It All Changed After A Memorable Event free porn video

Nature does not always decide where the category where male begins and female ends, or what determines intersex babies. Doctors decide this, a small number of people aren't diagnosed as being intersex at birth, here is my story. It was 5 May 1973 and the day before the English soccer FA cup final; dad had purchased our very first colour TV to watch the great event featuring our local team Sunderland from the second division against the best team in England at that time Leeds united. I was a typical boy of fourteen who lived for football, cricket and field hockey, when I wasn't playing sport I was generally found to be playing on my bike or in the nearby woods with my mates. At school I was a good student who had a flare for the technical subjects. I was quiet and fairly shy. Friday night was the school disco night. I had watched Christine over many weeks; I fancied her like mad and had danced with her on a few occasions before I lost my nerve, and scuttled away from her. Egged on by my friends and given all sorts of tips of how get a girl, such as "the secret is to break the prey away from the herd" and "don't be nervous just go for it" I had only ever had two girl friends and the relationships had only lasted a couple of weeks, long enough to progress to the kissing, cuddling and fumbling stage. I took my opportunity to approach Christine whilst she guarded a collection of fizzy drinks whilst her friends went to the toilets. After an awkward start to my chat up, I managed to recover and invite her out on a date to the cinema, thank fully she accepted. Christine's friends returned and I withdrew back to my friends with a feeling of triumph. Later that night, Christine and I danced until the time seemed right and we kissed in a dark corner of the dance floor, I was so pleased to be invited to walk her home. I was now relaxed and feeling pleased with my self. We had a great time walking to her home. I was playing the clown and kept her amused. Outside her house we must have spent 30 minutes kissing and talking. Christine took me by surprise by stroking the groin area of my jeans, I reciprocated by stroking and fondling her breasts, before long my hand was probing inside her knickers probing and stroking, to be honest it was a bit of a fumble, it was my first exploration into this much talked about area of a girls anatomy. Christine seemed to be enjoying me touching her soft hairy vagina and my groin ached. Her porch light was turned on and we quickly corrected our selves, and I hastily departed with a promise to meet her on the following Thursday for our trip to the cinema. I felt as though life could not get any better, I had a date with the girl of my dreams and perhaps close to my first real sexual experiences and my local football team were appearing the cup final. On the morning of the football final, Mum had returned home very upset and tearful, I am ashamed to admit that I tried to ignore her unusual emotions because I was too excited about the football event to consider being a loving and caring son. The next morning I woke up so happy that it could have been Christmas morning; unbelievably Sunderland had won the cup. As I lay in bed I started to think of mum being upset the day before. I recalled how I had often caught mum and dad staring at me and on one occasion mum burst into tears. I selfishly hadn't let this interfere with my watching the soccer game on our first colour TV. My happiness started to subside, I lay there fearing that my parents had finally received my medical test results, my mind started to race, perhaps they were upset because the results showed that I had some incurable disease or something fatal like cancer, even though I wasn't really sure what cancer was. My first medical appoint with my local doctor (MO) had taken place almost a year earlier and the first diagnosis was that I had swallowed something sharp like a chicken bone or an egg shell or similar, that's why I was experiencing bleeding from my arse. After a few uncomfortable days the bleeding had stopped exactly as the doctor had predicted. When it started a few months later I was again taken back to see the doctor and this time he prescribed some tablets and he explained "that the renal passage was a difficult place for a wound to heal, perhaps the cut had been infected", and we were told "not to worry, it would take time to heal". On the third visit to the doctor he referred me to a specialist, the first specialist then referred me to a long list of various medical specialists. Over a number of months I went through some bizarre medical interviews and suffered some uncomfortable internal and external examinations, x rays, blood and fluid tests, we awaited the results. My fears and concerns were heightened on Sunday night, the day after the football game, dad told me that he and mum were taking me to the hospital the next day, dad never took time off work and he had never been with me for any of the other medical appointments, I concluded that I must have something really seriously wrong with me. No matter what questions I asked, I was given the same answer by mum and dad, "the doctor wants to talk with us" and "no I wasn't going to die and I didn't have cancer". All day mum looked misty eyed as though she was on the verge of bursting into tears. The doctor described lots of things that I hardly understood, babies born with anomalies called inter-sex babies. He explained that the majority of babies are born with xx or xy chromosomes, denoting them chromosomally at least, as a boy or girl and he went on to described how some people are born with a mosaic of chromosomes such as XXY, or XYY, or XO. After a long speech reassuring me that I was facing a tough time ahead and that they were confident everything would eventually work out for the best. I apologised that I didn't really understand what he was telling me. After a moment of silence and awkwardness he eventually stunned me by telling me "medically you are really 99% female". I don't remember anything else that was said to me, mum burst into tears and both mum and dad wrapped their arms around me. I walked into the hospital a young man; brash, athletic, confident, and living up to my parent's expectations, how was I expected to walk out of the hospital and understand I was now a girl and that everything would be alright. Now the biological details I was born with Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia (CAH), which in layman's terms means an overproduction of hormones in the adrenal gland causes masculinisation of the genitals in female infants. In my case I had a further abnormality, the vaginal passage was also found to be connected to my anal opening. My doctors explained that this is why my condition wasn't picked up and corrected at birth. My body looked like a baby boy. You have probably already guessed that I was menstruating through my arse. Intersex births have been estimated to number 1 in every 2000 births. In our society we are culturally constructed to understand and accept only two sexes, babies with intersex conditions are often "assigned" a sex shortly after birth, there are a small number like me who find out later in life. You may think that 1 in 2000 births seems a high ratio; I understand that clinicians have followed a policy of non-disclosure, preferring not to reveal the truth to intersex adults, children or their parents. This policy has only served to reinforce and create the taboos of society. To say nothing of create generations of potentially unhappy and confused intersex people. You have already guessed that I am now a woman, but you may wonder how doctors and parents decide sex assignment in children born with ambiguous genitals. I now understand that a variety of factors go into this decision making. Important goals in deciding sex assignment include preserving fertility where possible, ensuring good bowel and bladder function, preserving genital