I’ve decided that it’s time for me to share my personal story. Even though I’ve only been crossdressing a few months now, it has been something that has been a part of me for as long as I can remember. It’s also very hard to write about. So, here it goes…
I think it really started when I was very young, around the 5th grade. My mom had been single for a while, the sperm donor had left when my brother was still a baby (technically, I was too since we are only 19 months apart.) I get that she was lonely; I think she could have done better. They’re still together. It started off good, but quickly went downhill.
It turned out that he was a drunk, drug addict, and abusive. If my brother or I did anything wrong he would beat us with a leather belt on our bare behinds anywhere from 100 to 200 times. We would have to sit a desk with our heads turned as close to 180 degrees for hours on end. One time I didn’t comb my hair just right and the punishment was strangulation until I almost passed out.
He eventually moved us away to the Houston area for a while and that’s when things got really bad. We’d be woken up in the middle of the night as he forced our mom to drive him to places where he’d get high. When we got home the real bad stuff started.
I’m not sure why, but I was his favorite target for everything, and I endured 99% of what he dealt out. He would call me his little “female dog” and other names. He’d put his cigarette out on my hand (still have the scars) and would even sexually abuse me. Between the sexual, mental, and physical abuse… to say I was very confused about myself is an understatement. What else is sad is that my mom never made an effort to stop any of it. To this day, I don’t have much of a relationship with her.
After a year, we moved back to be closer to his family; my grandmother and grandfather were there, too. They had suspected something was going on, but I was too afraid to tell them. They would call on the phone, but he was usually listening in and had me under the threat of death if I said anything. One day in school, there was a special presentation on child abuse. I learned what to do and who to go to. In the moment, I broke down and told the teacher and principal my story. Man, did things move fast.
My brother and I were pulled out of school, an investigation was started, and we were put into foster care. He was put into jail and my grandparents began their fight to get both of us into their custody. The charges against him never happened thanks to an error in the paperwork; he was released. My grandparents went to the courts to obtain custody; they won as our mother gave up all legal rights to us.
About a year later, my grandfather died. He was the only real male figure in my life and only for a year. A couple of years later, I started dressing in my grandmothers clothes. I thought I was being sneaky about it, but she caught me. She didn’t say or do anything, but I felt like I was doing something wrong and forced myself to stop.
For years, I did my best to live up to the stereotypical male image. Right out of high school, I joined the Marine Corps. I got injured two months into boot camp and was sent home. I had small jobs here and there until I entered the Job Corps.
This was a good thing; I met my future wife on that Job Corps campus. For me, it was love at first sight; she hadn’t noticed me yet. It ended up that we shared the same class and lived in the same dorms. I pursued her with everything I had. We dated for 8 months, and then I asked her to marry me one night by just repeating the question over and over again until she said yes.
After 16 years of being with her, and she trying to get me to loosen up, I once again discover that I still have this part of me that I’d never accepted or acknowledged, still buried down inside. I stumbled onto an article written by a straight male to female crossdresser. I read the whole thing and something came over me. It made me realize that I needed to be true to myself. I needed to stop caring how the world saw me and do what makes me happy.
After reading the article, I called my wife and told her about the article and about the urges I had suppressed for many years. We talked for a few hours, and she was behind me 100%. It started out simple at first– replacing my guy underwear with panties, followed by a sports bra. It was only under dressing, but it made me feel good about myself.
Then one day, my wife went though some of her old clothes. She asked me if I wanted to try them on, which I did. I was hooked, but knowing my wife was behind me made everything easier. I was finally accepting myself, and man did it make a huge difference in my life.
The people closest to me noticed that I was genuinely happier. I no longer was having panic attacks after being in public or crowed places for more than an hour. I no longer looked for the table in the corner at a restaurant so I could have my back to it. I finally felt comfortable enough to enjoy life and do things as a family.
I still have my issues to deal with from my messed up childhood and from my time in the Army, but I’m a better person for just accepting myself. I no longer care what the world thinks of me when I dress. I’m going to dress how I want, and the only person allowed to have an opinion about it is my wife.