My Wonderful Obsession - Part 41 free porn video

My Wonderful Obsession Part 41: The Operation As my bruised, banged-up body slowly recovered from that vicious assault, my restless brain began to play all these negative thoughts about me as a person and what I was doing - or not doing - to get myself on track. I mean, could my screwed-up life be any more off the rails? Okay, so I wasn't doing any illicit drugs - so far - but it seemed as though I was going nowhere fast. For instance, both my best girlfriends started college that September. Not surprisingly, Julia was enrolled in a business program, with a minor in nutrition. By then she'd been working in her folks' catering business so long that it was all second nature. Except, being young and fearless and eager to prove that girls could do anything they put their minds to, she figured she could a lot of things better and take the business to the next level. Filling the role of a supportive girlfriend, I told her if anyone could do it she could. And of course I couldn't help but feel pretty jealous of her drive and her abilities. Now Kath, she was taking a kind of law course. One of her older cousins had become a paralegal, and this kind of career must have appealed to Kath. So her program would allow her to study all aspects of the legal system, even police work, and get a great job in some prestigious law firm, and maybe not exactly meet the rich lawyer of her dreams, 'cause she was still hanging with Ben and all, but as she said, a girl always needs a backup plan. Whatever - I was SO impressed with her spunk and ambition! And very jealous of her, too. So where did that leave me? Well, certainly not in college, on account of not knowing till it was too late to register, by the time I learned I wouldn't need to work full time after all. Not that I had the slightest idea what to study. So I felt totally left out and left behind, like my life was heading for certain failure. College or university had always figured into my plans - not only because I wanted badly to be successful in life, or in my career (whatever that might end up being), but also because I might get more chances to perform on stage, in bigger and better shows in front of larger audiences. But that's not the only reason I was having my little pity party - Mark and Pam's wedding was just around the corner. And if I was sad 'cause Kath and Julia were off to college without me, it was like, totally depressing that my ex-boyfriend - for whom I still carried a blazing torch - was about to get married to his pregnant girlfriend. Ooh - that bitch's name still causes knots in my stomach! Calm down, Sandra, calm down - after all, she's ... oh sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself again. And I did feel kind of abandoned by the people I felt closest to, who were moving on with their lives and doing things I could only dream of. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd be doing those things too if I'd never taken this crazy detour to female-hood. Thanks a lot, Julia! All I had going for me was my job as a waitress and an on-again off-again love affair with a ski bum who didn't live anywhere near me, and who probably had umpteen other girlfriends strategically located all over the country. Oh, did I say 'other' girlfriends, like I was actually a member of that group? As IF! No, I was still just a pretender, an in-between, a misguided young guy who somehow ended up making himself over into someone God never meant him to be, by some complete fluke. Or maybe it wasn't so fluky, it was just a stupid, totally insane sequence of events that I should never have let myself get caught up in. Well, one thing for sure, I wouldn't have gotten beat up by that now- deceased low-life. What a complete and total a-hole he was! I'm still not sorry in the least that he's dead and gone. But, on the other hand, I DID have something special of my own - my 'gift' - a complete, total obsession with looking as attractive as I could ... preferably in the prettiest clothes, with fancy hair and makeup and all the other wonderful things only girls ever get to enjoy. That was so much a part of who I was, and still is, and it gave me so much pleasure, and still does, that I can say without reservation that it outweighed all the negatives. Well, okay, it certainly does NOW, if not so much back then. ***** But I digress - back to my so-called life. Now you'd think an attractive eighteen-year-old girl would be able to find a steady boyfriend to hang out with now and then. Well maybe if I'd actually been one of those, I could, you know, play the field a bit? Oh sure, I did get lots of come- ons from male customers at work, but unlike some of the other girls I never dared take anyone up on their offer. I'd always lie about not having my own steady guy. I mean, wasn't my life complicated enough already? So what about Rob, you ask? Well, he did call me once in a while (I mean, he left messages on our answering machine) and he emailed every week or so to ask how I was doing and what I was up to, and I always emailed him back. But I kind of kept my distance, if you know what I mean, 'cause most of the time, when I was thinking straight, I just couldn't see how it could ever work between us. I mean, he still didn't even know my true age, let alone the 'other' big secret! Then there were the other times, usually in the middle of the night when I was in bed, and I'd visualize him lying there next to me, holding me close and smothering my face with tender kisses ... amongst other things. And I'd resolve to hop on the next bus or plane and go see him and tell him how much I wanted him in my life, and maybe even move in with him. And in the morning I'd wonder how I could ever be so stupid. Besides, Rob was all settled in at the Keystone resort in Colorado, getting the mountain ready for another big ski season, and without a doubt there were hot girls all over the place, every one of them competing for his attentions. I'd never stand a chance, even if I WAS the kind of girl he thought I was. But I still wasn't ready to cut off communication, and I could tell he wasn't either. He still wanted me to come out over the Christmas holidays, and I must admit the idea was pretty damn appealing ... ***** As things turned out, it's probably just as well I wasn't attending college that fall, 'cause I'd be missing a lot of classes. Why? Oh, did I forget to tell you? That Dr. Cooper got me fast-tracked for my surgery? Yes, I was all booked for the big operation - that October! Can you believe it? And let me tell you, I was totally thrilled and scared shitless all at the same time. You know how it is when you're facing something really huge and scary like major surgery but it's far enough in your future that it's kind of abstract? Like it might never happen? But when it's only three weeks