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Lady in Training By MichelleA Edited by Misty Dawn My name is Mike. Well to follow Mom's latest rules, its Michelle Elizabeth Williamson. Life has been kind of weird lately. Mostly, Mom has been acting really strange. Not that she can be considered normal by most standards, but that is another story. Let me start at the beginning, to explain why I am concerned. As long as I can remember Mom liked to dress me in frilly girl's clothes. No one else dressed like that. Dressed that way I would be too embarrassed to appear in public. No way could I ride bikes, climb trees or do any fun things with the guys. I've always been hyperactive with a long and lanky build (you can insert 'beanpole' here). Just before I started First Grade, everything came to a head. I rebelled and refused to ever wear a dress again. I declared that I would only wear boy's clothes from then on. It was quite a battle with many fights and missed days of schools over clothes. She finally relented with the condition that I wore dresses around the house. This very uneasy truce held for several years. Just before school started last year, for 8th Grade, Mom brought me to a new doctor for a physical. She came out very worried, but didn't tell me anything. Following that appointment, there were several other doctor's appointments. Specialists, I guess. There was a lot of poking and probing during those visits. Not to mention all the blood, urine and other type tests. Of course, there were several x-rays, too. All of these test done to me without a word of explanation. After that she calmed down for a while. Occasionally, she would look funny at me, but claim nothing was wrong. That year, I started getting into trouble with a few of my friends. Their parents blamed it all on my bad influence. Mom tried everything to correct my wildness. She tried grounding me from activities, toys and fun. Restricting access to any and all my friends seemed her favorite method. She even tried extra work assignments for me, from both home and school. She tried everything except physically beating me. Maybe that would have worked, but I doubt it. Naturally my grades were down in the dirt, but I managed to keep them just high enough to pass to the next grade. Provided I completed summer school classes to make up the work I was deficient in. Summer school wasn't much different. I usually kept on the outer edge of trouble. After all, I was the instigator. One prank in particular almost caused me to be expelled. I think that the only thing that saved me was the chaos that occurred during the Principle's stroke. That and I stole the report from his desk during the excitement. Mom needless to say was upset. I didn't know it then, but she was about to rain on my parade. Two days later I was back in the doctor's office. Coincidence or not, I don't know. It was a repeat of the tests of the previous year. After the tests were finished, Mom had a conference with the doctor. As she came out, she wasn't smiling, really. The Doctor was just finishing saying that the "intervention of the hormones should have the calming effects that they had discussed." Her face showed relief. She did have several prescriptions in hand and all she said to me was "these should solve much of your anti-social behavior problems. When we finally reached the house, she laid down the new law. She told me that the doctor had found both vitamin and hormonal deficiencies. Until further notice, I was to take the little pink pills, in addition to a mix of several others. If she ever caught me 'forgetting' to take the pills, I would soon regret my negligence. That is when she dropped the bombshell. "The rules have changed," she said: "First, you will no longer be called Mike, from now on you will only answer to Michelle." "Second, all your jeans and tee shirts are to go out to the garage in boxes." "Third, the only things you will wear are dresses or skirts with blouses. Naturally, you will appear only with all the appropriate underwear." "That is all you let me wear around the house now," I complained. "The rules have changed," she said with enthusiasm. "From now on you will wear a skirt or dress everywhere except to bed. Night wear will be nightgowns or the like with no pajamas allowed." "Fourth, you will no longer play rough and tumble with the guys," she continued. "Physical contact or getting yourself dirty is not permitted." "Five, you are to learn how to act like a young lady," Mom continued. "In fact, you should try to emulate Lynda Snyder down the street. She is a perfect example of how a young 'Lady in Training' should act." "You mean little Miss Snyder of the Pawtucket Snyder's?" I sneered. "Mom, what you see is NOT what you get. She is a stuck-up, backbiting, air-headed, two-bit slut. The running bet is whether she gets pregnant, a STD or sent to a convent before the end of the school year. I don't see anything that she is nor does that make me want to try to be like her." "Be that as it may, you will