I really am not in a place where I have access to all my photos, so this one will have to do for Number One. It is sort of appropriate, because I have been going on lately with some of my friends about how I was so interested in theatrics and make-up and costumery as a child. Why I never got involved further is a small mystery, however, I do have to attribute it to a combination of my having Asperger’s and to the poor job the guidance counseling function at my schools.
From my earliest remembrances, I wanted to be someone else, someone more than who I was. I would have been happy to be either Clark OR Lois as I lost myself in those early comic books. I created costumes from my sister’s leotards and my mother’s long gloves, unable to understand the sensuous feelings rippling through me as I pulled the black stretchy material over my young legs and arms. So much of me was already feminine, had been developed as feminine, and the things of womanhood were calling to me, begging me to embrace them, which I freely did whenever possible.
And so to this day, putting on a costume is a particular joy. To pretend to be bigger than life for just a while.