Totally Insane 3(epilogue)
by Angharad

My mother found the article in The Independent’s archive on the internet.

“It says, children like you have a hard time in school.”

“Children like me?” I asked astonished.

“Yes, transgendered children.”

“But am I transgendered? “ I shrugged, I don’t think I’d heard the term until today.

“I’ll phone the doctor in the morning, we’ll find out.”

“Do we need to, I mean I don’t feel ill or anything?”

“Look, darling, we need to get this sorted. If you are, then we can begin therapy so you can transition as a girl.”

“Transition?” I squeaked.

“Yes, you know change over officially. I always wanted a daughter, we could have a day out tomorrow and do some shopping.”

“Of course, tomorrow is Saturday. I think I was supposed to be playing badminton.”

“That’s not until the evening.”

How come she could remember things like that when she wanted to, but forget at will as well. “I thought the doctor was closed at the weekends?” I only knew this because Daddy—damn there I go again–is always complaining that he had to work on Saturdays but the docs didn’t.

“So he is, never mind, I’ll call him on Monday. Still that means we could go shopping earlier.”

“Is that wise, Mummy?”

“I love it when you call me Mummy, it’s so girlish.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

“Is it wise, shouldn’t we wait until Daddy gets home?”

“Why? What does he know about girls’ clothes?”

I felt like allowing my head to fall forward and bang on the table, but as that would have hurt, I changed my mind. “Do we know if I need any yet?” I tried to appeal to her sense of logic.

“We’ll only get a couple of things, so you can wear them at weekends and evenings, just to get used to them.”

“I think I got used to them today,Mummy.”

“Yes, but that was in an alien environment, at home it will feel different, and I’d like you to feel relaxed in skirts and dresses.”

“Can’t I just wear jeans like all the other girls do?”

“All the other girls? That sounds like you’re seeing yourself as a girl.”

“I erm– “ I blushed, this wasn’t going as well as I’d intended.

“But I suppose we could get you some jeans or leggings.”

I smiled at this, maybe this wasn’t going to be soooooo bad after all. I mean, how could it go wrong? These were to be famous last words, as I found out later.

I was just about to tell my mother I wanted to go to bed when the door bell rang. I froze. Normally she would have told me to answer it, instead she opened her mouth looked at me, shook her head and got up from her chair.

She opened the door and I stood inside the study listening to the conversation.

“Can your boy come and help me, I put the baby in the house while I unloaded the car and I’ve shut the door with my keys inside the house.”

“I erm, don’t know if he’s in, I erm–”

“Please hurry, or I’ll have to call the police.”

She sounded frantic and normally I’d have picked up my kit and gone and opened her door. But normally, I’m not stood in a girl’s school uniform wearing makeup and almost crapping myself.

Mummy–damn there I go again–came to the study, “Did you hear that?”

“Yes, what should I do?”

“That’s up to you, darling, but she’s getting more frantic by the moment.”

“I’ll have to help her then, won’t I?”

“That’s up to you, but if you do your secret will be more public.”

“Yeah, but there’s a baby involved, isn’t there?”

“Yes, there is, Kylie.”

“Please do hurry,” called our neighbour.

I reached down and picked up ‘my’ handbag and walked out of the door, followed closely by my mother.

“Oh!” said the neighbour, “who are you?”

“This is Kylie, she’ll get your door open.”

“Kylie?” she was putting two and two together and about to get four.

“Shall we hurry, Mrs Johnson, your baby’s on her own.”

As we trotted across the close to her house she said, “Kylie, that’s Kyle with an ‘i’, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mrs Johnson, now do you want me to open the door or are we going to have a discussion on names?”

She shut up and led me to the door. I put down my handbag and pulled out my little tool kit. I’d done this door before, so it wasn’t going to take very long. We could hear the baby crying inside and the hatch of her car was still wide open with bags of shopping inside it.

I took out two of my lock picks and began feeling for the levers in the lock, I got the first and the others soon followed, I pulled down the handle and it clicked open.

She looked at me smiled, said, “Thanks,” and dashed inside to her child. I put my tools back and popped the cloth kit back into my backpack. I then picked up her shopping and carried it into her kitchen. The baby was still crying as I dumped the bags on her kitchen table. Then I went out and got some more. I took those in too, then picked up her car keys, shut the hatch cover down and locked it.

I was taking the keys back to her, into the house when she looked at me, “Look, Sarah, it’s Kylie, isn’t she a clever girl to get Mummy back into the house, when silly Mummy locked herself out?”