learn to act like a young lady," said Mom. "I expect you to copy her public image as a 'Lady', not the private behavior that you describe. Starting right now, you will go to your room and change your clothes." "We are right back where we were when I first started school," I said. "I refuse to be seen in public wearing any dress in my closet. I'll wear them at home for you, but that is as far as I will go." "What is wrong with those dresses?" asked Mom. "I think they are beautiful." "Sure they are beautiful, if you are four years old, color blind and have no fashion sense at all," I moaned. "I'll wear dresses and skirts if and only if I get to pick out the colors and styles. You can veto anything that you think is inappropriate for my age, but otherwise I have my choice of clothes. Is that agreeable with you?" "Do you mean to tell me that there is nothing in the clothes that I bought you that you will wear?" asked Mom. "Mom, as long as I can remember you have looked like a mom out of a 50's sitcom," I explained. "Dressed for a night on the town, just to wash the laundry, is a bit over the top. No other mother in this State does that. I know that you love me, but please let me have my way on this. Please?" "If that is what it will take to get your compliance to my rules, I'll agree," she replied, after a little thought. "There is no time like the present to get started. Grab your things and let's go shopping." "I think I will regret this," I moaned. "I'll be the laughing stock of the whole neighborhood. What will the guys say to this?" "Don't worry about it, you will look lovely," cooed my mom. "All you need is just a little padding in the right places. Trust me, dear." "I trusted you before and now I have a closet full of dresses I refuse to wear," I retorted. "I agreed to do this, but I still have my reservations." "You lock the front door while I get the car out of the garage," said Mom. "I think we'll start at the Stregg's Mall. They have some nice lingerie stores there." By the end of the day, we had a dozen sets of padded bras (34A) and padded panty briefs. Included were several slips, camisoles, tights, panty hose, and socks; three dresses, 5 skirts and 9 blouses to mix and match. The accessories we bought are to numerous to mention. When I asked about a pair of jeans or pants, stonewalls are more responsive than Mom was. Oh yes, she went 'nutz' when it came to picking out shoes. Is her real name Imelda Marcos? School started out as bad as I thought it would. With my short hair, I looked a sight. I could hear more than one snicker as I passed by. At least, my previous reputation as an instigator kept everyone but my friends at bay. During the second week of school, I was caught while trying to set up a prank. Damn skirt got caught in the door; otherwise I would have gotten away. (Standard Vice-Principle Lecture Number 18) Mom picked me up at the Principles office (Standard Pissed-Off-Mom Lecture Number 21). She immediately went and signed me up for ballet class. Detention and ballet class for the same crime, where is the law against double jeopardy? Then, to add insult to injury, Mom bought me a hot pink exercise suit. Gees. Two weeks later, Mom found a small school that taught etiquette to young ladies. Yuck. Every Saturday after that I spent learning the finer points of being a 'Princess'. By the second month of school, I had started on an emotional roller coaster. It wasn't until several months later that I realized what the cause was. Duh, what happens when you feed the body hormones? My nipples had started to be extremely sensitive to the touch. I soon appreciated the bra I had to wear. By this time, I had mellowed out and most of my friends had started to drift away from me. Finally my best friend 'Rock' said, "Mike, what happened to you? Your Mom puts you in a dress and now you're acting just like a girl. You're just as boring as the rest." As he walked away, I had the unwelcome thought 'nice buns'. "Where did that come from?" I shrieked to myself. With no rough and tumble clothes to play in, with no transportation other than 'biped express', life became a drag. Out of boredom, I actually started to study some. Consequently my grades started to improve. As I returned home from school on Friday just before Thanksgiving, Mom said. "Michelle, this weekend we are going to clean the spare bedroom for Grandma Avery. She will be coming here to help you learn how to be a young lady." "How long will she be staying with us, Mom?" I asked. "Partly that depends on you and how fast you learn," said Mom. "She will be staying at least through Easter." Grandma Avery is the only relative I know of. Grandpa Avery died of a heart attack before I was born. According to Mom, Grandma and Grandpa Williamson both died in an auto accident when my father was in college. I was cleaning the spare bedroom and found some old family papers. These were the birth certificates for my mother (Elizabeth Anne Avery) and my father (Michael James Williamson), and their marriage