My Wonderful Obsession 26 free porn video

My Wonderful Obsession Part 26: Storm Clouds As I've mentioned before, life for me usually settled into a nice comfortable routine once school resumed after the end of summer vacation. Well, it certainly worked that way for the first eleven years of school. The twelfth had to be the anomaly, of course - but as you already know it was my own damn fault. I just HAD to start popping birth control pills and playing dress-up. I just HAD to have a steady boyfriend. I just HAD to get a super-busy job as a hot waitress. I just HAD to go on a powerful cocktail of female hormones that messed with my mind as much as my body. And I just HAD to do my senior year of high school as a member of the opposite sex. You're probably thinking my friends were right on the money with their assessment of my mental state - total insanity! I know I did, many times that year as a matter of fact. But as the old saying goes, when you make your bed you get to sleep in it. All these years later, I still wonder how I managed to make it through that year without killing myself. But I did, otherwise you wouldn't be hearing this long drawn-out story, would you? (And before any of you readers tell me you wish I HAD ended it all, so you'd be spared my never-ending tale of woe, I have five short words for you: PUT A SOCK IN IT. The story has a happy ending, I promise!) In my defense, though, I WAS kind of suckered in. Remember how I said the stars were all aligned in my favor? How everything seemed to go my way at every turn? It's true - even the most awkward, scariest part of my transition: going public at school as a girl - went so smoothly that you could forgive me for believing it was all pre-ordained. Not only were there very few uncomfortable incidents with other students, but less than a week after classes started, word came from Mr. Marshall, by way of Mom, that the school district had approved Dr. Cooper's request - no conditions attached! Of course, some years later I would learn that the district was scared stiff of getting hauled into court on a human rights complaint, like what happened in Chicago the year before. Except in that case, the boy in question wanted to attend spring prom with his boyfriend - in a pretty dress no less! Clearly a no-no by school regulations. In mine, I had a (supposedly) legitimate medical issue. So how COULD they refuse? Whatever, it meant I was free to wear skirts to class, and if I wanted to wear fishnet stockings, false eyelashes, bright red lipstick and tons of jewelry, it was my choice and mine alone! But I wasn't THAT crazy. I knew that the best way to 'fit in' and invite the least trouble was to stick with boring, semi-androgynous clothing and go easy on the makeup and bling. I didn't want anyone to throw the 'drag queen' epithet at me if I could avoid it. Besides, in those days you were hard-pressed to find many real girls who'd wear anything but jeans to school, and I knew it was best to try fitting in. The whole situation made me think of something Mrs. Taylor had remarked about: how, when she was in high school, girls were forbidden from wearing anything with pant legs. And that included the "hot pants" craze of the early seventies. She always thought it was SO unfair that boys got to wear jeans to school, and she couldn't. I remember thinking, 'It's so unfair that I HAVE to wear pants to school, and girls get to wear skirts!' So, ironically, I had to suck it up and buy myself some jeans. I'd never bought girls' jeans or any other kind of womens' pants before, so it was another new experience for me. I found that you had to make sure they weren't baggy anywhere, especially on your butt, which is what separates the good ones from the bad. Like Natalie told me, you wanted your butt to look like a Macintosh apple, not a Big Mac. That concept was all fine and well, but the only ones that fit the bill had no pockets and were also quite form-fitting in the crotch. Checking myself out in the mirror, it dawned on me that wearing girls' jeans to school wouldn't be much different from wearing a skirt - I'd still look undeniably female with my prominent round ass and no trace of a bulge in front (thanks to my trusty gaff). But at least I wouldn't look like a boy, would I? Just the same, I decided to stick with longish tops to save myself from even more stares and comments. I had to admit, though - wearing those snug girls' jeans made me feel almost as sexy as a skirt did. Thank God my body was 'shaping up' nicely so I could get away with it. And the end result was, I looked just like any of the other girls at school. But inevitably, other students would catch sight of me in a skirt or dress at the mall. The pointing and stares weren't TOO awkward, but when, on a couple of occasions, they ran into me at Milestones - and put two and two together - it was a lot scarier! I should have anticipated something like that! As you can imagine, Sandy the sexy waitress and Sandy the androgynous, bookish high school student hardly fit the same mold. My greatest fear was that some big mouth would spill the beans about my male past to the other girls, or worse, my boss Miles. So I spent a lot of my working hours feeling stressed out when I should have been worrying about looking after my customers. But that wasn't remotely as stressed as I felt about Mark's family finding out. Sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, having had an awful dream where each and every one of them, from Mr. And Mrs. McCowan to Megan to Marci, were telling me how disgusted they were with me and how I wasn't allowed anywhere near them, their home, or Mark ever again. And I'd just lay there bawling my eyes out until I finally went back to sleep. Mark and I did