I'm From Driftwood

by Patrick Holmes

As a kid, I wasn’t exactly the usual boy. Sure I loved my matchbox cars and I liked to play video games but that was only one side of me. The other side of me loved to go to my grandma’s house and try on all of her high heels and walk around the house. That side of me also liked to play Barbies with my little sisters and dress them up and do their hair. He liked to play dress up with them and try on all the girly clothes and accessories. I never really thought anything of it as a kid. I thought it was normal and I didn’t care what people thought of me and my mom never thought anything of it. Mostly because I was her first child but it also didn’t bother her.

I can remember when I was about 7, I went over to my aunt’s house and she painted my toe nails. Each one was painted a different color and I loved it. I loved makeup too. I always wanted to put some on and be pretty but it never happened. My sisters were too young to have makeup and I never bothered asking my mom if I could use her’s. This was all very normal for me and I can remember that I was a very innocent child. I actually tried on one of my best friend’s dresses when I was about 8 and it fit perfectly. She then called in our moms and they saw me and were a little shocked but they seemed fine with it. They actually looked kind of happy but I was a little embarrassed so I took it off immediately.

Those are all the memories I have of being a girly child. I still think it would be fun, even at 15, to wear makeup and have your nails painted and wear dresses but I’m not the kind of person to do drag. I’m not very girly anymore. I hid that side of me for a while and it’s just starting to come back out and I’m ready to let it out. I’m happy again.

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by April Christy

I was born a male but decidedly so, I was born a female mentally. It has been a terrible dichotomy for me to live. I am 6’8″ tall and weigh 300 pounds. It is a trial both mentally and physically to try to emulate a female in today’s society. I still live behind closed doors and love to indulge in my fantasies of living as a woman in pretty things that I adore, exorbitant dresses and pretty high heels. I can’t imagine being a 7-foot-tall woman in heels; that wouldn’t pass anywhere but a drag fest! As a male, I cause a ruckus in any room I enter, never mind as a woman.

A few years back I became very agitated about being so closeted and had a conversation with my ever-loving wife who had totally accepted me for nearly thirty years. I wanted to come out to my family, which at that point in life numbered just a small handful, no parents. I decided that life is too short to live that way and was going to tell them at the holidays. Perhaps it would cause even more of a schism in our lives, or perhaps not. I dressed for the event. It was the quickest way to get this “femaleness” out there and it also gave a “no road out” answer to me punking out during my self-exposure. I kept it simple. I have some natural boobs so no padding was needed, and I wore a lurex threaded holiday sweater and longer black skirt with tights, very light make up, and slippers. I enjoy the clothing much more than trying to make up this rather male face to look female.

They all entered and the general consensus was, why are you dressed like that, and I just told them straight up that this is how I like to dress and this is who I really am. No one there said they hated me for it or left or disowned me. I was happily shocked and smiled the rest of the long weekend as I gave them a fashion show with everything I owned that was clean and worthy of being “out,” however small the crowd was. I was critiqued with some clothing I showed off. “That’s too short,” my 20-year-old nephew stated as I was showing a bit too much underwear under a very short skirt. It always stuck with me that I became the “weird uncle,” and that they all were trying to help me pass! My sister works in the fashion industry and she shared stocking advice and a very beautiful nightgown that Christmas; it was finally like being her sister!

After it was over and my wife and I had time to reflect on the holiday, I was so happy that my trepidations were unfounded, and short of telling the rest of the real world about myself, I was accepted in some way and that left me with a very great feeling. Partly because I know what many others have had to deal with in their lives. So now years later it is no big deal with them, and I do not throw it up in their faces either, I just know in my mind that I can be myself with them and I can express how I truly feel. If I see a woman in a great skirt, I don’t just ogle her for being a hot chick but jealous of how she looks in that skirt. If I make that comment while with my brother he doesn’t give it a second thought, but also doesn’t share my feelings about the skirt, he may ogle her for her being a sex object like most men would.

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