sensation, and maximizing the likelihood that the child will be satisfied with his or her assigned sex later in life. My penis was small (I was told that it was the similar size of a average seven year old) and my balls were like almonds tucked against my body, they had never dropped as I had grown older, I naively thought I was slow growing into puberty, and simply waiting for a growth spurt. I was told that research in America had shown that individuals with certain types of CAH conditions are more likely to be satisfied in later life when assigned as males, while individuals with other conditions are more likely to be satisfied when assigned as females. Mine was a complex case because of my age, I discovered that the doctors had shared the information of my diagnosis with my parent's a week earlier and that they taken part in the decision making process for the most appropriate sex to assign. Ultimately my parents followed the advice of the experts; I believe that it was this decision that eventually led to years of unhappiness for my parents and their divorce after I left home. For weeks I wandered around in a daze and totally confused, the reality of the situation was terrifying and the unshakeable emotional impact made me feel dizzy. I look back now and wonder how I didn't suffer some kind of mental breakdown. I couldn't accept that my parents had agreed to follow the various specialist and health authority recommendations that I should be assigned as a female. How could I be a girl? Home and school life was never the same again. I bombarded my parents with arguments, shouting, crying and tantrums, how could they agree to this decision. My angry objections were of the same theme "I don't want to be a girl. I'm a boy and want to do boy things. Not girl things." I continued to live as a boy in opposition of the advice given by the endocrinologist, psychologist, psychiatrist and a number of other ....ists that had entered my life. At the age of fourteen I knew what the basic physical differences were between boys and girls, but I didn't really understand what the subtle differences were. At one of my ...ists sessions I remember being shown a picture displaying 20 body silhouettes, the number 1 silhouette was of a extremely muscle bound masculine shaped male body, number 20 was a very curvaceous female form, when asked which shape I considered my body was closest too, I selected a straight sided male shape of number 8. My actual body shape was closest to a female shape number 13, I remember being horrified. The ...ists encouraged me to explore my own body for female features, I had smaller skull, nose, hands and feet than a boy, my hips and bottom were rounded rather than flat, I had no teenage hair growth on my face arms or legs, my neck had no Adams apple but my face had soft rounded features. I was shown that I had breast buds. I could look at a female face and a male face but I couldn't put into words the differences, my brain was telling me that I didn't look like a girl. The ...ists totally disagreed and encouraged me to take a honest look at my features, I had a small female skull, my forehead was flat and my eyes are positioned further forward on the face, the distance between my nose and lips is shorter than you find on a male and my lips were turned out, I was told that these are all classical female features. Boy's faces change from soft contours and girl like features to male faces during puberty this is caused by male testosterone. I was told the story of the Hijra community in India, intersex and male boy testes are castrated before puberty so their bodies did not develop testosterone, the boys live their lives as women and there faces remain child like and look like pretty young women. The message to me was that, I could not produce testosterone and my face would always have soft rounded female contours. Over the months that followed my resolve to remain male was slowly worn down, I was becoming exhausted by the mental strain I was experiencing a sense of separation from both girls and boys, my mind was in turmoil and the more I looked at my self the more I could see that my face could be a girl, my skin was soft and hairless, I was slim and 5feet 5inches tall, and perhaps under this male looking exterior a female core existed. I spent hours looking in a mirror, staring at myself. For fourteen years I had only ever seen a boy, now in the space of a few months I could see signs that perhaps my hairless baby face with a slight case of acne could actually be the face of a girl. "Mum, do I look like a girl to you?" I asked. The pause before she answered lasted too long and told me that she thought I did look like a girl. Mum replied in a typical neutral fashion "It is difficult for me to see you as a girl, but I can see that there is a girl hidden inside you." I spent days finding difficult and awkward questions to ask my parents, it was my way of tormenting them, asking questions such as "Do you want to call me daughter or refer to me as she or her" "Do you think I will make a good mother" "Mum what does sex feel like for a woman" "Mum do all women have dildo's and how often do women who have them use them?".....leading to "will you be buying me one?" This constant torrent of questions did nothing to improve my home life, the answers were normally diplomatic and middle of the road answers, it was only occasionally that I was answered with a "don't be ridiculous". The ...ists told me that I had been unfortunate to live by everybody's perception of me, I had been brought up by my parents as a boy, I was told that I was a boy, I dressed, lived and acted as a boy, so it was natural that everyone treated me as a boy. The gynaecologist told me that normally complex genital operations are undertaken when the body stops growing at the age of eighteen, but because I was basically female; the surgery wasn't that complex because they were basically moving my female organs to be in the correct place and my genitals were to be reconstructed. The medical team had assessed that my body should be ready for surgery by the age of sixteen, they had confidence that everything would work as a normal girl, and that it was very likely that I would be able to conceive a baby naturally. I really couldn't believe that they were telling me a boy, that I could have a baby! Apparently this was one of the major factors in the inter-sex male to female decision making process; I could never have been a fully functional male. I felt sick and disgusted every time this was discussed; I told them that I would rather not think about operations, I tried to blank it from my thoughts. I was faced with all sorts of difficult situations; I was encouraged by the entire team of special...ists to make the transition to female as early as possible. I was fourteen and confused, I only had my parents to provide help and guidance, although my relationship with my parents was unbearable, my parents and the experts insisted that everything would work out and I would be helped every step of the way. I felt as though I was the only one swimming against the tide of this decision to make me female. I considered running away from home but I no idea where to go, I had no money and the thought of running away was equally scary. It was a slow process but I started to follow their instructions and attended a schedule of sessions alone with the ...ists. I had no one else to turn to for advice, I couldn't bring myself to talk to my friends because I couldn't guess what their reaction might be, I felt trapped and that I was already beaten, my future had been decided. At my first sessions I sulked and wouldn't respond to the...ists, but after a few weeks I realised that it was easier to play along with the strange sessions than it was to sit and sulk for hour after hour. I was given lots of advice to help me with the transition, I was advised to start wearing girls' clothes at home and read girls books, try to make friends with girls at