certificate. Now, I've never seen my father. Mom says, "There was an accident and his body was never found." This was shortly after I was born. Other than that she refuses to talk about it. I can live with this and have for all my life. The information that I discovered today frightens me. Attached to Mom's birth certificate was an old telegram, announcing her birth. It read: "Mother and daughter doing fine Stop Elizabeth Anne arrived 10:22p.m. Stop 20 1/2 inches blue eyes brown hair Stop." What is wrong with that you say? The mom I know is brown eyed with blonde hair. She is a truly natural blonde and she doesn't wear contact lenses. Who is she then, if not my mother? Was I kidnapped as an infant? Who was I, really? Why did Mom want to make me a 'Lady'? Couldn't I just stay me? The following days until Thanksgiving were a severe strain. Who could I go to, if not my mother? Grandma should know... if she is really my grandma. However, she accepts my Mom. If she is not my mom then who is she and why does Grandma accept her? It was close to a 'Catch 22' choice. Do I even ask if she is my Mom? If she is, it's a stupid question. If she isn't, why should she tell me she isn't? From Sunday to Wednesday when Grandma arrived, I had only slept about 2 hours a night. Needless to say, I was distraught. Mom to her credit was concerned and tried several times to find out what the problem was. I tried to pass it all off to my upset stomach which was bothering me. She may not have slept much more than I did. When Grandma arrived, I helped her carry her things in. After all her things were brought in, Mom went to start dinner. I stayed with Grandma helping her put her things away. As I was putting her empty suitcase on the top shelf of the closet, it slipped and slammed into my left nipple. I screamed grabbed at my nipple and passed out from the pain. I woke up, on the spare bed, with Mom and Grandma looking on. "What happened, dear?" Mom asked. "The suitcase slipped and hit my nipple," I explained. "The pain was too much for me. Does it ever stop hurting, Mom? Grandma?" "Yes it does, Dear," answered Grandma. "One day they may give you some very pleasant feelings. Now that we know you are all right, why don't you take a nap until dinner is ready?" They left and turned out the lights. I was soon fast asleep trying to catch up on my missed sleep. I woke up in the dark with stomach cramps. Making my way to the bathroom, I sat to relieve myself. When I saw blood on the paper I screamed for the second time today. I was in shock. Mom and Grandma were there almost immediately or so it seemed. "What's the matter?" Mom asked. "Did you hit your nipple again?" "No," I cried. "When I wiped myself, I found it all bloody." Then I broke into tears. "That's a relief," Mom said. "You had me afraid that you were in pain and dying? What is that I smell? Dinner is burning. Mom, would you take care of Michelle? I have to see to dinner." "Go ahead, dear," said Grandma. "I think it's time for Michelle and me to have a little heart-to-heart talk. Let's go to your room and talk, dear." Grandma taught me all about women's period and how important it was to keep clean. She also explained the necessity of maintaining a diary at least until they became consistent. This information I needed but it still didn't answer my doubts about Mom. Nor did it answer why Mom seemed a bit callous about the whole thing. "Do you feel better now, dear?" asked Grandma. "I know you are still having cramps. I mean calmer." "Yes, Grandma," I replied. "At least about my period. It was just a shock to see it. Most of the other girls have already had theirs. I was just hoping mine would just stay away. Mom's reaction was a little upsetting. Almost like it was a relief. No big deal. Grandma, who is my real Mom?" "Whatever do you mean, Michelle?" asked Grandma. Retrieving the birth certificates, I showed them to her. "Look at these and answer my question," I demanded. "I think your mother deserves to be here when I answer that question," said Grandma with a sickly expression. "Let's go to the kitchen so that we can sit and discuss this." We walked into the kitchen and Grandma handed the certificates to Mom. She then repeated my question. For a moment I thought Mom was going to faint. As it was she sat down rather suddenly and began to cry. "Shall I start this out while you collect yourself?" inquired Grandma. At Mom's nod Grandma began. "Your mother was a normal and happy child," said Grandma with a smile. "Your mother and father were next door neighbors. They were inseparable. It was hard to tell which house they actually lived in. Or, which set of parents belonged to which child. She was an excellent student and very active in school activities, just as your father was. They delayed their marriage until after your father graduated from the State College nearby. Your Grandpa Williamson worked for the Breining Engineering Corporation. They fund a scholarship program for the children of employees entering the Engineering field." "Early in your