"Layer Upon Layer"
TOPIC NUMBER FIVE
As a child Poufbunny, did you go through the "I hate girls" stage,
or did that not happen?
Suggested by Liesel Siobhan
Did I hate Girls? Of course not but I was very jealous, as they could wear and do things I wanted to, but couldn't! I was born in 1953, with two younger sisters. I was always fascinated by my mother's girdles, garter belts, corsets, bras & nylon stockings. I also loved her heels and makeup, along with her petticoats and slips and dresses! My mom would do my sister's cuticles, and when she was done I would beg her to do mine. She would, and always said my eyelashes were so long and curly and I should have been a girl.
So, growing up, I watched my sisters get their first bras, garter belts, nylons, makeup and heels - also watched the girls in school do the same, all the time yearning to do the same myself. I usually hung out with girls; also I heard their "talk" about all things girly! Got lots of tips. When I was 13, I got up the nerve to try on one of mom's garter belts and a pair of Nylons. As I strutted in front of the mirror I got a funny sensation in my erect penis and had my first orgasm. All due to the lingerie I was wearing. In school I was always looking under a girl's dress to see what type of underwear she was wearing. Got caught & slapped many times!
As I matured, I got the nerve to buy my own lingerie & have been as fminine as possible to this day!
Alicia Rose 11/1/10
I absolutely did not go through a phase of hating girls. Girls were my only real friends for most of my childhood back in the mid- 1950s. For all practical purposes, I lived as a girl for my first six years and took to that life very naturally. Transitioning the other way was the struggle, not that I was unwilling as, I was always willing to do what my family needed me to do. The thing is, being a girl was easy for me. Being a boy was very hard, and I never fully understood them. I knew the rules of the intimate, cooperative, relationship-driven social circles of girls, but was never fully assimilated into the tense, competitive, individualistic, ego-driven world of boys. When boys would argue about something, I would try to play the mediator, as one of the girls always would, and resolve it with the "circle" intact. I was never a leader, always trying to keep the group together, but boys' groups don't function that way. They are more utilitarian, so I would always retreat to contact with girls as relief. Girls I understood, as their world made more sense.
As I've gotten older, my personality is more balanced on both sides of that divide, but for my early years, especially grade and middle school, I had one-and-a-half feet in Girl World, and about one-half a foot in Boy World. Girls are perceptive, so more than once when walking to class with a couple of girls to take time out from Boy World, a girl friend would remark that I would have made a good girl.
Well, I did once! Girls were the best. They were a link to a cherished past and a life preserver as I grew away from that past.
Girls are the friends I will never forget.
I never really ‘hated’ girls but, like all young boys, I went through a phase where I wasn’t that interested in them. I can recall, however, at about age ten admiring young woman of about 18 years old and thinking how nice they looked. By the time I was at an age where I was very interested in girls, full pettis were (in Australia, at least) very much out of vogue – way too hot! Except for deb (debutante) balls, girls didn’t really wear full pettis at all. Now slips and half slips, that was another matter. At that time, in the early sixties, it was not unusual for women to go town or the races (the ‘track’) dressed very formally including hats and gloves. Slips, stockings and suspender belts (garters to you Americans) were mandatory for the well dressed woman about town. A glimpse of a lace hem peaking out from under a skirt or dress was very appealing to a young bloke and probably sparked my near life long interest in soft, lacy feminine garments. ‘Hate’ girls? Not likely!
I had two sisters that were very pretty and the boys were always hanging around our house. Dad said they were 'sniffers,' I did not want anything to do with girls until I was about 14. I would watch my sisters walking around in their bra and panties and even sometimes naked. I told them I hated them and I would do things to piss them off. My big problem came when I took all of my sisters under things and toss them in the trash on the day the trash was to be picked up. Needless to say they were going nuts trying to figure out where their underclothes went. I was sitting back smiling when my mother noticed me she came to me a ask where the girls clothes were I said I did not know. The next thing I knew I was over her lap and my pants and underwear down to my knees being spanked harder than I can ever remember. I was sobbing and begging her to stop. Mother told me to confess and I told the whole story while laying over her lap.
