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Keeping the Books. PL and JL read my previous stories and made some helpful comments. They did have a complaint and that was that my protagonists were generally weak characters. JL also said that I did not spend enough time discussing the clothes. OK PL and JL, this one is for you. Introduction: When Uncle Peter's secretary called to tell me that he wanted to see me after work I was not surprised. I had an interesting history with Uncle Peter. After I had moved east to work at his company I had had one dinner with that branch of the family and then there was no contact for quite a while. When I heard he was to be a panel member for a discussion of corporate responsibility at a local library I decided to see the show. After the discussion the floor was opened for questions and I politely challenged his assertion that an unfettered corporate economy with low business taxes was good for the nation. I pointed out that without proper support of the health and education systems the workers of the future would be less well prepared and less productive. To my surprise my uncle did not duck the issue and though I did not agree with his answer I was impressed by his honest response and lack of weasel words. After the discussion I came up and said hi and reminded him that I was his nephew and worked for his company Teneris Industries. His eyes opened wide and then he chuckled. "You're a ballsy son-of-a- bitch, Jeremy." "Well, I like to speak my mind," I replied. "OK Jerry, I tell you what. We'll have dinner sometime, but you'll have to take the side of corporate greed and I'll argue for social responsibility." Over the next three years Uncle Peter and I would occasionally have a lunch or dinner or drinks, choose a subject, pick sides and enjoy an argument. During that time I advanced to a "team leader" position in my company and became known as the wizard of the expense accounts. So I assumed that my uncle either had a question about bookkeeping or wanted to test an argument on me before making a speech somewhere. I was surprised therefore to see that my aunt was in the office when I arrived at about 5:30. I had met her, an elegant woman in her mid- fifties, at the one dinner I had had with the family but beyond that had had no contact. The two sides of the family weren't so much estranged as just ignoring each other. My mother talked with Uncle Peter once or twice a year and of course everybody sent Christmas cards but only when I moved from Iowa to New York was there any actual proximity. We made small talk for a little while and then Peter and Annette Martin laid out the reason for asking their long-neglected nephew to sit down and talk. The Martins had a house, an estate really, in Southern Westchester County. It was five acres, two houses, a pool, a tennis court and the rest of the trimmings of corporate excess. It also had Mr. Martin's divorced younger sister and his aunt, as well as occasional visits from his college aged daughter and other assorted relatives from both sides of the family. Together with two household staff it was a lot to manage and, because Mr. Martin gave his sister and aunt allowances, he was dealing with five checking accounts. My aunt was trying to devote more time to her real estate and insurance business and was being overwhelmed with correspondence and charity requests. When they finished laying out the scenario my uncle looked at me and smiled. "Jerry, will you come and work for us; get the books in order, keep an eye on the budgets; deal with the requests from charities and generally act as our authority over the household?" I was stunned. First I commented on how I was advancing in the Teneris Industries Finance Department, that I was taking occasional courses working towards a graduate degree in something, and how I liked the people I worked with. They brushed aside my concerns with promises of salary, benefits and time to study, so finally I laid out one last issue. "Mr. Martins, I mean Uncle Peter, there is one more thing. I was going to talk with Personnel about it in a few weeks. There is something that is coming up." After I dropped my bombshell, I answered some questions and we talked further. Aunt Annette straightened up and took a deep breath. "I think we are discussing appearances. I suggest we all, and I mean all, have dinner together so that Peter and I can see if it will work out. Do you know Fockele's in Mid-town? Let's set a date and time." Chapter 1: Introducing Carol The Martins and I set a date for Wednesday about a week away and I left with my head swirling. Teneris Industries was a solid group of companies and I could see a safe, if somewhat boring future with them. At the same time here was a chance to see a different world and possibly have some more time to pursue a graduate degree. I decided to take them up on their offer if they could agree to Carol being a part of the deal. I asked my supervisor for Wednesday afternoon off, and called my friend Chuck to see if I could stay Wednesday night at his apartment in Manhattan. I lived in Hoboken because I could rent a one bedroom apartment with parking space for what might get me a hole-in-the-wall studio in Manhattan. Chuck had been a year behind me in college and was finishing law school. His parents had money so he was able to rent a decent apartment near Columbia University. I stopped before work on Wednesday and dropped off a garment bag. Chuck lifted his head from some law texts, grunted a welcome and I waved and went off to work. The morning seemed to take forever and when 1:00 rolled around I couldn't wait to get back to Chuck's place. He would be at class until about five so he'd be back in time to be introduced to Carol before it I had to leave for dinner. I arrived at the apartment about 2:00. I quickly undressed and when into Chuck's bathroom. Chuck was a classic bachelor and the bathroom was a mess, but I found places to hang a robe and lay out toiletries. I carefully shaved my face and then stepped back to look at myself in the mirror before changing. I had been cross dressing on and off since junior high-school. I started with my mother's clothes and bit by bit created a wardrobe of thrown out and stolen items. Like most cross-dressers I would occasionally feel repulsed by what I was doing and throw away my clothing, but in time I had settled down. When I moved to New Jersey I started living more and more as a woman and after working with a therapist came to the conclusion that I really was transgender. I planned on beginning the real life test and was preparing to talk with personnel when the Martins sprang their surprise. Looking in the mirror I was sort of pleased with what I saw. Fourteen months of hormone therapy had given me the beginnings of a bosom. I was almost an A-cup, and with a padded or push up bra could wear clothes that hinted at cleavage. My facial and body hair had pretty much yielded to a mixture of hormones, electrolysis and laser treatment though I still shaved two or three times a week. Exercise had kept me lean though with my bone structure I would never be anything other that stocky. At least I had large hips for a man which made finding women's clothes easier. The face was the real issue. I wasn't ugly but no one would ever call me beautiful. I have prominent brows, a heavy jaw and a slightly flat nose. Early on I decided I would not have plastic surgery so I was dependent on makeup and a big smile to see me through. At least I didn't have an obvious Adams apple. All-in-all though I was presentable, and it was pretty rare now that someone would realize that I wasn't a "real" woman. I turned on the shower and undid the cord that tied back my hair in a man's pony-tail. I let the hot water rush over me and then shaved the stubble in my armpits. My legs were still smooth so I just washed up, ending with a scented body-wash. Stepping out I dried off and powdered my genitalia liberally. Looking