have our little 'talk' about my feelings, but it didn't resolve anything for me. He still didn't know anything about the hormone treatments, or my future sex-change plans for that matter, so he couldn't possibly understand why I was behaving the way I was. But for some reason I didn't feel like I could share these things with him. Perhaps I just didn't trust him enough yet. Or maybe I thought we had such a perfect love affair, and any complicating issues I raised might screw things up. I know that was why I didn't press the issue of his parents knowing my past - he'd already brushed me off more than once when I raised the subject, and I was afraid I'd only antagonize him if I kept nagging him about it. And I just couldn't bear the thought of losing Mark. It would be a thousand times as painful as losing Julia! ***** Did I mention that attending school as a girl went way better than I could have hoped for? That was at least ONE bright spot. Oh sure, I got lots of stares and snickers from other kids who knew of me from past school years, and some snide comments from some girls (the kind who are mean to ANY girl that isn't a member of their little elite clique), but all in all it was quite bearable. Maybe because my close friends, who already knew about my feminine side, were so incredibly supportive. The most amazing thing was how my old nemesis Justin Bradford reacted. Can you believe it - not badly! When, inevitably, we encountered each other in the corridor between classes, he just nodded in recognition and walked right by! And that's how he behaved every time we saw each other. I did notice from time to time that he was gawking at me, but he always turned away quickly as though he didn't want me to know he was staring. His cronies weren't quite as stand-offish as Justin, though - several times during the fall term my friends had to come to my defense when one or more of those goons started mouthing off about my appearance or sexual preferences. One time a fist-fight nearly broke out between Doug Peterson (yes, THAT Doug, the drama guy who was always obsessed with the size of my artificial boobs) and one of the low-lifes, until a teacher intervened and warned the goon he'd be suspended if he caused trouble again. That last incident was the subject of one of the discussions Kath and I had on the way home from school one day. "I don't get it," she mused. "Justin was always the ringleader - now he's totally behaving himself and his three buddies are the only jerks left at school." "Yeah - and they're nowhere near as bad as he used to be." "Oh, he's not perfect, Sandy. He's in two of my classes and he still manages to abuse people. He's just laying off you, that's all." "Really? I wonder why. Like, I thought he hated my guts." "Maybe he's secretly in love with you. Did you ever think of that?" I tripped and nearly fell on the sidewalk. "Are you serious? Justin Bradford in love with me? AS IF! Not very funny, Kathleen Thomas." "And why wouldn't he be? Like I keep telling you, you're a gorgeous chick now. You just don't believe me." I ignored the last comment about my looks. "There's only one guy in the entire world who would love ME, knowing what I really am. And I've got news for you - it's NOT Justin." "You don't have to agree with me if you don't feel like it. But you know me - I call 'em as I see 'em - and I see you're disgustingly pretty." "Maybe you need glasses!" She just laughed and didn't reply. But boy, did her off-handed comment knock me for a loop. I really couldn't imagine Justin finding anything attractive about me, let alone me finding anything to like about him. Just the same, by then I'd known Kath for most of my life and had come to respect her opinions and judgment when it came to other people. Still, it was time to change the subject. "So you haven't told me how things are going with Ben these days." From the way her face softened at the mention of her boyfriend, I guessed they were still nuts about each other. "Oh ... not too bad. I haven't seen him since last week, but we talk on the phone once or twice a day ... it's hard, isn't it?" "Yeah, I know what you mean. I miss Mark like crazy if I don't get to see him for, like, even one day." "Same." "How about your folks? Are they still, like ..." "You mean trying to control my life? Yeah ... and they're being so jerky - like, they haven't even invited Ben over for dinner or anything. I've been invited to his place twice. You're so lucky - your mom likes Mark and you don't get any of the shit I have to put up with." Now I really felt badly. Why was it always ME who got the breaks? Well, on the other hand, my situation wasn't exactly perfect either, was it? "I know, you ARE in a shitty place ... but I am too. Mark's folks are going to tar and feather me when they discover my big secret - if they don't kill me first." We both stopped walking and turned to each other. I have no idea why, but we both immediately burst out laughing. Then we hugged each other tight! "We're such losers at love, aren't we?" Kath giggled. "What are we ever going to do?" "Just keep loving each other, I guess," was my quite serious reply. Then, "So whose turn is it to be Frank?" That got both of us giggling our heads off and we set off with arms around each other's waists for the last couple of blocks. Okay, so we did kiss a couple of times, but not in sight of the Thomas house. Oh God, how I loved that girl! Kath really was completely and totally my bestest friend in the whole wide world. ***** If I felt the need to tone it down at school, home was where I got make up for it by going all-girl, especially on the weekends. I could hardly wait to get home each Friday afternoon so I could spend some quality time doing my hair and face, and especially