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Feeling like a Million Bucks It's been a long time for me since I put up a story. I promised myself after the very violent end of my last one that I was going to take a break from that kind of thing for a while. Well, for at least one story. This is my first story based on a character around my actual age, except for flashbacks. She comes to be who she wants to be in a rather unusual way, but I promise, no magic, science fiction, etc. Just a lot of stuff from daydreams and real life kind of recombined into this story. But, you never know. Sorry that the first part of the story is short on dialogue, but I've covered this ground in other stories. It is autobiographical, with a little fiction. I couldn't believe this day had finally arrived. I realized I was scared to death as my friends, and the last person I had ever expected to be helping me, my Mom, helped me get dressed. I had spent my whole life terrified that my parents would find out the truth about me, but instead she was helping me get into my wedding dress. I was marrying the person who was also my best friend, a beautiful woman named Crystal. She was the first person outside of my counselor that I had had the nerve to tell about me. I had been afraid she would think I was a freak, but took it in stride, and supported me. I sometimes wondered if the fact that she was a lesbian influenced that. Maybe it did. I just knew, though that our friendship grew into a love that kind of snuck up on us. Now, it was going to be marriage. As this was running through my mind, I couldn't help but think of the wild ride it had taken me to get here. It was something I had been lucky to survive, and then something so fantastic had happened to be almost beyond belief and things got even wilder, but for the better. My name is Tanya, but I didn't start out that way. I was born Daniel Holcroft, back in 1965. I was pretty withdrawn, even in my early childhood. I was always frustrated by it, not knowing what caused it. It would be a long time before I would learn that it came from not being able to be who I was. I had a great Mom, but had no real memory of my real Dad. She divorced him when I was three, and raised me and my younger brother until I was eight. Then she married my step dad. He was a wonderful man, and I did take to him, but by then it was too late. I didn't think I could ever open up to anyone about what I was feeling about myself. You see, I was having these strange feelings inside. I wanted to know everything about girls. I found it strange that the one friend I could open up to was a girl. We met almost as soon as we moved to New Jersey for my Dad's job. I was still eight, and we didn't think about the boyfriend girlfriend thing. She didn't make fun of me when we played with her toys or girly games. I even got to borrow her Nancy Drew books. I had been reading the Hardy Boys books for a year or so, so I loved to read about a boy doing the same things. I didn't think it was funny at all that I wished I was her instead of Frank or Joe. My first experience with a girl's clothes came with hers. I was 10 at the time. We were watching their house, which was next to ours. One day, on a school holiday, I was left home alone. My brother was off with a friend, and my parents were at work. I had thought about this kind of thing if it had happened for a long time. I thought about her Brownie uniform. I was in the Cub Scouts myself, but had thought about how I wished I could wear hers, and be a Brownie. Now, maybe I could wear it at least. I took their key off of our key hook, and walked next door. We had the front and back door, so I went in the back where I hoped no one would see me. I went up to her room, and got undressed. I was going to wear it all I thought, so I looked in her drawers until I found a pair of panties. They were a little tight on me, but I got them on. I found that her t- shirt fit okay, but I had a slight problem with buttoning the blouse on the opposite side. I finally got it, and then put on her knee socks. I then put on the vest, and the skirt. I hadn't looked in the mirror yet, but it felt really nice. When I did look in the mirror though, I saw what I was. I was a boy in a Brownies' uniform. I saw her beret, and when I put it on, I felt a little better. I walked around her house for a while, until it was time to go home. I carefully took the uniform off, and replaced everything except the panties. I couldn't bring myself to put them back. I stuffed my underwear in my pocket and wore them home. I got home just before my brother. I had time to stash the panties in a storage area off of my bedroom, and was sitting reading when he came in. Although he was a year younger than me, he was more mature in some ways. I guess that came from being popular and having lots of friends. He asked how I was doing, then went to his room. I had just said "Fine"- I couldn't think of a way to say how I was feeling. I didn't even know myself how to explain how I was feeling. I knew that when I looked in that mirror, it had looked right. Except for my face and hair, I knew that a girl had been standing there. I even thought