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Andy by Transbonder, translated by Leah from the German (## signifies a change, a passage of time throughout.) ONE "I can't just put on your jeans!" I said in irritation. "Don't make such a fuss," said Biene. Her name's really Sabine, but everyone calls her Biene. But you're not allowed to say Bienchen, 'cause then she gets cross. "These are totally normal jeans." (Note: 'Biene' means 'bee' in German, and the name Sabine is pronounced 'za bee neh.' 'Bienchen' means 'little bee' and is probably just a little too cute for our burgeoning teenager.) "Yes, for girls." "Nonsense. They're cut normally and don't have embroidery or anything like that." I looked thoughtful. My pants weren't to be rescued, that was clear. It was cool to wear old jeans, but mine were too old. When I went to sit down, they split open with a loud tearing sound. "They for sure won't fit me," I added lamely, since nothing else came to mind. "Well, just try it once." She ended our now lengthy discussion by pressing the jeans into my hands and walking away. I held the pants irresolutely in my hands. If someone noticed that I was wearing girls' pants -- not to be imagined. But the jeans really did look completely normal. Finally I pulled them on. I wanted to pull up the zipper, but my hand couldn't find it. Of course the reason was quickly obvious, the zipper was turned around. Instead of using my right hand, I fumbled around with the left for a time. Bienchen would have really been amused. I had even more trouble with the button, which was also on the wrong side. Finally it was fastened. I examined the pants critically. Although Bienchen was shorter than I, the length fit. And everything else, too. It could have been a pair of my own jeans. Biene came back. "See! They fit. Turn around." I hesitated, it seemed improper to twist like a girl in front of the mirror. Finally I did turn myself around. "Fits. And looks good." "But I can't just..." "And why not?" "Because they're girls' jeans!" "But you can't tell." "Oh yes, you can. The fasterners are all turned around on the wrong side." "And you think, someone is going to notice that? I guarantee, it won't happen." I looked doubtfully at the fit. Biene went on, "If someone notices that, then I'll pay for the movie." But I'd have to pay myself (And how!) if someone noticed; it made me very nervous. ## "...but I just can't--" "Now don't start that all over again," Biene scolded. "You had a pair of my jeans on a couple weeks ago, and no one noticed it." "But this pullover is clearly just for girls." "Give me a break. It's just a normal sweater. Like I had one of yours on not along ago." "But that's totally different!" "In what way? If I put on one of yours, then it's OK, and if you put on one of mine, then it is a catastrophe? I'll bet, that you could be dressed in my things from head to toe, and no one would notice it." "I'd rather not test that thought." "Yes, because you're a scaredy cat." Oho, that did it, the word that enabled me to anything in the realm of the possible. I drew the pullover on. "I want to make a deal with you. I want you to dress in my things tomorrow. At school and for the whole day. If someone notices it, then next time we go swimming I'll wear the Bikini that you bought for me." The Bikini really consisted of little more than a few strings with an inconsequential amount of cloth, and it was meant as a joke. Biene would never put on something like that. Unfortunately. It would look super, of that I was sure. "The Bikini, honest?" "Yes." I pondered. However, I was so taken with the thought of Biene wearing that Bikini, that I didn't notice the snag in this deal. It's just that someone would have to notice that I wore girls' clothing for her to wear the Bikini. And that would be a catastrophe. I pictured Biene in the Bikini and wanted to say OK right away, but first asked, "And exactly what am I supposed to put on?" "The jeans you know about, and the pullover that you have on right now, and also my lingerie." "Lingerie?" "Yes, of course. I did say, in my things. And I normally wear lingerie. We won't try my shoes, because they won't fit you." "I don't know..." "No one can see the lingerie. You'll just feel it, then you'll be reminded, what you're wearing." ## On the next morning before school I was at Bienchen's house in her room. By now this didn't seem such a good idea at all as I drew on her panties in the bathroom. They were cotton in a shade of dark red. A lace decoration showed clearly that this was a very feminine piece of clothing. "Hurry up," Biene called. "We're going to be late." She was right. Just dressed in her panties I went out of the bathroom into her room. She welcomed me