ransvestia

- started reading everything I could on this-told my long time girlfriend - she said she understood—still no wardrobe - mar- ried my girlfriend - bought some clothes, and used my wife's - 31⁄2 years of my wife threatening to tell my secret unless I did as she said I had a very henpecked life-psychiatrist. divorce — started to build a new life and wardrobe ness, very lonely but at least happiness . .

minister -happi-

Now, at 25 years of age, I felt that I must make a choice between being a man or a woman. A lot of thought and study concerning a sex change revealed that I did not want either a complete or partial change. For the next few months I considered suicide. I was tired of being alone and of the constant fear of being exposed. I lived in an apartment complex by myself, with my secret in constant jeopardy. One example occurred when I arrived home from work one day and neglected to lock my apart- ment door. I took off my clothes, shaved my legs feminine smooth, and then went into the bedroom. I eased into a pair of black nylon panties, garter belt, and a pair of sheer dark tinted nylon hose. Putting on my black padded bra I slipped into my gold spring-o-lator slippers with the three-inch heels. I then went to the powder room to concern myself with make-up. A knock at the door sent that dreaded feeling of fear that I always lived with, tingling through my body. I kept very quiet so who- ever it was would go away. I watched helplessly as I heard my name called out by a friend and as the door handle turned and the door started to open with me standing in the hall. Oh my God!

I literally jumped into my bedroom, grabbed a couple of feminine ar- ticles laying about and got into my bed. I had the covers pulled up to my neck when my friend looked in the door. I told him I didn't feel well and I would talk to him later. He said OK, and asked to use my restroom, and I consented. I stayed in bed but started to undress. I removed my bra and slid it down near my feet. I started to unhook my hose when he came back into my bedroom. He talked for a minute and then playfully grabbed at my covers as he started to leave. The covers came down to my stomach before I could grab them. I thanked the good Lord that I had removed my bra, but it had left some rather strange marks on my chest. My friend asked what they were and I quickly said they were from a tight “T”-shirt I had worn earlier, as I again pulled the cover up around me. Finally he left, and I then locked the door.

Then there was the time that I decided to test my acceptance and ven- ture into the outside world one night. I removed all signs of body hair and

31