school, spend more time with girls and I was to choose a girls name for myself etc. The ...ists explained the sexual and biological workings of the female form, and we chatted about boy girl relationships and how each sex handled their feelings towards the opposite sex. In 1973 trans-gender and gay issues were largely unknown or understood, the industrial North east of England was not at the forefront of a liberal society. I attended three sessions a week and the ....ists would arrange lots of training exercises developed to ensure that I stayed mentally balanced whilst subtly moving my way of thinking from that of a boy to a girl. I remember some silly role playing situations and some of the sessions didn't seem to make a lot of sense at the time, for example some of the sessions and games concentrated on my awareness of smell, colour, art and things like fabric selection, I now understand that my female senses were being honed and developed to that of a normal girl would have experienced at fourteen. Some sessions were obvious female training lessons, such as basic cooking and sewing, poise and mannerisms. On other occasions I would spend time looking through clothing catalogues on the pretext that I was choosing girls outfits for my sister, I was encouraged to choose which outfit I thought my sister would look good wearing, I was often invited to wear girls clothes during a sessions or sometimes invited to go shopping for a few outfits for my sister. Their plans to nurture my interest in girls clothes and fashions had failed, I flatly refused to wear girls clothes, or practice applying make-up or go shopping in girls shops, this was my last defence against the enormous tide pushing me toward the female gender, wearing boys clothes was my only way of maintaining a male identity. Throughout all of this, I still had to deal with a menstruation cycle and this was no easy task as a boy, I cannot recall that I experienced all of the symptoms that I had later in life such as water retention, mood swings and tender breasts. All I recall is the abdominal pain, which felt as though someone had tied a rope between my kidneys and was intent on pulling them together, this pain was fairly constant over three or four days, but interspersed with moments of severe pain of cramping. All I ever wanted to do was lay down with a hot water bottle clasped to my waist. Coping with the bleeding from my arse was all equally difficult, I even tried tampons, these proved unsuccessfully because my vaginal passage was too close to the outside of my body. The only solution to soak up the blood was a Dr White towel, which was about an 1 inch thick cotton/gauze towel, that was held in position by 2 hooks that hung from an elastic belt that went around my waist, these types of pad were never intended to fit an arse shape, so I had to use additional cotton wool between my arse cheeks. The modern day wafer thin panty pads weren't available in the 1970's. I hated the unplanned event and that I was unable to control the flow; I hated waking at night with the unwelcome wet sensation and stained sheets. If this was womanhood I didn't want it, I hated it. I look back and realise that I was being mentally reprogrammed by the...ists and my parents; my parents were patient but resolute and firm with me, my only sister who was two years younger strangely seemed to accept the situation almost immediately without too many questions, my sister Karen was slowly becoming my best friend and confidant. None of my friends knew anything other than I was regularly taking time off school for medical check ups. I continued playing football and hockey at school but my education had ground to a halt, my school reports were bad and said that I had a "lack of attention" and that I was "constantly distracted" hardly surprising given the circumstances. I did try to make friends with a few girls but this proved to be totally unsuccessful, my heart wasn't into the idea and I was concerned what my male friends would think. Girls at school were people my friends and I tried to make fun of, tease or ridicule, its hardly surprising I couldn't make friends with anyone.......and now I had to believe that I was a girl. I had been brought up to believe that males were far superior to women, instead of looking forward to a life of freedom and a bread winner, I imagined that I was destined to follow the life of my mother whose main occupation was a cook, housekeeper and to look after a family...was this really what my future held, because I really couldn't accept those thoughts. The months passed bye, Christmas that year was strange, all of my presents were unisex, board games, jigsaws, puzzles, books an artists paint set etc. I wasn't given any football strip, boys books or sports equipment. This was the first time I had experienced an unhappy Christmas, until this year Christmas mornings had always seemed magical. My parents had never enticed or forced me to wear girl's clothes, although under an instruction from the ...ists they had left an assortment of girl's clothes in new set of drawers in my room, the idea was that I could start to wear them in my own privacy. I often through the draws out of my room normally during a tantrum, but they always returned the following day. I refused to touch the girls' clothes never mind wear them. My parents' attitude was that I should try wearing them in my own time, when ever I felt ready. It was almost Easter 1974 (10 months after the news broke) , my parents thought that it would be good to go on a family holiday for a couple of weeks to break us out of the unhealthy atmosphere at home, a holiday would bring us together. I really looked forward to the holiday it meant not seeing the ......ists, we travelled a few hours South from our home to a holiday camp in a seaside resort of Scarborough. We arrived at the holiday camp late at night, I was so excited for the next morning to arrive and I had promised to take my sister to the swimming pool. I woke early and in typical boy mode was straight out of bed ready for the day to start, I reached down on the floor to pull on my jeans and shirt that I had dropped on the floor the night before, they were gone. I opened my suitcase to find that my carefully selected holiday clothes and Sunderland football strip had been replaced by a selection of girls' outfits. I later realised that some of the outfits were the ones I had selected from the clothing catalogues in one of the ...ists sessions some weeks earlier. Three days of hell followed, I was inconsolable, lost for words and for the very first time I was violent toward my parents hitting out because I felt as though I was at my lowest point. My parents were generally calm, patient and concerned throughout my tantrums, apart from the hitting out episode when my father held my arms and pinned me to the floor until I promised to stop lashing out. I refused to take off my pyjamas or leave the caravan for a full three days. Once again I was worn down and had been out manoeuvred, perhaps my will was finally broken or perhaps I had accepted that the time had come when I would have to dress as a girl. My parents and sister constantly tried to persuade me that nobody would know me in Scarborough if I was dressed as a girl. I reluctantly looked through my suitcase, stubbornly refusing offers of help from Karen. I discarded any pastel colours or feminine styles. The suitcase didn't contain any trousers or shorts I was told that this was a precaution in case my little man protruded through the material. I finally selected and agreed to wear a denim skirt and plain black tee shirt these clothes probably had the most masculine feel to them. I had little choice with the femininity of my underwear they were all pinks, lemon and white with various motifs. I chose a white pair with small flowers and pink edging. I chose not to wear any of the bras, it was my way of a making a feeble protest, my bust had developed, and my breast buds were only