Lynne's Story
By Lynne Blythe
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So I became indrawn. I made very little conversation with anyone because there was nothing for me to talk about with them.
As years went by I think I became known as a boy who always wanted to be clean and tidy, I never remember wanting to muck-about and get dirty as other boys seemed to do. I was probably seen as somewhat of a prig! That, of course, tended to increase my loneliness even more and I gradually became even more of a "loner".
When I was about 5, my younger sister was born and, after a year or so, it became clear that she was not quite as normal as other children. After some research and investigation she was diagnosed as having Downe's Syndrome. This made my mother very attentive to her to the exclusion of my older sister and myself. Our Father was a ship's officer and was not home very often.
During my older sister's teen age years, as she became very attractive, she acquired high heeled shoes from time to time and, as I was also growing, on a number of occasions she had me wear them about the house so as to stretch them for her. Little did she know that those occasions were delightful for me! Then came the 39-45 war years and we all lived with fear as we were in an area which was often subjected to air-raids and bombing.
We were bombed-out in 1943, when I was 12 and I, like my older sister, was farmed-out to friends with whom I lived for many months. They had three sons, two of whom were older than me and one slightly younger. The Mother was very kind to me and seemed to give me a lot of affection. That may have been because she was sorry for me living apart from my family, or it may have been that she recognised something in me that was different to her boys.
I believe that I craved affection as my Mother's affection was, understandably, directed largely towards the younger, Downe's Syndrome child. I know that my older sister felt the same as I as we have discussed this a few times during our grown-up years.
About this time, the husband of a friend of my Mother, abused me on a number of occasions. I have those memories etched into my mind. I can say, however, that that abuse affected me greatly and made me even more indrawn. Once again, I could talk to no-one about it, nor ever have, even to this late part of my life. When I read about young children being abused, I know what they suffer and my heart goes out to them!
The family of the aunt who, in earlier years had said I was too pretty to be a boy, included a girl, one year younger than I, and three boys, considerably younger. It seems laughable now to think about, but when I knew they were coming to visit I used to say a prayer that Mavis, my cousin, would ask to wear my clothes (she was somewhat of a tom-boy) so that I could ask to wear hers. Of course it never happened, it was just a fantasy...
So the years went by with my increasing confusion. I was so convinced that I was a girl that I even used to go to sleep at night with my arms wrapped tightly around my chest. This seemed to cause breasts to appear and I was always hoping that, on waking the following morning, I would have breasts like my older sister had but of course, it never happened, it was just another fantasy!
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