with a bra in her hand. As she saw my eyes widen with horror, she said impatiently, "What are you looking at? Because of the bra? That should have been obvious to you." She was right, I thought. But I had repressed that somehow. Biene took advantage of my indecisiveness and pulled the bra on me without my defending myself. The bra fit snugly. Biene had a smaller upper torso. But since it was made of an elastic material, it worked after all. Quickly I pulled the camisole, which Biene handed me, over it. This matched the panties and had a corresponding patch of lace between the breasts. And the shoulder straps were very narrow. Then I pulled on as quickly as possible the jeans and pullover as well as the socks, much more sheer than my own, which were the last things she gave me. They were knee socks, which generated a sensation completely unfamiliar to me. ## The first hour was the worst. I was supernervous. The pressure around my chest didn't let up. I could hardly follow what was going on in class. In the break I met Biene. "Well, how many have noticed it so far?" she asked. I looked around. "Shhh, I don't want anybody noticing something." "I find the thought so sexy that you're wearing lacy lingerie," she sighed into my ear. I didn't say anything. If someone had heard that! At the next break I was considerably more calm. Up to now no one had noticed anything. Biene was talking with Svenja. I greeted them. "Hi, Andy," Svenja said, "can you give me the physics lesson?" I smiled at her. "Of course." "You're a sweetie." Then she gave me a quick hug. I noticed her glance as she left, but I couldn't figure it out. Why did she look at me so oddly? Svenja wasn't sure of what she had felt. But what else could it be than a bra closure? She was really confused. ## Later Svenja saw Andy again. She recognized the pullover, of that she was certain. That belonged to Sabine. Why was Andy wearing it? Then, when Andy picked up his backpack, she observed carefully. As he bent the sweater pulled closely around his back. And if you knew what to look for, you could see the faint trace of a bra outline. Her first reaction was relief, that she wasn't imaginings things. But why was Andy wearing a bra? Did he wear other girl clothing? ## When I got home, I was relieved. No one had noticed what I was wearing. And actually I had scarcely felt the bra. What had I gotten myself involved in? What if somone had seen it! But the pullover was great, I now found, since I knew that it caused no problems. Is there a different kind of cotton for girls? This was much softer than my sweaters, the inside was downright fluffy. And I also liked the feel of the lingerie. In the beginning I hadn't noticed anything, because I was in such a panic. Now I ran my hand under the sweater across the camisole. It felt smooth. My undershirts were different. ## "That's not really your pullover?" my mother said at supper. I face suddenly burned red. "Eh, no. That's Biene's." "Biene's? And wny are you wearing one of her pullovers?" "I --eh-- my pullover -- I mean, I had a spot on mine. And then she loaned me hers." "Nice of her. But since when has a spot bothered you?" "Well..." "Never mind. And how do you like it? I mean, your sweaters are quite different. I would never have believed that you'd put on something like this." She grasped the seam and examined the material. "Really nice and soft." "Yes, I like that, too," I said quickly. If she were to come up with the idea that I should take it off? I would be in a bra and a lacy camisole. My body ran hot, then cold. Never again would I perpetrate such nonsense! ## I waited a long time, before I had the confidence to undress. What if exactly in that moment my mother were to come into the room! It was clear to me that I had yet another problem. I couldn't simply put the dirty lingerie into the dirty wash. No one was to be allowed to see that stuff. And then there was a further problem. How was I to get the things out of the house tomorrow? My school stuff was practically all at school in my locker. Therefore I had no pack, just a small briefcase. The stuff wouldn't fit into that. And if I took something else, a sack or somthing, Mom would be guaranteed to ask about it. No, there was only one possibility to get the things out of the house. Exactly as they came in: on my body. I had never before put on a bra. I didn't know whether that would become a problem or not. I mean, with a lot of time, surely I could put on a bra, but I didn't want to get caught putting on a bra. My mom frequently came into my room. And to wear the things in the bathroom was even more dangerous. There I would be safe, but the path getting there was too dangerous. No, there was only one sensible solution: I had