my nails. And not only did I lay the en-femme treatment on thick for my job, I also wore skirts and dresses around the house as much as possible, even when I was doing my housework. Like I said before, I always felt best in a dress - and besides, 'Need to practice up for married life,' I frequently told myself. It's true - I totally figured on being the ultra-feminine, fifties-style housewife for my future husband Mark. I could hardly wait for that part of my life to come! By then my brother had pretty much thrown in the towel and accepted the new me as the sister he never had. He even addressed me as 'Sis' once in a while - well, whenever he wanted a favor like the loan of a few bucks or help with his laundry. Otherwise it was just plain 'Sandy'. But I always tried hard to be a good little sister, doing favors like fixing a snack for him or giving him clothing advice out of the store flyers we got in the mail. That last item I took extra pleasure in, because as a girl I began to see Phil as the hunky guy he really was, and I knew instinctively which clothes would make him look irresistible. Trouble was, he just didn't own stuff like that, so more than once I threatened to take him shopping, something even Natalie had very little luck getting him to do. Of course, she had no trouble like that with me - I tried to make myself available for mall trips any time she offered. Which was only once a month or so, since Natalie herself was busy with college that fall. But we had the best time, laughing and giggling while we helped each other pick out the right outfits for the fall and upcoming winter season. On those trips I always took extra care to get my hair and makeup perfect, and wear bright lipstick and matching nail color, not to mention my prettiest shoes, skirts and tops and as much bright costume jewelry as I could get away with. Remember I said I needed to make up for my blah- boring school days? And it was SO much fun to prance through the mall with every guy in sight staring at us (even though the attention still made me feel nervous). I can't tell you how excited I was at the prospect of having that wonderful girl for my 'official' big sister, which was now only a year from coming true. She was such a friend to me - even a mentor, though not in the same wise-grown-up way as Sharon Stevens - Natalie was more of a role model, a real honest-to-goodness girl whose mannerisms and behaviors I always tried hard to emulate. Just the same, when we were sitting together in the food court enjoying a snack or a treat, I'd ask her about her relationships, her thoughts about guys, and stuff like that. Once I asked her how she handled all the attention that comes with being a pretty girl, and she tilted her head back and laughed out loud. "Oh gosh, Sandra - did you finally figure out that you're a boy magnet? Why do you think every guy that sees us has to pick his tongue up off the floor?" "Uh ... I always thought they were ogling YOU, not ME." She smiled and shook her head, and her eyes sparkled. "That's a nice compliment, sweetie, but you're the ravishing brunette here, not me. Guys are always attracted more to girls like you - and it doesn't hurt that you're so pretty." "Get serious, Natalie! You're totally gorgeous! And everyone knows gentlemen prefer blondes." "That's a myth and you know it. The only guys that like blondes better aren't gentlemen - they think we're short on brain cells, so they have a better chance of getting us in the sack." Now it was my turn to laugh. But she did have a point - as a boy, I always thought dark-haired girls were more interesting and attractive - like Julia for instance. How incredibly cool that I could now be one myself! And to think I'd been envious of Natalie's long blonde hair! "And you're tall," Natalie continued. "You carry yourself very well on those heels. Makes you stand out in a crowd. Have you thought about modeling ...?" That comment also made me stop and think. I knew I was about five-seven, which for a guy was a few inches shorter than average. But I was actually taller than most girls - and even more so with the extra boost heels gave me. In fact, by then I stood taller than most of the women I had close relationships with. But even in high heels I was still a lot shorter than my boyfriend. A funny thing I noticed over the years was that a man of my height looked short, and a woman the same height would seem tall. So clearly, if a guy thinks he's too short he could fix that by dressing as a woman, right? Why not? Worked great for me! "Do you really think I could do that?" I replied, leaving my thoughts and returning to the present conversation. "Why not? You've got the look, that's for sure. Must be those South Pacific genes, huh?" "You're always so nice to me," I responded with a big, honest smile. "I love you lots." "Love you too, little sister. And to answer your question, I just try to ignore them. I dress for me, my fianc? and my girlfriends, in that order. I can't help it if men like to whistle or stare, but I never encourage them. Does that make sense?" "Kind of," I replied cautiously. But it would still be a long time before I felt as nonchalant as Natalie about how other guys related to me. ***** I had to force myself to remember Natalie's encouraging words each time I visited Dr. Cooper for my twice-monthly hormone injections. I absolutely detested having those needles stuck into my butt, even if they WERE helping to turn me into model material. And they definitely were making a difference, and not just in my emotional state. By the time I'd been through two or three treatments, my nipples were becoming very sensitive again, like they'd been before my boobs started growing a couple of years earlier. I reported this to the