down at myself I wondered about the changes I had undertaken. My penis, never very large, seemed a little smaller, and my erections were less frequent and not as hard. Still at night it felt nice to stroke myself and fantasize about lovers. I had been celibate for almost two years and I wasn't sure what I wanted in bed, but my dreams were pleasant and that had to be enough. I went back to the sink and brushed my hair. I promised myself a wonderful session at a stylists when I began living full time as Carol, but for now contented myself with brushing my hair (medium brown and very thick) so it flowed over my brow and fell almost to my shoulders. I'd do my make-up later. I had taken to wearing very tight t-shirts and loose dress shirts at work, so it was nice to just sit on Chuck's sofa for a while in a loose robe and relax. I had spent a lot of time the night before trying to choose an outfit. Ms. Martins explained the Fokele's was a classy restaurant and most people would dress up though no one wore formal clothes there unless they were on the way to a show. I only had a few outfits to choose from but it seemed to take all night to reach a decision. I looked at the clock and realized that Chuck would be back in about an hour. He knew about my cross-dressing but had never met Carol and I did not want him to walk in when I was still in my underwear so I decided to get dressed and not shock him too much. I hung my garment bag on the closet door and pulled out a stuff sack with my lingerie. I knew the Martins wouldn't see what I was wearing beneath my clothes by I wanted to feel pretty. First I stepped into a pair of tight panties and tucked myself between my legs. With the rest of the outfit I didn't need a gaff which was a relief because that is not a comfortable garment. My panties were pale pink with a satin front and lace sides. As always when I put on the first garment when "changing over" I shivered and felt a change of mood. Now I knew when I looked in the mirror a woman would be looking back at me. It occurred to me that there was no full-length mirror in the apartment but that just meant I would not waste time just staring at myself. My brassiere followed. I had to be careful with brassieres because I could easily look either too flat or too "perky". After some shopping I found some push-up bras by DKNY that worked well for me. For a few of my garments I used padded bras, but tonight I would not need that. The bra was oyster shell pink, under wired and made my breasts stand out without making them look artificial. The band caressed my ribs and I could feel the cups pressing on my nipples. Almost as if to compensate for some loss of erectile function my nipples had become very sensitive over the past year and the satin cups made me shiver again. I pulled on a pair of tan panty hose and then a black slip and then went back to the bag to get my skirt. I almost brought a red dress I liked, but I decided to play it more conservative. My skirt was calf length black wool knit with four pleats and draped nicely on my hips while hiding any bulge the panties might not control. Over my head I pulled a black sweater with uneven white stripes that "assisted" my small bust. The sleeves were a bit long and loose so my hands seemed smaller than they were. I knew what I looked like, though I wish I could have used a big mirror to check on myself. I applied a bit of light blusher to bring out my cheek bones and slightly darker foundation to de-emphasize my nose. I used some eye shadow and a reddish brown lipstick and I was content with how I would look when Chuck came in. It would have been nice to use nail polish, but I figured Chuck might not like the smell of acetone in his place so I contented myself with buffing my nails. They were filed to a slightly rounded edge and looked OK if not great. Facing the bathroom mirror again I slipped simple silver hoops into my pierced ears. I put on a silver chain with an agate wrapped in silver wire as the pendant and slipped on a wooden bead bracelet to cover the lighter skin where my watch normally sat. I pulled on a pair of ankle boots with one inch heels and pointed toes that I think looked smaller than a woman's 10 ? and then I could wait for Chuck's reaction. When I heard the lock turning in the door I stood up and faced the door with a smile. Chuck came in looked at me and his jaw dropped. For a few seconds he was speechless which for him had to be a record. "Hi Chuck" I said quietly. My voice was still an issue despite months of practice. "I'll take the open mouth as a sign that you are surprised." Chuck came in shutting the door behind him and tossed a book bag on the sofa. Still without saying a word he looked me up and down and then circled around me once. "Jerry?" He paused; "Stupid comment I guess. I am amazed. I was wondering what kind of travesty I would see when I got back. You look real good." "A travesty?" "Yeah. You know I see a lot of cross dressers on the street. C'mon this is New York. You don't look like them. You look real. I wouldn't know you were Jerry." I smiled and let my breath out. "Thanks Chuck. I have to look good tonight. I really can't step back now." We talked for a while and the fact that our discussion was mostly about law school and mutual friends made me realize that Chuck was still uncomfortable. I had to break through. "Chuck if you have any questions now is the time to ask them." "OK Jerry, here's a list; why are you doing this, do you still have balls, why are you doing this, are you going to live like this full time, why again, are you gay and finally, why?" In the ensuing hour we covered a lot of ground but I think I got through when Chuck looked down and told me something I didn't know. "I don't speak a lot to my parents you know. Oh they pay for law school and the apartment but it's not a comfortable situation. You see Jerry; I come from a strict Catholic family and after college I decided I just could not go to the Catholic Church any more. I couldn't justify what I believed with what the Church taught. I'm still a believing Christian but I have to pursue the Christian I am. In a way I don't think you're that much different. You have to pursue the person you are." "Chuck you're a real friend. But from now on my name is Carol." I replied. "Wish me luck; it's time for me to go. Chapter 2: Dinner With The Martins. I grabbed my coat and my handbag and headed out the door. To this day I still can't find a handbag I like. They're either too big or too small. Tonight's was a midsized black bag, too large to be an evening bag and not large enough to carry everything I wanted but it fit the outfit. My coat was a nice hip length leather item I picked up on sale. I didn't need it for a night in July but it went well with the outfit. I let the coat hang open and the tucked the loose ends of the belt into the pockets. It took a while to find a cab but I left myself a lot of time to get to midtown and sure enough we got stuck in traffic before we reached 70th street. I sat back watching the city life and my mind went back to being stuck in traffic about a year and a half earlier. It was April and I had just started to make cautious expeditions outside dressed as Carol. My therapist, Dr. Phillips, had insisted that I if I was going to start hormone therapy and consider living as a woman I could not hide behind the curtains any longer. At that point I had confided only in my parents and a friend in Jersey City named Jan. Jan and I met in summer camp. I was the boys' tennis champion; she was the girls' best swimmer. We both loved punk music and what had been a summer, pre-teen, romance developed into a friendship that lasted through college. When I mentioned to Jan how scared I was to really go out in public she invited me to dinner in Princeton and I accepted. Until then the most I had done was sneak out at night and drive around dressed in a skirt. I felt very brave of course and kept wondering