RANSVESTIA

I just smiled like a Cheshire cat with, as Peggy put it, the smuggest '... thought you'd never ask" look. The progression to complete softness, tinkle, ripply drape and spread was so logical felt so pre- ordained. And so just plain ol' nice! Felt sweet, dear, comfy, creamy and many more of the new words creeping into my parlance.

Not that I became a girl to everybody. I went to school "as a boy," lived at home "as a boy" - in Peggy's helpful word "masqueraded" lots just like a boy. Though ... we three girls knew better! I even went as a boy to the newly-begun boys' cooking and sewing classes — and slipped in, grease-touched face and oversize overalls, to the girls' auto mechanics' class. With the growing acceptance of young people doing opposite-sex things, long glossy hair and colorful ponchos on every inter-sex back, even earrings for fellows (just one though!), life was lovelier for experience-hungry kids like me. I just had to know both sides of the boy-girl story the worst way; and in the best ways.

While I successfully hid my feminine self at home, I was very grateful to have a home-away-from-home next door at Peggy's. Her in- dulgent aunt bought more things for her than most two middle-class girls dream of, took an admittedly selfish pleasure in keeping her flouncily dressed according to her tastes; Peggy preferred more in- tellectual, more severe dresses, was relieved to shunt off a closetfull of auntie-chosen nonsense to my ad lib use. And full use of her room when she was at her real home. Her auntie had the most eager visitor and babysitter in me!

In spite of Peggy's private entrance, Aunt Margaret discovered Peggy and her friend Susan tanning their legs on Peggy's wooden fire- escape private-entrance one scorching morning both of us in the coolest most summery dresses ever. After a few minutes of talk she tumbled to where she'd seen Susan before. And bless her, she was humane!

"Being a girl must be terribly important to you, Suze!" Her eyes expertly noted the art of my casual hair-styling, the smoothness of my skin from several years of nightly creaming, my ease and comfort in the unruly-skirted dress I wore. "So be it - tho' I shan't tell a soul. And Peggy, bring Susan down to socialize with me - I'm often lonely. Don't imprison her in your room!"

Such a fragrant relief to walk casually, freely, downstairs, in their big backyard! I did feel at times like Anne Frank of Diary fame. Not

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