Christianity and The Cure for Cross Dressing

I don't remember if I heard this from a college professor or my therapist many years ago, but the question was asked How do you know if you need psychological counseling? The answer is When something is causing you a problem (anxiety, fear, low self-esteem, etc.).

Cross dressing use to be a problem for me. One of the most important arguments (to me, anyway) for why you shouldn't dress as the opposite sex came from the Bible. Deuteronomy 22:5, as it is frequently quoted, seems to say cross dressing is very bad. After reading the entire Bible chapter and talking to some bonafide ministers (men of the cloth, as we use to say), I came to the conclusion that cross dressing is not a sin. One of the earliest entries I wrote on this blog contained this good news.

That led me to realize that cross dressing is not a problem for me, but it continues to be a problem for people around me. I'm not talking about fellow cross dressers. I'm talking about those who insist I am committing a great sin against God when I put on my prettiest dress. I'm talking about men who wouldn't be caught dead with a strand of pink thread in their clothing or women who may wear slacks, but they are in a "feminine cut".

That lead me to the next big revelation in my life -- I have to get all these people into therapy. All these folks have a completely illogical fear and hatred of my pink angora sweater. Those poor, poor folks going through life like this! I say this with all truthful sincerity, I have sympathy on them. Why? Because they are in the wrong, being in the wrong is the same as being in sin, and sin robs us of the joy and peace that Christ wants us to have in life.

Here's an example. Has this ever happened to you. You're watching television with family or friends. Everyone seems to be enjoying the program. Someone blurts out at one point Oh! That's old so and so! Wasn't he gay? What difference does it make to the show this person is on? The actor was not portraying a homosexual. Such a topic didn't even figure into the storyline. What difference does it make if the actor is gay or not. He or she is on the show, earning a paycheck and entertaining the audience. The conversation usually continues with the loudmouth saying something derogatory and claiming to never watch the actor. There's nothing wrong in enjoying a television show, but letting illogical fear and hatred ruin that enjoyment does seem wrong.

It would be impossible to get all these people into a therapist office, and I don't know of many therapists that make house calls. That leaves little ol' me as the one with the greatest chance of having a positive influence on these folks. I do a lot of studying and praying on this matter, and try to always be careful. In all situations I try to be an "upright" person, as the Good Book might say. For those who only know me as a guy, I do my best to not give anyone an excuse to call me a lying scumbag who likes to get drunk and would stab his own mother in the back as quickly as he would stab his worst enemy. For those who know me as Kelli, I hope they have a positive impression about me (not a slut).

While doing my best to be pleasant and good company, it gives me a chance to talk about anything and everything with a Christian perspective. How do I feel about the environment? I think I have a Christian perspective on that. How will the Red Wings do this season? There is a Christian way to respond to that question. Hey, you're a Christian... what do you think about cross dressing? I think I've already said what my answer would be.

A famous minister once commented that many an average Christian, being a good example to others, has led more souls to the Lord than many an average minister in the pulpit. It all starts by changing hearts and minds one person at a time.

Oh... almost forgot. About the title of this post. Christianity in and of itself is not necessarily a cure for cross dressing. Christianity is the cure for sin, a cure we all need.

Kelli

On A Scale of Feminine to Feminine

Many, many moons ago, a very wise man (my therapist) suggested I keep a personal journal. I found the idea a bit silly and asked if he meant the sort of journal where I would write things like "Dear Diary, today the little red-haired girl smiled at me from across the room"? He said that was exactly the sort of journal he was referring to, that it would help me work through my thoughts and feelings, and would prove very beneficial. Although it was many, many years ago (practically the dark ages), I remember it like it was almost yesterday. I wanted to be cured of my transvestism (used more like a blanket term back in those days), blood letting and leeches did no good, and if my neighbors ever discovered my horrible secret, they would chase me out of town with torches and pitchforks.

So I started writing a journal and have continued doing so to this very day. I have found it therapeutic, extremely helpful, entertaining, and enlightening. From time to time, I review entries in this journal. For example, in December I will often glance at entries dated December from years past. Sometimes I make strange discoveries, like finding I feel completely different today than I did about some event ten years ago. Sometimes I come across really important items that I had lost track of or forgotten. It's even helped with personal relationships with family and friends over the years as my life sometimes plays like a soap opera.

I'll write about important things, work, family and friends, church, mundane things like where I live or visit on a daily basis. My journal also contains records of my actual dreams, my "crossdreaming", crossdressing, etc. It's been fun, educational, and very helpful to me and I always encourage others to try it.

So I was recently reviewing an old journal entry from about a year ago when I also came across an entry in Jack Molay's awesome blog about masculinity and femininity. My ex-girlfriend always accused me, Kelli, of being hyper-feminine and very girly-girly. I was shocked when she told me because although I like all things feminine, I had always tried to be just the "girl next-door" type. I've known crossdressers who were into little girl-type clothes, extremely frilly and lacy-type clothes, square-dance clothes with lots of petticoats, etc. I just wanted to look pretty in jeans and a shirt, and wanted to do so with as little effort and work as possible (latter part of that statement is still very much a work in progress). It took me a long time -- probably because I was born male -- to realize that there is a very broad area of play on my scale of feminine to feminine.

