这种人很多的，没事看看这个人的自传。
A Most Curious Tale: A chronicle of my journey across the sexual seas
Chapter the First - Small Beginnings
My journey began, naturally, with my birth. I remember little of that day, but I do know that one terrible thing happened: My dear Mother's sweet baby girl was born with a most hideous affliction, an extra appendage which jutted saucily from her nethers as if to taunt and deride all who came within range of its occasional jet-like expulsion of amber fluid. O how my poor mother must have fain swooned that fateful day! I myself get a terrible case of the vapours just imagining her horror.
My earliest memory was standing in the bathroom watching a grown man urinate while standing up. I found this to be a most fascinating act, but alas, I do not know if that man was my Father or some other family member such as an uncle or cousin; however, as first memories go, this one is rather naughty, which I thought deserved inclusion in this chronicle.
My second-earliest memory was one of those classic transsexual moments. I was, naturally, very small, perhaps three or four years old, and while my dear Mother and Sister were enjoying a poolside soak in the sun, I went into our apartment to use the rest room. Upon exiting the lavatory, I espied my older sister's awesome school clothes, the Big Girl clothing that she got to wear because she was now enrolled in kindergarten. I was alone in the apartment with my sister's best school outfit, and since I was a big kid and had been dressing myself for many months, and since my sister wasn't there to squawk about me touching "her stuff," I felt that dressing up as an Even Bigger Kid would be fun and make me feel like a Bigger Kid myself.
I quickly pulled the plaid skirt and white blouse on, and looked at myself in Charlene's vanity mirror, and at that moment I had what can only be described as an epiphany, though I would not learn that word for many years to come.
What I saw in the mirror convinced me that somehow everyone had gotten it wrong: I was not a little boy who liked playing paper dolls and Barbies with his older Sister, no; I was actually a little girl. It was so obvious. I was pretty, and for a few moments I felt a supreme happiness and an overwhelming sense of excitement and anticipation, a feeling which I did not experience again until I was 17 and snorting cocaine. Yes, dressing in my big Sister's school clothes had been as big of a mental rush as snorting a fat line of cocaine, Dear Readers.
While I was turning this way and that, and smiling at myself, I heard the front door open. Suddenly, my supreme contentment became supplanted with terror, because somewhere in the back of my mind there was certain knowledge that what I was doing was somehow taboo, that I was crossing more boundaries than merely borrowing without asking. So I did what any very young genius will do when confronted with a difficult situation: I ran and hid in the bedroom closet. Alas, to no avail, for it was my Mother, checking to see what I was up to, and she knew that I had entered the apartment a few minutes before, and was checking up on me. So naturally she looked in the closet and found me shivering in the back of the closet in my Sister's best school clothes.
She sharply told me that that was a naughty thing to do, that those were girl's clothes, and I apologized and never for one second ever considered telling her what I had discovered. I knew then and there that this had to be my best-kept secret ever, because I could sense the immense pressure that kept the sexes separated in the 1960's. Later in life, when school psychologists tested my IQ, I was discovered to be nearly four standard deviations above the norm, which is probably why I was able to sense the enormous sexual taboos lurking around "My Secret."
And though I always had "My Secret" on my mind, from then on forward, I never once attempted to do anything again to violate those taboos until I arrived at puberty, when impulses began overwhelming my defenses.
Chapter the Second – The Meaning of Pain
COMING SOON！！！！！！！！！
