What would possess a man who's quite ordinary in most respects to pull on a little cotton dress, a pair of cheap rhinestone-studded sunglasses and a wig with a purple headband? Is he trying a mid-life foray into an alternative lifestyle? Is he going to a fancy-dress ball and needs to look smashing?

The answer to both is No. As a matter of fact, I'm wearing them to a fight.

Our town's second annual Relay For Life to raise funds for the American Cancer Society is slated for this weekend. The event has been dubbed "the town's biggest block party" and will feature a number of fun events. We're bringing in a "bounce house" and a couple of stock cars for the kids and an assortment of games and trinkets for everyone. Food booths and music will complete the carnival atmosphere, and the people who come out can also enjoy a silent auction. Behind all the festiveness and fun there is a deadly-serious battle: The fight against cancer. The games, the food booths and the auction all exist to raise money to provide support programs for cancer survivors and their families and to fund the search for a cure. I visited the first one last year. This year, I'm a team captain.

One of the fundraising events is called "Miss Relay," in which men doll themselves up in ladies' fashions and try to collect funds from friends and family among the crowd. The gentleman with the heaviest purse wins the coveted title of "Miss Relay" in a crowning ceremony, complete with tiara.

Being a good team captain, I offered the other men on my team the opportunity to be good sports and enter the "Miss Relay" competition. "Come on, it's for a good cause," I cajoled. My cajoling wasn't met with wild enthusiasm. In fact the replies ranged from glacial silence to an emphatic "NO!!" So, being the team captain, it fell to me to take on the duty. Such is the price of leadership.

The first step in meeting the challenge was to refocus my fashion eye. I didn't want to be just another guy in a halter top and Daisy Duke shorts; I wanted something to make the event special. But on the other hand I didn't want to blow a lot of money on a dress I'm only going to wear once. Where could I find that perfect balance between high fashion and low cost? But of course: The Goodwill Store!

One evening after work I drove to a Goodwill store in a section of town a good distance from my office and at least fifty miles from home. I felt a touch of trepidation as I parked my truck and walked to the store. I thought, "This is for a good cause. I can't show the white feather." "Like heck I can't," responded the other side of my brain. "I can show 'em the whole swan!" By that time I was inside; there was no retreat. I walked past the selection of used microwaves and about-1000-piece jigsaw puzzles, right into the ladies' section. Rows and rows of spartan racks held hundreds of blouses, skirts and dresses, all sorted by size and color. Magentas, turquoises and chartreuses all shouted from their hangers. Truly, I was in no-man's-land.

My eyes darted about the racks as my nerves shouted and tried to wave me off. I hurried past the blouses and skirts; I had no desire to spend time mixing and matching. The goal was to grab something, anything that would fit me, pay for it, stuff it in a bag and hit the road before someone from work showed up. I walked down to a rack stuffed with the largest items in the store. Just my rotten luck, there was some woman there doing some serious shopping for herself! I scanned the rack hoping for a white dress with blue-and-purple print flowers like Vicki Lawrence wore for her role as "Mama" on The Carol Burnett Show. The closest thing I found was a black-and-white checkered-print cotton dress with opposite-colored flowers in each square. I grabbed it off the rack and held it up; the top part looked about as wide as one of my shirts. I turned it from side to side. A familiar, decidedly masculine aroma passed through the air: The dress had been laundered in the same stuff they use to wash gym towels. Somehow I found the scent comforting. "Oh yeah, this'll do." I mused aloud as I tossed the dress over my arm. I caught the lady shopper giving me a quizzical look as I departed.

I made straight for the checkout, pausing only briefly to scan the purse collection. A man who appeared to be a truck driver watched me through narrowed eyes. "Some other time," I thought as I hustled off and dropped the dress on the checkout counter. I wasn't about to try it on in the store. I'd rather be out the $4.99 than explain to a crowd of rubberneckers why I had a dress on over my slacks and loafers.

I tossed the bag with the dress on the floor of the truck and made for home, glad to have my biggest purchase behind me. There was no sense in pushing my luck, I reasoned as I turned for the on-ramp. Tomorrow would have bargains of its own.

I left the dress in the truck when I got home. I figured I'd bring it in later after I had a chance to determine how my wife, who's already seen me through a few lapses of good sense and sanity, would react to this latest adventure.

After dinner I dug around in our closet and found the second piece of my ensemble: Carolyn's 1976-era wig. It's sort of a light brunette, about shoulder-length, and seemed to match well with the style of the dress, as far as I could tell. Miss Relay's tiara was as good as mine; now that I had my fashion basics it was time to accessorize.

After work the next day I went to another Goodwill store. The apprehension I felt the day before had eased a bit, but I still knew well that I wasn't in my home territory. I needed a decent-sized purse to hold the collected funds, and hopefully lots of them. Today's hunt was more difficult as the handbags and purses in this store weren't on one central rack; they were scattered throughout the ladies' department in wire bins atop the clothes racks! Faced with the possibility of wandering through foreign territory once again, I decided that perfect was nowhere near as important as big. I pawed through the first rack, enduring the same sidelong glances I'd felt the day before. There was nothing suitable. I stepped, still quickly, down the next aisle. Near the bottom of the bin I found a large white clutch purse. I pulled it out if the bin, opened it up and looked inside. It had a built-in coin pouch and most important, it was huge! I rolled it up in my arm like you'd carry a football and started for the checkout.

I decided while as I was there to take a moment and look for a good used turntable. I strolled over to the electronics department and wandered a bit, checking out elderly stereos, forlorn clock radios, and well-used toaster ovens, blenders and toys. I was almost around to home furnishings when I realized that I was wandering through the store carrying a purse! The realization rapidly turned to self-conciousness. I looked around the area; a few people turned their heads quickly away. "Well, I've made this big a scene," I thought, "what else can I do?" There was only one logical course left: I went shopping for shoes to match my bag.

Day Three came. Neither Goodwill nor Pay-less had the cheap canvas tennis sneakers I wanted. Actually, they had some, but not in a mens' 10 1/2. I contented myself with a pair of sandals. They're brown leather, so they don't coordinate too well with my white purse. But since it's only for one half-hour event it's hardly worth fussing.

I needed two things to finish off my costume I wanted something purple, because purple is the official Relay For Life color; and a large pair of cheap sunglasses. I found both at the local dollar store. For about six bucks I came away with a purple headband and a pair of black rhinestone-studded sunglasses. As a matter of fact the rhinestones may even be imitation...these babies are cheap! The checkout lady either thought that I picked them out for someone else or she was of the "don't ask, don't tell" mindset. "Oh, these are pretty" was all she said as she plunked them over the scanner.

At last the pieces came together. I gathered all my purchases in my den and spread them over the chair. I stepped back and admired the whole ensemble. "Not bad for under fifteen bucks," I thought. The only thing left to do was try it on. That's when the awesome, horrible realization struck me...I had to put on a dress! Worse yet, I'd have to wear it out in public amid friends and neighbors at a major community event! What had I committed to this time? I felt my face flush; at that point I wasn't sure that I was man enough to carry it off.

I could feel my bravado shrinking as I lamely flipped the dress over in my hands. I had no idea how to put it on. I checked for a zipper. There was none. I pulled at the buttons. They're just for decoration. I figured that it must just slip on like a big t-shirt.

"It's for a good cause," I mumbled as I slid my arms in...

o Will Buddy Ter have the cojones to get in touch with his feminine side?

o What will BT get more of: donations or propositions?