I honestly do not know what compelled me. I don't know why it happened today. I just know that it did.
I am alone for the holiday. My family is away and I have stayed behind. I was feeling under the weather but I also just needed a bit of alone time. I've spent the past few days in a NyQuil coma and have watched a few movies.
I awoke this morning feeling better. After taking a shower, I remembered that I have wanted to revisit something I haven't done in a few decades. I went to the drawer and pulled out an older pair of womens underwear.
Over the past few years, I have been dealing with questions of gender. I know I'm queer. I know I'm pansexual. I have come to terms that I am non-binary, but haven't taken too many steps to explore that more. I wear a pronoun pin at work (He/They) but don't really discuss it with anyone. I have also realized that I would like to have a vagina where my scrotum is. I've researched this and daydreamed about having the surgery. I'm not sure that I will, but I do think about it a lot. In a way, I have truly felt more like a transmasc man than a non-binary person. I don't know why, but it has been the best way for me to describe to myself how I feel. I don't know what that means and haven't been in therapy long enough to breach my questions of gender.
What I haven't thought about were the times that I have worn womens underwear. It has only been a few times over the span of my almost 50 years. The first time I was a child. My sister and I were in our bedroom and I asked her to trade underwear with me. She wouldn't so I went into her dresser when she fell asleep, pulled out a pair, and went to the bathroom to try them on. They were light blue, cotton, and had some sort of design on them. I wasn't worried about any of that. I just had to know how they felt on me. I can vividly remember pulling them up my legs and feeling them rest snugly against my buttocks and front side. I remember how wonderful they felt compared to the white boys briefs I was accustomed to wearing. I then remember my mother busting into the bathroom after my sister had woken her up to tell her what I was doing. I was made to feel ashamed of what I was doing. I was told that boys don't do those sorts of things. I was told to never do this again.
Approximately 15 years later, I did do it again. At the time I was dating and living with an older man. He was 20 years my senior and I myself had only 20 years under my belt. I don't know what came over me that morning. He was at work, I had the day off. I hopped into my car and went to the closest discount store. Nervously, I stepped into the womens department and quickly walked to the rows of panties; some neatly folded, others hanging on a large display wall. I didn't know what size I might need, so I found a nondescript black pair with no frilly stuff that looked my size and added them to my cart. This was a time before self checkout lanes, so I found some other items to put in the cart to hopefully distract the cashier from noticing that one of these things were not like the buyer, but I probably gave everything away with the sweat pouring from my brow and the nervous small talk that I tried to engage them in. Nevertheless, I made it out of the store and headed back to our home. Once I arrived, I bolted into the house, undressed, and pulled the fabric up my legs and over my buttocks and genitals. I had only known of what tucking might be from watching Silence of the Lambs, so I awkwardly pushed my genitals back between my legs and stood looking at myself in the mirror. I remember feeling good, but full of shame. I remember being transported back to that bathroom as a kid and hearing my mother scold me. The same mother that asked me to keep my voice down when I was asking for her help after a former boyfriend had assaulted me. I removed the panties from my body, and put them in a bag of miscellaneous items to hide until discarding them a year later when I met a woman that I would end up marrying at the age of 21.
Almost 30 years later, married for a second time, with kids, a job, a mortgage, the desire to try on a pair of underwear that wasn't gendered toward men came to me again. It's been in the back of my head for months, but in a passing way, not something that if felt I HAD to do. As I was drying off from my shower, the thought popped into my head again and I allowed myself to be open to it. I walked over to the dresser and found a pair of black panties. I did not think they would fit, but decided to go ahead. I pulled them up my legs, feeling the fabric grab at hair along the way. When I reached my midsection with the garment, I stopped, did a proper tuck, and pulled them up to secure everything in place. They felt nice. It wasn't an Earth shattering moment, but I didn't feel any shame. I felt normal.
It was at this moment that I saw a bra in the drawer. I have never tried on a bra. I have never had the desire. I'm not sure why I reached for it and slipped it over my chest, but I did. It did not look weird, it did not look out of place, it did not look bad. It felt good. I rubbed the fabric over my chest, i felt it move back and forth over my useless nipples. It felt good.
What followed was more than an hour of me trying on womens clothes from our closet. I have never had a desire to wear womens clothes. I loved how I felt in these garments. I had moments of audible gasping as I looked at myself in the mirror. I had feelings that I can only describe as euphoric. I kept saying "oh, my" , in shock of how I looked and felt, the rush of feeling new, and pretty....I felt, pretty. I've never wanted to feel pretty, but I felt pretty today in skirts and blouses and dresses, and I really liked it.
I was turned on wearing the clothes, but it was in a way that I haven't felt before. I wasn't purely sexual, although I did have an erection for a while and kept pulling the dresses and skirts up to show my imaginary masculine suitor the panties underneath. I wanted them to see how cute my flat pubic area was and how cute my belly looked in the full coverage panties that I was wearing. I felt desirable.
After I tried on everything that I could, I looked in the mirror and asked myself out loud "am I trans?". I asked myself over and over again, but the answer did not come. "Am I just a crossdresser?" followed. I didn't have the answer to this either.
I have to wonder if this was always there and I just never allowed myself to even think of donning a female gendered wardrobe. I have to wonder if not understanding what transgender is has stunted my looking into whether I could be myself. I am still unpacking all of this. I am also researching sizing and planning to go to a thrift store tomorrow. I don't know if I will purchase anything, but I want to. I also want to talk to my wife. She asked me if I was trans once before. I answered no, but told her that I have always wanted a vagina. I had never told anyone else that before (still haven't).
If anyone out there has gone through the same emotions, scenarios, etc. and has some advice or guidance, I would love to hear from you. I will have an interesting appointment with my therapist this week.
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