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The Terms of Life Janet L. Stickney [email protected] For the first time in my life I was able to get changed without feeling the fear crawling down my spine. As I stepped into the heels and adjusted my dress, I glanced in the mirror one last time before I took my purse in hand and walked out the front door. The summer breeze wafted around my legs, lifting my dress a bit, but I ignored it and calmly walked to my car, got in, and drove across town to a small caf? I had selected for my first foray out as a girl. Walking inside I found a table near the wall, ordered a coffee, then sat back to simply enjoy my freedom. I had spent hours in my bedroom dressing as a girl, never managing to admit, even to myself, just how much I wanted to be a girl, let alone find the nerve to go out. I sat there for about an hour, the solitude of being alone forgotten, only the joy of being undiscovered foremost in my mind. Sauntering out of the caf?, I walked down the street window shopping, well aware that with every step I was taking myself further away from the car and it's inherent safety, yet, each time I saw my reflection in a window I smiled, my conquest of the nagging fears that had gripped me for so long almost forgotten. After a two block walk I crossed the street, walking back on the other side, continuing to window shop until I was safely in the car, headed back to my apartment. As I flicked on the stereo, sitting my purse on the couch, the doorbell rang. Unable to change clothes merely to answer the door, and with no peephole, I let it ring while I tried to decide what to do. With a sigh, still fearing the inevitable discovery, I none the less found the courage and opened the door. I wore a tan sheath dress with white heels and white jewelry, my hair done in a casual pageboy, and looked just fine, but the familiar fear grabbed me, almost making me stay silent and leave the door closed. As the door swung open I saw a neighbor standing there. "Oh! Hi! I'm Marcie. Is Peter here? His car is here, so..." Using my very best feminine voice... "I'm sorry Marcie, he isn't here right now, perhaps later?" "Well, I just stopped by to tell him that we're having a small get together at my place tonight. Maybe you would like to come as well?" "I'll tell him," I said, "but I can't make it, sorry." "Okay!" Marcie said with a wave of her hand, "see you later then?" When she was gone I closed the door with a resounding thud, hoping that Marcie had not recognized me. I grabbed a soft drink from the fridge, sipping on it for a bit to settle my nerves, then the doorbell sounded again. Figuring it was Marcie again, I steeled myself once again, went to the door and yanked it open. Only it wasn't Marcie standing there. It was my best friend Bill! I stood there in frozen limbo as I tried to muster the ability to speak. "Hello!" Bill said with that famous grin of his. "I'm Bill. I was looking for Pete; is he here?" "No, I'm sorry, he isn't," I said softly. "You must be his sister." Blunt as always, Bill went on, even though he knew that I did not have a sister..."You look better than Pete by a long shot, but the family resemblance is there. What's your name by the way?" "Diane," I said, hoping that Bill didn't try to come in. "Well, listen Diane, Marcie, a friend of ours, is having a little get together tonight. Maybe you would like to go? I can introduce you to everyone, Just in case you're ever here again." "I'm sorry," I said, "I can't, but I'll tell Peter that you were here." "It's too bad you can't make it Diane, I'd much rather be with you than Pete any day!" "Thank you, but I can't make it," I said, then screwed up big time. "Not tonight anyway." "There's hope then!" he said gleefully as he walked away. My first time out of the house as a girl, after years of practice, then not one, but two people that knew me well had come to the door and seen me dressed as a girl, and neither of them seemed to have tumbled to the fact that I was their friend in a dress! It should have elated me, but instead I wondered how I would ever be able to leave my apartment again without Marcie or someone else seeing me. Despondent, I flopped on the couch wondering how I could have been so stupid. Not seeing the facts as they were, I managed to convince myself that both Marcie and Bill knew who I was, but were merely being polite. I went in my room, and began to undress. After an hour or so I was myself again and regained some of my self esteem as my fear of being found out faded away. I knew that I would be at the party, since not going would only tell everyone that I was snubbing them, so I called Marcie and told her I would be there. The party was just starting when I walked in, and the first person I saw was Marcie. She told me she was sorry that my sister couldn't come, adding that when Bill called her to say he would be there, he mentioned that he thought that Diane was one nice looking girl. It was all I could do not to choke. Smiling I walked away, hoping to steer any and all conversations away from Diane and back onto safe topics, like the weather. Bill prodded me about my "sister," telling me that he would like it a lot if I could manage to talk her into going out with him. I said that I would consider it. As the party grew, Marcie managed to pull me aside, to an almost quiet corner. "You know," she said with a grin, "my kitchen faces the parking lot, and I was in there making treats for the party all afternoon, and you know what? I never did see your sister leave, and I never saw you arrive. In fact, your car was sitting there the whole time!" Taking me by the arm and moving closer..."You know what I think? I think that you're Diane!" "But you know me Marcie!" I said, "so you know that I..." "Looked just cute as hell this afternoon," she said while gripping my arm tighter, "better than a few girls I can name as a matter of fact," she said as she looked over at Bethany. Then, "When can I meet Diane again?" When I said nothing... "She can't stay cooped up in the apartment forever Pete." Releasing my arm, "Think about it...please?" I didn't answer her of course, but drifted away to rejoin the party. I was not my usual party self that night, and didn't even bother to dance. I sipped on soda all night instead. With simple observation, Marcie had cracked my veneer of placid assumptions. I had figured I could leave without anyone knowing. That was a mistake of course, yet I also knew that she would not simply drop her demand to meet Diane again, and while I didn't want that, I was at a loss to figure a way out of it. If she took it into her mind to tell anyone, I would be on the outside looking in for my entire time at college. I left early, offering my apologies to Marcie. With a wink, she told me she would be over about eleven to meet Diane. I only had two choices. Let Marcie meet me as Diane, or quit going out. One was dangerous and the other impossible, because I knew that I wouldn't just stop getting dressed, especially after my one time out. I knew that I would do it again, I had to. But if I let Marcie come over and meet me when I was Diane, she might laugh, tease me, tell someone, or worse, demand that I get involved with her group of friends as Diane. It was a no win situation, and as I walked across the parking lot I cursed the gods that made me feel like a girl on the inside, but gave me a male body. The next morning when I got up, I glanced in the closet and saw the clothes hanging there, my bra slumped over the back of the chair along with my pantyhose, my heels sitting by the wall. With a sigh I made coffee, knowing full well that I was about to get dressed and let Marcie meet my alter ego Diane. There simply wasn't any other way. After a quick shower and a close shave, I did my makeup, then started to get dressed. I wore a simple white skirt with a red pullover top and my red shoes. It took me about an hour to get dressed and quit fussing. The time was ten, and as I looked in the mirror, I decided that the best way was to confront Marcie at her place, so I grabbed my purse, opened the door, and walked across the parking lot. Her apartment was on the first floor, so I walked up to the door an knocked. "Yeah," a male voice said, "whaddya want?" "Is Marcie here?" I asked in my best voice. "Diane? Is that you?" Marcie showed up in a robe, shoving her guest aside. "Let me get some clothes on hon, I'll be right back!" Her guest left a few moments later, with Marcie appearing in jeans and a top, no shoes or makeup. "Damn Diane," she said with a smile, "I never look that good this early in the day!" I watched as she made coffee, and when we each held a cup, she sat back just looking at me. "There aren't many guys that could do what you do Diane, not and look the way you do anyway. My brother tried it one year for Halloween. He looked okay I guess, and we all knew he was a guy, but you! You take the cake honey! Just look at you! Nice hair, a wonderful smile, nice clothes, and a figure that suits you! Not many girls can do what you do, or have what you have!" "You're right about that, I have something that girls don't have," I said with a sly grin, then... you just can't tell anyone Marcie, or I'm dead around here!" "What! Are you kidding?" she said strongly, "Half the guys on this