doctor, and she began measuring my bust every time she saw me. My sore nipples also forced me to start wearing a different kind of bra to school. Previously I'd worn one of my sports bras that de-emphasized my chest while keeping telltale strap lines to a minimum, but that one had become uncomfortable and now I had to wear a new type that had a silky lining in the cups, which felt great, but it stuck out more and had straps that were harder to hide. I know, by that time I shouldn't have been so concerned, but the thing about boobs and bras is that they're indisputably feminine things - and letting everyone at school know I had them was like wearing a sandwich board that said, "SEX CHANGE IN PROGRESS." And I might as well just start showing up in my favorite dresses too. I think it was during my fourth or fifth injection appointment that Dr. Cooper informed me I'd gained another whole inch in my bust measurement since I started hormones. When she told me that, I was so thrilled that I decided any embarrassment at school was more than worth the trouble. My boyfriend noticed the improvement too, if his wandering hands were any indication. We got very few opportunities for real lovemaking that fall (more on this later), but he seemed to become fixated on my boobs during heavy kissing and petting sessions in his car. I didn't mind at all - in fact whenever we went out I made sure to wear a front-fastening bra and a top that buttoned at the front, just to make his job a little easier. I loved feeling his hands on me, kneading and caressing my breasts like a pro. But when he put his mouth on them and used his tongue to do the caressing, it almost drove me wild and all I wanted was to get him in bed with me. I'm sure he wanted the same, judging by his rock-hard penis which I always took care of for him. Speaking of my boyfriend, soon to be my fianc? as I hoped, you're probably wondering what became of his car. Well, the poor little Corolla did get fixed and Mark's dad drove him back to Lexington to retrieve it. But no sooner did he get the car back home than he sold it and bought a used Honda Accord, which was a couple of years newer and a lot more luxurious. I really liked the color - a deep red which looked spectacular in bright sunlight. And the interior was very nice too - charcoal gray plush fabric on the seats, which went perfectly with every skirt and dress I owned. A very important consideration that I pointed out to Mark, which made him laugh and point out that every skirt and dress I owned went perfectly with me, too. What a sweetheart! I especially liked having Mark pick me up from work and drive me home, which he did as often as he could. He'd come into the entrance to wait for me, and the other girls would tell me how hunky he was and how lucky I was, and if I ever got tired of him to give them first dibs, and as you can imagine it made me feel like a very special girl. Then he'd see me in my sexy waitress outfit and I could almost see his bulge growing. Even though it was late I'd make him stop at a secluded spot so I could properly express my appreciation for his service, if you catch my drift. But, like I said before, there were storm clouds on the horizon. I couldn't believe how busy my life became that fall. Between school, helping Mom with the house and her accounting, and waitressing at Milestones, it seemed like every waking minute was used up. Mark got what little was left over, and before long I could tell he was as frustrated about that as I was. Maybe even more - after all, he was a young, red-blooded American male and from my intimate knowledge of the subject, they need sex at least once a day to stay on an even keel. But that wasn't the only source of friction; the effects my injections had on me compounded these problems. One thing that puzzled me was how my hormone-induced moods never seemed to surface when I was with girls like Kath or Natalie. With Mark, however, I could be quite emotional - sometimes just on the verge of tears but more often upset and argumentative - almost like I was scrapping for a fight. Much later I realized that the difference was how relaxed and accepted I felt around my girlfriends, but I was more likely to feel tense and nervous when I was with Mark, whom I was never certain totally accepted me, possibly because I kept telling myself a perfect guy like him never would. I absolutely ached to be with Mark, but when I got to see him I wasn't always the nicest person to be with. The one thing that made me see red was his refusal to talk about my feelings - specifically, the whole issue of his parents finding out about my real gender. He never seemed to care how I felt, or even that it was an issue worth worrying about in the first place. And by then I was becoming really panicked that there would be huge grief when they found out, as inevitably they must. After a couple of phone conversations that ended badly, I decided to clam up about it for good. But that only made me feel worse inside, like I was being forced to bottle up my emotions. How long would that be able to continue? At least sex between us was pretty good. With the 'gay' genie well and truly out of the bottle, there were no body parts that were off limits to either of us. We only had a few really good encounters that fall - one in my bedroom when Mom was at a symphony concert with a client, and a couple of others on a weekend when his mom and dad were away and Megan was staying over at a friend's house. I loved being intimate with Mark and doing everything I could to give him pleasure - even letting him enter me from behind, the essential gay sex act. Fortunately for me, I'd read up about it online beforehand and I'd even bought some K-Y lubricant to make it easier on