just visible through the figure hugging tee shirt. Many times during the last year I had considered how this moment would feel and look, so seeing the image of me in the mirror wasn't really a shock, I didn't experience any thrills that many transvestites experience. I stood in front of a full length mirror and I felt disgusted with myself as I examined the clothes, the cut and feeling was so different, the black tee was close fitting even under my arms and the rounded lower neck line left my bare chest feeling exposed, the skirt wasn't a perfect fit I could move the waist position up and down my body by 6 inches. I lifted the skirt to examine the knickers, in the 1970's the school girl fashion was mini-briefs that were cut high on the leg, and I tried to push my penis around to make it less noticeable. I thought wearing girls clothes was always going to be a big psychological problem to me, in the event the actual putting on a wearing the garments proved to be the biggest difficulty, I wasn't sure whether girls tucked the tee shirt into a skirt or left it loose on the outside, I fussed around trying to decide; finally I tucked it inside to help cope with the loose waist band of the skirt. I had no idea whether I suppose to wear a slip under this skirt; I knew my sister didn't always wear a slip, what was the factor that determined whether to wear a slip or not? I couldn't figure out the reason so I discarded the slip because it looked too feminine, I realised if I was to carry off this charade I still had a lot to learn. I looked down at my shaking bare legs and the white ankle socks and a pair of brown summer sandals with a strap and buckle. Because of the openness of the skirt my legs felt longer and exposed. What was I supposed to do with my hair? I combed my hair straight down to make it look cared for and to help to slightly cover my face. I was grief- stricken wearing these clothes, was this sorrowful vision in front of me really my future? My heart was pounding and with a great hesitation I walked from behind the privacy curtain that divided the caravan, my parents behaved as though they were looking at the most natural sight in the world, seeing their son dressed in girl's clothes. Dad gathered his keys and mum fussed around picking up things to put in her handbag and they headed for the door without making a single comment. Karen took my hand and walked with me toward the door, "You'll be fine" she said. My parents had planned that we walk a short distance to the camp shop and back, this first expedition was intended to build my confidence and so that I could see that people's reactions toward me were normal. The purpose of the visit was to buy a plastic air-fix model, partly as a reward for a boy and partly to give me something to do inside caravan. On our return to the caravan, I argued that everyone was looking at me, in fact I had realised that I had not been identified as a freak or pointed out as something different, the walk had actually been totally uneventful, I had spent most of my time looking for peoples reactions, but there were none. In a feeble protest I took off the clothes and returned to my pyjamas. I was fortunate that in the seventies long hair was in fashion, my boys cut was a fairly basic cut just below collar length in a disorganised jumble of hair. On the trips out of the caravan that followed, I was further convinced that I would be less noticeable if my mother could tie my hair back with hair clips in a female style that looked less rugged and more cared for, I agreed to wear the clips but I refused the alternative suggestion to have my hair cut professionally or curled into a fashionable female style. After a few days I became less self conscious and the female clothes became less of an issue because I had no choice, nobody knew me and I was starting to enjoy the holiday, my sister and I explored all of the camp activity areas and were having a reasonably fun time. One day my sister and I were in the camp amusement arcade when two other girls approached us, the girls started to chat with my sister while I concentrated on the electronic game trying my best to ignore them. Without hesitation my sister told them "we are sisters, my name is Karen and her name is Julie" (I finally had a girl's name). Eventually, I reluctantly joined in the conversation with the two girls, my insides felt as though they were tied in knots and my mouth was dry, I hadn't talked to any people other than my family whilst dressed like this. Amazingly, I seemed to switch into talking and acting as a girl, it seemed like a challenge to pass myself off as a female and I had the impression that I was being accepted by these two girls, as the conversation continued I became braver and braver. The four of us stayed together for the rest of the day cycling, playing table tennis and spending time together in the adventure playground. We met up again with Debbie and Susan during the days that followed, the routine was fairly repetitive playing on the camp activities, and I manage to talk and play with other girls that we met, once or twice I lost my nerve and I made an excuse to go back to the caravan to visit the toilet and recover my courage. Much to the delight of my mum, I was slowly working my way through all of my holiday clothes, that entailed all sorts of combinations of feminine colours and styles, I had been used to wearing dark male colours so it was a big step to be seen outside wearing pastel and bright floral patterns, I felt that female clothes were designed to attract attention rather than normal boys clothes that blended into my male group. I slowly became used to not having my shoulders covered, and how to cope with straps falling off my shoulder, and I learned how to control a floaty skirt on a breezy day, I hadn't realised that I would be faced with so many minor challenges just when wearing clothes. Mum tried her very best to help me with the selection of which clothes to wear and she desperately wanted to be involved in my first experiences as a female. I was obnoxious toward mum; I did not want to feel that I was consorting with the enemy. Secretly I listened to her advice but refused acknowledge the advice or asked her questions I had about the clothes or life as a female. Mum had obviously thought that I would rely on her female experiences as in a normal mother and daughter relationship, I could see that my rejection of help was hurting her, I felt as though I was repaying her for my suffering, this was a further example of how our relationship had deteriorated. Instead of asking mum for advice I resorted to whispering questions to Karen , so mum couldn't hear or become involved. My younger sister helped and advised me and provided lots of the answers to my questions, in basic enough language for my male brain to understood, Karen explained some of my basic queries "you don't have to wear a slip, but it's a must when you wear a skirt or dress material that is see through or floaty and could be lifted in a breeze" One female item I found difficult to cope with was a hand bag, one night I was persuaded to carry a hand bag on an evening when we visited a cabaret show. My first problem was I had no idea what to put inside and secondly I kept on leaving the dam bag behind, boys have no need for such things. My mother commented on how "lovely I looked" wearing a dress and tights. I dissolved into another tantrum, so the family decided that compliments toward me were banned for the rest of the holiday. As the days went by, dressing as a girl became easier, I became more comfortable with the situation and I started to remember some of the ...ists lessons on poise and how to conduct my self as a female. Changing masculine mannerisms was perhaps my biggest challenge, the ....ists had explained that I had adopted a typical male "determined" walking style and they had noted that my arm and facial expressions were very masculine and animated, whereas females don't screw there