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As a writer of tg fiction, I know that many readers think that all stories simply evolve from the fantasy life of the writer. But such is not always the case. Certainly, truth may at times be embellished by fiction, but in my case, many of my stories come from remembrances of a rather girlish childhood. Mother let my hair grow long like a girls until I was almost five years old, and even after that, it was still much longer than a boys. I was a mommy's girl and as such, I was usually dressed in dresses as soon as dad left for work. Album pictures (kept under lock and key by my mother in those early days) show that she began dressing me early in life although my memory only goes back to four or so. Spending day after day at mother's side in dresses, did not exactly contribute to my proper gender identification. Dad did not like my having long hair but his love and devotion to my mother made it difficult for him to counter her wishes. That having been said, I do think he would have put his foot down if he knew she was dressing me in dresses. I recall following mother around the house with a little pink feather duster, helping her vacuum the carpets, having berets and ribbons tied in my hair, and at times, having my nails polished. At about 4:30 P.M., I was always taken out of my dresses, in order to greet dad as his little boy when he arrived home. I had long hair but dad was in some way able to rationalize that in his mind and still treated me like his little man. He would ruffle my hair and whisper, "One day, we're going to cut all this off and get you a short hair cut." I guess he not only loved mother but was maybe a little afraid of her as well, because my hair was really girly. If he ever came home early, which he never did, he would have had an eyeful for mother sometimes brushed it out, sometimes curled it, sometimes put it in little braids, always put ribbons and bobby pins in it, and carefully styled it like a girls. Was this confusing to me? Yes, it was. As I grew older, I wondered why mother pursued the course of action that she did. I learned that it was because she grew up in a family of five girls who constantly played dress-up, did each other's hair, and had little contact with men and boys. When I was born, mother was disappointed that I was a boy and gradually let her feelings take over, resulting in my feminization. I could go into all kinds of detail about this. (A girlfriend tells me I should write a book) But I will share one thing in this letter that I think changed me forever. The summer that I turned six, I spent July and August at my maternal grandmother's home in one of our eastern states. My mother's youngest sister lived with her and I was the apple of their eye. To say that they doted on me would be too mild a statement. Both knew that mother dressed me as a girl at home. This information of course was never to be divulged to my father. Knowing this, they had no hesitation about making me their little girl for the summer. My grandmother had many friends and the ladies of the rural community in which they lived, used to go to each other's birthday parties. There were usually four or five a summer. They would have a big lunch, sing Happy Birthday, and just enjoy one another's company. It was a totally female gathering, except for me. Because there were just women, and sometimes a daughter or two there, grandmother and my aunt liked to dress me as a girl for the parties. It was kind of a game for them and they even went out of their way to go to town to buy me a party dress. (My father would die if he knew) Because my dad and mom lived in a big city far away, they were not afraid that dad would unexpectedly show up and see his son looking like a little princess. They felt safe in telling the women I was a "special boy" and while a couple of the ladies had raised eyebrows, most thought of it as innocent fun. In their eyes no harm was being done. They fussed over me, went out of their way to talk to me, gave me their own daughter's dolls to play with, and generally did everything possible to help me forget I was a boy. Were they successful? Yes. I found myself identifying with the women, enjoying their attention, and receiving their nice comments about how pretty my dress was, about what a nice girl I was, and how they wished they had a daughter like me. By the time the summer was over, I was ready to go back to being mother's little girl again. I guess my post-summer, outward behavior was different because dad began to buy me boy things when we got back, such as a baseball glove, a toy six-shooter, (of which my mother did not approve) and even a little Pittsburgh Pirates uniform. Dad was big into baseball. Little did he know that during the day when he was at work, those things stayed in the closet and were replaced by dresses, slips, panties and dolls. I should mention that mother was not callous in sending me away for that summer. When I was six, she took a summer job to help supplement the family income by working for the telephone company. She did not wish to leave me at home alone. Besides, she knew that grandmother and her sister would treat me well. As I reflect on my childhood, I have no regrets. I was encouraged but not forced, loved and not abused, and I became a true admirer of all things feminine. My mother and dad divorced when I was seven, enabling mother to step up my feminine training, but that is another story. Knowing how my father loved my mother, it was hard for me to understand the divorce, but I learned that dad had a roving eye and I think there was unfaithfulness involved. My mother never talked about it after the separation. Today, as an adult, I have understanding girl friends who like what they call my gentle and sensitive nature, unlike some of the uncouth and insensitive males that they know. I enjoy being accepted as one of them and thank my mother to this day for the unusual but delightful upbringing that she gave me. I am sure some will say, "Nice fantasy, Judi," but I honestly do not care if I am believed or not. What happened, happened, and I will always cherish the memories. You do not have to publish this if you do not wish to, but I did want to write because I have always loved and appreciated your web site, first under Susan and now under you. It is encouraging to know that there are others like me who have perhaps a unique appreciation for the world of women and girls that was acquired in a very special manner. Thank you for taking the time to read a few things about my life. From the few details I know about you, you are familiar with the joyful aspects of feminization, so I know that you will understand. Love, Judi Thank you for your letter Judi. Once again, loving feminization can accomplish as much as force. Mothers take note! Auntie Helga |