The baby smiled at me and gurgled. Normally, I’d have beat a hasty retreat but for some reason I couldn’t, instead I held out my finger to the baby who grabbed it and gurgled some more.

“She likes you; Kylie, here can you hold her a moment while I make up a bottle for her?”

Me? Hold a baby? Erm! Before I could say I was allergic to babies, she thrust her into my arms, which involuntarily reached up to take her. I instinctively cradled her in my left arm and tickled her with my right hand. She gurgled some more and I smiled. Sarah smiled back. I laughed and she gurgled again.

“Would you like to give her, her bottle?”

“I erm, I don’t know how,” I blushed and Sarah picked up on my nervousness and her bottom lip quivered. I spotted this and made a funny face and she giggled. This was such a strange experience, better than playing with a cat or dog.

“Sit down and cradle her as you are, then we put the bib around her like so.” She put a plastic bib around the baby’s neck. “You test the temperature of the bottle against your wrist or face, sprinkle a drop on the back of your hand, if it feels warm not hot, you offer it to the baby. Here, try it.”

I did as she instructed me, and the baby hungrily suckled the bottle. It was an amazing feeling. I felt so nervous, what if I dropped her, or she choked? So much responsibility, yet so satisfying. Wearing these stupid clothes was definitely rotting my brain!

“Right, take the bottle from her and rub her back to help wind her.” I’d seen women doing this with their babies, so I joggled her gently and patted her back.

“You’re a natural at this, Kylie,” she beamed at me, “I know where to come for a baby sitter, when she’s a bit older.”

I blushed.

“Right, that’s enough, more bottle.”

I offered the bottle and once more she hungrily suckled it. It was quite good fun. Then I winded her, this time getting a few burps which after they came up, Sarah, looked bemused by the experience.

“She’s lovely isn’t she,” I said holding on to my living doll.

“She’s so good, she goes four hours between feeds and rarely cries unless she’s hungry or frightened, like just now when you rescued us.” She looked at me holding and burping her baby and added, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“What feeding the baby?” I nodded, “Yes I am.”

“How long have you wanted to be a girl?”

“I erm– don’t know,” I spluttered, blushing furiously.

“For some time by the way you seem to act so naturally as one.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you’re even keeping your knees together when you sit down.”

I blushed, I had no answer to all this.

“Anyway, Kylie, I will call upon you first to baby sit for me, when Sarah’s a little older, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yes, Mrs Johnson, I’d like that.”

“Better than your dolls?”

“Oh yes!” I said enthusiastically before realising I didn’t have any dolls.

The phone rang and Mrs Johnson rose to answer it. Sarah, gurgled and burped at me and I cooed and talked to her.

“Oh hello, Mrs Mosse, no everything’s fine, Kylie’s feeding my baby. No don’t worry, I’ll send her home soon. Bye.” She returned to the kitchen where Sarah was still amusing me. The she seemed to be straining and grunting, I looked at her and then at her returning mother.

“Don’t look so worried, she’s filling her pants, they always do it when they’ve been fed. Have you ever changed a baby?”

I shook my head.

“Well now might be a good time to learn. Come on bring her with you.”

I followed her into the sitting room where she had a changing mat laid out on the floor.

“If you do it on the floor, they can’t fall off the mat, can they?”

“No, I suppose not.” It seemed eminently sensible to me.

She took the baby and laid her down on the mat and then brought over a whole plastic box of stuff. She showed me how to open the babygro and push it far enough under her to stay dry if the baby peed. She used what she called terry towel nappies, that was some sort of cloth stuff.

The plastic panties were pulled down and the nappy was revealed, it was yellow in places where I presume Sarah had wet. Then when she undid the large safety pin, the smell ! Aw phew, it ronked, worse than the cat’s box.

The nappy had a liner, so she picked up most of the poo in that and wrapped it in a tissue. Then she used a wet wipe to wipe her bum and she got me to redress her with the clean nappy.

Fold it into triangle powder or cream her bum, put a nappy liner on the nappy, put this bit over that and tuck this bit over that pop in the pin, watching not to stick it into the baby. Nah too loose, try again.

At the third attempt, I had got it. It was actually more a question of knowing how tight to do it, I was frightened of hurting Sarah, but they need to be tight enough to stay in place. I pulled the clean plastic panties over the nappy and redid the babygro.

