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'The Condition of my Return' by Sophie Michelle. "Come in and sit, Mr. Adamson." I put myself into the chair that Professor Forester pointed to. "You may think you know why you have been sent to me but you must understand I'm here to help you." I nodded. Some of the people, the specialists, the authorities had started with this lie. All the others had just got onto my case straight away. I preferred that approach. Had more honesty about it somehow. "Can't see what you can do to help me!" Forester ignored the hostility in my reply. "That is the first thing I must do to help, Stephen. Find out what is possible. I may call you Stephen, may I?" This was typical of the so called friendly approach. Asking my permission for something. He'd call me what he liked as we both well knew. When I didn't answer he just looked at me. This was a battle of wills, but his stare was just that little more unnerving compared to some of the others. "Me mates call me Steve." He seem satisfied with this response, and this was fine by me. My friends called me Stevie or Steph or Psycho, but these names belonged to me, not to him or 'them'. "You are an intelligent young man, Steve. You've started on a college course, and it was a tough course to get onto so you can't fool me that you are not clever." I nodded again but inside I was burning. I didn't need this patronising attitude. "But the college authorities have asked me to warn you, this is your last chance." That was more like it, an open threat. I could deal with that in the way I knew best. "Who says I need a second chance from those wasters?" Forester seemed to take a mental note of my answer but continued on his own line. "Let us examine your situation. Maybe you would like to describe it in your own words." I set off on my standard script, not my own words but the ones that had been fed to me by policemen, college authorities, social workers. Just the many people who'd interfered with my life through the years. "I've got into several fights, smashed up a few bars, stolen from a few people." "That's all?" What was that meant to be, a vote of surprise? He was trying to force out of me the only thing that I was truly ashamed of. "So I beat up a girl." "What can you tell me about the girl?" "So, she was in a wheelchair." "A girl who was helpless against your attack. Why did you do that, Steve?" "I dunno. Just the way she looked at me." "And that was enough to make you launch such a violent attack? Don't you think that was a cowardly thing to do" "Well, I was feeling sorry for her. She's had it hard, but then she looked at me as if to say she pitied me. Pitied me. What right did she have to pity me?" So I'd turned her chair over and kicked her three or four times. I could still here her screams echo in my head. Since then all these do-gooders had passed me from one authority to another. The students union at the college had passed a motion to have me expelled. I was not wanted back by my peers. So I was here. All I knew about the latest professor to look at me was he was some kind of specialist. Nobody explained what sort or what he could do for me. But I knew this was the last chance. "I am going to take you back to your early life, Steve. I will tell this story because I realise that retelling it yourself may be too traumatic. Too difficult for this process, anyway." I sat back, exhausted at the reliving of that one incident. I tried letting Professor Forester's words wash over me as he recalled my childhood. The tragedy of it felt distant, as if it belonged to someone else. "Your mother died when you were seven. A motor accident. You father died a year later." "He topped himself, didn't he!" That was not what I'd remembered. That's what I'd been told. But I wasn't having this man wash over that detail. "Yes, unfortunately your father was not able to overcome the distress of losing your mother. You were sent to live with a woman in the next town. Mrs. Venison." "They said she was my aunt. But I'm sure she wasn't." "That's what you were told?" Forester didn't wait for my answer, just made a note. " She had been a friend of your Grandmother, but I can confirm she wasn't a blood relation." "She hated my guts." "It was a difficult relationship." He picked up another file. I could see from the front it came from my old school. "It seems she was called in to your school on many occasions to discuss your progress and behaviour. Her attitude was apologetic to the school but she had only anger at you." I sat up in my chair. I was surprised by such facts. I had no idea the school would have recorded such things, the things I had lived through. It was even more surprising that I should learn about them now. "Everything I did at home was wrong. Everything Hazel did was right." "Who was Hazel?" I could tell he knew from the way he asked the question, couldn't believe he didn't know from the files. "Hazel was her niece. She was living there for the same reason as me." "So you didn't get on with Hazel." I had to put that fact right. "Oh no, I loved Hazel. She was sweet. Two years younger than me. Yes, I loved Hazel. But Aunt Brenda would always split us up when we were playing and tell Hazel things about me that weren't true. She taught her to hate me as much as she did herself." "This carried on for several years, yes?" "It did. I got used to not spending much time at home. Sometimes I hated this, not having somewhere to take my friends. Sometimes it was just part of life." "So how did this change when you were fourteen. The summer