Pretty Pink Panties

I've written several articles for this site; most are my own musings about who I am and where I fit in. I write to find myself, and I write to help others think through their own situations and feelings. As an introvert by nature, I sit back and take it all in, process it, try to make sense out of it, and then with what reasoning and commonsense that I have, I try to put it into relevant context. I'm not a professional by any means, but I have been around the block and I am very empathetic by nature. So take me for what I am, and my words for reflection.

As a young boy, I saw my first pair of pink satin panties on a girl in church. I was captivated because I could see them, and by the fact that I wanted them. The thought was there and then it was gone, because I was a boy and I wore tighty whities. However, the older I became, the more the obsession grew and morphed. From high heels and nylons, to lingerie and corsets, to tight dresses and long red nails and lips, and finally to where I am today…the whole package of femininity. It's progressed from a fetish (which was more of a symptom of what I am) to an understanding that I am a complex person of blended genders. I still don't know completely who I am or who I'll eventually become and die as, and truthfully, I care less about it every day as I just try to live kindly as me. 

I had a first this past week. I wore my pretty pink panties to church. It isn't the first time I've worn them there, but it was the first time that I didn't stress over wearing them—a huge difference. I've pretty much given up my male underwear this year, started wearing mostly women's jeans and shorts, done as many little feminizing things as I can and still appear mostly male. I keep my face and body clean shaven, (arms and legs during cold months), my face and body moisturized, wear neutral cologne, use female shower and body products, tweeze my eyebrows (nose, lips, ears…ugh…), and keep my nails longer and more feminine. For now, it's enough. It won't be in the future as each day moves me further along the path I walk. I've come so far from the need to wear a pair of heels for gratification to finding the inner calmness that comes from expressing the female in me that is important to my sanity and happiness.

I know what the bible says about crossdressers, but it also speaks to forgiveness and acceptance. I find it hard to believe that when I stand at the pearly gates I will be judged by the clothes I wore and not by the deeds I've done. I'll leave it at that. For the better part of my life, I've felt unworthy. The stigma of what I was, what I've done because of this need in me, and to what I'm becoming, has caused depression, anxiety, remorse, frustration, shame, guilt, doubt, denial, obsession, longing, and every other negative feeling imaginable.  Sunday, in church, I didn't have those feelings; I felt normal.  I didn't even think about them. Maybe in a church far away, someday, I'll wear my Sunday dress and raise my hands to the heavens as I sing Alleluia.

I read everyone's articles on Crossdresser Heaven, and most of the comments left by others, and I have my own way of playing my part in this community. I try my best to friend the new girls as they post a picture—my way of saying hello and reaching out and giving back.  I'm not into chat—that introvert in me. I like to process before replying, so it's email and PM for me.  We are under one huge umbrella called crossdressers—a term that I think is unfriendly and becoming obsolete. When you do your profile, there are so many choices. For me, it could change daily. As with everything else, there are the end points and the middle on our spectrum and on the much larger line of male vs. female. I believe we are at the center of that larger line and our middle is expanding outward. Whether this is because of genetics, or intake of animal hormones through milk or whatever, it doesn't matter. We are growing in numbers and one day the world will adapt and become a more tolerant place…or it won't. If it does, it will be because we have stepped out of the closet and lifted our hands in the air as we sing along with those who see us as the people we are and not by the clothes we wear.  

When you get the chance…live kindly.

Brina MacTavish