Under Mrs Johnson’s supervision, I picked up the baby and put her in her cot, gave her her dummy, and rocked the cot for a few minutes until she dozed off to sleep.

I looked around and Mrs Johnson had gone, I pretended I hadn’t noticed and kept gently rocking the cot. The vanishing lady returned a few minutes later.

“Thank you so much for getting me back into the house, please accept this.” She handed me twenty pounds.

“I can’t accept that, Mrs Johnson.”

“Please, I insist.” She shoved the banknote into my hand. The she handed me two large plastic bags. “Look, I don’t know how serious you are about being a girl, but my younger sister left a whole pile of stuff here last year, which she told me to give to a charity shop. She’s a bit older than you but you’re about the same size, so please take them, keep what you want and dump the rest or give them to Oxfam.”

Oh poo! Now what do I do? Everyone seems to think I want to be a girl, what am I doing wrong? “That’s very kind of you Mrs Johnson,” I was going to add, ‘But no thanks,’ except my mouth wouldn’t form the words.

“Did you enjoy playing Mummies for real?”

To my great embarrassment, I did. “Yes, thank you I did,” I blushed.

“I’m so glad. Look any time you want to be Kylie, just dress up and pop over if I’m here. You can help me with the baby or I’ll show you how do some makeup or hair styles. Okay, it’s not an empty offer, I mean it.”

“I erm,” I blushed furiously, “thank you, you’re so kind.”

“I mean it, girl, and I think you’re so brave. It takes a lot of bottle to do what you’re doing.”

“I’d better go, thanks for the clothes and the money.” I ran home as fast as I could.

Once inside, I knew I’d face a new interrogation, I wasn’t disappointed.

“Lock was more difficult than you thought, was it?”

“No, it was okay.” I fidgeted as I spoke, then took my back pack off.

“So what took so long?”

“I had to help Mrs Johnson with the baby.”

“You had to help her with the baby? She usually manages by herself doesn’t she?”

“I dunno,” I said and blushed.

“So what did you do?”

“I gave her a bottle and helped to change her.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes I did.”

“You really are a girl, aren’t you?”

“Why, men look after babies too!” I protested.

“What’s in the plastic bags?”

“She gave me some clothes her sister left there, she doesn’t want them any more.”

“Well let’s see what’s there then.” She began pulling stuff out of the bags, oohing and aahing every so often. “That’s nice, ooh underwear too, and a nightie, well Kylie, looks like we’ll be okay for tomorrow.”

“What do you mean?” I asked almost in fear and trembling.

“You have some stuff to wear to go into town.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” I wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea.

“Here try these on,” she handed me a skirt and top. I struggled out of the school clothes and redressed in the skirt and top. The skirt was a plain red kilt type thing and the top was a long sleeved red paisley affair with a round neck. It fitted rather too well for me to object to wearing it.

Next came a dress and after that another skirt and different tops, finally I tried on the two bras, they were too big, so Oxfam got something. However, Mummy–damn, I’ve done it again!–said I could wear Gemma’s tomorrow and we’d buy her a new one.

I went to bed finally in a nightdress with kittens and teddy-bears all over it, it was perfectly comfortable except for the fact that I’m a boy, or should that be, was a boy.

I awoke in a sweat, I dreamt I was in school and I went to the loo. I was stood at the urinals and when I went to grab ‘Percy’ to point at the porcelain, so to speak, I couldn’t find him!

I shoved my hand inside my trousers and my underpants and felt around, it wasn’t there. I ran into one of the cubicles and dropped my pants and undies and when I looked… That was when I woke up, so I’m not sure what happened, except, I checked and everything was present and correct. Phaw! That was some ‘orrible dream.

I awoke with my mother poking me, “Come on, time to get up.”

“Muuuuuuuuum, it’s seven o’clock on a Saturday morning.”

“Come on, we have lots to do.”

I yawned, “You go an’ do them, an’ I’ll just go back to–”

The clothes were ripped off me, revealing the nightdress which I’d forgotten about. “Come on, young lady, get up.”

“Do we have to?” I yawned again.

“Yes we do, now come along and in the shower, wash and condition your hair, come along, child,” she poked me as I was about to fall asleep sitting up on the bed.

After showering, I came out like I’d seen her, with a towel wrapped around my chest, and a smaller one around my hair, in a turban. I went to my bedroom and she’d laid out the knickers and bra, the red top and the skirt. There was also a pair of white knee high socks and of course Gemma’s shoes.