I think if and when I attain a level of satisfaction in presenting myself as Kelli, no one will notice. I want to look just like any other woman you see in the mall, at the grocery store, working in an office, etc. In my current attempts to reach this level, it is fairly easy to see that I am actually a guy although I have passed on several ocassions. Still, I dress and do my best to act like a normal woman. That is the area on the feminine to feminine scale that I try to cover.

My ex-girlfriend was a wonderful person, sweet, funny, and pretty. I found her to be all the woman a guy could ever want. I would consider her to be a normal woman, fitting perfectly centered in the feminine to feminine scale. However, she was at least a couple of inches taller than me, several pounds heavier than me, and to her surprise, stronger than me. Had we gotten married, she would have carried me over the threshold. I never thought of myself as looking weak or a "sissy", but looking back at the two of us standing side by side, she was definitely the masculine one in the relationship.

I always felt bad about that because I realized I was the one that was throwing the whole feminine to feminine scale off balance. While I denied acting hyper-feminine, I have to confess to acting feminine. My girlfriend by herself was feminine. My girlfriend next to me was masculine (or less feminine than normal). Me by myself was fairly masculine. Me by my girlfriend was less than masculine (or more feminine, which I could take as a compliment).

It's all somewhat illogical and confusing. It was also not fair to my ex because as I said, she was a wonderful, beautiful woman.

Masculinity and femininity are obviously sliding scales. That point was finally driven home to me in a dream one night. In the dream, I had to travel to a foreign country to meet a king. Before meeting the king, I met with people from his court who advised me on protocol. My basic manners were good enough, but my mode of dress was all wrong. My Sunday suit and tie just wouldn't do, so one of the staff gave me a royal gown suitable for my presentation to the king. I was pushed behind a dressing screen and told to put it on. When I started to put it on, I noticed what it looked like and started to complain. It looked like a white, one-piece nylon dress with a skirt that came to about the knees.

The staff told me there was no mistake and to hurry. I said there was a mistake as the dress had a skirt. The head servant said in that country it was their version of the kilt, and not to worry as that was not the entire suit of clothes. I put on the garment, matching tights, clunky shoes that had very high heels for male shoes, and left the dressing screen.

The staff were unanimous in their approval and proceeded to finish dressing me. I was given a white, powdered wig and a makeup artist came and lightened my facial skin with powder and makeup. A wide, black belt cinched me in at the waist, jeweled adornments were pinned to my chest, and a black bolero jacket finished things off. I asked to see a mirror just as another person who was about to be presented to the king entered the room. He was huge, well over six feet tall, with a bodybuilder physique that I thought was going to tear through the royal clothes he was wearing. His outfit seemed to be identical to mine, but the staff did not have a mirror at hand and I was unable to see myself.

We were both presented to the king, and afterwards escorted to a waiting chamber next to the throne room in case the king had further need of us. I and this huge bodybuilder guy sat in a couple of chairs with a dainty little tea table between us and quietly made small talk. A few other folks were in the room and I began to notice them and how they were similarly dressed. I noticed a young man and woman sitting across the room from us and started to smile at them when I realized something horrible -- the young woman and man across the room were actually our reflections in a large mirror. This guy was so big and beefy and I was so... uh... me... uh... not big and beefy, that from a distance we looked like a man and woman.

I awoke from the dream and wrote it down in my journal as it was definitely one of the stranger dreams I have ever experienced. Still, I think I learned something important from it: If I'm ever going to completely be Kelli, it would really help if I lived someplace that was predominantly populated by big beefy bodybuilding guys. I think future girlfriends and/or wife might appreciate that too.

Kelli Y

Glass Closets

I've mentioned before that I find dreams very interesting. I seem to have a fairly active dream life (in technicolor, no less) and have often found them very helpful. Depending on the subject matter, I can observe a problem in waking life, go to sleep, and dream a solution. I've had dreams that were purely entertaining, and I have had dreams that seemed to deal with personal obstacles and problems. Some dreams I was actually able to interpret into meaningful insights on my life, and some dreams still remain a mystery to me.

Several years ago, I found myself facing the same question from three different sources. At the time, I had a girlfriend (now an ex-), became involved in a local cross dressing group, and was seeing a therapist. I became involved in the cross dressing group about the same time I began seriously dating my girlfriend. When I felt I had no choice, I came out to my girlfriend about Kelli and later began therapy sessions about my cross dressing.

I need to add here that I have always been, and still am, in the closet about my TGism. I was originally silent on the subject because of fear, but as I've aged and been around the block a few times, I'm not really interested in the whole world knowing about Kelli. I seem to have no problems with Kelli and other TG friends, and no problems with Kelli and therapists. Kelli and girlfriends/family seem to be another matter.