away, you start to know it's for real. It would be my second hospital stay in as many months, but for reasons I can't explain I was dreading it more than the first. Maybe, unlike my earlier stint, having a choice had something to do with that. Maybe Dr. Westerman was right - I really WAS having second thoughts. Or maybe it's just 'cause I felt so squeamish about the idea of someone cutting me open with a knife, and slicing off body parts I'd been born with and lived with all my life. And there would be blood! Yuck! Then again, whenever I pictured myself in a perfectly fitting white bikini, whatever I needed to go through to get there seemed well worth the trouble. But before any of this could happen, I would see Dr. Cooper one last time as a male. She did a complete physical from head to toe, inside and out, and recorded all my measurements and reviewed the results of my recent bloodwork with me. She said everything looked normal for a girl my age, and she made special mention of how much my physical body had changed since I first became her patient. I'd grown three whole inches, and she said my current height of five-foot-eight was likely as tall as I'd ever get. That was cool with me - if I'd stayed a male I would have wanted to be at least two or three inches taller, but as a female it would be just about perfect, if a bit on the tall side. But she was impressed the most by how my breasts and hips had grown. I already knew that, but it was really sweet to hear it acknowledged by a professional. She credited my early start on female hormones, which I knew, intuitively, as well. The best part was, it meant I wouldn't need any other cosmetic surgery to make me look more feminine, unless I felt the need for really big boobs. No, I'd thought a lot about that, and as sexy as I'd look in a tight, low-cut dress, decided I didn't need any more guys ogling my body than there already were. Anyway I felt pretty lucky to have real, natural breasts even if they couldn't quite fill a C-cup without extra padding. Then Dr. Cooper spoke with me for a while about my injuries, which she said were not healing properly and would have to be operated on all over again, to restore normal appearance and functionality of my male organs. That was only one of the problems I was having; peeing was quite painful after it happened, and it still gave me trouble. And I wouldn't dare try to put on my gaff - that'd be worse than death by a thousand cuts - so I could only wear dresses or skirts. She wondered if I'd experienced any erections recently, and I answered no, but I thought of a couple of occasions where that could have happened if not for the searing pain when the scar tissue began to stretch. So maybe my male bits hadn't been totally put out of commission, but it was all moot now, wasn't it? Strange - the attack was absolutely horrific for me, but for my silver lining I was going to become a real girl - and sooner than I could ever have hoped. It prompted Mom's generous offer to pay for my operation, and because my injuries were so debilitating, Dr. Cooper got me fast-tracked at the Portland clinic. "You would've needed reconstructive surgery anyway, Sandra," she explained, "and that can be very traumatic to your body. So I think it's best that you have it all looked after at the same time." Now that made total sense to me - even if I was still scared shitless! ***** Naturally, I couldn't wait to share the big news with my closest friends. The first was Kath - no surprise there - who kind of disappointed me with her ho-hum, so-what-else-is-new reaction - also no surprise, as by then I knew there wasn't very much that could get her all excited. "I don't see what the big deal is," she explained when I put it to her. "It's not like you're gonna be much different than you are now. Unless," she mused with a wink, "you decide you can finally be more, like, normal after they cut off your thingie." "What d'you mean, more normal? You don't think I'm normal enough already?" Kath tilted back her head and laughed out loud. "Sandy? I mean, ALEXANDRA," she said, rolling her eyes and saying my female name as though I was the famous Russian princess, "I love you a lot, but come on ... you gotta admit, you've spent the past, what, four years? Trying to prove you can be more, you know, feminine and ... and ladylike than all the real girls out there? Like, for God's sake, just be yourself! That's what I mean." "Well, it's not all about getting my 'thingie' cut off," I pointed out, preferring to ignore her little lecture. "I'll have you know, I'll be getting something pretty special in return ..." "Yeah, I know, I know ... but like, so what? This may come as a surprise, Sandy, but half the human race has one of those. And most of them don't think there's much special about it." "Hey, aren't you the same girl who was going on and on about how incredible and wonderful it was when Ben put his thingie inside you? It didn't sound to me like you thought it wasn't very special to have a vagina." Kath shrugged and smiled. "Well, I DID say most of them, didn't I? I wasn't necessarily including myself ..." "You fucking hypocrite!" I laughed, and she started laughing too. Then we hugged each other really tight, and like she'd done before, Kath planted a big kiss right on my lips. "Last kiss while you're still a boy," she whispered. "Oh ... you mean last time you can legitimately cheat on Ben?" I whispered back. Kath giggled. "Oh, I don't know about that ... I'm still gonna kiss you whenever I want, you know." And then she kissed me again. "I love you too, you crazy woman." ***** Well, I figured, if Kath wasn't going to share my enthusiasm, I needed to see someone who would 'get' why the operation was such a big deal for me. Erica, bless her heart, managed to find time in her busy schedule to take me out for a bite, on a mid-October evening only two days before I left for Portland. I found the perfect skirt-and-sweater combo for a date with Erica, and wore the new calf-height leather boots her style had inspired me to splurge on. It wasn't too chilly for a fall evening, so I left my coat at home. "Where would you like to go, honey?" she asked as we pulled out of my driveway in her beautiful red Mercedes. It took me a few seconds to reply, 'cause I was admiring her perfect blonde ponytail, which she'd somehow tied high on the back of her head with more of her own hair. I loved how it tumbled alluringly over her right shoulder onto the bulge of her breast. And her bright red skirt, matching bracelet, and matching nails and lipstick! She was always so well put together, I mused. "Uh ... how about that little Greek place? I loved it there. What was the owner's name again?" "Giannis," she said, smiling. "Such a good idea! I haven't had Greek since the last time we were there. So tell me, honey - how are you doing? I've been