campus would be walking around stiff legged once they saw you! Tell? Why would I tell anyone that the newest, cutest chick around is a guy? Let them stew Diane. Besides, there's nothing that says that you have to date anyone, but if I were you, I wouldn't stay cooped up in the apartment all of the time, I would get out and have a little fun once in a while!" "Easy for you to say," I said with a frown, "you're a girl. Everyone knows you're a girl, so they won't dare bother you, but I'm..." "Also a girl," Marcie said forcefully, "just as much a girl as I am, and there isn't any way they can prove otherwise! Just be yourself and you'll be fine!" "Yeah, right!" I said ruefully. "Tell you what," she said, "let me get cleaned up a bit, then you and I will spend the day together. We can do a little shopping, have some lunch, whatever." Without waiting for an answer, she popped up and ran into her bedroom to change. She took about half an hour, returning dressed about the same as I was, then we left her place, taking her car when we left. I was taking a huge gamble with Marcie, but she seemed to be enthusiastic about seeing me as Diane as well as being very supportive, so I took it on faith that she would not try to embarrass me. Keeping my nerves in check I tried to relax enough to enjoy the day, only my second time out of my apartment. As thrilled as I was, I knew that one miscue would spell my downfall, so I was determined to be just as careful as I had been that first day out. Marcie asked me questions about how I managed to do this or that, but I simply told her that she had no need to know, and she quickly dropped it, but not before asking me if I had ever had my hair done. When I said no, she gave me the "look", telling me that with the summer break rapidly approaching, I should consider it. According to her, there wasn't any way she was going to let me rot away in my apartment, and having my hair done would make it easier for me to get out every day. Not only had she hit my one big snag, she had also offered a good reason for me to actually enter a salon and have my hair done. We stopped at her salon and made the appointment, which would be just two weeks away. Marcie and I had a wonderful time that day, and as my fears about her washed away, she began to tell me things about the various guys we knew, things that I didn't know, adding that girls always know more about guys than other guys do. When I kidded her about her guest answering the door that morning, she huffed and told me that he was her brother Greg. So much for that I guess! By the time we got back to my place, I felt more at ease with myself than any time in the past. Marcie went home while I went inside. There were three messages, all from Bill, and all of them wanting to know more about Diane! I grinned and went to change into a pair of shorts. I did not dress up again until the following weekend when I went out without Marcie. I wore shorts and a plain top with my gym shoes and went to the zoo. The next day I stayed home trying to find a better way to hide my male parts, ending up with a small rash instead of success. The following Friday after school, knowing I was free for the next few months, I changed clothes. My growing confidence about my ability to become a girl, go out, and not be discovered had catapulted me into a sense of invincibility which left me vowing to remain Diane for at least two whole weeks, no matter what. I had stocked up on razorblades, hair removal cream, lotions and so on, all in anticipation for my great leap into the outer world, and looked forward to every minute of it. Marcie had shown me that I not only could become a girl and get by with it, but also that nobody really cared how I looked as long as I seemed to be what I looked like. That meant how I walked, talked, and acted. Determination took over as I climbed into the tub filled with bubblebath. I spent all evening removing every trace of hair that I shouldn't have, nicking myself only once. The lotion I used gave my skin a silky smooth feeling while leaving me with the scent of lilacs surrounding floating around me. My hair was squeaky clean, but rather than dry it, I simply let it air dry, slipping on a robe and sitting at the kitchen table so I could do my nails. I always liked doing my nails, and I was quite good at it. I filed each nail to fit, carefully placing each one on my finger tips, holding it in place while the super nail glue took hold. In the past I had not used nail glue, but this was going to be different. Trimming each nail, filing them to the final shape and painting each one with two coats of plum rose polish, then a clear went over that, leaving my nails shiny and bright. I was waving my hands to help them dry as I watched the television. I never touched my nails for at least an hour, just to make sure that the polish would remain shiny and undamaged, so I suffered through one of those ridiculous shows that have seven guys and a girl on an island or some such thing. The next morning I did my makeup, then got dressed, wearing a short skirt with a simple blouse, pantyhose and flats, brushed my hair out, and used a hair band to hold it away from my face. My appointment at the salon was that day, just before noon, so I made breakfast, cleaned up a little, then drove over to the salon. My hair is thick and wavy, so the girl layered it, then began cutting it. An hour later, after some changes were made, I looked in the mirror to see an entirely new person. I had auburn hair not brown, shorter, with curls that seemed to naturally frame my face. The perm was worth every penny I paid for it, and with a new sense of myself, I drove home, happier than I had ever been. Until I went to park in my spot that is. Another car was there, and the car was my mothers! There was no way I could simply disappear, and my mother was the type that would wait for a long time, and when I did not show up, she would call the cops! I pulled into a spare slot and sat there, dreading what I knew what I was going to have to do. If mom was alone, maybe I would have a chance. If dad was with her, well, it wouldn't matter because I would be dead anyway. Stepping out of the car, I saw Marcie waving at me. I waved back, then went to my front door and turned the knob. I stepped inside, but didn't see mom. I put my purse down and started for the kitchen when mom stepped out of the bathroom. Her eyes went wide when she saw me, but she quickly managed to regain her composure before she spoke. "I thought that I would drive up so we could spend a few days together," she said quickly, "your father is going to be gone for most of the summer," she said as I slowly walked to the kitchen. I took a drink out of the fridge, offered her one, which she accepted, then we sat at the table. "You look...very nice dear, beautiful in fact." Looking closer..."that's a perm, isn't it?!" Before I could answer her..."And those nails look like they were done by a professional!" "Mom I..." My mother is not a stupid woman, she has a Phd in education, and certainly knows about boys like me, but I can guess that in her mind, the boys that dressed like girls, were "over there," somewhere, not in her own house! Mom, while not a health nut, does stay in shape by walking or running every day, is impeccably dressed at all times, and in my mind, sets the standard for what a successful woman should be. Mom, not dad, was my idol, in every way. I just could not bring myself to say it. What seemed like a calm demeanor when she saw me was only the covering over what I just knew was a boiling cauldron of questions, about me, herself, and my dad. "Would you care to tell me just what's going on here?" she said ruefully. "I always knew that you liked to dress up once in a while, but I never expected you to..." Sitting down, mom just stared at me. "All those years and I just never understood why you...but then, I never asked you did I?" I shook my head no. "As far as I know you never left the house when you were at home. I guess you finally got the courage to dress as a girl and go out," mom said with a soft tone in her voice. I said nothing since there was no denying how I was dressed. "Are you living as a girl now?" she asked sadly. "No, I just..." "This is the first day?" mom asked me with a smile. Shaking my head no, I fidgeted in my chair as I sat across from mom. Mom listened while I talked, I told her my name, all about Marcie and the fact that she knew about me, how Bill wanted to ask me out, and added somewhat proudly that I had done my own nails. Mom seemed to settle down after we talked, but the way she looked at me gave me a severe case of the worries. "This," mom said suddenly, "is not what I raised you to...I mean, I raised a son! Why are you throwing all that away? Do you have any idea just how hard this is going to be? On all of us?" Mom's voice was growing louder, more strident. "Honey," she said as she took my hand, "this is going to just kill your father, you know that don't you?" I hung my head, unable to answer any of her questions. "I suppose," she went on, "that you want me to help you?" "Mom I...no. I didn't expect you to help me, but..." "You were thinking that we would just accept this without comment?" What could I say? "Let me ask you this then," mom said quickly, as she