if anyone would notice the makeup or the B-cup breast forms. Looking back it was silly, driving in the dark and pretending to be actually going out in public but it was a start. On the night in question I pulled on a gaff and a pair of blue jeans with embroidery on the hip pockets, a striped pink, blue and white knit blouse. I was wearing the b-cup breast forms and an aggressive brassiere. All in all I was dressed the way a new-to-the-art cross dresser would, and a blind man could tell I wasn't a woman at thirty paces. I got into my old Ford Escort and pulled off to make my way to Princeton. The traffic was horrible and using my cell phone I called Jan to say I was running late. The worst part was sitting there and thinking about all the ways this evening could end in disaster. Someone would attack me, Jan would be disgusted and I'd kill the friendship, I would be in an accident and get hauled to the hospital dressed up. The fantasies just kept piling one on top of another getting worse and worse. Actually the evening was not that bad. Yes I could see that people were figuring me out and Jan thought everything except my shoes was poorly chosen but we did have fun and I broke out of my shell. Now I was in a stuck in traffic again and though pretty sure about myself as Carol, this dinner meant a lot to me and the negative fantasies welled up again. When the cab pulled up to Fokele's I felt as though I had been holding my breath and after paying the fare I stood on the sidewalk for a moment to calm down. I did not have a watch on so I pulled my PDA out of my bag to check the time. As I was looking at it I heard Uncle Peter's voice behind me. "I don't know about this Annette. I see your point that if Jerry is respectable looking, his skills are exactly what we need and we want to keep this in the family, but how can he do it? I'm not saying he's ugly, but there is a touch of Neanderthal in his face." I began to walk away so I did not hear what Aunt Annette said in reply. "Neanderthal", that bastard; I was fuming and then I stopped and thought about it. Yes I have heavy bones below my brows, a broad nose and a strong chin. But what did it matter as long as people did not think I was male. I waited a bit to make sure they had gone into the restaurant and then turned around and walked back. Fokele's is a classy place. As soon as I was in the door I was greeted and my coat taken. I gave the Martin's name and was escorted to their table where Uncle Peter stood up politely and then just stopped and stared. As he stared the waiter held my chair for me and I sat down and turned to my aunt. "Hi. Thanks for inviting me. My name is Carol Baker." My aunt looked up. "Sit down Peter and introduce me properly." Mr. Martin seemed frozen for a moment and then plunked down in his chair. "Jerry?" he whispered. "No Uncle Paul, Carol." "My goodness" he smiled and shook his head. "Annette, this is Carol Baker. She works for Teneris Incorporated in the Finance Department. Carol this is?" He stopped and thought for a moment. "I'm just not sure, should we be going the Aunt and Uncle route or just first names? I came to my uncle's rescue. "I don't think I'd be comfortable calling you just Peter." There was an awkward silence broken by the waiter asking if we wanted to start with drinks and by the time we had given our orders we could talk again. Aunt Annette leaned over. "I love your necklace. It goes so nicely with that sweater. It looks like something from a craft show, is it?" "Oh I was in Cape May on an Audubon Society bird watching weekend, and there was a lovely craft store there. It was rainy one afternoon so I spent some time shopping and found this." Poor Uncle Peter, he heard me say "bird watching" and rolled his eyes. Aunt Annette on the other hand leaned forward. "Cape May, when? What did you see?" And we were off. We had a great dinner and Aunt Annette and I quickly discovered a number of shared interests. She was a member of the Westchester Audubon Society and dragged Uncle Peter all over on bird watching trips ("he gets to bring his golf clubs"). Finally, just before we ordered desert, Uncle Peter thumped on the table to interrupt his wife telling me about Costa Rica. "OK then, Annette. I think we've decided that Jerr.. I mean Carol will work out?" "Oh Peter, of course; I realized that while she was sitting down to dinner." Uncle Peter shrugged and got up to go to the men's' room and Annette leaned over. "Peter's very uncertain about this. Your choice of clothing was a big help. By the way, the bracelet you're wearing really doesn't go with that outfit. You should wear that with earth tones. I think you can call me Annette not Aunt Annette. Play this very carefully; I wouldn't emphasize femininity for a while. Let Peter become more acquainted with the idea." I thanked her. We sat and waited for dessert to be delivered and when Uncle Peter returned Annette announced she was going to the ladies' room and that I should come along. The look on my uncle's face was priceless and I just looked at him and shrugged my shoulders. Then I picked up my bag and marched off after his wife. We stood together in front of the mirrors. I was happy no one else had been in there and that Annette had not wanted to talk while we were sitting in the stalls. I took out my lipstick to freshen up a bit and Annette combed her hair. "You need to do something about your hair Carol. A short cut would do better for you I think. Are you trying to grow out your hair?" I explained some of the difficulties I encountered being both Jerry and Carol and how I planned to give myself a present of a day at a spa including hair and nails. We talked a bit about hair coloring and highlights and then went back to the table where coffee and desert was waiting. I pulled my PDA out of my bag and looked at the two of them. "I guess we do need to talk business; schedules, when I will leave Teneris, employment contracts, when I should move in and stuff like that. Can I come up and see the apartment, oh yes, what accounting software are you using?" For the first time that evening Uncle Peter relaxed. "Good" he said, "Conversation that is not about birds or shopping. Let me pull out my calendar and we can get started." Chapter 3. Preparing to Go: Stage One. The next four and a half weeks were madness. First the Martin's sent me an employment contract. Then my lawyer objected to some wording about how the value of not paying rent would be reported. Then I had to give two weeks notice to Teneris. I also had to arrange for a moving van and some friends to help me move. I chose furniture to take and things to give away. I attended a goodbye party at work that moved me to tears. It seemed as though I needed 25 hours a day and eight days a week. Thank God for friends such as Jan and Chuck who helped me pack, cart and store. I did manage to do a few things for myself and one was to get my hair done. As soon as I announced my last day at work I went over to a day spa I had heard about. It was a beautiful weekend day so instead of my clunky Ford I rode my scooter. Scooters are a passion of mine. This was my second scooter. I first had a little 90cc job but now I rode a Suzuki Burgman 400 that could cruise on the interstate. In jeans, boots and a heavy dungaree jacket I would have looked tough if it weren't for the light blue helmet with a cat stencil on the back. I took the long way to the spa and enjoyed the rural roads unburdened by rush hour traffic. Green Creek Spa was just a large grey building in a suburb of Hoboken but I walked into it as if there were dragons guarding the doors. I walked up to the receptionist and explained I wanted to make an appointment for a massage, hairstyling and manicure in two weeks time. She seemed to have no problem with that so I drew in a breath and explained that there was just one more thing and told her I was transgender. Much to my surprise she just smiled as if she already knew. "Oh, we have a