The miracles just seemed to keep happening for me that day as I found a slip that fit me and discovered my first pair of high heels. Once again I knew I was just like the girls in my class, as they too were learning to walk in their first heels.

Every new item I added to my body made me look and feel so feminine and pretty. I even found a black dress that wasn’t a bad fit other than being far too long. A needle and black thread made the dress six inches shorter, even though it was not a very good job of sewing. What did matter was seeing and feeling that dress on my body. Rough hem or not, that dress showed that my new body had all the right curves in all the right places, as the boys and men would say.

I found a black hat that covered my short boyish hair and added some jewelry to my ensemble. Even a pair of black dress gloves was found and became mine. So much was happening, so fast. Lastly, I very carefully added red lipstick to my lips, as I had many times before. Stepping back to see my full image in the dresser mirror, the full impact of my new being hit me.

I was still young enough that body hair and beard were no concerns at all. All the times I had dreamed of had come true. In the mirror was a beautiful young woman, and I was that woman. No body could feel like I did right then. I had to sit on the edge of the bed to calm down from all the physical and emotional sensations I was feeling. It could easily be said that I could not have really known what it was to look and feel as a woman, as I had not been born female or raised as a girl, but at that moment I was more complete and real in my mind, as a woman, than George had ever felt of himself as a boy or young man. All the years of inward needs that George could never understand or explain had, that day, all come together to create me.

I was alive, beautiful, and I felt wonderful. For about an hour more I let myself fall deeper into being "the woman of the house" as I did George’s house chores, and it was good. Time, however, ran against me, and it came time for me to let George come back. I had no choice. As I undressed and put everything away, I made mental note of where everything was, knowing I would be back for all my things again. George reappeared, but now he was not alone, and a whole new awareness came about to both of us. The battles between us were very real now.

With George back, the old feelings of fear, guilt, and shame again surfaced in him. I was, however, quite strong at the moment, and I was not about to become some denied memory. It was a week later before I could physically return, and I did return. It may have looked and acted like George was there that morning, but he wasn’t. I wanted my body and my life back. Once I was alone for the day, I retrieved all my pretty things, and very unceremoniously shoved George’s things under the bed and out of mind. It was my day. I would have at least six hours to be me, and I needed it badly.

I knew it could not be helped, but for a solid week I had felt trapped in George’s body and clothes. George had to be the one who everybody saw at home, and at school, but it was difficult to let than happen. And George was trying to deny me and bury me; because of the growing shame he felt that I had come alive. As I dressed it was I that buried George that morning.

It felt good to breathe and be alive in my things again. The rush that I had felt before, when seeing myself all dressed up, hit me once more as I saw myself in the dresser mirror, and I liked it. I knew that I looked like the stereotype housewife on television doing my house chores in a dress, heels, and pearls, but that was okay with me. I did dishes, washed laundry, and ironed clothes in my role as "woman of the house", and it was good. There was even some time for me to explore finding more clothes for myself.

That was not easy, however. Most of Ma’s outer clothes were all too big for me. Finding the clothes I had found had been more of a miracle than I had imagined. That was a great disappointment to me. I did find a pair of blue Capri pants that weren’t too big, and a blue pull over top to wear. A pair of black flats also fit. My new outfit wasn’t exactly all I had hoped for, but at least it was not his clothes.

I remember thinking how much I would have loved to be able to go through the closets and dresses of some of the girls George knew in school, and how good I might look in their things. They were so lucky, I felt, to be able to dress and be the girls they were born to be, and I envied them. The joy I felt discovering myself as a girl took on sadness because I could not know the freedom they had to be themselves. But, though I had not been born as them, I knew that I was still real within myself, and I clung to that dearly. I had to settle for what I had, and for being a part of George, so I did, and I began to live for the stolen moments that I would find life.

After Ma came home from the hospital, my times were near impossible to have, and George, back in control, tried very hard to not let me surface again. In essence, we began to make each other’s lives a constant internal battle. (continuing)

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MINNEAPOLIS - Cleveland Indians pitcher Kyle Denney won't complain about having to dress like a cheerleader again. The white go-go boots that went with the outfit might have prevented a bullet from seriously injuring his leg.

The rookie was hit in the right calf by a shot that came through the side of the Indians' bus in Kansas City late Wednesday as the team traveled to the airport after a victory over the Royals. The bullet caused only a flesh wound, probably because of the tough leather of the knee-high boot, Denney and his trainers said.

All of Cleveland's rookies were decked out in outrageous outfits on the bus, part of a hazing ritual. An Oklahoma native, Denney said his teammates told him to dress as a USC cheerleader because the Sooners are ranked second behind Southern California in The Associated Press college football poll.

"I've never been so glad to have a USC thing on," Denney said Thursday at a news conference in Minneapolis, where the Indians traveled for a weekend series against the Twins.

Kevin Hallinan, senior vice president of security for the commissioner's office, met with Kansas City police Thursday regarding the shooting, which happened as the bus traveled along a highway ramp.

Hallinan said the shooting appeared to be random, and that police had no suspects.

"It's a random act. These situations happen, unfortunately in this day and age, a little too often," he said, adding he doesn't think there was anything major league baseball could've done to prevent the incident.

Team trainers removed the bullet from Denney's leg while he was still on the bus, and he stayed overnight at a Kansas City hospital before rejoining his team.

"The way he handled the situation was pretty awesome," said outfielder Ryan Ludwick, who was sitting across the aisle from Denney and was grazed by debris. "Now I know the guy can pitch in the big leagues, 'cause he got shot by a bullet and was about as calm as can be."

