frock my aunt was making, and such remarks as "we really must dress Reg up in Maud's clothes, he would make a wonderful girl." On the other hand I was a very masculine and athletic boy and such interests as mountaineering and rock climbing have remained with me all my life. I first went out dressed as a girl when I was 21 and the experience of Roy/Wendy in that delightful TV novel 'I Want What I Want' describes my reactions exactly. I rushed in panic to the ladies restroom to hide and then later walked in ecstacy on high heels around the Oxford St. shops.

For a number of reasons I did not dress again for several years, the war came and I moved away from home and had my freedom at last. Then, probably as a reaction against a disastrous love affair, the old desires came back in overwhelming strength. I gathered a small ward- robe, eliminated by beard, learned a womans voice, and obtained an expensive wig. I then found I could go almost anywhere, even in the company of acquaintances, without detection. For two years I spent almost all my spare time as a girl; shopping days, weekends at hotels and summer holidays. At times I had the usual tremendous emotional reactions against the hopelessness and unreality of it all; also I was in- effably lonely. As a woman I had no identity, no home, no job, no history and no background. I flickered like a shadow from place to place forming no stable friendships; an evening with one person now, another then at most a few meetings and then they were gone. Any- thing more and they were bound to find out I was nobody. Mostly I wandered around alone.

As the war ended I had vague thoughts of living permanently as a woman and even went to night school to learn typing, perhaps to be come a secretary. I suppose that had I in those days heard of sex change this was the period of my life when my compulsion would have driven me that way. Thirty is a dangerous age. Perhaps fortunately, again a fit of despair overcame me for my head told me that only as a man could I fit into the real world, no matter what my heart said. It was after this that I decided to give it up and in a few months I was married. My wife is a woman of strong moral fiber and astonishing efficiency in her own sphere; I am very fond of her. She is devoted to me and our marriage has provided the stability and anchor that has kept me on the rails. For over twenty years I scarcely ever dressed although the thoughts were always there; practical realization was replaced by repression re- lieved by periodic secret emotional storms at intervals of years and triggered by some chance event. One of these was the Roberta Cowell case in England, another the reading of the aforementioned novel - I.W.W.I.W. These penetrated deep down into my unconscious, for there

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