Transvestia

whom I could confide. But would she understand?

Once, after our marriage, I tried to "explain Marryann" by getting dressed--as if for a joke. In a few months she found out that I was not joking. This caused us to have quite a few words--to put it mildly; with me as the villain. We survived. After a period of time, she relented and I was allowed to get dressed for a short time on Saturday nights. As I didn't have a stitch of my own, I had to "borrow" my wife's things. Being a couple of sizes larger than her, I suppose that I looked like the very devil to her, but I felt very feminine. It was better than nothing. This "safety valve" was soon sealed off. My wife found Marryann repulsive and couldn't bear the sight of 'her'. Once more the heated argu- ments began, with neither giving an inch. Around this time our first child, a daughter, was born and we moved to larger quarters. Here, I again tried to get some freedom of expression. I was allowed to be Marryann only on Saturday nights and was grate- ful even for that.

My brief "fling" was soon to end--the Korean "police action" had begun, and as a reservist, I was called to active duty--this time into Dixie, where I was to train troops for overseas duty. My wife and daughter joined me and we lived off-base. Here, away from the depressing scenes of my home town, with a home--such as it was, and a steady job, I again became Marryann in a very restricted way. I was allowed to "dress" (or is it un-dress?) for bed, wearing only a nightie after lights out. I could also wear lingerie under my uniform. I began to assemble a "wardrobe" of my own. First bra and pads, then scavenging second-hand shops for dresses and shoes, gradually acquiring a full complement of "necessaries", but all tattered and worn. Undoubt- edly I was Cinderella's poor cousin in appearance, but I was very happy just to be myself. You might say that at this time the girl to be known as Marryann really came into her own. She was quite a

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