By Dalana Lawrence
I first saw Claire in her brown suede mini skirt and black skin tight stockings. With her flowing red hair she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I thought about her all the time. Those snuggly covered but oh so transparent legs drove me crazy. Each day I would sit next to her in home room, my eyes fixed on her long silky legs always in a different mini skirt and colored stockings. Claire would fester in my dreams before I even knew of wonton desires, leaving me each morning in a mass of sticky goo. Time went by and I lost track of Claire having never revealed my feelings for her, as I was just too recreant and shy during my early pubescent years. Claire never knew of my longing, but the memory of her legs and the beauty covered in stockings would last a lifetime.
My relationships were always predicated on women wearing stockings. As I aged into my twenties I discovered an attraction for feminine men, especially those wearing pantyhose. I began to search them out in clubs, discovering the world of transvestites, also known as cross- dressers. My desire for men dressed as women began to grow and I knew, once and for all that I was bi-sexual. In the closet and ashamed, it would remain a secret until I was fifty-two years old when I finally stepped out. Living life in the closet, hiding my bi-sexuality from my entire world, I decided to attempt dressing as a woman.
Perhaps my loneliness and depression following prostate cancer led me there. I might have been looking for an escape, and in some strange, mystical and magical way I was trying to take a vacation from me.
I went to see a woman who specialized in transforming men to women. I was finally going to wear stockings. I picked out the outfit while she applied the make-up. I had never worn a stitch of women’s clothing and nothing could have been more foreign to me. But, after the clothes were fitted and the make-up applied this “angel of dreams” completed her transformative task in a blaze, changing my life forever. It was a long flowing red wig that fell just past my shoulders. Within a few hours Dalana was born. I remember feeling so strange, excited yet never so alive.
Dalana continues to grow each day as a source of inspiration, reminding me that the best days are still ahead. Many laugh at her, few are accepting, and there is a plethora of people who simply don’t understand. But, none of this matters because she is the best of me. She is bright, beautiful, and sultry, and she makes me proud. With no going back, as a transgendered woman, Dalana is now a part of Dylan, and he a part of her. We are slowly becoming one and I thank God each day for this incredible gift.