a name for her- Tanya. I didn't know where that came from. I had never met anyone by that name, but it sounded right, like it was me. The only problem with this was that I lived in a world where there was no room for someone like me. As far as I know, no one ever found out about that little adventure. I was disappointed that I didn't have the opportunity to do it again for a long time. But, I did occasionally do it with my Mom's clothes. I was big for my age, probably because I had so many issues. Eating compensated for things I wouldn't understand for years. One thing that did happen was that I developed fleshy breasts. By my early teens, I was putting on my Mom's bras when I had the chance. I had gotten some more panties, and wore them whenever I had the chance, even to school on non gym days. I got to the point where I thought I was invincible, that I wasn't going to get caught. But, I was just fooling myself. I should have known the day was coming. One day, when I was 16, my Dad told me that they were going to finish the area where I kept my stash, so that it could be used for storage. I would have to sleep with my brother on the floor in his room for the week it would take. The problem was, I didn't have a time in the next couple of days to move the stuff where I was alone in the house. So, when I thought everyone else was watching a movie, I started gathering it up. The problem was, my Mom came up to see if I wanted to watch the movie. She didn't see me until she looked in the crawl space. She saw what I had, and immediately called for my Dad. I guess they just couldn't comprehend what they were seeing. My Mom screamed at me as she recognized some of her old clothing. My Dad wanted to know what was wrong with me. He said, "No son of mine is going to turn out as some kind of freak. I want to know what you're doing with this stuff right now!" I knew that if I told them the truth, anything could happen. So, I took advantage of a bad guess on his part. He asked me, "Are you using this stuff to masturbate with? You're not wearing it, right?" I immediately jumped on that and said, "Yeah, that's what I'm doing. I'd never put it on. I'm not that kind of freak." I died a little bit inside as I said that. I didn't know if I was some kind of freak or not, but I had just denied who I was, and would for a long time. They through away the clothes, but they sensed I wasn't being completely honest with them. They decided I should see a psychologist, since I wouldn't fully talk to them. Well, that really worked out well, since I didn't tell him the truth because I figured he would think I was a freak, too. I managed to sound good enough that he let me out when I didn't do any dressing again. Mom and Dad were keeping a sharp eye out on me. I didn't dress, but I found something else to do to numb the pain. I had been drinking on and off for a while, but then discovered pot. Between the two, the pain went away, but so did my grades. They weren't great before, but now I was barely passing. I was determined to graduate. I had no idea what I would do after, but I wanted to do that. I did graduate, but by the skin of my teeth. I spent the summer wandering from one job to another. I couldn't stay settled in anything. The drugs and the buried pain didn't help. Finally, a few days after Labor Day, I snapped. I had been reading a lot about people who just got to the point where they gave up on their life, and just took off hitchhiking or by other methods, looking for something better. I kept thinking about it, without anyone I could really talk to about it. One night, after not being able to sleep again, I finally did it. We had a basement that we used for both a den and storage. In the storage was where we kept our camping gear, and stuff that was left over from my Boy Scout days. I carried a backpack upstairs to my room, and grabbed some clothes. I wasn't thinking too much about what I grabbed- just what made sense. I went back down and tied a sleeping bag to the backpack, and finally did it. There was a door from the basement into the backyard. I was gone. I thought I might have heard my Mom's voice call out, but if she did, they didn't come after me. My town was right on a major Interstate, so it didn't occur to me to not just go out there and stick my thumb out. I had a vague plan in mind. I was from the northeast, so I decided to go west. I had met some people a couple of months ago from Windsor, Ontario, and they had invited me to come out there some day. They had even given me their address to write. For lack of anywhere else to go, I decided to head there through Detroit. I had a road atlas that I took from my parents, so I headed that way. As you can probably guess, I got turned back from the border in Canada. I don't know what I was thinking, but it was a lesson learned. I didn't have enough sense to know that I walked through one of the most dangerous parts of Detroit to get back to the freeway. After that debacle, I just started hitchhiking around the country. I heard about homeless places, but I thought they were for old people or true bums, not me. I ate mainly by bumming money from people who picked me up, or going