of that year wasn't it?" The answer to that question was so difficult to give. I'd almost buried it. I hadn't told all the other people because I didn't expect to be believed. But know I felt here was someone I could trust. His early friendliness I had mistrusted, just like I'd mistrusted all the others who had tried to be my friend. Somehow that had settled into a kind of honesty. Also he knew so much about me. Perhaps he had found out somehow. "I made a friend with a history teacher, Mr Lawrence. Well, he was better than most the others. He told me I was clever which nobody had before. And he started giving extra work to show him what I could do. I really wanted to impress him, but I didn't know where to do the work. At home Aunt Brenda would always interrupt me. She might have told the school she would make me do my homework but at home she was one reason I couldn't. She'd say things like 'You'll never amount to much. What's the point of you doing that." "So where did you do the work?" "I went to the library after school but that shut at six. So I went home really thinking I'd get it done there. I did something I'd not done before." "What was that, Steve?" "I asked Aunt Brenda, what I could do to make myself better in her eyes. I didn't say it quite like that of course." "And how did Mrs Venison react." "She said 'Be more like Hazel, of course.' She said it in a not nice way, but she wasn't shouting which was a change." "Did you ask her what she meant?" "Yes, I asked exactly that. She sent me to my room and I thought I was in trouble again. But she came in a few minutes later with a small pile of clothes. 'Put some of them on' she said. When she'd left I looked at my bed. It was a pile of girl's cloths. I wasn't sure what to make of them but I tried some on and Aunt Brenda came back and saw. Immediately she started being nice to me. She said things like she wished I'd become good a long time ago. Then she called me Ann which I thought was silly." "How did you feel wearing the dress?" "It felt odd to start with, but with Aunt being nice to me it was such a good change that I got use to it." "So now you started wearing girl's cloths all the time?" "Only at home of course, I'd avoid Aunt in the morning because if she saw me in my boy's uniform she would go back to the old ways." "How long did this go on?" "Just that summer. Things were better at home, and also at school because now I was getting more work done. When I got home I'd change back into the girl's role. After a while it became something to look forward too. Not really the dressing up but having a grown up at home who treated me with love. Soon being a girl became part of that love. Aunt would brush my hair as well into a more girlie way so I would look the part more. I was always a boy to me. I never told her that of course." "So what happened to end this. Did you rebel?" "No, school found out what happened. I think Hazel must have told a friend. Anyway Hazel and me were both sent away. I don't know what happened to Aunt Brenda." Forester read a line from his notes. "Mrs Venison was charged with cruelty and taken off the fostering list. She admitted everything so you were not asked to give evidence. It seems she had a long time pathological hatred of the male of the species, You should never of been put in her care to start with" I looked up at him, for a moment angry that this small explanation for my years of pain had been kept from me. I wanted to rail against the system again, but for now I wanted to see this meeting through. Here was a chance that all might become clear to me. That chance lay with Professor Forester. "After that you were sent to a Mr. and Mrs. Ripley. Forty miles away, because it was felt best you should be removed from all that you had gone through." "Yeah." The Ripleys were still the closest I had to guardians. Decent people, without much ambition for themselves. I had been putting them through hell. "How would you describe your life with them?" "It was OK. I'm sure I caused them more trouble than they did me. I missed my ex-teacher more than anything. I wanted him to be my Dad, but they said that wasn't possible." "How did school go?" "I wasn't a model pupil. It was better than before, not as good as that summer." "You were suspended twice there." "That was down to Frampton, he was my new headmaster. Frampton suspended kids for blowing their nose in assembly." "That's what you were suspended for?" "Not exactly. It was nothing." A spot of petty theft and a fight I didn't start but I wasn't telling that now. I felt Forester was pushing me back into my 'no good' role, and I was resenting that. Just when I'd been getting used to that of confessing victim. "But the cross-dressing stopped?" It took me a moment to understand what he was getting at. Wearing a dress was a way of getting love the only way I could. I'd never thought of it as cross-dressing. If he was questioning my manliness there was only one way I could react. "What the f*** are you saying. What you calling me?" I picked up a paper weight and threw it at the bookcase. The glass door cracked but did not smash. The weight fell to the floor with a thud. Somehow the fury had passed. I felt a need for self explanation, but Forester was talking. "Of course that stopped. There was no opportunity for it. The Riley's had the care only of boys. That's one reason they were chosen. But we are going to have to discuss your reaction to that question. Later. " "I'm sorry. Really I am Professor." "This session is over." There it was. I'd blown it. The only one of 'them' who'd