Becoming A Teenage Girl - Pt 8 free porn video

Becoming a Teenage Girl - Pt 8 By Annette Nicole Smith This story takes place during the time span from mid March 1987 to the end of the May 1987 school holidays. It covers times of considerable enjoyment as well as pain and suffering for me. The mists of time are a little blurry as to the exact timing of everything that took place, but I can vividly remember most of the important things that happened around that time because of the two extremely black eyes and considerable bruising around my face along with mindlessly cruel taunts by silly ignorant teenage school children. Future chapters will now be far easier to recall and write as it was after my surgeries and receiving the gift of a diary from Bernadette that I started to record my life and significant events which took place each day. I've taken to writing in my diary religiously each day now for over 25 years and recommend it to one and all. ************************************************************************ Last night was spent gossiping with Bernadette in our bedroom because I simply didn't want to study after my talk with Aunty Poss. In our bedroom that night Bernadette and I talked about all manner of things relating to boys in general and Bernadette's latest crush in particular. Bernie asked me all sorts of questions about boys and how they thought, especially about girls. Most of my answers had to be qualified because of my complete ignorance in the area of girlfriends, never having had one I informed her. Bernie on the other hand admitted to having had several boyfriends since she started high school but told me it was very difficult to have a boyfriend without half the town knowing about it! (That's how it was in small country towns back then - and still is) We did talk a fair bit about Margaret and her boyfriend problems which we both found common ground to lament on. In Bernie's case it was because she was fed up with her sisters need to spread her anger and in my case because it was Margaret's behaviour which had finally made me talk to my aunty about if I'd been the cause of Margaret's recent bitchiness. The result of my aunt's talk left me considerably relieved, so much so that last night meant no study and instead, Bernadette's and my personal GF talk. Perhaps my mental relief was the cause or perhaps it was emotional exhaustion taking over but next morning I slept in till the alarm went off on Bernie's bed head. Leaping out of bed and without thinking, (Bernie and I were now so comfortable sharing the same room all the time now) I quickly shed my nightie and put on my farm clothes in front of my now waking cousin and dashed outside to do the morning chores only to find Foxy walking back into the kitchen with Rosie's milk. "No need to rush Steph, Rosie's milked. Sit down and have your breakfast, you've earned it many times over," Foxy advised me. Realising that the 2 main tasks had been done, (milking Rosie and egg gathering) I slowed down and thought for a moment. With my usual morning schedule now all out of kilter, perhaps I should have breakfast so walking over to the cupboard I reached in for the cereal box. All my mind could register for the moment was that between 6am and 7am Bernadette and Margaret had exclusive use of the bathroom to get ready for their schools and so with that firmly in my mind and taking the local paper I walked over and sat at the table in the dining room and ate breakfast. With my usual morning rituals thrown out the door, my mind selfishly locked into gear for the rest of my day and after doing the washing up and reading the local paper till 7, I then headed up to our bedroom and on being told it was ok to enter, did so and then automatically grabbed my wash things and headed for the bathroom to start to get ready for school. By 8am and ready for school, I bid Foxy and my aunt goodbye and headed for Greg's farm to catch the bus. Fridays, except for double science (classes 4 and 5) were always enjoyable, especially with music and then double Home Ec. for my last 3 classes and with the weekend to follow them. By lunchtime and with only 3 classes to go, my mind was happily lifting out of its dark subconscious mood and I was now laughing and enjoying lunch with my girlfriends as we talked about plans for the weekend. This was movie weekend at the local cinema (which happened every fortnight with the change of films) and was now a regular fixed event in our (mine and Bernadette's) social calendar. We'd almost always spend Saturdays being driven to Wagga or even further for Bernie's sports fixture and depending on the finishing time and where we were located, usually meant Saturday afternoon shopping at Wagga. I'd like you to imagine numerous groups of teenage girls, still attired in their sports uniforms, sweaty and dirt stained, usually high from a game victory or loss, invading the different women's washroom at a shopping mall. Most of the private schools had excellent sporting facilities for getting changed in, but only a few students would avail themselves of them as most were too excited from the game they'd played and also anxious to start their weekend break. (Unless of course you were a 5th or 6th former and so much more mature - hah!!) Mt Erin High dress uniform rules (as were most private schools) were strictly enforced. If a student was seen walking round in non uniform clothing, except sports uniforms carrying a suitcase - except on a Sundays) the 6th form prefects had instructions to put them on detention, which they almost always did do. Mind you if a student was not carrying a school case, they were OK. Since a few of the 5th and 6th formers had cars, they could leave their school cases in the car and wear non uniform clothes, so THEY were the ones who mostly tended to use the shower facilities after games. At the shopping mall, all sense of order went out the door as upto 14 teenage girls would excitedly crowd into a ladies room designed for about 5 or so, and all would be competing for mirror and vanity space to wash the sweat off their faces and apply makeup. It's interesting to point out that while uniform dress rules were rigidly enforced, the rules on no make up were generally ignored by prefects on Saturdays. Women entering mall washrooms and seeing the noisy crowd simply turned around and headed for one of the other washrooms elsewhere! Still having trouble imagining it all are you? Well then consider multiplying it by a factor of ten or more because depending on the schools involved, not to mention how many teams were involved that was usually the case. At least the teams would be broken up by game finishing times, but Saturday afternoon at the mall in Wagga had a noise level probably louder then a jumbo jet! Shops had a policy (for the girls at least) of not allowing garments to be tried if you were wearing a sports uniform whether it was clean or dirty. Perhaps that's why most country people look at the windows only (as I'd noticed when I first visited the shops at Wagga with my mum back in December). Bernadette now appreciating the enjoyment and thrill of trying on outfits, use to always shower and change back into regular school uniform just so she could try on whatever took her fancy (private schools were like that back then and most still are). It took only a few weeks before several of the girls in the team slowly were found to be also changing their after match habits to include showering after the game instead of waiting till they were back home several hours later on. This was because once a couple of the girls found they could try on new outfits and model them while their teammates had to simply look on, started a movement that in the end had it that no one wanted to miss out on the opportunity to model an outfit in front of their other teammates in Bernadette's side! The cosmetics counter