored a Blessed Virgin Mary Festival where men dressed as women to seek the blessings of Saint Mary?

I can picture the exploding heads of evangelicals from sea to shining sea.




Source: Paige
Wearing Paige




Femulating at the Kottankulangara Festival.
Femulating at the Kottankulangara Festival.

Tuesday, September 10, 2019

Out Finally

I made a promise to myself that as soon I was finished with physical therapy, I was going to have a girl's day out. My final physical therapy session was last Tuesday, so I checked my calendar and this Tuesday was open.

Lazy girl that I am, I did not maintain a clean shaven body all summer because I knew I was not going out anytime soon. So Monday afternoon I took on the task of removing a summer's worth of body hair.

The Philips Norelco Bodygroomer I bought last year made the job easy and in about an hour, my body was hairless again. Truth be told, my legs have been shorn so many times during the past 55 years that there is not much growing there anymore, so most of the hair removal was on my arms and torso and just a few tufts of hair on my knees and toes.

Tuesday morning, I shaved my face, showered, ate breakfast, watched Morning Joe, did my makeup and got dressed. I wore the Calvin Klein floral scuba shift dress that I bought last time I shopped at Dress Barn in the spring. I felt it was appropriate to wear that dress because one goal for the day was to go to Dress Barn and use my gift cards before they shutter the store forever.

The high heels I chose were loose and kept slipping off my feet. My wife warned me that my feet would shrink if I lost weight and I guess she was right. Thirty pounds lighter, I had to try on four pairs of shoes until I found a pair that was less prone to slipping off my feet.

The solution was a compromise because there still was some slippage and by day's end, my feet were tired from gripping my shoes all day long. I guess it's time to go shoe shopping. (I so miss Payless!)

I drove to the Dress Barn in a strip mall that is a stone's throw from my former place of employment. I shopped there so often that I knew the staff by name and the staff knew me in girl and boy mode.

I began perusing the racks and I was greeted by the store manager. I told her about my lost summer and we discussed the demise of Dress Barn. I mentioned that I received a letter last week that my Dress Barn credit card would be no good after October 31, so I thought that might be the day they finally close all the stores. She thinks that the last day will be December 24, which makes more sense.

You would never know that the store was going out of business. The racks were full of fresh fall fashions and I took three dresses to the dressing room to try on. All three were size 14 and all three fit perfectly and to make matters worse, all three looked great on me!

I was afraid to try on anything else, so I avoided the racks and made a bee-line to the store representative staffing the cash register and burned through my gift cards.

I took my purchases to my Subaru, then drove to WestFarms Mall where I thought I could do some window shopping and if I got hungry, dine at Brio Tuscan Grille or P.F. Chang's. I perused the racks at Macy's and found another dress to die for, but lucky for my purse, they did not have it in my size.

After window shopping for a half hour, I was a little hungry and my feet were a lotta tired, so I flipped a coin and went to Brio for lunch.

Not too much to say about Brio. As usual, I was treated like a lady and the food was delicious. The waitress said my dress was "beautiful" and she applauded me for wearing heels as I exited the establishment.

Back home by 4 PM, I was tired, but exhilarated by my girl's day out. I will have to do it again real soon now.




Source: Boston Proper
Wearing Boston Proper




Kazik Mazur femulates Alicja Majewska on Polish television's Twoja Twarz Brzmi Znajomo.

Saturday, September 7, 2019

Zero to 60... in the wrong body

By Paula Gaikowski, Femulate Contributing Editor

Turning 60 this year has led to a lot of self-reflection. Anyone who is transgender knows many a night is spent laying awake at 3 AM wondering, imagining and wool-gathering over our mysterious puzzle.

A few nights ago, I found myself tracing the progression and struggle of Paula from an early age to now.

Some transgender persons come to the realization later in life. For me, I always wanted to be a girl. As soon as I knew the difference, I wanted to be over there.

I remember the first day of kindergarten, the boys and girls were separated into two lines with the girls all in pretty dresses and shoes. I was so envious.

Those early memories continued and at 6 or 7, I remember going to a Halloween party where there was a girl in a beautiful party dress.

I asked, “What’s your costume?”

“I am a girl,” the little boy replied. Stunned at the realization that this was a boy, I could not take my eyes off him as he ran around the room that night in a pink dress with crinolines, tights and Mary Janes.

Perhaps if I couldn’t be a girl, I could at least dress like one.

Next came the start of crossdressing and a more intense desire to be a girl.