dad's senior year, a drunk going the wrong way on the interstate, hit your grandparents car head on," Grandma continued. "The drunk driver and your grandparents died in that crash. It was later found that, the drunk driver's license had already been revoked for vehicular manslaughter. His case was still waiting to go to trial when it happened. In addition, he was using a false name on the driver's license he had on him. His insurance carrier had also revoked his insurance policy 3 months before." "Your father was devastated," Grandma asserted. "The real problem was with your mother, though. Her reaction was out of proportion to what happened. She was eventually diagnosed with clinical depression. However, it took several months before that occurred. After they started her on medication, she returned to her normal vibrant self." "They were married in June, following your father's graduation," Grandma reminisced. "He had been hired as a Junior Engineer at Breining shortly before. She was such a beautiful bride. They honeymooned in San Diego, California. The following January your Grandpa Avery was working late one night and never came home. They found him lying next to his car at 3 o'clock in the morning. He had suffered a major heart attack while trying to change a flat tire." With that said, Grandma became silent, but tears now streaked her face. "In May," she continued, "I was delightfully informed that I was going to be a grandmother. Your coming birth, Michelle, was extremely happy news, after a year of sadness. Sadly, the joyous event was to be marred by more pain and loss. Our lives would soon change, forever." Mom silently walked over to Grandma and sat down. She then held her and comforted her, as you would a little child. Then she spoke, "Michelle, I will continue the story, and answer your question. Please, don't interrupt until I finish, so that you will understand what we have done. More than that, I want you to understand why." 'When your parents were first married, they were very happy," Mom started. "Shortly after you were conceived, things began to change. It was not noticeable at first. Your mother would be her normal loving self and then suddenly turn vicious. There was no rhyme or reason. It was so bad that your father considered hospitalizing your mother. Even a divorce was a possibility. Then about 5 weeks before you were due, he tried to talk her into going to see the doctor. There was a big fight ending in separate sleeping arrangements for the night. Early that morning she entered his room and mutilated his genitals and left the house. He was able to call for an ambulance and apply enough pressure to slow the flow of blood long enough to receive medical treatment. Neither the paramedics nor the police could find all the missing parts." "Your mother was found a few hours later," she continued. "She had crashed into a bridge support. Witnesses report that after she left the car, she started to slam her head into the bridge's concrete wall screaming about the pain in her head. It took several people to subdue her. By the time the ambulance arrived she had lapsed into a coma. She never awoke from that coma. An emergency C-section had to be performed to deliver you. Two days later, all of her brain activity ceased. She died four days later." During this account, Mom, or whoever this woman was, had become increasingly distraught. She was completely overcome with emotion at this point. Grandma was holding her for comfort and support. "Mom, who are you?" I cried. Grandma held out her arms for me to come to her. As she held me tight she placed her finger over my lips and said, "Shush. Please be patient, Honey. You will understand in a few minutes." "The autopsy report, on your mother, showed abnormally high levels of heavy metals in her brain," Grandma picked up the story. "They eventually traced the source to one of your mother's medicine bottles. There were actually two bottles of the same prescription. One was down stairs in the kitchen and one upstairs in the bathroom. Depending on where she took her medicine would determine how she would react that day. The manufacturer admitted during the lawsuit that they had discovered an employee who had been stealing drugs and selling them. They didn't realize that he had also been replacing the stolen drugs with other substances to hide his theft. Certain drugs were not the required strength or as in your mothers case was even laced with heavy metals and other substances." "Michelle," my Mother started, "You ask who I am? I was your Father. At least, biologically I am. However, I've breast feed you and virtually everything else any other mother has done for her daughter. So what am I?" pleaded my Mother. I moved from Grandma to my Mother. "I can't think of you in any other terms than Mom," I cried. "How? I'm so confused." At this point we all broke down in tears for a long time. How long was it? I've never known, for sure. After the waterworks stopped, Mom continued. "In our marriage, your mother enjoyed