The Bra
By Sally Watkinson
Fastening
I think that the difficulty in fastening the bra was one of its attractions in my early cross dressing days. For the same reason I then enjoyed struggling into dresses with back zips.
One element may have had to do with enjoying the process of dressing in girls' clothes. There were so many experiences to be savoured. If it took a while to struggle into a garment, that prolonged the process, gave me longer to savour it. Now - it seems - I enjoy being dressed rather than enjoy the process of dressing. I still take pleasure in wearing a bra - but very little in putting it on.
There may also be a link between difference and difficulty. If it was difficult to put clothes on, it was at least partially because they were different from my male garments. There would have been no point in taking the risk of wearing my sister's things if they were no different from mine.
The reasons I no longer feel that way are probably complex. For one thing, difference is second cousin to novelty. Once something is familar it is no longer different - and wearing women's clothes has certainly become familiar.
More - over the years I have become increasingly comfortable with my cross dressing. The clothes help me to feel the way I am. They are an extension of an inner, feminine, me. The familiarity of the bra, not it's difference, is something I now enjoy - an expression of the me with whom I've struggled to come to terms, and whom I now treasure.
Finally, perhaps, there were considerations around adventure and danger. Exploring my sister's clothes from the inside - and making the first steps to explore my feminine self - was an adventure. Nor was it an adventure without danger. I cross dressed when alone in the house - but I was not in control of my family's movements. People could return unexpectedly (and, on at least one occasion, did so). I didn't know exactly how they would react to discovering me in my sister's clothes, but preferred not to find out.
There is a sense that an adventure is not an adventure unless there are difficulties and dangers on the way. The difficulties increase the dangers. If something was difficult to put on, it would also be - to some extent - difficult to take off. The scene is easy to picture. The sound of a key in the lock. Me struggling with a zip at my back, and then with the bra fastenings. The sweetness of that danger of discovery!
Now, I share a house with a fellow transvestite - and all of that teenage danger is far in the past. In recent years, however, I have once more known the sweetness of danger - by stepping out publicly in woman's clothes. Before I reached this stage in development, there was another sense of danger connected with the bra.
This surfaced when I ventured out in feminine undies beneath my male clothes. It must be a step which many transvestites take. There didn't seem much danger in wearing women's knickers. They were unlikely to come to light unless I had an accident, in which case being exposed as a transvestite would not be my most pressing problem.
On the other hand, I was a good deal less confident that the bra could not be seen through my shirt than that the knickers could not be seen through my jeans. This piled on a whole lot of fresh dangerous glamour to wearing my bras. After all, women's bra straps are often visible through the fabric of their blouses - especially from the back. I sometimes wonder whether women are unaware of this, or do it deliberately.
Either way, the bra is the most frequently displayed item of women's underwear. I find that very attractive. On many occasions, dressing at home, I have craned my neck to see in the mirror whether I could glimpse my bra straps through the back of my blouse. There was always a pleasure in being able to trace them, and a disappointment in failing to do so.
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