but it took the presence of another TV to bring those imperfections into focus. Needless to say I was mad, terribly annoyed, with friends who'd "blow my cover".

I must be selfish in protecting my own environment an environ- ment for Susanna to live in. And what kind of living do I engage in? Take my two-weeks vacation as an example. I actually worked harder than my brother does at the office. I made beds, I vacuumed, I cooked, I set the table, I handled children, I washed dishes, I did laundry, I ironed, sewed. . . and I even went visiting newly acquired non-TV friends who do not know (and I am determined they will never know.) I did a lot of thinking and self-analysis while engaged in all those activities. I kept thinking: I enjoy doing all these things because I am a woman . . . and my name is Susanna ... men really don't enjoy doing these things... and pretty soon I was thinking of men as THEY . . . I had mentally crossed the dividing line. I was doing what I had always felt I should have been doing all my life . . . quite happy with the limitations imposed on me as a woman. And I smiled a happy smile sewing in the porch while the children rushed to tell me about the big, big frog they almost caught at the pond. No doubt some people would say that I have turned into a trans- sexual. I don't think so. Operation? Phooey! I don't want sex, I want femininity. [Amen-Ed.]

A long time ago I posed the question in one of these columns: what is nicer, more satisfying, to be accepted by non-TV's who know or to be accepted as a woman by people who don't know. My personal feelings lean now towards total passing. It is interesting to see however, that even those who do know, after days and weeks of being in your femme-company, begin to forget there ever was a "he" in the picture and find themselves reacting towards you just like they react to any woman. Even the children -and perhaps they more than the adults-accept this new reality more quickly. It was heavenly to have one of the kids come over and ask me if I could sew a tear in his pants. Total acceptance. And the wife of a distant relative who had met Susanna for the first time, took the whole thing in stride. Went shopping with me . . . and in the store suggested: "let's bake a cake for the children." I heard nothing from her but "she" and "her". Then it dawned on me: people will easily accept you and get used to being with you as a woman-if they don't see the man around. What confuses them is the repeated switching back and forth. Confusing to them—and damaging and confusing to your own self. Constant swinging to and fro from him to her, back and forth, keeps you off balance. It is not restful. You feel like a pong ball. And then I realized the why of my increas- ing longing to live as Susanna more or less permanently. I am weary of this constant changing back and forth. I want peace within my own heart.

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