Mommy. Makeup. Pretty

When I delve back into my most distant memories, one of my first memories (I could say one of my first joys) was sitting on the bathroom counter watching my Mom put on her makeup.

I do not want to make too much of this but I do feel it is relevant to my life as it would turn out to be.

My Mom and I traveled a path rather unique for mother and (dare I say) son.  Some may fault her for the way she raised me.  However was it her choice or mine that I would come to live my life as first a girl and later as a woman.  Am I a whore today because my mother chose to raise me as a girl?  Did Mom imposie her desire to have a daughter on me or did she allow me the freedom to become the person of my choosing?

In this photos I am dressed as a little girl.  Did Mom dress me up as a girl at this age?  Yes, she did.  Did that impact my choices later in life?  I cannot see how it did not. At the same time, I did not mind her doing so.

Okay, so maybe I was too young here to argue that point, but as I grew older I liked looking like a girl. I liked wearing their clothes. And as you can see, going from boy to girl was quite easy for me.

As I may have mentioned elsewhere on this blog, my mother routinely shared with friends and guests to our home that given a choie, Dad and her would have loved to have had a daughter.  Whenever she did so, she usually spoke to their third child.  After having two sons they really wanted a daughter.  Their third son was me.  After having three sons, they had somewhat expectant of having a fourth when she got pregnant again.  So I was the one who should have been a girl.  And I am the one  that came to live my life as a girl.