brought, from a TV standpoint it has been marvelous. As a girl I now have the run of my apartment and even have my own banking and charge accounts. I keep my nails long and shapely, my eyebrows carefully plucked, and my body femininely free of hair. And, not too surprisingly, my public adventures have grown bolder, with, as far as I know, no one the wiser. And that is the greatest experience of all to be accepted as a woman, even tacitly, by others.

My most unexpected success in this field came quite by accident one morning after I had dressed and was preparing to leave our building as though I were going to work. As I reached the bottom flight of stairs (a much more private means of exit and entry than the elevator), I heard someone outside in the hall, so I waited primly by the door for them to pass on. As luck would have it, the sounds drew even closer, and in the next instant I found myself face to face with the janitor... and he knows me quite well, as a man. "Well," I thought, "this is it," and I waited for the questions. Not only were there no questions, but he tipped his hat politely, said, "Good morning, miss," and held the door open for me to pass through. Pass through! ... I nearly passed out, but composed myself as best I could, smiled a "thank you" at him, and completed my exit. One of the most frightening moments of my life, and yet, once over, easily one of the most satisfying. Nothing else can quite match the pleasure dressing can bring.

Indeed, I have had a lot of desires... things I enjoy immensely... but I can say in all truth none of them is quite like this one. What kind of spell, what kind of power does it wield? I wonder about that sometimes when I recall that dressing is the only thing for which I have ever lied or stolen - my only really dark sins. Whatever that power is, it seems positively universal. As scattered and as alone as most TVs are when they begin, no one generally has to tell us what to do, we just do it almost as if by intuition. My own experiences with wigs, beard plucking, and going out are cases in point. In each case I had never even heard of anyone doing those things before... they seemed to come naturally. Hence, I realized my history reads more like a composite of other accounts than like an original creation; it is none the less true for that, and to me all the more amazing. Alone? Unique? Why, we're so much alike it scares me.