at GB's Wagga on a Saturday afternoon also wasn't a place to be wanting service at because of the inundation of teenaged school girls either sampling makeup or lining up for free makeovers. It actually DID come to the point where girls dressed in school uniforms were barred from being allowed to try a free makeover, but not from trying the sample make up kits. Then, perhaps carrying a new purchase, most of the girls then use to congregate for milk shakes or coffee at McDonalds or KFC or any of the other food kiosks in the food section of the mall and discuss or show something they'd brought or perhaps talk about the game they'd played or simply just to gossip. Bernadette and I would be amongst these girls happily laughing and joking, glad in the knowledge that there was no school the following day and that depending on the week it was picture night or something else was planned for entertainment. The same was going on with teenaged boys I supposed, with the occasional daring one actually coming over and asking if a particular girl might like to join him and his mates, or perhaps an invite to the pictures. While most of the girls at a table might rib their friend if a boy came up and spoke to them, I now knew that most of them were simply envious or jealous of their girlfriend who'd been spoken to. Yep, I had to admit that Bernie made me envious about any of the guys who'd come up and talk to her during those afternoons. Because of Aunty Poss' rule on make up and the minimal wearing of it, Bernie's natural beauty always had me green with envy. On Saturday evenings at the pictures, I'd often sit behind her and some boy, quietly angry and jealous at her, but always forgiving her in our bedroom afterwards as we'd girlishly gossip about the boy, with Bernadette sometimes telling me about wandering hands. Although aunty Poss always expected each of us to look after the other, it was a given GF rule (and also amongst sisters as well) that kissing and fondling were never to be spoken about near parents and that if asked about was to be denied with wide eyed innocent looks. I'm certain that aunty Poss use to know that we often fibbed to her about the boys, especially Foxy and Margaret. Anyway Foxy was 24 anyway and an adult. Margaret was 19 and going to teacher's college. I think that although aunty knew when either I or Bernadette was fibbing to her about Bernie kissing a boy, she also knew that Bernie was sensible enough not to get into trouble and being a wise mum she use to just smile at our denials without going into an inquisition. The post break up grumpy's and hissy tantrums which inevitably followed was the only proof aunty ever needed to know that a budding romance had failed. By around the end of April of that first year, even I was now able to spot possible romance signs amongst my cousins, but was now also immune to the break up blues which always seem to result afterwards....Even with Margaret, whose outbursts were now like water off a ducks back to me! School was going well for me too. Now that I was fairly well known amongst both girls and boys in my form at school and that it was accepted by the girls that I wasn't a threat to any of their boyfriends and considered not worth the risk of hazing by boys from their mates by looking or talking to me. My teachers told me that my grades were excellent, I didn't get detentions or extra homework, usually always had a smile or a friendly word, and sometimes was even a bit cheeky in replies to teacher's questions in class, all of which had me sailing under the radar. I was starting to enjoy learning the saxophone and could now start to play tunes on it. At home I'd often go out to the barn to practice Patricia's guitar and sax mainly so as not to annoy anyone in the house and was starting to sound (well to my ears anyway) pretty fair for only 3 months playing. My monthly visits to my new specialist always seem to show good results and my hormone levels were now in the positive on the female (oestrogen) side. My male testosterone levels were now actually dropping, and at the end of March I celebrated the swellings of my chest to almost an AA cup, my aunt told me proudly one evening after measuring my bust. I hadn't really noticed much of a decline in my body strength when asked by the specialist but had been warned to expect it now with the negative testosterone levels and the positive oestrogen levels. Nor had I really noticed any significant changes to my moods when he asked bit it was Aunty Poss who had to refute my answer to the doctor much to my disbelief. She told him about certain things that I'd done or when I appeared to go quiet and sulk, which I hadn't considered to be of any relevance at all. On hearing about these times, he agreed with her and told me that I was indeed going through significant mood swings. At my end of April visit, he discussed with both of us the marked changes he was seeing in my body fat levels as well as my noticeable physical changes. He also went on to explain to us Aunty Poss and myself about my upcoming throat operation and he agreed with the need to straighten out my broken nose, pointing out that he would have recommended the fixing of my nose anyway to improve my breathing. On telling him that I was not only getting my nose fixed but also getting it reduced it brought about a few words of rebuke for not telling him at an earlier appointment, but that it probably would have made little difference to my hormone prescriptions. As always each visit ended with another hormone injection in my butt along with another one in my arm. Each month aunty would also take several photos of me and mail some of them to my mother, who'd always ring and talk to me after receiving them. We'd talk about Patrick and his uni studies along with how my father was nowadays. Mum told me how she was looking forward to seeing me in the May holidays for my surgery. In turn I happily told her about local happenings and especially when I had an AA cup all to her laughter over the phone. I'd written earlier on in this chapter about me being able to sail under the radar. But it was at the beginning of May during a PE class that I did something that was incredibly stupid. Now, since I'd been given a medical clearance from having to participate in PE, I usually went to a study class room for that period, which compounded my stupid act. On the day concerned I'd decided instead of studying to instead walk around the school grounds during PE, because it was such a lovely sunny day. I was skirting around various groups of boys or girls either running, jogging or playing netball, etc, and was heading for the trees to sit under them with the other kids who were ineligible for PE or who had been hurt during it that day. A cry of "heads" and instinctively looking upwards I saw a cricket ball rapidly arcing towards me. I stopped and instinctively readied myself to catch the ball. To the amazement of the boys at the cricket nets I easily caught the cricket ball and tossed it back to them on them on the full (only about 30 yards or so from the bowlers crease) and continued towards the trees. As I walked closer, another ball was struck quite hard towards me along the ground and instinctively I knelt down and fielded it correctly. On standing up I felt the ball in my hand and silently wished I could play cricket with them. I tossed it back to the bowler foolishly asking if I could have a bowl. No one was more surprised then me when he tossed the ball to me shouting out to everyone to clear the field, sure that my bowling attempt would be slogged well down the school grounds. His contemptuous remark had me really annoyed. He thought that because I was a girl I'd just clumsily chuck the ball in the air towards the batter. As I came closer I tossed my hat onto the ground out of the way and adopted my old run in and on reaching the stumps