thinking about you a lot ..." "I'm getting better. I've been back at work for a couple of weeks. I'm still pretty sore there, so like, I take it pretty easy? My Mom still doesn't let me lift things, like shopping bags and laundry baskets ..." Erica nodded silently. I wondered if she could instinctively put herself in my place. "It must have been SO awful for you," she said, quite empathetically I thought. "Yeah ... it really was. I still wake up at night and see the guy standing there, like just before he hit me? And I just break out in a cold sweat ..." She nodded again. "Well, I'm so glad he's gone. He'll never be able to hurt you again, will he honey?" "No, he won't. Or anyone else, either. I can't imagine what it would be like if he was still out there, like even if he was in jail? I'd be terrified he'd get out and come after me again." Erica looked at me and took my hand. Our eyes met for a moment before she turned her attention back to the road. "Sandra ... I can't get over how genuine you are." "What do you mean?" Her answer didn't come for a few seconds. "What I mean is, you're always so in tune with your feelings. And you feel things so deeply, good AND bad - so much like a normal female. You make me jealous." "My friend Kath doesn't think I'm like a normal female. She thinks I'm kind of, you know, over-the-top? Like, TOO female?" "I've been told the same thing, honey." "Let me guess - by Edward ... I mean Ted, right?" Erica laughed. "You guessed right. But between you and me, I think he wouldn't have me any other way!" That made me laugh too, but it also made me feel sad. "Now I'M jealous. You're SO lucky, Erica." We pulled up in front of the restaurant and Giannis welcomed us like family. He was SO nice. And he even gave us the same table we had before. When we got all settled in and had a selection of appetizers on the way, Erica renewed the conversation. "So what's new in your life, honey?" "Oh, a bunch of things?" I paused, thinking of the influence this person had had on the way I spoke. Now I was always making my statements sound like questions. Oh, what the hell, I thought - most of the girls I worked with spoke like that. "Some good, some not so good ..." "Let's start with the not-so-good. It's always better to get the bad stuff out of the way first? Then you can just relax." Good advice, I thought. "Well, I guess the bad stuff is mostly about guys? And the good stuff - well, that's sort of a female subject, I guess." "Figures," she nodded. "Men are such turds sometimes, aren't they? So what about Mark? If I remember correctly, he was supposed to get married this fall ... has it already happened? Or did they call it off?" "No such luck ... it's next Saturday." "How are you feeling about that? Or is that a really dumb question?" "No, it's not a dumb question. I feel totally shitty about it. I can't believe it all happened so fast. Like, I know we were only dating for like, a few months and all, but I really thought we had something special? I mean, he knew all about me? And I'm pretty sure he loved me for who I was ..." "You told me he didn't care if you wore a dress or a pair of jeans." "Sort of ... actually, if I was wearing a dress, he liked that I was, you know, totally feminine? He did say he'd like to see me as just Sandy the boy sometimes, but later on I wondered if that was, you know, because there was a gay streak in him? Has Ted ever said something like that to you?" "Oh, at the beginning I was just a boy too, you know? A twenty-one-year- old boy? And I dressed like one, maybe a little more creative than most boys? And that was fine with him. But after I started wearing skirts, there was no turning back, for me OR Ted. I just loved it, and I was good at it ... and I could be a lot more creative - there are SO many fashion options when you're a girl? So I think Ted just got sucked in like I did. Now he tells me he can't imagine me ever wearing those clothes again." "As if you'd look normal in boy stuff NOW," I whispered, as Giannis approached with our appies. She giggled, and then smiled at our host as he set the four small platters expertly onto the white tablecloth. "Good appetite, ladies," he said with a grin. I gave him my best smile too as he backed away. "Anyway, when is the happy couple expecting?" "January. Erica, I just KNOW she had this all planned. She knew I was still in the picture, and she wanted to, you know, take him off the market? She's such a slimebag ..." "I'm so sorry, Sandra," she said, her voice brimming with sympathy. Wow, I thought - this person really CAN put herself in my shoes. Erica went on, "I wish there was something I could do or say to take away the hurt ..." "Oh, that's all right ... it just means a lot that you listen to me, and you care." "I DO care about you, honey. I only wish we could visit more often." "Me too." "And what about your other man - Robert?" "Rob," I partially corrected her. Well, at least you've met him ... but he's not really in my life. And if he was, it'd be a huge problem." "He DOESN'T know about you." "No. And he thinks I'm older, like twenty-one or twenty-two." "Isn't he working at a ski resort this winter?" "Yeah, in Colorado. We email back and forth all the time. He really wants me to come out there over the Christmas holidays." "So why don't you? It sounds like a lot of fun." "Yeah, it does and it doesn't. I totally love to ski - like, he's the guy who taught me? And I have such a crush on him? But there's, like, a couple of minor issues ..." "I can imagine what ONE of them is." "Yeah ... but the one you're thinking about might not be an issue by then ..." Erica sat up straight and looked at me, open-mouthed. "Excuse me, honey? Is there something big happening in your life?" I couldn't help grinning. "Uh, yes ... actually, that's what the good part is all about?" I paused for effect, then announced, "I'm getting my operation, Erica." She looked floored! "Oh my God! When?" "Next week. I mean, like four days from now? I'm SO excited - and so scared!" "Oh my GOD," she exclaimed, and then she got up and came over, and as I stood she gave me a huge hug. There were tears in her eyes. Just then Giannis returned to see how we were doing with our food. "A celebration?" he asked. "Is young lady getting married?" "No, even better than that," Erica told him, winking at me. "Ah, nothing better than being married," he scoffed good-naturedly as he turned to me. "Congratulations to you," he said, taking my hand. "But you need a good husband, my nephew is looking for a good bride. He's very handsome, and you're very pretty! You look like a Greek princess! What your name, pretty young lady?" "Alexandra," Erica replied for me. "But she's not blonde, Giannis." He shook his head and scowled. "Greek princess needs to have dark hair." 'Here we go again with the princess thing,' I thought. 