RANSVESTIA

tions. They revealed many behavioral characteristics about myself. Some I was cognizant of, but others were unknown and their revelation provided a source of relief and inner tranquility.

The greatest solace was assurance of not being a homosexual or a member of the "gay ranks," and the satisfaction of knowing that I'm not transsexual material. I owe this new found peace of mind to Virginia and many of you readers who unselfishly shared your knowledge, prob- lems and philosophies with others like me through the medium of TVia. In return, I feel there should be some reciprocity of the favor. The pur- pose of this article is to share my TV experiences with you and the new discoverers of TVia in hope that this meager contribution will bring the relief I received. This is the first time I have ever tried to speak about this inner sanctum of my life. I will try to be concise and complete.

The etiology of my behavior may be as complex as yours. The TV mold was cast in early life and I fit into it perhaps for several different reasons. My parents were married at an early age and gave birth to my older brother about the time the stock market crashed. For nearly seven struggling years my parents postponed having their girl. Mother had prepared for the long awaited event by knitting pink booties, sewing pink dresses and buying pink crib blankets. (Of course I don't remember all of these things but I was told about them several times.) The girl turned out to be me. Naturally, mother wasn't going to throw away the fruits of her preparations just because they were pink and meant for girls. So, from the earliest moments of life I wore the dainty goodies besides the boy's clothes mother received afterwards. My parents loved and raised me as a boy - rough, tough and full of endless mischievous

energy.

The yearning for a girl did not stop even after I outgrew the infant clothes. Mother seized the opportunities of Halloween and Cub Scout skits to dress up her “little girl" as she grew older. As a den mother, she developed a skit and choreography for her cub scouts. About eight of us were dressed in ballet skirts topped by stuffed pink bras provided by our mothers, and wigs from department store manikins. Under the skirts were swimming trunks and Keds. We danced to the tune of "Mickey" and walked off with honors of having the best skit.

During my eighth grade year in school, mother bought me a brigh. red and yellow cowboy shirt for school. I thought it was great but also odd that it had no pockets. She later told me it was a blouse and I stopped wearing it shortly afterward.

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