let go a well placed leg cutter, delivered through a loud female grunt partly caused by lack of warm up and also through the restraints of my bra! I'd been an opening bowler in 2nd year at my old school and so the ball was reasonably quick. It was certainly not the velocity your typical average boy would expect a girl to bowl a ball at. The batsmen's attempts to slog my ball out of the grounds instead had the sound of metal clanging as the ball actually struck the tin stumps clean bowling him. The cries and shouts of laughter from his mates had him picking the ball up and tossing it back to me with the offer of trying it again while the hoots of derision from his mates were ringing in his ears. I caught the ball (admittedly clumsily this time because my bra really did make it quite difficult for me to put my arms out in front of me to catch the ball) and turned around to ask the boy who'd tossed me the ball initially if I could have another go, which he laughingly told me to knock myself out little girl. Arrogant creep I silently thought to myself at his flippant remark! I walked back counting the paces and turned around and ran in and delivered another ball only this time pitching it slightly shorter so it might rear up. (In cricket terms this is called a bouncer and can be quite dangerous) The batsmen had already made up his mind what stroke he was going to play before I'd even started my run up and so was caught in surprise as the ball reared steeply towards his head causing him to reflexively weave his head out of the way. My call of "I'm sorry it seemed to have slipped" did appear to be a bit lame under the circumstance but his mates were all holding their sides and laughing out loud while he picked up the ball and threw it directly at my head. I reflexively put my hands in front of my face and caught the ball much to both my amazement as well as everyone else. "Oww" I cried out, which had several of the boys yelling at the batsmen (Geoffrey) to knock it off. One of the boys I recognised from the school choir which I had been "drafted" into joining at the behest of the music teacher came over and spoke to me. "Your names Stephanie, isn't it" he asked me which I blushingly replied a 'yes' to. "Better hand me the ball Stephie. He's likely to do something stupid and you might end up in hospital." Laughing, he called out to Geoff telling him that Stephanie wouldn't bowl to him anymore because he wasn't up to her abilities, which had my 2 classmates loudly giggling to each other as I reluctantly handed him the ball and walked over to join them sitting under the trees. I retrieved my hat on the way over and on sitting down listened to the 2 of them gush out to me that I'd just bowled out the school Vice Captain, with comments about how much of a hunk he was. Now you'd think that this little incident wouldn't have caused me any sort of problems....Well I was in for a rude shock! The following day during 5th period a note was handed to my Maths teacher with the request that Stephanie Tebbutt was to report to the principal's office at lunchtime. The obligatory cries of alarm and threats of pending punishment by my fellow classmates greeted this announcement which I tried to laugh off, but left me silently wondering what I'd done to warrant a visit to Mrs Lodge's office while not knowing of any instance of wrong doing. At the sound of the bell we all evacuated the classroom with most rushing for the canteen to try to get near the front of the queues. I instead headed towards the principals office only to find two 4th year students who I didn't know by name, already standing outside her office. As I waited, a student came out of her office and Mrs Lodge's voice called out asking Thomas Edwards to come in. While he was in her office a girl turned up and stood beside me, asking what I'd done to which I replied to with a bemused shoulder shrug. After Thomas walked back out a call of next student saw his mate go inside and shortly the sounds of a cane swishing through the air and hitting flesh which was repeated 3 more times. The boy walked back outside shaking his hands in the air and silently mouthing yeow sounds while quietly smiling. Mrs Lodge's head appeared round her office door and asked for Simone (the girl standing beside me) to enter. About 5 minutes later Simone came back outside and told me to go in, which on knocking and receiving confirmation I did. Mrs Lodge was writing something down and simply directed me by silent hand motion to sit down in the chair in front of her. On finishing the note she closed the folder and then got up and walking over to her safe opened it and extracted a file which she brought over and placed on her desk. The folder had my name on it, and she opened it up and browsed at it for a minute, making audible sounds as though she was agreeing about something inside of it. "Well young Stephanie, are you settling in alright," and before I could answer she continued on. "Your marks are extremely satisfactory. I see that your science scores are far better than expected." She then started off on another tangent. "Your youngest cousin....Bernadette isn't that her name?" which had me nodding in agreement. "Her form master says her Maths scores have improved dramatically this year. It appears you two might have your own little study group operating from the looks of it" which had me looking at her in awe and silent admiration, not to mention a little bit of fear thinking she was a witch with some incredible force able for her to know about that. "In fact Stephanie, your own form master (Mr Dunstan) has also written a very favourable term report card on you, which by the way you'll receive on Friday during your English class. Are you happy with our school" she asked me and to which readily replied that I was. She stared back at me before settling back into her chair. "Well, if you're so happy being here, then perhaps you might like to tell me why you want to leave?" Her words left me struck dumb and I was staring at her with a silent angst look on my face. "That's what I'd have to deduce, judging by your behaviour" which now had my mind really confused, because I was never any trouble in my classes. "Because," Mrs Lodge continued on, "someone with your obvious intelligence, wouldn't have done something as silly as play cricket, during a PE lesson, which I might like to remind you, that you've been exempted from young lady unless that person wanted to be expelled from this school." "Not only were you playing cricket young miss, but also had the stupidity to bowl out our 1st grade opening batsmen and then as if that weren't bad enough, trying to bounce him straight after that!" She looked at me inquiringly. As far as I was concerned she WAS a witch. How the hell did she know about that anyway? "I suppose you must be wondering how I know about these things. Well it's not through witchcraft young lady." Like hell I silently thought. "Did you know that Geoffrey Roberts has been copping merry hell over it from his fellow 6th formers she smilingly informed me. Stephanie, the fact you cleaned bowled him should have been enough for you to quit there and then. But oh no, not you young lady, YOU had to rub salt into the wounds by bouncing him the very next ball!" she said with a chuckle. "I made a point of speaking to Graham Smelling at recess and asked him about it. He quietly told me in confidence what actually took place yesterday after I'd heard snippets of gossip in the teacher's common room about it this morning." "If you ask me, I think it served that pompous ass Robert's right, but that in no way justifies your actions young lady," she sternly told me, before pausing and then continuing on in a more reconciliatory tone. "Stephanie, what AM I going to do with you? You're fitting into this school like a glove and based on what I'm hearing, no one has any inkling