“I don’t know if I should be using Gemma’s shoes, these are her best ones,” I complained.

“It’s only until we get some of your own, then we can pop them in a bag and take them back with the rest of the uniform. I washed it last night after you went to bed and I ironed it just now.”

My mother seems to be able to do things like that, get up and spring into action: me? I spring back into bed. I dried my body and pulled on the clothes, the panties were different to the ones I’d worn yesterday, so where had they come from, maybe Mrs Johnson’s sister.

I struggled with the bra but got it on, shoved in the plastic foam which gave me some boobs, and pulled on the top and skirt. They felt okay I suppose, the socks were okay, like football ones only no turnover at the top and they were a bit lacy.

I had a quick breakfast of cereal, fruit and a cup of tea, then Mummy–doh!–did my hair. Gel and other stuff, then blow dried with a brush thing. It was even better than when Karen had done it.

“Right, go and do your makeup.”

“Erm, do I have to?”

“Do you want other people recognising you?”

“Can’t I wear a mask like Zorro?”

“Kylie!”

“Okay, okay, I was only joking.” I went off and put on some lip gloss, eyeliner and mascara. I stepped back from the mirror, no one would ever imagine I was a boy under all this stuff. It was heartening, in that it would help protect me, it was worrying at the same time. I’m supposed to be a boy.

I clomped down the stairs and my mother held out a fleece jacket for me.

“Where did that come from?” I asked suspiciously.

“I bought it for you last year but I didn’t think you’d wear it, as it was a bit girly. But it will be fine for today.”

I shrugged and pulled it on, then put on my backpack on top.

“We need to get you one of your own so you can give that back to Karen or Gemma.”

“Yes, Mother,” I decided agreeing with her was safer today.

We drove to town and after parking, went around the shops. It was so boring! Nah, that’s a lie, it was actually funny watching my mother act like a teenager. I’ve been with her when she’s shopped for clothes for herself, it’s painful. But today, she was rushing about and holding things up to me and asking me to look through racks of things. It wasn’t my money we were spending, so why should I worry? My twenty quid was safely stored in my purse in my bag. That was going to buy some new mini screwdrivers and The Manic’s latest album.

We did buy some jeans and a top. The jeans were all embroidered on the one hip and were as tight as tight could be. She told me I’d really need to wear a thong with them to avoid VPL whatever that is.

We bought bras and more panties and the thongs. She showed me what they were and I laughed. “I’m not wearing something with a strap that goes up my bum!”

“They’re actually quite comfortable,” she said putting them in the basket.

At the shoe shop, well, how many pairs of shoes is it worth buying for someone who only exists in the imagination of others. I don’t see myself as a girl, even wearing a skirt and makeup, but my mother obviously does. We bought a pair of flat pumps, which I immediately put on and put Gemma’s shoes in the bag. I had a pair of school shoes — what for? I have boy shoes for school. We also bought a pair of soft boots, which I decided were unlikely to be weather proof, so why wear them? Apparently they are a fashion statement.

We got me some makeup, some more earrings and some smellies. I think Mummy must have spent a couple of hundred for something that doesn’t exist. It struck me as wasteful, but I wondered how I’d feel if I suspected my child was trans–whatever she said it was. Transgendered, that’s the word, what a mouthful!

We had some lunch, I did wonder what my horrible sibling was going to have for his, but it was only midday so he’d still be asleep. I was glad we’d gone back to the car to dump all the bags, I’d lost count of what we’d bought.

Lunch was fab, my favourite, egg an’ chips. We never have them at home, the chips, that is. I do occasionally buy them out or have them in school, but ever since Jamie Oliver did his ‘healthy eating in schools’ campaign, they don’t do them very often there either. I mean at this rate, I’ll never die, because it’s eating fast food that kills you. The good thing about that, is, Brian eats loads of burgers and things, so maybe I will outlive him! Hee hee!

Mum got her nails done and insisted that I get mine done too. How could I say in front of the girl, “But I’m back to a boy for school on Monday!” So I had to go along with it. I’m sure I’ll be able to get them off by then. They do make my fingers feel funny, like my nails are extra thick, which I suppose they are.

As we left I said, “What about school?”

“Do you really want a girl’s school uniform?”

“No Mummy, what about my nails and school?”

“I doubt the teachers will say anything, they don’t stop you wearing makeup do they?”

I grabbed her sleeve, “Mummy, I don’t wear makeup to school, remember I’m a boy.”

