You could make them short and you could make them long.
“Get that filthy thing out of your hand! You are not to play with those!” she would tell me sternly.
“But what is it Mommy?” “You do not need to know what those are.”
Here was a challenge for the Squirrel . “What are these things?”
“Look there is some icky stuff on this one. It looks kinda like blood.”
“Look in the box Cindi,” the Squirrel prodded. There were clean ones in there. I stole one from the box. “After you open this, you must destroy the evidence . ”
I tore the package apart and saw that new ones had a soap on a string thing. “Hmm, what is this for?”
“Look in the box Cindi.” And then I discovered a small pamphlet with drawings. And I hid in the bathroom with the door locked while I read this thing. It was difficult. I was only in first grade and I had to sound out the words. And many of them were things that I didn’t understand. But the drawings belied all. Not only was I not a girl, I was so physically different. I decided to keep the pamphlet. I put it in my secret place with my Barbie. As the years went by, I slowly was able to understand each word and each piece of anatomy described in the pamphlet. It was well worn and yellowed by the time it went into the trash.
8, 9, 10, My birthdays came and went. The Rusty stopped making his appearances in my dreams. I had known for some time that the Rusty and Squirrel weren ’t real. I remembered and dreaded the mere thought of them . I knew the fear and shame of being seen in girl clothes. Rusty had shown me. I could never, ever forget the Rusty. Rusty faded away from my dreams b ut Squirrel never left my waking consciousness . The Squirrel was not a childhood nightmare. The Squirrel was my deep seated and conscious secret thoughts. I t learned to run faster.
In my early teens, the activity of dressing up turned sexual. One night as I was dressed in my girl clothes, I had the sudden urge to run to the bathroom. Instead of urine, a white creamy material fell into the toilet. I knew that it was sperm. I knew that I had committed an egregious sin. I was so ashamed and I vowed to never again dress up. My promise to myself lasted one week. The sexual aspects clouded my true desires from that point forward. It confused me. I could not understand why the act of becoming a girl forced this thing to happen to me. The Squirrel told me I was a pervert and I knew that it was true.
There could be no other person in the entire world as disgusting and perverted as I. What was I becoming? How would everyone treat me when they found out? I knew that I would surely die if anyone did find out. And I knew deep in my heart that I wanted to be caught. I needed the release, to be punished, for my maleness to die. But my stash was never discovered and I was never “caught” wearing girl clothes. There was one close call.
Mom and Dad left for a special event and I would have hours at home and alone. This would be a few hours when I would be a girl for the whole time. I took my boy clothes off and went to the bathroom to put on my girl clothes. Mom had forgotten something. They had returned and I had not heard the truck outside. The back door opened with a sonic boom in my ears. “Oh Crap! They are home.” What was I going to do? My boy clothes were in my bedroom. I was dressed as a girl standing in the bathroom. I quickly removed my precious articles and hid them in the hamper under a skanky wet towel.
I quickly washed the makeup from my face and then I walked out with my boy shorts on to see what was up. Mom looked at me and asked sternly “what are you doing with your clothes off?’ Now the Squirrel had always helped me prepare a backup plan, a path of retreat, and always, a clever answer. I stood there stupefied. The Squirrel had not anticipated that they would return after only 15 minutes. Of course the very best answer in the world would have been that I was preparing to take a
“Get that filthy thing out of your hand! You are not to play with those!” she would tell me sternly.
“But what is it Mommy?” “You do not need to know what those are.”
Here was a challenge for the Squirrel . “What are these things?”
“Look there is some icky stuff on this one. It looks kinda like blood.”
“Look in the box Cindi,” the Squirrel prodded. There were clean ones in there. I stole one from the box. “After you open this, you must destroy the evidence . ”
I tore the package apart and saw that new ones had a soap on a string thing. “Hmm, what is this for?”
“Look in the box Cindi.” And then I discovered a small pamphlet with drawings. And I hid in the bathroom with the door locked while I read this thing. It was difficult. I was only in first grade and I had to sound out the words. And many of them were things that I didn’t understand. But the drawings belied all. Not only was I not a girl, I was so physically different. I decided to keep the pamphlet. I put it in my secret place with my Barbie. As the years went by, I slowly was able to understand each word and each piece of anatomy described in the pamphlet. It was well worn and yellowed by the time it went into the trash.
8, 9, 10, My birthdays came and went. The Rusty stopped making his appearances in my dreams. I had known for some time that the Rusty and Squirrel weren ’t real. I remembered and dreaded the mere thought of them . I knew the fear and shame of being seen in girl clothes. Rusty had shown me. I could never, ever forget the Rusty. Rusty faded away from my dreams b ut Squirrel never left my waking consciousness . The Squirrel was not a childhood nightmare. The Squirrel was my deep seated and conscious secret thoughts. I t learned to run faster.
In my early teens, the activity of dressing up turned sexual. One night as I was dressed in my girl clothes, I had the sudden urge to run to the bathroom. Instead of urine, a white creamy material fell into the toilet. I knew that it was sperm. I knew that I had committed an egregious sin. I was so ashamed and I vowed to never again dress up. My promise to myself lasted one week. The sexual aspects clouded my true desires from that point forward. It confused me. I could not understand why the act of becoming a girl forced this thing to happen to me. The Squirrel told me I was a pervert and I knew that it was true.
There could be no other person in the entire world as disgusting and perverted as I. What was I becoming? How would everyone treat me when they found out? I knew that I would surely die if anyone did find out. And I knew deep in my heart that I wanted to be caught. I needed the release, to be punished, for my maleness to die. But my stash was never discovered and I was never “caught” wearing girl clothes. There was one close call.
Mom and Dad left for a special event and I would have hours at home and alone. This would be a few hours when I would be a girl for the whole time. I took my boy clothes off and went to the bathroom to put on my girl clothes. Mom had forgotten something. They had returned and I had not heard the truck outside. The back door opened with a sonic boom in my ears. “Oh Crap! They are home.” What was I going to do? My boy clothes were in my bedroom. I was dressed as a girl standing in the bathroom. I quickly removed my precious articles and hid them in the hamper under a skanky wet towel.
I quickly washed the makeup from my face and then I walked out with my boy shorts on to see what was up. Mom looked at me and asked sternly “what are you doing with your clothes off?’ Now the Squirrel had always helped me prepare a backup plan, a path of retreat, and always, a clever answer. I stood there stupefied. The Squirrel had not anticipated that they would return after only 15 minutes. Of course the very best answer in the world would have been that I was preparing to take a
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