shown me any understanding and I'd repaid him but damaging his furniture. "I'm sorry for wrecking your bookcase. Its just that I've always wondered why I was so happy that summer." I was trying to bring him back to his desk, playing a card I didn't realise I had in my hand. By the time I had finished he had reached his door and was showing me out. I stumbled and feel to my knees. It wasn't an intentional begging position but he took sympathy on me. "We will meet again and be reassured. The damage to the case is minor. Ten pounds at most. But we have achieved all we can this session. I have a report to write for your case conference." The case conference was set for the Monday of the following week. I couldn't face the Riley's so I took off. Went down to Brighton and raided my savings account. Booked into a B&B. I spent the weekend kicking pebbles along the beach. Sat around in tea bars at the cheaper end of the market. I looked around the outside of the pavilion. What a curious looking building that was. A party of Japanese tourists were being shown in by a guide, a tall woman in her early thirties. She gave me a smile and I walked away. I hadn't come down here to get myself any nookie with a desperate older woman. No reason to think she'd be desperate though. She'd been quite a looker. It was just that I found her smile disconcerting somehow. I had to be in the building when the case conference took place, but of course I wasn't invited into the room. I watched from an upstairs window as all the people with control over me entered below. The professor was early, carrying his report on me. Perhaps he had completed that over the weekend. There were policemen who had arrested me, the college department principle, even a representative of the students union, no doubt there to twist the knife. After the late arrival of the man from probation I knew, I slumped into the corner and read a magazine. At some point my eyes dropped and I napped uncomfortably. When I woke there was a woman in the room. She gave me a brisk "The professor will see you now". She showed me along the corridor to a room where Forester was waiting for me. I tried for a half smile. "So you're the judge and foreman of the jury are you. What is my sentence." "Sit down, Stevie. That's what you like to be called really, isn't it?" I gasped. He talked to me now as if he knew me, the real me inside. From being a friendly agent of enquiry with the command of the lucky guess, now he was looking straight through me. "I can't pronounce any sentence because no agreement has been arrived at. There is small majority for expelling you from college and washing hands of you but I begged to differ." "Well, Thank you." It sounded weak. I hoped he knew I meant it. "You may not thank me for what I have to say next. Not in the short term at least." I sat down, not waiting the be invited. This room was not as plush as the professor's own consulting room, and somehow in his velvet suit and cravat he seemed overdressed for the venue if not the occasion. "I have to ask a couple of questions first. To give my theory one last test. Why do you feel the need to create the havoc against property that you do. " I gave a shrug. I wasn't expecting such general a question. "Take your time now." I didn't take much more time. An answer had come to me that made sense. "They just seemed the right things to do at the time. That's what I do. I don't think it out you see." "You do things without thinking despite your obvious intelligence. You do them because you think that's what men do." He had replayed my answer to me, and later I was to see the significance of one extra word. "And what were you saying about your period of cross-dressing at the end of our previous session?" "About me being happy that summer?" I knew what I'd said, it had come from deep at a moment when my last chance seemed to be disappearing. I couldn't dig that deep now. I wanted to, for Forester, for myself. But there was so much to dig through, so much thick, almost treacly gunge in my mind that got in the way. "Being addressed as a girl by your aunt meant slightly more to you than the acceptance she then gave you, didn't it?" I nodded but could not find the words I needed to agree fully. "You were never told how I became interested in your case, were you Stevie?" "I've been passed through so many people I forgot what they were all for. Stopped bothering after a while. Had no control of my own, did I?" "I understand completely Stevie. The thing is, I am a specialist in a particular area. Many people put themselves my way and most of them I can help. But sometimes to help I have to go and find my patients because they will not come to me. I read about your case a year ago and it struck me quite immediately. Young man railing against society. His motives unclear, even to himself. There was some classic signs there. But when I discovered that his one period of happiness, when his behaviour towards everyone was impeccable, coincided with when he was pushed, almost forcibly, into another role." "I suppose I didn't feel the need to fight that summer." "But since then, Stevie, you felt that one period of contentedness move further away from you. You could not grasp quite what you took from hat time, so you thought it was the approval of Mrs Venison, a woman you hated." "With all my heart, but it was approval from anywhere I wanted, surely." "It was approval from yourself that you got those few months. Since then you have been trying to be a man, but you had no in built model of a man should be like, so you