Dad Returns to a Daughter

It was a few weeks before my dad returned from a business trip to Toronto during which time I was beginning to feel more and more comfortable with my feminine persona. I would go to school dressed as a boy but during the evenings and weekends my mom allowed me to dress how I wished and there was no discussion about my attire other than when I would attend the ballet classes which mom had signed me up for. Thankfully, they were not near our home so there was no chance of me seeing any girls from my school.

I would always wear white satin panties because my mom said boy briefs would show through the leotard along with white tights and a black tank top style leotard. The first class was very embarrassing, a few of the girls giggled when they saw me dressed like them but to my amazement there was also another boy about my age in the class wearing exactly the same leotard.

It being the 1970’s I had long blond hair and the instructor immediately told me that I would either need to cut my hair or tie it back, I chose the latter.

More on ballet and square dance classes in another posting.

My mom did not tell me the exact day my dad would arrive home because I was already anxious about it, he came home late on a Friday evening after I had gone to sleep the next morning when I walked into the kitchen wearing my favorite short nightie over my night diapers I let out a scream when I saw him sitting at the kitchen table with my mother.

 

They told me to come sit with them as my mom did all the talking explaining the situation to my dad. He was not happy to say the least which my mom expected so she had arranged for the counsellor/therapist I was seeing to come to our home later that morning. She was better at explaining my situation to my dad and from what I recall his biggest concern was having a gay son. I didn’t even know what gay was at that age and hadn’t even had the sex talk with my dad parents yet.

During the two week period my dad was home we saw the therapist a few times a week and while my dad was still very disappointed with my desire to dress like a girl he was not ranting and threatening not to allow me to dress in his home. Like most European men he was quite a macho man and far from open minded or progressive thinking. We were far from close before this and now he was even more distant. Many nights I lay in bed worrying because I could hear my parents in the living room discussing me and how this was going to affect their lives. Some evenings it was discussions and other times it was more like arguing and yelling. My mom was the voice of reason and reassured my dad that everything would be fine. It struck me one night when I heard her tell my dad that she enjoyed being able to buy girl’s clothing and if I wanted to dress like a girl that was fine with her.

Out of frustration my dad commented,

“What is with the diapers? He’s not a bloody baby is he?”

Mom calmly told him what the therapist said,

“It’s his way of receiving the love and affection which he did not receive from us because we were too distraught over losing Naomi. The guilt I feel is horrible and if this helps him feel loved and makes up for us being distant while he was a toddler then so be it. Besides he needs them because he wets the bed and I’d rather wash diapers than bedding every morning.”

I distinctly remember starting to cry when I heard my mom defending me and truly loving me. It was not tears of sadness but rather tears of relief and happiness. Yes it was true I still wet many nights but it was really just mild leakage at night. The next morning I woke up completely dry but there was no way I was going to let my mom know before getting up I voluntarily soaked my diapers like never before. From that day forward I began to consciously soak my diapers every night. I would drink lots before bed and if I woke up dry I would purposely wet my diapers before.

 

My dad started travelling more shortly after this weekend and looking back I believe it had more to do with avoiding the situation at home than actually needing to work. My mom was perfectly content with the situation and I began to develop a closer and closer relationship with her.

This closeness grew and grew through my teens which I will share in future postings.