used her hand to raise my chin so I was looking at her, "if I told you to go change and never do this again, would you?" Using every bit of courage I had, while holding back a sob..."No," I said, "I just can't, not now!" "And why not?" "Because I...you wouldn't understand!" I said a little loudly as I stood up, tearing my hand from hers. "For the first time I... I can...I always wanted to be a..." "Don't yell at me young man!" Mom said angrily, "I am still your mother, and you will NOT talk to me in that tone of voice!" Mom visibly took a deep breath and visibly calmed down. "Now then, sit down." I sat of course. "So," she said, "no matter what we do, you'll still dress and live as a girl?" "I guess," I said softly. "I see. So being a girl is more important to you than we are?" "No, of course not mom, it's just that, I thought I could...try it." "Starting with a perm and acrylic nails?" Mom sounded dismayed. "I'm not very good at hair yet," I said, "and a perm makes it easier for me." "Just when did you plan on telling us all this?" I shrugged my shoulders. "If I agree to help you, then what? You do understand just how hard this will be? On all of us? Especially your father?" "I guess" "Since you did this knowing all that, and you just told me that you won't, or can't stop, can I assume that no matter what we do you'll continue?" "Mom I...you don't know how I feel! It's like I've been...set free!" "Free?!" she said incredulously, "Free? As a woman? Your kidding, right?" I shook my head. "Women aren't free! Women get the worst jobs, earn less money, get talked down to or treated as sex objects, and if your not pretty, maybe even less than that!" "I didn't mean it like that mom!" With a sigh, mom demanded to see what kind of clothing I was buying, so of course I showed her everything I owned. Everything met her approval, which I knew it would. At mom's suggestion, we decided to have some lunch out, but just then the doorbell rang. Opening the door I saw Bill standing there grinning. "I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I would stop by." He saw mom standing next to me, and without even thinking, I introduced them. It was a pro forma act that had been drummed into me since I started learning manners, only there was one small thing was wrong with it. He now thought that I was actually a girl, and with my mother standing right there, he had every reason to assume he was correct! "We were just going out for some lunch," mom said suddenly, "perhaps you would care to join us?" "I'd like that a lot Ma'am! Diane is a hard girl to meet!" "Just remember young man, that Diane is a little shy, and her father and I don't like pushy boys trying to get her to do things we do not approve of! Maybe that's why she has been a little shy around you." "I hope not Ma'am, I wasn't raised to push myself on women." "That's nice," mom said with a sly smile, "maybe I can meet your mother some day." "I'll look forward to it Ma'am." Verbal games are what mom does best, and Bill was rapidly about to be skewered, so I stepped in by taking his arm as he held the door for mom. Bill drove, taking us to that same small caf? I went to on my first outing. He was pleasant and very polite to both mom and I, a side of him I had never seen before. Mom never let on that I wasn't a girl, not even hint, for which I was very grateful, since she could have easily trashed me with one statement. Usually Bill was a slob, at least around guys, but I could tell that mom liked him, and while I had no intention of getting involved with him or any other guy, he was making me smile. After lunch he took us home, promising to call later. "Your young man is very nice Diane." "He is not," I told her forcefully, "my young man!" I'm not interested in guys mother!" "Maybe." Mom said. "You said that dressing as a girl made you feel free, but having boys interested in you, and it's obvious that at least one boy is interested in you, is that going to make you free? Tell me, what did you think was going to happen once you decided to live as a girl? That nobody would notice you?" Sitting down, mom continued. "Honey, Bill noticed you! I'm positive that you don't realize it, but you are a very pretty young lady! You cannot escape having boys looking at you, probably asking you out, and then what? They'll think that you're a girl and you're not! They'll want more than you can deliver. What then? A series of broken romances? And it's not like I want you to date boys, you're my son after all, but just go take a good look in the mirror and tell me I'm wrong!" Mom looked me right in the eye, and for the first time, she mentioned it. "If you become cozy with a boy, how long will it be before you give in and try to please him the only way you can? Is that it? Are you Gay? Is this the only way you feel comfortable being Gay?" "No mother," I said, "I am not Gay! I've never been attracted to guys that way! I just...all I want is to be a girl!" "You are aware that boys and girls do have sex?" Mom asked me sarcastically. "Yes, but..." "You cannot be so na?ve can you? That boy we had lunch with? He likes you, probably more than you realize, so just how many times will it be before he decides that you and he should have sex?" Mom looked...distant for a moment. "You say that you are not attracted to men, and while I'm sure that you believe that, your capacity to enjoy life as a woman is going to be severely tested if you hold on to that notion honey. Eventually, the power of your passion will corrupt your best intentions, and that dilemma is going to cause you to reevaluate your status, and it will be at that moment when you will have to decide if you are a man, or a woman. Your natural limitations aside, you say that you are a woman, yet you deny the most obvious thing about being a woman! There is no doubt in my mind Diane, you will succumb to the forces of nature, and there will be a man in your life, and you'll treat him just like any other woman treats her man!" Mom paused, then smiled at me. "Honey, if you meet a man, and he loves you, the most important thing for you to do is be the very best of friends! Remember, sex lasts just a few minutes, a solid friendship in a marriage can make that marriage last many years!" "I didn't think..." "That's right," mom said, "you didn't think!" Mom sat back in her chair staring at me, then, "Honey, sex is only a very small part of what marriage and being a woman is all about, and while you might think it's dirty to even think about it, it's not. It's normal! If you find a man that you love, and he loves you back, you'll find a way, all women do. Don't think it's wrong, it's not, if you love him that is." Drawing in a deep breath, "For a man, a woman is his lover, his friend, a confidant, and sometimes even his mother, but always, a friend first. When you meet that man, you'll know it, we all do, then it will be up to you to be the woman you say you are." I had nothing to say. Mom had quickly, and very neatly, dissected every one of my internal arguments! Of course I had those fleeting thoughts about being with a guy, as a woman, but just could not bring myself to admit that I might do those things! Knowing is one thing, doing another, and I had dismissed the doing part without the slightest idea what that meant! Now mom was telling me that sooner or later, I would do those things because, as a woman, it would be the right thing to do! Then mom broke into my thoughts and told me what I was going to have to do. "You'll have to tell your father of course, he has the right to know that he now has a daughter and not a son." "Yeah," I said, "and I'll spend the next twenty years flipping burgers just to finish school! No thanks mom!" "You told me that you wouldn't stop this didn't you? No matter what? You cannot have it both ways honey, and besides, I didn't ask you, I told you that you have to do it." "Just how do I tell Mr. Macho that I want to be a girl? Tell me that mother!" "It's not going to be easy," she said. "Maybe you should just pack a few things and come home. I'll try and make sure that he'll be ready for the news." I knew all along that dad would find out sooner or later, with later being better. "That's a perm, and those are acrylic nails, and that alone means that you planned on remaining a girl for quite a while, all summer perhaps?" I nodded my head yes. "Then there is no reason for you to keep this from your father, is there?" I looked at mom trying to find a crack, any crack, in her logic, but found none. "How about next weekend? Your father will be home and...no! In fact, why don't you stay here? We'll drive up here instead of you coming home!" I hesitated when she told me that, then..."Diane," mom said, "you cannot possibly believe that I didn't know about your dressing up at home can you? Or the hours you spent playing with makeup? Now really honey, I always knew! I can't tell you the number of times I would find some item of makeup you left out, or the times your room smelled like perfume or makeup! Or how about that box you had on the shelf in your closet? The one that had all those clothes in it? You did know that we knew didn't you?" I sank deeper into the chair, realizing that my carefully crafted facade had been nothing but shambles. "I mentioned it to your father, but I'm sure that he passed