faces into different expressions they tend to express themselves mainly with eye and mouth movement. I was told that my walking style was "long strides with a quick motion with my arms held almost in a locked position" I was told to "use shorter strides at a slower speed and I was encouraged to observe women's swinging and free arm movements and how woman raise their arms to protect their breasts". I was not to mimic models on a catwalk women don't really walk in that style. When I talked my arms and hand movements were very animated, in an attempt to correct this animation I had been through lessons were I simply had to talk without moving my hands. Although my voice tone was naturally female, the ...ists analysis had concluded that I was disguising and masking my natural high female tone by talking with a fast and monotone speech pattern to make me sound male; when I followed my training "speak slower and put more life into your tone" I had little problem with a credible female voice. Spending time with Karen, Susan and Debbie was the best poise, mannerism and speech training I could have, I mimicked their way of moving, sitting, walking and standing, and I practiced how not to make exaggerated facial expressions and the adjustment to my speech was relatively easy. I was so surprised that the training had started to make sense even though I had dismissed the lessons as being a bit of game and useless. It was as though a switch in my head had suddenly switched to the "on female" position. I think the male to female switch was working because I was forced into girl mode and for the first time in my life I was spending all of my time with girls and they were accepting me without question. Although it was most difficult to comprehend I had the realisation that I must appear to be a female, otherwise I wouldn't have been accepted amongst these girls. Our routine to meet Susan and Debbie was disrupted one day when it rained, Susan and Debbie's parents invited Karen and I on to a trip into Scarborough for a look around, my parents readily agreed. Little did I appreciate that I was about to enter a new world of female experiences and awkward situations. To avoid a rain storm we took refuge in a sea view caf?, after many fizzy drinks I gained my first experience of a ladies toilet, and my first toilet queue. I thought it odd that Debbie insisted on sharing a toilet cubicle, but I later discovered that it was a common practice between young girls, I managed to take my knickers down quickly leaving my skirt to cover my lap and hide my little man, unfortunately Debbie caught me out when I pulled my knickers all the way down to my ankles as a male would sitting on a loo, Debbie jokingly said with a little innuendo "Julie, you do like to spread your legs?" I didn't really understand the joke until it was Debbie's turn and I noticed that she pulled her knickers to a position above her knees, keeping her knees closer together. I watched curiously how Debbie used toilet roll to wipe herself, I don't think she realised that I hadn't. This was another lesson learnt; even the position of my knickers whilst having a pee and not wiping myself could give me away as being a male. Later we visited clothes shop after clothes shop, I followed the other girls technique's of touching, examining and commenting on their personal likes and dislikes of various styles of garments. I was browbeaten by both Susan and Debbie who insisted that I would look good in the silk Chinese style dress, I eventually agreed to try on this dress and then other outfits followed. It was a real crazy feeling, I didn't want to try on more girls' clothes but I felt a confidence boost because I got told I looked great in some of the clothes. In this shopping environment I felt as though it was inescapable that I had to join in and try on some clothes, I took a little consolation from my predicament from the fact that I had started to recognise when I looked awful wearing something or when it looked OK. This pastime was fine in shops with individual changing rooms and then horror of horrors I was faced with a single communal changing room full of woman of all shapes and sizes in various states of undress, a boy shouldn't be in here staring at women tugging and pulling at their bodies to squeeze into outfits. Fortunately in this particular shop I had only chosen a single skirt to try on, my sister Karen sensed my unhappiness in this communal changing room and was quick to help me through a quick change act to try on the skirt whilst hiding the bulge of my little man in my knickers, and to escape from the changing room as fast as possible. I don't recall how the skirt looked; I only recall looking in the mirror and seeing my red blushing cheeks. The day continued with other girly pastimes, checking out the cosmetic counter and free samples, I tried on a pair of high heel shoes and hobbled around like Bambi even I could see that it was a funny situation. Susan even took us into a bride dress shop and persuaded the assistant that we were searching for brides maid dresses, once again I was in an inescapable situation, if I had refused (which I wanted too) I would have blown Susan's story because she had said that we were all bridesmaids. I was persuaded to try on one dress. During the last week I had been looking at myself in a mirror and seeing a reflection of a boy in girl's clothes, as I said before over the last year I had imagined what that image would look like and so wasn't really a shock. However, I never imagined an image of me wearing a bridesmaid dress, this time I was shocked into a realisation of how feminine I looked in this cream taffeta dress, Karen broke the family rule of no compliments on my appearance, "You look gorgeous" Susan and Karen agreed. Back at the holiday camp the three girls and I were allowed to walk to the beach alone, we rested on a bench overlooking the cold green and blue coloured North Sea. I hadn't noticed but we had been attracting the attention of a group of boys, apparently a couple of them had been showing off doing wheelies and stunts on their bikes. Susan was teasing me that a blond boy was definitely trying to impress me; I couldn't help but stare at the boys in a stunned angry silence, Debbie closed my legs together, after she had realised they had been looking up my skirt whilst I was sitting with my legs astride in a most unladylike manner. I had looked up girls skirts and experienced cheap thrills, (I think I remember experiencing an erection, but looking back I am not sure whether I have imagined the feeling because it may not have been possible), but here I was acting as a girl for one week and now I was feeling angry because a boy dared to stare up my skirt! Susan and Debbie started to discuss how we could strike up a conversation with these "hot" boys, I simply froze at the thought, Debbie decided to ask them directions to the nearest shop, this was enough of an invitation for 3 of the boys who came over to talk, the other 4 boys stayed in the background. Debbie and Susan did all the talking, "yes we were on holiday", "not related just friends", the small talk conversation continued giving home town details etc. I began to regret their impetuousness, the three boys were standing right in front of us and although they tried to act disinterested, I could tell that they were eying us like slobbering dogs, stealing glances at every opportunity then mumbling some idiocy and chuckling. I made my excuses to make my escape with Karen, much to Debbie and Susan's objections. The blond haired boy followed Karen and me, he was cycling alongside us, and was chatting away to us, I was afraid to look up for fear of being exposed, I was petrified but enthralled by this boy's behaviour. He seemed to be entranced by me, I remember glancing into his eyes it was an unusual look, it wasn't an eye to eye contact like what I was used to boy to boy, he was looking at my body, he was looking at a girl and that girl