Mother took my two sisters shopping. Later I found out that one of my sisters, while shopping, got the ideal that they should buy me some pretty underwear also, so they did. When they got home my mother made me sit and watch them check out all the new stuff they had bought. I noticed that some of the panties and stuff were small - it never crossed my mind to ask why. But I knew I was going to hate girls even more. Once the clothes were all separated, I saw three piles. I asked if I could go now that they had their fun. Mother told me to undress; I looked at her and it was as if I could read her mind - I darted for the door but my sister caught me. I was dragged back to the table and stripped by those stinking girls. My mother told me it was going to be a spanking or doing as I was told by my sisters. I knew the power of her spanking from before, I bowed my head and stood still as they dressed me in a stupid outfit. I looked into the mirror as I was told and saw a little girl me looking back at me. I started to cry and begged for my old clothes back. Mother told me if I was a good little girl I would get them back in time for the little league ball game tomorrow; if not, I would go to the game in my pretty little outfit. I felt the cotton panties on my butt and the tight training bra as if it were a suit of torture.
My sister made me clean their rooms and wash the dishes and to model the other little outfits they had bought for me. As you can see I had a reason to hate girls. That was until I turned eighteen. I met Lori she was so beautiful and she liked me a lot. We spent many hours together in happy bliss. Then one day I saw her talking to my sister Judy and I wondered what they had to talk about and old feelings came up.
To make this short Judy told her about my punishment when I was younger. But she still wanted to be with me with me even more.
|Mandy R. 10/7/06
I never learned to hate girls. All my life (and I am now in my fifties) I have been reminded of how much my parents and sister wanted a girl. It was my sister who started me cross dressing. Even putting make up on me before she was allowed to wear it herself (she is 10yrs older then I). She even pierced my ears and I wore ear rings. It started before I could walk, and continued till she left for college. I was always encouraged to play with the girls. I never had a teddy bear, just dolls. I remember how she would fondle me while I was dressed as her sister. In middle school, many of the other kids called me queer, and some suggested that I needed a sex change operation. My hips were wider then my shoulders. But I had to start shaving my beard at about age 13. So I guess the male hormones won. Dad told me when I was a teenager that I should keep my legs crossed so I would not get pregnant. Mother and Dad insisted that I shave (every where).
Being the son of a minister you would think that such things would not happened. I am still confused as to whom I am. I am in my second marriage, and some things still confuse me. She likes for me to sleep in her arms, and encourages me to keep my legs shaved. But she wants me to keep my beard. She almost always dresses in casual cloths, which are men's; but in public social occasions that are more formal, she dresses as a woman.
She also enjoys penetrating me. But she will not allow me to wear any women's clothes. Enjoy life for who you are, if you can find out.
I never went through that. I went through the "I hate Boys/Boys are Gross" stage. I was considered one of the "In" Crowd of the girl's groups.
I guess this is part of what has led me to where I am today, as even now I am in a review of my life trying to make heads or tails of it all, wondering how I fit in the grand scheme of things. I guess even by today's standards, I sort of fit in a group all by itself. Perhaps this is by design, as I have had issues with my own gender and I value the relationships I have with my sisters. I can interact with the boys, though my interests are not on the same level. I hate sports, beer, and things that make me dirty. I network to the "experts" for answers and state what is on my mind. These differences are distinctly different than those of the "typical" guy I have run into either in the business world, school, or in the military.
My stage was when I was in high school. I know I should have been liking girls by then, but I resented the way that girls dressed, and made me feel about my body. So, I would run down the halls, and if a girl was facing a locker, I would slap her on the behind. I never thought they cared what I did. But one day, I was minding my own business, and this girl grabbed me by the wrist, and that knocked my books to the floor. When I tried to pick up my books, she would not let go of my arm. I tried to pull my arm free, but she held it too tight. She told me to apologize to her. At first I did not know what I did to her. But then I realized she must have been one of the anonymous girls I hit on the real end for months. But I did not have it in me to apologize. So, she said we would settle this at 3pm, which is after school. I did not think she really meant anything. Girls do not take on boys in a fight. And I was much bigger than her. By 3pm, I had forgotten all about it. It all happened so damn fast. I felt hands around my neck. I felt a foot in the back of my knee. I was on my back looking up, with this expression of confusion on my face. Then she was sitting on my chest, and pinning my arms to the ground under her folded legs. Then she started slapping my face, and I could not do a damn thing to stop her. I never felt more helpless in my life.