number of special customers dear; don't worry everybody's friendly here. So we'll see you at 2:00 then, Right?" I smiled back and went back out to my scooter to enjoy a few hours of shopping, scooting and a celebratory coffee at the local coffee house. I cannot remember how long I had been dreaming of this day. Freedom seemed to stream from the skies and I started counting hours until I walked out of Teneris a free man. No make that, until I walked out of Teneris a free woman. Shopping was another thing I did for myself. Now that I was going to live full time as Carol I needed clothes, lots of clothes. For two weeks almost every evening I changed out of my suit into a nice but casual outfit and hit the malls. By the time I was done I had spent almost $2,500 dollars but I was pretty well set until spring. I did not have a lot of different outfits but I had enough to get me through. I even splurged on some fancy lingerie that no one but me would ever see. I had lived frugally for many years, so money while not flowing was not a problem. I left Teneris on a Wednesday afternoon. I cut out early after the goodbyes carrying a small box of personal items. Normally I took the train into the city but that day I drove the car and spent the money on parking. After I put the box in the car I walked the streets of lower Manhattan. I felt as if I weighed fifty pounds less and the dirty streets of the city had a special charm. After a while I drove back to New Jersey and carried the box upstairs to my apartment. I took off my suit and other men's clothing, stood naked on the carpet and putting my arms out slowly turned in circles feeling the air on my body. My apartment was a mess of boxes and piles of clothing and books to be given away but right then it was a paradise. My suit, tie and shirt went on the "give away" pile, my briefs and t-shirt into a garbage bag. I saved a few men's items just in case I needed them and they were stuffed in a small duffle bag. Now, however, there was nothing in my closet or in my dresser drawers except for women's clothing. I put on a blue kimono robe and opening the blinds looked out at the street below. Tomorrow I would drop the clothes off at the Salvation Army and the books at the library. I looked at the calendar on my wall; August 18th. I decided that if possible from now on August 18th would be a holiday for me. Maybe I'd even give it a name. For now it was simply called freedom. I had a lot to do that afternoon so it was casual time as I just slipped on a bra, panties, t-shirt and a running suit and spent the rest of the day putting things in boxes, taking stuff to the dumpster and preparing for the move. The next day was a trip to the spa and on Friday I would drive to the Martin's and look over the apartment. They had described it in detail and even sent me a couple of digital photos but a visit was called for. I rarely dream but that night I dreamt I was back in the office. Everything seemed normal except that I was wearing a woman's business suit and I could see that my nails were polished. People walking by smiled and did not seem in any way amazed. The odd thing was they still called me Jeremy but I did not mind. I woke in the middle of the night and sat up in bed thinking about the dream. Dr. Phillips would certainly ask me what it meant, but I was content that it was a nice dream and not some nightmare about being laughed at or attacked. Normally my alarm was set for 6:00 but now I was a free woman and I woke up with no alarm a bit after 7:00. First I jumped up thinking I would be late to work and then laughed and realized I had to reset my brain as well as my bedside clock. I lay in bed for a bit staring up at the ceiling and wondering if I had made the right choice. Then recognizing I was starting a cycle of "what ifs" got out of bed and started the morning. My morning routine rarely varies and I spent a half an hour stretching, doing pushups, crunches and other exercises to keep me trim. Then I showered and had a light breakfast while I read the Star Ledger. By the time I was done it was almost 8:30 and in the past I would be walking into the office. It felt good to pour another cup of coffee, flick the hair out of my face and lean back in the kitchen chair. Dressing was easy because the morning would be spent dropping off books, used clothing and other chores, so blue jeans and a sweat shirt were adequate. It was when I got back to my place and had a quick lunch that I mentally froze while trying to decide what to wear. I never had been to a spa and had no idea if I should show up in loose stuff, dress stylishly or what. Finally I chose the middle ground and wore nice slacks, a white blouse with a bit of lace on the collar, a dark blue and green scarf, low heels and a blazer. Since I was getting my hair done I chose not to ride the scooter, which required a helmet, and fired up the old Ford. As usual it coughed and stuttered before coming to life and I considered that it might be time to replace it. I loved being on two wheels but a car was just a machine that got me from place to place. I parked at Green Creek Spa and my stomach turned over. Two women walked out of the building to go to their cars and I almost pulled out of the lot and went home. Then I thought of something I said to Dr Phillips a couple of months earlier. "You know, Carol is a really tough person. She makes decisions; she takes risks and accepts the consequences. I like being Carol not just because I'm a woman. I like being Carol because I feel good about what I do." Well it was Carol sitting in the car that afternoon and it was Carol who grabbed her bag, stepped out, locked the door and walked in for her two o'clock appointment. The receptionist looked up at me and smiled. I gave her my name and she opened the book and then said softly "Oh, Ms. Baker. Jean will be taking you today. I explained to her that you're a .. you're a special customer. Please have a seat and Jean will be out in a minute." I settled down in the waiting area and looked around. The walls were dusty pink and a small fountain bubbled in the corner. Another woman was sitting across from me chatting on her cell phone. She was dressed in a running suit and thumbing through a pocket calendar. I was looking through the magazines on the coffee table when I heard some one calling "Ms. Baker. Ms. Baker?". It took a moment for me to register and then I looked up to see a petite woman in her thirties dressed in a light blue smock. She wore a tag that said "Jean" and was smiling at me. I stood up and walked over. "If you'll come this way Ms. Baker; Is this your first time at Green Creek Spa?" I waited until the door closed behind us and then admitted this was the first time I had ever been at any spa. Jean smiled and told me to treat this as a present to myself and try and relax. She then guided me to a small room barely larger than a closet and told me to strip to my panties (I was wearing a pink and white gaff) and to put on the robe that hung on the wall. There were shelves and hangers for my clothing and the door locked. So I followed her orders and when done locked the door and slipped the elastic the key was tied to around my wrist. Jean was waiting for me and as we walked down the hall talked about what would occur over the next few hours. Then she stopped and looked at me. "You really do look alright you know. I don't think I would have known if I weren't looking. Your hair's all wrong for you but we can take care of that. I don't think anybody here will find you out. So, please, take a deep breath, un-hunch your shoulders and have some fun." I giggled nervously and tried to relax. "What's first on the agenda?" "First" Jean said "Is I give you a massage, and then I cover you with a large towel and let you relax on the table for a while. So why don't we get started, this is my room." The room was dimly lit and soft jazz was coming from a radio on a side table. A tall, narrow table with a strange