During my first Holy Communion, the church was filled with 1st grade boys and girls — the boys in white suit jackets and the girls in beautiful white satin and lace dresses with veils. I was captivated and a few weeks later, I found my sister’s communion dress and tried it on. It became a favorite until I outgrew it.

I remember sitting in Mrs. Carlson’s 2nd grade classroom and wondering what it felt like to wear the tights that most girls wore. I started raiding my sister’s and mother’s closets trying on tights and any other dress or skirt I could find that fit. When I think back, this wasn’t something I did on occasion — I did this two or three times a week. This continued and by the time I was 11 years old, I had graduated to lingerie, pantyhose, high heels and make-up.

Through middle school and high school, I continued to crossdress on a very regular basis. After school from 3:15 to 5:00, it was all-clear to play girl to my heart’s content. I would often try to mimic styles and fashions that I had seen during the week in school. I became an expert putting things back the way I found them. However, as a parent myself now, I think they must have known.

During high school, I would read anything I could find written about “sex changes.” In a garage sale, I found an autobiography of Christine Jorgensen that I read in secret. I would scan newspapers and magazines for mentions of crossdressers or transsexuals. At 15 or 16, when others were making career plans, I was taking a sex change into account. Everything I read told me that surgery would cost several thousand dollars.

The Air Force solved many problems for me. It got me out of the house and gave me a chance to save enough money for a sex change. Yes, no kidding, that was my thought process at that age. That’s why I’ve written that in today’s environment, transition would have been a certainty.

So off I flew into the wild blue yonder. Basic training was difficult not because I was transgender but because I was naïve and lazy. Then off to technical school in Biloxi, Mississippi. Then to Germany, with a follow-on tour to Andrews Air Force Base. The whole process was good for me as I matured, traveled and gained technical experience.

These are typically the years when a person’s sexuality matures. I knew I was transgender; however, I was also fearful of being gay because of the hatefulness and disapproval for gay people around me.
I was captivated by women. A pretty girl would always catch my eye. Thank God, I’m not gay. How could I be when I felt that way about women.

I made the mistake of confusing admiration and envy, with lust and sexual desire. Here are a few examples of how this manifested itself during the four years I was in the Air Force. There wasn’t any shortage of the guys going out to strip clubs and brothels that surrounded most military bases in Germany. I can remember feeling so uncomfortable for the women in these strip clubs, I wanted to rescue them not lust after them.

I would accompany my friends to the brothels in Frankfurt and finally, I acquiesced and decided to lose my virginity one night. I was trying to prove something. I remember the beautiful young woman very well and once inside I could not do it. I gave her extra money to wait out my time and then make a great show of it to my friends waiting outside.

I was very good at making friends with and talking with women, but I would never close the deal so to speak. This happened all the time, talking, flirting, nothing. I never would make a move, ask her out, hold her hand or kiss her. Looking back now, I believe it was due to my instinct as a female deep down inside. I just didn’t get the male-female mating ritual. I wasn’t programed like the other guys.
I could list several examples, but for sake of brevity let me tell one. I worked in a communications control center and on days off, I would head to Shenandoah National Park where I would camp and hike. I worked with Rita, a girl from upstate New York who also loved the outdoors. We hit it off well and talked about camping, hiking and kayaking in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

I missed all the clues that she was sending because I was surprised to see her ride up to the campsite on her motorcycle. Long story short, dinner, a few beers by the campfire and lights out in the tent with her on one side and me, the gentlemen on the other. This is how oblivious I was! It never dawned on me she was there to hook up. A few months later, she asked why I hadn’t done anything that night. My answer “I dunno” and I really didn’t know.

Just before I got out of the Air Force, I had this bizarre affair with a lesbian who I worked with. She and I were heavy drinkers and partiers at the time and would often wind up in bed. Nothing ever happened, but I had a big-time crush on her. We would sleep together several nights a week and yes, just sleep. I realize now she was using me as cover — back then, if you were gay you were out of the military and they actively looked for and prosecuted gay persons.

Now it’s 1981 and I’m back home in New Jersey. I find a job at a computer company. My first paycheck comes. I cash it and go to the Willow Brook mall and buy a dress, shoes, hosiery and lingerie. All too small, so I purged.

My life began to revolve around work, drinking and hunting with my redneck buddies. I hardly even thought about being a girl. At work, I met my future wife. We talk, flirt and again nothing. We talk, we flirt and she calls me. Boom — we are off and running. She lets me wear her bra one night and she even buys me some lingerie — WOW!

