Pam and I went back to what had become our room and Pam wrote letters. I studied my flash cards and read for about an hour, then pulled out my journal...to write a bit. I’d been thinking about the baby and wanted to get my thoughts on paper.“You keep a diary?” Pam asked.“A journal; it’s the same thing, I guess.”“Cool. I kept one when I was younger, but stopped a few years ago.”“I started about two years ago and with all the stuff that’s happened to me, it’s been a tremendous help in making sense. As i looked down I could see the sheen of my thigh-highs incontrast to the coarseness of my khaki shorts, especially now that mylegs were shown off by the height of the heels. Mother's bra was clearlyevident at the shoulders by the straps showing through and, I am sure,the back closure strap could be seen through the whiteness of my man'sdress shirt. My painted fingernails clutched the shiny purse and i couldfeel the creaminess of my lipstick on my otherwise unmadeup face. Icarried most of the. More

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