pillow was in the middle of the room. A chair, a desk and a bookshelf with all sort of new-age titles finished the furnishings. Jean made a couple of notes at the desk and then said "OK, please take off your robe, there's a hook on the door, and lay face down on the table." It had been more than two years since anybody other than my physician had seen me undressed but Jean had her back to me so I took off the robe, hung it up and climbed onto the table. The pillow was U-shaped so my face lay on it without interfering with my breathing. The dim light and warmth of the room combined with the music was soothing but I still lay tensed up waiting for something the happen. "Is there any particular area you want me to work on or is this just a general massage?" "Uh, I guess just general". "OK, just relax." With that Jean put her hands on either side of my spine just above the shoulder blades and leaned in. For the next half an hour she pushed, pulled and rubbed on my back, my thighs, calves and arms. Part way though she asked me to turn over and I did, exposing my breasts. She pushed on my rib cage, and twisted my neck. Occasionally it was uncomfortable but I could feel myself getting looser and looser and I could feel tension flowing out of me. In the end Jean had me roll back over again and covered me with a large towel. "I'll leave you here for about ten minutes and then you're off to the salon." The ten minutes passed in a flash because I actually dozed a bit, and Jean woke me by slowly increasing the lighting and volume in the room. I opened my eyes and sat up as Jean offered me the robe. Then she held my arm as I got off the table which was a good thing as I felt a little woozy. "You'll want to keep your liquids up" said Jean, "There's a juice bar, no charge too, near the salon. So how'd you like the massage?" I just smiled at her and nodded. I knew that this was something I would be doing again. Jean pointed me toward the salon and I poured a glass of orange juice at the counter. I sat down in the salon and sniffed the air. There was a pungency that was not pleasant. It was a mixture of acetone, shampoo and many other odors I could not identify. After sitting for a while I began picking through the magazines and was just about to open a Redbook when a young woman in a white smock came over to me. "Hi are you Carol?" I looked up and nodded. "OK I'm Sue, I'll be doing your hair today. Why don't you come over so we can discuss what you want and then give you a shampoo?" I sat in a low backed chair and Sue looked over my shoulder as we stared at a mirror. For years I had been waiting for this moment and now I had no idea what I wanted. Sue waited a bit and then put her hands on my head and moved the hair away from my face. "Do you want my opinion?" "Yes please". "OK, here goes, you can't have your hair over your face. You have a square face so flowing hair won't work. I suggest short, moderately curly hair and some highlights. If we cut it about here [gesturing with a comb] and pull it back a little like this [more gesturing] I think it would look good on you." I pretended to think for a moment or two, and then said "OK, that's sounds nice." Sue flipped the chair around, put a cape over my shoulders that buttoned down the front and leaned me back so my head was over a sink and proceeded to shampoo me as though I had every type of vermin in my hair. When she was done I was almost surprised to see any hair left on my head. She then led me to another chair and proceeded with scissors and combs, brushes and picks to rearrange my head. In the end she decided that highlights wouldn't do and just used a blow dryer and a round brush to create some waves and body. I just sat there and wondered at the amount of work being done. When I used to go to a barber I'd make a few comments and twenty minutes later I'd get out of the chair. Here I sat for about 45 minutes and then Sue demanded that I spend another five minutes discussing how to care for my hair, and told me that I should come back about every three weeks. Finally Sue released me and I was led to a small table that looked like the ones at the hospital blood drawing station. Another woman sat there and introduced herself. She held up some color charts and we agreed on a dark red nail polish and I fought off suggestions that I get nail extensions. I had some bottles of polish at home but it was nice to have some one file my nails, use filler and then finally stroke on two red coats and put my hands to dry under a lamp. It was just after 4:30 when I stood up and went back to get my clothing. I dressed slowly and then stepping out of the cubicle looked at the large mirror in the hall. The Carol that stared back at me was very different. With the new hair cut my features seemed smoother. I also looked more professional. I liked what I saw. I went back and using cash tipped the staff and then went and paid the bill on my credit card. The card said "Jeremy Baker" but the receptionist didn't blink an eye, she just asked if I wanted to set up another appointment. I declined but agreed that it was a wonderful experience and then drove home to have a quiet dinner alone at the local diner. Chapter 4. Preparing to go, stage two . The business side of me had made sure that as soon as I knew I was planning to live as a woman I found a lawyer I could talk to. Mr. Carmichael, I could never bring myself to call him Sam, was just what I needed. He not only did the things I asked for but made sure to remind me of things I never thought of. One of them was a new driver's license. I thought that maybe I would wait until I moved to New York State but Mr. Carmichael said it would be easier to change the name in New Jersey and then just get a license in New York based on my New Jersey, Carol Baker, paperwork. The day after my spa session I brought a bunch of paperwork to the Department of Motor Vehicles and found, to my surprise that changing my license was easy. A clerk looked at my paperwork, took a photo and handed me a replacement license. I was in and out in under and hour. It took weeks however for new credit cards to catch up with me. Finally moving day arrived. Jan, Chuck and I had arranged to make the move on a Saturday. Jan's boyfriend owned a pickup truck that would carry the scooter and some boxes and I rented a van that Chuck would return to the rental place on Sunday. I made sure everything was packed and ready to go, brought in a supply of coffee and donuts and 8:30 Saturday morning we got to work. I met Jan's boyfriend Sid only once before and was not impressed by him. He seemed a skinny dweeb with little personality, but when it came to moving furniture he put Chuck and me to shame. Sid would grab a box of books or an easy chair and with no obvious effort lift them up and carry them down three flights of stairs. Chuck and I struggled to move my bed while Sid picked up the heavy book case. I later found out that he had been a wrestler with his university and coached the local wrestling club. Even with coffee breaks and fits of laughter, the apartment was emptied and swept clean by 10:00. I went down to the custodian's apartment and handed in my keys took a last look around and then climbed into my car to lead the caravan to Westchester. I am not sure what the neighbors in the Martin's posh suburb must have thought when we rolled through the streets. Sid's pickup truck was a tricked-out, bright purple, low-rider, the rental van looked like it had been used in a demolition derby and my old Ford was not a pretty site with its rust spots. Maybe they thought the circus had come to town. Whatever they thought just before 11:00 we were moving the furniture into my apartment while Emily, the Martin's cook and general around the house helper, watched. My new place had been repainted and with some curtains I brought up with me would be bright and welcoming. It was a two room apartment above the garage with a small bedroom and a decent