First time…..

Musings from WannabeGinger

For all of us, there are many a “first time” for many things in our lives. Here are a few more of my own, from when I knew that I was a little different.

Chapter 5

Over the following few months, and past my fourteenth birthday, I gradually added to my store of girly underthings. How I treasured them! I grew confident in going out whilst wearing both a bra and a pair of panties. The danger of discovery seemed to shrink as my confidence grew.

The first time, I simply went back to the M&S store and looked around in the undies department. No sign of my friendly Assistant, but the Dragon Supervisor was there! I took delight in passing her by on my way through the racks of nighties and negligees. Her raven black hair added to an almost Goth image. She must have been 90 years old! I was so scared walking by. Delighted to ba able to, but scared nevertheless.

I grew accustomed to finding times and days when the rest of the family would be busy doing other things. I adopted the ‘Nerd’ image that every 14-year-old is allowed to adopt. My older Brother — the one who had “shopped” me over the panties — was seen less and less around the home. Good riddance, I said to myself.

At school, we were given the first sex education lessons….. Can you believe that? At 14 years of age. It was all about frogs bonking and making little frogs to start off with. Wham-bam-thank-you-Mam. It explained, and I knew by then, why a hard-on was hard. It didn’t explain what to do with it. But, by then, I knew. It explained where to put it… if you wanted to make another frog. But I hadn’t been sure about that Girls’ anatomy had been a mystery. We boys joked about them having “fannies”, without knowing what a “fanny” was. For the first time, I wondered what it would be like to have a “fanny”.

It wasn’t long before — for the first time, and very much not the last — I went to the make-up counter in the local department store; John Lewis. A place where the major cosmetic houses all had beauty “therapists” waiting for customers to submit to make-overs and stuff like that. They also had a free-to-pick section, where the Maybelline lipsticks and the Max Factor lipsticks could be found. Maybelline looked more teenaged. Bigger choice of colours. Some wild colours too! That would be the range. The purchase that day was one to remember. I grabbed the first Maybelline one that I could get my hands on.

I literally ran home, knowing the house would be empty for the whole afternoon, and got those panties and my bra out! No more risking Mum’s cosmetic drawer. I had my own! Hidden away. A hard-on came on soon, with that warm feeling I so enjoyed. And the thoughts of the pretty girl in the M&S Lingerie department. I’d love to find her fanny!

The sex education moved on swiftly. We reached the stage of STDs — even then unpronounceable words were used…… all of them sounded very nasty and suggested that putting your thing in a fanny could get you into trouble. Better to play with it yourself really. We were told we were all “heterosexuals” — which was difficult to say, but here was also a part about people called “homosexuals” who were dangerous, people who wanted to play with eachother but were both boys…… Eeeee-yuk!
Playground games became full of “poofs” and “homos”….. Instead of “Catch” or “Tag” or “It”, the poor sod who was “It” became the “Poof” who could clearly infect the rest with his wish to play with eachother. Eeeee-yuk! For the first time, those games became “edgy”. What we now call “social exclusion” was common — especially if anyone showed the weakness of hating being called a “Poof” or a “Homo”, even in fun.

I knew that, if anyone … anyone at all…… knew I wore panties and a bra when I was at home, I’d be branded for ever as one of these outcasts. I resolved never to get caught, or to tell anyone about my secret. That was the first time I felt the need which I have felt many times since, to be absolutely secret in what I do with my clothing.

By now, age 14, coming up to 15, I started to add to my collection of girly things. I wondered about getting some stockings.. or pantie hose perhaps. I wondered about the feel of the nylon on my legs. What would it be like? I didn’t have much hair on my legs at all, so it would feel smooth.
Back I went to M&S, but this time to the self-select racking for pantie hose and stockings.

Decisions! Stockings needed suspenders. They were over with the bras and panties. …. Maybe another time? But what size to get? S.? M.? L.? XL.? XXL.?........ What colour? “Natural?”, “Bronze?”, Misty Grey”, “Midnight?”.

I went for “Midnight” in size “S”… spot on! No need for advice. Advice on how to put them on might have been helpful! I laddered the first pair in minutes. Never got them above my knees! That was expensive. How to do that?! Nobody to ask. Perhaps a sly watch while mum put hers on would have to do.

Not so any problems with lipstick. I got lots of practice and soon became quite good at it. I loved the “cupids bow” that models in the fashion magazines Mum had. I remember the first “make over special” that was published in “Woman” magazine. A woman with Rita Hayworth hair tumbling all down her shoulders. She had the most beautiful shape to her lips. I followed the example, time and again. Gradually, I got the outline right. I filled in the rest with that lovely creamy colour.

Her eyes were bewitching. Beautifully outlined with what I soon knew to be liquid eye-liner. Darkly loaded lashes with what “Woman” told me was the latest in mascara. I sat in my bra and panties at a mirror and worked on my lips, planning one day to work on my eyes… and my hair!

My hair was becoming much better than I could have hoped. It was still relatively short but this was the decade of hair getting longer. Nobody commented. I made a point of washing my hair almost every day. I got an evening delivery job, with a local tradesman, that added more to my disposable income. I bought my first bottle of hair conditioner.

Whilst buying that, for the first time, I took time… time to see the range of hair colours that were on sale in the drugstore/chemists. Box after box after box, with alluring smiling women’s faces looked back at me, saying “go on, give us a try!” I should think not! All the boxes said “semi-permanent”, “lasts 6-8 washes”, or “permanent”, “contains ammonia”. Don’t be stupid!” I told myself. But these women’s hair was fabulous…..

By the time I had mastered (or misstressed?) the technique of slipping my legs into pantie hose, with my panties and bra, and my lipstick, I began to feel ready for something to bring it all together. No outer clothes. I wasn’t planning to go out dressed, but … something was lacking. Obviously, I couldn’t afford shoes. But they would be wonderful… and I promised myself… one day, I would buy myself some strappy sling-backs with pointed heels like Mum wore…… What size were we both? Was Mum the same size as me now……?

The temptation rose again, like it had with her panties the very first time. No worries about disturbing the way they were stored. I could put them back undetected in the racking in her wardrobe. I knew I was a size 5 now; but had no idea of Mum’s size. But I did know she had a fabulous pair of heeled black shoes. But before I could move, I heard a Brother's footstep in the hall.

I looked for an afternoon when I could go in to Mum and Dad's bedroom and try the shoes out.

Meanwhile, my shopping at the drugstore went on. I went back to the hair colours. Was there anything that would wash-in, wash-out? I looked and looked. I hoped nobody was noticing me. And they weren’t I looked all along those boxes again. No luck. They were all unusable by someone like me.

Then, right at the end of the shelf, there were some small packs with sachets tumbling out of them. “Hint of a Tint” it said on every sachet. "Lasts 2-3 washes". well, I could ash my hair three times to get rid of it...........

Chapter 6 finds me in a much safe place, with all my elements so far in place.