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Editorial Note:

During the summer AO takes a break.  We do this because meeting attendance goes down-  people take vacations, some people have clothing issues in the summer, or daylight travel issues.   This summer, for the first time in a while, the Silhouette has taken vacation too.   I did intend to have regular issues over the summer, and there certainly has been news enough on the local front.    But for whatever reason, June stretched into July and July into August, and here we are at the end of summer.

My mother and father both caught me wearing her lipstick when I was three.  At four, they both caught me wearing one of my mother’s dresses.  I am not really sure if my father did know that when I was five I was caught with a ring of my mother’s.  I don’t know if my mother told him about the ring.

At seven I got away with wearing a pair of my mother’s nylons for the first time.  I loved how my legs looked and felt I nylons, and that led to my taking major risks in order to get my legs back into her nylons.  At times, when I wore the nylons, I unfortunately put a hole or a run I one of the stockings; so I don’t see how my mother didn’t at least suspect I wore the nylons.  But she never said a word about it that I know of.  I also began wearing her lipstick again, and secretly wearing other women’s lipstick when I could.

I was nine when I tried a bra around my chest for the first time, so I could make it fit me.  I seemed to get way with wearing the bra, as well.  Over the next year, I wore a bra and nylons when I could.  I wore a few other things of my mother’s as well at times, but a bra and nylons were what I wore most.  I liked having the look of breasts on my chest, and my legs looked really pretty in nylons.  I liked seeing lipstick on my lips, as well.

Deep down, I didn’t see how my mother didn’t know what I wore, but nothing was ever said.  I did seem to be getting way with my deeds.  And since I did fear getting caught, it was a relief to me that nothing was said.  Looking back, if my mother did suspect or know what I wore, then she was letting me get away with it.  As far as I know, my father had no idea of my adventures.

At ten, I got braver.  I got away with wearing a bathing suit of one of my aunts, and that helped lead me to “borrowing” a lipstick and some earrings of hers.  My aunt had several lipsticks and several pairs of earrings.  Hers were the first earrings I ever wore. 

The bad part was that my mother found the lipstick and earrings that I “borrowed”.  There was no doubt of the hurt that my mother felt, and that hurt me, too.  My mother got rid of the earrings and the lipstick, and never mentioned them again.  I went into a purge of wearing anything feminine, even if I had the chance to.

Nothing was ever said about anything of my mother’s.  As far as I know, my father never knew about the lipstick and earrings, nor did my aunt.  I don’t think my aunt even knew I ever “borrowed” anything of hers.  I tried very hard to regain my mother’s trust in me as a boy. 

I was twelve before I broke my purge in order to try on some shoes of the girls in my school class.  Of the shoes I did try on, one girl had a pair that fit me.  Donna’s beige, t-strap, low heels were the first girl’s or women’s shoes to ever fit me.  Walking in Donna’s shoes, as if they were mine, brought back all my longing for other pretty things on me.  Donna, nor any of the other girls, nor anyone else, ever knew about my trying on the shoes.

Though my longings began to emerge again, I was just shy of turning thirteen before I broke the purge again.  My downfall was a brand new bra I found in my mother’s dresser.  I allowed myself one time to try the bra on before going back to the purge.  The real downfall was not trying the bra on, but in seeing and feeling the new bra fit me like it belonged to me.  I had felt that same feeling in Donna’s shoes.  They just seemed to belong on me.

It was after I padded out the bra that the real impact hit me.  I saw myself in the dresser mirror wearing a bra, and having breasts, just like any real woman did.  My purge totally fell apart as I searched for even more to make my body even more womanly.  The fact that my mother was in the hospital for an extended stay aided the situation.  I found, put on, and tucked myself into my first girdle that day and learned the womanly skill of hooking my stockings to the girdle with garter hooks.  My legs were, to me, prettier in nylons than they had ever been.

I learned to walk in a pair of my mother’s high heels that also fit me as if they were mine.  For the first time I was able to dress as completely as I could like a woman that day.  When I looked into the dresser mirror again, I was for all practical purposes a woman standing there.  I had always liked the look and feel of women’s things on me.  But I had never even come close to thinking that I would not only look like a complete woman, but somehow seem to feel like a woman.

For the next three weeks I dressed as completely as a woman as I could, as often as I could.  My younger brothers and my father, as far as I know, never even suspected that a whole new part of me had somehow come to life.  After my mother came home I could only hope that she would not suspect it either.  If she did, she never said so, and my secret did seem to be a secret that only I knew about.  In hindsight, she had to know I wore some things of hers.

I wore what I could when I could, but I found myself with a very real internal struggle.  I needed to be, and had to be, the boy I was; but what I felt as a woman inside me was very strong.  Other brief purges followed, but I couldn’t keep them up. 

I was fourteen when another new bra of my mother’s was a downfall to me.  As with the other new bra, I was the first to wear it.  A few days later, at a time when I was alone with my mother, she told me that she knew someone had been in her things.  I sensed that my whole secret had come undone.  I did admit to my mother that I had tried on her new bra, but nothing else. 