as to your true identity. I'd have to admit you've changed a little bit in appearance from when I first met you last year and I'll be even more curious to see how you look after your nose is fixed" she told me. "Now promise me that you won't do anything as silly as play cricket again and we'll forget about this entire foolish incident. But as I told you at your interview Stephanie, if anyone should find out about you, it'll be of your own violation," she told me. Silently, I agreed with her that I'd acted stupidly and hadn't realised the risks at the time of me possibly exposing myself. But her words now made me realise just how far I had pushed my luck and that pushing that far was WAY too much. I timidly apologised for my behaviour and thanked her for her tolerance while quickly accepting her advice to leave and get some lunch. Mrs Lodge knew I'd been thoroughly chastised and wouldn't repeat the mistake again. I was too on edge to eat lunch after Mrs Lodge's discussion and so for the rest of the day remained as quiet and inconspicuous as possible in class. The bus trip home that afternoon was even quieter because Nat had been picked up by her parents. I said my usual farewells to Greg and Mark and eventually found my way home. That afternoon the usually park practice Bernadette and I had recently started between the two of us was a dismal flop. Once Bernie realised my heart wasn't in it, she called it off and we cycled back to the farm. On Friday there was a mood of excitement on the bus heading to school. Tomorrow was the start of the May school holiday break and everyone was looking forward to it. During lunch with a few of the other girls we all talked about what we'd do during the break and were organising days for meeting up. When asked if I had anything planned for the break, I told them that I'd be in hospital having my nose repaired from a bad break several years ago. Nat and Regina were horrified after I told them all about the procedure went and about how when they saw me next my face would be severely swollen and bruised. I'm not sure who said what or too whom, but during Home Ec. class I first heard the term "bionic bitch" said straight to my face. It WAS a kind of mean and hurtful ting to say, even though the person saying it was one of the form dream princesses and a complete scatterbrain as well. Besides, I'd been teased by experts (my brother for one) so her efforts were amateurish to say the least. Anyway I had to suffer through a double Home Ec. class listening to these taunts eventually coming from almost everyone. Even the bus trip home provided no relief as I received the greetings of "BB" from several of the Home Ec. girls as well as a few boys, although how or if the boys even knew what it meant was beyond my thoughts at that moment in time. A quick hug good bye to Nat as her stop came up and then farewells to Mark and Greg after we got off the bus had me briskly walking home, anxiously wanting to wake up tomorrow morning to catch the train to Sydney. The next morning, with the milking done, breakfast served, showered and dressed I was keenly waiting for Foxy or my aunty to drive me to the station. Because I had to leave early, it had been decided by the others to drop me off and then for the family to go early shopping at Culcairn. So with a tight squeeze all six of us got into the large family car and after driving me to the station, they all saw me onto the train back to Sydney. The trip back to Sydney was a little more boring this time, perhaps because I'd forgotten to pack a book to read, but the relief I felt when the train finally pulled into Strathfield was hard to contain. Mum and Patrick were waiting on the platform for me and with hugs for both although Patrick's was somewhat restrained, we collected my bags, walked downstairs and flagged a taxi home. Because I was booked into the hospital the following day, any thoughts about a family reunion had been nixed several days before. The next day (Sunday) saw me being admitted by my mother into the Royal North Shore Hospital for my operations. Because of the travelling it had been agreed to that I wouldn't have any visits from them until after my second op, as I'd be home in 5-6 days time. My throat (Adam's apple) shaving and vocal chord tightening was scheduled for the following day, Monday. The one thing that my mother made me do was to take off my harness in the toilet after I'd been admitted and hand it to her for safe keeping. A few days later I was to silently bless her for making me do this. Of all the things I can recall in my life, the most unpleasant and certainly the most painful (except for when I had my SRS) was the stay at the "RNS". The Monday afternoon and evening after the 1st procedure had me waking up periodically to a parched and sore raspy throat. Under instructions not to speak, my pain and discomfort could only be explained to the nursing staff through pen and paper. Regardless of our agreement, that evening my mum and Patrick came over and we communicated through my written replies. Because of the need to fast overnight and the fact that I couldn't appear to swallow solid food my meals seemed to consist of several formula milk shakes and innumerable glasses of water. Tuesday evening was much better and although I could now swallow with very little pain, was still restricted to formula milk shakes. At the behest of the nursing staff I kept my conversations to the minimum, which not having visitors was quite easy to do. Wednesday morning had me prepped early for my nose reconstruction and by 9.30 was waiting on a trolley in the pre-op room beside the operating theatre. Nurses were fluttering around like butterflies offering kind words of encouragement being quiet well aware of my nervousness while I waited. Although during Monday and Tuesday I had been able to get up and walk to the toilet none of the nursing staff had discussed my gender with me which I thought to be somewhat strange. In actual fact the nurses 'were' aware of my gender and it was on Wednesday night (I'd been confined to bed because of my facial tenderness and the need to prevent the jarring of my face while walking) that on asking for help to go to the toilet, was handed a bottle instead without any sort of comment or look from the nurse. The next thing I can recall was waking up on Thursday morning, very groggily through eyes I couldn't seem to open up properly and feeling the front of my head absolutely throbbing in pain. Although I'd been warned by the surgeons not to breath through my nose for the next few days after the operation where possible, this instruction wasn't actually necessary. I simply couldn't breathe through it at all, as it felt like I had a severe blockage there and my breathing was coming in gasps out of my mouth. Add to that the constant throbbing in the front of my face and my misery was not only complete, but the constant pain was leaving me in a constant state of tears as well. The main problem confronting me was that with the pain medications in place they certainly stopped my face from hurting, but against that the drowsy feeling from the medications made me want to sleep and having to breathe through my mouth was making me choke to some extent and the constant movement of my head in the coughing reflex actions was sending shooting pains across my face and head. By propping my body up into a sitting position and taping an oxygen tube to the side of my mouth it enabled me to be able to breathe both in and out and that along with the head rest which didn't allow my face to lie any other way then straight ahead with the back of my head firmly resting on my pillows and not then being able to sleep on one side of my face (which is a natural thing to want to do) saw me make it through to Thursday. Thursday was still more intense pain. The doctor when he came around to see me prescribed