sized living/dining room with a kitchen alcove. The closet space was good and it had an outside entrance with a small porch and stairs that went down the back of the garage. The amazing thing was the size of the bathroom which was recently remodeled with a big bathtub. After living with a miniature bathroom this was luxury. Emily helped for a while before leaving to make the Martins lunch and I asked her to deliver a message from me saying that after I was all moved in and cleaned up I would come around to say hello. The four of us finished setting up the apartment and then sat down around my dining table to eat some lunch that Jan and Sid had packed us. The usual jokes about "the first party" and "how nice to invite us" were passed around and about 2:00 they headed out. Just before they left Jan came up and pulled me aside. "Carol; you've got a phone, use it. Don't try and do everything yourself. If you need someone to talk to, give me a call, OK?" I kissed Jan on the cheek and promised, and then I watched them drive off leaving me, a young unmarried woman, in her new apartment. I stripped off my jeans and sweatshirt and washed up a bit. Then I combed my hair and changed into slacks, a blouse and sweater and went off to see the Martins. The last time I had come to the house I went through the front door so I went back there again and rang the bell. After a moment Uncle Peter answered and looked at me in surprise. "Oh Carol, you don't have to ring the bell. Just walk in or you can go in the back way also, which is nearer to your apartment. I'll show you how to use the security system later and give you a key. How is the move going?" I explained that I was moved in and partially unpacked. Annette came into the foyer at that point grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me away to barrage me with questions about the move, about when she could come up to see the place and then dragged me into the kitchen to get Emily to feed me, even though I explained I had eaten. I quickly realized that at least as far as Annette was concerned I was just another member of the extended family that lived on the Martin's Tarrytown property. The fact that I had a job and a salary did not mean that she was going to look at me as an employee. That meant I would have to work even harder to not disappoint the Martin's but I now knew that some of the social boundaries would be easier to deal with. I managed to beg off having dinner with them by saying that my head was swirling from the activity and that all I wanted was to do some more unpacking and then have a lie down and a quiet snack alone. Annette seemed disappointed but we agreed that I would join them for dinner the following evening, and I made my escape. I climbed back up to my apartment noting that there was room for one chair on the porch and closed the door behind me. Boxes were scattered about the place but all the furniture was where it was supposed to be. I had made sure that every box was labeled and began the task of opening, sorting and putting things away. I started by finding the box marked "cleaning and sundries" and pulled out spray cleansers, sponges, paper towels and the rest of the paraphernalia of setting up a new home. I stopped and dug through a suitcase and pulled out a bandanna. I tucked my hair back, tied the bandanna on and seeing myself in the hall mirror chuckled at my appearance. By 6:00 I had everything put away except the books. I stood back and looked at the big closet in the bedroom. In my New Jersey place until two weeks before the move, my real clothes shared the closet with my suits, ties and men's garments. Now the closets contained only what I wanted to wear. Even if I went in and grabbed a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt it was because as a woman that is what I wanted to wear. I took a deep breath, pulled off the bandanna and wrapping my arms around my middle hugged myself in disbelief. I was Carol, I was really Carol. There was still some food left over from Jan and Sid's picnic and I had some canned soup so there was no need to cook. I put on the radio and found a classical music station and just sat in my rocking chair looking out the window and did my best to relax. It wasn't really meditation that I did in times like this; it was more as if I tried to become the same temperature and color of my surroundings. I just let time pass absorbing the sounds and when I awoke it was almost eight o'clock. I made myself some dinner and looked out the window into the now dark Westchester sky. The evening was cool but not cold, so after I ate I pulled a kitchen chair onto the porch but did not turn on the outside light. I sat in the dark with a glass of wine. The breeze made it through my sweater and I shivered but it was so peaceful I kept sitting and sipping. After a while I noticed that occasionally I could see a light in the woods behind house. It seemed far away, definitely beyond the property line I had been shown through the kitchen window. I wondered who was playing around in the dark and decided it was probably some high school kids looking for a quiet place to fool around. Bless them I thought, but be careful, no unsafe sex and don't drive if you've been drinking. With that in mind I drank the last bit of wine and went back inside to shower and go to bed. Chapter 5: Hitting the Books I have discovered that the first night in a new room is always restless. I know this from visiting with friends or staying at hotels. My first night in Tarrytown was no different. I lay in bed and stared at the shadows on the walls. I twisted and turned, hammered on the pillows and sooner or later drifted off to sleep. When my alarm went off at 7:00 I wasn't feeling particularly rested but I had a lot of things I wanted to do that Sunday so I peeled myself out of bed and faced the day. As usual I started with stretches, crunches and some running in place, and then with my blood finally flowing I took a shower. I put on my robe and slippers and wearing nothing beneath, except for panties, sat down to my morning coffee and cereal. Back in New Jersey the newspaper would have been left at my door and I felt a bit lost with nothing to read so I pulled out a Westchester map and looked at the roads around Tarrytown. If this had been a normal Sunday I would have gone to church (Unitarian) but I hadn't figured that out yet locally so I decided that I would start working on the books. An earlier peek at them told me I had a lot of work to do. The books seemed to be balanced but expenses were not recorded by type and I am sure that at the end of the year the Martin's accountant had a lot of work to do. They also had no accounting software, so I was going to have to start with a calculator, pencil and paper. As I sipped my second cup of coffee I started making a shopping list and a second list of places to locate such as the bank, the shopping center, a church, etc. I looked around the apartment and noticed that there was no local phone book. I planned to use my cell phone rather than install a phone but I still would need a local book, so that went on a third list "things to obtain". By the time I was finished with my coffee it was 9:15 and I felt ready to go. I pulled a nice pair of jeans from the closet and a turtleneck with light blue and green flowers on a white background. Together with a light sweater and brown loafers I felt I would be nicely dressed for sitting around. I had to think about the bra for a bit but ended up with a plain unpadded white brassiere. Normally I try to make mountains out of molehills when it comes to my small breasts but I wanted to play it low key at the start. A bit of make up, throw some items into my bag and I was ready to start the day. I went to the back door and had to use my key to get in. I saw that the Martin's had left breakfast dishes in the kitchen but that Emily wasn't there. I looked around but found no-one in the house so I went to the little