'What is it about me, anyway?' Erica's voice took on a note of authority. "Well, 'princess' Alexandra already has a man in her life, Giannis. But please thank your nephew for the offer, and tell him we know he'll find his own princess very soon." I was surprised at how no-nonsense she was. Giannis just smiled, bowed and backed away without another word, and we sat back down. "Thank you Erica - I didn't know how to handle that nicely? You're so good with people." "You have to be in my position - but as a woman, you get a lot of leeway. Don't worry - you'll catch on soon enough." "I hope so. Like, there's so much to learn about being a woman, isn't there? Was it hard for you at the beginning?" She nodded and smiled. "I'd have to say yes, it was. I can't tell you how often I regretted doing something or saying something the way a man would, but experience is the best teacher, isn't it?" "I dunno - I still haven't quite figured out how to talk to men ... like my customers at the restaurant? When there's like, three or four of them together, and they're kind of teasing me? I get so tongue-tied." "Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about. When they're with their friends, men can be pretty hard to handle if you don't understand what's motivating them?" "You mean sex?" She laughed. "Sex is ALWAYS motivating them. Doesn't matter if they're gay or straight. But that's not what I mean. If they're teasing you, that's good, because it shows they like you and like being served by you? That's their motivation. And can you blame them? You must be the prettiest girl in the whole place. Men love being in the company of pretty girls, Sandra." "Hmm. You always say the nicest things to me, Erica. But I just wish I could feel more confident, like you? Would you consider being my mentor?" Her blue eyes twinkled. "If you think I could help, I'd love to. We should get together, what, maybe once a month or so?" "That would be perfect." I was ecstatic that she agreed so quickly! "Great - then it's settled. That way I can keep up to date with what's happening in your life? I'm finding it all so fascinating. Speaking of what's happening in your life, you were about to tell me all about your operation. Don't keep me in suspense, honey!" So I related the whole story, starting with Mom's surprise offer to pay for everything, and how my esthetician Karen had told me all about the Oregon doctor who specialized in creating fully a functional vagina with a real clitoris, so you could potentially experience orgasms. Erica had never heard of this guy, and naturally she was extremely interested. I thought she would be! Her enjoyment of sex was one of the main reasons she was reluctant to take that big step herself. On the way back out to her car, Erica spontaneously hugged me. "I'm so happy for you, Sandra! And you're doing the right thing for yourself, trust me? I wish I'd done it a long time ago ... oh wait, I changed my mind -this Portland doctor wasn't around then, was he?" "Probably not." As I got myself buckled in, I noticed how Erica automatically did the little actions women always seemed to do when they sat down behind the wheel - like checking her makeup in the rear-view mirror, and rearranging her hair. I was enthralled. "I can hardly wait to have longer hair like you. I just love how you did your ponytail - and how it falls over your shoulder like that. It's SO sexy." "That's the idea, honey, that's the idea." ***** Mom and I found ourselves in the check-in line at the Cincinnati airport at about six in the morning. It hardly mattered to me that we'd been up since four - like, as if I could sleep anyway. 'Oh my God,' I kept thinking, 'I can't believe it's really happening!' As we got ourselves and our bags and purses settled into our window and middle seats in the plane, I leaned over and whispered, "Well Mom, looks like you're finally getting the daughter you always wanted." She just smiled at me and took my hand and said out loud, "Oh honey, I've had that daughter for a long time already." The lady sitting in the aisle seat glanced over, her face showing curiosity at whatever that cryptic comment could mean. I kept it at a whisper. "Well that's nice of you, but I still feel like I'm your son, but in a dress? I'm glad I'll finally be able to feel like a real girl for once." Mom laughed, "You mean you didn't feel like a real girl when you went on all those dates with Mark, and Rob?" "Mom - keep it down, will you?" I whispered as loud as I dared. The lady was giving us sideways glances again. "Sure, I felt nice, and pretty and everything ... but there was always something that didn't feel right." I paused, realizing she could take that the wrong way. Oops! "I mean, if I thought about it, which I did a lot, it was like I was always acting the part." "But you seem so natural as a girl," she said, a little softer this time. "You must have been a very good actress." "That's 'cause I really wanted to be. Like, that's my whole problem, Mom. I have to be perfect. I have to look like the perfect girl, and act like the perfect girl, and dress like the perfect girl ..." "You certainly look perfect today, dear," she interjected. "That dress is so pretty - white really suits you." She was speaking louder again. "Does it? Oh, thank you. I just wanted to be, you know, as nice-looking as I can when we get there." Nice-looking? Yeah, right - what I was really hoping was to knock 'em dead, just in case anyone at the hospital felt inclined to question whether or not I was a good candidate for a sex-change. My new dress - slightly off-white actually - was just the ticket, I figured. It wasn't super tight or anything, but it still accentuated all my hormone-induced curves, and it had the prettiest sheer lacy fabric overlay. And it was my favorite length, about six inches above the knee. Not sleeveless, sadly, but then again it was now fall and the short cap-sleeves didn't look out of season at all. I'd also bought a navy blue bolero-style short jacket to wear over the dress in case the Oregon weather wasn't as pleasant as Ohio's. And my hair, makeup and nails? What would you expect? They all needed to be extra- perfect, and I made sure they were. After all, this was going to be my last chance for days or even weeks to indulge my obsession. "Well, try not to spill anything on it," Mom responded. "Or you'll just look sloppy." "I'll be careful, Mom." But that was one warning I took to heart, knowing from past experience how easily things like coffee and snacks seem to end up all over your clothes on planes. So I only drank water, and I leaned carefully over the tray table to eat my salad. The truth was, but I didn't admit it to myself at the time, that I was pretty freaked out by what had recently happened to me, and what was about to happen, so I responded by retreating into my female alter-ego much more than