I was about four years old. By then, I often showered by myself. Sometimes my parents would still help me, especially with washing my hair, but it was common for me to shower alone.

  

My mom had a habit (I don't know why, maybe because they were delicate and would have been ruined if washed in the washing machine with the rest of the clothes) of washing her underwear while she showered and leaving them hanging on the window hook to dry.

 

Every time I saw them, I felt things inside that I couldn't explain until one day I knew what I had to do: very carefully, I took the underwear and put them on. I felt good, like when you do the right thing. I felt like they were part of me, my second skin. I looked at them and felt good.

That was the first time I wore a woman's garment... and I never stopped after that. After a while of wearing my mom's panties, often still damp (from water), I started looking in her closet for other clothes, bras, shoes, dresses, etc.

 

The rest is history...