That leaves my male side (referred to as "Kelly" here) for girlfriends (even when they know Kelli) and family. I was confident that folks I didn't want to introduce to Kelli didn't know anything about her. That confidence was shattered by my TG friends, therapist, and ex-girlfriend. About the same time, the same conversation came up with all three about whether or not they knew anything about Kelli. For example, my ex-girlfriend knew me as "Kelly", but after I introduced her to Kelli she told me that she knew something was up -- that something was different about me. I knew my therapist for several years as a friend before I began seeing him for Kelli. He told me he knew I was "different" and wasn't really surprised to meet Kelli.

That led me to wonder what I had done to tip them off. True I'm not an overly testosteroned, beer-gutted, skirt-chasing, can't hold a conversation without mentioning a favorite sports team, type of guy, but then I am definitely not the "metrosexual" type either. I have a tough time deciding between going fishing and having my nails done.

I worried quite a bit. Although my ex-girlfriend knew, I hadn't told my family about Kelli. My ex-girlfriend was having enough problems about her, and I knew my family would completely freak. I made a mental note to try to act more manly around these folks, but really didn't know what actions, male or female, were giving me away.

Then I had this crazy dream.... In the dream, I had gone to visit my parents. I found myself in my old room, which looked completely normal, but I was now a woman. I had a feminine hairdo, a pretty face, and a figure that I would be willing to kill for if there was ever a chance I could actually get it!!! It's okay... I'm calm... breathe deeply.... Anyway, I was dressed for bed (wearing a babydoll nightie, of all things!) and in bed, reading a book. The door to my closet was open, and it was full of dresses, blouses, and cute shoes. My old desk was now covered in make-up and hair care items. There was a knock on the door and Mom entered my room. She sat on the edge of my bed and said, "Kelly [addressed me as a male], I need to ask you an important and personal question. Are you a cross dresser?" I found myself gasping and sitting upright as I awoke from the dream.

That silly dream made a big impression on me regarding what people think of me. I can't help what other people think of me. I could do my best to act macho for those who don't know Kelli, but then they wouldn't know Kelly either. All they would know was some person trying to imitate someone he/she wasn't. I'm lazy, so I'll keep it simple -- I'll let people love or hate me for who I am. Kelli is a big part of me, and you will see a bit of her in Kelly. Kelly is a big part of me, and you will see a bit of him in Kelli. I'm doing better on combining these two aspects of my life, and I'm feeling much better by doing that.

And on the subject of who knows and who doesn't know about Kelli, at the moment, everyone that I want to know about Kelli knows. For those who think they know, it's up to them whether they want to approach me on the subject or not. Trying to read minds gives me nothing but a headache.

The Same Although Different

In reading the past few entries, I feel I've covered enough ground concerning why I think this blog will be a bit different from most, and why I feel a bit different even within the TG community. I'm sure I'll be writing on this subject again, but I also wanted to say something about how I seem to be the same as most everyone in the TG community.

I noticed that, gender wise, I was not like other children early in my youth. I remember I wanted to play house with the other girls in pre-school. In elementary school I hated sports. I was something of "my own man" throughout public school, just being myself and coping with whatever consequences that brought on. People who didn't like me considered me a loner or the "creepy quiet guy". My friends, the people I hung out with, considered me one of them, and didn't notice anything unusual about me (and thus negating the loner and "creepy quiet guy" labels).

I kept pretty quiet about my feelings. I remember finding quiet time alone with a box of old knitting and fashion magazines. I would stare at the ads for "breast enhancement creams", figure enhancing female undergarments, the latest fashions for spring, and amazing sex secrets to attract any man. I remember noticing my body was changing as I was physically maturing, and I wondered why I couldn't mature into a beautiful young woman. That is what I wanted more than anything else at the time.

When I was about ten years old, I saw a story on the news that shocked me -- a man on the local police force was undergoing a sex change operation and would be returning to work as a woman. I thought to myself "That could be me!"

Like many young TGs, the moment I moved away into a place of my own, I began working on my feminine side. Back in the days before the internet, the most common place to start was the local "adult bookstore" (more appropriately called the "local porn dealer"). I found a few transgender-themed porn magazines I could tolerate (I'm not a big porn fan), but within those magazines I actually found ads for legitimate businesses and organizations that let me know transgenderism was not something to be placed under the classification or "perversion" or "adult porn industry".

I began buying copies of the magazine from I.F.G.E. (I forgot what it was called back then), CrossTalk, and others. Thanks to the contacts section, I was able to find a cross dressing group about 90 miles from where I was living. I carefully contacted them and my progress continued.

There were setbacks along the way. A couple of times when I moved, I completely purged myself of anything Kelli. When I look back at all the clothes, books, and magazines I destroyed, I consider it a great tragedy, especially now that I know how silly it was to purge myself of those things. Transgenderism does not go away simply because you deny it.

The internet has been heaven-sent in my opinion, for people like us. If it had been around back when I was undergoing counseling, I often wonder how much further I could have gone in those sessions (the sessions went very well, I'm glad I went, and I recommend counseling to those who need it).

Long story short, I'm now much happier. There's more peace between my male and female sides, and since I came to the conclusion that neither one of those sides is going away, this is the best possible outcome for all (myself and those around me).

Kelli