At school I was never into boys stuff like play-fighting, football (soccer) or any rough and tumble games you normally associate with boys.

If ever I got hit by a ball I would immediately burst into tears and at seeing this boys in my class would call me a sissy, in fact, sissy became my nickname. At home I would do feminine things like sew and cook, which my mother taught me how to do. She too noticed how I was more into girl’s things rather than the things boys would play with.

When I was 11 I went into my parent’s bedroom and while there I found a black skirt, which I later learned, was made from taffeta. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to try it on. I also found some nylon knickers (panties) which I also wore under the skirt. I’ll never forget the feel of both the skirt and knickers and how much freedom I got from the skirt. It rustled while I walked about the bedroom. Whenever I got the chance I would wear not only that but more of my mother’s clothes.

I loved looking at girls clothes in my mother’s mail order catalogues and when she taught me to knit she thought it a good idea that I started to knit girl’s and boys’ pullovers. She showed me how read knitting patterns and one time I bought some tracing paper and would trace over the bottom half of the picture of a girl on the front cover of a girl’s knitting pattern and then I would trace the head of a boy from a boy’s knitting pattern on the same tracing paper where the girl’s head should have been.

By the time I was 14 I really wanted to wear girl’s clothes and I confessed to my mother that I had been wearing some of her clothes. She was shocked at first, and through the tears I told her about what was happening to me at school and when I showed her my tracings she said that maybe I’d be more happier in skirts than trousers so she bought me my first set of girls clothes. From then on I only wore trousers to school, but skirts everywhere else.

Its funny how mother's seem to know about these things. I think she suspected what was going on at school as I always used to come home with the signs that I'd been crying. Her suspicions must have been further aroused at the amount of times she caught me looking at girls clothes in her mail order catalogs.

I frequently got told off at school for not paying attention, especially toward home-time in the afternoon. My mind was on the fact that when I got home I would come out of trousers and go into skirts. When I got home, my mother would have the clothes waiting for me to step into. A nice blouse with Peter Pan collar, a pleated skirt, some panties, white ankle socks and a pair of Mary Jane shoes. My legs felt liberated as soon as I was out of my trousers and into my skirt, and to feel the cool air on my mare knees and legs was sheer bliss.


Sheridan was the daughter of one of my mother's friends who lived at the other end of the street. She often called at the house with a message from her mother who I called Auntie Lillian. There was a year's difference between Sheridan and me, she being my junior. She was unaware of my girlish tendencies although I felt like telling her on many occasion, but I could never summon up the courage to do so. 

Now that I was wearing skirts at home, I had to be careful not to rush to the door or keep clear of the windows in case any boys from school or the neighbourhood boys saw me. I let my guard down one day and went to answer the knock and found Sheridan on the doorstep. She looked surprised when she saw how I was dressed and I could see she was resisting the temptation to burst into one of her girlish laughs. I quickly invited her in and told mother that Sheridan was here.

She came in from the kitchen where she was baking and getting lunch prepared. She could see Sheridan was bursting to know why I was wearing a skirt, so mother explained that inside me was a little girl that had to be let out every so often; otherwise the boy part of me would become very sad. She went on to say that the boy part wanted so much to wear dresses and what girls wore, that the only way he could wear them was to allow the girl that was part of me to come out and play.

What came next really surprised my mother and me, Sheridan came over to where I was sitting, she laid a hand on my skirt and with her other hand she held mine and said, "let me be your sister, we can have some fun times together, you look so much better in skirts than trousers."

I had a lump in my throat and I wanted to cry, mother looked at me and smiled and then she thanked Sheridan for being so understanding. For the first time in my life I was no longer alone, I felt as though I had my first real friend and she was Sheridan.
CorduroyBoy CorduroyBoy
46-50, M
4 Responses Jun 26, 2012

How wonderful that you had an understanding mother and best friend:)

I liked your story. I used so take the girls clothing pictures out of mail order catalogues and cut a slot in them so i could put in a picture of my face in their beautiful clothes. Needless to say, in the next few years i was trying on my mothers things. I never got over the joy of wearing feminine things. Friend please to share pictures and memories.

Great story, thanks for sharing. I also started at an early age and have never looked back. Best wishes to you.

That was a very beautiful story and memory of yours. I wish that everyone could be as understanding as your friend