Moving along
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My party clothes are laid out: beige pants, grey T-shirt and a new dark blue blouse from a mail order catalogue. For the first time I pull out my dress shoes and try them on. They fit like gloves. In the mirror I study my appearance and my visage. Which doesn't look too good. What a dreary face. I try to laugh. That makes a difference. I can't know how others see me anyway. It occurred to me quite some time ago there can be an huge gap between how I envisage and feel myself and people's perception of me. For a long time I thought I gave love, radiated love. Even feared they'd think I'd look too much like Jesus with my long hair. But people told me: you, you are so rigid … and they said it with a look of disgust and incomprehension in their eyes. That hit home. I...

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