ever before. Wrapping myself tightly in my security blanket, if you will. And despite what I told Mom, I did feel pretty girly that day, even sexy, so I wasn't too concerned our seat-mate would suspect anything. We didn't talk much for the final couple of hours. Mom distracted herself by flipping through the inflight magazine, then a romance novel she'd picked up in the airport, and I just stared out the window at the never-ending view of the western plains and mountains. I marveled at how the pale whitish-blue sky near the horizon faded to such a dark, blackish blue higher up towards space. The entire trip was perfectly clear - unlike any flight I'd ever been on. It's like you could see forever. I smiled inwardly, imagining it could be a metaphor for this turning point in my life. I really had no particular plan in mind when I began taking birth control pills, and then found that I could easily pull off posing as a girl whenever it seemed like the fun thing to do. Events just kind of pulled me in whichever direction they headed, and I just went along for the ride. But now I was about to take a much more deliberate step, and the outcome would mean a permanent change of direction for Alexander Johnson. I just wished I had as much clarity about my future relationships, especially the male ones, but crystal balls are so hard to come by these days, aren't they? On arrival in Portland we took a taxi to the hotel and got Mom all checked in. She didn't even bother to kick off her heels before unpacking all her things into drawers and onto hangers - like she always did the moment she entered a hotel room. I just smiled, thinking of how much my little obsessive-compulsive behaviors were patterned after hers. After a short rest, we walked the two blocks to the hospital where my surgery would take place and I went through the admission process. Now all the staff we encountered knew from my chart that I was really a boy (like all of this doctor's patients), but it was still very gratifying to see how they reacted to my appearance, my voice, and my mannerisms. I got some really great compliments from the nurses who were taking my measurements and blood samples. Everyone was so nice, it made me wonder if they treated all their patients that way, or was it just me? Whatever, they made me feel really special when I should have been completely freaking out. Mom had sprung for a private room for me (thanks Mom!) and she helped me get changed into my hospital gown and settled in with my fashion magazines, a silly romance novel (to help make me feel like a complete girl, she explained) and the all-important TV remote. Soon I had a visit from the doctor himself, who came armed with a copy of my medical records. He spent at least an hour with me, asking about my past, remarking on my appearance, and explaining in detail what was in store for me. That last bit should have totally freaked me out, but for some reason it didn't - perhaps because of his friendly, reassuring manner. The next few days were like being in a thick fog - good thing, I suppose. So I'll try to share the things that really stick with me to this day. Nurses in scrubs fussing over me, being told everything was going to be fine, that I was a real trouper; then waking up from the operation and seeing the look of concern on Mom's beautiful face, and feeling completely numb from the waist down. But my most vivid memory is also the nastiest - the intense, searing pain when the drugs began wearing off. Definitely worse than when I was assaulted. Mom had often told me I had a high pain threshold, like her, but if that's true I'm sure glad I didn't have a low one! And it seemed like just when I thought the pain was subsiding a bit, a nurse would have to change my dressings and it'd be unbearable all over again. They had me on an IV- drip for the first couple of days, and orals after that, but I'm not sure how much difference they made. Thank God I made it through all that without becoming a permanent mental case. One other thing I'll never forget was the beautiful bouquet of fresh white daisies with baby's breath that appeared on the bedside table a couple of days into my long recovery. Mom had already brought me a dozen pink roses, so I initially assumed it was my sister-in-law who'd sent them, since she knew daisies were my favorite flower. The card simply read, 'Thinking about you. Hope you have a speedy recovery.' But that didn't sound like something Natalie would write, and anyway, the next day another bouquet of roses showed up with a card that was signed 'Natalie and Phil.' And then another, from Erica this time. Now THAT was pretty special. And the day after that, a really nice arrangement of tropical flowers appeared, with a note signed by all the girls at Milestones. I'll admit I was floored - but it had to be Chelsea, who knew the truth behind my leave of absence, while the others only knew I was having reconstructive surgery for my previous injuries. So was it Kath or Julia who sent the daisies? No, I thought, the note didn't sound like one of them either, and neither of them struck me as the type to send flowers - unless I'd died on the operating table. "Maybe it was your friend Rob," Mom suggested. "Mom, have you forgotten he doesn't know about all this?" I shot back. But who else could it be? Then, on top of all the pain, I had to deal with a panic attack as well. What if he really DID know? Holy shit, that was just too scary to contemplate. Then it hit me. And a huge wave of relief, followed by a tidal wave of raw emotion, enough to make me start crying, washed over me. Mom immediately took notice. "Honey, what is it? Are you in pain?" "No, no," I sobbed. "Mom, what day is it?" "It's Saturday, honey." "It is? Already? Uh, what's the date again?" "The twenty-third. Of October. Why, honey?" But I couldn't answer - now I was crying uncontrollably. Mom came right over and grabbed my hand and held it tight as she dabbed my face with a kleenex. Her face had a concerned but puzzled look on it. Then her expression changed a bit. "Oh, I think I know," she said softly. "This was Mark's wedding day." I nodded slowly, still unable to speak. "You still love him, don't you?" I nodded again, sniffling and sobbing so loud it's a wonder the nurse didn't come running. Wow - I was SO emotional, I actually surprised myself. What a basket case! I wondered if this what was in store for me as a real girl. When I finally composed myself, I explained that on one of our dates, Mark and I had gone to see 'You've Got Mail.' "I just love that movie, Mom. It's SO romantic. See, the guy, who's played by Tom Hanks, is trying to get the girl, who's played by Meg Ryan, to fall in love with him? But actually hates him because he wasn't very nice to her and he put her out of business, you know?" Mom was smiling and nodding her head, probably amazed