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Concerning Mom

March 8, 2012

These days I wonder how much mom knows or assumes about my crossdressing.  I have seriously considered talking to her about it.  There were a lot of times when I wore her clothes that she might have noticed.  I did try to put everything back just as I had found it, so I might have secured my secret.  Since the day that she found my hose stash were there any other events that let her know something odd was going on?  I can think of two other events that happened when I was either a pre-teen or during my early teenage years that might stand out.

One Sunday afternoon, I was in mom’s room sitting on her bed.  She was in there too doing something.  Basically we were just hanging out.  She went to the bathroom.  While she was out, I decided to pick up the pantyhose that were sitting nearby (on the bed or bedside table, I forget) and pull them onto my foot and lower leg.  I debated, and then took action.  I worked my thumbs down to the toes of one leg.  I pulled the hose over my foot.  Then mom came out and walked back into the room.  I said, “Let’s get tacky!”  She responded, “Don’t put a run in those.”  My plan was to pull them up to my knee and when she came out say “Let’s get tacky!”  Then while she was back in the room I would say something about wanting to feel what they were like and say how nice they were, etc.  I was trying to open up the conversation about them and express that they felt nice.  With any hope, it would lead to, “Can I try them on all the way?” or something like that.  I chickened out.  I suppose from her perspective, she might think she walked in on me doing something and she caught me.  However, her reaction was similar to how she would have reacted if I was trying on a boring white sock.  We crossdressers tend to put WAY more importance on trying on women’s clothes than women do.  Pantyhose are SO significant to us because they seem so feminine.  But I think women see them as socks.

The second event is this:  My sister had a new dress.  It was a late 80’s dress with big flowers and shoulder pads, etc.  I believe it was white and mid calf length.  I had to try it on.  One other Sunday afternoon, I went to her room and carefully snook out with it in hand.  I went into my room and tried it on. After a little while, I took the dress off. I hung it on my closet door and got dressed in my clothes.  Then I walked out of my room, totally forgetting to put her dress back where I found it.  Later, mom walks in and fussed at me for having it in my room.  She did not ask any questions that I can remember.  Perhaps she asked a rhetorical, “What is this doing in here?” but I believe that I was not pressed to give any information.  Immediately, I put the dress back into my sister’s room and I do not recall there being any more conversation about it at all.  This really makes me think mom knew something already.  When someone knows something already, they are less likely to ask questions.  Finding your daughter’s dress in your son’s room should make you ask questions, I think.

I plan on posting about this later, but I’ll drop it in now.  Years later, my mom helped me dress like a woman for a costume thing.  She laughed like it was so new and entertaining.  She did not act uncomfortable like I was doing my dirty secret in front of her.  She was fun and helpful about it.  It was the first time I had openly worn anything in front of her.

I don’t know.  Maybe one day I will talk to her about it.  Maybe…

From → True Stories

One Comment
  1. For us CDs womens’ clothes, especially pantyhose and lingerie have a mythical, magical component that I do not believe exists for most women. I agree that while pantyhose is special for you and me for some women it is like a sock.

    They tell some people do not ask a question if you do not know what the answer will be of if you do not want to know the answer. I surmise that these thoughts may have been in your mom’s head. That and the fact that no mother wants her child to feel pain or be uncomfortable and she may have realized that giving you the third degree would have flummoxed you.


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