This is perfect. I’m in love. We marry and off we go. However, what I thought was approval turned out to be tepid toleration. For a number of years, we would go forward and then backward. A few months of encouragement would then be met with resentment

Just to emphasize how strong my dysphoria was, I remember the morning of my wedding, being a bit melancholy, thinking well this means I’ll never be a woman.

A wonderful marriage, family, career, home, it was all there except for this one little problem of gender dysphoria. There were periods where depression would bury me. I kept myself busy with career, home maintenance, church, non-profits, elderly parents and child care.

Still, as I did when I was 8 years old, I would seek refuge, a few taboo moments of sanctuary dressed as a woman. When keeping busy didn’t work, overeating and drinking were brought in to cloud the ache.

Isolated, confused, and trans, I would sometimes stop and buy Drag magazine. I would read it hidden away in the back of a New York City deli or sometimes take my lunch on a bench near Trinity Church in the shadow of the twin towers. In relative anonymity, I would enter into a world where there were others like me.

In the mid 1990’s, along came the Internet and with it, a connection to a community and finally, information and answers. My world began to open up.

My crossdressing became an unspoken truth in our marriage, seldom directly addressed and sometimes talked about disparagingly. Don’t ask, don’t tell became the model for dealing with the issue. In my late 40’s, I entered a dark period sinking into deep depression along with anxiety attacks.

When I hit 50, I was overweight, drinking too much and in bad health. Finding an objective and informed person, you can discuss, share and solve your issues, which was a key ingredient in my journey. In my case, this was Dr D. I no longer saw being transgender as a problem to be solved. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I cast off society’s condemnation of being transgender and realized that I am a good person and that part of my personality and character involves being transgender. Attributes I see missing in many men, such as nurturing, kindness, compassion and cooperation are parts of my personality that I believe come from my feminine side.

Through the years, I had worked so hard and sacrificed so many things for so many people in my life. Now at 50, the one thing I wanted most, the one thing that had nagged at me since childhood was going to be left unanswered. I could not do it. I could not let it go. I needed to express that woman who I knew lived inside me. I may never transition, but I needed to experience the world as a woman in some way.

In 2009, I was emerging from the darkness of yet another crossdressing purge. But as any transgender person knows, purging doesn’t work. My need for feminine expression had returned with a vengeance. I had once again accumulated a wardrobe and around this time, I started traveling for business. I started going to M·A·C stores and found acceptance and support.

Next, I started shopping for clothes while I was in drab and I was surprised to find that the sales associates were enthusiastic and supportive when I told them I was transgender. City after city, I began to accumulate everything I needed.

Finally, in Memphis after visiting Graceland, I saw it in a strip mall a store named Graceland Wigs. The last piece I needed was a wig. With my new-found confidence, I entered the store and was overwhelmed by hundred of wigs lining the walls. After a few minutes of awkward browsing I came clean with the store owner and was soon sitting in a chair in front of a mirror trying on wigs and telling her my story. She was a bit of a character and after about two hours trying on dozens of wigs, I left the store with advice earned through a lifetime of hardship, an overabundance of amusing anecdotes, guidance on being a woman and a cute pageboy style brunette wig.

A few weeks later, I would step out of my hotel room in Denver and not look back. For the next eight years, I would travel all over the country and the world and during my free time, I would explore the world as a woman. I would shop, get M·A·C makeovers, meet friends for dinner, attend a transgender conference, visit the doctor, attend concerts and visit museums. I would go out as a woman in the UK, Canada and Australia. It was also during this time I started writing for Femulate. Those were glorious times and I began to feel somewhat fulfilled.

In 2016, I began having trouble with my back and it became chronic. I began to overeat and drink. The weight came on and the pain grew worse. I stopped dressing. I entered into a dark period with pain and along with it, a sense of despair and hopelessness.

In 2019, post-surgery, I am now coming back. I am eating healthy and I’m off sugar and junk foods. My back feels great and I started building back my wardrobe. I’m writing for Femulate again and feel a sense of renewal and hope. Where the next few years lead? Who knows? But Paula will be there.
That’s my story — the evolution of a human who is transgender. How I dealt with it and how I continue to deal with it.

Keep reading.



Source: Rachel Zoe
Wearing Rachel Zoe




Stan Laurel
Stan Laurel femulates in the 1927 film Sugar Daddies.

Wednesday, September 4, 2019

Back to Normal

After eight sessions of physical therapy, I feel great... a few pounds lighter and pretty much back to normal. Which reminds me of femulating at work seven years ago.