at how girlish her new daughter sounded. I continued, "So when she's sick in bed, he brings her this huge bouquet of daisies? She says she loves daisies, like, they're her favorite flower. And he says he knows." "And how does he know that?" "Because they've been emailing each other for, like, months ... and I think she told him in an email." "I thought you said she hated him. Why would she be sending him emails?" "Mom, she doesn't know it was really him." "Now I'm all confused. So anyway, you must have told Mark daisies were your favorite flower too." "Yeah, I did. Like, we went out for dessert after the movie? We always did that. And like, we'd talk about the plot and the characters and stuff like that? Well, I didn't really have a favorite flower before then, but I really loved her character, you know? She was really strong, and really smart, and she had really strong convictions about how you treat people, and the right way to run a business and stuff? I'd love to be just like her. So that's why I love daisies now." I could detect tears in Mom's eyes as I spoke. I hope it wasn't because her daughter sounded like she'd regressed to pre-teen-hood! Whatever - it was kind of cathartic, that little talk we had. The realization that Mark was now a married man, and I'd lost my big chance with him, brought out an epic flood of bitter emotions, but it also reminded me that I was now a woman and I could still have a meaningful life if I set my mind to it. ***** I don't know if Mom ever got a look at my mutilated crotch while I was in the hospital - she never said anything. But I sure did, when the surgical dressings were removed, courtesy of the good doctor who held a mirror so he could describe everything for my supposed benefit. Did I ever tell you I'm a super-squeamish person? That I can't stand to look at blood and guts? Well it all looked so horrifying that I barely remembered anything he said. And it looked nothing at all like how I remember Julia's looked, let alone any of the pictures of women's vulvas I'd checked out in the library and on-line. No, Sandra Johnson's crotch was just a mass of bloaty-looking purple and red flesh, with two catheters draining who-knows-what from who-knows-where. And I began to have serious doubts about the doctor's workmanship. But over the next couple of weeks, each time I got another look at myself I was a bit less bruised-looking and what I saw began to resemble, more and more, a real woman's vulva. The only real downer was having my new vagina dilated, which was oh-so uncomfortable but absolutely necessary if I ever wanted to have proper sex with a man. The nurses showed me how to do it myself, and within a few days of being discharged I'd mastered the process. Mom had flown back home the day before Hallowe'en. I know she'd have preferred to stay with me the entire three weeks, but she really needed to keep tabs on her cleaning staff. "You just want some of that candy for yourself!" I kidded her. Besides, I told her, I was doing fine. That was probably a lie, since the whole experience for me was quite overwhelming. But after a week's recovery, my body was definitely showing signs of being on the mend. The doctor told me I should be able to go home to finish my recuperation before the middle of November, which meant everything had indeed gone well, and supposedly my youth was helping to speed up the rate of healing. A big milestone was getting the urinary catheter removed, so I could pee on my own again. The nurses joked that I'd have to learn to pee seated on the toilet, and I let them have their laugh, not mentioning that I'd been doing just that for years. Finally my discharge day came. I'd packed a simple long blue dress and a thick, soft sweater and flats for the flight home, opting for maximum comfort rather than impact. Leaving was pretty emotional for me, since I'd become really attached to some of the nurses. I got the impression they thought of me as a female just like them, the way they treated me. I gave them all big teary hugs and thanked them for looking after me so well. But anyway, it wasn't really goodbye because I was scheduled to come back in January for a 'check-up' and possible 'tweaks' to make sure everything was as perfect as it could possibly be. By then I was about ninety percent healed, but the doctor had warned me not to have sex for at least another six weeks - as if there was any chance of that happening. My window seat ahead of the wing gave me a really nice view, which turned out to be a good thing because I was able to pretend to pay attention to the mountains below rather than the guy sitting next to me, who seemed overly eager to engage me in conversation. His first comment came before he even fastened his seatbelt: "Hey, I like that perfume you're wearing. Perfect for a pretty girl like you!" Not wanting to seem ungrateful, I thanked him for the compliment but I should have known that would only make him bolder. He asked where I lived, where had I gone to school, what I did for a living ... and silly me, I answered all his questions, hoping he'd be satisfied and that would put an end to it - I was in a reflective mood and I'd been looking forward to some time alone with my thoughts. But he just kept chatting away, telling me his name, asking mine, etc. etc. So I fished my Cosmopolitan magazine out of my carry-on bag and opened it, and that seemed to work until the plane started rolling, then the view out the window became my focus. That little experience made me reflect on my new reality - the one I'd be living with for the rest of my life. I don't think it'd hit me before my operation, even though, for all intents and purposes, I'd been a female for quite some time. But now there was a difference in how I perceived myself - my feet were now planted firmly on the other side of that line - or should I say wall - that separates men and women. And there would be no going back to the other side, no matter how I felt about men ogling me, making passes at me or even just trying to make conversation. Natalie picked me up at the airport, and after more teary hugs, I grabbed my bag off the carousel, avoiding any eye contact with my seat- mate, who I knew was staring at me from a few feet away. "Let's go," I urged my sister-in-law, and I quickly forgot about him as we chatted like sisters all the way home and over dinner with Mom and Phil at our house. "So what's up next in your life, Sandy?" she asked with everyone listening. "I honestly haven't even thought about that," was my reply. "Guess I'll just go back to work and take it from there." ***** And it WAS good to get back to work - after another week convalescing at home. Everyone there greeted me warmly and I got lots of hugs, and questions about how I was feeling, how did the surgery go, etc. etc. I tried my best to give decent answers without divulging