to keep the lingerie on under my pajamas. That way I'd be able to change clothes the fastest. ## Because I had gotten to bed so late, I was running late this morning. I'd also not slept particularly well. At any rate it was too late now to still go to Biene's. There was nothing else I could do than to go to school. And since my own stuff was at Biene's, that meant today would be a repeat of yesterday. Same lingerie, same pullover, same jeans. Bienchen became animated when she felt the bra as we greeted one another. What was it that she found so stimulating? I had an uncomfortable feeling about this. If she got her way it was surely not the last time that I'd be wearing one, I suspected. And someone else saw how Biene caressed my back. Svenja was certain that I was wearing a bra again. ## After school I went together with Biene to her house. No one was at home, and so I could change clothes with no problems. But I had to admit that my stuff wasn't even close to being as comfortable. Even the jeans, hers were somewhat elastic, mine not. "So, when are we going swimming?" I asked with a broad grin. "Swimming? Why do you ask?" "Because of the Bikini?" "I'm not going to put it on." "What? You promised." "No, I didn't. I said that I'd put it on if someone noticed that you were wearing girl stuff. But no one noticed." "You mean, I have worn a bra for two days for nothing? "Certainly not for nothing. You showed that you have the courage. And I found that good." I grumbled to myself. Women! ## The next few weeks passed by without incident. Except for one thing: My mother bought me two new pullovers. Soft pullovers. In that respect different from my others. Otherwise nothing in particular but in a unisex design. And the labels were missing. I really didn't want to know what that might mean. Since people didn't notice anything unusual, I wore them. Why did she buy them for me? Because of the one of Biene's that I wore? Apparently I should have done that earlier. Bienchen had goodnaturedly brought up the question a few times, as to when was I actually going to buy my own bras, but she stopped that eventually. ## "I really have to talk to you." Svenja said to me. I was surprised. Usually such pretty girls such as Svenja don't speak to me, they live in their own class. "Yeah, what about?" "I can't say here. Can you come to my house? At three?" "Eh - for me to go to another girl's house wouldn't make Biene very happy." "Not a problem, Biene knows about this." Biene knows? Suddenly I got this bad feeling again. "OK. I'll be there." At three I rang the door bell. Svenja opened up. Oh, she's wearing something different than her regular school clothes. She wore a sexy miniskirt with dark patterned pantyhose. "Hi, Andy," she said smiling. She led me to her room. "Have a seat." I sat on a small upholstered chair. She sat on her bed. "So, what's the problem then?" "I don't know whether you're aware that I do baby sitting to earn some money." She paused, as though she didn't know how she should continue. "We are three girls working together." "Working together? I thought baby sitting could be done by a single person." "Dimwit! Of course you can do that alone. But there are always problems, where one of us can step in to help. We help each other." Another pause arose. "I mean, the people rely on us. For example one client works changing shifts, and we can't simply decline." Yet another silence. After a moment's wait I interjected, "Just tell me, what this is all about?" "OK. Anja is sick. Broken arm. For some time she won't be able to help." "And...?" "We have no substitute. We've been looking for days in vain. Tomorrow someone just has to be available." "And why are you telling me that? Shouldn't you really be asking Biene?" "Biene can't do it. They have pets, and she's allergic to them." "And now you're asking me?" "Yes. I don't know of anyone else." "No one? There must be better candidates than me." "I've asked everyone I know. Everyone. No one can." "OK, you need a baby sitter. What do they pay?" "Fifteen Euros an hour." "Fifteen Euros!?!?" At my last job I earned six Euros. And that was hard work. "I see that you are interested." "Yes, for sure. Fifteen Euros! Why didn't you tell me that earlier? For a bit of sitting around." "Oh, it is more than just a bit of sitting. There are two children, one is an infant. You've got to feed from bottles--" I interrupted her. "I certainly wouldn't let any child starve to death." She continued as though I hadn't said anything. "--change diapers." "Oh." "Put up with crying, get oatmeal all over your clothing..." "OK, OK, I understand. Not always the most agreeable things. Still, I am interested." For fifteen Euros I can take a lot. "Very good. You can do