Dear Auntie Helga, May I thank you and your contributors for your wonderful site, I look forward to it each month. A little different to the experiences of many of your other readers, I was not a reluctant crossdresser. I have loved feminine clothes for as long as I can remember.
I have been lucky as my family knew of my crossdressing while I was growing up. Growing up in the 1960s with three older sisters (8, 10 and 16 years older) I was always dressing up in their clothes, shoes, etc ... as little kids do, and no one took much notice. My sisters and I would have tea parties with our teddys and dolls. I always wanted to grow up as a girl. My older brothers (12 and 14 years older) never really commented and treated me the same irrespective of what I was wearing - making billycarts, riding bikes, kicking balls etc. Often, I would have looked like a tomboy running around in the yard kicking a ball, climbing trees, or being doubled on my brother's bicycle while wearing one of my sister's old sundress and sandals. My childhood best friend was a girl the same age and her slightly younger sister who lived across the road. We played girl games at each other's house. Her parents did not care what I wore.
Before I was born my parents had already lost two small children - thus the long age gap between me and the second youngest sister. Reflecting, due to the losses in my family I was a highly loved and cherished member of my family. Spoiled by my sisters and brothers and parents. They were very glad to have me and just wanted me to be happy. Similarly, any opinions aunts, uncles and family friends may have had were never commented on, I was just accepted as who I was, and they wanted my family to be happy. Having two big brothers meant none of the older neighbourhood boys commented, kids my age did not seem to notice... some question about why do you wear girls' clothes? ... "I like to" was met with "OK and a shrug".
Some of my first memories are of standing outside of the local haberdashery when I was four, just before starting school. There was a mannequin display of a young girl and boy dressed in the local primary school uniforms. I so wanted the blue serge pleated tunic, white blouse, school tie with school badge, blazer, straw hat, white socks, and black Mary-jane shoes. I used to walk past most days on the way to the local shop with one of my older sisters and talk about how much I wanted the girls' uniform. Unfortunately, it was the boys uniform I had to wear to school. This was when I first came up against gender discrimination.
But my oldest sister, I love her very much, altered one of the younger sisters' old uniforms for me to wear around the house. I would put it on after school and sit with older siblings 'doing my homework', reading books, writing little stories, and doing sums. One of my brothers or sisters would then mark my homework. This is probably why I excelled at school and university.
When I was younger, I wore my sisters' old clothes and shoes and later started wearing my mum's clothes too. I remember when I was around seven, just before my birthday, my oldest two sisters asked me to help them sew, they were making dresses and a playsuit for a cousin and wanted me to help them. This meant passing things and standing while they measured, pinned and sewed the fabric. There were daily fittings of an evening after dinner for about a week.
One dress was a simple A-line sun dress, loose top with spaghetti straps that tied over the shoulders. It had a sunflower pattern, reaching to just above the knee with two big green patch pockets on the front. The other dress was pale blue with white and pink flowers, it was very tailored. It had a fitted top, white peter pan collar, no sleeves and the skirt flared out over a tulle petticoat with a belt made from the same stiffened fabric. It had no pockets and the dress zipped under the arm. The one-piece playsuit was a navy and floral print, loose bodice, no sleeves, bloomer bottom, white peter pan collar and elasticized waist and tie belt. The bloomers were puffy with elasticized legs trimmed with white lace. The playsuit came to mid-thigh and had hidden pockets. I would hang around watching my sisters sew, waiting for them to ask me to try the clothes on. It was all I could think off. When the dresses and play suit were completed, a final check; modeling them to mum and family for final approval; it was then "take them off before they get dirty". They were packed away and I was given 50 cents for helping. I was so disappointed.
A couple of weeks later it was my birthday. There was a ball, a board game, and some books. Then my sisters brought out their present to me. My sisters gave me the dresses and playsuit, a white purse, and red girls sunglasses. My mother gave me a pair of girls' white leather sandals and a white sun hat. I loved them and wore them most of that summer. Now I was a girl, hair was short but that was Ok. We would go into town, shopping, movies, zoo, everywhere.
When I was 13-15 my favourite dress was a 1950's black velvet cocktail dress with a flared skirt that had belonged to my oldest sister. She had had a baby and my sisters, and I got her clothes that did not fit her anymore. I wore this with her old bra, corset, suspenders, stockings, petticoat and shoes. My sisters would do my lipstick. I loved that dress and would often wear it around the house with a white apron pretending I was a maid. I would tidy and clean the house and make morning or afternoon tea for mum and visitors. I also dressed and served as a maid at my older sister's house and parties, she was then living a bohemian life in the inner city. Unfortunately, eventually I grew out of the dress and started to accumulate my own wardrobe.
At university I had long hair and would often dress in my own, or my girlfriend's clothes: sometimes going to university dressed, but more often out to friends and parties. All my close friends and partners have known about my crossdressing and submissive nature. As I have been upfront about it, only those accepting of it have remained friends. Much love to you and all your readers. If you are interested, I can share some more of my life stories.
Dear Sally, what a wonderful childhood and thank you for sharing it with us, very heartwarming. Thank you as well for being a regular reader and for your kind words about my site, I hope that readers will feel free to tell us their stories, be them like yours of free reign to explore or petticoated for punishment. Love to hear some of your life stories.