thought must surely be the world's darkest crime. Moveover, just in telling someone, I had the sense of having a heavy burden lifted from me for the first time in years.

As I had fully expected the world to cave in, I thought Mother was pretty generous about the whole thing. To my relief, the family was told that the missing things had turned up after another search (which was true). But there was still the piper to pay. She warned me that something like this could easily ruin my life (I hardly needed to be reminded of that!) and insisted that I see a psychiatrist. Great, I thought, I'm going to be cured at last. Any hopes I may have had of that were quickly shattered by my first few visits; I had the distinct impression that the doctor knew even less about TVism than I did. Not only was I getting more depressed the more I saw of him, but I had the sneaking hunch that the sizable amounts of money I was forking over for treatment might be better spent elsewhere (guess where). So I told Mother that he had straightened me out and there was no need to go back, a solution which left her faith in the powers of psychiatry undiminished and my bank account likewise.

Mother had returned all her things to her closets and I had destroyed all mine. Everything, that is, but the shoes. Though my promises to reform had been in earnest, for some reason I had hung onto them. Some months later I was glad I had. This time, however, I didn't break any rules, so nothing was missed, even though I took many of the same things I had liberated in the past. It's really easy to get attached to things. In fact, I was so attached to them that I didn't even return them when I left home to enter the Army, but hid them in a trunk in the attic awaiting my return. Already I had let dressing make me a liar; now I had allowed it to make me a thief.

When I came home on leave six months later I could hardly wait to get my clothes out again. Just the sight of them has always been able to arouse in me the most indescribable feelings. I had no sooner put on my girdle and stockings when the bedroom door opened and in walked Mother to tell me something. For what must have been the first time in my life, I had forgotten to lock it!

What followed was a real nightmare. This time she was

10