me. But he felt so huge in there, and I really didn't enjoy it very much. While he was thrusting and coming in me all I could think about was how much better it would be when we could finally do it properly, man-to-woman style. ***** That fall my voice lessons were rescheduled from a weekday evening to a Saturday morning - it was the only available time when I was guaranteed not to be slotted in for a shift at the restaurant. On the first of those mornings, I let myself into Mrs. White's house without ringing the bell, as was customary. In past years there would be another boy or girl leaving, but now I was her first student of the day. And I DID explain how I looked on weekends, right? Well, I called out "Hi Mrs. White, it's Sandy," as I often did, and she called back "Hi Sandy - please wait for me in the studio." So I waited there by the piano and a few seconds later she appeared at the door from her kitchen, saying "How was your summer ..." and her hand went straight to her mouth. "Sandy ... you ... uh, look different ..." Quick recovery! "I didn't expect you to be, um ..." "You mean dressed like this?" I was wearing a very cute, blue and white one-piece jumper-style dress with sandals - one of my favorite casual weekend outfits and one that made me feel quite feminine. And my hair was bobby-pinned back from my forehead, as Mrs. White required of her female students. "Yes, and with earrings ... and nail polish ... and makeup ... can you tell me what's going on, dear?" "Oh ... well, this is the new me, I guess. It's kind of a long story, but I'm going to be a girl from now on, ma'am. I hope you'll still be okay with teaching me ..." Mrs. White didn't exactly look thrilled with this turn of events, and I remembered how reticent she'd been about letting me perform as a female at her previous two recitals. An old-school lady, I'd concluded, not at all as accepting of differences as younger people were. I began to regret wearing my cute little dress that day. "I don't know how to answer that, Sandy," she responded slowly. "I was already a little uncomfortable with your costume choices ... but this is going much further, don't you think?" "Um, yes ... I guess so, ma'am." I figured it was a good time to play my 'medical card'. "But, I'm kind of following doctor's orders." Her face registered surprise, if not disbelief. "Your doctor told you to dress like this? You can't be serious, Sandy." "I am, really, ma'am. If you must know, I was diagnosed as having a hormone problem. Like, my body's becoming more female all the time. And my doctor wants me to live as a girl for at least a year, then, like, I'll be able to have a sex change operation." Mrs. White sank into the nearest chair. She looked totally shocked, and I wondered if I'd given her too much information all at once. "So THAT's why your voice didn't change ..." she said after a few seconds of silence. Then her face brightened a little. "You poor dear," she said with compassion in her voice. "How long have you known about this, um, hormone problem?" "Only since the summer," I answered, feeling relieved that she seemed to be coming around. "I've been seeing an endocrinologist about the changes in my body, and a psychologist too. They both agreed that the best thing for me was to start living as a girl, since I was kind of turning into one anyway ..." "I see ... you know, I thought you were developing more like a girl. So, are you attending school like this too?" "Uh-huh. They're letting me go as a girl this year. But I don't dress like this - most of the other girls wear jeans or stuff like that, and I don't wanna look too different ..." "That sounds sensible. Do you wear makeup at school?" "Uh, no - not really." I figured more explaining was in order. "If you're wondering why I'm like this today, well it's because the weekend's the only time I really get to practice being Sandra - that's my new girl name - and the doctors want me to see if I can really do it, and if I'm okay with it ..." "Well, you can definitely DO it," she said with a laugh. "You don't have an ounce of boy about you. And ARE you okay with it?" I answered carefully, not wanting her to get wrong idea, even if it was the right one. "Um, I guess so. So far. I feel pretty comfortable like this, and most people seem to accept me just fine." "And so they should. You're very pretty, uh, Sandra. Hmm ... I've always liked that name, and it does suit you nicely." "Thank you, ma'am," I smiled. "I really hope you won't mind teaching the new me ..." "Of course I don't mind, Sandy ... I mean Sandra. It's not your fault you've got that condition. And I do want to see where we can take you in your voice training." "Thank you so much," I said sincerely. "I really want to keep up my lessons. And you can still call me Sandy if it's easier." "I might sometimes - I can be a little absent-minded," she chuckled. "But I do like your new name, so I'll try to remember to use it. Now, uh, shall we get started?" As Mrs. White pulled a songbook from her big bookcase, she remarked (rather excitedly, I thought), "Well, we won't have any trouble finding good songs for you this year, will we?" ***** Remember how I told you about the fall drama production? It wasn't a musical, like the big spring one - just a light comedy or sometimes a real dramatic play, usually with fewer actors. That year we did an Oscar Wilde play called "The Importance of Being Earnest." Kath and I tried out for it but she got a minor part and I got squat. Just as well, I remember thinking, since the rest of my life didn't allow much in the way of extra-curricular activities. But I did get volunteered by Mr. Nelson to help with costumes and makeup. 