had to look for an external one. I don't think you should blame yourself for latching onto such an unfortunate one. The macho image is pushed at us from all angles by the media." "What do you mean, no in built model?" "I have to tell you that my speciality is as a gender psychologist. I have diagnosed you, and written of you in my report, as a clear cut case of repressed gender confusion." My knees felt like jelly. I was hearing his words and not understanding them and in the incomprehension there was terror. "I am sure that once we strip away some layers we will show that you are a male to female transsexual. If you assent to go on a program of transition, then I am sure I can convince the authorities to allow you back into the college. I don't think there is any other way forward for you. As a man, you will forever struggle against the person you project now. I can see a successful future for you, but only as a woman." "You want me to become a drag queen somehow." "No, the process will result in you being indistinguishable from any other female." "I'll think about it." "Stevie?" "I said I'd think about it, OK". "I'll need something stronger than that to go back into the room." "Go on, you do what you think is best." I half shouted at him but somehow he saw in this answer what he was looking for. "Once I learnt you preferred a slightly feminized form of your name, I knew this would be for the best." He left and I heard his footsteps make their way down the corridor, carrying my fate with him in a thick manilla folder. There was a pause while he stopped to talk to someone. The person he had met there must have had a gentler footfall altogether, because she was in the room before I realised. "Hello Stevie." I turned and saw the guide from the Brighton pavilion. How had she followed me here? And how had she known my name? When she smiled I knew the answer to the second question at least. "Mr. Lawrence?" She looked embarrassed and I felt my face flush red. "Miss Lawrence these days, though you can call me Amy." I waved her to where the professor had been sitting. Somehow, with everything that had happened to me in that small bare room I felt some kind of ownership. She sat and I noticed as she started to talk that her mannerisms were unmistakably feminine. I tried to remember if Mr. Lawrence had been like that, but there and never been anything at all camp about him. "All the girls had crushes on you!" She gave a smile but tried denial. "I'm sure that's not so. You didn't recognise me in Brighton, did you?" "How could I have done?" "That's a fair point. But I knew who you were, straight way, even after five years you spent growing. But I'm here to give an explanation. I rang around a few numbers of Saturday night and traced you to here. When the Professor told me what was going on, I knew I had to be here to help you." "So you went through a shock like I've had." "Not exactly. I always knew I was meant to be a woman. About the time I taught you I was getting my savings together for my change." "You don't teach now? You were really dead good." "Well thank you, but I liked teaching your class. Anyway, I didn't feel I could go straight back after transitioning. I love the job at the pavilion, but its worse paid even that teaching. Its a beautiful building though." Then Amy Lawrence, my former male teacher, explained in detail the process she went through to became a female. I listened intently, enjoying her story for itself because her ability as a teller of tales had not been lost at all. At the end I was burning with questions but somehow I could only find the one. "But what does it feel like to be a girl?" "I suppose its different for everyone, but for me its been a rebirth. I can see a future rather than a grey haze in front of me. And my whole body feels in tune with my mind." "And your body is completely changed." She gave me a wink and we both heard the footsteps returning. Professor Forester came back into the room and placed the file on the window sill. "Its all settled then," he said in his kind voice that still invited no argument. "The college will re-admit you as a student next year to start a course afresh. The one condition being that you voluntarily submit yourself to my sex reassignment program." "Where am I going to get the money for that?" "Oh, the programme will be free for you. I will accept you has my one annual NHS patient. As far as living expenses go, I have a friend who can give you a job in the meantime. It will mean moving down to Brighton, but since Amy here has agreed to be your supporter and landlady, that's the best place for you." "When do I start?" I was asking all these practical questions but not the one I wanted to. 'Was this really happening to me?' "Give yourself a week to settle in down there. Then I will see you in my centre there this time next week." Amy gave me a lift down the following afternoon. We had collected a few things from my college room, and then drove over to the Ripley's. They were out, which was a relief, and I let myself in and crept into my room. Amy followed me in and let out a 'Wow' when she saw my wall covered with motorbikes and a few female nudes. I packed what cloths I could find into my hold-all but then had a thought. "I'm not going to be needing all these male clothes, am I?" "What were you planning on wearing then?' I went over to where she was studying my pictures closer. "Sorry about all this." I'd always declared this a girl free room, and this was the first time my display of maleness has been exposed to a woman. Unless I was going