I'll never forget my first meeting at Alpha Chapter. I had spoken to Virginia a number of times on the phone prior to the meeting and even suggested the possibility of visiting the meeting as Rhonda's brother. However in one conversation Virginia indicated that the primary purpose of the meeting was to have an opportunity to dress up with others. All of this, however, is getting ahead of my story. I will have to go back through many years of history.

Perhaps I have two things that are not in common with my other "sisters". First, I was born in Scotland and secondly, I have a twin sister. Others may have been born outside the United States; we do have our "sisters" throughout the world many of whom I met this past sum- mer in Sweden, Denmark and France, but not many of our "girls" can say they have a twin sister. My twin sister, to me, is the greatest.

I have been trying to muster up strength and courage for the past three or four years at least since my introduction to TRANSVESTIA and acceptance of myself to tell my sister I am a transvestite. Whether I will be able to do this in person (I have made three special trips to her mid-west town these past three years but haven't had the nerve to tell her) or whether I will tell her via a cassette tape recording or telephone I'm not certain. I do know the day will come. I feel, knowing the nature of my sister, I will have to send along Virginia's book THE TRANS- VESTITE AND HIS WIFE in order for her to have a better under- standing.

My first recollection that there was some kind of difference between the sexes (boys and girls) was while I was still a young lad of approxi- mately five years of age in Scotland. I recall very clearly one evening I tried to take off the panties of a little girl playmate who lived across the street from me. I remember she screamed in protest and I ran home a very scared boy. Whether anything was said to my mother regarding this incident or not, I don't know. This was my first awareness that there must be some difference between boys and girls.

The next thing I remember with respect to TVism was when we lived in a mid-western city of the U.S. I recall seeing panties hanging on the wash line to dry - usually on Monday's and I was possessed with a desire to wear them. I finally stole a pair off the line which belonged to the girl next door. I was, perhaps, seven or eight years old at the time.

We lived in a flat, the basement of which was common to both families with just a corrugated metal partition down the middle to