further pain inhibitors for me which while working seemed to make me drift into and out of consciousness. Although I'd been scheduled to be released on Friday afternoon, it was decided to keep me in over the weekend under observation as very rarely did they do both nasal and throat surgery so shortly after each other and certainly not on one as young as myself. Authors note: In 2005 both of these surgeries were shown as day outpatient surgery such was the skill level required to do those surgeries brought about by such regularity in the procedure by that time! By Sunday lunchtime although the facial swelling had not yet subsided, the painful throbbing at the front of my face was now starting to lessen and was now almost tolerable. After a final consultation on Monday I was cleared to be discharged that afternoon and so walking very gingerly and carefully late that day, mum eased me into the taxi for the trip back home. On reaching home, I made my way into mum's bedroom and looked closely at my face in the mirrors. My nose was in plaster and the bandage wrap around it could still not hide the awful black bruising around that part of my face under my eyes and around my cheeks. My entire face seemed to be much bigger at the moment with the swelling. To most people I would have looked hideous and my reflection even turned me off quite a bit. The doctors had clearly explained to me that the bruising would take about 4 weeks to entirely disappear, but that the facial swelling would go down over the next few weeks. The plaster they told me should stay on for about 4 weeks, but would have to be removed temporarily in about 2 weeks for further confirming X-Rays to check on my nasal alignment. Mum came over to the mirror and gently hugged me reminding me that I was booked on the train back tomorrow. She also told me that she couldn't be with me when the plaster was taken off in 2 weeks but WAS planning to be there when it was removed permanently. "I just HAVE to see how my daughter looks like then" she told me with a hug and a smile. That evening I had trouble sleeping in my old bed. In fact because I was still a bit nervous of sleeping at all I ended up sleeping in a lounge chair with my headrest in place. The next morning was a definite struggle, between getting showered without wetting my face and bandages while being totally exhausted from last night and still be ready to catch the train back. Mum helped me wash myself but still had to go to work that day so Patrick had agreed to see me onto the train and saw me off with his usual handshake! That afternoon, I slowly and cautiously stepped off the train and will always remember the shocked expressions on the faces of my cousins and aunty as they saw my face for the first time. The looks of horror changed to grins after I hoarsely squeaked that any jokes mentioning the mummy monster or being called the bionic bitch would be settled once and for all after I was out of the bandages. This had everyone laughing so much the trip home from the station took longer then the usual 7-8 minutes because apart from the need to try not to jar my face on the bumps through the car wheels, shouts and laughter from the back telling me to duck when the car passed any pedestrian had us all laughing! It was Uncle Bill who had the final say (as he so often did) when on seeing my appearance told all of us that I'd better be careful of walking near the dogs in case one of them bit me out of fright. The good news for me anyway was that until my bandages were removed I was free of all my house chores although I still helped Bernadette that evening with the washing up afterwards. My facial appearance that evening had everyone in the house staring at me with discreet sideway glances during dinner though not very well disguised. To solve this awkward dilemma to what I thought was a definite problem, I suggested a meeting up in our bedroom with all my cousins and my aunty Poss. (No men allowed here) After I had helped wash up, Bernadette and I headed for our bedroom and were shortly followed in by Foxy, Margaret and my aunt. "To save anymore staring, it might be better if you all just took a close look at my face. Think of it as a way you can all help me get use to the treatment I know I'm going to get next Monday at school" I told them. "I've even got some happy snaps that you can all look at" which appeared to break the ice. For around the next 20 minutes I was stared at closely by each of my cousins and with answers to their questions had them coming back several times to see if what I said was correct. Aunty Poss simply looked at me with a kindly expression, not saying a word. "With luck the priest only needs to point me out to the congregation as a sinner this Sunday and he should double his collection" I told them light heartedly. The family went to church each week religiously, (if you'll pardon the pun) and depending on where the service was we often travelled upto 20 miles each way to do so. Aunty Poss informed me that until the swelling went down I could be excused from church. Although her offer was tempting it would have also set me apart from me cousins once again to my way of thinking. Explaining to my aunty Poss that unless her or any of my cousins felt embarrassed about my appearance I'd prefer to go to church, but that if she didn't mind I'd like to wear a veil or scarf to cover most of my face, which left her nodding not only at my request but probably also understanding my actions. Tomorrow was Wednesday and for the rest of the week including Saturday I made it known that at my own request I didn't want to go out in public, although car trips were ok just so long as I didn't have to get out of the car. That made it a very slow and boring 2nd week of school holidays for me. At least the jarring to my face when I walked was now no longer really noticeable. Sunday church was as bad as I thought it was going to be. Church on Sundays in small country towns was also a weekly meet and greet social event. I often saw school friends there and we'd always end up talking for 15 minutes or so after mass, just gossiping or else planning where to meet up later on in the day. Although I'd initially intended to wear a darkish veil hanging from the front of a hat to cover my face, for some reason on the actual day itself I decided to only wear a fishnet type of veil to go with the bandages covering my face and to simply go over and greet friends as I saw them. This direct approach was, as it turned out probably the correct thing to do. Various parents and their children did stare at my appearance during the services, but after church most of my school friends knew that it was still Stephanie under the bandages and so we all chatted (if somewhat hesitantly) amongst ourselves, catching up on gossip and generally socialising. What I thought would eventuate from church did, and the bush telegraph went into overtime that afternoon as generally most of the girls but I suppose a few boys as well, phoned friends to tell them all about me. Next morning on the school bus, I was faced with plenty of staring but very few acknowledgements. When Natalie got on and sat down beside me she was too nervous to say anything at all. It took my turning towards her and telling her in a scary groaning horror voice, that THE MUMMY was going to eat her brains out that had her laughing and so break the ice between us. We spent the rest of the short trip to school with me explaining what had happened and for how long I had to wear the bandages for. Because girls our age hadn't seen this type of operation s a rule, she was completely fascinated and I was to spend most of that day whispering in classes that we shared together all about the op and what it was supposed to do for me. On walking through the school gate that first morning, I headed straight for the principals office and