Transvestia

their hangers...

I used to think that I would never be too tired to get dressed...but that was before the World's Fair came along. Some of you must be thinking that Susanna is exaggerating after all, what about week-ends? Just a minute my dears. You've heard of our new country house which we hoped to have ready for Memorial Day? Yes? Weeeeee!!... we did not include the carpenter's snail-like motions in our calculations... Memorial Day came and went and the place was still not ready... and as I sit this minute typing these lines...the place is still not finished...close to comple- tion, yes...but not quite... maybe in another 2 weeks. Result? That every week-end has been a mad house... a place of hammering and sawing and painting... a nest of sawdust, paint smells (which I hate) and pieces of wood, nails, and furniture piled together in corners and hall- ways...and I'm sure every TV will feel with me the fact that atmosphere is an important factor...a messy, dusty, environment does not seem appropiate to bring forth the girl-within...she likes perfume and beauty..and music.. and pleasure.. So I kept her inside and I am paying for it with moodiness, frustration and disgust...

At this point I'd like to take issue with some of my friends who swear that dressing becomes less important once you have achieved total acceptance of your true self. I must confess that I cannot take long periods of frock- abstinence..I must dress to feel happy and contented. Dressing was, is and will continue to be a basic factor of my life. And that's enough of this chapter on intimate confessions.

Let's talk about clothes instead... There's a wonder- ful subject....If TV wives just knew what their husbands are forced to do to the lovely garments they purchase for their secret dressing sessions, I'm sure they would be broken-hearted and immediately accept their husbands TV inclinations with open arms. What woman could possibly conceive of a satin evening gown being squashed and crum. pled inside a suitcase like one would shove an old rag un- der the sink...or beautiful lace lingerie mercilessly push- ed into a paperbag which in turn is shoved behind the spare tire in the trunk compartment of an automobile... If she could just think of all those beautiful, and often expensive