dressing me up in her clothes. I was never what you would call a large man. I enjoyed the dress-up games and we had wonderful sex afterwards. No one knows for sure when she started feeding me female hormones. My breasts had started to become sensitive for the last few months prior to the attack. I just thought it was your mother's constant sucking and playing with them during sex. I had started to become a little concerned but hadn't yet seen a doctor about them. My violent reaction in the emergency room when they were bumped caused the doctors to examine them. The physical exam of my breasts showed swelling and the signs of breast tissue growth. My blood test showed an abnormally high level of estrogen. When asked, I denied taking any hormones. When your mother was admitted and it was realized that she would not be able to answer any questions, they requested that a search of our house be made for the source. They eventually discovered that the orange juice in the refrigerator had estrogen in it. This was the juice that I drank several times a day while at home. A prescription for estrogen was also found in your mom's name." "I was under pain medication for the first couple of days I was in the hospital," Mom said sadly. "I didn't know until the next day that you had been born. Your Grandma had been alternating watching over your mother and me. When I woke up she explained to me what they had discovered so far and that you had been born after an emergency C- section. They were not sure that your mother would live. If they waited too long, your mother may not be strong enough to survive the delivery. Just as important, your heath would also be threatened by her deteriorating condition. Due to the premature delivery, you were to stay at the hospital for at least a couple weeks for observation and treatment for jaundice. Jaundice in infants occurs more frequently than many people believe. Treatment by ultraviolet light is the remedy." "An endocrinologist visited me soon after the pain medication was reduced and I had become more coherent," Mom related. "Checking on the state of my previous development she tried to determine the course of my treatment. During the examination, we discussed what had happened. It was the first time that I really had a chance to comprehend what had truly occurred. I broke down in tears with the enormity of the events. I was embarrassed by my breakdown. She assured me that, with the amount of estrogen in my system, anyone would have done the same. Even without the hormones, such a reaction was normal. After calming down, we discussed many things. I told her of my concern for my new daughter. We had planned to breast feed her, I told the Doctor. She surprised me when she answered that anyone could breast feed. All that it required was the proper combination of hormones. I smiled and thought nothing of it. Praying for the recovery of my wife." "That same day a Plastic Surgeon and an Urologist stopped in to discuss the necessity of some repair work on my damaged groin," Mom went on. "With Grandma in attendance for support, we discussed my options. There were very few. There was very little skin left in the area and the urethra was barely long enough to reattach to anything. A smooth groin area left little room to attach the urethra and presented other problems. By forming a faux vulva, it recessed the area and allowed room to reattach the urethra to the surrounding skin. It didn't seem important to me at the time and Grandma agreed that it was the best of few options. A couple days later, I had the surgery required. In the recovery room, I remember seeing your Grandma with red-rimmed eyes. After I was returned to my room, she told me that your mother had died while I was in surgery." After a consoling hug, between my Mom and Grandma, she continued. "The police had started an investigation based on the attack on me. When your mother's autopsy findings showed the abnormal levels of chemicals and metals, they shifted their investigation to the pharmacy and the maker of the drugs, Hanson Pharmaceuticals. The manufacturer readily cooperated and explained about the firing of the employee. They were shocked when told of the analysis of the prescription and the apparent substitution of ingredients. They stopped production and inventoried their supplies and verified that all ingredients were either factory sealed or were actually what was indicated. After performing tests on the Quality Assurance samples on hand they recalled all lots that had even a hint of deviation on the required quality. The former employee is now in jail and may never be released due to the consecutive sentences he received." "During my recovery, I was allowed to see and hold you," Mom smiled in reminiscence. "You were even brought to my room once. After a long discussion of the pros and cons with your Grandma, I decided that I would try to breast feed you myself, if the endocrinologist agreed. The following day, I started on the hormones necessary to produce milk. I was