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Just A Phase
I was thirteen years old when I first tried on my sister’s bra. I put her bra in my hamper and forgot about it being in there. When my mother was doing the laundry, she found it and said, “What is this doing in your hamper?” Before I could answer, she said, “Were you wearing this?” Before I could answer, she said, “You were, weren't you?” I said yes, and she continued to load the washer. Then she said, “Follow me.” So, I did. Then she said, “Take your shirt off,” as she took out this tape measure and started measuring me and writing things down. About a week later, Mom put my clean clothes in my room with three brand new bras in the middle of the pile with a note that said, “Here, wear these. They will fit you better.” The next day, I put my bra on and got ready for school. My mother hugged me, stepped back, and said, “You are wearing your bra.” I said, “Yes,” and she said, “Have a safe day,” and off I went. The next week, Mom did the same thing except this time, new panties were in my clean laundry pile. When I went to college, I took my bra and panties with me. I am now married, thirty-three years old, and have two kids. I have not worn either in ten years, but I feel that for the ten years that I did wear them, it has made me a better man. My mom was kind of indifferent about it, never really seemed to encourage or ridicule it. In hindsight, I think she thought it was a phase and that I would figure it out on my own.
-Ivan, 33
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