One tuxedo with matching trousers, one man’s dress-shirt and bowtie (proper kind, none of your hook-at-the-back rubbish); shoes and socks, one pair ...oxer shorts. Two dresses (one in ostentatious fitted chiffon, the other less showy, but still your dress-to-impress posh-frock); one pair low-heeled shoes, one high; assorted feminine under-garments–lacy brassieres and panties, stockings and suspenders, garter belt, in pale pink and brash purple. All in all, quite the lingerie catalogue, don't you. Iwas a boy. No girl.Afterwards I'd see Bernd and Matthias, and other friends of mine. I likedbeing together with them. It wouldn't work, if I were wearing a skirt.So far, so good. I dressed. I'd already worn my new lingerie too often;that meant back to what I'd always worn. I didn't like it any more. Itwasn't beautiful, it wasn't soft, it was - nothing like what I wanted.At least the other pullover which Mom had just bought me was a blessing.I went to see Mom."Hi, Mom." Good morning, Pr..." She. More

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