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School Girl By Annie James My mother is a very determined woman who usually finds a way to overcome any obstacle in her path. This story is about how, on one occasion, she accomplished her purpose in spite of the roadblocks, and how her determination affected me, Regan Lee Stevenson. Before they meet me, strangers, unaccustomed to my Christian names, chosen from the paternal surnames of each of my grandmothers, are usually confused about what gender to assign to such an unusual name as Regan. This story may add to the contusion. I always liked sports, particularly hockey, and was pretty good at it too, if you will permit me to boast a bit. From the age of eight, when I first joined an organized league, until the age of fourteen when this narrative begins, I was always one of the better players on my team, and I have trophies to prove it. I was not particularly aware of it at the time, but it was when I first enrolled in the league that this problem first surfaced. Each boy's parent was required to provide his birth certificate as proof that he was not over age for the group. This simple requirement became complicated when my certificate duly arrived in the mail from the government office. It contained one simple error. My sex was listed as female instead of male. The procedure for correcting this mistake required my parents to appear before a Justice of the Peace, swear out an affidavit, and submit it to the government office. The whole procedure might take a month, during which time I would not be allowed to play with my team. Mother solved the immediate problem by presenting the erroneous certificate to the league officials and threatening to create a publicity storm about sex discrimination if they chose to bar me from playing while the certificate was being corrected. In due time, the amended certificate was issued and the incident forgotten. When I was thirteen my father was posted by his company to Europe for a short time. He had only been home again for about a month when he was offered a promotion, on the condition that he spend the next two years in the company's overseas headquarters. My parents decided quickly that this was too good an opportunity to pass up, and Mother was left to complete the arrangements for moving the family after he had once more departed. I was opposed to leaving my home and my friends, but of course my vote did not count. "You'll just have to find a new hockey team to play with, over there," I was told. "Better still, you can learn Soccer. It's supposed to be very good for your conditioning, and will be a help to you when you get back." My opposition to the move was ignored. I thought I had managed to delay the inevitable, by saying my Birth Certificate was lost when Mother needed it to apply for my passport. I even flushed it down the toilet to make sure that it would not turn up. Her solution to that problem was to order a new Certificate sent directly to the Passport Office rather than delaying our application. The Passport documents arrived with only one day to spare before our planned departure at the end of September. Our furniture was being taken that same day to be placed in storage, so the family, that is my mother, my younger sister, Dolly, and myself, went by limousine to a hotel near the airport to spend the night before our early morning departure. Day 1 We were sitting in the hotel room, and Mother was reviewing the travel documents with us when I made the horrible discovery. "Mother! I can't use this passport. It says I'm a girl!" "Let me see that," she immediately demanded. Her examination quickly confirmed that an "F" had been clearly typed where sex was to be indicated. "Damn civil servants," she mumbled under her breath. "Some idiot failed to correct the computer entry when we had your certificate corrected!" "What are we going to do about it?" I asked, suddenly hopeful that my sentence of two years away from my friends and my hockey might be reversed. Mother did not answer at once. Finally, she spoke slowly and distinctly. "I guess there is only one thing we can do." "What's that?" chorused Dolly and myself as if with one voice. Mother looked me straight in the eye. "During this airplane trip, you're going to be a girl." "That's silly. I could never pass for a girl. Besides, what would all my friends think?" "They won't see you, and they'll never know unless you tell them." "What about Dolly? How do I know she won't talk?" "I'd never say a word! Do you think I'd want my friends to think my brother was a nerd?" was my sister's response. "Now, to get serious," Mother went on. "Your voice has not changed yet, and boys and girls dress so much alike nowadays that it is difficult sometimes to tell them apart. All we need are a few girl clues to create the illusion. How do you tell the girls from the boys, Dolly?" "Girls have curlier hair usually. Not straight like Regan's." Mother looked at me critically. "What else?" Dolly continued, "Girls usually have pierced ears." I groaned but said nothing. "They wear lipstick, and if they're older they have those bumps on their chests." "You're very observant, Dolly," Mother complimented her. "Put your coats on children. We're going shopping. - - - No, don't put your coat on, Regan. The buttons might hint that you're a boy. Here. Wear your pullover sweater instead." I complied sullenly, and had nothing to say as we rode the bus to a downtown department store. Mother led us first to the hair salon, and unfortunately for me, she was told, "Yes, we do have an operator who will be free in a half hour. If you come back then, she will be able to give your daughter a permanent." When I gave my name the receptionist wrote it down without even giving me a funny look. As soon as we were out of her hearing, I protested. "Mother! A permanent! What will I do when we get to Europe?" "Don't worry about it. I'll see to it when the time comes," she offered as reassurance. We filled the half hour with two stops; first at the cosmetics counter, where I was asked my opinion about the colour, before Mother chose a lipstick and a bottle of nail polish; and second in the ladies' washroom. Once more my protest was overruled. "Yes. You can go in here," insisted Mother "You were accepted as a girl by the receptionist at the hair salon, weren't you?" When we emerged for the walk back to the hair salon, the first steps to transform my appearance had already been taken. Both my lips and my fingernails were now coloured pink, an exact match for those of my younger sister. Mother had wanted me to sit in a lounge chair in the outer room while she and Dolly coloured my nails, but she had given in to my insistence that it be done in the oversized handicap cubicle. I had stood before the mirror though, to coat my own lips. How strange it had been to see the reflection of those coloured nails holding the tube of lipstick before my face! At the salon, I dutifully followed the operator to her work station and sat down as directed. While she was arranging the nylon cape over my clothes and pinning it around my neck, Mother began to examine a booklet showing hairstyles recommended for teenagers. The operator tilted the chair back and began washing my hair. Mother showed the styles to Dolly. I rolled my eyes helplessly, but again my wishes were ignored when she and Dolly decided on the most feminine style of all. The operator agreed that they had made an excellent choice. "You'll just love these bangs," she cooed to me when Mother and Dolly had left to continue shopping. She handed me a Teen magazine, which I leafed through idly while she snipped at my hair. "My God!" I thought to myself "Is this all girls read about? Hair styles and fashions! I'm sure glad I'm not a girl." The process of adding smelly solutions and working with my hair seemed to go on forever, but the time went a little faster when I finally found a magazine article called Computer