No matter who asked her, Mom always used to say, “I love all my children equally.” You have to give her credit for diplomacy, because I always knew I was her favorite. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking – my siblings probably thought they were Mom’s favorite too, but there are certain signs that kids pick up on, and I knew…

For example, when trouble was brewing and Mom was angry, she would very sternly and carefully interrogate my brothers; but when she came to me, she always spoke more gently. The reason behind that gentleness may have been because I was rarely at the root of any shenanigans that were going on; or maybe because I was a little more sweet and sensitive than the other boys – but I think it was because she just liked me better. Wouldn’t you like your sweetest, best behaved child the most?

But Mom did have her problems dealing with me sometimes. I was a well-behaved child generally, but I did some strange things in the privacy of my bedroom. I don’t know what triggered it – my sweet, sensitive nature; my love and adoration for my mother; or just an irresistible curiosity – but by the time I was seven years old, I was a habitual cross-dresser. Of course, at seven it is nearly impossible to purchase a feminine wardrobe, so my mother would frequently discover that items of clothing were missing from the laundry. Most of her stuff didn’t fit me at seven, so it was mostly lingerie. Eventually she realized her clothes weren’t just getting eaten by the clothes dryer.

Let’s face it; it isn’t too hard to detect a seven-year-old stealing your clothing, especially when the older brothers are busy climbing trees and causing all sorts of mischief. The first time I was caught I was wearing my mom’s white nylon panties, her black pantyhose, and a long, silky, white blouse I’d seen her wear. I was humiliated when I got caught, and she seemed heartbroken that her favorite child should want to be something other than her sweet little boy.

But, as I explained, she was always diplomatic, and she very gently explained that boys don’t wear that kind of clothing, and it isn’t acceptable for me to play games like that. Of course, that left me an escape from my humiliation, because kids are supposed to play games, right? What she didn’t know at the time was that I was already infatuated with cross-dressing. It was no longer a game to me by that time.

But I apologized and promised to stop playing dress-up in her clothes. I was an honest and sensitive child and I did stop stealing her clothes. Of course, I didn’t promise to stop cross-dressing, and I couldn’t have if I had promised. I just had to get clothes as they were discarded. I volunteered for household trash duty. I would secretly rifle through all the trash bins in and around her room looking for any scraps of clothing. It probably took a year, but I eventually had a small collection of discarded female clothes of my own.