to accept this redefinition of myself, and I was struggling with that still. "I shouldn't worry. My room looked just like this for a while. It was my way of keeping myself reassured." She looked down at my bag stuffed full of this and that. "Ready?" "Except. About the Clothes." "I doubt anyone will expect you to rush things. You'll be a boy for a good few weeks yet." Weeks, she had said, and suddenly that seemed a short length of time. There was a turn of a key downstairs. Mrs Ripley called out 'Is that you Derek?" I made my way downstairs. She could tell there was someone at home, and my foster father was not going to make himself known, not being there and all that. "Oh its you, Stevie. I thought you might ring." I turned to Amy who had followed me downstairs. I didn't know how to start explaining what had been decided on my behalf. I looked from one woman to the other, and the female world seemed so foreign to me. That my new friend had once been in a similar position wasn't making anything easier. "Its all right, Gina knows everything, you know." "I was in on the conference. That professor has made things quite clear. We all want what's for the best." I fell into my step mothers arms and cried. Here was a woman who had been up half the night, opened the door to the police on many occasions, all over me. And at this crucial time, when I did not know who I was, she was still there for me. After a pot of tea had been shared, I got restless to go. "You don't have to worry about Derek you know. We both agree," said Gina Ripley. "If this process is a success for you, we would like to put the past behind us. Your old enough not to need fostering now, but we would like to adopt you as our daughter." This was the first time someone other than Forester had used a female word to describe me. The offer was kind, melted my heart, but I didn't feel ready for it yet. I gave Gina a hug and we set off for the coast. Amy's flat was pristine and well decorated, and she showed me to a room that was neutral in colour, pastel shades of yellow. "I've tidied up for my guest, I'm not always this organised." She laughed as I looked round the room. "You can decorate it as you'd like. Don't mind me." For the first few days of my new life, I wandered around town just as I had that weekend. Amy put in the hours as a tour guide and also spoke to local groups on history for two evenings. "I'm not always this busy but another guide's unwell and the bookings for speaking just came up. can't afford to turn them away." As she told me all this I listened to her new, almost lyrical female voice that had no hint of the man I had known. Her smile was similar, but there was no way anybody who knew nothing of her past would guess. She was also one of the happiest people I'd met. She left a few books in my room about the process of changing sex, but otherwise she treated me as a friend who had come to stay, and slowly I began to feel at home. I still couldn't quite believe why I was there. There was a reality to it I could not grasp. In my walks about town I looked at men and women my age and the fact that I would be changing from one to the other still seemed something of a game. I tried to think of all the slang words I sometimes applied to females, seeing if I could fit the role. Lass, chick, bird, even babe. It was not that I wanted to pull out. I wanted to make something of myself, and if Forester had not yet convinced me this was the only way, then I would at least hear him out. The following Monday my life of leisure came to an end. I had a session with the professor in the morning in which we went over a lot of the same ground. "I can see you are not quite accepting the changes that will happen, but that you want to." I wasn't sure about either, but he took me to meet his friend. Mrs Galworthy ran a guest house and tea shop one block back from the front. The caf? side of the business had just expanded and she wanted someone else to wait at tables. "You'll be given full training and you have to accept things will be busy at times. I can be short with my staff when things are hectic, but you'll find me someone you can turn to." I admired her blunt form of friendship, Then she took me into the back room and measured me. After reaching round in a draw she put several items of clothing into two bags. "This is your uniforms. Two of each type, which is of course twice what the other staff get. You are responsible for their laundry I expect you to be a waiter for the first two weeks. If after that you would prefer to be a waitress, just wear the appropriate outfit. I've employed transsexuals before and my customers are quite used to such things. I started work the next day and at first things were tough. I had never done work like this before, and training consisted of just twenty minutes every morning with Mrs Galworthy, or more usually one of the girls. I was the only male employee. For the time being at least. The days became weeks, and soon waiting at table became second nature. I started enjoying the job. Amy was good company when she was around, but her state of busyness was more the norm than the exception. Professor Forester and I fell into a routine of discussing my transition. But despite such comforts I felt lonely. Very lonely. My relationship with my co-workers was cordial, but nothing more. They all had their secrets between them, and they knew my only secret. I soon learnt they were all natural girls, so I had nobody there with whom to share my special fears. On the third Monday session, a nurse in the professor's centre