it, then?" "It can't be all that hard." She tossed a doll to me. "Hold this like a baby." I held it with two hands. "I suspect the child wouldn't survive that kind of handling very long. For babies you have to support the head, they don't have strong muscles yet to do that for themselves." "Like so?" "No. One hand under the head, the baby in the crook of your arm -- Yes, that's good." "OK, I have to learn a few things." "Yes. If you want to do it--" "I want to." "-then I'll come one evening with you and show you everything. Since I'll be doing most of the work, you get just seven Euros." "OK." "The times we work are: Work four days, three days free. Each time four to five hours. Till Anja can work again. That means about six to eight weeks." I thought. "I'll have to ask Mom, but I think that'll work fine." "Gut, then you can tell me for sure tomorrow." "No problem." "Oops, one more thing...." The way she said it caught my full attention. I looked at her expecting her to continue. "Mrs. Weber will only accept girls." Huh? What did she say? A moment passed till I said, "Umm - I'm not a girl." "Yes, but..." "But?" I looked at her in total confusion. Then she burst forth, "When I saw you wearing girl stuff in school for two days, I mean even a bra, then I thought, you, you were one of those boys who wants to be a girl. And that you could pass for a girl. I mean, you were even in school..." As she took note of my horrified facial expression, her voice got softer and softer, until no more sound came forth. I was in total panic. "You saw that?" She nodded. "Biene didn't tell you anything?" She shook her head. "Oh man!" I held my head in both hands, and didn't know what I could say. "Well, I don't understand anything now," she said softly. "I thought..." My thoughts raced. How did she mean all this? If she were to tell anyone! How on earth would I survive that? "Does this mean you don't want the job any more?" As much as my poor brain was capable, I pondered. First, fifteen Euros. Secondly, to go there disguised as a girl. But what was still even far more important: If I gave the wrong answer to Svenja, what would she tell in school? Apparently it was fully OK to her for a boy to want to be a girl. So, if I said yes, probably no problems would arise. On the other hand, however... She looked at me expecting an answer. I needed more time! But that's what I didn't have. I needed to make a decision -- now. My head was spinning. I just could not think any more. "I'll do the job." With luck there'd be no catastrophe! "But I have nothing to wear." It was clear to me that that sounded strange for someone who was supposed to be a crossdresser. "My mother can't know anything about this." "Oh! You really have a problem. Now I understand, now it makes sense." I had just outed myself as a transperson without actually being one, and she found that that made sense? Just try to understand women! "We'll find a solution. But I have to be able to depend on your doing the job; you will do it?" I nodded. My former life is over, I thought. Now it's too late. I should say no and leave. Or say, that I really don't have a thing for girl clothing. Or... "Gut, which size do you wear?" "Umm - I don't know? Like Biene, her things fit me." Then I added, "Except for the shoes." "Biene never told me that!" "Please, don't talk to her about this. Promise?" She nodded slowly. "Not even about the job?" I thought. There was no doubt that she'd learn about it. "Tell her as little as possible. I don't know whether she will understand." And that was the pure truth. She looked at me closely and then cast a thoughtful glance at the ceiling. Then she said, "I understand that you would like to be a girl, but that no one must know that. Therefore you haven't done anything that would give you away. Naturally there will be a few problems. Your hair is not good enough, your face will do just fine though. With eye shadow and mascara, a little penciling in your eyebrows, and some rouge that should work. But not your hair." "Eh, maybe a wig?" "You've never had much to do with small children? A wig could never withstand the grabbing. Let me think..." She ran her fingers through my hair thoughtfully. It made my head feel very good. "Hmmm, pulled directly back from your face doesn't make it look that good. But this way, like with bangs and then to the back with all the rest. Wait, I have to get something." She came back a moment later. "This functions like a comb. It won't hold forever, but it is clearly better than a wig." She combed a large part of my hair to the back, and then stuck in the hairpiece with its comb. "No, that won't work. Your hair is simply too short." She sounded very disappointed. Suddenly she said happily, "But I have