My mother always wanted a daughter. When she first got pregnant she prayed for a daughter. She got my older brother. She figured that her odds for getting a daughter would improve with another pregnancy. She got me. She was disappointed but she didn't give up. A year later, on Christmas Day, she gave birth to a daughter. It was the most glorious day of her life. This is the story I heard repeated in my home. Girls, I grew up believing, were treasured by parents, above boys.
My sister was treated like a princess. In fact, she was a princess in my mother's eyes. She lived a privileged life. I on the other hand, felt as if I was a disappointment. I knew that if I had been born a girl, then my mother would love me more.
When a girl walks into a room everyone would compliment her. Girls were provided with pretty, shiny things to adorn themselves. Little girls were even supposed to be smarter than their male counterparts. Sometimes I would play with something pretty, something shiny. I was interested in nail polish, jewels, satin clothing. "You can't do that," I would be told. "That's for girls." I understood that I was just a boy.
I grew up thinking that society preferred girls over boys, because girls were pretty, smart, and more virtuous. When I was five years old my mother made a dress for a cousin my age. My mother would have me try it on as she checked the hem, and fit. I thought that was great. I felt as sense of fulfillment. Unfortunately my father put a quick end to my early modeling career. My mother was told to stop this. My world was divided into two genders, and I had to stay in my place. I was just a boy. In my world that was a handicap, and I had to learn how to cope with it. For the next few years I would make the best of being a boy.
I believe this over-valued image of females was the glue that hard-wired my brain for its next stage. Unlike some boys who thought that girls had cooties, or who enjoyed deriding them, I was always attracted to girls. I always thought girls were just wonderful. I can't remember a time in my childhood when I didn't think the world of females in general. From the time I was five or six years old I looked forward to being able to have a girlfriend and get married.
Then when I started puberty things changed. My body started producing hormones. I was just beginning to understand about sexual stimulation. My mother had some really fancy old dresses that she kept for sentimental reasons; an old prom dress, a bridesmaid dress, and others. There was one red velvet dress with a built in petticoat that was amazing. Just touching it gave me a thrill. I tried it on and I experienced a powerful rush and my whole body was quivering. I couldn't understand what that was all about, but from that moment on I was addicted.
Most guys can try on feminine clothing and feel nothing but embarrassment. So what was going on with me? It seems as if my brain is hard-wired to release dopamine and a host of the neurotransmitters when I entertain cross-dressing. These neurotransmitters are responsible for the sensations of well-being, pleasure, sexual gratification and self-identity. It affects the reward centers of my brain, and that explains the addiction response. I know that when I masturbate that also releases a sudden rush of neurotransmitters followed by a brief depletion of them. That explains why my fetish is gone immediately after I climax. But why am I different than the majority of other males?
I believe that the most important contribution to my autogynephilia was my early childhood. At a very early age my over-valuation of females caused my brain to because hard-wired in a particulat way. When I reached puberty and cross-dressed, my brain interpreted it as actual contact with a female. Of course there was no one there but me, so was I my own female? Was my brain hard-wired as a defense mechanism for not being a female, and with cross-dressing my identity was searching for a new me.
Do other autogynephiles believe they over-valuing females in their early childhood? Your thoughts are welcome.