Have you ever built a jigsaw puzzle? What was the biggest one you did? You look at those hundreds, or thousands, of tiny little odd-shaped pieces. Then you put them together in just the right order and take a step back to reveal "the big picture".
I'm approaching an age milestone of 50 in a couple of months and I feel compelled to look back at the pieces of the puzzle of my life and determine if I like my "big picture".
Am I happy with the current end result? Could I have done it better? What's missing?
If my wisdom and experiences have taught me anything, it's that time travel doesn't exist and getting caught up in would-have, could-have and should-have scenarios will yield me absolute nothing but regret.
The pieces that make our lives are all different. Every decision we make created another piece of the puzzle. Some are smoothe, some are not so smoothe and others are downright jagged. Yet they all fit together somehow. We are the product of our puzzle pieces, both the good and the bad. They are what make us the unique individuals we are.
I thought about sharing some of my puzzle pieces with the digital world as a form of my memoirs. I hope you like it and will come back to read about my next pieces as I write about them.
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The seed from which Veronica sprouted from was planted by none other than my mother when i was as young as two years old. She made it known that she really wanted a daughter, but she got me instead.
That didn't stop her from growing out my hair, as was common in the 70's, and even dressing me in clothing meant for girls as a toddler because she thought I looked so cute. Later, she put me in thick opaque tights under my pants so "I would not be cold" well into my first years in school. I didn't think anything of it. After all, I was only five years old and she was my loving mom who would not do anything to hurt me, her son.
After kindergarten, the tights and long hair were gone, but the seed had been planted. Of course I could not have known it then. All I knew is that I was inexplicably drawn to my mom's strappy flat sandals and Mary Jane flats. I just could not stop thinking about how they would look and feel on my feet. I knew they were meant for girls but I didn't care. I just knew I had to try them on when she was not watching.
I cannot fully describe the rush of feelings going thru my 7-year old mind when I put on the sandals that were several sizes too big. The feeling of the little leather straps that tightened on the skin of my feet as I pushed off to take a step then the relaxing of the straps as I planted was like nothing I could imagine.
Then I'd hear my mom finishing up whatever she was doing so I'd quickly, but carefully place her shoes back in the closet and sneak back to my room.
These are my earliest memories of my journey as a crossdresser.
To be continued...