into restaurants and eating, then running out on the check (I want to apologize here to any food service people here. I always feel guilty about it, and am a huge tipper today). This seemed to work for a while, and I saw a lot of the U.S. Then, one of the events happened that changed my life. Like most people, I got caught over something stupid. I was running out on a check one night, but didn't know this was a favorite stop of the local cops. One of them was coming in as I was trying to go. I was barely 19 at the time, and unprepared to go to jail, especially one that I found out later was one of the nastier ones around at the time, Escambia County jail in Pensacola, Fl. Trust me, that is not a place you want to be in for 15 days for something as dumb as what I did. But, the Judge thought I needed it. Heck, he was right. When I got out, I didn't have much in the way of options. I decided to go to the local Rescue Mission. It wasn't as bad as I thought. I got fed, some clothes, and a bed. But, the most valuable lesson I learned was to respect the older people who had been on the street a long time. One of them took me under his wing, and taught me a lot. I got tired of that place, but learned to look for someone like that everywhere I went. I traveled around a lot, even starting to ride freight trains when it was easier than hitchhiking. Then, something happened that changed everything again. I went to Portland, Oregon, and made some real friends there. I lived in a camp, but spent a lot of time at a local shelter volunteering. I was there from the summer into late fall, but it was shaping up to be a bad winter. I decided that I would finally take one of the counselor's offers at the shelter and get into a program at a free rent hotel. It had been a long time since I had even had my own room somewhere. I moved in, and felt totally at home. Of course, I didn't pay much attention to the no drug policy. I had quit drinking a couple of months before after breaking my hand while horribly drunk a couple of months before. But, I had a lot of room, and even got a small pot business going to support myself in really nice pot and to be able to eat out once in a while, along with the food stamps I was getting. And, just when I thought things couldn't get any better, I got the news. A friend of mine that I used to camp with came over and told me she was going to jail. I didn't think much about it, but she asked me to store her stuff while she was in for a few months. I agreed, but I had so buried who I really was for so long that I didn't even think about that at the time. I was just, at least consciously, being a friend. I guess I shouldn't be surprised in looking back, that it didn't take long before I wanted to check out her stuff. I had lost a lot of weight during the years on the street up until now, and was a on the low side of normal for my size. I didn't really realize that with her being somewhat overweight, that we might be roughly the same size. It started when I found her box of panties. My experience when I was younger had been with cotton panties, but she had something new to me- nylon and polyester panties. I also saw that where my Mom and my friend had just had pretty normal panties, she had some that were definitely sexier. I didn't really plan what happened, but it quickly spiraled out of my control. It started with trying on a pair of the panties. They were a little tight, but fit okay, I wore them under my clothes for a few days, but when they got dirty, I quickly put them in with my laundry. I realized I was an idiot, but there was this pink pair that I would later learn was called "boy shorts" that looked so pretty. They had white hearts on them, and I couldn't resist. They were snug against me, but felt so nice. I also started to wonder what one of those bras would feel like. For some reason, even though I had lost all of that weight, some of the fleshy breasts had remained. With the panties on, I finally broke down and pulled out a pink bra. It was pretty, with a white heart where the cups came together. I couldn't figure out how to put it on, until I put it on back to front, and hooked it and pulled it around. I pulled the straps over my shoulders and found that the cups fir a little tight over my breasts. I finally dared to look in the mirror, and saw what I had seen the first seen all those years ago- a boy in girl's underwear, except I was older. The only difference now was that I was older by 20 years. I thought, maybe some clothes would help. I had looked a little bit, and seen some things I liked. One white blouse and black skirt interested me. I pulled the blouse over my head, and stepped into the skirt. The skirt had an elastic waist to it. I pulled it up, and looked into the mirror again. But when I looked in the mirror, I did see a difference. I guess it was in the way I looked at it. As someone who lived on the streets, I had let my hair grow long, as opposed to when I was a kid, when my parents made us keep it short. The problem now was a bushy mustache. I wondered what I would look like with my mustache gone. I decided that I would do something about it in the morning. I had a TV in my