Yes I went through the I hate girls stage, from age 6 to about 12 or 13, I guess. I'm sure part of it was the feelings and urges I had to wear their clothes, and the fact that I was so ashamed over it. There was probably some jealousy over their clothes, too.
Another reason was a cousin I had. Diane was my second cousin and was four months younger than me. She was pretty, but a tomboy and never wore dresses such. When we were 8, I was taller and heavier than she, but she was already better than me at sports, and actually beat me arm wrestling. That made me even more unsure of myself, especially with my desire to wear dresses. By the time we were 10 she was two inches taller than I and weighed about the same. She could outrun me, hit a baseball father and even ride our other cousin's motorcycle better than me. When I got fed up and jumped on her, she beat me up! She busted my lip and blacked my eye. My father was very embarrassed about that, and I'm pretty sure he was ashamed of me.
My torment went on for a couple more years until Diane
started liking boys. For a few years, she ruined everything for me
though. She'd go out for baseball, soccer or anything else I tried out
for just to beat me out. She also embarrassed me at the bus stop, on the
school bus and at school. She'd brag about beating me up, give me
wedgies and pants me in front of other kids. If she had known of my
crossdressing secret she would have totally humiliated me. Luckily we
eventually went to different schools and drifted apart over the years. I
started to like girls around the age of 13 and even stopped dressing for
a short while, but I always slip back into it. I've only told one girl
that I dated about my dressing. She was fine with it and even helped me
until we broke up; then she told her friends that I was a freak. So I've
been keeping it to myself since then.
Never! I grew up with my mother, an aunt, and her three daughters. My father worked construction in both South America and Greenland at the time. My cousins were all older that me (in high school), and I was so envious of them and their clothes! The oldest cousin was a cheerleader, and of course got more attention because of that.
At night, I would sleep in the living room, on the couch, but for my afternoon nap, I slept in my cousin's bedroom, with their clothes scattered about, hanging from the window, hanging in the closet, and laid out across the various chairs!
God, how I wanted to be able to dress in those clothes! I did finally talk my oldest cousin into dressing me one time, but of course everything was too large, and my Mother just laughed at me when she came home that night.
From then on, I only dressed in secret, until I finally came out at the age of 35, and I have been dressing as a woman, 24/7, ever since! True story.
|Ken from L.A. 6/12/04
I hate girls ? Not really. I was raised being around an older sister who
wore pretty dresses, skirts ant petticoats. My mom was very nurturing
and over all she had was a positive influence on my life. I admired
girls and women for the way they dressed, acted and treated me. Because
of that, I always felt that women and girls should be treated like
queens. I was into the usual boy stuff, but not much into sports, as I
was rather small. I had my small share of boy friends but for the most
part I was picked on by other boys and my father was very strict and
As a child I loved girls and everything about them, pigtails, ponytails, and of course all the beautiful clothes they got to wear. At an early age perhaps 4 or 5 I first borrowed my older sisters panties, a very pretty lace slip, and a dress which buttoned up the back. At that moment I knew this would be a part of my life forever and it has been. I dressed in something of hers at every opportunity and got caught quite often. Mother made me wear panties as a punishment she thought that would embarrass me or maybe it was Dr. Spock's advise. It soon became obvious that wearing my sisters clothes was not an embarrassment and she asked me one day if I was a sissy boy or wanted to be one. Well if sissies get to wear these beautiful clothes yes. After that my sisters old clothes were left out for me and take them I did. Somehow cross dressing makes me feel like a complete person.
