Understanding what it means to really live what you believe

Experienced the disdain of her highness tonight.   I saw a 7-way adjustable bra on a tv ad while watching with SO, and asked her how it could adjust seven ways, and she asked me, what, do you want one?  I smiled and nodded and said uh, yeth!  She asked me when I first remember dressing, and I said 11 or 12.  She asked me, why I do not know, did you dress up in your mom’s underwear?  I said, yes.  She said, Ewwwh; Isn’t that kind of incestuous?  I said, no, it was what I had available to me.  I did not ever think of it in incestuous terms.

I had a curiosity about mom’s underthings as standalone objects, so to speak, and I was unabashed about looking in her dresser drawer one day as a shy, young boy.  I never fantasized about my mother, but I did dress up in her underwear when I was alone.  I loved the silken feeling on my bare body, and I loved to don one of her bras, and stuff it with tube socks to simulate breasts.

I remember being fascinated by her lipstick as a pre-schooler.  She used to give me a little tiny tube to toy with when we were in church, and I was being too ‘busy’.  I would wind it out, and back in again, and it was usually red, although I think she also had pink.  Avon, a friend.  I even dressed up in mom’s clothes, one day, and . . . well, let’s just say that one of my siblings saw me as an “out” transvestite on at least one occasion at around age, maybe 15?  C’est la vie.  SO and I never discussed any of this before we wed, I thought it was all behind me from that point forward.  It emerged only after a few years of marriage, at first in small ways.  But a gradual emergence throughout my marriage, 18 years now.

The psychology that created this, perhaps it was physiology, or even chemistry . . . life is so interesting, to me.

Kisses!  KM


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