Transvestia

For many years, every night before falling asleep my thoughts played with the same subject... How a boy becomes a girl. Stories were invented night after night or the same story would continue several nights, while I went over it in detail. All these fictions were invented by me with or without an outer inspiration. The more details, the better. This mental work, a sort of men- tal cross dressing, pleased me immensely. The curious thing was that I had an inner feeling that some day my fantasies would come true.

Born in 1920, I was the only child of my parents and on the whole brought up as most other boys. My mother and father were proud of having a son, and they were not longing for a little daughter. Girls were good for nothing. I was dressed as other boys at that time wearing long stockings up to my 9 years. I remember that I always wanted the stockings to be streched on my legs and that I hated wrinkles. I was allowed to play at home with little dolls and, together with my mother I sewed doll's dresses for them. However, at the same time I could play with tin soldiers, toy theatre and mechanical construction sets. I also loved to draw and paint for which I had and still have a certain talent. Only a few times during my childhood did I have the opportunity to secretly put on feminine clothes, but in my dreams, I could live freely as a girl and loved it. However, on one occasion I put on one of my mother's discarded dresses. It was too big for me naturally, but I had a strong sensation when wearing this dress. It gave me a feeling of what pleasures the future might bring. One day my mother saw me in her dress and laughed. From that day I did not play with it any more.

Several other times I had to put on a woolem cordi- gan belonging to a girl of my age. It would happen when my mother and I visited the girl's mother and it was too cold for me to play outside with only my shirt on. On such occasions I could also borrow a pair of her

3