knocked on the door. On hearing the words enter I went in and announced myself telling Mrs Lodge that this is what I looked like and having the pleasure of leaving her totally speechless, which apparently so I found out much later on the following year, was a rare thing indeed. By the time I left her office and walked back to where my first class would be for the day, the princess brigade had obviously been made aware of my facial looks and had decided to let me know that they were aware of my appearance while also making their stupidity clearly known as well. Screams of mock terror along with taunts of Frankenstein, The Mummy and of course Bionic Bitch greeted me as I walked over to the classroom. I'd been expecting all of this and thought that the best way of countering it was to ham it all up by raising my arms out in front of me and groaning like a monster. It stopped most of them from making anymore smart arse comments about my appearance. But the stunned looks on teacher's faces as they entered classes and saw me brought on fresh rounds of name calling. In the end the expression that seemed to stick was Franken-Bitch and I was stuck with this name until I came to school 4 weeks later without my bandages, along with a new hair style, which tended to stop the all the name calling, except for Bionic Bitch, which was probably because of my much smaller and cuter new nose. The one class where name calling and teasing were not going to be tolerated was in my commerce class. Mrs Clayton was considered by both faculty staff and students alike to be the school "beauty". Aged about 25 and with a figure most of the senior boys (and I think most of the male faculty as well) dreamed about along with long auburn hair half way down her back. A mere question from her gained many an excited and usually incorrect answer. Her response to name calling about my short term handicap gained my immediate admiration. Two boys called out Franken-Bitch and groaned loudly while I was answering a question from her on world economies. She immediately ordered both boys to follow her to the principal's office, where upon she spoke to Mrs Lodge before returning to our class. Several minutes later the boys reappeared with fists closed tightly by their side. They then individually apologised to me in front of the class before then apologising to Mrs Clayton for being so rude and crass. Mrs Clayton then announced to the class, that any further teasing in her hearing, she'd send the offending boy or boys to the principal for caning and in the case of the girls she'd set them a ton of extra homework. After class I stayed behind and thanked her for her stance, before heading off for my next class. Once her guidelines on the subject became known to the other teachers, they also adopted the same stance so at least in the classroom and the name calling stopped. This didn't stop the name calling in the playground or on the bus, but after a few days the novelty wore off for most of the students, since I'd shown them I wasn't going to break down and cry. It was mostly the princess brigade that carried it on until they grew tired of not getting any reaction out of me. Bionic-Bitch was to last for quite a while longer but in some ways that probably had more to do with my new facial look than my original black and swollen face. The sequel to all this took place around 4 weeks later. My bandages and plaster were to be finally removed on the 19th of June. My face had already returned to its normal size and the bruising was nearly faded away. Although I'd been told when they'd temporarily removed my plaster on the 5th of June I could leave my bandages off (but not the plaster) I'd already decided to leave them on until the swelling and the bruising had disappeared completely. Mum had booked to come up that Friday on the train and I'd been given a 1/2 day to attend the hospital in the afternoon to have the plaster finally removed from my nose. She'd rung the night before and told me that I'd been granted permission to wear make up the following Monday to show off my new appearance, but that after that it was minimal make up rules again. Mum told me she was looking forward to seeing my new face when she got off the train, so at lunchtime Aunty Poss drove to my school and picked me up to drive me to Wagga to get the plaster removed. By 2.30 the offending plaster had been removed and I was shown my new nose in the large hospital mirror in outpatients. Looking back at me was an unrecognisable face. My nose had been reduced in size and made more into a button nose style, affecting how my eyes, cheeks and chin looked. I was having trouble matching the reflection to the face I remembered I'd had. The doctor who removed the plaster and the attending nurse were happily smiling and when I turned and faced Aunty Poss I thought there was a tear welling in her left eye. With warnings about soft nasal cartilage and to avoid any bumping of my face for a few more months ringing in my ears, My aunt and I left the hospital and headed back to the car with me jumping out of my skin in excitement and happiness. We pulled up outside Bernadette's school and picked her before then heading over to the teachers college for Margaret. Both of them stared at my face not believing that by making my nose smaller it could change my entire appearance. It was a happy car that headed back to the farm that afternoon. Several roadwork delays meant it was easier to wait for the train then to go home and drop Margaret and Bernie off, so it was four women excitedly chattering among themselves that waited at the station for my mum's train. The reunion with my mum on the platform was a tearful one. Mum hadn't ever seen me in my school uniform and here was her daughter with a completely different looking face in her school uniform hugging her. Mum declared there and then that tomorrow had to include a new hair style for me, which had Bernadette pleading with her mother for the same thing, which under the circumstances Aunty couldn't refuse. It had been raining for most of the week and sport had been abandoned on Thursday afternoon so other schools could cancel transport so that meant a full days shopping ahead of us tomorrow! That evening Foxy and Uncle Bill also got to see my new face. Foxy was thrilled to bits and even my uncle had a glimmer of a smile on his face, which immediately disappeared on hearing his wife declaring tomorrow to be a day at Wagga for new hairstyles and shopping. Since it was now early winter the following morning was nippy, to say the least. I was really rugged up to do the early milking for Rosie. Mum was sleeping in the guest bedroom and being so close to the bathroom was probably woken up early by the sound of the shower working overtime. Since I'd got up early to milk Rosie I was able to again have an early shower. Now after showering and with it being winter, I was wearing a flannelled nightie both to bed and under my dressing gown to keep warm. Early that morning Aunty Poss rang her usual hair salon at 7.15 to organise for Bernadette to be able to be put in as a last minute addition, before we got into the 2 cars and drove to Wagga at 8.30. Fortunately both cars had heating so the cars were warm and cosy after driving a few miles. We pulled into the mall car park shortly after 9am and headed straight for the hair salon. Margaret and Foxy were simply having their hair trimmed, and aunty Poss wanted a recolour. Bernadette was looking through a style catalogue with my mum and I with aunty Poss calling out that Bernadette's style had to be approved by her first. My hair by now was well and truly past my shoulders and Bernie's about the same length as well. Bernie and I decided on similar styles but in my case with permed curled ends. Mum declared that I also needed a recolour as well, so it was decided to put an ash tint in my colouring