room, and relaxed that evening, happy in the clothes I was in. For the first time in years, I really felt that I was myself. I made a list of things I wanted to get tomorrow. I knew I had to go to another part of town- somewhere where I wasn't likely to see anyone I knew. When I got sleepy, I tried on something else I had found in the box- a babydoll nightgown. It fit, although again it was a little tight in the bust. In the morning, I finished my list, and got dressed. I didn't dare where any of her clothes outside, but was happy to put on a pair of panties. I went to a little restaurant across the street from the hotel that was a dive, but they had a deal with the government to take food stamps. I didn't usually eat there, but I wanted to save my money for something else. I had picked out a Fred Meyer's that was easy to get to by bus, but far from downtown. I used to have a camp nearby, so I knew no other street people hung out there. It was hard to think about buying some of the stuff on the list, so I got some of the stuff that was easier. I wanted to start keeping a diary for Tanya. I knew that I had to live two lives, so I wanted to record one of them. I couldn't resist one in pink. I then went to the men's section. I wasn't really looking at what was there so much, as the fact that the women's section was across the aisle. I felt almost intoxicated by the sight of all the clothes in there. I had to get some pantyhose- the one pair of hers I had attempted to put on had turned into a disaster. I wondered if they still had them in packages like when I had looked at my Mom's- those had a weight and height guide on them. I worried how people would look at me while in that section, but noticed that there were a couple of men in there. I didn't know why they were there, but it gave me the courage to go over there. I went first to where I saw rows of pantyhose and tights. I could see that the tights were almost impossible to see through, and only cost a little more, so I figured I would get them. I found a pair in black, and another in white that the chart said should fit me. A couple of people looked at me a little strangely, but didn't say anything. I kind of wandered then over to the lingerie section. I realized that she didn't have very many panties. It was easiest to buy a bag, so I got a six pack of nylon panties in assorted colors. I was getting bolder as I went along. I also realized that she didn't have a half slip for her skirts like the one I wore yesterday, so I grabbed one. This was starting to add up, so I went to the section with bath stuff. I wasn't very hairy anyway, but I really wanted to know what it felt like to shave my legs, so I had to buy extra razors. I also got some bubble bath, because one of the bathrooms at the hotel still had an old fashioned tub. I got some women's deodorant, and even found some body spray that smelled pretty, and said Jasmine on it. Then, I finally got to the hardest place to go- the makeup area. I kind of ran out of courage there. I did grab some lip gloss that came in different colors (of course I grabbed a light pink), and practically ran for the register. I was afraid that someone would laugh and call me a freak, but I guessed they were trained to deal with almost anything. They checked me out, and I put all of the stuff in my day bag, and went to catch the bus back downtown. I bought some stuff that I could keep in my room to eat for the night. I definitely wasn't leaving again. I was lucky in that the bathroom was next door to my room, at the end of the hall. I gathered the bubble bath and the razors for my legs, and went in and locked the door. When I filled the tub, I lay down in what smelled and felt like heaven. I soaked for a while, and then began to shave my legs. I hadn't figured on how different it would be from shaving my face. I got a lot of nicks, but finally finished. It felt strange that first time- my legs felt almost naked compared to before, but still felt wonderful and smooth after the bath. I washed my hair, and then carefully rinsed out the tub. I checked to make sure that no one was in the hall, and ducked into my room. I couldn't believe I hadn't been seen. I took some scissors and cut my moustache down to the point where I could shave it off. When I shaved it off, my face didn't look so much like a man's, but more neutral. I put on a pair of my new panties that were a kind of blue pastel color, and then one of her bras. Then I looked at the tights. I had never put a pair on before, so I slid the white ones up one leg to my knee, and then the other. They felt fantastic on my legs. I stood up, and then finished pulling them on. If anything, they were a little large. I then stepped into the half slip, and got a jean skirt and a peasant blouse. I looked in the mirror, and the overall look was nice. I kind of liked that the white blouse showed off the white bra. But, my face still didn't look right. I really didn't know anything about putting on lipstick or gloss, so I just went for it. The first time wasn't too bad, so then I took a brush from her stuff and started brushing my hair out from my natural part in the middle. Now, I didn't look too