was me. I chose to ignore him and I only spoke to Karen about reasons why we had to hurry back the caravan, my flimsy panic stricken reasons must have seemed to have been unbelievable babble of nonsense. The reality of the situation made me frightened; partly because I thought somehow he might know I was really a boy, surely he could see through my charade, he seemed intent on developing a boy girl relationship, I was horrified at the thought. I took hold of Karen's hand and started to run, abandoning any thoughts of maintaining a girl demeanour, speed was essential in my petrified state. Running was a waste of time he simply cycled faster and shouted "Can we meet later or tomorrow", all I could think to say was "No thank you" the last sarcastic words I heard from him were "I suppose sex is out of the question" this made me run faster. Karen and I took refuge in the safety of the caravan, Karen excitedly told mum and dad what had happened, she had been far more observant than I had been, she explained that he had winked at me and he constantly had tried to catch my attention, Karen teased that when I caught the boys looking up my skirt that I jumped off the bench and stamped my foot in anger, (little realizing that it was a typical feminine gesture of frustration) but other than that I had acted just like a demure little girl. I was physically shaking whilst she told the story, thankfully that was the last I saw of the blond boy. At my first counselling session after the holiday, I overheard my parents telling one of my councillors that the holiday had been a great success and that I had made great progress which they summarised, adding that I had reverted back to my boy clothes as soon as I had reached home after the holiday. I was pleased that my mum and dad had enjoyed the holiday, however, the pleasure from our happy family holiday was about be shattered. The next reprogramming shock tactic was about to be unveiled to me, we had started our Easter holiday before my school had been officially broken up at the end of term. My school headmaster and headmistress un- expectantly appeared in the councillors' office accompanied by my mum and dad. They proceeded to explain that whilst I had been on holiday the whole school had been told of my situation, letters had been sent to parents, special classes had been delivered to explain in simple terms intersex children and the XXY and XYY chromosomes etc. Mum and dad explained that a number of my friends' parents had been in contact and offered their support, they all encouraged me to be brave and everybody was there to help me through the difficult early days of the new term. I sat with tears streaming down my face, they insisted that it was time to start the new term as a girl, I was assured and reassured that everyone will understand and that everything will be OK. Arrangements had been made to provide me with additional support, my favourite councillor Jean would be in school in case I needed help with any awkward situations. I was reminded that it was only seven months until my sixteenth birthday and sometime after that I would be ready for my operation. The ....ists considered that the time was right to for me to take the next step in my transition, more days of tantrums followed, I threatened not to go back to school, but this threat was really shallow because my friends and the whole school now knew of my situation, by not going back to school I would have totally isolated my self. Before my planned return to school my parents had arranged for three of my best male friends to visit me at home whilst I was dressed as a girl. These visits were intended to be an ice breaker, but had simply been a very frightening and an awkward situation. How was I face my friends dressed as a girl, it was strange but I actually agreed to meet with my mates, I had thought a lot of whether to discuss my problem with them, this gave me the opportunity to tell them my confused feelings. What to wear was a difficult decision, in the end I chose three different outfits because my feelings changed after each meeting. Dave was the first to visit and I wore the denim skirt and a masculine loose fitting navy coloured tee shirt, he pretended as though there was nothing different, this was not the reaction I expected, I wanted him to be initially shocked or horrified but still to be my mate. Steve was the next to visit, so this time I tried to extract the reaction that I wanted, I tied back my hair, chose a figure hugging strappy red coloured top and black box panel pleated skirt. Once again Steve behaved as though nothing was wrong he avoided eye contact and asked no questions about how I was feeling or coping with the circumstances, they guys were obviously as confused as me. I am not sure why but in preparation for Steve's visit I enlisted Karen's help, perhaps I wanted a more severe reaction from him, I needed him to laugh or be shocked into silence. Karen brushed and fixed my hair I wore a dress and tights (panty hose), and she applied a light eye make up and mascara. Now I was really petrified dressed as feminine as I had ever appeared, but I was ready to shock. Kenny came into my bedroom, he stood silent "I see that your ready to play football" he joked, I had failed to shock him, he seemed relaxed and gave lots of good honest opinions, on how he thought school would be tough to start with, but it would be OK after a while and he joked with me about how he would swap clothes with me to gain access to the girl's gym changing rooms. My sleep pattern was very disturbed; when I did sleep I endured a recurring nightmare. I was in my classroom, just standing there with my head bowed in utter humiliation as the laughter slowly built into a roaring crescendo until everyone was rolling over in sheer hilarity while pointing at a girlish looking boy that had the audacity to try to be a girl in public. My friends began teasing and berating me as a queer. Tears were streaming down my face as all the kids in the class began to surround me and taunt me, calling me girly queer. I broke free and ran to the door. It was locked there was no way out. The teacher was helpless to intervene as the kids shamed and humiliated me, my former friends were right up against me and began lifting up my skirt and commenting on my knickers. They struck up a mantra: "Queer, queer, queer!" I spun around looking for escape. Everywhere I was met with the disapproving reproaches of my old chums and the girls in the class alike. "Queer, queer, queer!" continued the incessant chant. I finally just fell to the floor and curled up, sobbing like a little baby girl, that's when I would wake from my dream in a cold sweat. After a sleepless night, I dressed and I arrived at the school gates as planned after the school lessons had started, I was accompanied by my councillor Jean and my mum, and we met with the headmistress who escorted us to my class room. Once again I was being groomed and reassured every step of the way to my class room, mum was fussing with my hair ties and then my skirt, I had pulled the skirt down to cover my legs as much as possible, mum adjusted it to the correct position on my waist. The skirt hem lengths for school uniforms in the seventies was above the knee or higher, my uniform was a dark green coloured skirt and blazer, white socks, white tailored blouse and I had finally submitted to wearing a bra because the shirt material was slightly see through. My class contained boys and girls, both sexes were together for most lessons but streamed into typing, cookery or needlework whilst the boys did technical drawing, wood or metal work lessons. I was given the option as to whether I would like to follow the boy or girl lessons. I am not sure that I chose correctly but I opted to stay with the boy stream because I naively hoped my male friends would remain friends. I was shaking as we approached the class room door, without any hesitation Jean took my hand and marched me through the