With all that's going through my head, I keep having the urge to purge. But I just got a pair of Wolford merino tights, and I refuse to discard such a fine garment without wearing them a couple of times. Especially with the cold weather this winter.

I am an old woman named after my mother

My old man is another child that's grown old

If dreams were lightning thunder was desire

This old house would have burnt down a long time ago

I’m not sure if turning 60 this year qualifies me as old, but I took a western adaptation of my mother’s, and grandmother’s eastern European first name. My last name is truncated form of my maternal grandmother’s surname.

After a childhood, which many of us gurls can identify with, I started dressing shortly after I got my first apartment when I was 30. After seeing some gurls from the Renaissance Education Association (But Mona Lisa must have had the highway blues. You can tell by the way she smiles) on the Phil Donahue show, and contacted someone at Renaissance, and then it all began. I gave myself a moniker, Cathy Dalton (CD) named after several GGs I envied in Jr. High, and the name of a woman’s dormitory in college. I attended my first meeting of the South Jersey Chapter dressed in drab. I left early, practically in tears because I wasn’t dressed. I went on to attend maybe two more meetings of that chapter and one in King of Prussia, which was big! As I started to get into it, my male persona started getting busy with friends and family, until I nearly got caught, I was drunk and stoned and two of my neighbors helped me home to put me to bed, where my lingerie and pantyhose were spread out. For years I thought they found out, but if they did they would have made some noise then and there, or made some snide comment later on, which they never did. So I purged, and went on with my social life and helping my parents on their small farm.

Fast forward to today.

I live in the house my parents bought after selling their farm. After my mother was diagnosed with cancer, my older sister refused to help care for her, or our autistic sister, so I moved in with them. It’s been about 2 ½ years since my mother has been gone and the urge is back. It’s just my autistic (Asperger’s) sister and me living in this big house. My armpits are hairless as are my legs. I have undergarments, and more are on the way, as are some nice skirts from J Jill.

My sister did a double take (or so I thought) when she saw me in a Lands End flannel shirt, which maybe has a feminine checkered pattern. I wear leggings around the house, they look like the athletic pants I wear, but I’m a little shy about the tunics I bought from J Jill or Long Tall Sally. I’m just hoping my sister catches me, so I no longer have to hide and can start with the nail polish, high heels and skirts. If I can send my sister away to stay with our older sister in central PA, maybe I can get a photo shoot or attend the Keystone Conference or something like that, but for now, it’s just sneaking around my younger disabled sister. If I ever do have a photo-shoot, I will post the pics here.