I knew Mme. Norman had not read me and as the luncheon progressed, Leslie mentioned that I was looking for a way to stay in New York for the winter.
Trina Norman offered me a modeling job on the spot. I demurred, telling her I would let her know.
Here was a daring and dramatic answer to my dilemma; perhaps too daring, too dramatic. Leslie encouraged >me to take it. I hesitated. I wasn’t sure that I was ready to take up a transgendered lifestyle.
The Lockmans encouraged me to take it if I felt comfortable with it. That was my sole hang-up. Could I get comfortable with the sudden reality of entering a life entirely as a female? The idea both thrilled and appalled me. I didn’t discuss it with my family at all. I had decided to make my own decision. However unusual it might be, it would be mine.
Then one evening about three weeks later, when I was not dressed, Dr. Lockman took me into his study, poured each of us a double shot of his rare Scotch single malt whiskey and talked to me like a Dutch Uncle.
“You are a transvestite, my boy. You always have been and you always will be. Believe me, I know! In my long years of psychiatric practice, I have never met a crossdresser that wanted to be, or who could be ‘cured’. It is a condition that befalls certain of us and never goes away. I also know it runs in families."
With this last remark, he peeled off his brocade smoking jacket, loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a lace-trimmed camisole.
I was astounded!