When my boss arrived that day, I made a bee-line to her cubicle, saying "Happy Halloween" as I entered.

I took about a half minute before she recognized me and she was ecstatic. She checked me out and gushed over my appearance.

"He shaved his legs."

"He even did his nails."

"I hate him --- he looks better than me."

"I want your dress when you are done with it."

She took my photo and e-mailed it to some of our colleagues in our other facility. Throughout the morning, she brought people to my cubicle to show me off.

I never saw her act like this before. She was enjoying my femulation as much as I was.

Next day, my boss saw me back in boy mode and remarked, "Thank, God, you're dressed normal today."

I responded, "What's normal?"




Source: Venus
Wearing Venus




Vince Gatton
Vince Gatton femulating Candy Darling in the 2006 stage production of Candy and Dorothy.

Tuesday, September 3, 2019

It's the Little Things

By Sally Stone

Last week when I was out as Sally, I stopped by a local coffee shop to satisfy my caffeine craving. I ordered a cappuccino and the young girl who waited on me asked my name for the order. She was extremely pleasant and I could tell by her demeanor that she liked my presentation. It’s always nice to be acknowledged for my efforts, even when the acknowledgement is as simple as a smile and a nod.

Anyway, flash forward to last night, when I stopped at the same coffee shop after a dinner outing. This time a young man took my drink order; the girl that had waited on me the last time was working drive-through. Yet despite her being quite busy, she took the time to walk over and say, “Hi, Sally.”

It was a little thing, I know, but sometimes it’s those little things that leave the most lasting impressions. I was flattered by her making the effort to come say hello to me and it was even more meaningful that she remembered my name. Up to that point, I’d had a wonderful day expressing my femininity, but her simple act of seeking me out and calling me by my feminine name was the absolute best part of it.




Source: Venus
Wearing Venus




Annica Springmann and Patricia Wester
Femulators Annica Springmann and Patricia Wester

Friday, August 30, 2019

Peggy Sue Got Married

Peggy Sue is a Southern girl and a ham radio operator like myself and we regularly exchange e-mails about being girls and being hams. She wrote the following in a recent e-mail.
I pray your personal situation is not overwhelming you. My wife is balancing numerous medical issues, but we are managing to keep everything under control. I have combined some of my crossdressing days with taking her to her medical appointments. Although her doctors have known her for years, they never knew I was a crossdresser.
I wrote back.
How did your wife's doctor react to your revelation?
Peggy Sue replied.
There was very little reaction from my wife's doctors. However, the female staff was very approving and very vocal in their approval, even to the point of asking questions as to how I do makeup, purchase clothes, what does Lucy (my wife) think of it, how often to I femulate, etc.
The doctor reaction reminded me of my own physician the first time he saw my painted toes and shaved chest, which was very little reaction, other than yeah, he commented his understanding was that most crossdressers are married heterosexual men.



Source: Ann Taylor
Wearing Ann Taylor



The Queen
The evening gown competition in the 1968 documentary The Queen.

Thursday, August 29, 2019

Close Call

By Sally Stone

My wife and I were planning to meet friends for drinks at a favorite watering hole in a town about 50 miles away from where we live. The location was ideal because it was equidistant from us and our friends and it afforded my wife and I a certain level of anonymity or so we thought.

When it comes to my feminine persona, I kind of lead a double life. I’m very social on one hand; on the other, our family and most of our friends don’t know anything about Sally. And while I know it is always a possible to encounter someone who knows my male persona, I feel fairly confident that mitigating such an encounter wouldn’t be too difficult. My confidence stems from the fact that when I’m presenting as Sally, I look significantly different than when I’m in male mode. I think even close acquaintances would have to get up close and personal to recognize the male me.

That’s me though. As for my poor wife, she is never in disguise, making her obviously recognizable. I think it’s the primary reason she’s not as comfortable as I when we are out as girlfriends. Such was the case on a recent Saturday outing when our plan was to rendezvous with friends who know Sally.,

We parked after paying the lot attendant, got out of the car and began to make our way across the street towards the restaurant. From the parking lot we had to climb steps up to street level and just as I reached the top of the steps two of our close friends, who don’t know anything about Sally, were walking down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. Jane, the wife, actually looked in our direction and I panicked a bit at the thought of her seeing my wife, who was just behind me still coming up the steps.