another idea." She returned with a wig. "I wore this for Mardi Gras, when I was dressed as Funkenmariechen" (*'Sparkly little Marie' in her annual revival as a brightly dressed dancing/marching girl a good 10-15 years older than her name suggests - some images are in my story "Tanzmarie".) "That was a deliriously wonderful time." I could just see braided brown hair. She placed it on my head. Now I looked like I had two long, fat pigtails. "Umm, istn't that a bit too much stereotypical?" "No, not at all. Whenever I go babysitting, I often make pigtails or a ponytail. That's much more practical than wearing your hair free- falling. And then too, I don't have anything else, and such a wig is very expensive. At least it's not blond." "OK. And why should this one suddenly be the one that holds to my head?" I pulled as a kind of test on one pigtail. It held astonishing good, but finally it did slide off. "Because we will use hair clips. That's a bit of work, but it should hold like concrete. I had already almost forgotten, that the clips belong to the whole thing. That's so it won't come off during dancing. I didn't need that." She picked up something that looked like a net, took off my wig, and pulled the net over my head. Then she took several hair clips and shoved them through the net into my hair. Then came the wig back on my head, which somehow anchored firmly in the net. She pulled on one braid. Solid. "Oww!" I yelled. I had felt the pull as though my own hair was yanked. "Great, it works. And even without make-up you already look like a girl." She pulled me in front of a mirror. In fact, the wig changed my appearance very much, above all the bangs over my forehead. I slowly began to believe that this would work. A quarter hour later I was convinced. I was clothed in a sweater with a bra underneath, which gave me a little breadth up above. The same size as Svenja. No wonder, it was her bra. In addition I wore a black skirt, made of two different materials, which reached the middle of my calves. "Why a skirt and no jeans?" I asked. "Really simple, you don't have the figure. Too narrow in the hips, too little rump, and a largish bump up front. With a skirt none of all that is noticeable." Wearing a skirt was really unusual. A lot of loose material around the legs. I was constantly aware of what I wore. But in the mirror I looked just like the typical girl from next door. "We'll have to come up with an idea to deal with the bra," I said. "It keeps creeping upward." "No wonder; there's no weight. I'll figure out something by morning." ## In school I was pretty much absent-minded. I was thinking constantly that in the afternoon I would be going as a girl to a family I did not know. At least it was close enough that I didn't have to go by bus. But still, I would have to walk down the streets in a skirt. It seemed completely unreal to me - and I was profoundly scared. Again and again I asked myself what I was doing. If it hadn't been better for me to decline the job? After all, I didn't want to be a girl. Wanted neither pigtails nor a skirt. I looked around in the class. Not one of the girls had braids or a skirt. After school I took my leave from Biene, to go meet with Svenja. I didn't know how much Svenja had told her, and by way of caution hadn't asked. Biene would certainly have enjoyed our first meeting: shopping for shoes. In addition to my own lingerie. We had already solved one of our fundamental problems yesterday: What to do with my things and where to change clothes? I couldn't go home with a skirt. My mom had said yes to the job right away. "Finally you are growing up." But I scarcely believe she would have been so enthusiastic if she could have seen my clothing. Svenja's parents had a tiny garden house in the garden, which was only used in the summer. It was directly adjacent to the garage, which shielded it from the house. It was full of trash and stuff and we first had to create some room. It wasn't much, but then for changing clothes, I didn't have any great needs. I already had the key. I already had two purchases behind me. Since I had no money, Svenja mapped out a way that I could work off any debts. I now wore a teddy with a liberal amount of lace, which substituted for the bra. This way it just couldn't slide so easily. And I was wearing pantyhose; like the teddy it was put on in the rest room. Now came the part that I dreaded: shoes. I had to try them on. I had rejected a normal shoe store, partly because of the cost involved, but above all, because there it was like I was on stage. Now we were in the shoe department of Walmart. Much more anonymous you can't get. Unfortunately, just two or three women walked tiredly through the aisles between the shelves. I