Dating which appeared interesting enough to read. It was the computer, not the dating, which caught my attention. When the operator noticed the title she was prompted to ask if I had a boyfriend yet. I could feel a blush in my cheeks as I answered, "No." After the final rinse, curlers were wound in my hair, and I was led over to sit under a dryer. The sensation was very relaxing and I almost fell asleep as the warm air flowed about my head. It startled me when the operator came back to turn off the heat and lead me back to her station. Reluctant as I had been to permit the styling of my hair, I was quite anxious to see the final result. The operator prolonged the suspense by facing me away from the mirror until she had removed all the curlers and combed everything into place. "Oh! - - That can't be me," I exclaimed as I peered at the stranger staring back from the glass. The pert face, with its blue eyes peering out from under blond bangs, was as pretty as that of any girl I could remember. When the operator held a hand mirror up to display the back of my head, I could see that the rear view was just as girlish. "Ooh!" I said again, letting my voice trail off to nothing. "You shouldn't have any trouble attracting a boyfriend, now," commented the operator as she held up the hairspray can to fix my curls in place. "You do look pretty," said Dolly, whose face suddenly appeared in the mirror beside mine. "Your hair is very attractive, Dear," added Mother. "Perhaps we should have had it styled before. "I'm not sure I agree with that," I answered, putting emphasis on the 'that'. When the bill had been paid, Mother led the way back to the ladies' washroom. On the way she gently upbraided me for not replying when the operator said she would be looking forward to seeing me again. At the door of a stall she handed me a small parcel with instructions to lower my jeans and put the enclosed sports brief on over my BVDs. Innocently I asked, "What do I need that for?" Her answer shocked me. "I saw the lump in your jeans when you looked in the mirror to put on your lipstick. We can't afford to take a chance on anyone else noticing." It was the first time I ever realized that my mother paid any attention to details like that. We made three more stops before leaving the department store. All the while I was conscious of the bangs over my forehead and the way my hair seemed to fluff out if I turned my head quickly. Also I could not resist glancing at my reflection in every mirror we passed. Evidently Dolly had mentioned shoes as one clear evidence of femininity, whenever a girl was not wearing runners. Therefore we stopped in the ladies' shoe department, where I was required to replace my ankle socks with knee-high nylons, and have a pair of dainty pumps with one inch heels fitted to my feet. It did feel strange as I teetered along afterward carrying my runners parcelled in the new shoes box. I also appreciated Mother's foresight in insisting that I wear the sports brief. It had prevented any problem while the shoes were being fitted. Our stop in the ladies' sport department permitted the purchase of a double-breasted trench coat. As far as I was concerned it had its buttons on the wrong side, but Mother chose it specifically because she said she would be able to reverse the closure after we got to Europe. Our final stop was in the jewellery department. When I heard Mother say that she wanted my ears pierced and studs inserted I decided that enough was enough. "I won't let you do that," I vowed. "I've done everything else you wanted today, but that's too much. Besides it's permanent." My resistance was short-lived. Mother turned to face me with an angry look on her face. "Young lady," she declared, "your carelessness in losing that certificate has already cost me nearly two hundred dollars today. You are going to do exactly what I say. Now sit up on that stool and act your age." Whether it was the shock of being addressed as 'Young lady, the price tag which she placed on my misdemeanour, or the fierceness of her manner, I can't be sure, but I sat quickly in place as ordered. While the young woman wiped my earlobes with alcohol as a prelude to the piercing, Dolly tried to comfort me with words of assurance. "It won't hurt, Regan," she whispered. I left the store with a gold button decorating each earlobe. Confirmation of my changed place in society was offered even before we left the store. At the exit a young man went out of his way to hold the door for me. In an effort to be polite, I smiled as I said, "Thank you." His unexpected reply, "It's a pleasure to hold the door for such a lovely young lady," brought another rush of blood to my cheeks. On the bus, chivalry was demonstrated once more when a man volunteered to change his seat so that Mother and her two daughters could sit together. Back in our hotel room, another surprise awaited me. The shopping bag which Dolly had carried, was opened, and I was given two parcels. The first contained a small purse with a shoulder strap. In it was my lipstick and a small compact with a mirror and face powder. "You will have to corry this with you when we go out for supper and keep it with you on the plane tomorrow. Also I want you to empty your pockets. Your wallet and any other treasures are to be kept in the purse. Girls don't add bulk to their hips by keeping their pockets full. I think tonight before I go to bed I'll stitch up your pockets so you won't be tempted on the airplane," Mother decreed. Dutifully I obeyed her order without comment. The second parcel provided my greatest shock of the whole astounding day. I opened it to find a brassiere, complete with padded cups. "Don't look so shocked," Mother told me. "It's only a training bra, but you're a big enough girl that people will expect to see some development under your tee shirt. We got away without it this afternoon, but that was because your bulky sweater concealed your lack of a bosom." Mother required me to slip my arms out of my tee shirt and she fitted the strange garment to me. When I had pulled my shirt back into place the printed pattern on its front was distorted by what Dolly called my two bumps. If the hair, cosmetics, studded earlobes, and dainty shoes failed to convince people of my feminine gender, this final embellishment would surely banish any doubt. Under Mother's direction also, my lipstick was renewed, and some blusher was added to my cheeks. A tear rolled down my face while she thinned my eyebrows somewhat. After a short lesson in applying face powder, she pronounced me ready to debut in the hotel dining room. "Gee, Regan, you look pretty," Dolly complimented me. With my purse hanging from one shoulder, I followed my sister into the corridor, while Mother locked the door behind us. If my previous appearance wearing lipstick and with a stylish hairdo had made me feel nervous, you can imagine my state of self-consciousness as I walked along with my false breasts clearly evident beneath my thin tee shirt. I felt positively naked. There was a sense of pride, too, and perhaps a secret delight in all the attention which had been lavished on me during the day. In spite of my tenseness, I seemed to be very aware of all that went on around me. Was it my imagination, or did the waiter treat me with greater deference than would have been awarded to the male Regan? Would he have held the chair so solicitously for Dolly's brother to sit down? For once I paid careful attention to Mother's instructions about minding my table manners. Was the waiter looking at me, or at my chest, when he asked so solicitously if everything was all right with our meal? He looked pleased at my reply. "Everything is just perfect. Thank you." Would that young man at the next table have winked at Dolly's brother? His response to my roving glance caused me to look down in confusion, and I did not again look in his direction. Were his eyes following me as we walked from our table over