room that acted as Annette's home office and had a small desk I would use as my work space and sat down to work. I quickly became absorbed in the accounts and began by reading all of the checks from the household account in order to get an idea of the flow of money. I jerked a bit when I heard a polite cough behind me and turned to see an attractive woman in her late forties looking at me with a puzzled expression. Then I could see the light go on in her mind. "Oh, you must be Carol. Peter told me you'd be working here." There something in her voice I couldn't work out but my alarm bells started ringing wildly and I could feel myself getting tense. She was nicely, if casually dressed, and I remembered that her name was Jeanne. I tried to ignore the warning and get off on a good note, so I stood up, smiled and held out my hand. "Hi, yes I'm Carol, you must be Jeanne Sklar, Mr. Martin's sister." Jeanne ignored my hand and strode past me into the office and glanced at the opened check registers. "Well I suppose Annette needed a bookkeeper. I trust you'll be accurate. I never seem to get what I need from Peter." With that she gave me a sub-zero smile and left. I just stood looking out the door as she disappeared in the direction of the living room and then sat down with my mouth wide open. I realized what the look was on her face. She had classified me as a servant and probably resented the fact that I was going to see all of her expenses. "I'll trust you'll be accurate" that bitch. I spent a few minutes bringing my blood pressure down and resisted the urge to put the household account aside and pick up the records for Jeanne's checking account. I was just about to pick up my pencil again when I heard a voice behind me. "Hi, are you Carol?" I turned to see a female version of Uncle Peter standing behind me. The woman was in her late sixties or early seventies and dressed for jogging or tennis but the resemblance to Uncle Peter was remarkable. "Yes, and you must be Ms. Clark, Uncle Peter's aunt." I made the family reference to make sure that I was not put down again. However the woman just smiled and leaned against the door frame. "Oh just call me Claire. So you met the dragon, right?" I stared at her blankly. "My niece, Jeanne. She already came back to our house complaining about you. Don't worry though; she thinks the weather forecaster deliberately lies to her and that the policemen go out of their way to write her parking tickets." I smiled a bit. "Yes, she seemed a bit chilly." Claire just shook her head. "Chilly. Yes I guess that's a description. Oh well I'm off for a run. Jeanne and I live in the small house at the bottom of the drive. Drop by some time and I will give you coffee." Again I tried to recapture my train of thought and managed to work for almost an hour and a half before I heard doors opening and closing and people moving about. By then though I had figured out what the different accounts were and who signed the checks. I still had to make sure that everything was balanced and then start to put a real system in place. I made some notes so I would know where to start and put away the books and went to see who had come in. Uncle Peter and Annette were in the living room and waved at me as I came in. We sat down and I answered questions about the apartment and what I was up to at the moment. It was the usual chit chat. I mentioned that I had met Jeanne and Claire and had started on the books. "Oh, you can't have started already" said Annette. I explained I was just trying to get a general idea of what was needed and then broached the idea of installing some accounting software. Uncle Peter told me to pick out what I wanted and we briefly went over some expenses I thought we needed to make. Then the conversation turned to local matters such as where the shopping center was and after a while we stood up to go our separate ways. It was just as I was leaving the room that Annette called out to me. "Remember we're having dinner together. We have some guests coming over so you'll need to change. We're not formal just nice. We'll have cocktails at 6:30. OK" I smiled and nodded, desperately trying to think what I should wear, and then said "6:30 then" and went on my way. Back at my apartment I changed my sweater for a fleece vest and my loafers for boots and grabbing my jacket, gloves and helmet went out to the scooter to go shopping. Then I had to go back to the apartment to grab the map and the shopping list, but finally I fired up the Suzuki and wheeled down the driveway. It was a crisp early fall day and I knew that I should have taken warmer gloves but the wind felt good and I was happy to be on two wheels. Shortly after I turned right out of the driveway some one on a large cruiser passed going the other direction and we waved as we passed each other. I followed a circuitous route down to the Hudson River and ended at a small park. I stepped off the bike and removing my helmet shook out my hair. A few sail boats were braving the chilly breeze and a couple was walking their dog along the shore. I said hi to the couple and clicked my tongue at the dog. It was a perfect suburban weekend day and I stood there smelling the air and smiling. I heard the sound of a v-twin motorcycle and turned around to see what was pulling in. The rider slowly eased his machine next to my scooter and turning off the engine laid the bike over on the side stand. He dismounted and pulled off a full face helmet to reveal a nice looking, clean shaven face. The bike was a big Victory motorcycle and I could tell by looking at the clean accessories and the unmarked panels that this was a rider who either spent a lot of time cleaning his machine, or else only rode on local jaunts. "Hi" he said. "It's a great day for a ride." Small talk is small talk the world around and we admired each others machines. He asked my name and I found out his was Alan. I commented I had just moved to Tarrytown but ducked giving him my address or phone number and, regretfully, turned down an offer to join him on a ride up the West side of the river along the Palisades. It was fun flirting a bit and Alan seemed nice and was good looking. He gave me directions to the local Grand Union and we parted with the standard "See you around" and "I'll look for you on the road" comments. Feeling good about the morning I went off to do some shopping. People are always amazed at how much you can fit in a maxi-scooter. When I got back to the Martin's I pulled the scooter up by the stairs to my apartment and started to unload. When I had finished pulling stuff out of the box on the back and the under seat storage I had three bags of groceries and a couple of two liter bottles of lemonade. I was about to haul them up the stairs when I heard a man's voice calling to me. "Hey there, do ya need a hand?" I looked about for a moment and then saw a face staring over a bush at me. In a little bit I had introduced myself to Craig who came in to handle lawn work and fix up jobs for the Martin's. He helped me carry the groceries up, and haul out some of the trash from the move. He commented he had done the painting of the apartment and I thanked him for a job well done. He was in his forties and told me a bit about the arrangement he had to work at the estate. When he left I had to give in to some giggles. Throughout the conversation whenever Craig thought I wouldn't notice I could tell he was scoping me out. It was nice to be looked at and I felt no threat from him. Hmmm, two men in as many hours had looked me over and smiled. Life was not bad. I put away the groceries, had a light lunch and finished putting away the books. It was mid-afternoon when I stood in the middle of the apartment and decided that I was moved in. Oh sure there were still some things to get done. I needed a floor lamp, I had to hang some art on the walls and stuff like that, but I could have someone in and say to myself that it looked acceptable. I decided to