let Svenja take charge. I had already asked her, why I couldn't just put on a pair of her gym shoes. The answer was purely a sense of horror. "That doesn't go with a skirt!" I didn't ask more. Insofar as possible protected by the shelving, I tried on what Svenja gave me. In my size there wasn't much of a selection. The first shoe I almost couldn't get on, because I was trembling from nerves. I wanted to get this behind me as quickly as possible, Svenja was of the opinion that the shoes had to really fit. By the third pair I was somewhat less nervous. These were simple black leather ballerina style flats. They fit very well and were comfortable. Svenja looked at me and I nodded. "OK, put on the second shoe and walk a few yards." "Svenja!" "Now don't make a fuss, besides you're going to wear them right away. After we leave here you'll be on the street." I said nothing, there was no use. I did everything she asked. "And?" "Perfect fit." "Good, then we can go," she said almost disappointed. I had tried on all too few in her opinion. On the other hand, I was relieved. ## I was wearing a single item of my own, and that was one of my new sweaters. And even that wasn't a particularly masculine-looking piece. Otherwise a teddy, with breasts of hair gel inside balloons, pantyhose, a skirt and my new shoes. The skirt was black and was composed of segment of alternating glittering and dull fabric. The lower you went, the wider the skirt became. And naturally I was wearing the wig. I don't know how I had overlooked the red bows on the braids last time. Svenja noticed how much I disapproved of them by holding a pigtail end in my hand. "The wig was meant for a 'Sparkly Little Marie' after all," she said. calmly. "I'll find something else. I have braid clasps." Whatever braid clasps were, they were definitely better than large red bows. She took the bow off one pigtail and held a coin-size piece of plastic on the place so she could fasten it with a rubber band. The plastic had notches on all sides to hold the rubber in place. Then came the second braid. It's amazing how a person can be overjoyed by the smallest things, I thought ironically. Braid clasps instead of hair bows and I felt better immediately. Now I had a plastic flower on each of my pigtails. "Make-up is the only thing left." "Do we have to do that?" Wasn't I feminine enough already? "Yes, we've got to. There is scarcely a girl, who doesn't at least use mascara or lipstick, and you need it, because your face is not feminine enough." "But you already said, with the wig..." "There's no understanding you. Want to be a girl, put on bra and skirt, and then have a problem with mascara?" Uh oh, I almost blew it. "It's just that I've never worn make-up before." "Good, then we'll make it simple. Let's start with your eyebrows." I didn't comprehend what she had in mind, just suddenly felt a pain. "Oww! What are you doing up there?" "Just removing a few superfluous hairs." "But that hurt!" "Don't make a big deal of it. Boys! Can't even bear up under a little hair plucking." I ground my teeth and endured. "See, no problem. I did a lot less than I really ought to. We don't want anyone noticing it when you're a boy again." Now she got a portable mirror and set it on the table. Then I had to draw in my eyebrows. I needed two tries till I got the curve down right. It was just a little support for my eyebrows to let it appear more of an arch. More feminine. What else had I expected? With the mascara it was just difficult to suppress my blinking. I needed just two tries before I could touch up my eyelashes with the black paste with no problem. My first try with eyeliner on my eyelid was successful. In search of some praise I looked at Svenja, but she simply said, "With time you'll do it better." I found the result dramatic enough now. No, not that it was too much make-up, exactly the opposite. What puzzled me was, how feminine my face now looked. My eyes were markedly emphasized just with a little black color. "And how do I get this off again?" "In the garden house doing the normal things is a bit difficult. First of all you can't take so many things along. I still have a few singley- packed tissues for removing make-up. This was an experiment. Clean yourself up, and then simply wipe dry with a regular washcloth. You just have to get some replacements before you run out." I hope nothing stays on, I thought to myself. Black color around the eyes wouldn't come across so good with Mom. "So, now we just have to pack your purse. These things I'll give you. They don't go with my things." "Why do I need a purse?" "Where do you intend to put your keys and wallet? The skirt has no pockets." "Oh." I really didn't know anything. Even such self-evident