bad. I walked around the room, and sat down the way I had seen girls do, smoothing the skirt under me as I sat. I took out my new diary and wrote down just how I felt and did. Then, I watched TV for the evening. This went on for a month. I did get a little more makeup, but was just getting used to where I was at. I was definitely afraid of going any further. I even had an occasional thought of going outside, but knew that would be terrible. Then I found out that the girl was getting out of jail. I had always known this day was coming It finally occurred to me that I had no way to completely hide that I had been wearing her clothes. It wasn't just her that I was afraid of- she had some badass friends that I really didn't want coming after me. I needed to disappear. The whole thing scared me so badly that I decided to bolt to a place that no one ever knew that I had been to before, Albuquerque, New Mexico. It was a big city, with a big homeless population. Between my money from dealing, and food stamps I had saved, I had a healthy stash of cash and pot. I knew they would look for me on the trains, or at the bus, so I did the opposite. I went downtown, and caught the city bus that went furthest south, and got out on the highway and stuck out my thumb. Luck, or fate was with me. I had a drunk stop for me that was going to LA. I drove overnight to Bakersfield, went way out to the east side of town, and left him still passed out at a truckstop. It took me four days from there to get to Albuquerque. I had been very lucky. I wouldn't find out for years what happened, but it was a good thing when I finally did. It was 1992, not a bad year to be homeless, because there were a ton of services for the homeless. One bad thing was that every thing caused me to be so scared that I left all of my girl stuff behind, except for my diary. I couldn't get rid of it. But, to bury Tanya again, I went back to drinking. Everyone pretty much left me alone, as I was a pretty ugly drunk, and could take care of myself. For five years, I was either in Albuquerque, or moved around to a few other places in Texas. But, it all took a toll on me. By 1996, I was in horrible shape. I was sitting in front of a homeless shelter in Albuquerque one night, waiting to get a bed. I didn't feel a real inclination to kill myself, but I realized that I couldn't see anyway that I wasn't going to die on the streets. At 31, I thought it was all over. Then, one of those life changing moments came. I was sleeping on the floor in the dining room (they didn't have a dormitory as such, just let us use bedrolls on the floor) one morning when the cook came out of the kitchen and said that they were short on the program and he needed a volunteer to wash dishes. I wasn't a lazy person, and he had said that the person could eat with the staff and program and then leave, so I thought "What the heck?" I said, "Hey man, I'll help. What do I have to do?" The guy stuck out his hand and said, "I'm Ray. Do what I ask, and you'll be taken care of around here. I won't ask anything unreasonable, and I'm a good friend to have." I had heard about him around, and what he said was true. I shook his hand, put on an apron, and attacked the pile of pots that were already piled up. I got them done in time to take a smoke break, and Ray walked out with me. He said, "I've seen you around, and what I've seen I've liked." I figured he might have been talking about an incident a week or so ago when one of his volunteers from the community was leaving. I had the same code as a lot of people on the streets. You don't mess with civilians, which is what we called "normal" people, especially people who came out to help us. Anyway, a drunk tried to jump the man after he had been denied access to the shelter to eat. The man had even tried to bring out a tray to him. I saw him jump the guy and took him out. I didn't like knives, but usually carried some kind of stick, or in later years, a telescoping wand. When the police came, suddenly no one knew anything. The guy was a scumbag anyway, and you didn't mess with civilians, as I said. So, there I was. I wound up helping out every morning, and Ray made sure I had a bed every night for a couple of weeks. He kept trying to get me to join the program. I told him no way. I had tried a couple of programs, but they all did nothing for me. But, he told me, "You have never tried something like this. It has changed a lot of people's lives, and will yours if you work it." None of that worked until he finally told me, "I'm going to have a program man to take this job tomorrow. If you don't have the guts to try it, then I'm glad I wont be seeing you anyway." Well, saying I didn't have the guts had the effect he wanted. The next morning, I showed up at the door of the shelter and told them, "I'm here to see about the program." Most of the staff knew me already, because they saw me at breakfast, but the director of programs, who did the interviews, didn't look very impressed. He said, "I don't know- you don't seem like the type of person who would stick it out." Well, I was pissed. In fact, I knew he was probably right, and told him, "Hey, I'm only here because Ray