too much. And I thanked everyone for the flowers. I think my attitude toward my job and my approach to my customers actually improved. Chelsea, who was keeping close tabs on me in the days after I returned, seemed to think so. And the tips were better than ever before. Looking back, I'm thinking it was all psychological - before, it was always in the back of my mind that I was only masquerading as a sexy waitress. Sure, I was good enough at it, thanks to my shape and my looks, but I was still a phoney, you know? And every minute of every hour I was there, dressed in that short black skirt and revealing top, I could feel my squished-up male organs reminding me about it. But after that penis and scrotum got replaced by a vagina, everything changed. Except for some sporadic moments of discomfort as things finished healing, it was as if I didn't have anything there at all. Oh, but I knew very well I had something there, and the reminders only gave me moments of intense pleasure that my body was finally in sync with my appearance. If that translated to doing my job well, then so much the better! But, I'd decided by then, waiting tables wasn't the be-all and end-all career for me. It didn't help seeing my two best girlfriends, not to mention my brother and his new wife, moving their lives forward by going to college. I did talk to Chelsea about it, and she reminded me that a job in the service industry could pay really well, and any job is a good job, it's what you make of it that counts. Good points, I thought. But an article I'd read in one of the women's magazines while I was in hospital had caught my interest. It was titled 'Are We There Yet?' and it made me think of my feminist friend, Julia. The article was all about how, with the turn of the millennium just around the corner, one of the central promises of feminism, namely job equality, was still an elusive goal. Women were still finding themselves hitting glass ceilings in the workplace, and they were only earning something like sixty or seventy percent of what men earned in the same kinds of jobs. And that struck me as SO unfair, especially if I hoped to find a fulfilling career as a woman, making enough to be able to support myself. I mean, how likely was it that I'd ever meet my own Edward? Not very ... But glass ceilings and job inequality notwithstanding, a seed had been planted. As much as I enjoyed my waitress job, it was hard to imagine I could make a solo career out of it. The money just wasn't good enough. Some of the girls seemed okay with the arrangement, but for them it was either a way to cover personal expenses like clothes while they were attending college, or they were more the party-girl type - staying up late and sleeping in - so a job with flexible hours where you don't have to show up till eleven or even later was right up their alley, and those girls usually had a roommate or a live-in boyfriend. I, on the other hand, was one of those annoying morning people (at least that's what THEY called me) who liked getting her work finished early so she could enjoy the evening - assuming there was someone in her life to enjoy it with. And Miles' no-dating rule meant it'd be tough to find a suitable mate amongst our customers, even if that one-and-only diamond- in-the-rough would ever walk through the door in the first place. After a year there, I hadn't managed to bump into anyone (unattached) who showed promise, even if I HAD been allowed to date them. One other thing the article mentioned was how women were far more likely to meet their future spouse at work than in a bar. Well, Milestones was more of a bar than a workplace, I figured, so that must be my problem. Whatever - like I said, a seed had been planted and my days as a waitress were numbered from that point on. I explained all this to Erica at our second monthly get-together - on the drive home after spending most of the evening answering all her questions about my operation. I was certain she'd be discussing the possibility of her own surgery with Edward, recalling how she told me early in our friendship that she felt it was a now-or-never proposition for her. So I told her I hoped he'd be agreeable to the whole idea of her becoming a complete woman, and she said "I hope so too." "I think you should look into office work," she opined as we pulled into my driveway. "You're very presentable, you know. I can help with clothing choices, and makeup - but you'd need to tone it down a bit?" "You mean daytime makeup as opposed to evening makeup?" "Uh-huh - that's the idea, honey. And those short skirts look pretty hot on you, but they wouldn't cut it in an office job." "I guess not. So what kind of office work d'you think I could do?" "Oh, just about anything? There's always an opening for an attractive administrative assistant." "Really? What makes you think that?" She smiled. "Because the pretty ones have a bad habit of getting married, and in no time they're having babies!" "Well they wouldn't have to worry about that with me, would they?" Now she laughed. "That's just it - you ARE one of the prettier ones. I can't imagine you being on the market for long, honey! Now you might have a little trouble getting pregnant, I'll give you that. But they wouldn't know it, would they?" "I guess not - but it'll be fun trying!" I said with a wink. "Well, whatever - I'm interested. It'd be kinda cool to work in an office? I love the kinds of outfits they have now." "Oh Sandra, I think you'd look amazing in a matching skirt and jacket ensemble. A real professional girl! I'd love to go shopping with you?" "I can't wait!" I squealed. And that's exactly how I felt about the whole idea. ***** I have to tell you, feeling 'whole' and 'right' at long last was the most amazing experience. Even the little things, like how my panties finally fit my body perfectly - without having to fight in vain to conceal a penis and scrotum, and always worrying about gaff straps showing through tight clothes - were an absolute revelation. I can say without reservation, from the day of my surgery on, I never missed my male accessories. In fact, it was totally the opposite. It was like I'd been reincarnated, only this time in the 'right' body, and it seemed like a previous life when I had to be constantly panicked about being found out. I think I made a nuisance of myself trying to explain all this to Kath, who, I should have known, just couldn't get it. She was still into this utopian mindset, where it didn't matter what you were, what your body looked like, or what you wore - everyone should be valued, supported and celebrated for however they express their own individuality. So, in her mind, everything I'd been through in my life, with the possible exception of the assault, didn't count for much in comparison to others who had bigger struggles and challenges than I'd ever