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My Long and Rambling Story
Want to know more about me and where I came from? Okay, so here's the place. When I first put up my site, I was reluctant
to do that for various reasons, one of them being that so many of the trans-girls I've admired over the years had similar
bios on their sites, so I didn't think I had anything unique to say. But I've also learned that girls' sites tend to come
and go, that is, sometimes they disappear from the net, so I guess I should go ahead and put my stuff up here in case it helps
anyone, be they a young T-girl in the making, an older person seeking validation through common experiences, a potential friend
wanting to know my background before sending me an email, or whatever.
So
where did it all begin? Well, it's different for every trans, but I think that my experience has been shared by many a young
boy with older sisters. Older sisters like to play with their younger brothers, including dressing them up like girls. I'm
not sure exactly what causes this desire on the girls' part, but I think in the case of the sister who did it to me (I was
4; she was 10), it was kind of an extension of having been toyed with by her (our) oldest sister, liking to "play dress up"
herself, and just some innocent playing around. So my sister dressed me up as a girl a couple of times for fun, and I played
along and did the girl thing. No big deal.
No big deal until the
rest of the family gets wind of it. My older brother completely disapproved, probably because he didn't want his younger
brother looking or acting girly, and he was also developing as a boy himself, so any challenge to those simple norms (like
football! be rough and rugged! speak with a lower voice!) scared him. So if I liked the whole dressing up as a girl thing,
that was wrong and bad and worthy of ridicule. So then I rejected it, too.
When
I think back to when the trans thing really began, when it was something I did on my own as opposed to some sibling playtime
thing, it all goes back to a Tom and Jerry cartoon that I was watching one afternoon after school at age 5. (I got out of
school at noon; my older siblings got out at 3:00.). From what I recall, the episode was a take on the Cinderella story,
and Tom and Jerry had to get the two wicked stepsisters ready for the ball. For some reason, the lead characters were in
a rush and were being very sloppy in primping the girls up, which included either Tom or Jerry putting lipstick on one of
the stepsisters and not paying attention as he got distracted by something, smearing it all over her face until it looked
clown-like. That set off a spark in my 5-year-old self, reminding me of my earlier make-up stuff with my sister. It might
be fun to do the same thing, taking one of my mother's lipsticks and doing that same funny clown-like thing.
Fun until my mother caught me, freaked the hell out, and punished me for it. (Nothing
terribly harsh here, folks. This isn't an abused child story or anything. My parents were more or less decent.) I guess
it was because of the time restraints involved in the specific incident (she found me playing with the lipstick as she was
gathering me up to ride to school with her to pick up my older siblings), but there was no time to wash the make-up off of
me. So I hid in the back of the station wagon, covering my face and knowing I'd done something wrong. I can still remember
my older brother, having been told of what I'd done, seeing me and saying something like, "He looks like some kind of a clown."
So, point taken. Don't do this again. Bad.
But it didn't stop there.
I still played with my mother's make-up when unsupervised, expanding to clothes, not thinking I wanted to be a girl forever
or anything, just sometimes getting a little rise from toying with this forbidden stuff. It was bad and wrong, and sometimes
just doing what is bad, wrong, and forbidden is appealing, particularly to a young child, and especially when the reasons
why it's bad and wrong aren't clearly stated. But my family was straight and proper, and some things just weren't talked
about or said outright. I was caught at least two more times, and I can clearly remember a similar "being caught before picking
up the siblings from school" incident where my mother spanked me as I was getting into the car and saying that if I did it
again, she'd punish me by making me go to school wearing that lipstick and a dress. Just a threat on her part, of course,
not something she ever really would have done (can't embarrass the family like that, you know), but I think that the fear
she put into me that day, the imagined scenario that went through my young mind, was the true basis of my later development
as a trans. (And probably not all that unique. I mean, isn't this where adult males' "sissifying" fetish fantasies come
from? The idea of being forced?)
The next few years were sporadic
in terms of trans exploration. It happened from time to time, but I knew very well that it always had to be secret, lest
I get found out and punished again. Or worse, humiliated by being found out by family or friends. Sexual identity began
being more defined and encouraged the older I got, and because I was raised in a rather close-minded rich white Christian
environment, contempt of homosexuality (transgenderism being sloppily lumped into that category; not like I knew any better
at the time either) was an important factor, too.