called me in. She chatted about the weather but gave me a large injection. I looked at her in surprise and she consulted her notes. "Yes, you were due your first dose of estrogen today. It will be in tablet form from now on." When I was in with the professor I mentioned what had happened. He just smiled. "Thought it was about time to start filling you up with girl juice." He said, but later in the session he said, "You are fighting this too much Stevie. If you want this to succeed, and find the real you, you need to start thinking about what sort of future you want." It was a warning shot across my bows and I felt it. I needed a long chant with Amy, but she was out until late. I sat in front of the TV, watched Eastenders and some quiz shows but nothing was going in, nothing was making sense. Then around midnight there was a noise at the door. I knew before she entered the room that Amy was not alone. The man had his arms around her but when he saw me, he turned and went to the door. "Simon, let me explain." But he was gone. "Thankyou, so very much," she shouted at me. I went to my room. Best to keep my distance. After a short while, there was a knock at the door. "Sorry, Stevie." "Why didn't you tell him I was a lodger? Before you got here?" "I thought you'd be in bed. You were all...." She tailed off. "You were going to say all the other times. He's been here before?" "Not Simon." She sat on the side of my bed. "But other men?" "Yes, other men. I'm a woman, Stevie. Until the age of twenty-seven I was sex starved. Not starved exactly, because I had no interest. But once my transition was complete, I discovered what sex was for, and I've been trying to make up for lost time." She started to cry and I put my arm around her. "It brings out the worst of me, and I hate myself sometimes." "You've had a steady boyfriend?" "I had one, really caring guy. Spoilt it didn't I?" "Amy?" "Sleeping around. One wasn't enough then. It would be now, if I could only find the man." We rested our heads together. A thought occurred to me that wasn't entirely pleasant. "There's not something I can do for you, is there? Because I'm not sure I could." "Lord, no! Sleeping with one of my pupils, that would never do." She looked at me and I'm sure she saw my relief. "Besides, I want a man and you have the soul of a woman." "You really believe that?" "I thought it from the first time I met you in class. It wasn't only your academic potential I saw hidden then." "But I knew nothing of myself then." "But you do now?" I explained what Professor Forester had said to me that morning. "I know everyone is doing the best for me, when I look at girls round town I stop and wonder. Its like I've stopped eyeing them up in one way and started evaluating them as what I could be." And so from our one short row developed the conversation I really wanted to have with Amy. She went through all the good and bad things about being female. The feelings of freedom she had and also male sex pests and the nuisance they could be. "I can't really explain the beauty of walking along and feeling my breasts move with me." "And, er, what about." I pointed downwards. "What does it feel like there." "Not having a bulge in my trousers? Just great. Here, take a look." So for the first time since I became friends with the female Amy, she showed me what she had. What amazed me was how her breasts and vulva looked just like any other woman's. "The professor has done me proud, you'd say'. "You were Forester's patient?" "Of course. Thought you knew that. And someday he will do the same for you. You have to believe that, Stevie." By the next meeting with the professor, I had done a lot of thinking. I started visualising what I would look like as a girl. I stared imaging myself as a girl. And once I got to that way of thinking, it became easier to see the future. I started taking the tablets I was prescribed in regular dosages and booked sessions with a local electrolysist. Two weeks later, I asked Amy if we could have the professor round for a meal. She smiled yes and started making arrangements. "I want to cook for you both." "No, this one's on me, Stevie, you have enough to think about already." After the meal of pasta and vegetables, I reached into my soul and started to speak. "I've taken a lot of time to come to terms with myself I know. I've tried the patience of both of you, but I do now accept that I will soon be a female. I also know this is right for me." They gave a little round of applause as I'm sure they thought my announcement deserved, but all I could feel was the weight of nearly twenty years of false expectations fall away. I could now see myself in just the way that Amy and the professor always could. More than any other moment this was when I started seeing myself as a woman. When the professor had gone, Amy asked how I felt and I explained how the new me had emerged to myself with those words. She went into her room and brought out a small suitcase. We opened it together and there were a collection of skirts, dresses and blouses. For the first time since I was sent from Aunt Brenda's I presented myself as a girl. And the moment I stepped into pencil skirt and put on the blouse I felt I'd arrived somewhere. Somewhere called life. When I look back, the next few weeks seemed a blur, everything happened so quickly. The female hormones I'd been taking really kicked in so my hips grew out and so did my chest. Every day the growth there seemed that much bigger, and before long a bra was a necessary item for comfort. I wrote to Gina Ripley and told her what