it off as a childhood thing. Now I think it's time that he found out the truth, don't you? Mom and I sat there for a while, during which time she confirmed my greatest fears. I always knew, because she had caught me a few times, that she knew about my dressing up, yet not once did she seem to be even the slightest bit concerned. Now she said she was surprised that I had decided to live as a girl for the summer! In my mind, one led to the other. Was I wrong? The strained comfort I gained from learning that my parents knew all along was tempered by the knowledge that I would have to not only tell my dad face to face, he was going to see what I had become. Mom started asking me how I did things, and with my mind in a tumultuous turmoil of conflicting emotions, I told her how I managed to create the figure I did have. After talking to mom, I had every expectation that my parents would stop just short of skinning me alive, yet make it clear that I was not to dress as a girl ever again. While mom made it abundantly clear that she was not at all thrilled with the idea that I wanted to be a girl, she had clearly ceded to the obvious. Her reactions, from the moment she first saw me to right then had been denial that led slowly to grudging acceptance. Yet, as we sat there, and with each word she spoke, I heard nothing but determination and praise. Telling me that I looked beautiful, asking how I did certain things, and demanding that I face my father were only eased by knowing that both of my parents had known about Diane for years. "I planned on spending the weekend," mom said softly, "so why don't we get cleaned up a bit and go shopping? You have some very nice clothes, but not enough of everything. For example, that tan dress is very nice, but it does seem to be the only one you have that's at all close to being dressy. Why don't we see what we can do about that?" My mother? Helping me buy clothes? "Mom I...well, I never thought..." "You are 19 years old now, and quite able to decide for yourself how to lead your life," mom said quickly, "and all I am doing is helping you with that decision. Whether I like it or not, I have no choice but to accept what I can clearly see with my own two eyes! Do I like it? Not really, but I am willing to help you become a well dressed young lady because you need me to help you! Can't you see that?" Mom took me by the arm..."If you continue to insist that you are going to become our daughter, and I expect you to be the young lady everyone would expect your father and I to raise, then I don't have a choice, do I?! Now, lets both get cleaned up! My credit card seems to be pulsing in anticipation of being used!" Both mom and I touched up our lipstick, then with me driving, we left for the mall. It was plain that mom did not want me to dress as a girl, she mentioned it several times, then again, she told me that since I was doing it anyway, she insisted that I become the type of daughter she would have raised! Confused but happy that she was going to help me learn how to buy things, I let her lead the way. My collection of clothing was adequate for my once in a while outings, but she demanded that I do it right, and told me that started with proper lingerie. However, when she found out that my breasts were nothing more than seed filled nylons while my hips were simply folded up cotton cloth, she located some padded panties, stuffing several pairs into my hands before she sauntered over to the breast forms, adding a pair of them to our growing pile. Bras and panties, slips and nightgowns, a robe, then a corsolet. Mom told me that every girl should have at least one. Mine was white. Shoes were next, flats mostly, but patent leather heels in red, white, and black. In dresses she and I made a serious dent in her credit line as mom began by picking out several dresses that we both liked, skirts and blouses, even a suit! Slacks, and skinny jeans, some shorts and even a romper suit were added, then, weighted down by it all, we left for my apartment. I thought mom and I actually had a fun day together, sharing things that I never thought I would tell her, like the time I went to school wearing panties and pantyhose. Mom was more ebullient, asking me about every selection the whole time we were out shopping, showing me why certain clothes were made a certain way, how to buy for comfort rather than sex appeal, insisting that no "real lady," would be caught dead in any of that "crap", unless it was on her wedding night. That night, after we had settled in, she read the instructions for the breast forms while I sat watching television. My day started well, turned into a nightmare, then drifted to what turned out to be a fun afternoon. Mom never once commented on the way I was dressed while we were out, insisting before we got to the mall that I would have to be the girl I told her I was, or quit. Nothing in the middle was acceptable. I couldn't quit, so she went ahead with a determination I had only seen a few times before. She let me pick out my clothes, but if she were in doubt, I had to try them on and get her blessing before we bought them. From lingerie to makeup mom guided me through it, all the while telling me what was proper and what wasn't. Like I was her daughter. It seemed as if she were on a mission to create the daughter she never had, and I was going to do it right according to her, or I wasn't going to be a daughter. In her mind it was simple. The next morning I was up first, made coffee and started breakfast. After we ate I went to get dressed but mom stopped me, telling me that I might as well discover the joys of fighting with breasts that couldn't be stuck in a drawer, and proceeded to attach the breast forms to my chest using the adhesive that came with them. Heavier than I imagined, they pulled at my chest muscles as I walked to the bath to take a shower. Later I wore a pair of the new shorts and a pullover tee with my gym shoes and the least amount of makeup I could manage to get by with, and no lipstick. The padded panty gave me a roundness that looked normal for a girl my age while also helping to hide my appendage and giving me a natural looking Y in the front. Mom also wore shorts and a top. She liked to walk, and she told me I could use the exercise, so we set off down the street towards the park, about two miles away. On the way... "You should bend your arms at the elbows Diane, and hold them out like this." Looking at mom I saw what she meant. "You need to be looser, more flexible in the way you move your hands, and take shorter steps." She paused. "You seem to do everything almost right, and while not many would notice, you should work on those as well as learning how to sit properly. Sweep your skirt out before you sit down, and always cross your ankles. That's how many women sit, and nobody will question it." When we reached the park we took a short break, sitting on a bench in the shade. "How do they feel?" she asked, referring to my breasts. "Okay I guess, I'm just not used to having things bouncing on my chest though, it feels odd, but nice." "That's why," mom said with a smile, "women wear sports bras. They hold the bounce to a minimum." "Now you tell me!" I said grinning. "You're a lovely girl Diane," mom said, "and my only goal now is to help you be the woman you tell me you want to be. I would much rather help you become a woman than become a frustrated man in a dress that never realized a dream. That would be very sad, for all of us." Mom squeezed my hand, dragged me to my feet, and we started back, going the other way around the park. Kids filled the swings and slides, their laughter filling the air while young mothers chased those few that were determined to test their skills at eluding a parent. Young boys hit baseballs, others played tennis while yet another group simply sat watching people. It was a pleasant sight, yet seeing those young mothers with their children made me feel like I wanted to be one of them. Only I knew that was just a dream. I would never be a mother, so I swallowed those thoughts and kept running. Mom set the pace, and at 45, she was still quite able to set a fierce pace. Her long dark hair trailed out behind her while her bright blue eyes stayed fixed on the pathway, oblivious to the fact that every guy we passed was staring at her trim figure. I never once considered they were staring at me since the very idea of that made me want to laugh. Mom took her shower first, then later, when we were clean again, we went out to lunch. Marcie was out, so I invited her to come along. Mom and Marcie hit it off right away, and the three of us had a very nice lunch. But... "Bill called me again," Marcie said casually, "he wanted your number, but I told him I couldn't do that. I think he's in love Diane! It either that or he's just plain horny and wants to get into your pants!" "Not likely," I said, "because that will always be unexplored territory when it comes to guys!" "Don't be so quick to say that Diane," my mom said, "I believe that I told you that men have a way of getting to us, then we find ourselves going further than we wanted to." "Yeah," I said, "but that won't happen with me, I'm not interested in guys, remember?" "And just how many girls," Marcie said with a smirk, "do you think you can date looking the way you