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    • #670675
      Anonymous

      I’ve just noticed the “Stepping Out For The First Time” forum way down the list, coincidentally just a couple of days after I’d had one of my flashbacks. I went through a traumatic introduction to cross-dressing (there is an article about it here : https://www.crossdresserheaven.com/acceptance-with-cross-dressing-from-adversity-to-it/). Not wishing to re-hash the article, here’s the TLDR brief summary. I was bullied into wearing a girdle when I was a slightly overweight teenager. The following years did cause me some psychological damage, causing me to continue wearing foundation garments into adulthood.

      Anyway, I’ve long since got to a place where I’m relatively happy with the way my life is these days. I can usually look back and tell my story in a fairly objective manner. But occasionally I get these flashbacks where I’m right back in the moment experiencing all the emotions I did back then as if it were all happening for the first time. (Reading up on this, the terms PTSD and CPTSD come up repeatedly, but I always feel such a fraud when I go to forums dealing with these issues – trauma is being in a war, in a car crash, having an abusive childhood…not wearing a damn girdle.)  Music is a good flashback trigger – the radio was always on in our house in the mornings, and certain popular songs of the day can set me off. This latest episode was caused by the worst trigger of all – ABBA performing “Money Money Money”.

      So, as this forum is called “Stepping Out For The First Time”, here’s my story of that first time. (I know that this is not what the creator of this forum had in mind at all, but there are all sorts of “first times”.) Strictly speaking, it’s the second time, i.e. the day after the bullies made me the “offer I couldn’t refuse”, but it was the first day where I had time to think and make my decision. So here’s the flashback that occasionally ambushes me when I least expect it.

      The previous day, a group of morons had put me in a girdle and taken photos – the sick ultimatum was that I had to wear the girdle from then on or see the photos go public. I’m lying in bed in the early morning. I’ve not had much sleep, and the pillow is wet from tears. It all seems unreal, but I’m feeling sick to the pit of my stomach as I know that, in my Secret Hiding Place I’ve got my new panty girdle waiting for me. It was a good tight fit when I had to put it on yesterday – how the hell did they get it, never mind one the right size?

      I have no interest in wearing women’s clothes. The idea has never crossed my mind. And girdles…well, girdles are these bizarre things that I see in mail order catalogues, shop windows and tv adverts (this is the late 70s) – the idea I’d ever wear one of these, even for a second, is a prospect this 14 year old boy finds appalling. But the house is waking up, the panic is rising in my chest, and decision time is approaching.

      My imagination kicks in and I think of the reaction if I defy instructions. I can see the kids at school pointing and laughing, imagine their taunts, see the looks in their eyes. Then I think of my parents, imagine standing in front of my dad trying to explain myself as he looks at the picture of me in my girdle. And what proof do I have that I was forced to put it on? They could just claim they’d caught me and it’d be their word against mine. The tears are starting to flow again as it sinks in that I can’t face all that. But there’s only one alternative…

      I spend a good few minutes sitting blubbering on the end of my bed with the girdle in my hands. The radio is on downstairs – ABBA singing about Money Money Money – and my mum shouts at me to hurry up. I stand up, pull on my usual briefs…then I step into my new girdle. My face is a picture of revulsion as I tug it on and feel it tightening around me.

      A few minutes later, I’m standing at the top of the stairs. I’m fully dressed in my school uniform, and my panty girdle is firmly holding me in. I feel like I want to scream. My mum gives me an irritated last call to get down for breakfast. All I can think of is that I’m wearing a girdle. I’m wearing a panty girdle! I’d only just pulled myself together, and the thought nearly sets me off again. If I go down there now, I’m committing to wearing it every day from now on. I almost run back to the bedroom to tear it off me. But again I think of the consequences of public exposure, the intense humiliation…and I take one step down the stairs…then another…and another. I’m light headed as it all feels so unreal. It’s like I’m watching another person as I slowly make my way down to the kitchen. I know my belly looks a bit reduced and doesn’t seem so saggy. Ditto my backside, which is now what I later heard referred to as a “monobuttock”. But no-one seems to be paying attention to what seems to me to be these glaringly obvious tell-tale signs. I go through the morning rituals desperately trying to act as if everything is ok.

      And, after a breakfast which I had great difficulty forcing myself to eat, I put on my coat, pick up my bag, and “Step Out For The First Time” to get the school bus.

      I’ve got shaking hands just typing that. These flashbacks are (thankfully!) few and far between nowadays, but they sure as hell knock the stuffing out of me when they take me right back the middle of the bad old days. I guess it’s fascinating how every detail can be recalled from way back then, but the human mind’s ability to have near perfect recall on all the bad times in life can be a major pain.

    • #670765
      Cassie Jayson
      Duchess

      Sorry about your difficult young life. It sounds like getting it off your chest is very helpful for you. I remember your origional story. Any time youneed to get any other thingoff your chest come let it out.

      . Cassie

      • #670826
        Anonymous

        Thanks Cassie.

        On the whole I do ok, but when I have a bad day it hits hard as that’s when I go into “relive the moment” mode. It does help to be able to tell the story, though I’m always wary that the kind of introduction to crossdressing that I had is abnormal to say the least and might a bit out of place on CDH.

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