HS Part 3

I was still terrified of girls and, having had my wardrobe involuntarily purged by my mother, sought to recreate it in search of the feelings of "softness" girls clothing produced. My favorites were a yellow poplin skort (a very short crystal-pleated skirt with an attached loose bloomer-style panty of the same material), a yellow/white striped seersucker tie-at-the-shoulder romper with elastic waist and legs, a blue gym suit (most reading this are probably too young to remember these one-piece snap-front goodies with cuffed sleeves, an elasticized waist and an elasticized "modesty" cuff around the legs, creating a bloomer-effect), a nautical style skirted one-piece swimsuit, a red and white plaid parochial school bibbed knife-pleated skirt and blouse, and a beautiful smocked-front white cotton dress with puffed sleeves and a very full petticoat. Wearing any of these was sheer joy. Wearing these clothes, the world became a warmer, safer, calmer, softer and more comfortable and even more colorful place to be. Logic and cares vanished and in their place was a palpable sensation of peace and serenity. It is still hard to describe although at that time, it was simply magical. This was many years before I even learned to accessorize or coordinate the outfits (which I later inflicted upon my wife).

Unfortunately, many good things do not last... Less than two years after I had first been dumped on his doorstep, my father discovered my secret basement cache of clothes while I was at school. And I thought that I had hidden them so carefully! Awaiting me at home after school was a policeman who had convinced my father that I was obviously some form of pervert. A summary discussion of what I had been doing with the clothes resulted in my being shipped back to my mother where, upon arriving, I had to promise to her never to engage in such "weird" acts again, re-enrolling in my old high school as if nothing had happened.

It might be helpful to the reader to note that I got yet another beating (he believed in using a belt) from my father before I was shipped back. Today, this would be described as child abuse, but back then it was called "the proper exercise of parental rights." My memory of the details of these beatings, and the beatings of a lesser magnitude which occurred not infrequently, is fuzzy, perhaps out of self-defense. However, I do recall not being able to sit down for several days and having to stay away from school until the black eyes and lumps had gone down. With the clothes gone (what a loss--my second purging), and having made a promise not to do it again, I endeavored to put this all behind me. Sure enough, I did keep my word for almost 35 years... I acted normally, even went steady with a girl in my senior year, losing my virginity to her immediately after joining the Army.


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His Story

(Part 3)

High School