Meanwhile I had some pals at a tavern or two I could visit and if not exactly drown my sorrows, at least hold them under until they stopped squirming.... gradually came to realize my friend wasn't coming back. I could grieve or I could rage but I couldn't change it. The hell of it was I still didn't know what I'd done wrong. Sure, "It's not you it's me" but that usually means "It's you". And of course I saw her every day. I considered having "Rule #7" tattooed in reverse on my forehead. Also,. I was going to start ‘dressing’ again, enjoying my private world again and loving the feel of feminine clothing be it of woven cloth or nicely formed bespoke rubber wear - in fairness the rubber was by far the preferable. My main question at first was whether I could shift my middle-aged weight? Could I lose my extra chin? Would I be able to once more get the hang of makeup and heels? No doubt; my thinning hair would not look good any longer, I’d have to look into wigs and all that laborious. More

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