give myself a treat and try out the bathtub. The tub in my Jersey apartment was so small that if I got my shoulders under the water my knees stuck way out. Even though I am only five foot eight it was just too small. This tub was deeper, wider and about six inches longer. Carol was going to have a real bath. I started by checking my face, legs, arms and armpits for hair. The week before I moved I purchased an odd little device with a spinning spring that promised to pluck out the finest hairs painlessly. That was a lie, it hurt, but it did a good job and now I rarely needed to use a razor. This day I just touched up my upper lip and a few hairs on my forearms. It was nice to see how little body hair I now had. I even trimmed my pubic hair a bit with some scissors. Then I started filling the tub and added a couple of squirts of jasmine scented bath oil. Enough light came through the window so I did not need the overhead lights. As the bath filled I made sure the porch door was locked and then went into the bathroom and took off my robe. I noticed there was no hook on the back of the door and made a mental note to pick one up and draped my robe over the counter. Then I slid into the steaming sweet scented water. I had timed it right and the water rose to the overflow slot but not over the edge of the tub. I turned off the faucets leaned back and closed my eyes. With my shoulders covered, my knees just brushed the surface of the water and I let the warmth creep into me. After a while I opened my eyes and sighed with contentment. I looked down and gazed for a bit. I was still amazed that I had breasts. Okay they were not large and the nipples, though they had enlarged a bit and darkened, were still smaller and flatter than a biological woman's. It didn't matter, they were breasts and they were real. I slowly moved my hand across my right breast feeling a tingle that went all the way to my crotch as I brushed the nipple. I bit my lip a bit as I pinched my nipple and then once again let my hand float free and sunk back down into the warm water. It seemed almost a crime to step out of the bath but the water was cooling down and I knew I had things to do before dinner. I patted myself down with a towel and then finished with a scented powder. As Jeremy I used plain talc but Carol used a lightly scented product. I brushed my hair and then pulled on a pair of cotton panties a t-shirt and a running suit. I put on my slippers and sat down at the dining table. My first task was a call to my parents, followed by calls to Chuck and Jan. My father picked up the phone and we talked for a while. My parents were unhappy about my decisions but remained loving and supportive. My father wanted to know all about the Martin's estate, the types of cars they drove, what was the swimming pool like, etc. I had to push him back a bit because I didn't know most of the answers. Jan was out so I left a message and then I called Chuck. Chuck and I talked for a while and he actually unburdened a little more to me. While at his apartment I learned about his split with the church, now we talked about each other's relationships. I wish we had started talking like this earlier when I still worked in New York City. I needed someone to talk to back then and I think Chuck did as well. By the time I hung up on Chuck it was almost 5:30 and I had to face the fact that I needed to choose an outfit for the evening. Annette had said people would be dressed nicely but that it was not formal. She had used almost the same words to describe Fokele's so I decided to aim for the same level of dress. I had the outfit I wore to the restaurant, a nice pair of gray slacks which went well with a blouse and sweater and the red dress I purchased but had never worn. Oh well, it was time to be a bit daring. With an hour to go to dinner I didn't want to get dressed yet so I sat down on worked on some lists of things to do and to purchase. One of things I had taken care of earlier was to get a box at the post office so that mail addressed to Jeremy Baker wouldn't create confusion at the house. I also arranged that his sister Carol was authorized to pick up the mail. That left a dozen or more other little tasks to get done. I also had a list of things such as hooks for a door, a floor lamp and a small rug to purchase. Without lists I would go insane. While I worked on the lists I touched up my nail polish with the same dark red they used at the spa. The lists kept me busy for twenty minutes and kept my mind off dressing for dinner. I started by laying out my clothes on the bed so I could take a last look at them. I was still unsure about what to wear but didn't want to call Annette and act as though I was entirely new at this. When I was done I stood back and thought about the dress. Jan helped me buy the dress and assured me that I looked good in it. It was a rich, dark red, wool blend that while it did not cling to my body it showed off what breasts I did have and required a flat stomach, which I am happy to say I still have. The neckline was not low cut but it did have a slice that went down the middle that hinted it might show off something and the neckline was decorated with a floral pattern created by red embroidery on the red cloth and small cut outs between the leaves. It wasn't provocative or erotic but it definitely was not "school marmish". I had paid almost $150 for this dress and was going to wear it proudly. Next to the dress lay a maroon brassiere. Because of the cut outs in the neckline my bra straps would show through. It had taken a while to find an A-cup, dark red, pushup bra but after hitting five stores I finally did. Next to the bra lay a gaff. I hate gaffs for how they feel and what they represent but with a dress like this I needed complete discretion so a gaff it was. The gaff was black satin and I could almost persuade myself it was just an oddly cut pair of panties. A black half slip and nude pantyhose which had a little bit of a shine to them completed the picture. Next to the bed was a pair of black sandals. Shoes are my downfall. Just as with handbags I can never find a pair I like, excepting motorcycle boots or sneakers. These had a one inch heel, a series of thin straps across the toes and a single strap behind the ankle. I started with the gaff and tucking myself in adjusted the straps until I had a reasonable balance between a smooth front and minimal discomfort. Then I put on the brassiere. When that was done I looked in the mirror and smiled. The bra did push me up and created a little cleavage. I could see a trace of nipple through the fabric, which I liked even though I knew the fabric of the dress would hide this completely. Pantyhose were next and I could see my toes through them and wondered if I might have been wise to paint my toenails but it was too late now to reconsider. When all the undergarments were on I picked up the dress and slipped it over my head, wriggling a bit to make it slide down my body. A hidden hook closed the slit in the front and I smoothed the cloth over my hips and went into the bathroom to take care of my hair. It had been almost three weeks since my spa appointment and I could see that I would shortly need to go to a hair dresser again. I made a mental note to put finding a salon on the to-do list. I brushed my hair and used a touch of spray the way I had been shown at the spa. Then I put on some lipstick, a bit of blusher and some eye shadow. I went back out to my bedroom and looked over my small assortment of earrings. I picked up a pair that my mother had given me. They were a diamond chip with a garnet dangler and I decided would go well with the dress. I slipped on the shoes and then went and slowly turned back and forth in front of the mirror. I still was amazed by what the last year and a half had brought forth. Eighteen months earlier I was a clown. I have pictures from then and they are embarrassing. Bit by bit the hormones changed my shape. Exercise an