My stomach wriggled. My words u*********sly slurred."Pizza!" she said.She! Yes! She! This was no pizza boy! No! This was a woman! And what a woman!"Pi...za!!" she said, a bit impatiently, again."PPPllease cccome in." I, through my extreme nervousness (it took all my conscious effort), calmly directed her into the living room and motioned toward the couch. She, without a bit of hesitation, without a bit of surprise - almost as if this was a regular occurrence during her nocturnal pizza travels -. It was thenthat it hit me. I couldn't pick a persona by what I was wearing, and myclothes certainly weren't going to be able to define who I was. I wouldbe who I was, I didn't have any choice about that. On occasion, I couldbe whoever I wanted to be, or whoever the situation suggested I be, andthen switch back again or to something else altogether, no matter what Iwore. There had to be a me there to begin with, and that me could bedressed up any way I wanted. Although I understood that I. More

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