do?" "She's right," mom added, "boys will be attracted to you, like Bill for example, and I'm wondering how long it will be before you give in rather than stay at home while everyone else is going out and having fun." There was nothing I could say to dissuade them from insisting that I would soon be dating, yet, and regardless of what mom told me the day before, I still held firm in my belief that I had no interest in guys, right up to the point when I saw a young mother pushing her stroller into the room. I had always thought about being a mother, which did not add up if I kept saying that I didn't plan on dating, and that made me feel ridiculous when I thought about it. No guy, no sex, ergo, no baby. But, and since I wasn't a woman, there wasn't going to be a baby anyway, so I mentally shoved aside all thoughts about guys, babies and motherhood. Marcie said that her folks were coming that night, and wondered if mom and I would like to join them for dinner. Mom accepted before I had a chance to say a word. Mom wore her suit, a navy jacket with a red skirt and a white blouse. I wore the tan sheath dress. Marcie rang the bell, and we were soon on our way to dinner. Her mother was short and heavy with a jolly face and a happy demeanor, while her dad was tall and husky with white hair and a small mustache. Greg wore a simple gray suit, and looked much better than the last time I had seen him. Dinner was very nice, and I found out that Greg was in the Navy, home on leave before he shipped out. Marcie and I sat together, and during dinner, for the first time, I had to use the rest room. Never having been in a ladies room, I yanked her hand and we went together. Fortunately it was empty and my first trip became nothing but uneventful relief. Returning home about eleven, mom and I both went to bed after a long day. She left for home the next morning, reminding me that both she and dad would be back on Saturday morning, firmly adding that she expected me to look just as spectacular as she knew I could. She also reminded me that I would have to tell dad the truth, since anything less would only make him distrust me. Once mom was gone I cleaned up, changed the sheets and did the laundry. As I put things in the washer I realized there was nothing but bras and panties mixed in with my girl clothes. There were no male clothes at all! I was finished about three, and was sipping on a soda when Bill appeared at my front door, insisting that he would not take "no," for an answer, pleading with me to join him for some pizza and a beer. Thinking about what mom and Marcie told me, I gave in and quickly repaired my makeup before we left. Bill was once again polite, but asked me for my number, telling me that calling would be a lot easier than his hanging around my door all of the time, and I finally relented, and wrote it on a napkin. One look at the number and I saw his face turned ashen. I was afraid it would happen, and steeled myself for the onslaught that I was sure was coming. "This is your number?" "Yes," I said meekly, "why?" "You know," he said casually, "I haven't seen Pete, not even once since you moved into his place. It makes one wonder." He was onto it, so I fed him the line just so I could come clean and get it over with. "Wonder what?" I asked. "If you and Pete are the same person," he said as he calmly poured me another beer. I said nothing of course, sipping on my beer to hide my shock. "In fact, I told you that I thought you looked a lot like Pete." Sitting the jug on the table, he looked at me with those deep brown eyes and a smile. "You and Pete are the same person, right?" With a sigh, I nodded my head yes, unable to say the words. "If your mother was with you, then she must think this is the right thing for you, right?" "Not really," I said, "mom hates it as a matter of fact, but she's trying to accept it. She told me that if I wanted to be a girl, then I had to do it right, so she's helping me, but she doesn't like it." "Well," he said with a grin, "I like it!" "You do?! Why?" "Because I now have a best friend that happens to be a cute girl!" "So?" I said stupidly. "So? Don't you get it Diane? I liked you as a person long before this, so what you wear doesn't enter into it! The fact that you are cute as hell is just a bonus that I intend to make the most of!" "Huh?" Once again I got stupid. "Diane, who better to be your date around town than someone that knows you for the person you are? Besides, you wouldn't want some guy you didn't know asking you out would you?" Bill had yet to touch me in any way other than casually, so I relaxed and simply listened to him. What he said made sense, and since he also knew that I wasn't really a girl, maybe he wouldn't try anything! Why he wanted to be with a guy dressing as a girl I didn't understand, but he seemed so...eager, and I knew him to be a man of his word, so I agreed with a nod of my head. He bought another round in celebration, and while we waited for it, I told him that our agreement might not last long, since my father was coming up the next weekend, to meet me as a girl for the first time. Bill sat there for a moment without speaking, then began to laugh. When I asked him why, all he said was that I had to learn how to manipulate men, and my father was a perfect target for that. He went on to detail how his sisters managed to twist his father around their little fingers with ease, telling me that if a little girl could do it, then I could too! He took me home and I went inside without so much as a handshake, yet I felt strangely excited. While I had not envisioned myself with a boyfriend, Bill was both a boy and a friend. His suggestion that he be my escort to thwart other guys from hitting on me seemed like a ploy, yet having the constant security of his company would relieve a lot of tension when I went out. I knew, after talking with mom, that I wouldn't have any trouble passing as a girl, and only my inner fear would keep me restrained. As I slipped out of my clothes and looked in the mirror, I saw half of the girl I wanted to become. There are a lot of flat chested girls, but not many that are like me, and that means they are not girls at all. Like me, they are only pretenders. I turned on the television and watched the news before bed. As I drifted off to sleep, the unbidden vision I had was one of Bill, his eyes shiny and bright, his smile, then my capitulation as he drew me close to him. I still maintained that I didn't like guys, but my wall of denial seemed to be getting weaker and there didn't seem to be anything I could do about it; my own femininity was taking over my life, and I couldn't stop it. I knew what mom meant when she said that I might find myself doing something for a guy "the only way I could", and while I could envision it, I could not bring myself to accept the fact that I might. After breakfast the next day I found a check in my purse along with a note from mom telling me to use the money to spruce up my place, making it "more feminine," as she put it. Looking around, I had no artwork, no frills at all, only the barren walls that I moved in with. I called Marcie, and we were soon on our way to some shops where I could find things to decorate my apartment. We spent almost all of the money, and with what was left I bought new sheets that had flowers on them. When we got back to my place we set about creating a very feminine atmosphere. Silk flowers under huge copies of Monet, little vases and silly little cat statues, potpourri in slotted dishes, tasteful pillows and a small stand to hold more silk flowers made my place seem somehow complete, and a lot less masculine. We changed the sheets then I made us a small dinner. By the time Friday arrived every square inch had been vacuumed, dusted, washed, cleaned or wiped down. I set a small vase of flowers on my kitchen table, then went to the bath to prepare for the next day, the biggest, and possibly the worst, or best, day of my life. In the morning I spent a long time getting ready, selecting my dress very carefully, then did my makeup and hair. My nails were done the night before, as was my hair removal regimen. I slipped on the thong panties, pulling them tight to my waist to help hide my appendage, then came the high cut panties with the lace trim. My bra was white with lace trim, the half cups fastening in the front, with the breast forms, the padding created a modest but exciting cleavage. The padded panty was next, followed by the waist nipper, the pantyhose, and finally I slipped the dress over my head and pulled the zipper closed. Mint green, the dress had a low square neckline with a pair of straps over my shoulders, a fitted bodice over a modestly flaring skirt that ended just above my knees. I wore the white patent leather heels with white jewelry, my best perfume and soft red lipstick. My hair, which I had learned to manage better, was held away from my face with a pair of small white barrettes. I looked in the mirror one last time, and saw that I had finally managed to look like the girl I wanted to be. Prepared for the worst, but no longer willing to hide in my bedroom, I had no choice but to confront my father with the girl of my dreams...me. I heard their car drive up, waiting patiently for the bell to ring. When it did, I took a deep breath, then