we

on the proper dressing, and we've had stories of life histories, and histories of life stories. We've come to the conclusion that we're all pretty much the same in certain ways. We all wish that were prettier than we are, and most of us probably spend a lot of time hunting for new ways to get that pretty. So, like I said, we are all pretty much the same. But why are so many of us content with being pretty indoors, while there are the rest of us that have to go out to be happy.

What got me started on this subject is that in the last two years that TVia has been out I've made lots of new friends through letters. Most of them have never been outside and can't understand why it means so much to me to go out. Many of them have at some time or other come right out and asked me why I go out when I can dress at home and not worry about being caught or detected. Rut I've never been able to come up with an answer that I could put in- to words that sounded sensible. It's hard to explain the feeling when I'm out, when I pass someone on the street, when a young fellow who is looking for a girlfriend gives me the eye, or when a gentle- man holds a door open for me, or when someone in a store or cafe calls me Miss, or Ma'm. Yes, it's hard to explain, and I don't think there is a direct answer for the question. "Why must we go out?" But maybe if I told you how I got started, and when I got started, and how it grew and grew until the urge to go out is as strong as TVism itself, maybe this will provide the answer indirect- ly.

I won't go into details of my life as an FP, because that story is in a past issue. But I will say it started way back, before my "brother" even started school. As a child I never went out dressed. Even in my Teens I never ventured past the door that protected my secret. In fact, the thing I dreaded most was for anyone to see me.

After joining the service, I dressed a lot on weekends in mot- els and hotel rooms and probably could have passed if I had wanted to go out for short walks, but there was no desire to do so. I was happy with my locked door, and my world of imagination.

But then one year I was going home on vacation and I stopped over night in Reno and got a motel room. As usual while on leave, I took my time getting home and back because this meant lots of motels and lots of dressing up in them. So on this one night the spark was ignited that lite the flame in me and started the desire to go out as a woman. It was just a little flame that night be-

36.