I grew up on television
like any other semi-normal American child in the 1980s. I liked the somewhat mindless sitcoms and adventure shows that permeated
prime time then. Cartoons, too. You want to know what my favorite episodes of each of those series were, though? The ones
in which the main characters got changed. Transformed. Like the ones in which the usually noble character got taken over
by some weird influence and was forced to act differently. They're usually the good guy, and now they're acting evil and
doing things they normally wouldn't do because they have no choice, but they're eventually saved by their friends and are
back to normal. I also liked shows like "The Incredible Hulk" where the hero is this perfectly nice guy who can't help but
change into a big monster. Jekyll and Hyde themes were always easily incorporated into other shows, too, and they always
intrigued me. "The Transformers" did, too, because hey, at least those funky robots chose to disguise or reveal thmeselves
at a moment's notice. If only I could do the same.
Drag? Okay,
sure, so that found its way into my entertainment, too. But that was different. You know the story, some guy for some contrived
reason has to dress as a woman, and it's all funny and laughable because it's such a big joke. ("Tootsie" and "Bosum Buddies"
spring to mind, as well as any time when that was the gimmick of the week on any 80s sitcom.) It wasn't a joke for me at
my young age, me with my latent transgendered tendencies and having no idea what all that meant, being taught that any acceptance
of such was an abomination, and don't ever let that come out in yourself. Or at least, don't ever admit it to anyone. So
drag never amused me. Whether it was convincing (passable) or laughable (Milton Berle), it always made me uncomfortable.
Maybe I could laugh because the laugh track was also laughing, but don't look at it too hard, or else it might be "wrong."
(Which of course meant occasionally sneaking into my mother's or sisters' make-up to see how it all felt again. Clothes,
too? Okay.) This was especially true once I entered adolescence and my secret trans-nature blossomed, despite my desire
to keep it under wraps.
Puberty complicated things all the more.
I developed attraction to the girls around me. I also lacked a lot of the returned affection that I hoped for. My libido
grew, and with it, a fascination with the formerly repulsive cootie-infested icky girls who were starting to wear the same
pointy heels, long styled hair and make-up, and interesting clothes that the same attractive women on the TV wore. I was
still straight and wanted to get intimate with these blossoming early-teen girls, but damn, I was also wanting to look like
and be like them, too. It was a constant cycle of "have the desire, give in to it, then feel guilty and push it aside," though.
Rejection by any of these junior and later high school girls only fueled my fetish. I can remember several specific girls
that I was friends with, girls who I would watch put their make-up on in class or spray their hair just right, and I would
simultaneously wish to have sex with them and wish to dress just like them. And when they'd reject my interest, my secret
trans fetish was always there in private to give me the release I needed. I'm simplifying things a lot here for reasons of
brevity, but looking at it years later, this is more or less how it was. When Karen the Gorgeous Model-Looking Girl Whom
I Had a Tremendous Crush On would walk past me in the hall at school and didn't even seem to notice me, that was one of the
main triggers for me to go home from school, steal my sister's clothes and make-up, and do my best to look just like Karen
the Gorgeous Model. I didn't necessarily want to chop my privates off and get a sex change, but briefly fantasizing about
truly becoming a woman was certainly arousing. It was brief and sporadic, though, but little by little, I built up my collection
of hidden clothes and make-up. Stuff that I didn't think the family members I stole it from would miss.
