close calls. Like the time my parents were out of town for a few days, leaving the rest of us home alone, and I inadvertantly left a bra lying on the floor under my bed. When it was found, my older brother, who shared the room with me at that time, was accused of having had a girl in the room when nobody was home. He never denied it as vehemently as one might have expected so I've always speculated that maybe he did have a girl in there after all. Some day I'll have to ask him if he remembers the incident and was there a girl or not.

Another time, a few years after this, I reached school only to remember about halfway through my morning classes that I had left a silk nightie lying across the foot of my bed after having taken it off.

I was completely at a loss as to what to do. My mother would find it when she made up the bed and there could be no logical, sensible, ac- ceptable reason I could possibly offer for it being there. I toyed with the idea of walking out of school and try to get home before it was found and I was scared to death to do that too. At lunch time, instead of going to the cafeteria, I ran all the way home, arriving there out of breath and prepared to meet my fate. If I didn't drop dead when I faced my mother I would have to kill myself anyhow. I ran into my room with the excuse I forgot a book to find, to my great relief, that due to some other house- work, my mother hadn't gotten around to making up the beds yet. Once again I was granted a repreive. These incidents only served to put me on closer guard and everything was checked and double checked before I left the house in the morning. I have read stories of other TVs who have discussed their problems with mothers and sisters and received, in return, sympathy and understanding. Even help with their dressing and makeup. I don't believe I could have ever talked to any member of my family and received anything in return except ridicule and ostracism. I can only envy these other TVs who were so much more fortunate than I.

I was now aproaching my late teens, the second world war was in pro- gress and soon I would have to face being drafted into the armed forces. Before this came about I enlisted in the Merchant Marine, and after a short period of training, I found myself plying the Atlantic Ocean be- tween the United States and various points in Europe and the Middle East. This greatly curtailed my cross dressing but I soon hit upon the plan of purchasing a few feminine garments, while in port, wearing them for a few days, in the privacy of a hotel room, and then dropping them in a good-will collection box before returning to my ship for another trip. Shortly after the war ended I met a girl I was infatuated with, quit sailing and in short order settled down to get married. I didn't tell my

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