But instead of the sense of shame from my mother that I had sensed when I was ten, she just told me not to do it again.  I told her that I wouldn’t.  I actually never did wear that bra again.  As nothing else was mentioned, I didn’t say any more.  Ironically, I found out a few weeks later that it was one of my younger brothers who had at least checked out my mother’s things.  I never knew which one, and never asked.  As I had already admitted to wearing the bra, I never told my mother what I found out.  It was best to just let the matter stay a secret.  Getting into it more might have exposed the depth of my secret. 

Other hospital stays of my mother’s led to other times that I dressed as completely as a woman as I could.  But as I got older, many things changed.  My mother got rid of some clothes because she didn’t wear them any more.  Also, my mother’s shoes became a bit too small for me to wear.  I also changed, as I started to get a beard and some body and leg hair.  Even if I could wear some pretty things, I could not look like I had looked like women.

My needs didn’t die, but it did become easier to not wear things.  My legs were still shapely in nylons, but hairy legs were hard to overlook.  Even chest hairs above a bra I might put on took away from the look I wanted.  Even lipstick couldn’t hide the ruddiness of my face from daily shaving.

By the time I turned eighteen, I knew I had no real chance of ever being able to really dress, look, or feel like a woman again.  From my being fourteen to my being eighteen, if my mother ever suspected I wore anything of hers, she never said so.  And when I did wear some things of other girls or women, they never said they suspected it either. 

I did seem to be able to control my needs, but not always my thoughts.  Briefly I dated a girl when I was seventeen, but I can’t say that I ever really thought about what she wore.  I was actually glad the relationship ended before it got serious.  I didn’t need anyone to suspect the secret inside me.  That is not to say that I didn’t notice some girls or women, what they wore, and have my needs rekindled.  But it didn’t happen often.  I became well-prepared not to get too serious with anyone.  But then, I didn’t expect any girl to have real interest in my, either. 

I had reached eighteen with my secret basically intact.  Becoming a young man, I needed my secret to stay intact, and in control.  All was well with the world, until I noticed Sandy .  As far as I know, my brothers knew nothing of my secret, nor did my father, other than very early on.  If my mother knew, she kept it as secret as I did.  Realistically, she had to know.

Gloria

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Some News You Might have Missed:

The summer has seen unwelcome news on two fronts.  A suicide of someone in transition in Canton, coupled with a rash of attempts in the wake, and the problems former AO President Karen Deamons has had with access to public swimming facilities while recovering from a stroke.  For the story on Karen, follow this link to the story at Gay People's Chronicle: 

 http://www.gaypeopleschronicle.com/stories08/july/0718081.htm

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Continuing our study of Gender throught the lens of cartoons in the New Yorker, we advance a year to 1927.

We start the year with a cartoon by a woman that reflects even back then on trying not to appear smarter than the man you’re interested in.

Barbara Shermund (1/22/1927)

And continuing in another month, you get some idea of how long our modern tropes of women vs men are.

Barbara Shermund   2/12/1927

For some reason I couldn’t resist this one, if only because it’s something anyone who has worn a short skirt…Yes, I confess, I’ve worn a short skirt once in a while….anyone who who has worn a short skirt might worry about.

Peter Arno (2/19/1927)

 Barbara Shermumd   2/26/1927

I wonder what this gag would translate to today?  It showed up in Laugh-in with Pink Daiquiris for Alan Sooz, the loopy and slightly epicene sports caster.  Would it be Mimosa’s or Cosmo’s today?  What do they drink on Sex in the City?  Would you believe I've never seen a single episode of it?

And of course the gold digger jokes.

Barbara Shermund (4/9/1927)

 This one is in the “Kids say the darndest things” category.  I have a feeling that the names of Eugenie and Gascoigne would have meant something to people of the times, but maybe this is just a contrast between the names and argot.

Alan Dunn 4/30/1927

If you follow my writing elsewhere you'll notice a rant of mine about the appropriation of the term "coming out" to mean something a whole lot less dangerous and threatening by some of our fellow travelers.   This is a reminder of what passing originally meant.  And if you consider stealth transsexuals who you might know these days, the punch line still applies.

Peter Arno (10/22/1927)

Pekinese...or a poodle?  What's the current gay dog?

Oscar Howard (10/29/1927)

And in these unhibited days...which of these women isn't wearing a long skirt?

Barbara Shermund (10/29/1927)

Julian de Miskey (11/19/1927)

 And who is this man with overly intimate posture and bent wrist buying for- do you think?

Barbara Shermund 11/26 1927

Many years ago, Abercrombie and Fitch was known for outfitting explorers.  I think the surprise in this picture is that I know of no custom where little girls take off their hats for older women, hence this sweetly dressed child with just  a hint of petti coat peaking out beneath the over coat could be one of the last vestiges of keeping young boys in skirts.

Edward Graham 12/3/1927

Helen Hopkinson 12/1927

Next Month 1928!

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Publication Information
This newsletter is copyright 2008 by The Alpha Omega Society. All rights reserved. Articles and information contained in this newsletter may be reprinted by other non-profit crossdresser organizations with advance permission of the author and provided that proper credit is given to author and source. The opinions or statements contained in this newsletter are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of Alpha Omega.

Contributions of articles are welcomed, but may be altered in the editing process, with the author’s intent retained, or may be rejected, whether solicited or not. We will exchange newsletters with any other similar group.

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