I can remember my sisters getting ready for school,
wearing their dresses and their skirts and looking so pretty, and I just
sat there wondering, 'Why can't I go to school like that?' and my mom
saying, 'You're a boy. Boys don't wear skirts and hose.'
|Bobbie Jo 2/14/00
With my mother making statements like "I got it right
the second time," referring to my kid sister (by 18 months), and with Dad
wanting me to be "manly" but obviously preferring Janet with all her
talents over me on every occasion, I had a sort of love-hate relation with
girls while I was growing up. At one point, I was overtly "I hate Girls",
but as this was right before the hormones kicked in and I wanted to date
(without success), and prove to my dad that I was "manly," I don't know if
this really counts.
As a child I never would have thought about hating
girls, since I spent so much time with my girlfriends and playing dress up
and house. It was boys who were yucky at first, but then as my
girlfriends got older and we started to talk about boys and how to dress
to make ourselves attractive to them, I started to find them attractive as
|Rhonda Risque 1/23/00
I never hated girls. I really liked them and enjoyed being with them. Of course, I was jealous or envious of them since I grew up in the 1950's. I still have many memories of the girls wearing various petticoats. I lived in a very windy area and it wasn't unusual for the girls to have their dresses blow up, showing off their petticoats. One day, the elastic band on one girl's petticoat broke and it fell to her ankles. In 1960-61, several girls in my home room class used to stuff as many petticoats under their dresses as possible. They also wore girdles or garter belts and stockings, as well as stiletto high heels. I longed to dress that way and finally was able to wear a petticoat for the first time about 1962, when my mother bought one
Not at all. When I was three years old, my best friend was my girl friend from next door. We played all the time. I loved her; she had beautiful brown eyes. We were going to marry each other. I dreamed of wearing her pretty dresses, and was devastated when she and her family moved away. I had to make my life with the boys who were rough and I did not like very much. Yes, I was referred to as a “SHE” quite a few times. I got over the threshold and got also tough, as a matter of survival.
|Angela Teal 12/25/98
No, not at all. If you have seen the movie "Ma Vie en Rose" you might understand my position. I was a girl in a (cliché) boy's body. I would spend whole weekends dressed as a girl with my friend Mary L---- who 'knew.' On the other hand, I didn't like boys.
Pettis to me were and are the quintessence of femininity, having all the mystique and eroticism of being a girl . . . merely walking while wearing a full petti... *sigh*... Well ....*grin* It's beautiful.
"Merry Christmas" to all Bunnies!
No, as far as I can remember, I never had this stage. At an early age, my mother used the Dr. Spock idea of punishment of putting a dress on your boy. No, I did not like that. However, I had a girlfriend then, (at age 6 I think it was), and they were playing 'no boys allowed' games, and I wanted to be there too, and so I found this punishment dress, put it on with some lipstick I found, and went and joined them. To say the least, my mother never used that form of punishment again. However, I had to tell my girlfriend and her friends that "Grandma" couldn't come back. That was my explanation. Back to the subject though, I don't remember ever hating girls. Usually, it was the girls I knew who treated me the best. The boys, on the other hand, well, most of them didn't. I guess that was good though as it kept any potential gay thoughts far away.
|Liesel Siobhan 1/3/98
I always thought girls were wonderful. I can remember being very in love with a girl in my kindergarden class. She liked me too and we even held hands sometimes like when we sat in a circle to sing. I was crushed when her family moved away. In the third grade, I was in love with my best friend's sister. Her class was in a different room than mine, but we met in the hall before school and started to wish each other a good morning and we would make a point of finding each other at lunch. We both took some teasing, but we didn't care. There are two other things that were really nice about this relationship. Her brother, my best friend, had the same first name as me and he thought it was just fine for his sister and I to be in love.
A family near by had three girls; the oldest was my age and we were very good friends. I knew her from before I started school. We played, daydreamed, and talked together a lot. Even though she moved away during middle school, we stayed in touch until after college.
