a thing for dresses

Gledwood requested I write about the beginnings of my cross dressing.
As a child, I remember my granny's coat. It had a sheared beaver collar... really soft. I used to reach up and touch the collar and pet it every day before school.
This grew into habitually touching, feeling & petting ladies garments.
She had very beautiful dresses back then, her silks and velvets.Soft cloths. Growing up, she gave my sister a beautiful bottle green velvet robe with crystal buttons which I was a little envious of. Of course, granny didn't think of giving it to me.
At the beach, I used to grab green seaweed from the water and put it on my legs. It reminded me of ladies hose and seeing it semi-transparent against my legs gave me a shiver of happy excitement. I didn't think it was strange, I thought it was wonderful!
More exciting than this was my Ma's lingerie. I loved the transparency of the cloth. I loved holding it against my wrist and seeing that almost nude look. My mother realized I was spending too much time in her closet and finally scolded me for it.
I understood then, that there was something wrong in my wanting to feel and fantasize about ladies clothes. Yeah, it was a bad day.
I continued spending time in Ma's closet, everytime I was alone in the house. It was something I could not resist doing, my own private time, my major indulgence.
When I was about 16, I began trying Ma's things on. It was a sensual pleasure for me, with some sexual notes.
Sooner or later, everyone gets caught in the act of something or other. I never expected it, as I was quite careful and cautious. My sister caught me in the bathroom, as I was in the mirror completely captivated by my reflection in a lovely silk dress with a transparent upper bodice and sleeves. I was exposed! My sister held her hand to her mouth, her expression was terror & shock. She ran out, I followed.
She really wanted to tell my parents cause we'd been quarreling a lot during that time. I was morbidly afraid of her relaying this experience to my parents, particularly my dad.With the dress safely back in the closet, I promised her Anything not to go blabbing to them. She questioned me brutally, I answered honestly. She showed a lot of disappointment, like I wasn't her brother anymore, like a freak had taken over me and she cried.
I think I repaid her trust, loyalty and help. Wearing dresses wasn't lethal, but her heroin addiction was. I found her many a time seemingly critically over-dosed, got her in the car & walked her around & around in commuter parking lots till responsive. Over the years, she let me try on & even borrow her clothes all the while keeping it a secret. She didn't understand me, but she did accept me.
It wasn't until I was living independently that I could fulfill my desire of wearing & having dresses in my closet. And much later still, when I'd wear them in public with legal concerns. I don't mind sneering, but I don't want to get beaten up over it.I find pleasure & excitement in dresses and some sexual arousal (this part turns women off but I don't require dressing for arousal or sexual functioning)
If I could undo my fixation I readily would, but I cannot. I find myself feeling unhappy and deprived if I don't indulge myself. I'm not a woman inside a man's body.I'm a man who lusts in lady's dresses.