So off we went to talk to them about m dressing. My therapist was a lady and a good looking lady if I can remember. When we talked the only thing tha... was racing though my mind was how nice her clothes looked and I wish I could wear the clothes she had on every day. She would wear the most amusing outfits, skirts, blouses, dresses, and heels. I would think to my self what she ad under her clothes, was it silk, lace, or something different. Some days I would wear panties or even a bra at time. I felt a bit jealous of my youngersister Janice skipping easily along in her new pink trainers. What wasmore disconcerting were the looks I got. Despite my heels and clearlyvisible bra under my tee shirt, I still looked to some like a boy. Themixed looks I got unsettled me. Some were smiles as the watcherrecognised a tomboy growing up. Others were frowns of confuseddisapproval as they saw what appeared to be an effeminate boy in drag.Fortunately they refused to believe their own eyes and. More

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