talked me into it. I don't know if it will work, but I want to try." He said, "At least you're more honest than most. I'll let you give it a shot." The program was extremely hard. It was composed of different aspects that kept you busy, but it did start to give me back a sense of worth, and clear thinking for the first time in more years than I could remember. And, I finished the first part of the program, and entered phase two just in time to go to work at the shelter they ran for the city during the winter. It was the first work I had done in longer than I could remember. It was tough, but people respected me for fairness, and that I had been where they were. When that ended, I had no idea what to do next. I had no resume, or anything to put on it. I was lucky that in my years on the streets, I had never spent more than the fifteen days in jail, and that was a misdemeanor. I had no drug record at all. I still had no idea where to go until it occurred to me that my work at the shelter might qualify me for security. I walked by a Wackenhut office almost every day, and I finally went in. The head guy there had me fill out an application for a job. He asked me if there was anyone who had known me for five years that could vouch for me. Fortunately, there was another shelter where I had worked on the desk, a while back, and although I hadn't left the program on the best of terms, I knew they would give a good word because of the work I had done. That night, the man gave me a call at the shelter. He asked if I could go to work and train the next evening. I said, "Heck yes, just tell me where and when." I went to work at an office building downtown that would have a huge influence on me for the next couple of years. I found an apartment after I had saved the money in a complex full of studios. They had free utilities and cable, so it was easy to start off with just a phone bill and rent to start off. It was near downtown, so I could walk. During the time on the program, I had finally gotten back in contact with my parents. I was surprised to find out that they had a cousin in town who had seen a newsletter that the shelter had put out, that had my picture in it along with some other program guys. My Dad's cousin, who I had never really known, had started volunteering at the shelter, and kind of kept an eye on me. My parents never asked me about what had happened with the clothes. They figured that I would tell them in my own time. I would, but it wouldn't be what they expected. They came out and visited me, and even gave me a trip to visit them where they had retired in Florida. It was a wonderful time, relationship wise. But, the biggest thing was yet to come. After I had gone through the program, when I didn't have booze or drugs to cover her, I started thinking about Tanya all of the time. I remembered when she wasn't a part of me, she was me. But, I just kept it buried until a fateful day in the laundry room of the apartment complex. I had seen a few things left on the table in there for a few weeks. There was a nightgown, a couple of pairs of panties, and a woman's t- shirt. I kept looking at them, even when I didn't have laundry, because the room was about fifty feet from my apartment. Finally, the next time I did laundry, I grabbed the stuff with my clothes. I knew I wasn't stealing this time, because no one had come for it in weeks. As soon as I got back inside, I couldn't wait. I immediately got undressed. The panties were a size bigger than the ones in Portland, but I was a little bigger too. They fit tightly, but still they fit. The blouse fit, but the nightgown was too small. It was a large, so I figured I should look for a size larger. There were a couple of thrift stores nearby, and a Wal-Mart. I was thinking that I never saw anyone from work at the thrift stores, and the Wal-Mart was 24 hours. I could go in there really late at night. I went to one store and kind of guessed at the sizes, and bought one of everything. Even though it was a thriftstore, they would let you return everything but lingerie. I had to return a dress that was a size to small, but just traded it in for the right size. I had also gotten a measuring tape. I had once seen in a magazine how to measure yourself for bust size. With my fleshy breasts, I was a 36A. it wasn't a hard size to find at Wal-Mart. I also bought a six pack of panties, with the three bras I got. I went to the other thrift store nearby and found some nightgowns in the right size, some even with matching panties. By the time I got home, I was so tired that I took a shower and went to bed wearing one of the nightgown sets. I woke up the next morning, and it was Thursday. Working the schedule I had, four nights of 12 hours each, I had another couple of days before I had to go back to work. I wasn't supposed to be anywhere today, and I was totally excited about today. I drew a bath, with a beautiful smelling bubble bath. It took me a while to shave my legs without cutting them, but it was worth it. I knew I looked a little funny, having no shape, but it didn't matter. I didn't need some great outward shape to be who I was. My first outfit was a simple bra with a matching