'This will be interesting,' I thought. Would it mean that I'd be hanging out in the girls' dressing room? At least I didn't have to attend rehearsals until just before the performances, which took place in early November. My question about being in the girls' dressing room was answered when Ms. Griffith helped me get set up for makeup in the small rehearsal room off the backstage corridor. I would be the only one looking after this particular department, she told me, and it would be my only job since Mrs. Parsons had stepped up to the plate to assist with costumes again, bless her heart. So I didn't have a reason to go into the girls' dressing room, which was really fine with me as I didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable, myself included. I had to do makeup for the last two dress rehearsals and the four performances, and I must admit I really enjoyed the experience! I guess practicing on Kath that summer wasn't such a bad idea - not to mention all the practice I had doing my own makeup. But doing the guys was certainly different. Thankfully Mr. Nelson gave me some pointers and I was able to do that part of the job properly. But I wondered how the guys, who were all my friends from last year's musical, felt about having Sandy do their makeup for them. After all, wasn't I always the one getting all dolled up, not just for that show but also for social get-togethers? Sure enough, when Doug Peterson's turn came I jumped at the chance to get him back for all those 'big boob' comments by threatening to apply mascara, eye shadow and lipstick for opening night. "Algernon IS a bit of a dandy," I kidded, "so you'd look totally in character!" Strangely, he didn't object at all, so to this day I still wonder whether Doug was secretly jealous of how I was able to transition from plain ordinary boy to pretty girl so quickly and easily. The 'big boob' jokes may have been a clue. I've learned since then that a large percentage of men, maybe ten or twenty percent, admire beautiful women partly out of a burning wish to become beautiful women themselves, and to experience all the amazing, wonderful things in life that only women can experience. That certainly sums up MY life! But I digress. My favorite makeup task was for Kath, who I had to transform into Miss Prism, an unmarried, middle-aged governess who's well-meaning but a little absent-minded. I thought my friend was cast well for the part, and not because her parents were doing their level best to make her a spinster. It was her reddish-brown hair (yes, she still had traces of the dye from Fiddler) and her peaches-and-cream English complexion. She could also do any accent, and East London was one of her specialties. Kath was my last makeup job for each performance. Kath being Kath, though, she couldn't resist griping about having to wear makeup. "Hey Sandy, what's the big idea making me look so old?" she complained when I finished and moved out of the way so she could see herself in the big the mirror on the opposite wall. "Can't you make me look hot like you did last summer? Remember, Ben's coming to the show!" "There's no pleasing you, is there?" I laughed. "Don't you worry one little bit - I'll go sit next to Ben to keep him company. I'll be sure to remind him it's what's inside that counts." "Oh thanks a LOT," she moaned. "I'm so screwed! It was hard enough to compete with you before - and now you made me look like my grandmother. Can you remind me why you're supposed to be my best friend?" "Because I love you, and someone needs to look after you. Look on the bright side - you probably won't get knocked up after the show." Kath groaned and shook her head. "You're just full of happy thoughts, aren't you? Remind me to return the favor some time. And if you're going to sit with Ben, can you at least put a paper bag over your head? And maybe find some baggy sweat pants while you're at it? You're little bod's looking way too hot to be hanging out with my guy." I'm actually hanging out with MY guy, silly. He just happens to be sitting with Ben, so I'll just park myself in between the two of them if you don't mind too much." "I DO mind, thank you. A LOT." "Hey, what are you complaining about anyway? Don't you get married at the end of the play? The makeup girl doesn't get to do that." "Oh yeah - I get to marry a minister, or a rector or whatever he's called. That sounds pretty exciting, doesn't it?" "Hey - your parents would probably approve of HIM!" That was all Kath needed to descend into a giggle fit, and I couldn't help joining in. At that moment Ms. Griffith came in and admonished, "GIRLS! We have a dress rehearsal to perform. Can we get focused on that, please?" We both nodded. Kath immediately made for the stage, and I turned back to my makeup supplies, feeling rather pleased that the teacher had called me a girl. Catching sight of myself in the mirror, I was struck by how, even with my supposedly androgynous school clothing and no makeup, I didn't look the slightest bit like a boy. Yes, my short hair had grown out another inch or two, but my face had become even more feminine if that was possible. And I could see why Kath made such a big deal about my 'bod' - it really DID look hot. The old white tee-shirt I'd put on for doing makeup was now a bit on the small side (I'd had it since I was, like, thirteen) so it hugged my waist and the curve of my hips, which were widest at about crotch level. On a whim I undid the top of my jeans and tucked the tee-shirt in. The result almost took my breath away. My wide hips, sleek crotch and rounded, protruding butt were now completely on display, and it was quite obvious that they could only belong to a well-shaped female. Together with my narrow waist, prominent bust, my slender arms and my girlish face and hair, there seemed to be no point trying to hide what God, nature, and hormones had done for me. So on another whim I reached for a tube of soft red lipstick - the color I'd used on the two younger ladies in the play - and carefully applied it to my own lips. 