was happening. I said I was sorry if her offer of adoption had not been greeted with much of a response before, but that now I would be happy to be her daughter. I signed myself Stevie, but I added that name didn't seem to fit much now. She wrote back and invited me to London immediately. Also in her letter she agreed with my point on name. She wrote: "I hope you will call yourself Miss Ripley now, but don't lose touch with your family name. You were an Adamson, and as your mother now I'd like the privilege of choosing for you the name Adele." Now I had all I needed to live full time as a female, which of course meant I was now a waitress at Mrs. Galworthy's tea shop. All at once the job seemed even easier, and her female uniform of pink blouse and thigh length black skirt made me feel more at home in the place. I put in an order to change my name by deed poll to Adele Stephanie Ripley, and started to use the name immediately. By the time I visited my new parents, Dad was able to say without any trouble, "You've become a very fine young lady." After a while the pace of change slowed down again. The professor asked Amy to organise a timetable for me, and this meant fitting into my working day deportment lessons and visits to a plastic surgeon, Mr. Jones, who planned with me what could be done to my face. The electrolysis continued and was a definite low point of my week. In addition Amy herself filled me in with other details she had learnt on life as a female. I was having a great time now. Every day now brought me a little closer to what had become my number one dream, that of being a woman in the world. I enjoyed the job in the way one would a holiday job, knowing greater challenges awaiting me professionally, but that I was being accepted for who I now was. Every time a member of the public used a female word to describe me, 'waitress', 'that girl', or just the pronouns 'she' or 'her', I got a great big buzz of satisfaction. I loved my new name too, and my whole new identity. I could not believe why I had resisted so long. The following summer was a season more magical than my summer as a girl six years before because now I knew it would continue. When autumn finally drew in, Professor Forester called me into his office. "We have to work out a timetable for the rest of your transition, Adele. Your college course will restart in three weeks and I can see no reason why you should not retake your place. You are a woman now in nearly every respect, and so have met the condition laid down." "I'm not sure my interest in engineering has survived though." This was something that had been troubling me all summer. "There should be no problem in you restarting with a different course." "I fancy History. Perhaps with business studies. Is that possible?" "I'll contact the college on your behalf. Now we have two other things to organise. Jones reckons you are ready for your face remodelling this week. I think it best you do this before your course starts. It will remove the last possible chance of your being read there as transsexual." "The other thing?" We both knew what this meant. "Your sex reassignment surgery I have planned for December 17th. That will be my little gift to you for Christmas." I couldn't think of a better gift for a girl. The last bandages of my plastic surgery were off the day before I was due back. True to his word I was now a history student, with a minor in business. But even better, I was now unmistakably a female student. Fitting in was so much easier second time around. Though it was known on campus that last year's trouble maker was back in a different gender, nobody ever tried guessing it was Adele Ripley. The first term had its frustrations, not least the male attention I was getting which I could do nothing to encourage for fear of discovery. But basically I was having the time of my life, going on girls' night out, joining the hall netball team, buying new clothes when I could afford them. When Christmas did come I was sorry to see ten of the best weeks of my life over. But I had unfinished business. I arrived late on a Sunday night at Amy's. She introduced me to John, her new man, and he was charming to me. I was so happy to see my best friend in love. The following morning I booked into the Professors clinic. Five days later, with Christmas just two days away I woke with a strange numbness between my legs. I looked down to see so much heavy bandaging. There was a lot of discomfort in finding a good way to lie, and I was impatient to see what I looked like. "There'll be plenty of time for that," said the nurse. On Christmas day my new mum and dad came down to see their new daughter. I'd been pestering Forester for two days non-stop, so at last he relented. "I suppose a girl should be allowed to see her presents on this day." Slowly the bandages were unwound, and my most important people could see me for real. There was a certain amount of swelling but not as much as I thought. Otherwise what I saw was a perfect set of female genitals. All sign of my penis and balls were gone. After my visitors had gone, the nurse brought out a large plastic mould. "Right Adele, you will have to insert this into your vagina three times a day for the first few weeks." I knew this was going to hurt, but just the phrase 'your vagina' made me so happy I could cope with anything. That was all four years ago. Now Amy and I run our own business of tour guides called 'The History Girls.' Amy is married to John, and I'm engaged to Leo. I have a wonderful life ahead of me as a member of the female sex. END