Girls Had It Better In Life
Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 6:55 pm
I grew up thinking that parents preferred girls. Girls were prettier, smarter, nicer and didn't get into trouble. Boys, well, boys will be boys.
My mother would often tell us the story of our births and how she hoped for a girl with each of us. First she gave birth to my older brother. Three years later she was pregnant again and used positive thinking to prepare for a girl That was when I was born. Six months later she was pregnant again, and once again she prepared for a girl. Then on Christmas morning she gave birth to my sister. It was the happiest day of my mother's life.
My older brother was a sort of bully who enjoyed provoking me, dominating, and tough. I was a sensitive boy who was quiet, introspective, and avoided competition. My sister was my mother's little princess. She was pampered and spoiled, and protected against her older brothers. For as long as I could remember I was envious of my sister. She got all the love and attention from my mother. I believed that my mother was disappointed that I was born a boy. Surely, my mother would have loved me more if I was born a girl. My mother would say that I was very clingy, and insisted on being carried all the time. I remember that when I was 3-4 years old I was raiding my mother's closet and playing dress-up. My mother disapproved because I was damaging her clothes. In questioning me, I remember telling my mother that I was playing "mommy".
During my very early years playing dress up allowed me to enter a better world where I could recreate myself into anything I wanted. I wanted to be a girl because girls got all the good stuff, and they lived in a beautiful world. Now my mother was a good seamstress and one day she decided to make a party dress for a child. She would careful measure the dress against my body. A little while later she had me take off my clothes and put on a petticoat. (This was in the 1950's and that was just the fashion.) The dress was not quite finished but she pulled it over me to make sure it was a good fit. At that moment I was thrilled and started dancing. The dress would twirl and my mother laughed as I spun around causing my skirts to rise. Just then my older brother came in the room. He fell on the floor laughing uncontrollably and pointing at me. In that moment I went from joy to horror. "Take it off, take it off", I was in tears. Just then my father walked in, and there was some loud discussion. I never wore that dress again. My mother gave it to a girl across the street from us. She would wear it to church. This really bothered me because my older brother would point it out to me saying, "look, Linda is wearing your dress." Then he would punch me in the arm. It was a form of aversion therapy.
From that moment I kept my cross-dressing a secret. At first I thought that all boys secretly loved to wear girls clothes, but we had to keep it a secret. As I grew older I began to believe that I was the only person in the world who enjoyed such an activity.
It was not a sexual thing for me until I reached puberty. Testosterone makes this into a sexual fetish. However, I believe that those who believe cross-dressing just sexual fetish, have missed the mark. Its more than that. I believe it was hardwired in my brain through synaptogenesis and neural pruning. Now these neural connections create an involuntary response to cross-dressing where our brain interprets cross-dressing as contact with a female and releases a host of neurotransmitters. Dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin are response for the sensations of gratification, well-being, pleasure, and social bonding.
My mother would often tell us the story of our births and how she hoped for a girl with each of us. First she gave birth to my older brother. Three years later she was pregnant again and used positive thinking to prepare for a girl That was when I was born. Six months later she was pregnant again, and once again she prepared for a girl. Then on Christmas morning she gave birth to my sister. It was the happiest day of my mother's life.
My older brother was a sort of bully who enjoyed provoking me, dominating, and tough. I was a sensitive boy who was quiet, introspective, and avoided competition. My sister was my mother's little princess. She was pampered and spoiled, and protected against her older brothers. For as long as I could remember I was envious of my sister. She got all the love and attention from my mother. I believed that my mother was disappointed that I was born a boy. Surely, my mother would have loved me more if I was born a girl. My mother would say that I was very clingy, and insisted on being carried all the time. I remember that when I was 3-4 years old I was raiding my mother's closet and playing dress-up. My mother disapproved because I was damaging her clothes. In questioning me, I remember telling my mother that I was playing "mommy".
During my very early years playing dress up allowed me to enter a better world where I could recreate myself into anything I wanted. I wanted to be a girl because girls got all the good stuff, and they lived in a beautiful world. Now my mother was a good seamstress and one day she decided to make a party dress for a child. She would careful measure the dress against my body. A little while later she had me take off my clothes and put on a petticoat. (This was in the 1950's and that was just the fashion.) The dress was not quite finished but she pulled it over me to make sure it was a good fit. At that moment I was thrilled and started dancing. The dress would twirl and my mother laughed as I spun around causing my skirts to rise. Just then my older brother came in the room. He fell on the floor laughing uncontrollably and pointing at me. In that moment I went from joy to horror. "Take it off, take it off", I was in tears. Just then my father walked in, and there was some loud discussion. I never wore that dress again. My mother gave it to a girl across the street from us. She would wear it to church. This really bothered me because my older brother would point it out to me saying, "look, Linda is wearing your dress." Then he would punch me in the arm. It was a form of aversion therapy.
From that moment I kept my cross-dressing a secret. At first I thought that all boys secretly loved to wear girls clothes, but we had to keep it a secret. As I grew older I began to believe that I was the only person in the world who enjoyed such an activity.
It was not a sexual thing for me until I reached puberty. Testosterone makes this into a sexual fetish. However, I believe that those who believe cross-dressing just sexual fetish, have missed the mark. Its more than that. I believe it was hardwired in my brain through synaptogenesis and neural pruning. Now these neural connections create an involuntary response to cross-dressing where our brain interprets cross-dressing as contact with a female and releases a host of neurotransmitters. Dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin are response for the sensations of gratification, well-being, pleasure, and social bonding.
