she be, except a bad one?

I think she has rather nice legs, although she doesn't take very good care of them, and she takes pride in her figure, although I know she laces herself to a point of self-destruction. When I first knew her she painted her face like a demimondaine, but she's grown more constructive of recent months. I think it was the salutary influence of meeting two real ladies, yourself and Gail, from New York.

But I don't know what to do with her, Virginia, really I don't. It's enough to make a man lose faith in himself. She's much happier gazing into a mirror at her own made-up face than she is looking at my sturdy masculine one. I must admit, I love to look at her face too, but that makes it rather one-sided affair. Maybe we're just not destined for each other. Just as well. I'm in love with my wife.

Dear Virginia:

Affectionately

Linda's Lover

You have asked for my story so, for what it may be, here it is. You have my permission to use it, or any part of it, as you see fit if you use only my fem- name, Marie.

I am a male, 38 years old, 5'2" tall in my stock- ing feet, and weigh 106 pounds. I am also a femme- personator.

I am the only male child born to my parents and have two sisters. One was two years older than my- self and she died when she was 17 years old of celebral hemorrage. The other sister is three years younger than I.

My childhood was quite normal and I enjoyed all of the usual games and sports that all young boys do, such as cowboy and indians, tree climbing, hut-build- ing, swimming in. the old swimming hole, camping out,

55.