to the cash I wondered. I did not dare look to confirm my suspicion. Back in our room, we prepared early for bed. Mother offered her help to remove my tee shirt with the least possible disturbance of my set, and I accepted without question the hair net which she provided to protect my new curls. The use of cold cream to remove the cosmetics from my face was another new experience. I was able to reach behind my own back to unfasten my bra. After donning my flannel pyjamas and laying out my clothes for the morning, I crawled under the covers. After tucking Dolly in, Mother came over to sit on the edge of my bed. She took my hand in hers as she asked, "And how did my new daughter enjoy her day?" Somewhat to my own surprise, I replied, "It was all right, I guess. It wasn't as bad as I expected." "I'm glad to hear that," she continued. "Do you know that you make a very pretty girl?" "That's hard to believe." "Well, anyway it's true. You make such a pretty girl that I'm sorry I couldn't afford to buy a dress for you." "That'll be a frosty Friday!" "I really would like to see you all gussied up some day." "No way. " She leaned over to place my arm under the cover and planted a kiss on my cheek. It was the first time I had been kissed good night in several years. "Good night, Darling Daughter. Pleasant dreams!" she said as she rose. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. Thank goodness this ordeal would be over after the flight tomorrow! "Just imagine! Me in a dress! What would the guys think? How ridiculous could you get?" I shuddered at the thought, but in a secret part of my mind the idea did not seem all that bad. Day 2 Early next morning I awakened with the alarm, but lay there just thinking about the events of the past day and dreading the challenge to be faced this day. Mother came to the side of my bed and touched my arm. "OK, daughter-of-mine, time to rise and shine," she proclaimed. I threw back the covers and sat up. "You'll be the first to shower, so hurry off to the bathroom, now," she added. Novel is certainly the word for my experiences as I prepared for that day. I had never before worn a plastic shower hat to protect my hair in the shower. Nor had I ever used bath powder. I decided that it felt good, and even that I liked the aroma, but I would not have wanted my buddies to smell it on me. Along with concealing my privates, my sports brief also narrowed my waist. Reaching behind my back to fasten my brassiere was a task which proved easier than I had expected. It was strange to he able to see my legs and feet through the fabric of my nylon knee-highs. True to her word, Mother had sewn up the pockets of my jeans. She had also taken an inch out of the waistband so that they fitted more snugly around my midriff. When I had donned a pink tee shirt and was walking across the room on my pumps with the narrow one-inch heels, Dolly described my figure as, in her words, "Groovy". When Mother finished making up my face, after another session with the eyebrow tweezers, and had given my locks another dash of hair spray, no one would have suspected that this attractive young person was really a fourteen year old boy, Our breakfast was delivered by room service. Shortly afterwards I donned my new trench coat, with its awkward buttons, and hung the strap of my purse over my shoulder for our elevator trip downstairs with a cart full of luggage. My thin-soled shoes with their narrow heels, combined with my free-swinging handbag, made it awkward at times for me to manoeuvre the heavily laden cart, and I received help from an elderly gentleman to pull it on board the car. We would wait in the lobby for our transportation to the airport. The desk clerk replied, "Yes, Miss," when I inquired if our taxi had been ordered, and the driver said, "Let me get that for you, Miss," when I endeavoured to help move the luggage. Evidently I would soon become used to "Miss," as a form of address aimed at myself. The "Miss " expanded to "Miss Stevenson," when we resented our tickets and passports at the luggage check-in counter, and reverted to, "Miss," again in the waiting room when we were asked to line up before boarding our plane. Our flight, like any long airplane ride, was boredom itself, relieved only by the meal breaks. The lipstick stains on the edge of my teacup served as a reminder of my status while I waited for the stewardess to clear away my tray. Afterwards in the washroom I experienced the awkwardness of having to lower my sports brief in order to empty my bladder. While I was not particularly bothered by most of the adjustments required by my altered status, I considered that nuisance a particular pain in the neck, or should I say pain in the butt. Dolly was happy for a little while with the view from the window, but she tired of that when we rose above the clouds. We were both bored with the in-flight movie. Mother slept during most of the flight. Angela, a girl of about my age, introduced herself and invited me to sit with her for a while. After we had gotten over the preliminaries about where each of us lived and why we were flying, our conversation quickly bogged down. She wanted to talk about movie stars, and makeup, subjects about which I knew virtually nothing, and her interest in hockey was zilch. When the subject came around to computers, we had more in common, but I thought her knowledge was a bit superficial. We visited again after lunch and waved each other a cheery good bye when we left the plane, but we were certainly not kindred spirits. Mother accompanied me to the washroom to refresh my artificial complexion and to enhance my aura of femininity with a dab of perfume behind each of my ears before we began our descent. We arrived at our destination about five A.M. local time, after a tiring twelve hours in the air. I, for one, was exhausted, and I know Dolly was too. Dad was waiting for us after we had cleared customs and recovered our luggage. Not knowing what reception to expect, I hung back nervously, while Mother and Dolly each received a kiss and a hug. I was about to put my arm forward for a handshake when the decision was taken out of my hands. "Dave," pronounced Mother, "this is your daughter, Regan. Your son might rate a handshake, but she rates at least a hug." I stepped forward to be enfolded in his arms. "You're quite a surprise to me, Regan," he began, after he had stepped back again to hold me at arm's length. "You're mother phoned to say what she was doing about your passport mix-up, but I never expected anything like this. You're something else again." "Is that good or bad," I asked in a worried tone. "I only agreed to this because Mother insisted." He hesitated for a moment, then broke into a grin. "It's good I guess. I thought it was a hare-brained scheme, but evidently she knew what she was doing. She certainly turned you into a convincing girl." A momentary frown crossed his face at my answer. "I can't wait to get back to being myself." "I'll do what I can to expedite that," he promised. On the car trip to our new home I was too sleepy to pay much attention, either to the direction we were travelling, or to the conversation between my parents. I did gather that he had tried to call her at our hotel before our departure, but the call had only gone through after we left for the airport. I was half asleep when Dad picked up Dolly to carry her into our new house. Mother took me by the hand to follow them up the stairs. They stopped first at what I later learned was to be my bedroom, and I settled gratefully down on the bed. I must have drifted off to sleep immediately, because it was several hours later before I came back to consciousness. Day 3 I felt disoriented when I awoke to find myself lying on top of the covers of a strange bed in a strange room. When I sat up I realized that an afghan had been spread over me, but the dressing table mirror revealed that I was still dressed in the clothes in which I had