Becca is one year old today.

Today is the 28th September and Becca is now one year old.

Just over twelve months ago, my wife went on holiday to India. I’m not a great traveller, much preferring to be in familiar territory, and anyway, someone has to stay at home and look after the rescue dogs. We don’t like to put them in kennels since that’s where they came from, we wouldn’t want them to think they were being abandoned yet again. She went on one of those guided solo holidays and spent ten days in India’s Golden Triangle, where she met an older lady with whom she became friends (indeed, they went to Rhodes together earlier this year).

For no particular reason, on her first day away, I was looking through Amazon’s vast site and came across a long, boho skirt in a rust colour. I bought one, though for the life of me, I couldn’t tell you why; perhaps it just looked comfortable, perhaps Becca had been in there, hidden, waiting all these years for her time to emerge.

I’d almost forgotten I’d ordered it when next day, a driver knocked on my door, handing me a paper bag which contained a new future and a new direction for me, although I couldn’t have known it then.

The dogs received the shortest of walks and after returning home, I put the skirt on. Indeed it was, as I imagined, very comfortable. I loved the way it looked, the way I could feel it on my skin, the way, when I curled my knees up on the sofa, it would drape itself over my legs and bare feet, keeping any draughts at bay.

I wore that skirt at home every day while my wife was away and then she came home, none the wiser, and I went back to being all male; inside though, I was thinking about wearing that skirt again.

Two years ago, when I drank wine and beer, I would have had a few glasses, then, when the alcohol had worked it’s confidence-enhancing magic, I would have blurted out that I was wearing women’s clothes. Ah, but I no longer drink, I had no Dutch courage, I could only feign casual indifference and mention ‘in passing’ that, while she was away, I found this skirt that looked comfy.

The die had been cast, what was coming next?

‘I go away for two minutes and you’re a tranny?!’

‘Have you been trying on my clothes?!’

‘That’s weird, I’m leaving you!’

No, I heard, ‘Well, you can put it on if you want.’

I wasted no time, but the minute I put it on, I realised that far from being comfortable in it, I felt embarrassed, awkward and foolish. What was I doing, wearing a woman’s skirt? After all, I was a man for heaven’s sake.

Nevertheless, for the next few days, I wore it at some point every day, and slowly, I began to realise that my wife was completely unfazed by my dressing.

A little while later, probably within a week or two, I ordered some other clothes from the Chinese company, Temu, since they were very cheap. Another skirt, a shorter one this time, and a very bright top with a bird design on it. I tried them on with my wife present and although she didn’t say anything (hindsight says perhaps she should have), I thought they looked ok and we took some photographs. These photographs are unlikely to see the light of day since they portray a shaven-headed man with a blue beard and dodgy legs wearing a skirt that was too short and a top that was too big. Oh, those were the days [to forget].

I had some medical issues over the next few months and my cross-dressing was somewhat sporadic and only when I felt well enough, but it never went away. I bought breast forms, hip pads, a wig and finally, my wife agreed that I could shave my beard off; such a relief to have that gone after decades of covering my face.

During my illness, while aimlessly browsing for forms, or wigs, I don’t remember, I came across the wonderful Crossdresser Heaven. I knew people cross-dressed, I had seen a few in my time and observed them with some curiosity, but no desire to copy them. That is until that skirt in September 2023. Once I joined CDH in January of 2024, I realised that cross-dressing was a phenomenon that was far more widespread than I thought; so many across the world. I didn’t even look for other sites in a similar vein—and it would appear that many of them are more sexually oriented or contact sites, in neither of which am I interested.

Once I was aware of the cross-dressing community and how CDers went about it, things moved apace. I bought a better wig, different breast forms, clothes, jewellery, clothes, perfume, more clothes, cosmetics…and shoes.

Shoes were a problem at first. I have size 9 (UK) feet and most of the shops stopped at size 8 in women’s, so online purchasing was all I could do, paying over the odds for inferior footwear. However a chance encounter in a sports shop with a pair of size 8 trainers brought me the realisation that so long as I wasn’t entering any marathons, I could get away with a smaller size…and suddenly, the world of women’s shoes opened up to me!

Eventually, much earlier than planned, since I couldn’t wait, I made my first trip out in public; something that is documented in my earlier article.

My wife had reservations about that first trip out, but they quickly evaporated.

I got my ears pierced. I love dangly and hooped earrings as I can feel them as I move; just one more thing that reinforces the feeling of womanhood.

My wife taught me how to do my makeup, trimmed my wigs and kept me on the straight and narrow regarding what clothes worked and what didn’t. We started going out on a fairly regular basis, to the theatre, shopping, garden centres, even just for a coffee.

These days, we often go out and about with me dressed and even when I’m in drab, we still look through women’s clothes shops together.

I have so much jewellery and if one of us doesn’t like some item we have bought, the other may well take it on, even some clothing can work for both of us.

The other day, I bought a small car for my feminine side (SO uses one to go to work and ‘dressing’ for motorcycling, my other transport, is inconvenient at best) so Becca now has her own wheels, a black Smart car. Soon it will have flowers and butterflies transferred onto the bodywork; all perhaps an expensive step too far, but it’s too late now, I’ve paid for it.

I am at ease with my femininity. If I haven’t been out for a while, I get that initial nervousness and reticence until I have my makeup on, I’m dressed and I step out of the front door, ready to face the world en femme and I feel good about it all once again

So here we are, precisely one year on from when I tried on that skirt. It seems both a long time ago and also only like yesterday. I can thank CDH for a large part of this journey.

Becca is one year old and happy, although with rather less money.

More Articles by Becca Baxter

• Becca is “Out” at last

Subscribe To Our Newsletter

Join our mailing list to receive the latest news and articles from Crossdresser Heaven.

SUBSCRIBE!

You have Successfully Subscribed!

We hate spam too, unsubscribe at any time.