The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2203 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“Everything all right, Mummy?” asked Julie as I wiped my face and clothing on a towel.

I was still coughing and I suspected red eyed as a consequence. “You timed that to perfection, bitch.” I said at rather than to Stephanie who smirked.

“Moi?”

“What happened?” Julie wasn’t going away.

“She cracked a joke as I took a mouthful of tea.”

“Oh,” said Julie as Stephanie’s smirk grew larger. “That explains the mess.” She looked disdainfully at the spots of tea across the table.

“Go and drown her idiot child or something equally useful,” I instructed my daughter.

“Hey, pick on someone your own size,” challenged our resident shrink.

“I did but they don’t fight fair.”

“Only because you’re so girly.”

“I’m so girly?” I felt the pitch of my voice rise. “At least I can walk past a mirror without preening.”

For a moment she glowered at me then the smug grin returned. “Finished?”

“Yeah, until I can think of a better insult.”

“Good, I’m glad you enjoyed that.”

“Oh bugger, I need to express again,” I could feel wet blobs forming on my top having soaked through the pads and the bra.

“Feel free, you can trust me, I’m a psychiatrist.”

“Julie, could you make some more tea while I get my stuff.”

“Sure,” answered my daughter, “You want me to drown her after?”

“Nah, too many witnesses–I’ll kill ’em both later.”

I returned a few minutes later wiped down my breast and attached the pump. We chatted about nothing in particular and I filled another bottle with milk.

“You’ve certainly got that down to a fine art, missus.”

“I’ve had a bit of practice.”

“I still can’t believe that it all happened spontaneously.”

“Well it did, I didn’t take anything except my usual oestrogen HRT.”

“I suspect a couple of babies are rather glad it did.”

“Three if you include Simon–he likes his milk shakes, as he calls them.”

She smiled at me. “I think if the truth were told, most husbands of nursing mothers do.”

“I wonder if the partners of nursing lesbians do?” Why that suddenly came into my brain and travelled out of my mouth, I couldn’t say.

“So I’m told. It’s just a form of intimacy between couples and therefore probably happens. Why did you raise the matter, anyway or is it too Freudian?”

“I just wondered. It’s beyond my experience and I wondered if you knew.”

“Not personally.”

“You said that very quickly,” I teased and she blushed. Was our little Stephanie gay?

She shrugged, “So, sue me.”

I said nothing but didn’t share any further conjecture or questions.

“I have to go, busy day tomorrow.” Stephanie stood up and stretched.

“I’ll go and find her,” I said and disappeared into the dining room where the three mouseketeers were fawning over the sleeping infant. “Sorry, she has to go back to her owner,” I said picking her up gently and carrying her back to the kitchen.

Stephanie wrapped her up in a blanket and handed her back to me while she pulled on her own coat. I switched on the outside lights and the cold dark night revealed some drops of rain on the windows. I watched shivering from the doorway while she carefully deposited her baby into her carrycot which was strapped to the seat of her car, a Mazda MX5, not the best car for small children. She started the engine and with a wave she headed off into the night. She sent me a text about twenty five minutes later to say they were both home safe.

While I was waiting for her to text me, I rounded up the children and sent them to bed and sent their grandfather to read to them–his choice so I’ve no idea what he read. I think we’ve done all the Gaby stories now, so until the usual author writes some more or that strange Welshwoman, they’ll have to find something else that was suitable.

I’m never sure if reading them stories about gender different children is fair or not because while Danni and Trish are, the other two aren’t. Arguably it gives them insight or makes it seem more normal than it is. Let’s face it, I heard the other day that about three thousand gender change certificates had been issued, like the ones that Julie and I have, since 2005 or whenever it happened–shows it isn’t that common. I accept loads of people might not bother to get them, in which case why bother to changeover at all? The answer is, different people have different levels of need–maybe, or maybe I see it in black and white–you’re either transsexual or you’re not, and to me that means going all the way. See, I’m an extremist, a militant even, but I don’t blame it on the voices or what God told me to do. It’s just my own prejudice, but then I didn’t like the original act because I thought it went too far and people I’d never accept as properly gender dysphoric were also able to change their birth certificates. Oh well nobody’s perfect.

I checked on Danni a bit later and she was reading something. “What’s that?”

She blushed and showed me. “The transgender guidebook?” I read aloud, “Where did you get this?”

“Cindy loaned it to me, you can buy it on Amazon.”

“You live in a house with half a dozen of us and you need to read a book about it?”

“Just making sure I don’t miss anything.”

I sat on the side of the bed. “I care about you, you know that I hope?”

“Course I do.”

“Good. Don’t get too many ideas from the book, it’s American and things are different over there to here.”

“I thought the Benjamin rules applied to both.”

“No, the institute of psychiatry or someone else has developed its own guildelines and besides, they still see you as a child and those rules are different again to adults. The rules in Europe differ as well, Holland is much more liberal or progressive than here.”

“Why? People are the same aren’t they?”

“Yes but collectively they’re not, cultures are different. In Iran, where being gay is a crime they have a large number of people having sex change surgery even though the rest of the world suggests they are doing it to gay men. You want to live with another man–become a woman.”

“That’s silly.”

“It’s outrageous, but they delude themselves that they have no gay men.”

“If I was a gay man, I’d leave the place or hide it from them.”

“Which I’m sure is what happens to many of them.”

“Why is it so different over there?”

“A mixture of religion and politics. In lots of ways Islamic countries are still dealing with a medieval culture and the ayatollahs run most of it. There are moves to modernise the country but just look at Saudi Arabia, a woman can’t go for a drive by herself.”

“Why? That’s crazy.”

“Because of the religious influence on the law. Men have tried to control female sexuality since time began. In strongly religious societies, they often succeed and women are hidden or prevented from showing their skin or their flesh.”

“It doesn’t happen here though does it?”

“Women still cover their heads in churches, not as much as they used to, but traditionalists still do. If you go to a church in a place like Malta, if you’re wearing short shorts or a sleeveless top, they’ll often ask you to cover up because it’s seen as being disrespectful.”

“Honestly. What I’ve always wanted to ask is how can it be disrespectful if according to their scriptures we’re made in the image of god?”

“What women as well?”

I gasped, “Of course, how d’you think men got here?”

“Oh yeah.” I kissed her goodnight and told her not to read too late and left before she thought too hard about what I’d just said. Corrupting young minds, I’m obviously a natural teacher.