arrived. My pumps were beside the bed so I slipped them on in order to move around the room while I looked for my suitcase. The search was in vain. The only possessions of mine which I could turn up were my purse, sitting on the dresser, and my new trenchcoat, hanging in the closet. Mother must have heard my heels tapping on the hardwood floor, because she entered the room just as I was about to proceed downstairs to explore the rest of the house in pursuit of my things. "I'm glad to see you're awake, now, Regan," she began. "Why don't you run a comb through your hair and put on some fresh lipstick before you come downstairs?" "I don't see any need for lipstick. I'm not going to dress as a girl any longer." "Very well, but do comb your hair. It does look very untidy. Here, you sit down at the dressing table and I'll do it for you." I sat down as directed and rummaged in my purse to find the comb. When she had finished straightening out the tangles, she spoke again. "There that does look lovely. That style just suits you to a T. Now, won't you freshen your lipstick just to please me?" Reluctantly I complied with her wishes, and even took out my compact and repowdered my shiny nose. I turned to smile at her. "There, does that please you?" "Very much, my Darling," was her prompt reply, and she leaned over to kiss me. "Come along now, and I'll show you about the house and grounds." Our new house belonged to the company and both it and the grounds were much more spacious than ours back home. There was even a gardener employed to keep the property looking its best. I was pleased that this was his day off and I did not have to meet him dressed as I was. At the conclusion of our leisurely tour I asked Mother where to find my suitcase. "I'm sorry dear," she replied, "your father left again in such a hurry to get back to the office that he forgot to unload the car. He should be home again before long though." Her reply did not please me but I supposed I could make do until his arrival. We were sitting in the kitchen sharing a pot of tea, a very unusual beverage for me. when it occurred to me to ask the whereabouts of Dolly. I had been shown her room. but had seen no sign of her presence. "She only slept for a short while, and she wakened before your father left, so she went with him to the office." This was very uncharacteristic behaviour for both of them, but I attributed it only to curiosity on her part and his happiness at being reunited with the family. Nothing could be more uncharacteristic either, than me sitting with my mother to drink tea. It was almost an hour later that Dad and Dolly finally arrived home. Dolly came bouncing into the house and headed for her room with a new book. Dad greeted Mother and me in the kitchen, where I was helping to prepare supper. This was equally out of character for me, but what else was I to do to fill in the time? "Let's go and get the things out of the car now," I suggested. "I'd like to change back to my regular clothes." "There's no hurry," he answered, "I don't mind you dressed this way so there's no need to change just yet. Wait until we've had a chat after supper." "O.K.," I shrugged, "if that's the way you want things." I continued to help Mother while Dad sat in the other room reading his daily paper. At the supper table he asked if I had enjoyed my acting role over the past two days. When I answered noncommittally, Dolly piped up that she thought I was very good at it. "Regan doesn't take advantage of how much the boys like her though." She went on to describe how I had pointedly ignored a certain boy on the airplane. I suddenly realized that he had been too shy to come over to talk to an apparent girl, and my attention had been diverted by Angela before I could have made any overture of friendship. No doubt he would have had more to talk about than movie stars and makeup. Afterward Dad returned to the living room while we cleaned up and loaded the dishwater. Dressed as I was, it seemed quite natural for me to help in the kitchen. Besides I had nothing else to do, not even a book to read. Even the television programs were in a foreign language. When everything was straightened away, Mother and I adjourned to the living room to join Dad. "Can we unload the car now, Dad?" I asked as soon as he laid his newspaper aside. "Not yet. We haven't had our talk. Please sit down, Regan." When I had complied, he continued. "Did your mother tell you, Regan, that I tried to call her yesterday before you took off but the call did not go through until after you had left the hotel?" "I heard you say something in the car, but I was too sleepy to pay attention." "Then it is important that you understand why I was calling. After your mother told me about the passport mix-up, I immediately made some calls to find out how to straighten things out." "What has to be done?" "The holder of the passport must appear in the office where it was issued to swear out an affidavit. Otherwise, the government refuses to change it, and will not issue a replacement." "I guess that means I will have to fly back at once." "I wish it were that simple. Do you know what it costs to fly such a distance? " "You must have had the money to fly us over here." "The company paid for your tickets, but they won't pay for a return visit for at least a year." "Then I'll just have to wait a year to go back. What's the matter with that?" "One problem is that you will have to travel back as a girl." "Well I've done it once. I guess I can do it again." "The other, more serious problem, is that a foreign visitor can't do anything here without producing his or her passport. It is needed to register in a hotel. It must be produced monthly at the local police station. You even need it to register for school. And the schools are segregated by sex." "Are you saying I can't be myself? - - Be a boy here?" "That's exactly what I am saying. It will be at least a month before I can raise enough money for you and your mother to return home. In the meantime you are going to have to continue to pose as a girl." "And what if I refuse?" I had never before defied my father, but I was beginning to consider the idea. He had often in the past been my court of appeal when I objected to some rule imposed by Mother. On occasion he had even ruled in my favour, but now he was becoming the source of my discontent. "Your mother and I have considered that possibility. That is why I have placed your clothes where you have no access to them. You really don't have any choice in the matter. Until you get off the plane back home, you will just have to resign yourself to acting the part of a girl." Tears welled up in my eyes. Mother moved over on the chesterfield and put her arm around me. She produced a tissue to wipe my eyes just as I began to sob. "There, there," she soothed, "it won't be as bad as all that." "How do you know? You've never had to change your sex," I pouted. "I do know all about being a girl, though. There are some advantages." In spite of myself I had to smile at her remark. "Name one," I challenged. "You get to play with dolls," put in Dolly, who up till now had been sitting quietly in a corner. "Some privilege!" I started to sneer, but the ridiculousness of her remark suddenly struck me and I started to laugh. The combination of giggles and sobs gave me a case of hiccups and I laid my head against Mother's shoulder. She held me tightly until I sat up again as the hiccups eased. "We'll do everything possible to get you back home in a month's time and straighten out the problem," promised my father in a voice that seemed to indicate that he considered the matter closed. "Can Regan come and help me put away my things in my room, now? You said she might, Mom." "That's up to Regan, but it's perfectly all right with me if she's agreeable." "You both called me she Mother," I complained. "But you both know perfectly well I'm not a she." Dad interjected, "She is only a pronoun. It's just part