things. Obvious things. Not off to a good start! "And even with pants pockets you wouldn't have gotten far. Look, what I've gathered. Make-up tissues and a small mirror. Mascara and eyeliner. Washcloth. Your keys and your wallet. You'd better not let that be seen, no girl would carry something like that. Best thing is for you to buy a second one. And a tampon." "A tampon?" "Every girl has something like that by way of caution. Is just another detail, which shows that you are a girl, Andrea." "Andrea?" "Now I can't call you Andreas. Oder do you prefer another name?" "No, Andrea is OK. With other names I'll just confuse myself." "OK, then organize your purse. I'll gift you the make-up, too. There isn't much left, you'll need to get some replacement soon." Obediently I filled my purse. "Here, you can have this, too. I actually never use lip gloss." I tucked that away, too. The purse was getting full. "What you're still lacking is jewelry. With this pullover you don't necessarily need something around your neck, but I would advise it anyway. You know it by now, details. However, every girl has earrings." "Earrings? My ears aren't pierced." "There are some that clip on. Wouldn't recommend them, because they get uncomfortable in a short time. Can even hurt quite a bit. Pierced ears make it much better." "I can't have my ears pierced!" "Why not? A lot of guys wear earrings." "But you don't know my mother. I told her once something about tattoos, and she gave me holy hell." "Good, then we'll just put that off for now. But at least wear a necklace. Can be something really simple, a nice silver chain maybe. Oh, I just remembered something." She fetched something. "I have bracelets that are too big for me, constantly falling down my arm. Your hands are a bit wider. It's just simple constume jewelry." She gave me five very thin silverish bracelets, just a millimeter wide. I drew one over my hand. "No, not just one. All five!" Thereupon everytime I moved there was a soft jingling. You could barely hear it, at the same time I was unaccustomed to the sensation on my wrist. But what wasn't unaccustomed today? "It's also high time that we finish up here. You are worse than a real girl." ## As Svenja rang at the door, my heart beat wildly in my chest. The way here had already been bad enough. Dressed like a girl in public! And this time not in girl jeans, but rather in a skirt. And with shoes, which because of their hard soles were plainly to be heard. I believe, if someone had said "Boo!" I would have falled unconscious. A woman opened the door. "Ah, Svenja. And you are?" "Andrea," Svenja said. I wasn't up to speaking yet. "Come in. It is very good that there are two of you. Mark is so obstinate today. And Lena only wants to scream. Sorry, Andrea, not a good beginning. But sometimes children are just like that." Mrs. Weber was in her late twenties and looked very good. From the things she was wearing, you could tell her profession. She was dressed all in white, and was obviously a nurse. "Svenja, you know your way around. I'm in a hurry and have to leave right away. Andrea, we'll speak later." And with that she was on her way. However, my attention was redirected, because someone was tugging on my skirt. "Who are you?" asked a boy of about five. "That's Andrea. Be nice to her." "Will you play something with me?" he asked me. I didn't know what I ought to do. Something was expected of me. I looked questioningly at Svenja. "Just go with him," she said, "I'll look after Lena." Mark took me by the hand right away and dragged me into his room. You could hardly get into it because of all the toys lying about on the floor. Well, I had my difficulties, but for Mark they didn't exist. With the self-assuredness of a sleepwalker he buzzed through the room to a table. "Can you play cards?" I cautiously worked my way to the table next to which were a chair and a small bench upon which I sat down. The bench was low, and I fought with my skirt. I sat down like I always did, but that doesn't work in a long skirt. It stretched around my knees and caused me to plop down with a minimum of elegance. That didn't matter to Mark, he pressed cards into my hand. I muttered to myself about the long skirt, but for that matter I was happy that it wasn't short. From his low level he would have seen me and perhaps discovered things, which were not suitable for his young brain. Mark 'explained' the rules of play to me. Then he showed me the especially good cards which was apparently more important than actually playing the game. After some time I heard Svenja call me. I got up, but Mark didn't want to let me go and hugged me around my legs. A moment later he was under my skirt. I had to control myself so that wouldn't do the