secure circumstances.

Probably the best reason for not allowing my father to know of my "unusual” desire was the fact that he was from the "old school" and just would not understand such things. But, unfortunately for me, he DID discover my interest in pretty girl's shoes later on and under some rather adverse circumstan- ces -- which I shall go into later.

Towards the end of my years in elementary school, the newspapers featured the story of Christine Jorgensen. At that time I had not heard of the term "transvestite" or "transsexual." There was just never any information available, either on radio or television, or even in books or magazines, concerning either of these phenomena.

In addition to not knowing just "what" I was, it really didn't make much difference to me whether I was the only male around that liked articles of women's clothing or that there might have been thousands like myself. It just never crossed my mind I just kept enjoying wearing my pretty shoes whenever possible.

At times, and rather infrequently, I would try on a slip or bra and possibly some dress or skirt and blouse combination. And I never got involved with cosmetics until some years later when I came out of the closet -- completely!

Upon graduation from high school I was confronted with two choices -- either enlist in the army or be drafted. The former appeared to be more attractive since I could join the air force and get placed where I wanted to be. So I was soon shipped off to basic training in Texas where a private life just didn't exist for about twelve weeks. It was a shame but I had to leave all those nice pretty shoes at home. But the service kept me very busy and there wasn't much opportunity to think about any crossdressing.

But once that I was assigned to a more permanent station, I resumed the collecting of pretty shoes. While off-duty, I could wear a pair of nice high heels while driving around the country- side. It was in this area that I remained until my discharge some six years later.

While permanently stationed and before being discharged, I met my wonderful wife to whom I have been married for 21 years. It was shortly after we were married that I informed her that I liked to wear high heeled shoes. But, surprisingly, she was not shocked -- only stunned with amazement. She said that she had never heard of anything like that but if I enjoyed doing it, well, then, I was free to go ahead. So everything went along fine for the next few years. When I would come home from work each evening, I would slip into some nylons and pretty high

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