pair of nylon bikini panties, both in white. I had found a matching skirt and pullover blouse in white also, and some white tights. I don't know why I wanted to do it all in white in my first time in years, but when I had it on, I realized that it was because I really did feel like a new person, the one I was meant to be. The only problem that I came to realize as I lived like this was that I was way too frightened to go out doing anything but under dressing was just how small that studio was. There was no room to move around. I had a bed, a desk that doubled as a table, and a recliner, which pretty much ate up the space. I wished I had more space. But, it did keep me happy for a few years. Then, another of those life changing things happened. In 2001, the shelter that I had gone through the program at called. They didn't know anything about Tanya of course, but they did want to see if I would come on staff. Instead of working nights, though, I would have to work weekends. I would have all week to be Tanya, but have to be a man for the entire weekend. I wouldn't even be able to under dress during this time, because I didn't know how they or the street people would react. But because of the money and the chance to repay the blessings that had been given me, I jumped at the chance. I immediately realized that although I was getting less hours, I was making more money. The first thing I thought of was a bigger place. After a year at the shelter, I started looking for a bigger place. I also started thinking about taking some kind of step as Tanya. I was going nuts without someone to talk to. I decided to postpone the move a little longer and do something I had never imagined. I had always been something of a technophobe. I didn't want anything to do with computers, but I wondered if there were answers on the Internet. I could be anonymous as I started talking to people. There had to be other people out there like me. I even saw them on the streets, but I knew I couldn't talk to them. There was too much to lose. I decided to just get a new laptop. It pushed my moving into a new place back a year, but it was worth it. I didn't really do much except look for sites, but found a fascination with fiction ones, like Fictionmania, and Storysite. It was 2005 before I finally got myself motivated. I had been so comfortable that I knew I had gotten lazy. Even in the studio, life had gotten too easy. I know that it sounds like a lot of time, but I just let inertia set in. But, I finally decided to move, and the next big life moment came. I knew I needed help to move, and clean up the apartment. I had seen a card for a business called "Always in Time" in the laundry room. I took the number and called. A girl answered, and after I told her why I was calling, she said her name was Crystal Taylor, and that she would need to see the place before she could give me a quote. I had already signed a lease on a place just off downtown near work, a nice one bedroom. The place had a low income sliding scale, so my income would bring down the cost. With that, I would be paying the same rent as where I lived, with paid utilities. I had to pay my own cable, but it was worth it. Crystal met me at my place on a Tuesday morning, and you could've knocked me over with a feather. There are a lot of people like me, who when they have gone through stuff like I have just don't have much interest in sex. I had had experiences with men a couple of times on the streets, but it was for money. I knew I really didn't have any real interest in them as Tanya, except as friends. But, I felt something immediately when I met her. It wasn't like she looked like a model or anything, but there was something so different about her. She seemed to sense something too, but we didn't say anything about it. There was a girl with her, named Mandy. When Crystal introduced her, it was as her girlfriend. It didn't really bother me that they were lesbians. I told them, "I don't care about that. It's who you are overall that matters to me." It turned out that we knew a lot of the same people, so it helped as an icebreaker. They came into my place, and looked around. Crystal said, "We can probably move everything in two loads, and then clean it in the same day." I said, "I can be ready in a week. I have some boxes already- the main thing I need is them and the furniture moved." She said, "We can pack for you too if you want. It's part of the service for a small addition in price." I told her, "No thanks, I just prefer to do it myself." Actually, if I didn't have the secret of Tanya to hide, I probably would have let them do it. I wasn't ready to let anyone know about her, period. I got settled into my new place, and immediately felt the change. It did change things, having more space. I also made arrangements for Crystal to take care of my cat while I was gone for the long weekends. I had gotten a new cat for myself out of the local shelter, and named her Nahla. She was a tough cat, who didn't like anything on four legs, and wasn't a huge fan of humans either, unless you fed her. It told me a lot that she liked Crystal. I was learning a lot about who I was as Tanya. I had been