door, all heads turned to my direction and Jean somehow manoeuvred my frozen body to sit in a chair, Jean left me and sat at the rear of the class. All I could focus on were the silent blank faces that had greeted me; I had imagined to be met with laughter or a look of horror, but not silence. The English teacher welcomed Julie to the class and encouraged the class to welcome me as though I was a new first day pupil to the school, she arranged for me to be chaperoned by 2 of the girls for the rest of the week. The teacher said that it was to be considered an added bonus that the class had known and loved Michael, it was a privilege to have known him, but this was the start of a new chapter in Julie's life and that the whole class was to help and support me. I could only focus my eyes on the teacher or the floor; I was conscious of my classmates turning to steal a stare at me. The lesson seemed to take forever to finish, my chaperons were asked to stay with me in the classroom and anyone else who wanted to stay behind with me. I had already been told that I would not have to make an appearance in the school yard until I felt ready to face more people. Kenny, Dave, Steve and my two girl chaperons stayed with me. After a few encouraging words on how brave I was and how well I was doing the conversation drifted towards a normal school topics of discussion, it was as though they didn't want to talk about my problems. Getting through the last few months of term was a real struggle and school became an incredibly lonely place; apart from Kenny all of my male friends had one by one deserted me. I suffered daily bullying in varying degrees, the boys would give me a sexy whistle and I regularly had my bottom pinched or slapped and skirt lifted. Using the girl's toilets proved particularly hazardous. My worst school day humiliation was when a group of girls pinned me against the wall in the toilets, as I unsuccessfully wriggled to try and free my self I felt a hand move to lift up my skirt and grasp the waist band of my knickers and tugged them down to my knees, my blouse was unbuttoned and my bra lifted above my teenage lumps, the whole group of girls chortled and laughed at my predicament. My nearly ex-girlfriend Christine pushed through the crowd and rubbed my cock and made sarcastic remarks about its size. Christine had suffered her own form humiliation from friends because she had once had a crush on me before my transition had started. Christine hadn't spoken to me since I stood her up on our date, whilst in my shell shocked state after the news was broken to me. When they had finished with my degradation I locked myself in the sanctity of a cubicle to recover and adjust my clothes. I cried and waited for lunchtime to finish, had my dream been a premonition or had I experienced d?j? vu. I returned to class as though nothing had happened; I didn't want to give the bullies any satisfaction of how upset and shaken I really felt. After that terrible experience I restricted my visits to the toilets and timed my visits to take place during the middle of a lesson, because if I visited during a break period, girls were around and a visit to the toilet was like a being in a specimen jar with girls peering over the top of toilet cubicle or angling compact mirrors under the door, they used any means to catch a view of the semi-naked freak. Shortly after the forced strip episode I noticed that the girls became more verbal with insults such as "ugly bitch", "little tits show us your cock" "monster", "hermaphrodite" etc, and both sexes found it amusing when I responded when someone called "Michael", I couldn't help but look toward the call. I did manage to ignore a nickname, I had been christened "Julie ball-cock", or simply "ball-cock" for short, unfortunately these names were used by a large number of the kids. What I found very strange and difficult to understand was how girl's attitudes changed when they saw boys picking on me, the girls became defensive toward me as though they had accepted me into the female club and the sisterhood defended any female against the male species. After the girls had rescued me from male bullying, it would be only be moments after the boys had left me alone, the same girls would pull out my hair ties or clips, or stamp a shoe print on my white socks, I considered that it was the girl's way of making sure that I understood my lowly place in the female club. I learnt to realise that at school some boys make girls life a living hell of constant humiliation and all the time they think they're being cool, had I really been the same. Jean tried hard to help me fit in at school, she listened to my problems and tried to help me counteract the criticism of how I looked and dressed. I stopped wearing pony tails, and changed from wearing children's style white socks and underwear to young woman's underwear and tights (panty hose). I exchanged my flat shoes to shoes with a kitten heel, I was taught to apply mascara, eye liner, nail polish and subtle eye shadow, and I had my ears pierced so I was able to wear gold studs that school allowed. My mousey brown hair was styled and dyed with blond highlights. The style of skirt worn by the majority of girls was a figure hugging short skirt instead the longer pleated type that I wore. I even resorted to pad out my bra with tissue to add a little shape to by bust, for a couple of days I even tried wearing mini skirts, but I had to wear a girdle to hold down my little man, the girdle was way too uncomfortable so I abandoned wearing mini skirts. I tried to vary my style of dress to fit in with the crowd, one week I would look sophisticated like a professor's secretary and the next week I would look like a school tart, regardless of how I changed my appearance the new look simply became the next source of amusement and ridicule to my fellow students. I was a freak, the doctors were telling me that my body was that of a female, but the girls at school didn't accept me as a female because they saw me as a boy wearing girls clothes, to them I was a boy. The boys at school wouldn't accept me as a boy because they considered me a girl who had masqueraded as a boy for 15 years, to them I was back were I belonged as a girl. My only relief from the school bullies was truancy, or visits to the ...ists, it was suggested by my councillors that I move schools or better still move to another town, but my parents couldn't afford to move house and they thought that moving school was a only short term solution to my problems. During my sessions with the ...ists they always concentrated on the positives from school. I continued to enjoy the sports, and I was eventually accepted as a member of the school female hockey team, and I learnt to play and enjoy netball, both teams really did accept me as a player because I was athletic, physical and good, but friendship never followed. I was unaware at the time but, the local woman's netball association called an "extraordinary meeting" of members to discuss whether to allow me compete in the schools woman's league competitions, apparently I was given dispensation to be able to wear shorts instead of the regulation netball skirt and knickers they were more worried about what they called "decorum" than my feelings, I played GD (Goal defence) and really enjoyed the game I was the most competitive of the seven players in our school team. Our end of season team photo was the first of my taken as a girl. At my school I wasn't allowed to use the girls gym changing room, this avoided me being embarrassed instead had my own personal room for gym changing facilities, a former janitor's room that had been emptied for my use, it was commonly known as the "ball cocks room". The most awkward situations arose when we visited other schools for away matches, normally I changed at our school and travelled in a tracksuit, one memorable situation arose at an away school, I was mistakenly led by a teacher through a busy boys changing room on