advised beforehand that the course I was taking would only be partially reversible by surgery. After providing all the caveats of treatment, she then commended me for my devotion to you. By the time that you were ready to go home, I was producing milk. At first, it was very painful with my budding breasts. Seeing you, in my arms taking nourishment from my body, made it all worth while." "The pharmaceutical company paid all medical bills and funeral expenses while negotiating for a settlement out of court," Mom went on. "After a couple weeks your mother's body was released for burial. The Medical Examiner had wanted to ensure that all his ducks were in a row before they proceeded with the criminal prosecution. He was proud of his reputation for accurate and reliable findings." "We were both released from the hospital the same day," she continued. "They did insist that you be brought in for exams monthly for the first 6 months. They had received the reports of the abnormal results from your mother and were very concerned about the possibility of future heath risks for you. Grandma invited us to move in with her and our house was put on the market. Many good memories in the house though it was no longer an inviting home. With the continuing development of my body and the need to breast feed you, I determined to remain at home and just care for you." "When you were about three months old, I had become stir crazy from sitting around the house," Mom smiled, with a far away look in her eyes. "I was driving your Grandma to distraction. She prevailed upon me to get out of the house. By this time I was wearing nursing bras and cotton panties all the time, simply because it was more comfortable that way. My breasts needed the support and the panties fit my expanding rear and smooth crotch better. For around the house I wore a shift and slippers. When I tried on my pants and shirt, the pants were too tight in the butt. The shirt displayed my breasts so prominently that there was no way I could go out without causing a scene. Grandma found me prone on the bed, in tears. I had looked forward so much to going out that I was devastated. Grandma held me until I calmed down and then asked me if I trusted her. With my nod yes, she said she had an idea but that I had to trust her and go along for the moment." "How could I not trust her?" Mom asked rhetorically. "You two were my life, now. She took some measurements and said she would be back in about an hour. When she returned she had several bags and boxes. Telling me to shave closely and wash my hair. After I was finished with the shower I shaved the approximately 28 hairs on my chin. A little bit more than that, but not by much. I never could grow facial hair and blonde is even harder to see. I put on a clean bra and panty set and then put on the black slacks and white blouse that had been placed on my bed. At least they fit I thought. I sat and put on a pair of knee high stockings and some penny loafer style shoes. Grandma came in and brushed out my hair. I had always hated short hair, but in the preceding months had let it grow until it almost touched my shoulders. She brushed it out and trimmed it a little. Then she put it in a high ponytail. She plucked a few hairs from my eyebrows. I was a little hesitant when she wanted to add a little eyeliner with some pale pink lipstick. Shushing my arguments she proceeded with my light makeup. Standing before the mirror I was amazed. I wasn't a knockout. Nor was my figure to die for. In fact, I was kind of plain. What I didn't see was a man." "After that it wasn't hard to convince me to go for a long ride and get some fresh air," Mom related. "With the provision that I didn't have to get out of the car unless I was comfortable. We were to avoid large crowds of people. With that agreed upon, we put you in your car seat, assembled the standard baby needs, and left. We stopped at a roadside caf? for a late lunch. While we were waiting for our food a tour bus arrived with about fifty women crowding the diner. As luck would have it that was when you decided you were hungry and demanded to be feed... immediately." I moved to her side and said, "I'm sorry Momma." Holding me tightly she went on, "I realized that we hadn't even considered bringing along a bottle." The only thing I could do was feed you right there." A lady near our table saw my embarrassment. Coming over to the table, she said, 'you should never feel embarrassed providing nourishment to your child. It is as natural to do, as it is to breathe. So many young women have opted for the easy way out with a bottle. You will have a much closer relationship with your daughter for your choice." "By the time I had fed you and finished my lunch, most of the women were finished also," Mom went on. "Many of them crowded around... all wanting to see and hold the beautiful baby girl. Despite my fear of discovery, their attention and praise for you warmed my heart and eased my fears. I suspect at least one of them wanted to take you home with