going onto a site called crossdressers.com for a while, and by 2008, I was comfortable enough in knowing that she was who I really was to do something about it. I knew there had to be some kind of website around to help people like me, and found one about where I could find various kinds of help. I was still a little scared, so when I finally decided to call one of the therapists listed, I hoped that something would go wrong. Maybe she wouldn't take my insurance, so it would cost too much. But, when the new book with the lists for my insurance came out, she was in it. I had run out of excuses, so it was time to act. I called her and told her my story briefly on the phone. Her name was Karen, and she said, "What could one time hurt? The worst that could happen is that you're wrong, and you'll have lost ten bucks" (my co-pay). I made an appointment, and went. She was very sympathetic, and I cried a lot as I told my story. I still had never gone out as anything but underdressed, and this wasn't an exception. I wanted so badly to be myself, and she understood. She said, "I won't say I'm sure until we have another chance to talk, but you definitely are Tanya, in who you really are. Will you come again?" I told her, "Yes, I'm looking forward to it." Well, it seemed to snowball from there for a while. After a couple of more sessions, she referred me to another Doctor, who specialized in hormones. My insurance didn't cover this kind of thing, but that doctor specialized in Thyroid problems as well, which I had. She talked to me for a while, and decided that I should try estrogen. The medicine wasn't covered, but my pharmacy had a price plan that brought the price way down. I felt as if I was living a dream. I couldn't see changes in my body right away, but the change emotionally didn't take long. I was already the kind of person who cried easily, so it didn't take long to show that. Then, it felt as if my fleshy breasts started firming up somehow. They seemed a little bigger, and when I had to buy a few larger cup size bras, up to a 36B from an A, I knew that I was growing. My butt became obvious. I had been taking the maximum recommended dose, so after six months, I could see the change. Then, the worst thing that could happen did. I had always had occasional swelling in my left leg, from an old infection, but this time it was immediately associated with the hormones. It threw me into a tailspin. When the doctor took me off the hormones, I wondered if this was all even meant to be. I went for a couple more times to see Karen, but then just quit. It was early 2009 by now, and I just didn't want to think about it anymore. Fortunately, there was Crystal. I just simply got tired of hiding my clothes everytime she came to clean the house. I asked her to come by one day when she didn't have any work, and cooked lunch. Then, I let it all spill out. I had read online that different lesbians reacted different ways. She told me, "You haven't been very good at hiding your things. I didn't snoop, but even in normal cleaning, I have seen some of your clothes. You forgot to throw away one of your hormone bottles as well'. I looked at her with my mouth hanging open and said, "Why haven't you ever said anything? I can't believe you never told me!" She said, "It wasn't up to me to say anything. I figured you would tell me when you were ready. Don't worry, I know it doesn't change anything about who you are. And, you can be yourself around me anytime." There was only one way for me to react, and I did it. I started crying, and she put her arms around me. We sat like that for a while, and then she asked, "Is there anything I can do for you?" I said, "Actually, there is. I've always wanted to go shopping with another girl. I would feel more comfortable, and also, you could take me to another town in your truck, where no one knows me. I don't want to go outwardly dressed, but there are a couple of places out of town that are listed as tg friendly where I could try stuff on." I offered to pay her for her time, but my birthday was coming up, and she said to consider it a present. We made a date for the next week, and she hugged me and left. Well, to say that the next week was torture was an understatement. I couldn't think of anything else. Finally, the day came. The day was cold enough that I wore a jacket, with a bra and pullover blouse under it. I had panties and tights on under my jeans. We were both pretty quiet as we drove the seventy miles. Who knew what the day would hold. To be continued I was planning on doing this in one shot, but it is already longer than most of my chapters. Most all of it is true, but some of the dates and ages have been changed to protect my identity and of my friends. I also have put in some stuff that is how I wish things had gone. I do not condone taking or using other people's clothes, but the sequence of when I was homeless with the clothes is true. To this day, I can't say why it happened, but it did. I regret what happened as far as the clothes, but it was a learning experience about myself. This is a long way from over, and I hope you are enjoying it, and want to see how it comes out. Peace and hugs, Tanya