My wife Marian and I have been married for almost 10 years now. When we first met, she said she loved my creative side. But she doesn’t know how far my ‘creativity’ goes.
Marian works reasonably long hours and most nights she plays netball at a sports centre only one suburb away. What she doesn’t know is that, at night, I take advantage of my solitude and wear women’s clothes.
The signs were there when I was younger. I was raised solely by my mother and she was working three jobs to pay the bills and I spent a lot of time alone. Sometimes when I was bored of playing or watching TV, I used to go through her enormous wardrobe and look through all of her outfits. It felt to me as though I had access to another world, a world of beauty and glamour.
One afternoon, I came across a red evening gown that I just fell in love with. The garment told a story (in my daydream-prone adolescent mind, at least) of a world of nightclubs and bewitching songstresses living a life of unparalleled colour and vibrancy. I grew tired of just fantasising about it — I wanted to ‘be’ it.
I stood in front of the mirror that hung on the inside of one of the wardrobe doors and put the evening gown on. It felt so good and right, but also a little forbidden — which only served to heighten the excitement of it all. I struck a few poses for myself and, before long, I was strutting around the room singing in a husky, Marlene Dietrich-like voice. I felt alive and free; it was then that my mother came home — early!
I barely had time to get the dress over my head. She wasn’t sure what to think about what she saw. She yelled at me for ruining her favourite dress but in her eyes I thought I saw something else — a look of disappointment and confusion, perhaps. I was so ashamed. The years passed and I didn’t do it again, that was until after I met Marian.
Marian and I had a whirlwind romance and I had never been happier. We were so happy I rarely thought of what had happened in my childhood. Admittedly, I would pass certain women’s fashion stores and catch sight of a mannequin wearing a beautiful frock or a stunning pair of shoes and I would yearn to walk in and try those wonderful garments on. But I had convinced myself that it was just a passing fancy and that I could suppress it. I was very wrong.
It was a couple of years into our marriage and our schedules became very different due to the diversity of our careers and social circles. Marian and I have always been very much in love but not seeing each other took its toll and before long I was reaching out for ways to fill the void.
One day I came home from work to find that Marian had left a skirt draped over the lounge along with a blouse and her bra. She must have been in a hurry to change and get out the door again. I stared at the clothes for a brief moment before giving in to the inevitability of the moment and picking them up.
I put the bra on first. It felt like coming home. I quickly hunted around for something to stuff the cups with and settled on a few pairs of socks which did the trick. I then put on the rest of the outfit — I am fairly slim so it wasn’t much of a struggle to fit into my wife’s clothing — and ran to the mirror in the hallway. I nearly cried when I saw myself; I was so happy — I felt complete.
For years now, I have come to look forward to the nights I have alone, the nights when I can transform from Jeremy into Jasmine. I wear make-up and a wig I had specially made through a costumer online. I even have latex padding to fill out my bust. I have several of my own outfits now and I have to be very careful to hide them so that Marian doesn’t stumble on them. My primary fear is that my wife will find my feminine underwear and think I’m having an affair!
I love my wife and I am 100 per cent heterosexual. I just love the feeling of being Jasmine. One day I hope to gain the courage to tell my wife my secret. It is my sincere hope that the three of us can live happily together.
Picture: Getty Images. Posed by model.
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