Transvestia

time in a very small apartment. Still, I could manage since I, as the only male member in the family again, had my own bedroom.

At times I was extravagent. I bought grease paint and hired a wig. I could hardly afford these luxuries but as I had no girl friend at the time I could spare a little cash for it.

Often I went to places where fancydress costumes were obtainable for hire. Under the pretence of preparing to go to a fancydress ball, I tried on several costumes, all female of course. I always finished up by telling them that I would be back next day to make up my mind which one to take. I don't think I could have continued this mal-practice for too long since there were no more than half a dozen places with fancydress cos- tumes for hire in our town and I was soon known by each one of them as an unprofitable customer.

I remember envying a friend of mine who was invited to a private fancydress party. He went dressed as a girl. Since he was young and had a natural, beautiful complexion, he fooled the father of the young people for whom the party was arranged. The gentleman who was a well known personality in our town, occupying a prestige position, flirted with this so-called girl and only towards the end of the part was told, to his embarrassment that he had flirted with the son of one of his col- leagues. A victory, no doubt. for my friend's artful impersonation, though not quite fair, perhaps. He became a successful actor and I have never found out whether he was an FP. He was happily married and had several children.

I was twenty-three years old when I met, at long last, what I thought was the "right girl." We fell in love with each other. She was a little younger than I was. I thought my dressing-up days were over. All desire to do it had left me. I was completely inexperienced. My few contacts with street prostitutes—I could hardly even afford the small fees they charged had been unsuccessful. I was convinced that my impotence was of a nervous nature. Later on I was proved to be right in this assump- tion, but I had no opportunity to find out at the time. I was too young for the girl. She suffered from a father complex and later married a man who was old enough to be her father.

I returned to my life in the FP prison. I had become more subtle and more daring. I went to theatrical hairdressers and asked them to make up my face. I always found a good excuse, but whether it was good

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