RANSVESTIA

a few minutes ago. Fastening earrings which I had always admired to my ears, and dropping a pearl necklace around my neck. I picked up a matching purse and gloves and was all ready to make my debut.

But this was my first set back in what has become a lifelong struggle with TVism. Where could I go? What could I do? If anyone saw me dressed like a girl I would be laughed at. So there I was, all dressed up and with no place to go. I wandered around the house, and stood at the back door I really wanted someone to see me, and I wanted to talk to someone while I was dressed. Time soon ran out and, frustrated, I re- luctantly took off the clothes I so loved and put them back where I had found them. Putting on my own rough trousers was a tremendous let- down.

From that time I carefully studied everyone's coming and going so that I would be able to be in the house alone as often as possible. When I was, I rushed so that I could spend as much time as possible dressed like I wanted to dress. Sometimes I was able to go outside and walk around the back yard. It was beautiful and the electric shocks kept com- ing every time I dressed.

About a year after I had dressed for the first time I struck a gold mine. A friend of mine asked if I would be willing to go into their house for two months during the summer to water his mother's plants.

She was just my size and she had closets and dressers full of beautiful clothes, including the first nylons to be made after the war. Never did plants get so much loving care. I would go in the morning and, leaving my own clothes on the porch, walk naked through the house until I got to her room. Then slowly, carefully, I chose panties, girdle, bra, slip and savored each moment of putting them on. The feeling was sensa- tional and I floated ecstatically through a world of my own. I took a long time with my make up and carefully created a totally feminine face. The array of dresses and shoes was large and it was always fun to try on several before finally settling on one. When I did, I would fix my hair and then, standing in front of the mirror, draw the dress slowly over my body. Shoes on my nyloned feet, I was ready to water the flow- ers. Only first I would have to take a walk out into the garden to see what was happening there. With my skirt flipping happily against the back of my legs, I checked and rechecked every inch of the gardens and enjoyed it more than any more flower-lover. For two months, two beautiful months, I did this and I was the sorriest person in town when my friend returned.

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