Ouch, the things you learn from your kids! I suppose every parent goes through this sort of thing, but being able to talk with your now adult children reveals some interesting things you were not aware of when they were growing up. Specifically, I gained some insights into the age old question "Do we tell the kids?" I have a message for all you closeted crossdressers with children: you don't have to tell them, they already know.

Hey wow, me on the television!

It all started when I got a call from someone with the Sally Opra Donahue Show. Their schedule said it was time to put a crossdresser on exhibit and they wondered if I was interested. Someone down there had been reading my columns, it seems. I patiently explained that I was known as the Bearded Lady for good reason, I had a full, dark, bushy beard and was unlikely to be seen as a woman. The only response was "Hey - kinky. That's great! The audience will love it."

Space... The final frontier.
These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise…

If you are a Trekkie I don't have to continue any farther, you can hear Captain Kirk's voice reciting those famous lines until, without a shred of political correctness, he proclaims:

To go where no MAN has gone before!

It's hard to cope with having your world view turned upside down. As crossdressers we all know society disapproves of us. We hide in closets, shop in catalogs or venture timidly to the women's section if suitably inspired. For those of us who are significantly over the norm in size it is a challenge to find a nice dress. That's the conventional wisdom, isn't it?

Help, I'm overdosed on TV newsletters, magazines books and handouts. Life has been busy of late, and just about everything I found in the PO box has gotten tossed into a pile at the back of the closet, waiting time to read it. So the holiday weekend came and I had time to dress up, lay back and read. I read it all at first, then found myself skipping around a bit, then jumping over whole articles on the title alone.

If a man in woman's clothing has a odd ring to it then a 6'2", 250# wolf in sheep's clothing is surely fair game for some hearty guffaws. If there is one thing serious about the situation it is that I have enjoyed bras, panties and garters for the last 20 years. I still do, but I only enjoy this apparel in the privacy of a motel room or other secluded setting. When I dress it is for the feel of the clothing and the intrinsic pleasure it brings, and this pleasure is largely separate from the rest of my life.

The issue of security came up recently in a letter to one of my sisters. Security must be of overriding concern for many transvestites, and many of us would be in a poor position if they were found out. To me it seems that the security issue can be broken into two parts, public and personal.

I'm confused, so this will be a very confused column. It's sort of like one of those dreams where several seemingly unrelated threads of thought combine in really odd ways and you wake up thinking "I'm not sure I want to know anyone who could dream up something like that!"

Something funny happened the first time my family spent a week at the now infamous home of Jim Bakker, Heritage Village USA. Since I am not a Christian and had to work anyway, I spent the week as a bachelor. Well, not exactly a bachelor, more a bachelorette. I hate that word, it is as awkward as some of the supposed "sexual-bias-free" creations that grace the media these days, and I have a whole new understanding of those libbers who object to those sexist terms.

Have you ever had a dream come true? Silly question, that - if you have been on the planet for long enough to be able to learn to read something good must have happened to you along that line. What would be a dream come true for a crossdresser? OK, OK, enough suggestions from the audience, I get the idea. Do you dream of being able to dress full time when not working, live alone, never need to consider anyone else's feelings, do what you darn well please when you want to do it? Unlimited freedom, self expression, fulfillment of your every desire!

Welcome, my sisters, into the world of the New Age. Listen to the formless music in the background. Hear the muted chanting of a choir of True Believers. Abandon your previous self to the teachings of Mother Earth. Feel the innate power of the mysterious Female Life Force flow into your sadly male body. Read the articles in crossdressing magazines filled with terms like "oneness", "karma", "pansexuality" and even "reincarnation." Recently I even learned that women have superior hearing to enable them to be better mothers.

(Since I no longer have access to the article that got my dander up, I have let the author be anonymous in my response. You can probably figure out just what she said from the context.)

Pardon me, but my dander is up. I know that is a difficult, and potentially embarrassing to raise a dander while wearing a skirt, but by golly it's hoisted and flying in the hot air of opinion.

I saw another one today. I was driving along a country road and over there on the left, by the well kept farmhouse was another of those rather weird examples of modern art known as the "moonie". Have you ever seen a moonie? No, I am not talking about some earnest and well scrubbed youth in the airport lounge selling flowers for the Korean Messiah, but rather the mushroom shaped and gaily painted depiction of someone's legs and nether regions that are sprouting on lawns all over country like, well like mushrooms.

It has been brought to my attention more than once that I have a big mouth. I'm sure that you, my readers, have remarked on my talent for fearlessly offering opinion and advice from behind the safety of the printed page. Unlike talking, where my pontifications can be challenged by a loud "Oh yeah, that's what you say!", if someone out there wants to comment they have to take the time to compose their thoughts, put them on paper, find a stamp and mail the thing.

The year 1989 marks the 100th anniversary of the Brassiere, as it was first called, an item of apparel dear to the hearts of all transvestites. I find it hard to conceive of a time without the bra, so integral has it become to feminine fashion in our culture. It and the jockstrap are the only garments that have an anatomical function limited to one sex; all other clothing takes its gender from the culture. A male wearing a bra can only be doing so for the pleasure of it, as we all well know.

A reminder: I wrote these columns 20 or more years ago.

Oh dear, it's finally catching up with me. Age, that is. Don't hand me any of that crap about life begins at 40, I believed it when I was 40. I just turned 46 and I'm straining to believe it now.