them. As nerve wracking as it was, I was soon more comfortable chatting with these women. It had been a wonderful day. The pleasure of returning home, to what I had been thinking of as a prison, was no less than wonderful." "As I ventured out more and more, my wardrobe expanded accordingly," Mom recalled. "By the time I stopped breast feeding, I had attained a full C cup and a nice figure also. By that time, the lawsuit was settled. Besides full medical coverage, there was a large cash settlement. More than enough to cover our future needs. You also have the choice of two scholarship programs. Breining Engineering offers a scholarship to a College or University of your choice if you enter any Field of Engineering. The amount of the fund increases if you choose a field compatible with Breining. If you maintain a B grade or better, they will offer you a position with them after you graduate. Hanson Pharmaceuticals basically offers the same thing only if it relates to their Industry. This is not an either or scholarship. There is a narrow field that overlaps both areas. If you chose that area then, you could apply for both scholarships. Although you still have a few years before you need to decide upon a career path, it wouldn't hurt to keep that in mind. Even without those scholarships, we have enough money for you to have your choice of Universities or Colleges. The only problem would be if your grades are too low for admission." "When you were almost four, I had some cosmetic surgery to refine my appearance as a woman," Mom informed me. "Does that answer your question, Honey?" "Mom, I love you," I responded, as I hugged her tightly. "It answers the most troubling question, but leaves a few unanswered. Since you are telling me all, can I ask a few more questions?" "It was a relief to be able to tell you this after all these years," Mom said. "I've been dreading this moment for years. As is often the case the fear is worse than the event. Of course you may ask. What else is bothering you, dear?" "What worried you so much when I went to the doctor and took those tests last year and the year before?" I asked. "Is there something abnormal about me from these drugs my real mom took?" "We're not sure of the cause," started Mom. "The test you took revealed that you had one ovary that was only about half the normal size. You had not started puberty yet. Now a late puberty is not that uncommon, but your medical history caused some concern. Last year it was decided to help nature along by starting you on estrogen. The hope is that it will start your system producing it on its own. We were also concerned that you were getting too wild and one of the effects of hormones is to curb that kind of action. After all you are a 'Young Lady' not a boy, despite the way you act." "Mom," I said in exasperation. "I've always known that I was a girl. Well Duh. Anyway, how could I not know that?" "Well you certainly haven't acted that way," Mom retorted. "You've refused to wear dresses and tried to be more boy than the boys." "How many times must I tell you?" I asked. "The only kids my age within three miles are all boys and few of those. The only way I could play with them was to act like them. Eventually, I became their leader. To maintain that position, I had to be better at everything. Including getting into trouble, I guess. When we got together, it became a competition. I'm sorry Mom; it did get way out of hand. As for the dresses, there are two reasons. I couldn't be a boy's boy in a dress. You would have skinned me alive if I came home with one in rags. After all, clothes for boys are more rugged. Mom, the most important reason though is that you have really lousy taste in girl's clothing. Every dress you ever picked out would look good on a preschooler. Even now, it's the same. Do you remember all the fights I used to get into at school? Every one of those was because of the taunts and teasing from the other girls. They were so cruel to me. I could never make friends with them after that. That left me with only the boys as friends. As I said, I had to be a better boy than they were to fit in." "Now that your Grandma is here we can get down to the basics of being a girl," Mom sighed. "I've always had problems myself with that. Grandma has helped me; hopefully she can do the same for you." "Mom?" I asked, "Can I please stop ballet?" "Why, Dear?" responded Mom. "Don't you like it?" "Not so much that, but that stuck up, bit... Umm Lynda Snyder is in that class," I almost slipped there. "If I have to take a class, can I take aerobics? It looks like fun and I can get more exercise." "If you want, dear," Mom replied. "I know you don't like her but that is no excuse to be nasty. If she is like you describe, she will be her own worst enemy. Now, dear, it is time to get cleaned up for dinner. I think we will go out tonight. Dress nicely. I think a dinner at Dunstan's Steak House is in order for the night. No time like the present to start. Starting right now, you are a 'Lady-In-Training'."