home became increasingly clear to me, I resolved that for my wife's sake this would have to come to an end. Not just the "other life", but dressing as well. How could I expect her to try with me making almost no effort at all? So, in a final purge, I got rid of everything, once and for all and I've always regretted it. Not just the wigs and women's glasses. . . I could get those again. No, I lost things in that grand resolve that I've never been able to replace, things like my camel walking suit and a beautiful flowered green dress which I wore almost everywhere. When they were gone, they were gone for good.

Had it all given me back my wife, no price would have been too dear. As it was, it was too late, and in view of my actions, I couldn't blame her a bit. Still, I actually quit for a year, completely, and it didn't seem to mean a thing. Whenever we quarreled (our philosophies were radically different by now. - on lots of things), nearly every tension in our home would boil down to the declaration that she wanted a husband (a pretty normal desire, and one I wholeheartedly approved of) and I, as a TV, couldn't fill the bill. Even though I knew she couldn't help the way she felt, this really hurt, because I wanted to fill the bill, but she wouldn't let me. Frustrating it surely was and after a year of it I gave up and went back to dressing.

And this time I really went back. Not only did I build up my wardrobe from scratch again, but in so doing I built it up carefully, vowing to myself never to destroy anything again. That was getting too costly. Should I decide to break it off, I would simply hide everything until next time, secure in the knowledge that, come what may, sooner or later I would be back. That has been a hard lesson to learn, but learn it I did, and I have never had another purge. Moreover, I began taking my own pictures for the first time and selected a name for myself, all of which gave me an increased sense of feminine identity.

Nevertheless, in keeping with my pledge before our marriage never to let my wife see me dressed, I kept all evidences of my recent return carefully hidden away. One day, however, while I was at my office, she pulled a secret inspection and found the whole works. I knew nothing about it until we were in bed that night, at which time it all came out. As bad as it had been, though, the very worst, the last straw, had been the pictures.

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