I'll
briefly insert here that I wasn't a complete loser or never had a girlfriend. I did. I had quite a few. Lots of friends,
too. But do you think I ever let them know about this trans side of me? No way. They were fine with me as the guy who was
funny and weird and such. But I knew that if they found out about this, well, no way would I let that happen. In my older
years, 20s and such, I still stuck to this notion. Sure, they might accept me, but I had no desire to be known by my friends
as "the guy who dresses as a girl." And, cowardice aside, I think the main reason for that is that as I grew and developed
as a girl and as a woman, well, that was what I wanted. To be a woman, a girl, first and foremost. Not a "guy who pretends
to be a girl." (Drag? Not appealing. Women? Very appealing.) That's what my friends would have seen me as and joked about
behind my back. (I knew them. They would talk about "Ken, you know, who's gay." Like you couldn't talk about him without
that clarification.) And yes, I know that trans-girls, the REAL trans-girls who actually go through transition and get SRS
and all that go through all of the things I'm balking at, and I don't mean them ANY disrespect whatsoever. In fact, I admire
them. I wish I could have been them. It just didn't work out for me like that. Damn I wish it had. So instead, I'm in
my 30s and wishing I could have had the money or resources to be independent enough to break off from my roots and become
Rebecca full-time. It didn't happen.
Getting back to the narrative:
In my college years, I was single for quite a while, so that left me a lot more time to explore and develop myself as Rebecca.
I still lived at my parents' house, though, which meant that I still had to be very secretive. This meant spending a lot
of late nights locked in my bedroom and creeping around as quiet as possible while videotaping myself in all these sexy outfits
(which I started buying on a regular basis), wigs (ditto), and make-up (that too, and I learned with practice how to do it
well). A lot of what you see on this site, the pictures I mean, is from that video footage, which is why a lot of it isn't
terribly high quality. Back then, I had no idea that I might be putting frames from that footage up online someday, or indeed
that anyone but me would ever see it. The videotapes I made were meant strictly for me, stuff for me to watch and get aroused
when I wasn't able to actually go through the effort of dressing up.
My
growth and growing boldness also meant that I started taking short trips out of town to tape myself out at a nearby lake (usually
pretty quiet and private, especially during the winter months), and that was a lot of fun. Finally, I could walk around and
talk to the camera like the girl I loved being. In time, I got bold enough to explore the small towns nearby and even flirt
with guys I encountered, always being careful not to reveal too much but always loving the attention they gave me. This eventually
led me to going to malls and then gay bars in town and outside of town, but to make a long story short, while I did mix company
with guys, girls, and even other transes who were friendly (in more ways than one), the results were almost always disappointing.
In 1997, I was working at a department store with quite a few young and progressive
people, and I was at the height of my Rebecca-ness, so to speak. Still trapped at "home," that is, my parents' house, (I
was post-college now and stuck in a major rut, but Rebecca was quite a relief and a release for me), I decided for Halloween
1997 to come out to everyone in hopes of being accepted as a girl by them. I took the safe route, though, not just being
a woman but being a woman in costume, that is, in a cheerleader outfit that I'd gotten earlier that year as a sort of tribute
to the cheerleader girls I'd admired in high school. (Kristy Gorgeous Cheerleader shunned me, too, so of course I had to
make myself prettier than her.) It didn't go over like I'd hoped. The girls were jealous of me, and the guys were freaked
out, so I just played it down like it was all a joke, and the guy I met that I did end up messing around with that night turned
out to be kind of a loser. My Rebecca-ness took a sad turn after that, but it never really died.
I
finally moved out on my own in 2000, and that allowed me a lot more freedom in terms of dressing up at home when I wanted
and developing more as a woman. The internet helped, too, but it would be a few years before I finally "outed" myself online
and made the webpage you're seeing now. I've continued to be Rebecca on and off whenever I can and whenever the mood hits
me, and yes, the whole Rebecca thing is an integral part of my personality, something else being on my own has helped me understand.
It's still not something I'm comfortable sharing with the people who know me in my "guy life," which I have to maintain in
order to live and work and pay bills and all of that. If I could somehow live as Rebecca full-time, I'd love to. But I think
I know that that's not very likely. Still, finally getting around to putting up this website and exposing my girly self to
so many people has been a fun thing, and it's changed some of how I feel about being me.
That's
pretty much all I can think to say about me and who I am. There are of course tons of details that I've left out for reasons
of brevity, and if you're curious, I might tell you more. For now, though, this will have to do. I love being a girl and
a woman, and I will continue to do so. There may come a time when I grow tired of this, but that point hasn't come yet, and
I wonder if it ever will.
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