I was Lyudochku


Can I talk to believe that you were in my youth, and even transvestytam — scary to say! — Dreamed to become a girl?


It's really terrible truth.

Only talking about a very early youth.

I was three and a half years, when my close male gaze to the daughter of our neighbors, older than me by a few months Lyudachtsy. NOT navazhusya name my feelings first love, but the word "love" to use venture.

Although I may have been a boy beyond his years early, but what to do with the girls that you like, is not yet known. As a result of the desire to love sublimavalasya reincarnate itself in its object.

I took my mother's handkerchief, tied it its gently undulating head to the mirror and happily, as if by some kind of celebration, said: "Lyudochka" I wonder what he sees real Lyudochka now was absolutely necessary.

But did not get on — there was no dress, no short skirts, no bows. Exceptionally handkerchief. Since I turned transvestyt-minimalists.

Parents remember that this period of my life lasted the whole summer.

In the autumn I grew up, became harsh and said goodbye to the first love. It's time to choose the business of life.

Soon, I was already obsessed with the dream of becoming NOT Lyudochku and diver. I spun around courageous people went down in the Dvina depth, and represented, as I grow up and am also going to look at the bottom of the drowning, and then spread on the banks of the local newspaper "The Banner of Communism" (I already knew the letters), puts on her bottle, chew fat tail with green onion, and then start to your favorite song while diving with mysterious words: "It's time-on-the women, a couple of the women-pas …"

The next dream was related to the heroic people of other professions. I even learned to pronounce her name correctly — patolyagaanatam. They had my trusty older friend, our neighbor, Uncle Jack, the best partner for a game of zhavnerykav and shelter. A strong smell of different cologne that always flowed from his uncle Eugene, suggesting that the very place where he works, these things scented and produce. Many years later, when I'll be kind of know what kind of specialty, one of its representatives, either in jest, or tell me in all seriousness, as it is now before burial, not trusting patolyagaanatamam, relatives of the deceased are often put in the pocket of mobile phone (or , as we are taught poet Leonid Dranko-Maisyuk, "dalkazhyk") in advance, in the event that you can call or send text messages.

In what was then living, as urged radio and the first black-and-white TV, there was always a feat. I wanted to make it as a spy. Then another Soviet. But this is better to read my story, which is called "I wanted to be a spy."

I apologize that I allegedly defensively strayed far from the topic.

Late recurrence of childhood transvestyzmu me, does not seem to be noticeable.

Sorry, lie: in a camp we boys once stole girls swimsuits. Imagine, when twenty beybusav appear on the lake in the girls' beach clothes.

Far vodgullem those children's underdeveloped inclinations and dreams should probably consider my intention in the next life to be a woman. Still wondering what they feel …

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