experienced. And, trying to be mindful of her own 'challenges' that year, I thought it best to just be agreeable. Julia reacted a bit differently, though. I found her to be more supportive and a better listener, although she had an interesting take on my sex-change. Her default position was that being a female was like a 'calling' - as though only one of every two human beings was special enough to inhabit the role of a woman in a man's world. The trouble was, she made it sound more like a sentence - like 'it's a thankless job, but someone has to do it' - that sort of thing. It reminded me of Kath's mom, and I would encounter a lot more women in the years to come who had that same attitude. "I still think you're nuts for doing this," Julia told me. "I sure hope you're up for it." Again, I thought it best to be agreeable. Maybe there really WAS a lot more downside to being a woman than there was to be a man, I thought, but I'd already learned that your attitude had a lot to do with your level of satisfaction and fulfilment as a woman. Erica was certainly the poster girl for that. ***** About five weeks post-surgery, I was back in Dr. Cooper's office for a routine check-up. She asked how I was doing with my dilations, and I answered fine, that they were getting a lot easier and less painful to do, and that I was doing them religiously according to instructions. Then she asked if she could examine me, which I uneasily agreed to (as if I could have said no) and I was very happy when she stated that my new female parts were healing extremely well, and even better, that the reconstruction was better than she'd ever seen. Hearing that made the exam all worthwhile! Dr. Cooper also gave me a new hormone prescription. "You can go on a reduced dosage from now on," she explained. But as usual, I found things to worry about. "What about hair growth?" I asked. "Like, do you think the hair on my legs will grow faster? And what about my face? And my voice?" She smiled, "No, honey, I don't think you need to worry about those things any longer. Your body's not producing androgens anymore, so whatever your hair growth is now, it won't be affected. Aging has some effect, but every woman has to deal with that. Oh, and pregnancy - but you're not exactly at risk for that, are you?" 'Too bad,' was the thought that went through my mind. "Well, I'm not on birth control anymore," I joked, and that made her laugh. "A good thing, Sandra. A very good thing." ***** I got a phone call from Megan McCowan that December. When I heard her voice I remember thinking, 'Oh no - is there something wrong with Mark?' But nothing too serious, as it turned out. She was just asking if I'd seen the new 'Toy Story 2' movie yet, and if not, would I go with her? I'll admit I was thrilled that she thought of me, and I told her so. "It wasn't really my idea," she confessed. "Mark was supposed to take me, but he has to work every day. He said I should see if you wanted to go." I was completely taken aback. "He DID?" "Yep." Megan explained that her Dad and her brother were very busy at the office - something about a Y2K bug, she said. I already knew about that. Everyone was totally freaked about the upcoming New Year, and for many reasons. Some people were convinced it would be the end of the world, and others thought everything, like all the technology we'd come to depend on, would come to a crashing halt and things would revert to stone-age-like conditions. That conjured up visions of power failures, planes falling from the skies, and panic in the streets. Of course, as we know now, none of that happened. But a huge amount of effort and expense went into trying to prevent computers from crashing at midnight on January 1st. And Mark and his Dad were right in the thick of it, scrambling to find out if any of their software had the bug (their business being all about computers and high tech), and sending their big customers endless paperwork to satisfy their 'due diligence' requests. Anyway, we met up at the theater for a matinee showing on a Sunday, and as we were standing in line for popcorn and drinks we chatted about stuff like her dancing and my singing. Megan seemed to be eyeing me strangely. "Sandy, you seem kinda different now ... like, something's changed." "Really? I think I'm the same person. Just a bit older maybe ..." "No, it's not that. I dunno ... it's like you're more girly now. You LOOK prettier too." "Well, thank you, but so do you, Megan," was all I could think to say. 'Wow,' I thought, 'this girl's SO perceptive. Nothing gets past her.' Even I had noticed how much more naturally feminine I'd allowed my voice and mannerisms to become since the operation - not so forced as they were before. We took our purchases into the theater and kept up our banter until the lights dimmed, and it resumed as soon as the show ended. I'd almost forgotten how much I liked this girl - I mean, hers was exactly the life I'd have wanted if I'd been born into the right body in the first place. She had no idea how fortunate she was, I mused. As pre-arranged, the two of us caught a city bus back to her house. On the way I got up the courage to ask how the wedding was, and how the newlyweds were doing. Megan became a little less animated, possibly because she knew it was a painful subject for me, and said the wedding wasn't too bad, and they were doing fine. That didn't sound to me like a rousing endorsement, and I wisely changed the subject. The front door opened as we came up the walk, and Mrs. McCowan greeted me with a big smile and a hug, and she invited me to take my coat off and come in for a soda or a cup of herbal tea. I declined as nicely as I could, not wanting to rekindle my old feelings for the McCowan family any more than had already happened that day. "Are you sure?" she prodded, and I shook my head. She smiled, "Well it would be wonderful to catch up with you and your mother sometime, Sandra. Oh, and I love your hair - I'm so glad you're growing it out again. Long hair suits you so well." "Don't you think she looks prettier now, Mom?" Megan prompted her. "I told her I thought she was more girly now." Mrs. McCowan smiled at her daughter, then at me. "I thought so too, Megan." I'm pretty sure I blushed noticeably. "Well, thank you for the nice compliments," I said sincerely. "But I'd best be going - I have some things I need to get done at home today." That was a white lie, but I really was starting to feel the pain of loss again. So I gave them both a big hug, wished them a merry Christmas, and made my exit before my eyes started to fill with tears. I just stared out the fogged-up windows of the bus all the way home. Oh, why had I let my hopes get so carried away! But it was hard to imagine how I'd ever again find such a perfect guy as Mark to marry and such a perfect family as the McCowans to marry into. To be continued ....