For several seconds I was certain that my wife’s biggest fear was about to be realized, that she’d be recognized and because we were together, I’d be outed. I have played scenarios like this over and over in my head, wondering how I would deal with such an eventuality and I have thought the best answer would be frank honesty. Certainly, there would have been shock on the acquaintance’s part and I would probably feel a little embarrassed, but my poor wife’s embarrassment would certainly be much worse than mine.

Fortunately, there was no recognition of either of us and our friends passed by continuing down the sidewalk. I breathed a huge sigh of relief knowing I had dodged a bullet. For my wife’s part, she had no idea the close encounter had just taken place. I thought about telling her, but knowing how the revelation would have rattled her, I chose not to.

And to be honest, my decision was for the most part, a selfish one. Had I told her, I’m certain the gravity of the near incident would have damaged her already fragile resolve making here even more apprehensive about accompanying me out in public.

Even with such a close call, I kept telling myself that a repeat occurrence was quite unlikely. But that really isn’t true. I can no more control situations like this than I can the weather and being honest with myself, I know I can’t fully protect my wife no matter how carefully I plan our outings.

So, I ask myself, “Is it just a matter of time before the inevitable happens? Is it a forgone conclusion that at some point, I'll have to face reality and reveal my feminine persona to a circle of friends that have no idea Sally exists?” I know I could weather the turbulence that would certainly follow, but I worry it won't be so easy for my wife. The selfless thing to do would be to put Sally back in the closet, but no matter how noble such a decision might be, I would be subjecting myself to eternal pain and misery. I can't and  I won't do that. I need my feminine self-expression to stay sane.

A compromise, the best I can hope for, is to minimize my wife's exposure to such threats. To do that we need to limit our girlfriend outings. That's sad and I'll miss her company, but it is a sacrifice that works to achieve two important objectives. The first is I retain the trans balance in my life that gives me my joy and my sanity and the second is I don't expose my wife to situations where her presence would serve to out me and ultimately embarrass her.




Wearing Venus (Stana likes this dress so much that she ordered it for herself.)






Kazik Mazur femulates Zdzisława Sośnicka on Polish television's Twoja Twarz Brzmi Znajomo.

Tuesday, August 27, 2019

Perhaps…

By Paula Gaikowski, Femulate Contributing Editor

The other day while driving through Natick, Massachusetts, I saw a rainbow flag hanging outside one of the town’s churches, not that unusual nowadays. However, next to it flew the transgender flag. A few days later while cruising down 495, there was a pink, blue and white transgender support ribbon on the back of someone’s car.

In addition, I see mentions of gender identity in organization and corporate mission statements. Teachers I know tell me that most high schools have transgender students these days. All these things would have been unthinkable when I was younger.

Viewing this all as a baby boomer makes one reflect about growing up in a time where being gay was literally a crime, the word transgender did not exist and doctors and therapists didn’t know about, nor did they treat transgender people.

Many Femulate readers remember those days when the only information available were magazines in adult books stores and the occasional story on television shows like Donahue or Sally Jesse Raphael. As a teenager, there weren’t any adults that I could confide my feelings to. Teacher, clergy, doctor, parent or sibling all would have condemned me. It was no different in college.

I now read accounts all the time of young people coming out as transgender to their parents. When I first signed onto the Internet in 1995, our community seemed small. Today on trans websites, thousands of young transgender persons are coming out and transitioning while getting support from family, medical professionals and work.

One young woman named Gabi is able to crossdress a few days a week at her bank. I compare that the good old days when people were fired because they were gay or crossdressed on their own time. We’ve come a long way,  but we still have more progress to make.

Although Caitlynn Jenner is a controversial figure in the transgender community, I believe it was her coming out that served as the tipping point in 2015. That to me struck a sea change when the word transgender entered the lexicon and corporations, churches, schools and insurance companies all came on board.

When Caitlynn won the decathlon she was viewed as the personification of masculinity. So many people in powerful positions knew her. This made her coming out so much more of an impact and helped define being transgender. So I respect and applaud her bravery; she made it easier for the many who followed.

All of this makes me wonder what a different path my life would have taken. So many times under draconian circumstances, I described how I almost came out and pursued transition. With the resources and acceptance available today, I surely would have transitioned.

After 60 years of intense self-examination, there is no doubt that I am a woman deep down inside. I could have contributed so much to my gender, my community, a husband and family.

Transitioning in the 1980’s would have meant a loss of livelihood, while transgender medical procedures were nascent and experimental. My family would have shunned me and society at large would have marginalized me.

