Transvestia

To be accepted as a Dr. Jeckyl and Mrs. Hidde is my goal in life. Everyone needs some kind of goal in order to make life worth living so if there is anyone out there in TV land that can give me some formula to success in this I would appreciate it.

Betty Ann (49-H-3) FPE

AYATATATATATATA

Dear Virginia,

Several times in her column, your wonderful co-editor, Susanna, has voiced very strongly her opinion about TV's wearing pants. This certainly is her privilege and to me an indication of the strength of her feminine traits, which make her want to eliminate everything ever so slightly male from her TV-existence. But times change, and so do habits and customs, and, above all, fashions. During the last decades pants have become part of feminine nature just as much as lace, skirts and ruffles, and whatever frilly things a TV may think of. If I enjoy looking at a pretty girl in capris or any other kind of well fitting pants, why should my TV-self not enjoy wearing them too? Of course, everything at the right time and in the right style. Gina wouldn't dare wear Bermudas or Jamaicas or other kinds of shorts; and even capris may not be quite proper for anyone who isn't able to fill them well in the right places (with or without Phantom Phannies), but I have to admit that I do like my capri pants and, at times, enjoy immensely wearing them.

A few years ago, Gina's first venture out in the open happened while she was wearing her capri outfit. With my nice new wig I had convinced myself, and even Lisa (my wife) agreed, that nobody would recognize me or take me for anything else but a fair elderly lady. So, one day, we drove into our beautiful mountains with both of us dressed in our nice and sporty capri outfits. It was a wonderful morning in the middle of the week, and we, therefore, had all the beautiful places more or less for ourselves, stopping here and there for a short walk through the woods and picnic grounds. So far so good until, all of a sudden, we found ourselves in the middle of a wild road construction job, made to order for two elderly ladies like us to get hopelessly stuck. I could feel how Lisa tightened with tension and fear of what might happen to us, if we had to get out of the car and Gina would be found out by the rough roadmen. This was it. Nothing would help but Gina's brother's skill acquired in his years of military service. Quickly

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