held it for a moment before I opened the door wide. There was no turning back, and as I admitted first my mother, then my father who was right behind her, I felt his eyes boring in on me. Mom smiled when she looked around, seeing what I had done to redecorate, yet she firmly held my fathers hand as he and I traded looks. I was more on edge than the first time I went out, and while dad merely looked at me and did not speak, I could feel his tremendous dismay invading my psyche, all the way to the core. Based on how I was dressed, I was refuting everything he thought a man should be. In other words, everything he taught me. Mom motioned for us to sit, but I just could not, and remained standing while they sat on the couch. "Honey," mom said to dad, "this is Diane." He said nothing, only his dark piercing eyes told the story. His dismay was clearly more evident than before. "Diane and I spent a lot of time together last weekend, and I see no reason we cannot come to some kind of...agreement." "You don't look like what I expected," dad said, "most guys that wear dresses look like...guys in dresses, but..." "She is," mom interrupted him, "as you can see, a very pretty girl." "I see that," he said a little sadly. "but I did not raise you to be a woman damn it! Is this what you really want? To be second all your life? To have people think..." "I don't think being a woman means that your second dad." I said quickly. "I agree with that," mom added vehemently. He said nothing, so I took their bags into the spare room, leaving them sitting there alone. Returning..."I made a small lunch," I said calmly, "just let me set it out," I said as I turned towards the kitchen. The look on my dad's face was one of total disbelief and denial, so I quickly went in the kitchen to hide myself from his gaze and the immense shame I felt tugging at me. My heels clicked on the harder kitchen floor as I started to put things out, then mom came in to help, quietly handing me two soft drinks from the fridge while nodding at dad. She never said a word, but I knew what she wanted me to do. She wanted me to talk to dad, alone. I swallowed hard, took the soft drinks, then gathered up my courage before I went in and asked dad to join me on the small patio out back. I have to say that I was surprised that he even agreed. He was following me, unavoidably in my wake of sweet perfume, which was surrounding him as we went outside and sat in the two chairs. His eyes once again locked on my face, drifting to my breasts before his lips became a grim slit formed by his angry mouth. His hands were clenched and tight, resting on the small table. That told me that the road was going to be more than bumpy. Finally... "You like being a girl, don't you?" he asked me sourly. Tense, I merely nodded my head yes. "Your mother told me about all this when she got home last weekend, but I didn't, or maybe, I refused, to believe her. I told her you were not like that...this." He sat back, his eyes still locked on my face. "We knew about your occasionally playing dress up at home, but we thought it was just a...I never thought...what I mean is, you look so...it's like you're an entirely different person!" He reached out, unfolding his hands as he gripped the soda. "I could make you stop this you know, all I have to do is shut off the money." Of course, he went for the jugular, but by then I knew the truth about myself and just could not hide it any longer, so I said..."It's not about money dad, it never has been. If you quit sending me money I'll just get a job, but I'll still be Diane, I just don't think I have the choice any more!" "Nonsense!" He said quickly, "You could go change clothes right now, and I would have my son back! The son I played baseball with, the son I taught to ride a bike, that little boy I helped with his math and taught to fish!" "Dad!" I stopped him before he ran himself ragged trying to find a way to discredit me. "Sure, I could change clothes, but this hair? It's a perm. These nails? They are acrylic and won't come off easily, and no matter what I wear, I'll always be Diane!" Dad reeled back from my quick tirade but said nothing. "Dad," I said in a calmer voice, "I'm the same person I always was! Sure, I look different and I wear different clothes, but nothing else has changed!" Softly, I added, "Dad, you can't possibly believe that one day I just decided to wear dresses do you? This isn't a choice I made, it's a demand my mind is telling me and I have no escape from! You can't know what I had to live with, knowing that I wanted to be a girl but couldn't! Yes, I'm a guy, but I'm a guy that wants to be a girl, and you have no idea how hard this is for me! Just being here like this, with you, is excruciating! I mean, sure, I always liked to dress up, but I never went anywhere! It was a once in a while thing that I thought I had under control, but I knew, the minute I went out for the first time, I knew I had been wrong all along! Now I face the possibility of being found out every time I step outside! I could face ridicule, beatings, or worse every time I go out as a girl, but I didn't realize that I didn't have a choice until I finally went to a small caf? nearby. That's when I knew in my heart that anything less wasn't going to be enough, and that's why I had my hair done. So I can be more like everyone else. By the way, I can still ride a bike and do my math dad, thanks to you. All that's changed is the shape of my clothes and my outlook on life." He sipped on his drink while I remained tense, unable to touch my soda. I had told him how I felt, and got no reaction at all. His stony demeanor clearly told me that two days with dad constantly provoking me would certainly test my will power, yet I loved him, I always had, and I really didn't want to hurt him. My dad is everything most men strive for, tall, handsome, very successful, well spoken, and extremely bright, yet like everyone else he had blind spots. What he didn't see was that I am unlike him in so many ways. I am more like mom, shorter than the average guy at 5' 7," with her slender build. I did get dad's ability to speak well, but writing is what I like to do, and wearing a dress didn't have the slightest impact on my ability to write. If anything, it gave me an edge, a softer edge. Finally, he spoke. "Your mother tells me that you have a boyfriend." He said it with a sort of an ugly smirk on his face that made me cringe before my anger at his unsaid suggestion burst out. "Has he tried to get into your pants yet?" Before I could answer him..."There's only one way you could make a boy happy, and I'm not going to even think about that. The idea that you would take down some guys pants and su...do that is beyond me!" "Wrong dad!" I said to him loudly, almost shouting, "I happen to have a good friend that just happens to be a boy. His name is Bill, and he knows all about me. He was my friend before all this, and he's my friend now, but not like your suggesting, and I resent the fact that you would even consider that I would...I'm not...he wouldn't try to..." Dad held up his hand stopping what was turning into a tirade. "Let me be frank...Diane. Like your mother, I'm not very fond of the idea that my son, our only child, wants to be a woman. Although I will say that you look quite lovely, and isn't how I thought you would look, I don't understand why you feel you have to throw your life away!" He glanced out across the yard, then back at me. Whether you think so or not, sex is going to be part of your life, and as a girl, that means sex with a guy, if not now, then later! I'm not a prude, but I never thought that you were so foolish that you would believe otherwise!" "I don't feel," I said, "any attraction to guys dad! Maybe later, but not right now!" "Father Martin," dad said softly, "told me one time that you were not like all of the other little boys. I didn't understand him at the time, but now I think I do. He told me that he saw something in you that was gentle. There was some part of you, something that he could see and I never could. Just before he died I went to see him, and he said something to me that I thought was very strange at the time. He told me that fighting mother nature was a lost cause, then he told me that freedom of the soul was the only thing in life that mattered." Surprising me, dad reached out and took my hand in his, then..."I don't understand why you're doing this, certainly not why you would want to be a woman, but I have to know, and I want you to tell me, if doing this makes you feel somehow free! I want you to tell me to my face that this will give you that freedom of the soul Father Martin mentioned!" Freedom of the soul dad said, but that's not how I felt. "Not free dad," I said, "complete. I feel...complete, like this is the way I was always meant to be! As far as the freedom of my soul goes, I can't answer that, not yet anyway. Do I like all of the tension and fear? No, but for the first time in my life I feel relaxed and at ease within myself, and that's only been since I started living this way!" This was the nightmare that I feared the most. Facing my father, telling him that I wanted to be a girl, denying that I had ever thought of sex with another male. I had no idea that my occasional dressing would lead to what was