of the act. You don't want them to make a mistake when we have company around, so you'll have to get used to it." For the next hour I did help my little sister arrange and rearrange her things. Looking back on it, I think calling for my help was her way of trying to keep my mind off my troubles and ease my adjustment to my enforced change of status. "You know, Regan," she said after we had shifted the dresser for the third time, "I think I'm going to like having you for a sister. My brother would never help me out with anything." At bedtime, Mother came into my room carrying a small parcel. "Here are some night-clothes for you," she said as she handed it to me. When she left again, I changed quickly into the pair of silky blue baby-dolls and scampered into the bathroom. As I looked in the mirror while I scrubbed my face, I began to wonder how I would look if I had left my bra on under the pyjama top, so I retrieved the bra and put it back on. I definitely liked the more shapely reflection better. The feel of silk against my skin felt delicious as I snuggled under the covers. Mother came back in and sat on the edge of my bed while she wished me good night. "I'm sorry this is happening to you," she confided, "but I will do my best to make it as easy for you as possible." "Thank you, Mother," I responded quietly, "I promise to do my part to the best of my ability. At least Dad gave me a time when I can expect it to end. You have shown me one advantage of being a girl, though. I like the feel of silk pyjamas." "I'm glad you do, Darling. You need some compensation for your sacrifices." She leaned over and planted a kiss on my forehead, before rising to turn of the light and leave the room. As I settled down to sleep, my future ordeal did not seem quite so daunting. My parents were not treating this as my punishment for having lost my Certificate, but rather as a problem to be faced by their child, with all the support and encouragement they could provide. I drifted off to sleep in a pleasant state of half arousal brought about by the caress of silk against my bare skin. Day 4 It was different waking up with the knowledge that for today, and the days to come, I would have to act and dress as if I really were a girl. I was still lying there, thinking about the events to come when Mother entered carrying a bundle of pink silk in one hand and a pair of scuffs in the other. "Good morning, Darling," she greeted me. "Slip these things on and come right down for breakfast. Your father is about ready to sit down." I clambered from my bed and accepted the proffered garment before realizing that it was now evident to Mother that I had worn the bra all night. She made no comment about my extra shapeliness, but departed immediately to attend to breakfast preparations. I slipped my arms into the sleeves and began to fasten the awkward buttons down the front of the lace-trimmed shift which ended at my knees. After slipping my feet into the plush scuffs, I took a moment to tidy my hair and started down the stairs. In the kitchen I greeted my father in the cheeriest voice I could muster. "Good morning, Regan," he responded, "My goodness, but you look like your mother. I see she loaned you her favourite shift." "It shows off the bumps on your chest very nicely," piped up Dolly. Her teasing voice brought a blush to my cheeks. Dad immediately took her to task. "Dolly, it is difficult enough for Regan to make the necessary adjustments without listening to snide remarks from you. Mind your tongue." Dolly looked stunned. Dad usually encouraged her teasing, even when Mother objected. "Gee, I was only paying her a compliment," she added lamely. Her usual cheery expression returned and she gave me a look of gratitude when I said quietly, "Thank you, Dolly." Breakfast continued with the usual family conversation about the weather and plans for the day. No one made any further remarks about my appearance. Just before he left for work Dad took me aside. "I'm pleased with the way you reacted to Dolly's teasing," he told me. "I know this is hard for you, but it will be much easier as long as you can manage not to get upset. No doubt your mother will be asking you to do other things today, girl things, like shaving your legs, - - and painting your toenails. Just don't let it get you down." "I'll do my best, I promised. He drew me to him for a hug before he turned and went out the door. He was right about the things Mother wanted me to do. As soon as the kitchen was tidied, she sent me to my room with instructions to put on my sports brief, but not my jeans and shoes. When I sought my BVDs to go on under the control garment I found they had been replaced by a pair of silky pink. panties. The panties were just a little large for me, but they felt oh-so-good as they slid over my skin. I did not remove the shift. I stood on the toilet and held up my skirt while Mother used a safety razor on my legs. I agreed with her that they felt very smooth when she finished. Then she showed me how to use nail polish remover and I set to work to redo my fingernails, while she and Dolly manicured my toes and coloured them to match. Colouring my nails was more difficult than I expected, especially using my left hand to do the right. After waiting while the polish dried, I replaced the silk shift with my jeans and tee shirt. It seemed silly that my coloured toenails were now invisible inside my shoes, though they had showed clearly through my knee-highs. Mother again supervised while I practised putting blusher on my cheeks. Considering the language problem, the strange currency, and the unfamiliar bus routes, Mother did well in getting us to a downtown department store. There I paid more careful attention and offered my own opinion as she decided on the purchases necessary to provide me with a basic wardrobe. While the language was still a problem, money was not, inasmuch as Mother's credit card was accepted for everything. She began in the intimate apparel section, where I was supplied with six pairs of panties in various pastel shades, three padded brassieres, all, by my choice, of lace-trimmed satin, a second sports brief, a high- waisted pantie-girdle, a one-piece corselet, (I tried that on in the department's dressing room to be sure that it fit correctly), three camisoles, three half slips, and one full slip. Our purchases in that department alone filled two shopping bags. In the jewellery department I was allowed to choose a watch, but we went to the costume jewellery counter to choose several sets of earrings, some necklaces and a bracelet. I wore a necklace and the bracelet as we left the counter, but accepted Mother's advice not to try the earrings until my earlobes had another couple of days to heal. While we ate our lunch in the store cafeteria, the bracelet sliding back and forth on my wrist as I ate, did not allow me to forget that I was supposed to be a girl. I was not very enthusiastic about the grey pleated skirt and white cotton blouse Mother chose for me, but felt better about it when she explained that it was part of the uniform at the International School which I would be attending. I was surprised to learn, not only that I would be starting school in a couple of days, but also that the uniform was de rigour. The uniform was completed by a grey blazer bearing the crest of the school on its left breast, and a grey tam. Perhaps as compensation for my lack of enthusiasm for the school uniform, Mother okayed my choice of a yellow crepe blouse with flowing sleeves and a rear fastening. "I think that's about all we'll be able to carry home on the bus," she declared, when a yellow sharkskin skirt with a wide black belt had also been chosen. She was amused, but pleased, by my enthusiasm for the yellow ensemble. "Oh, yes," she added, "We mustn't forget to buy pantyhose, but we'll have to come back another day to get you a Sunday dress and another pair of shoes." Back home I was anxious to try