Pretty certain it is this one....
VIOLET ELIZABETH BOTT
For as long as I can remember I have loved the look, the feel, and the effect of wearing the clothes of a little girl. Even now at 47 years of age I have a large collection of little girl dresses, frilly knickers, petticoats, ruffled white ankle socks, Mary Jane shoes, ribbons, wigs, and other pretty girlish accessories all especially made to fit me. I adore being dressed and treated like a five year old.
I do not know why or what makes me want to dress up in this fashion, I only know that I do. Perhaps it was because I was raised in a family of females. My father left us when I was six years old and Mummy had to struggle to bring up me and my two sisters. Lesley is my older sister by one year, Janet is younger by five years, and we are still a very close family, although Mummy died recently after a long illness. To attribute my love of pretty frocks and all the trimmings to the fact I was raised in a household of females cannot be right. I am sure there are lots of men who were brought up in much the same circ-umstances who do not have the same leanings as me. Adult little girls are rare, but not as rare as some might think, thank goodness, I consider that my love of being a little girl is a gift, something I was born with, and I thank God that I was. Perhaps it could be proven that there is such a thing as a "little girl" gene. If there is then I am positive that I have several in my body.
I would like to share with you this almost true story of events in my childhood that I still clearly remember today. I was ten years old watching Mummy combing Janet's hair. Janet had long, straight, brown hair, and Mummy would spend ages with her on the floor sitting between her knees, combing and brushing before putting the gleaming locks into charming ringlets. I would pretend to be reading my comic or book, but Mummy knew I was watching. "If you grow your hair longer David, then Mummy will put it into ringlets for you too" Mummy once teased. I blushed scarlet as Janet and Lesley both burst into uncontrollable giggles. "No thank you, ringlets are for little girls" I blustered, completely embarrassed by Mummy's words, but secretly wishing that she would indeed put my hair into girlish ringlets. I decided to grow my hair, it was very fashionable at that time, and within a year it was quite long.
When alone in the house, I would sneak into Janet's bedroom, and squeeze myself into those of Janet's clothes that might fit me without ripping them. I would put my hair into bunches and tie them with ribbons, then I would pose in front of the mirror, wishing that I was a little girl instead of a boy. I would also dream about being caught dressed up like this although I dread to think what I would have done. Fortunately it never happened.
From the age of eleven I attended a boys' Secondary Modern School. There was a girls' school attached but separated by a high wall with a small connecting gate. The only time we mixed with the girls was when going home or when the girls were led across our small playground to a new block of buildings for lessons.
I was a fifteen year old Fourth Former when one of my dreams came true. My desire to dress as a little girl had not diminished, in fact it seemed to have grown stronger. My hair, which had only been trimmed at the ends since I decided to grow it, was now shoulder length. Unlike the other two boys in my class who had similar length hair, Mummy washed and brushed mine daily making it luxuriantly thick for a boy. I used an elastic band to keep it tied back in a fashionable pony tail. Our drama teacher, Mr. Stevens, announced that he intended to put on a "major production" as a school play. Mr. Stevens always thought he was directing the Royal Shakespeare Company rather than a class of twenty five bored and uninterested school boys. When he announced the subject of the play my ears pricked up. "We will produce one of the 'Just William' stories" he said. Now, I had read most of the Just William books, for in their pages was my favourite fictional character, a precocious little girl called Violet Elizabeth Bott. Violet Elizabeth Bott was a lisping, mincing creature who screamed and screamed if she did not get her own way and who always wore the frilliest prettiest little girl frocks. Her fictional mother thought that keeping her daughter in such clothes would keep her out of trouble, which they singularly failed to do!.
The class gave a collective moan at the subject of Mr. Stevens play except me. They too had either read or seen the 'Just William' stories on the television. "Not 'Just William' sir, we will have to wear short trousers" one boy called out "can't we do something else?" My hand was up like a shot. "Please sir, can we do 'Just William and the Gang Go Hunting'" I suggested. "Good idea David" Mr. Stevens smiled, glad that at least one boy was enthusiastic about his project. The story I had suggested was my favourite 'Just William' tale as Violet Elizabeth Bott featured on almost every page. Mr. Williams later handed out copies of the book, which he signed out of the school library. "Your homework is to read the story" said Mr. Stevens as the bell went for home time. "You can choose which character you want to play, every one will get a part" he shouted as we noisily left the class room "I will write the stage play" he added talking to himself. That night Mummy noticed the smug look on my face. "What are you looking so happy about Darling?" she asked "Nothing Mummy" I responded with an air of hurt innocence.
I did not need to read the book as I had read and re-read the story, I almost knew it word for word. I knew the character I wanted to be in the play, the question was dare I volunteer to be Violet Elizabeth Bott? Dare I act out the part of a precocious little girl in front of the whole school? I knew I would become a laughing stock but it was my big chance, I determined to do it no matter what the consequences. I could hardly wait for the drama lesson. Mr. Stevens glowed with pride holding up his play. "I hope you have all read the book and decided which part you want to play?" he loudly announced. "Now who would like the part of William?" Three boys put their hands up for what they thought was the star part. Mr. Stevens chose Michael Chriton. He then asked for volunteers to play the members of William's gang and these were rapidly chosen. My heart was thumping heavily and my throat nervously dry. Next came the part of William's father, then William's older brother. I was beginning to feel physically sick.
'Well, we will have to ask one the girls to play the next character, Violet Elizabeth Bott" he announced looking at his casting list. I was horrified. Automatically my hand shot up. "Yes David?" he asked. "Please sir" I croaked hardly able to speak "May I take that part" The whole classroom erupted into laughter. "Are you sure, David" he queried noticing my crimson face. "Yes sir, honestly sir, please let me have that part" I begged. "It's yours David" he laughed along with the rest of the boys who were chanting "Violet Violet" by this time. When all the parts had been given out and the class had settled down we were given our scripts. Mine was agreeably long as Violet would be on stage almost as much as William. I read the top of the first page "Character... Violet Elizabeth Bott... a precocious, simpering, seven year old little girl who talks with a lisp" Mr. Stevens had got it absolutely right. All my lines called for me to lisp like a little girl. I was in heaven.