What I see happening now with many transgender women would not have been the experience for me in 1982. Medically advanced procedures such as HRT, FFS and SRS paid for by medical insurance was not the norm in 1982. HR departments fired transgender persons rather than sending them flowers on their first day as a woman. Parents and friends, who might be able to adjust and support their transgender daughter, weren’t there. And today, dating a transgender woman doesn’t carry the social stigma it once did.

That’s the conundrum; perhaps what appears to be the incorrect decision may in actuality be what was best decision for me under the circumstances at the time.




Source: Stylewe
Wearing Stylewe




Veit Alex
Veit Alex

Sunday, August 25, 2019

Status

People are asking, so here is my status health-wise. (Thank you for asking!)

My health is improving and I figure to be out and about after Labor Day unless I have a setback.

I lost more weight and I am now down to a weight I have not seen since I was in grammar school!

As a result, a lot of my clothing no longer fits. Even the items I use for my male disguise are swimming on me. (I guess that means I will have to go shopping!)

On the other hand, dresses that were too tight a few months ago, fit perfectly now. I also noticed that some of my high heels that were on the tight side are just right now.

And so it goes!





Source: Ann Taylor
Wearing Ann Taylor





Gary Burghoff
Gary Burghoff femulates on a 1975 episode of television's M*A*S*H.
(Thank you, Velma, for the memory.)

Tuesday, August 20, 2019

Caught

By Paula Gaikowski, Femulate Contributing Editor

Back in 1968, I was 9 years old. The style at the time amongst my third-grade classmates was mini-dresses, fishnet stockings and go-go boots. I became captivated by my female classmates and what they wore. Each day I wondered what pretty or cute outfit they would wear. So was it curiosity or envy that led me to my sister’s bedroom that morning?

To this day, I am not sure. I just remember wanting to wear dresses like the girls in school did. I also remember being jealous on days when they all went to Maywood School of Dance. I would see them afterwards going home in their tutus and leotards. I remember thinking, “Gosh, it would be fun doing ballet.” However, I knew to keep that thought to myself.

It was a Saturday, my parents were gone somewhere and my sister was out, too. There in the closet it hung, an above-the-knee brightly colored paisley dress. Just like the one the girls in my school wore. A hasty search turned up black fishnet pantyhose, panties and a slip.

I couldn’t believe that I was actually going to wear these clothes, I was so happy.

I threw off the pajamas that I had been wearing and next put on the stockings.

Thinking back, I wonder how I knew how to do that, I mean how does a 9-year-old boy know how to put on a pair of stockings? Well, not surprisingly it seemed to come very naturally.

Rummaging through her closet I found black go-go boots just like the ones Irene Barusso got for Christmas!

Wow, so this is what it feels like. Girls are so lucky!

Somewhere in the room I found a wiglet, a bun that my sister used for a wedding she was in.
The wig let led me to the vanity and then the makeup, lipstick, mascara, then eyelash curler.
I would sit and watch my sister and Mom put there makeup --- now it was my turn.

Spellbound and absorbed, it took a moment for me to hear the car in the driveway.

My sister.

Panicked, I ran down into the basement as the back door opened.

My sister, called for me and I answered, “Down here, I’m playing ping-pong.”

Who plays ping-pong alone besides a terrified 9-year-old transgender girl?

Meanwhile, in a frenzy I had stripped off all of the clothes and was rubbing off my lipstick the best I could.

I heard my sister go into the kitchen. I covertly made my way into her bedroom. In a panic I threw the dress, fishnets and panties on the floor of her closet.

I wandered into the kitchen trying my best to appear calm and innocent, “What were your doing?” she asked in a snippy tone.

I opted for the stock answer of guilt-ridden children everywhere, “Nothing.”

I ran away hoping to escape further questioning, I don’t remember much else about that day, however it remains a pivotal day in my mind. It was the first time I dressed up as a girl and it ignited something deep down inside me.

The next morning, I went to my closet to get dressed and there on the floor just as I had left them in my sister’s closet were the dress, pantyhose, panties and slip thrown in a heap on the floor of my closet.

I felt my face flush red and fear run through my body. “What now?” I thought. She knows, I’m caught what will happen to me?

I hid the clothes and later when the house was empty again I went down to my sister’s room and put everything neatly away.

She never said anything to me about that afterwards. I wonder what she thought and why she put the clothes there. Was it a way to admonish me? Or was it an olive branch of acceptance?

I’ll never know. My sister died one year ago this week.




Source: Venus
Wearing Venus




Benjamin Koldyke
Benjamin Koldyke emulating in the 2012 television series Work It!