'Not bad,' I thought, 'but I need just a bit more.' Next I used an eyeliner pencil to outline my upper lids at the lash line. 'There,' I thought. 'If that hurts anyone's feelings, tough luck.' And I decided to keep the tee-shirt tucked in. I know, it wasn't that big a deal since classes were already over for the day, but there were still a lot of students in the building, doing catch-up work or hanging out in the theater watching the rehearsal and waiting for friends or siblings. I guess you could call it another small step for me. But judging from the reaction of some of the guys I walked past, I'd have to call it a big step. ***** A week or two before Thanksgiving I got invited back to the McCowans' place for Sunday dinner again. Mom had taken the call from Mrs. McCowan while I was at work and apparently had a 'nice long chat' with Mark's mom. When I got home that night Mom was still up but she had her nightie and a housecoat on - obviously waiting to talk to me. And when she informed me of the invitation and their conversation, I felt kind of uneasy. "Mom, I don't know if I'm up to it," I told her while we were seated at the kitchen island. I had to sit really close to the overhanging countertop so the shortness of my little black skirt wouldn't be 'in her face'. I knew Mom didn't exactly approve! "Sandra, I thought you got along well with Mark's family. What's the problem?" "It's nothing, really. Well, maybe it is ... I just feel guilty, like I'm being really dishonest with them. Oh Mom, what if they find out? I'd just die ..." Mom nodded in sympathy. "I know, honey - we've talked about this before. But don't you think if they knew about your medical condition, they'd be ... well, understanding?" "Maybe. But Mom, there's no way they'd want anybody but a real girl to marry Mark. Especially Mr. McCowan - I know he'd want Mark to have kids - you know, so they could continue the family name. Mark's their only son and they won't let him marry a fake girl like me, no matter how much they like me." My emotions, lately never far from the surface, took over at that point and I began crying. Mom handed me a couple of Kleenexes. "I'm sorry, dear. I wish I knew what to say - is there anything I can do?" I knew how badly Mom must have felt. Like she always told me, she wanted so badly for her kids to be happy. And this situation was just so impossible! "No, there's nothing you can do, Mom. I got myself into this mess and I'll have to get myself out of it. I just wish I knew how." Tears were still running down my face and the Kleenexes were getting big black smudges from my generous eye makeup. "Why don't you go upstairs and clean up ... put on your pajamas and come to my room and we'll talk ..." I nodded and did as Mom suggested. A short time later I was sitting cross-legged on her bed in my favorite nightie with a feather pillow resting on my lap for modesty. I'd pulled off everything, including all my underthings, and removed all traces of my makeup and applied moisturizer. I was feeling much better having gone through my little nighttime feminine routine that I enjoyed so much. Mom climbed onto the bed and positioned herself across from me, legs crossed as well, and took both of my hands in hers. She gazed for a moment at my bright red nails, then our eyes locked. "Sandra, honey ... if you only knew how much I love you," she began in an emotional voice. "And I love that you're my very special daughter. I'd rather die than do anything to make you unhappy ..." "Mom, you never have and you never will. Remember? I chose to become Sandra, and I have to live with the consequences. If that means I never get married, so be it. Maybe I'd be an old maid, but I'd be a happy old maid. I'd still have all my friends, wouldn't I?" As I said that, I thought of Kathleen - she'd always be my closest friend, and maybe that was all I needed. Mom's eyes were glistening and for a moment I thought she was going to cry. "But honey, I know how badly you want to have a normal life - as a girl, yes - and you know I'd do anything to help you. I mean it - anything." "Mom, really ... that's very cool of you but you've already done so much for me. I don't know what else I could ask from you ..." "Well ... you just remember you can ask me for anything. Whatever I have is yours." That last comment made me stop and think. Did she mean she wanted to share her inheritance with me? 'That's crazy,' I thought. 'It's her retirement fund. What's she thinking?' "Mom, all I need is you - and my friends. You know how much I love Mark, but if it doesn't work out I'll survive. Honest." But even as I mouthed those words I knew I wasn't being even close to honest. If I lost him I'd be totally devastated, plain and simple. And nothing Mom could give me would ever fill the void. ***** The Sunday of the McCowans' family dinner dawned cold, wet and very dreary. Typical November weather, I thought, and it fit my mood perfectly. It was only a few days after my latest injection appointment, so PMS was right on schedule. I still managed to pick out a nice solid- color royal blue dress and a long-sleeved white cardigan to top it off, and did my face and hair as carefully as I could. But I have to admit, I was dreading the visit like a root canal (which I'd heard could be very painful). Part of it was my nervousness about Mark's family, and part was knowing how fragile I could be when the hormones were doing their work. But I couldn't really say no, could I? Mark picked me up at two, as his mom wanted some extra visiting time before