route to the mini-bus after the game. I was wearing my netball clothes and plaited hair, I would have been terrified had it been a girls changing room but I didn't mind being in a boys. The reaction of the partially dressed boys diving for cover hiding from the girl walking past still makes me laugh when I think of it. My only girl friend was Beverley, she was a little strange looking and was not helped by her heavy spectacles and out of fashion motherly clothing, Beverly was generally found to be alone during school breaks and lunchtime and we would meet up a try to make ourselves scarce from the masses. We used to talk openly about my sessions with the ....ists, and I actually believe I helped Beverly to resolve some of her own problems and passed on makeup hints that I was picking up at my Cosmetology sessions. The ...ists had been correct in there predictions, there was no doubt that my body was changing I was approaching 16 years old, my features were more rounded, my hips were developing curves my bust was growing very slowly, I looked at boys of my own age and there faces were changing and they were growing facial hair, I was starting to realise that I wasn't the same as them and perhaps I was "99% female". At home I had agreed that my male clothes be given away, it didn't matter too much because I had practically become a recluse whilst at home, avoiding trips outside wherever possible, and there was no way I could ever be seen as boy otherwise I would have been bullied even more and probably beaten. During my sessions with ....ists I started to question them about my future, the operation and beyond, I queried how long the councillors be around and what would happen if I had any problems. I was told that I would be free from the ...ists one year after the operation. I sat my `O' level examinations at school but as I expected I faired very poorly, my only good results were in art and woodwork, these were two subjects I didn't have to study for formally, my natural skills were enough to give me good results. November 1974, seventeen months after initial diagnosis, I lay in a Charing Cross (London) a specialist hospital recovery room hardly able to move, this was my third visit to the hospital the pre-op nerves had disappeared my major thoughts were how lousy I felt. The surgical site had an ice bag on it, and I could see 2 drain lines and the line to the catheter all covered in a net-like pair of underwear. I had a horrible bloodied pad on the underside and the area was all swollen. I was sure I could still feel that my penis was still connected. I had a feel around, all I could see was the top of the area where the labia had been constructed, the penis feeling was a phantom, and it was gone. It would be 10 days later that the catheter had been disconnected and I was able to slowly walk out of the hospital, and it was a further 6 weeks before the discomfort really started to subside. The operation had been declared a success; after the bandaging had been removed I was told that my vagina would look as it should after the bruising and swelling went down, I felt numb and partially relieved it was all over. I was still struggling with my thoughts of why couldn't I have been a regular boy. One lasting memory of my time spent in hospital was how I was treated by the staff, I was treated as a girl with a problem, the ...ists had always treated me as a boy with a problem. One particular conversation stands out, a nurse happily told me that the length of my vaginal passage was 5 ?" long, which is the average length, so intercourse should feel totally natural. I was too tired and drugged to be annoyed with anyone. I had no intention of letting any male anywhere near me for sex. Many people might find it strange but the loss of my penis wasn't the life defining moment that you may expect, I hadn't developed the same attachment to my penis that a grown male had, I had never been able to masturbate, and I had never had an erection, and I had only used the penis for urinating, my feeling of loss was probably closer to the feeling I would had if I had lost a finger. The doctors had explained that my feelings of a horny sensation had actually been my internal vagina being aroused by sexually stimulating thoughts, my horny feelings were a girl's experience not that of a boy, and it was very likely that I had probably experienced an orgasm. In many ways loosing my penis had taken away a hindrance and nuisance bump, I would now be able to wear trousers and a swimming costume, I would have no concerns undressing in female company and I would be less concerned about my skirts lifting in the wind and exposing a bump in my knickers. After a week of nurses treating the vaginal and arse areas, I was given the task of lubricating the vaginal and anal passages with an antiseptic lotion, there was no pleasure inserting this ? inch diameter dilator (dildo style application implement) every 4 hours and it had to stay inside for 15 minutes, I was totally unconvinced that in the future that this activity was supposed to give me pleasure, it hurt too much. One event that caught me by surprise was my first pee, I must have been day dreaming during my body biology sessions with the doctors or perhaps they simply didn't tell me but I was surprised to find that my pee came from my clitoris and not my vagina. I look back and realise just how very naive of a boy I was aged sixteen, I actually thought that all female bodily excretions came from holes; I knew that I would menstruate and thought I would pee through the same hole. The nurses were very patient and helpful toward me, they taught me all of the basics in female hygiene and care. The basic things a mother would naturally teach her daughter I didn't have a clue, because my relationship with my mother was so bad I refused to listen. I got the simplest of things wrong, such as wiping my self after a pee in the wrong direction; I didn't know that girls are taught to wipe from the top down to avoid wiping anal bacteria up. After about 6 months I was free of post operation drugs (my periods had been suppressed by the drugs) and I was now, left with my normal hormone treatment for my Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia condition, my body had started to function as expected and I had menstruated through my vagina which was far easier to control than a bleeding arse, using a tampon was a synch. The sessions with the counsellors and ...ist were changing, they were originally structured to program and help me cope as a girl/woman, the post-op sessions started focussing on relationships, babies and future life as a woman. My post-op tests had revealed that I was fertile and I could conceive naturally, although I may have to deliver a baby by caesarean section, this was all dependant on how my pelvic muscles healed. The thought of ever having a baby was all too difficult to comprehend by my male brain. Life was really miserable for me I had left school and I stayed at home as a recluse and did nothing in between my ...ists sessions. I spent most of my time in my room, watching TV, making and painting airfix models that my parents bought me. I spent hours occupying myself with a water colour paints set, my best paintings were if I was copying a still object, creative painting in such a torturous mental state was nearly impossible. My wardrobe was full of girl's clothes but I adopted a uniform of jeans and a favourite dark male coloured jumper or tee shirt depending on the weather and temperature. My home life throughout the last 2 years had been a disaster, although my parents, grandmother and one close Aunt had been supportive toward me throughout this difficult time, my behaviour was terrible, all that I had given them in return for their patience was tantrums and abuse, we had got ourselves into a real rut. I thrived on self pity, and I started skipping the ...ist sessions. I couldn't stand to look at my self and I even cut up every photo of me as a boy.