I played with the boys too; the usual baseball, fishing, and so on. The guys I knew teased me a bunch for spending time with girls, but I didn't let that stop me. It seemed to me that girls certainly had better lives than boys in some ways and I was torn between wanting to have and enjoy some of the things girls did, but also not wanting to give up being a boy. I felt bad about the fact that there didn't seem to be any way that I could be like boys in some ways and like girls in others. I was never branded a sissy or anything like that but I wasn't one of the usual macho males either.
We were much more innocent about sex and gender than children now and I had no sisters. I believed for a long time that being a boy or a girl was a matter of how parents chose to raise their child. It seemed quite reasonable that boys or girls could change places if they wanted to and people would let them. I found it particularly touching when I read the story titled "Xmastory" at the GirlTalk site. The part where the little boy prayed that he could be a girl; I can remember times when I prayed that same prayer. Times when the boys had been particularly mean to me and the girls had been good to me. It wasn't that I really wanted to be a girl; it just seemed better than the way I was since boys weren't allowed to be like girls at all.
So, what was it that I found attractive in a girl's
life? To start with, girls could hug, giggle, and cry. Girls also got to
dress in very pretty things; boys weren't allowed to be pretty. Girls
could be kind and gentle; boys were very limited in expressing there
feelings. On the other hand, I enjoyed being strong. I could hit'em long
in baseball. I liked to hunt, fish, camp, and I was always building
something. I was good at science and always had to know how things worked.
All these were clearly boy territory when I was little. I'm glad
Victor honey, you have missed out in so much beauty and joy.
Never did I hate girls! I grew up in a family of all females and envied the beautiful clothes they got to wear. Sometimes I think mothers gave their daughters special preferential treatment. Most of the kids on my block in the 1950's were sweet young girls, and I actually preferred playing with them than the guys. I was made the center of their attention and it was they who got me into my first pair of panties and white cotton socks. We all giggled and clowned around on hot afternoons trying to get me into a party dress. The day I gave in to my inner femininity and slipped into Susies pink nylon an lace party dress, was truly magical and I have not been without my own pretty party dress since. I still like girls very much and can now appreciate the beauty and softness they possess. Unfortunately todays clothing styles supress the pretty feminine side of them and they miss out on soooo... much inner warmth and glow. I am appalled at the sweat suit look you see in the supermarket on an attractive woman. It cries out, "I don't care about myself anymore!" On the other hand, a beautifully dressed female commands my full interest and attention, melting me in my tracks, and I wish I could command that kind of power. It is this exquisite joy I experience when I climb into pretty things made of silk, satin and nylon. I reel with an inner joy and beauty that is an extremely sensuous experience.
I never went through a "I hate girls" stage ...though I can remember being secretly envious of girls....because they were able to wear all the things that I so desperately wanted to wear, like dresses and nailpolish. All things considered, I doubt that this has anything to do with the question. I was jealous.... as any girl would be who was not allowed to express herself.
I never went through a phase where I hated girls. But I did have a phase in which I was scared to death of them. Interestingly, this would have been the 1957-1960 era (my age 12-15) in which petticoats had their greatest glory. I would see a girl I knew walking toward me on the same side of the street and I would jaywalk if necessary to the other side of the street to avoid having to speak to her. I am not sure why. But I do know that this was the period that I was increasingly interested in wearing girls clothes.....and petticoats were a major interest.
I was facinated by the sight of petticoat hems showing beneath the skirts of the girls in my classrooms. On one occassion, a girl who sat to my left had left her zipper undone on her skirt and when she turned I could catch a flash of nylon through the open zipper. I was overwhelmed with a flush of feminity!
Later, I caught glimpses of her bra through her sleeveless dress. It was so pretty. Why couldn't I wear one? Perhaps it was these things that made me afraid of girls. I knew I wanted to be one. Anyway, I feared they could see that in my eyes...especially the way I looked at their clothes. Eventually I suppressed these fears. But they still remain an influence.
Do they know that when I stare I am more interested in BEING them than getting them?
Ed: A thought that has crossed most of our minds at one time or another, no?
I did go through that stage, like every little boy probably. But above all I would hate SKIRTS and all that female stuff. As for petticoats, I didn't even dare think about them...
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