dinner. As usual, when he greeted me at the door he gave me a big hug and kiss, which always made me feel a lot better, and he opened and held the car door for me. But we drove to his house mostly in silence, which was not unusual those days because of my moods and Mark's wariness of saying anything that could set me off. I still can't believe how badly I treated him! Once we were comfortably settled in his living room, though, my mood brightened a bit. It was Mark's dad, or his mom, or both, or maybe it was Megan too. Whoever, they all treated me like pure gold and once again I felt almost totally at home and accepted (I'm sure you know why I say 'almost'). I got to play dolls with Megan again, but only for a half-hour or so because Mark's parents really wanted to visit with me. "Sandra, you look so pretty today," Mrs. McCowan told me sincerely as we sat chatting in the living room. "Mom, she always looks pretty," added Mark. "Yes, she does, but there's something extra about her, I'm sure of it. I love your hair like that, honey - and your dress is so nice; but I think your face has changed since the last time we got together." "Well, I am getting older, Ma'am," I replied, feeling a little nervous but loving the compliments just the same. "I'm sure that's it, honey. You'll be one of those women who just gets more attractive as she ages." Mr. McCowan jumped in, "Like you, Beth?" His wife leaned her head back and laughed. "Oh, wouldn't THAT be nice! If only it were true!" Then we all had a laugh, but I should tell you that Mark's dad didn't exactly have rose-colored glasses. She really was quite beautiful, and judging from what she looked like in their early-seventies wedding pictures, he was totally correct. Back then she looked so young and awkward! Her plain long hair was straight and parted in the middle, and her makeup seemed to consist of lots of mascara and light-colored lipstick. Her wedding dress, if you could call it that, barely made it to her knees. There's no way I'd ever get married in something like that - I already knew what I wanted: a strapless chiffon gown with an empire waist and a huge flared skirt with crinolines underneath. And I'd have long hair too but it would be put up in a wonderful romantic style with fresh flowers sewn in. And Karen would expertly do my makeup so I'd be the most beautiful bride in town! Well, what else would you expect from someone as appearance-obsessed as I was? But back to the day's events - we had a really nice visit and as before I was able to (mostly) put my fears of discovery and disaster out of my mind. Marci was traveling to New York on business so it was just the five of us, and not having her there made it much less stressful for me, which was a very good thing because it was easier for me to keep a lid on my emotions. Mr. McCowan reminded me of the offer to go to Vermont with his family after Christmas. I was afraid he'd bring that up! Not that I didn't think a skiing trip wouldn't be huge fun, and something I never thought I'd get to do, it was just that each and every day with Mark's family brought me one step closer to the day of reckoning. Spending a week with them would be a lot of steps closer, or far worse, my secret would come out during the trip! Then I'd have to kill myself! "You're very generous," I told him. "My Mom said I could go but that I should pay my own way. So I don't know if I can, because I'm trying to save for college and stuff ..." "Is that what's holding you back?" he asked with amusement. "Well, there's no way we're going to let you pay. It's our treat, and we'd love to have you along. Marcia's not able to go this year, so we need you! And I need to get our flights booked this week, so what do you think? Will you come?" "Oh, are you sure? It's not fair that you should have to pay for me. I'd love to go and everything, but ..." "But nothing. You're more than welcome to join us and be part of the family." He looked over at his son for his agreement, and Mark nodded enthusiastically. "C'mon Sandy - you'll have a great time, I promise." Megan jumped in at this point. "Yeah, Sandy, please come! It'll be so boring if I don't have a big sister to do stuff with." Mrs. McCowan smiled and said, "It sounds like you've been out-voted, dear. And I'd love to have you with us too." My eyes went from one face to the next and all I saw were four very eager expressions. What could I do? What would you do in my place? "Well, since you all think I should, I guess I can't be the only 'no' vote. So I'll come." Megan squealed with delight. "Yay!! I'm SO looking forward to this! I get to have you for a whole week!" "The rest of us get to have her sometimes too, Megan," Mark chuckled. All I could think of was, 'What have I gotten myself into?' Mrs. McCowan, being a real woman and having that intuition all women seem to have, asked me twice during the afternoon and evening if everything was okay. "You don't seem be quite yourself today, dear," she told me privately. "Oh, I'm all right, Ma'am," I lied. "It's probably just how busy my life is these days. I haven't been feeling a hundred percent since school started, actually." "I know - Mark has mentioned that a few times." Then she did something surprising - she put her arms around me! "Sandra, we've all grown very fond of you ... if there's anything you'd like to talk about, anything I can do, just let me know ... will you do that?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Now I had yet another mature female wanting to take care of me. What was it about me that made all these women want to connect with me and help me? "Thank you, Ma'am. You're very kind. I promise I will ..." Did I really say that? How could I ever keep a promise like that? To be continued ....