As a young boy growing up in the 1950's, my mother wouldn't hesitate to undress and dress in my presence.  She obviously felt comfortable, and this meant I saw her many times get out of her slacks or housedress, put on nylons and all kinds of beautiful dresses, complete with crinolines and slips.  One very fond memory is her putting on her nylons with me sitting next to her on the bed.   After dressing, she would apply makeup always ending with her lipstick.   When I was 6 (and I remember because I had just started grade one), I was there by her side hanging in her room as she got dressed to go out one evening.  This was before the babysitter came.  My parents had a large full size mirror, and she always stood in front of it as she put on her makeup.  On this occasion, as she did it, I told her I wanted to try the lipstick too.  She smiled and said, "Don't be silly - lipstick is for girls and you're a boy."  I insisted, and insisted and finally she gave in.  She told me to sit on the bed next to her and started to apply the lipstick on me.   Once she put it on my top lip she then showed me how to roll the colour onto my lower lip.  And then she filled it in.  I knew how to do it anyway from having observed her so many times.  After she was finished she told me to come to the mirror and look.  I remember her also saying "you look so sweet, you would make a beautiful little girl with that round face of yours."   I remember saying to her that it would be fun, as I admired myself.  She took the lipstick off after a few minutes and said, "We don't want your babysitter to see you like that."

That night was like a watershed for me.  I had already been secretly trying on her panties for awhile and thought how lucky girls were that they could wear such pretty clothes all the time.   There was even a picture of me in the family photo album showing me in diapers while trying to walk in my mother's  high heels (caught in the act).   I felt so excited and happy being there with my mother, hearing the rustling of her crinolines under her dress and smelling her perfume.  The next week, as she was going through the same dressing routine, I insisted once again that she put the lipstick on me.  This time she did it without a lot of fuss and she even said, "You're so pretty, I should get you a dress too.  Would you like that?"  I was mesmerized and mumbled out an OK.   The very next day when I got home from school, she called me into her bedroom and said she had something special for me.   When I walked in, there on her bed laid out so beautifully was a gorgeous yellow dress with puffy sleeves and lace on the front and edges.  There was also a very poufy white crinoline with lace trim, a pair of very lacy white panties and little socks and shoes as well.   She said, "Come on, you wanted to be a girl, let's see how you look."   I was literally speechless as my own mother pulled down my pants and underwear and helped me into the frilly panties and crinoline.  Then the beautiful dress which was so soft and puffy, than the the ankle socks and shoes.   She insisted that I shouldn't look in the mirror yet, but wait until she was finished.  I loved the feeling of being dressed as a girl with such pretty clothes and kept feeling the material of the dress and enjoying the lovely sensation of the silky nylon panties rubbing against the skirt.  My mother then pulled out a paper bag and said, "Here's something that will make you so sweet."  It was wig!  When she put it on my head it came halfway to my shoulders. All the time, she was smiling and I think having a great time, too; she treated me so nicely.  After the wig she said, "Ok go have a look."   I couldn't believe the person looking back at me in the mirror.   It was the cutest little girl and it was me!  I was so happy I actually began to cry, and my mother came over and held me to her.  She asked me if she had gone too far and it was time to end this game.  I remember sobbing and telling her I was so happy that I wish I could dress like this all the time.  We then sat on the bed and she explained to me that I couldn't dress like a girl all the time and that this was our special secret that know one else could know about.  Since my father always came home past 6 o'clock, she said as soon as I got home from school I could dress up, but had to be a boy again by 6.  Over the next few weeks, my mother bought me a supply of panties, a few more dresses and accessories and taught me how to do my hair in a ponytail or pigtails.  She even gave me a girl's name, Nerissa.  She said had I been born a girl, that's the name I would of had.   I'll always be thankful to my mother for giving me a girlhood of sorts.

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