wrong thing in full panic mode. Carefully I loosened the clamp from around my legs. So that he wouldn't just do the same thing again, I lifted him high. Now he naturally clamped himself around my waist with his legs. Better than around my legs. That way I went to Svenja. ## I now had my first diaper change behind me. And actually no desire to ever do it again in my entire life. Unbelievable that such a small creature could produce such a stink. And in the attempt to free it from that condition, can defend itself against my efforts. I wore clear traces of the battle on me. Cream and powder were the least harmful. But baby spittle at least doesn't smell. "Lena likes you. I have never seen her so well-behaved in a diaper change." That was peaceful? Oh boy! "Next time though, you ought to roll up your sleeves." "Wish you'd said it earlier." "Should I have also mentioned the apron?" she said with a sarcastic grin. Then she fled, something that Mark found delightful. I left the revenge up to Mark. He knew her weak spots and tickled her until she gasped out a surrender. ## I couldn't comprehend that this bundle of energy was actually sleeping in his bed. After preparing our meal, washing Mark and thereby renovating the bathroom, I sat relaxed on the couch and gave Lena her bottle. She looked in my eyes very satisfied and belabored her pacifier as though she were being paid to do it. Then she fell asleep on my arm. I didn't trust myself to move once peace and quiet had descended. "Is it always like it was today?" "No. Most of the time it's worse." Shocked I asked, "Honestly?" "It varies wildly. Sometimes they are angels, sometimes not. Lena seems to like you. That a a good beginning." "What'll I do with her now?" "Let her lie on you. Mrs. Weber will come soon." "Say, something occurs to me: She works as a nurse and can pay us fifteen Euros an hour?" "No, no, she is an artist. In somewhat different circumstances than others. She presents her work in extraordinary ways. I don't think money is a problem for her." "To be disguised as a nurse, that is really extraordinary." "Appears to work." Our conversation didn't seem to bother Lena. She lay peacefully in the crook of my arm and dozed. "And what do you think of the job? Will you do it?" "It's a lot more work than I thought." "Everything was new for you today. When you develop a routine, it will go much faster." "Yes, I think so, too. And naturally I'll do the job. How am I going to pay my debts any other way?" I looked at my shoes. MY shoes -- a pair of ballerinas. "You will have to buy even more things. Just check out, how you look. Tomorrow you can't come here like that." "How will I get it clean? The sweater isn't a problem, but I can't take the skirt home to wash." "And your lingerie has to be washed from time to time. Why don't you talk to Mrs. Weber? She is very nice and for sure will let you use her washing machine." "Can you ask her? I barely know her." "OK, I'll do that." "Clothes are really a problem. If I buy even more, then there won't be much left from my earnings." That thought frustrated me. I worked to buy myself girl clothing and make-up. "You can just see, how things are for us girls. All the money goes for clothes. But I have an idea. You don't really need anything in particular, so we can bid for a clothing packet on eBay. That's cheap, even if you can't use half of it." "That's a good idea. But I have no idea what the right things are for a girl." "No problem, I'll take care of it for you." "Really? Super!" I bent down to her and gave her a little kiss on the cheek. Only when Lena protested loudly, did I notice, what I'd just done. I concealed my own confusion while soothing Lena. And she actually did quiet down. She gurgled happily to herself. "Unbelievable," said Svenja. No idea, what she meant by that. Soon after that we heard the front door open. A moment later Mrs. Weber stood before us. "What have you done with my children? Poisoned? I don't hear anything." Lena spoke up with a gurgle and stretched her hands into the air as through satisfied. I was about to say, 'Unbelievable what a few valium will do.' But instead I decided to keep my mouth shut. Instead Svenja said, "Lena likes Andrea. A lot." Mrs. Weber answered, "It seems we've had a stroke of luck. Usually Lena doesn't like anyone new, and now I can look forward to tomorrow calmly." I gave Lena to Mrs. Weber. For a moment it looked like Lena was going to cry, but then she apparently recognized her mother and was satisfied once more. After we had made small talk for a few minutes, we took our leave. Only when we got to Svenja's house it occurred to me, that I had just been in public without any hesitation. I had completely forgotten how I was dressed.