on my new clothes, but I obeyed without voicing my impatience when I was told to just open the parcels and put things away in the dresser and closet, and then come back to the kitchen to help prepare supper. As Dolly helped me to put things away, she commented wistfully, "Gee, look at all the loot you got, and all I got was one new slip and a school uniform!" "Don't worry, Sweets," I said, "This will all be yours before long, but it will take a while for you to grow into it." I leaned over and gave her a kiss. Immediately the thought arose, "Is this me, Regan Stevenson, talking to my baby sister this way? I must be going off the deep end." Dolly looked surprised and pleased at my reaction to her remark. I took the time to refresh my lipstick before we went back downstairs. By the time Dad arrived home, I had learned a little more about preparing a meal from the time spent in the kitchen helping Mother. The time seemed to drag a little as we ate, and cleaned up afterward. Al last, however, Mother suggested that we should go upstairs and she would help me dress in my new clothes so I could model them for Dad. I realized why she was supervising me so closely when I attempted to put on my new pantyhose. "Not that way, Silly. You have to put your thumbs down into the toe and draw them up to your knee. They'll tear if you pull at them. Now do the same with the other leg." There was no trick to putting on the camisole and half slip and I soon had the school skirt and blouse in place, though the backward buttons on the blouse still gave me trouble. It was pleasing to remember the silky garments hidden underneath as I checked my appearance in 'the full-length mirror. My nylon-clad legs below my knee-length skirt, looked quite shapely I thought, slender ankles and well-formed calves. As I turned quickly round to face Mother, I could feel the antron and lace of my half slip rustle against my nyloned thighs. "This uniform looks pretty plain," I ventured, "but I guess I look enough like a school girl." "No doubt you will be one of the prettier girls in the class, I'm sure. And as far as I am concerned you will be the very prettiest. Now, let's go downstairs so you can show off to your father." I put on my blazer, slipped downstairs and into the living room, and sat quietly on the chesterfield with my hands in my lap to wait patiently for Dad to lift his eyes from his newspaper. He failed to look up at once, so Mother spoke from the doorway, "Dave, you're newest daughter is here to show you her school uniform." Carefully keeping my knees together as mother had emphasized, I rose and walked slowly across the room, remembering also to keep my head up and my chin in. Before turning I removed my jacket, and holding it by the collar with a finger, draped it over one shoulder as I had seen a model do once on TV. Then I retraced my steps across the room. "I'm totally amazed at how well you play your part," commented Dad. "You'll soon have me believing that I have two daughters instead of a son and daughter." When Mother gave the word I returned to my bedroom alone to change into my other outfit. This time I started by removing everything and choosing fresh panties and bra, followed by my new high-waisted pantie-girdle. The pantyhose went on smoothly and I ran my hands up and down my legs several times to enjoy their sleek feel. I stood in front of the mirror to admire my own figure as my camisole and half slip slid into place. To say that I liked what I saw, when my yellow blouse and skirt were set off by my wide black belt and I had added a black necklace and bracelet, is an understatement. I was absolutely delighted with my appearance. Proudly I walked down the stairs to display my charms to an appreciative audience. Dolly's, "Ooh, la, la! " sums up the response I received. If I were to choose a single moment as the point where I began to enjoy the adventure of posing as a girl, it would certainly be the instant when both my parents started to clap after I had minced across the living room and back. For the balance of the evening my mind continued to focus on my egotistical pleasure in my own appearance. Later, in my bed, again clad in the baby-dolls, I began to wonder about my own sanity. Why was I so pleased to look like an attractive girl? "Oh, well," I reasoned, "it may be silly, but I have to carry on like this for the rest of the month, so it's probably a good thing that I am enjoying the pretty clothes. But just the same what would the fellows on my team say if they saw me dressed as a girl?" Day 5 I wakened sweating, after a dream in which I found myself, dressed in my yellow outfit, stickhandling a puck down the ice, and being chased by the members of my own team, screaming, "Sissy, Sissy," at me. Mother stood at the side of my bed with a worried look on her face. "Are you all right?" she asked in a worried tone. "You must have been having a bad dream. You've been screaming in your sleep." "I guess I'm all right now. It was a terrible dream. I was being chased - by monsters," I added after a pause. "If you 're feeling better, perhaps you should hop into the shower. Don't bother with a shower cap. Your hair is a mess. I'll help you with it later." I came down for my breakfast fifteen minutes later, a towel wrapped about my head like a turban. Underneath my shift a fresh bra and panties had replaced my sweat-soaked baby-dolls. The pattern of that day followed closely that of the day preceding. We were later starting for the downtown because of the time taken to curl my hair and dry it under a portable dryer, but our objective was the same, to buy suitable clothes for me, as well as a few things for Dolly. What was quite different was my manner of dress. My yellow outfit, complete with pantie-hose, had replaced the jeans and tee shirt. I felt very elegant. What more did I need? The list included night wear, my own dressing gown, a dress for dressup occasions, and shoes with higher heels for those same special times. The hardest part tor me was choosing among all the items which appealed to me. The variety of styles, textures, and colours available in girls' or women's fashions make shopping for oneself a form of delight that is unknown to the average male. After much hesitation, I chose a baby-blue waltz length silk nightgown, as well as pyjamas in pink satin. I pleased Dolly by asking her to choose between peach or pink for the floor length satin dressing gown with its large collar and full sleeves. She chose the peach. The matching satin slippers were sling style and open-toed with narrow one-inch heels. I must have tried on at least a dozen dresses before Mother and I agreed on a red velvet with princess lines. A week before I would not even have known what princess line meant. My new shoes had heels almost two inches high, and I realized that it would take some practice at home before I would be able to wear them with confidence. Dolly's needs received more attention on this second day of shopping, and close to half of the items in the shopping bags we carried home on the bus were hers. The final purchases made that afternoon were matching aprons for the three of us to wear in the kitchen over our dresses or skirts. The three of us worked together in the kitchen to prepare supper, and afterwards to clear up. After supper the whole family spent two hours playing crocinole. Dad and Dolly were the winners. Later, in my bedroom, I wore my new peach dressing gown over my nightdress while I puttered about preparing for bed. My last thought before falling asleep was that on the morrow, after washing my earlobes again with alcohol, I would be able to start wearing pendant earrings in place of the original gold studs. The thought pleased me very much. Days 6 & 7 I came awake slowly. No bad dreams had disturbed my sleep. It was eight o'clock. A week before I had been up at five-thirty for my last trip to the hockey arena. Today I rolled slowly on to my back and lay there