Love, Lipstick and Lies by Katie Price Read Free Book Online Page B

himself for fighting? Did he even want to be a fighter? Or was he punishing himself for wanting to cross-dress every time he put up his fists? I now think that his fights were very traumatic for Alex and that they went against his true nature. He fought to prove that he was manly, but he dreaded them too. I think he was being tormented and torn apart by his own conflicting feelings. He desperately needed help, that was certain, and our short-lived marriage was falling apart.
    By now I hated everything about him dressing as Roxanne. After first thinking it was something new and adventurous, I had come to view it as seedy, disgusting and vile. His cross-dressing compulsion had completely taken over the Alex I’d believed I knew. And I thought, This is taking me down a road I absolutely don’t want to go down. I told him how I felt, broke down in tears more than once as, again and again, I begged him to stop. But I couldn’t seem to get through to him, and he couldn’t seem to stop.
    The worst moment came when I was away on a book signing tour in the autumn and couldn’t get hold of Alex by phone. I had a sickening feeling that I knew exactly why. When I finally got through to him, I said, ‘What are you doing? Are you being Roxanne?’
    ‘Yes,’ came his reply in that disturbingly quiet voice he spoke in when he was cross-dressing.
    ‘I’m coming home now. You’ve got to take it all off and stop!’ I shouted.
    The thought of going back to find him in that state repelled me. I was frightened by the thought of being alone with him if he was going to be Roxanne, because that meant he would be completely unreachable, in a trance, in his own world. Desperate for some support, I phoned my friends Jane and Derek and asked them to come over with me. I couldn’t do this alone. Thank God, they immediately agreed to. I needed my friends.
    When I arrived home there was no sign of Alex downstairs. Oh, God, that meant he was still in the bedroom, which meant he was still being Roxanne. I felt sick with dread as I walked up the stairs. I couldn’t believe that this was happening, that this was what had become of our marriage. Trying to stay strong, I opened the door. The room stank of cigarette smoke, booze and sex.
    Inside I was confronted with the most shocking sight. Our bedroom had been turned into a sex dungeon. My husband, dressed up in stockings, suspenders, heels, make up and a wig, had tied a strap-on dildo to my dressing table. I won’t describe exactly what he was doing – I’ll leave it to your imagination. What I will say is that it was the worst thing I have ever seen.
    I can hardly tell you how disgusted I felt. It was gross, vile behaviour. It was like he was degrading himself and me. Sex toys were scattered all over the bed. He was so out of it, and so lost he didn’t even look up as I walked in, but carried on with what he was doing. I stormed over to him.
    ‘Stop doing that!’ I screamed. ‘Get that shit off … now!’
    Finally he looked at me, that horrible vacant expression in his eyes, a prisoner in his warped Roxanne world.
    ‘I’m going downstairs, and when I come back, you’d better have taken all this off!’ I shouted.
    But it took more shouting, screaming and pleading from me before he stopped and switched back to being Alex.
    I couldn’t stand any more of this. Yet again I begged him to stop the cross-dressing, told him that it was destroying our marriage. I said he had to get help and see a therapist, and he promised he would. I said I would help him and pay for therapy. But nothing made any difference. When he finally went it was no help at all. Alex didn’t change his behaviour in the least.
    I was so disturbed by what was going on that I confided in his mum. It was Bonfire Night and I was having a party for friends and family. It was not news to her as she knew all about Alex’s cross-dressing. When I had first met him he was living at home and I’d always felt like a teenager when