to soften the sun bleached tips I'd developed. Bernie begged her mother to allow her to darken her hair, which after a deliberate period of procrastination by her, had the magical nod of her head and so Bernie and I sat beside each other and proceeded to get colourings done as well. As an early birthday treat for Bernadette, mum shouted Bernie a manicure and Bernie experienced her first manicure much to her mother's chagrin. Mum had already decided on manicures for both her and me and although my nails had grown longer, farm chores weren't helping my nails (or hands). Decision/solution to this problem..... Removable nail extensions with designs and/or patterns, which even Aunty Poss was amazed to learn of. It needed only child's play to allow her to let Bernie have removable nail extensions as well. At around 12.30 the four of us walked out of the salon looking a million dollars. We spotted Margaret and Foxy having coffee and strolled over to join them. Expressions of admiration were given to our new hair styles and on being shown our patterned removable nail extensions, both Foxy and Margaret were excitedly stating that they were going to get new nails as well for when they went out. Bernadette and I were far to excited with our new hair styles and long nails to sit still for very long and so excused ourselves and headed off to find shops which might have new clothes on display we could try on. Bernie had to stop every so often to talk to a school friend while happily accepting their compliments on her new hair style and nails. It was her nails which had several of them demanding to know where she got them done so they could go there and get them as well. We stood and looked at clothes in several store windows and on not seeing anything apparently new, passed up on going inside them. We must have covered every boutique in the mall without much success. We did try on a few items, but decided against purchasing anything. About an hour later a tap on Bernie's shoulder found her looking back at her other 2 sisters who were flashing us their new patterned nails. Margaret had chosen birds with glitter through them on a soft lilac background while Foxy had gone for a nail which had 2 different colours in distinctive stripes at the ends of them. "Your mum wants us to take you over to the cosmetics counter Steph" Foxy then told me, so we all headed towards GB's, which had its cosmetics counter just inside its front door. There we found my mum trying out various perfume samplers on hers and her sister's wrists. Mum stopped only long enough in her perfume sampling to direct me over to a woman, who on seeing our complexions immediately sat both Bernie and I down beside each other in front of a large mirror. While admiring our lovely new hair styles, she then remarked that like most young ladies living in the country we were now starting to suffer sun damage to our faces. Her words now had our undivided attention and so we sat with complete concentration watching and listened while she applied different moisturising products to our faces and hands and then began applying foundation to our faces. Almost immediately I had to warn her about my recent facial work, which she stoped to admire before letting me know she'd be careful in applying my make up. 15 minutes later we were looking at ourselves and each other seeing how the make up had changed our complexions. The cosmetics lady having told and applied the same make up to both of us then told us how by using different eye shadows we could look completely different, but be able to swap and change with each other. She did Bernadette first and on asking if she wanted to look sexy and sultry or if she wanted to look young and fresh, had Bernie quietly whispering to her to make her look sultry and sexy. The lady then explained how her hair and face colours were dark so the eyes had to compliment those colours and went to work giving her 3 slightly differing shades of pink to her eye lids. After 5 minutes or so, she took her hands away and Bernie was staring at the reflection of a completely different woman and was so completely captivated by her own reflection it took several efforts by the cosmetic woman to restore her attention to the lady's further explanations. The cosmetics lady then turned to me and asked me if I wanted to look sultry as well to which I shyly smiled and told her that I didn't have a boyfriend. To her jokingly shocked gasps she then told me that she'd make me look young and fresh asking me had I remembered what she'd told my sister about how to apply make up if I had a boyfriend to which I nodded back smiling. Your hair's considerably different because it's lighter she went on. So we're going to use a different palette for your eyes my dear and proceeded to work her magic which I was listening to with my full attention. Where as Bernie had had a pink palette used on her, mine were mixed tans and yellows. The end result had me looking slightly older but also enlarged my eyes. I was then told by using a darker shade of lemon I could also look sultry too. She quietly whispered to me that if I brought a palette she'd put the darker shade in my bag for free, knowing that those words would clinch the sale by my beaming smile. Both of my other cousins had been watching and listening to the lady as closely as we were. After we stood up, she inquired as to whether either of them might like to see how different they looked with another colour and to my surprise Foxy was seated quicker than Margaret was, waiting in patient expectation. Bernie and I then stood back and watched and listened as our two sisters/cousins were made over by the woman. The lady then explained to us all of how there were 6 foundation colour palettes and proceeded to use another 2 on Foxy and Margaret. About 15 minutes later 4 ladies with differing make over complexions were paying for their new makeup including the other 2 colours as well. Mum and her sister had long ago wondered off to look at clothes and we spotted them over in the far corner of the store, with Aunty Poss standing in front of a mirror in a plum coloured pants suit. Our walking up and on seeing her 3 daughters with complete makeovers had her smiling and also remarking that their dad would probably have a seizure when he saw them but laughed all the same complimenting us all on our appearance with Margaret and Foxy being reminded to keep a close watch on their young sister tonight at the movies! The pants suit was decided on and in a sudden decision explained to the sales girl that my aunt would like to wear the outfit home saw it paid for it and her old clothes wrapped up. We agreed it was time to go and headed for the car. On passing the cosmetics counter, Aunty Poss declared that she'd like to try a make over and with excited encouragement from her 3 daughters looked back into the mirror 15 minutes later with a smile on her face. With Foxy saying she'd drive the car over to the club, the rest of us decided to enjoy the winter sunshine and walked there. We found Foxy waiting for us in reception and then we all proceeded in to find Uncle Bill. We found him in the games room sharing a game of billiards with another member and although he'd been in here for over 6 hours certainly wasn't tipsy in any way. He admired his wife's new outfit and face while passing complimentary remarks to the rest of us on our hair and nails, but looking closer at Bernadette remarked that he was certain his youngest daughter was being corrupted by a certain city slicker girl staying with them. WE all had late lunches and then heard Aunty say that Uncle bill, her and my mother were meeting old friends tonight at the club for dinner so that we younger girls could go to the movies tonight and they'd meet us at home after them. Foxy was talking to an old school friend and on hearing her mother's word said that she'd