happening to me, and I was usually scared to death most of the times I did dress up, but beyond my need to be dressed as a girl, and my knowledge that it was right for me, there was only one thing that mattered. My family. There was mom and dad plus me. That's it. If I lost them I would be alone, maybe forever, a thought that scared me a lot more than the idea of being discovered as a boy in a dress, even more than the idea that I could have sex with a guy. Looking into his eyes and squeezing his hand while my voice softened, I told him how I felt, something I had never done before. The words flowed out of my mouth easily, only my tear filled eyes caused me to quiver. "Dad, I need you, I always needed you. Maybe now more than ever before, and it's not the money you send me, it's...I want you to...love me back, no matter what I wear!" With the tears were forming in my eyes, I was confident that dad would turn his back on me, first denying me his love, then deny me altogether. I started to get up and walk away so I would not have to hear him say the words that I knew were coming, the words that would devastate my life as I knew it. But he stood up, he grabbed my arm hard, quickly yanked me around and held me there, his eyes locked on mine. He said nothing for a moment, but as a single tear began its trek down my face, he eased the pressure on my arm, then squeezed my hand. Looking up into his eyes, with tears in my eyes, my blurry water stained view of my father cleared when I saw a faint smile on his face! "Sit down," he said firmly, so I sat, his hand still on my arm. "Any suggestion that I don't love you is out of line and you know better than that!" He sounded angry. "Don't ever suggest that again, understand?" I said nothing, just nodded my head. "I just...this is so new to me. I've never had a daughter before. I'm not sure I'll know how to act!" "Like you always have?" I suggested with a whimper. Changing the subject quickly, he asked me..."How did you plan on attending school as a girl?" he asked, "All of your documents say that your name is Peter." "I was hoping that you could help me dad." Was this a small ray of sunshine I wondered? "Girls cost more than boys you know," he said, "what with all the frilly stuff they buy, plus the extra expense of makeup, haircuts, clothes, and other things girls need. Did you really expect me to pay for all that?" "I'm getting by on what I have now," I said glumly, "I'll manage." "Well, in my opinion," dad calmly said, "that's not going to be good enough." He sat back in his chair, his arms folded on his massive chest. "I'll tell you what," he said a bit smugly, "I'll raise your allowance a little, and I'll even see about the name thing, but there are some conditions." He had agreed! Smiling all of a sudden, I wondered what his conditions would be. "First, since you have the entire summer free, and both your mother and I agree on this by the way, we want you to attend a charm school. We think this will help you with your poise, mannerisms and so on. Second, your grade point cannot fall below 3.4 at any time, and thirdly, you have to come home more often! Say, once a month at least, at which time I expect to see a girl that is continuing to become the lady that your mother insists you can be. Any questions?" I almost leaped across that small table I was so happy! Standing there like that I was surprised when dad stood up, opened his arms, and I fell into his grasp bawling like a baby. I felt his hands caressing my hair as he held me tight against him. There was no sound, nothing to interfere, and with my head hard against his chest, I could hear his heart pounding, the soft throb pulsing against my ear. I had no thought other than the one that kept telling me that my dad, the one person I admired the most, needed the most, had overcome his dislike and accepted me just like I was. He didn't say it, but male or female, pants or skirts aside, he had managed to bridge the gap between dislike and love, then find a way to tell me. Softly, almost a whisper... "I don't like what you're doing, you know that don't you?" I nodded my head yes. "Your mother tells me that whatever is driving you this way, you really don't have a choice, which means neither do we. She said that even if you quit right now, you would simply wait until you graduated and start up again." He pushed me back but held my arms as he looked me right in the face. "A parent always loves their child, no matter what happens, so don't even consider that we don't love you. I...we, were just having some trouble accepting the fact that you want to become a girl." He let me go, then..."Do you remember my motto?" Since I had heard it from birth, how could I forget? "Conviction, honor, compassion and conscious," dad said softly, "If you have the conviction of your beliefs, which you know are true, then you honor those convictions with a clear conscious, and have compassion for yourself and others as you carry out those convictions." ( From my own father. JLS) He sat back in his seat and looked at me with a plain face. "If you are convinced that this is right for you," dad went on, "then you have no choice but to honor yourself by being true to yourself. If your conscious is clear, then you have to do what is right, but the compassion for yourself must come first or you'll become unable to cope with life or have compassion for others." Dad paused as we both considered what he had said. I had not looked at life like that, years of being driven only by a need that clouded all of the options on my horizon would not let me see beyond my immediate needs. "Tell me again," he asked, "is this really what you want?" I slowly nodded my head yes while he looked directly into my eyes. "This means that we won't have any grandchildren, someone to carry on the family line." Dad paused, the suddenly said, "I think it was Oscar Wilde that said the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it. You've done that Diane. You have become a lovely young girl, but now you have to prove to everyone that you are right, which means that we have to tell the rest of the family, since we just can't have you just pop up out of nowhere." "I know that dad." "Any suggestions?" he asked. "The fourth of July get together?" "Yes..." He said with a grin, "I'll let everyone know ahead of time. You can wear something...summery?" A stray thought hit me right out of the blue, so I mentioned it. "You do know that they can take eggs from a fertile woman and freeze them?" "Of course." Dad sounded questioning. "Why not take some of mom's eggs, freeze them, then, if I do get married someday, maybe the doctors could implant them? That way our family line would continue?" "I can talk to your mother." He said, then, "When can I meet this boy that's just a friend?" "I can call him," I said, "maybe later?" I hugged him back, then..."daddy?" "Yes honey?" "I love you." "And I love you too," he said, "just be the kind woman you know you can be and your mother insists you were meant to be." "She said that?" I asked. "She told me there wasn't any doubt in her mind honey, but like me, she doesn't understand why." "I don't understand it either dad. If I didn't have to do this, why would I risk everything to say that I did? I just don't feel like I have a choice." Mom came to get us, and together we had a small lunch, then dad took my car to fill it with gas. As mom and I did the few dishes, she asked me how it went with dad. "As if you didn't know," I said with a grin, "he told me that you both agreed that I had to attend some kind of charm school, which means that he was yanking me around before he seemingly gave in." "Your father didn't just give in honey. He hates what you're doing, a whole lot more than he lets on, but he is doing his very best to try and understand what's driving you. He thinks this is insane. He thinks that you are giving up all of the privileges and rights men have, to become what he thinks of as second." "I don't think of it like that mom!" "I know that dear, and I don't feel second best either, but from his point of view, women serve men! We bear the children, we keep the house, we type their letters...in other words, we serve the men. But you should know by now that under all that armor he wears, there is a pussycat in there Diane. He sounds gruff sometimes, but underneath all that, all he ever wanted is what's best for us, especially you, but I think you knew that already. If that means his son has to become his daughter, and that's the best thing for everyone, he'll agree, and for him, swallowing what he sees as a bitter pill is what he'll do, and it doesn't matter if he likes it. He'll do what he has to do because it's the right thing, but if you thought that he likes the idea of you as a girl, you would be very wrong. He gave in because it has obviously become the right thing to do." Mom took me by the hands, and facing me, said, "That means that you'll have to become the girl you say you are! You need to be the kind of woman he would expect his daughter to be, every time he sees you. If you want to convince him it's the right decision that is. Honey, if this was a part time thing he could maybe accept it easier, but none of us are so na?ve that we don't know where this will most likely lead, so lets not kid ourselves." Mom's