luxuriating in my satin nightdress while I pondered whether it was time to rise. Finally I sat up and popped my toes into the dainty slippers beside my bed. Coloured toenails peeked back at me from the open toes. I paused for a moment as I stared down at them. I reached for my new dressing gown and slipped my arms into it as I stood up. What a delicious feeling it gave as I fastened the buttons and tied its sash! It no longer felt really awkward to do up the backwards buttons either. In the bathroom its voluminous skirt had to be gathered around me as I sat to relieve my bladder. At the mirror I admired the line of my neck, framed by the collar of my gown and with just a touch of lace showing from the bodice of my nightdress. The comb slid through my hair with scarcely a snarl as I restored my hairdo. With my bangs straightened, I took time to pluck several errant hairs from my thinned brows. Satisfied, I returned to the bedroom and straightened the bed before proceeding down the stairs. No sound came from Dolly's room, but I thought I heard a giggle as I passed my parents' door. My heels clicked as I crossed the tiled floor of the kitchen to take my apron from its place in the cupboard. Its ruffled collar went around my neck and I tied its wide sash in a bow behind my back. My heels continued to click as I bustled around setting the table and bringing the eggs and bacon to the stove. When the coffee was perked, the orange juice poured, and I judged that I had fried enough eggs and bacon, I went back upstairs to waken the others. "Come to breakfast," I called out to my parents as I tapped on their bedroom door. Dolly grinned at me from her bed when I peaked into her room. "She is a sweet little sister," I thought to myself. At the breakfast table I basked in the praises of my parents for having taken over responsibility for the meal, thus allowing them a chance to sleep in for a bit on their first Saturday together for several weeks. I did not at the time understand the significance of the giggles I had heard earlier from their room, or of the satisfied smiles they gave each other as they ate. Dolly shared the kitchen cleanup with me after breakfast, and afterwards I dressed, reluctantly I must admit, in my jeans and tee shirt because I thought that was expected for the Saturday chores. I did spend considerable time making up my face. Mother supervised while I learned to insert the stem of an earring through a pierced lobe, and I tried each pair in turn before the mirror. For the balance of the day there was always a pendant dangling beside each cheek to keep me reminded of my feminized state. Baking a pie occupied much of my morning. I had never before shown any interest in cooking, so Mother was quite pleased to show me the steps, and happy as well to have my help with the lunch preparation. She also promised to give me some instruction on the sewing machine. After lunch it was Dad who suggested that the ladies in the family might wear something more feminine than jeans for the automobile tour of the city, which he proposed. Once more I changed to my yellow outfit, touched up my lipstick, and powdered my nose. There was not time for me to experiment with eyeshadow and eyebrow liner. Mother consoled me with the promise that she would make up my face completely on the morrow. During the drive I was more interested in my effect on young men we encountered at viewpoints than I was with the sights we saw. Unfortunately, the one young man who was bold enough to speak to me in the presence of my parents, knew no English. I used the mirror of my compact to assure myself that my lipstick was fresh and my hair tidy before getting out of the car to follow Mother and Dad into the restaurant where he took us for dinner. I walked proudly behind the waiter, very conscious of my short skirt, and of the baubles at my ears. I felt that the male eyes, which looked at me surreptitiously as I passed, were well rewarded. Being offered our own small goblet of wine was a highlight of the meal for both Dolly and myself. Mother objected when it was suggested, but Dad overruled her. Another highlight was having my coat held for me by the waiter as we prepared to leave. Back home we played more crocinole as a family and again Dad and Dolly came out in front. Back in my room, as I slowly prepared for bed, it occurred to me that I it would be nice to get started in school soon, so I could become acquainted with others my own age. The last thing I did before crawling into bed was to replace my pendant earrings with a pair of keepers. Again I snuggled down in my satin nightdress. I am not sure if the greatest excitement of Sunday was dressing for church, or the actual excursion there in my finery. Mother watched over my attempts to employ eye makeup and eventually took over the application of mascara. When we had finished I was ecstatic over the result. Mother's comment, "You'll have the boys all tripping over themselves," added to my self-satisfaction. My velvet dress, worn over a one piece corselet flowed smoothly from bust to hips, emphasizing my slender waist. Its stiff white lace trim around the neck and wrists contrasted nicely with its deep wine colour. I felt it a shame that it completely hid my satiny full slip. The high heels of my shoes took some getting used to, but I was pleased with the extra emphasis they seemed to give to my nylon-clad calves. Altogether I could not have felt more elegant. My ego received another unneeded boost as we entered church. I overheard a boy asking his friend, "Who's the good-looking new chick? I've never seen her before." "I don't know," replied his companion, "but she sure is a neat number!" I tried hard to concentrate on the service, and contrary to my previous practice, participated fully in the singing. I was rewarded again when the woman in the next pew commented to her husband that the girl behind her had a lovely voice. She made a point of telling me herself as we filed out. The international community in the city is small. Dad already knew many of them, so that, in the lobby after the service, I was introduced often as his daughter. Actually he usually introduced Mother first and she was the one who named Dolly and me as their daughters. That evening as I was once more settling down in bed, Mother brought Dad into the room with her when she came to say good night. He spoke to me first. "Well," he began, "You have served your apprenticeship well, but the real test begins tomorrow, when you start school. I know it will he harder for you among other girls than it has been at home with us, but we have confidence that you will manage all right. Anyway, you know you have us on your side." He reached out and squeezed my shoulder, then bent over to plant a kiss on my forehead. He had not said good night to me in such a manner since I was five years old. "Dad must be worried about me," I commented to Mother after he had left the room. "He is concerned," she responded. "He doesn't realize as I do what a natural talent you have. I am concerned as well because, I know it is a strain for you, but I also know that you are enjoying yourself very much. I don't think he realizes that." "Yes, it actually has been fun this past week, Mother. After I got over the initial shock, that is. It's going to feel very strange again when I go back to being myself." "We won't have to worry about that for the next three or four weeks, so we'll face it when it comes. In the meantime I want you to get a good night's sleep so you can get up early in the morning. Be sure to put on your school clothes and no makeup or earrings. Just your studs and a touch of lipstick are all you will be allowed." She leaned over and kissed me on the lips. "Good night my Pet. I'm very proud of you." Alone in my room I thought back over the unexpected turn my life had taken in the past week. Here I lay, the rowdy, sports-minded boy of one week ago transformed into a teen-age