Indians spokesman Bart Swain said there was momentary panic on the bus before teammates realized Denney wasn't seriously hurt, and Ludwick said that's when "a lot of jokes started flying."

The 27-year-old Denney, who started Wednesday night's game against the Royals, said he hopes the shooter realizes the consequences could have been much worse.

"I thought it was just another prank, like a firecracker or something," Denney said. "I didn't know I was shot until I saw the blood."

Thu Sep 30, 9:35 PM ET

By ANDRES YBARRA, Associated Press Writer

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Holly: "Honey, what difference does it make – just so long as you are fabulous!"

If you need this answer help then I suggest you are not really a crossdresser! But if you must:

The trouble with writing a review of an autobiographical book about a transsexual is that it’s the same story you’ve read before. Different author, some different details, but the same story. Can one write the review without judging the person? Should one restrict the scope of comments to the quality of the writing and the means of telling the tale? And what should one assume of the audience for the review, what do they need to know? Should the review simply focus on the work at hand or is it a vehicle for the reviewer to discuss the whole problem of transsexuality?

This time it was lunch and just the three of us, my partner and I and my old not-quite-flame V. Now some 30 years past high school, we had no particular secrets and the freedom to talk about anything. I mentioned that I had heard from a woman E., who I met at the party, asking if I had read "She’s Not There". E’s interest was based on the continued involvement of her elderly mother with an MtF transsexual. According to E, this man wanted to become a woman so he could "learn how to do hair and makeup". I thought it an amusing coincidence to hear from E., because we’d just picked up the book for travel reading and my partner was in the middle of it. V’s response was to relate back to a paper and field research she had done years earlier where she was studying transsexualism. She had found that many people were surprised after transition, surprised to find that they had become transsexuals and not the women they’d supposed they’d become.

To me, the question is whether transsexualism is real, or the whole business of hormones and surgery is simply the best we can do right now to deal with a peculiar if not uncommon psychological delusion. It can’t be answered by narratives ending with the triumphant first few months or years after surgery. The life years and decades after is what matters to me. The relationships, the joys and sorrows of ordinary, daily life after the heroic struggle are the untold, never told story. So is Jennifer Finney Boylan a woman or a transsexual? As "out" as the former James Boylan is, who will ever just see Jenny as a woman?

On the positive side, Boylan’s analysis of the double-bind that exists for transsexuals should be required reading for people thinking about transition. If one is too focused on "femininity" one is seen as not really a woman because being a woman isn’t about acquiring hair, clothes, makeup etc. If on the other hand, one neglects those items, one is seen as not really being a woman, but a someone stuck with male characteristics. Such a perilous tightrope to walk. In these days when women feel they can be just about anything they want, and men are as constrained as ever by the John Wayne mode (never mind the current success of "Queer Eye For A Straight Guy" or "Metrosexuals"), male to female transsexuals are hit with constraints from all sides. They must be femme but not too femme. Boylan admiringly quotes Nora Ephron’s review of Jan Morris’ "Conundrum" on this point: "I was no good at any of it, no good at being a girl; on the other hand I am not half bad at being a woman. In contrast, Jan Morris is perfectly awful at being a woman; what she has become instead is exactly what James Morris wanted to become those many years ago. A girl. And worse, a forty-seven-year old girl. And worst of all, a forty-seven-year-old Cosmopolitan girl." I do wish that Ephron could write of Morris now, and see whether the Cosmo girl in fact grew up and became a woman.

I can recommend "She’s Not There" as a well written book. It seems honest and frank. But it does little to expand what we know, or think we know about transsexualism. Those books remain to be written. I hope that Boylan, with her exceptional skills as a writer and with her eye for detail does write a sequel in 20 years. I hope I’m around to read it.

[Glamourama]

The inhabitants of Hollywood will go to any lengths – however painful – to look perfect.

Los Angeles teems with plastic surgeons, dermatologists and cosmetic dentists. It's no surprise, then, that when Hollywood beauty experts create even a simple lip gloss, it comes with a "no pain, no gain" warning.

"The essential oils cause the blood to rush to the surface of the lips, flushing and swelling them slightly," say its creators. For just $15 a bottle, how could I resist the promise of a poor woman's collagen injection?

Seconds after application, a mild tingling sensation begins on my top lip and then spreads downwards. Half a minute later, both lips are burning fiercely. It feels like raw chilli is being rubbed on top of sunburn.

Yet this is Lip Venom's selling point. The irritation means it is working. My lips have turned pink and certainly feel hotter and more swollen when I rub them together.

According to the chemists at America's Good Housekeeping Institute, using Lip Venom for 28 days will increase lip fullness by as much as 1.17 millimetres.

This goes some way to explaining why its makers, DuWop, have a huge celebrity following. Fans are said to include Gwyneth Paltrow, Scarlett Johansson and Britney Spears, all looking for that perfect red carpet pout.

Celebrity make-up artist Cathy Highland, whose clients include Janet Jackson and Christina Aguilera, says: "I carry bottles of Lip Venom with me all the time and I have a hard time hanging on to them.

"My clients always want to take a bottle away with them. You either love the tingling sensation or hate it."

After 20 minutes, the reaction is meant to stop. But after I wipe the goo off and douse my mouth with cold water, my lips are still swollen and stinging.

My fabulously pink pout is spoiled slightly by a pained grimace and tears in my eyes. But in Hollywood, that's a small price to pay for beauty.