face went soft, her eyes growing wider, then..."You have to let your father do things for you Diane, it's the only way he knows how to say that he loves you. He huffs and puffs a lot, but regardless of what you wear or how you look, his love for you, well, that will never change. Your father loves you with every bone in his body, and only wants you to be happy and successful in life. He just doesn't know how to say it very well, which is why he raised your allowance and gave you some conditions. That's about all he can do because he doesn't know what else to do. But make no mistake, he'll be watching you very carefully. You made this decision on your own Diane, now you have to prove not only to yourself, but to both of us, that you are right." "He said that our family line would stop if I become a girl mom. I think he's really angry about that. That's why I suggested a way that might not happen. He also wants me to come to the annual Fourth of July party so that everyone in the family can see me for themselves. I said that I would be there, but..." "I think that's a wonderful idea! Your Grandma will choke a little, but she'll get over it, and those two buffoons you have for cousins are certainly going to give you a hard time, but you knew that before you agreed to be there. I still think it's a wonderful idea Diane. Bring a pair of shorts, or maybe a swimsuit just in case. Maybe that will take the wind out of their sails when they see you in something that is very feminine." There was no conundrum for me. I found out that I wanted to be a girl more than anything, and my parents, while not exactly happy about it, were going to let me have the chance to do just that. Charm school would only help me, and as silly as it sounded when dad said it, wearing a skirt would not diffuse my grade point average, so I didn't feel as if I were in a closed room with no escape. My only real task would be to convince my dad that he made the right decision. We finished the dishes, then mom casually handed me a credit card with the name Diane on it! "I ordered it right after I got home. It has a limit of course, but we want you to use it to get what you need. More clothes perhaps, or maybe have your beard removed. Whatever you think best." Mom, calmly sitting at the small table, opened her purse, then gave me a list of things she thought I should get. There wasn't one thing on her list that I didn't have on mine. At my suggestion and with mom's approval, I called Bill, and asked him to come over, telling him that I needed him to meet some people. I did not say who. I was afraid he might take it wrong. Mom and I talked while we waited for one or both to arrive, either Bill or dad, but Marcie showed up instead. She joined us at the table just about the time dad returned, telling me that he filled my car and had it washed and the oil changed! About five minutes later Bill arrived. When I introduced him to dad it was like watching two bulls face off, a side that I had never seen in either my father or Bill before. Both were pleasant of course, but with a visual wariness that comes from one protecting the family while the newer, younger one looked like he wanted to make a claim. I didn't know that then, only later when Marcie explained it to me. In my mind, I stupidly thought everything was just peachy! With stunned confusion on my part, my dad turned into an investigator of sorts, peppering Bill with all sorts of questions until mom finally put an end to it, first telling dad that she wanted to go out that night, "someplace nice", and with the next breath, asked Bill and Marcie to join us. Marcie declined, saying that she had a date. I went to change clothes, leaving mom and dad alone. I heard the murmur of their voices, but didn't listen in, afraid of what I might hear. I wore the cute black cocktail dress that mom insisted I buy, with black heels and gold jewelry. With the neckline so low, I thought dad was going to choke when he saw me, but mom held him in check while slyly grinning at me. By wearing a dress that displayed at least some of my charms, I had made my point, and dad got it, right between the eyes. As it turned out, both dad and Bill got along just fine that night, and by the time my parents left for home late the next day, dad and I had come to an unspoken understanding. I going to do my very best to be the kind of daughter he would expect, and he was going to try and be the best father a girl could ask for. Bill did not fit into my calculations other than as a friend, but he continued to make me worry about my self imposed denial about men, especially when I saw the way he looked at me the night we went to dinner together. Dad was his usual polite self although the undercurrent of doubt running around the table never abated. Wary, dad still did his best to put us at ease, but I was the one worrying the most. Regardless of what dad said, by dismissing my entire life as a boy only to start a new one as a girl, I had cast doubt about not only myself, but my parents as well. Did they do something wrong? Did they miss something early on in my life? Was there some defect in my system? The list could go on and on, but the die was cast, and we were about to embark on a journey into the unknown realm of new family relationships, whether we wanted to or not, all because I wanted to be a girl. I started charm school a week later, learning a lot of things that gave me confidence in myself, an easing of my internal tensions and a much better outlook on life. My makeup got better, the way I dressed became more tasteful, I lost weight and my mannerisms became better, almost as good as those of girl's my age. About a month later, true to his word, I received a packet of new documents in the mail from dad. My name had been legally changed to Diane Elaine, Elaine being my paternal Grandmothers middle name. Along with the packet came a request for me to have some portrait pictures taken, which I did. Over that summer everything about me changed as I became more relaxed within myself, even dating Bill a few times. I even let him kiss me, but it was like kissing my dad, and we quickly dropped any hint of romance from our relationship. Our interests after that did not include anything other than being good friends and company for the other. I went to the Fourth of July party, wearing a short, thin, blue and white summer gingham checked dress that exposed just enough to make everyone believe that I had gone farther than I had. My buffoon cousins tried teasing me, right up until I kissed Tim, right on the mouth. Then they ran faster than ever just to get away from all of the laughter coming their way. My Grandma was distant at first, not able to understand why I wanted to become a girl, but slowly warmed up after I sat down with her, and tried to explain why I wanted to be a girl. I'm sure that she never really got it, but Grandma was extremely pleased that I had chosen her name to be my middle name, and in a generous moment, told me that she had a few bits of jewelry that I could have! We made a date for later that week when I told her I would take her to lunch. As the summer progressed into fall, and I started school again, I reflected on what my first outing as a girl had turned into. Marcie was my best girlfriend, Bill a very close friend but not a lover, and my mother was helping me in every way she could, but the biggest hurdle had been my father. During the six times I went home that summer to see him, his attitude around me slowly became that of a protective father rather than a startled angry man. He still did not like the fact that I was turning into a girl, but he grudgingly accepted it, which was more than I ever thought possible. It was also during one of my weekend homes that he told me to see someone and get started in a program, telling me that being all girl was better than being half a girl. It was a gigantic step for him, and to this day I'm not sure he knows how much it meant to me. I tried calling him daddy a few times, but neither of us were comfortable with that, so I quickly dropped it. During the next months I lost more weight, had my beard removed, and began to develop as a girl, both in body and soul, and every two weeks mom would come to my apartment to check my development, until she finally told me to get rid of all of the padding. Soon after I quit using the padding, I met someone, and unlike Bill, when I kissed Steven, every nerve ending set itself on fire, and we started dating. But the biggest thing in my life was not Steven, it was that together, mom, dad, and I became a family again, without the rancor or fear that had defined our lives from the moment first my mother, then my dad, found out about me. Life is good now, I have become complete a woman, a wife, my parents daughter, and my fathers little girl. I now have everything I ever wanted. Dad has come to accept me for the person I am rather than the son he expected me to be, yet once in a while I see a wistful look on his face. I had become a woman, passing on the chance to be the son he expected me to be, but that wistful look of his always passes quickly, because he knows that I have taken his motto to heart, and also, found what Father Martin called Freedom of the Soul. What could possibly be better? For my dad, gone in 2001