girl, obsessed with her clothes and appearance, but dutiful in helping her mother about the house. I wondered how I would fit into an all-girl school environment. Obstacle Dolly and I rose in good time on Monday morning and dressed in our school uniforms She was thrilled that we looked so similar, except for our size and my nylons and lipstick. Right after breakfast we hopped in the car to accompany Mother while she drove Dad to work. At eight-thirty she parked our car in front of the school and we walked in the main door. At the office we filled in the necessary registration forms and were then escorted in to meet the Headmistress, Miss Glencock, a severe-looking woman of indeterminate years. She welcomed us warmly and after a polite discussion of the school's expectations from its students, she called for a student to escort Dolly to her classes. I sat primly, knees together, hands in my lap, on a straight-backed chair to answer questions about my scholastic background while Miss Glencock decided what classes I should be enrolled in. Mother objected when Physical education was mentioned. "But Physical Education is a compulsory subject," responded the Headmistress, "the Trustees are very adamant about that. I can only grant an exemption with a medical certificate from the official school doctor." "Surely it can't matter for such a short time," proposed Mother, "after all the enrollment is only for four weeks." "I have the attitudes of the other students and their parents to consider," insisted Miss Glencock. "However it won't be difficult for you to see Doctor Andersen. Her office is just across the street." Before Mother had a chance to back down from her request, the Headmistress had instructed a secretary, via the intercom, to make us an appointment. "I'm sure an appointment won't be necessary. I was really only trying to avoid the expense of buying Gym clothes," lied Mother. Our discussion continued for a short time while the final details of my schedule were worked out. Just then the secretary entered to say that the Doctor could see us at once. Mother repeated that it would be unnecessary, but Miss Glencock said a physical examination was required in any case and would ordinarily be given in school hours on the day following admission. "You might as well take advantage of the opportunity to get it over with." I could tell from the expression on Mother's face that she was disturbed by this news, but she thanked the Headmistress and we started across the street to the Doctor's office. "What are we going to do?" I asked. There was a determined cast to her jaw as she answered. "I'm not sure just yet, but I'll think of something. Let me do all the talking." There was no time for further discussion between us because we were ushered in to see the doctor at once. Dr. Andersen was a pleasant looking middle-aged woman wearing the usual white lab coat. She seated us facing her desk and began at once to question me. "Do I understand, Regan," she asked, that you want an exemption from Physical Education?" Before I could reply Mother interjected. "Doctor, before you begin I would like to know the limits of confidentiality of whatever is said in this office?" "The school does not have access to my files if that is what you mean?" "Not quite, Doctor, but that is important to me too. What I want is assurance that any medical condition discussed here will not be mentioned anywhere outside of present company." "I think you can rely on my discretion, Mrs. Stevenson. I would never pass on any information detrimental to the interests of a patient." "I accept your word, Doctor. Now I want to explain our rather difficult and delicate situation." Mother proceeded to explain in detail just how we came to be in her office. The doctor sat with her elbows on the desk and her chin on her hands until Mother finished. She looked fascinated with the story. Mother and I both breathed a sigh of relief when Dr. Andersen gave her reply. "I can understand, and I sympathise with your problem. I will try to be of help." Turning her attention to me, she stated, "First of all, Regan, you will find that girls' gym classes in this school are not like boys' classes in North America. There are no gang showers and students are expected to change in individual cubicles. I think you would be less conspicuous by participating in the classes than by not, unless you have some genuine disability, which so far I see no sign of" "The second matter concerns both you and your mother. I am willing to authorize your attendance at our school for four weeks, provided you agree to one condition." "We certainly don't expect to be here any longer than four weeks. What is the condition?" asked Mother. "I had better tell you after I have given Regan the required physical. You go into the examination room now and remove all your clothes, Regan. You can lie face down on the table. I will be in shortly to examine you. I did as required and Dr. Andersen was very thorough in her examination. Her manner was such that I was not embarrassed to be seen by a female doctor. Afterwards I dressed and returned to the office to sit beside Mother. Dr. Andersen came back into the room shortly and began at once to state her condition. "As you must be aware, Regan is about the age to experience a deepening of the voice, as well as the beginning of a beard. If the period of attendance exceeds four weeks, by as much as a single day, you both must agree that Regan will undergo medical treatment, under my direction, to delay the onset of voice deepening and beard growth. In other words we must delay the development of secondary male sexual characteristics. This would not preclude their development, but it would delay their appearance as long as is necessary. In the long term it might affect how tall Regan grows." Mother answered before I fully understood the implications. "That is a rather tall order, but since Regan will definitely be gone in four weeks, I suppose we can agree. Is that acceptable to you, Regan?" At my nod Dr. Andersen produced a :form on which the condition was printed along with the date and a space for our signatures. "Because we agreed this is totally confidential," she stated, "I typed this myself on the computer and I removed it from the memory. This will be the only copy, which I will place in my safe to keep it totally secure." Mother and I both read the document with care and appended our signatures. The doctor also signed. Mother did not accompany me back to Miss Glencock's office, but when I reported that Dr. Andersen had convinced us that I should enroll for Physical Education, my schedule was amended accordingly. A student with a similar schedule was called to show me around and I attended my first class at 11:30. Miss Glencock. must have been a good judge of character because my guide, Linda McIntosh, an Australian, and I were quite compatible and gradually became good friends. At lunch time in the cafeteria, and for the balance of the day we stuck together. During our study period we helped each other with homework. I must have been properly placed in my classes, because I found most of my lessons difficult though not impossible. When Mother picked up Dolly and me at the end of the day, I was toting a large pile of books from which to complete assignments. At supper Dad wanted a report on how school had gone. I reported that I didn't mind the uniforms too much, but I resented having to stay in line when we changed classes, and I was not too keen on addressing each teacher as Ma'am, or Miss or Mrs. 'whatever'. In the evening I followed Mother's advice to take off my school clothes so as not to soil them, and instead wore my nightdress and dressing gown while I puzzled through my homework. By ten o'clock I was quite ready to crawl into bed. Routine On Tuesday Dolly and I found our own way to school on public transportation and would use the same means for the return journey. I found my first class and took