stay as well and drive them home later on, holding onto her friend's hand as she said it. So that evening Margaret, Bernie and I were sitting in the Culcairn theatre watching a film called Close Encounters of the 3rd Kind - Directors cut, except Margaret who was sitting with the latest boyfriend several rows further forward while Bernie was sitting next to some boy she knew and I was sitting on her other side by myself on the end of the row. We'd gone straight to the cinema and had not stopped off to get changed so we'd rocked up in our jeans and tops, which with it being winter was far more sensible. We'd seen the film original so this film didn't appear that much different to any of us. I spent most of the time watching Bernie's boyfriend's hand rubbing her jeans crutch with her reciprocating his affections even occasionally leaning over to give him a kiss on his neck or lips, but it was all pretty much harmless cuddling and none of my business. We came home shortly after 11pm to find the others had already arrived home but had gone to bed. So carefully creeping up the hallway, Bernie and I quietly slipped into our bedroom and took off our make up, before changing and getting into bed far to pent up to sleep straight away and so whispering about Bernie's latest crush Graeme. After about 10 minutes of this Bernie said good night and turning over went to sleep. Next morning was an early service at Henty and although it was quite nippy I was still able to get up and milk Rosie and still be showered and excitedly dressed for church before some of them had had breakfast. Not that I usually looked forward to mass, but I was looking forward to letting some of my friends see me without bandages and enjoying their excited congratulations on both my new looks as well as my new hair style. It was fun to walk over to a few of them and wait for them to register that it was me smiling at them. What did amaze me was that some of them took more than a few moments to register that it WAS me, so much had my new nose altered my appearance. That evening was our usual family Sunday evening, except with mum as well and apart from making sure that our uniforms were ironed and our bags packed, we spent it watching a movie on television. Mum told me to wake her early tomorrow so she could help me get ready for school. So it was at about 7.30am that I entered her bedroom and reminded her of the time, before heading back to my bedroom. A few minutes later and rugged up, mum came in telling me that although I had permission for today to wear make up, she thought that it would be best if I wore very little, which surprisingly I'd been thinking the same thing the previous might. Mum sat me down and went to work and in far less then 5 minutes was brushing my ash fair hair with a soft brush allowing the permed curls on the tips to bounce back into place. Just a slip of wet look pale pink to my lips had me looking at my new self with a beaming smile. Just as the clock struck 8am I air kissed mum goodbye calling out my farewells to the others and headed for the bus stop with a happy springy walk, knowing that nothing could ruin today. Looking up the road I spotted Mark waiting for me at his gate and noted his surprised expression with a smile as we then crossed over the train line to Greg's farm gate to wait for him and the bus. The same thing happened with Greg and we chatted about the boring directors cut we all saw on the weekend. The bus driver smiled to me as he commented on the "new girl" as I got on and sat down to an eerie quiet in the bus. I was looking forward to seeing Natalie and was overjoyed at her stunned reaction on seeing me as she walked down the bus to our seat. She gushed how I looked so different now while also admiring my new hair style. One of the back seat "princesses" actually came up to look at me remarking in awe at how different I looked now. Just like the day I first showed up with my bandaged face I immediately headed for Mrs Lodge's office to show her my altered appearance. Knocking and on being told to enter I walked in with a beaming smile saying good morning. Her welcoming smile suddenly turned to a frown as she told me that I'd need to have another photo for my file, before giving me a happy smile to show that it was not a problem really. "Like your hair style too. It really suits you" she told me. "I see that your mother's a very wise woman" which left me confused. "I expected to see you dolled up to the nines this morning. In fact I'd say that if you had used anymore you wouldn't be able to come to school in the future looking as you are right now" she told me and thus also subtly telling me at the same time that I could get away with wearing this amount of make up in the future. She wished me luck for the day reminding me about the need for another photo for my file and allowed me to leave to get ready for 1st period. This time there was no catty comments even though the dream princesses knew who's back it must have been reaching down to take out a text book. That period had numerous fleeting glances at me the entire time, but this time not in horror or shock. A quick comment about exchange students from the English teacher and saying I must be the new exchange girl were similarly made through out the entire first two days by my teachers. But it was the look of satisfaction on the face of Mrs Clayton along with the comment "that's MUCH better" that made that Monday. Recess and lunchtime had me surrounded by both girl friends and the occasional inquisitive boy looking at my new face and saying how my hair style really suited me and answering questions about the operation. A few of the girls were saying how they were going to talk to there parents about seeing if they could have the same thing done as well, which fortunately for me never eventuated to anything. Hugs for now Stephanie. Authors Note: While I have never been a proponent of "cosmetic" plastic surgery except in cases of disfigurement, (especially where the surgery is done only for a person's ego such as face lifts, breast enlargements, etc) the nasal correction work I had done when almost 15 years of age really did change my life for the better. Aside from being able to make it easier for me to breathe, which straightening my nose was able to achieve, in my case the then cosmetic side did allow my personality to come out from its hidden alcove in side of me. While the events in this story did happen, I've glossed them over mainly through describing happy or funny events. However the intense pain I went through both physically and emotionally both before and after the surgeries could never be adequately described through my own limited writing skills. The throat and facial rectification surgery was enough to give me a slightly higher pitched (naturally feminine) voice and a softer and more feminine face, which needed little make up that also gave me the confidence I needed to allow me to adapt more easily to a feminine world. Believe me, if your child should suffer a broken nose, try asking your GP if there is some way to have it reset under anaesthetic allowing the child to be able to sleep through the first 72 hours as the pain (for me at least) left a mental scarring which took several years to shake off. My surgery was done by experienced plastic surgeons under exacting sterile conditions in a proper hospital. For those seeing cheap overseas surgery and thinking of having it done I'd like to suggest that you investigate the procedure carefully both for its effects/results on the body and also the conditions where it is performed, especially in Thailand and other south-east Asian countries. Hardly a day goes by however, when I don't stop for a moment to silently thank my late mother for her thoughtfulness, love and support that she gave to me growing up as a gender dysfunctional child. Annette Nicole.....