“Don’t be silly, Kylie,” we walked on and suddenly she stopped and put her hand over her mouth. “Gosh! You are too, I’d forgotten you act so like a real girl.”

“Well yes, I don’t want to get arrested for using a girl’s changing room.”

“Have you enjoyed it?” she asked putting her arm around me.

“You have, haven’t you?”

“Yes, darling, I have, thank you for indulging your silly old mum.”

“It’s been fun,” I said.

“So are you going to stay Kylie until Monday?”

“I suppose I could.”

“Do you want to invite Gemma and Karen over for tea tomorrow?”

“Gemma might come, but I doubt Karen would.”

“Well why don’t you ask her when we drop her stuff off?”

“Should I buy them both a little present for helping me?”

“Yes, what a good idea. What did you have in mind?”

“We got makeup to replace the stuff Karen gave me, and underwear to replace what Gemma loaned me, how about some earrings?”

“Do they have pierced ears?”

“Yes, who do you think conned me?” I pointed at my own studs.

She laughed and we went off arm in arm to Claire’s to look for some in there.

On the way home we stopped at the Smith’s house. Karen was out but Gemma wasn’t. My mother is an acquaintance of Mrs Smith, so they went off to have a cup of tea in the kitchen and Gemma dragged me upstairs to her room.

“Kylie,” she said and gave me a huge hug, “Is this a fashion statement?” she said pointing at my red skirt and top.

“It’s a long story, and before I tell you, I need to give you back your uniform,” I handed over the bag. “Some replacement bra and panties,” I handed over the new ones, “And some stuff that Karen loaned me.” I gave her that bag too.

She went and got us some drinks and biscuits and I told her all about what happened with Brian and with Mrs Johnson and her baby.

“You like, fed and changed a baby, a real live baby?”

“Yeah, she’s so good.”

“Golly, girl, you’re getting broody!” She fell back on the bed laughing and I sat there speechless and blushing.

“So Brian got off scot free?”

“Dunno, my dad isn’t so easy, he’ll ground him or fine him.”

“What’ll he say about you?”

I blushed again, “I dunno, probably send me off to a loony bin!”

“Well we have spaces in our one, but you’d have to wear the uniform again.”

“If I’d sat in the loo any longer I would have been a basket case.”

“In which case you could make your own in handicrafts.” She roared again and I laughed with her.

“You doin’ anything tomorrow?”

“I don’t date girls,” she sniggered.

“No, Mummy asked if you and Karen would like to come over to tea?”

“Dunno about Karen, I ‘spect she’ll be out, she always is these days.

“Oh I forgot, these are for you.” I handed her the crystal earrings.”

“They’re lovely,” she said, “why are you buying me prezzies?”

“To say thank you for helping me yesterday and maybe helping me discover another side to life.”

“You like being a girl don’t you?”

“It’s like, okay.” I said and we hugged each other.

“So am I gonna see Kylie more often?” she said her eyes sparkling.

“Well you’re coming to tea tomorrow, but after that, I’ll have to see what Daddy says, if he’s okay, I know Mummy is, and Mrs Johnson said I’m welcome to go over there anytime I like and she’ll teach me how to look after the baby or how to do my hair an’ things.”

“You can always come over here too. It’s nice to have a girlfriend I don’t go to school with. When we’re older we can go after boys together.” She clapped her hands together.

“I dunno about that bit,” I blushed, I still didn’t know who I fancied and who I didn’t. I suppose there was no hurry.

“Sounds like you enjoy being a girl, though don’t you?”

“Yeah, it’s been fun and no one has beaten me up since.”

“Maybe we won’t go after boys, they sound nasty.”

“Some of them are, but so are some girls, remember Liz and Megan.”

“What’s going to happen there?”

“I dunno, that’s Brian’s problem.”

I looked at the new watch Mummy had bought for me, “Crikey, I have to play badminton tonight. I can’t, I can’t get these nails off.”

“They’re rather nice, my mother doesn’t take me to a nail salon.” She poked her tongue out at me.

“What am I gonna do?”

“They’ll come off with nail varnish remover; it’s just fiddly. Why don’t you phone him and say you can’t make it?”

I opened my new ‘kitten’ backpack and pulled out my phone and dialled Philip.

“Hi, Kylie,” he said to me, I nearly dropped the phone. “Look could you try and look a bit more girly tonight, we’re playing in the mixed doubles…”

It was originally my intention to finish this here, however, popular demand and bribery, meant I have continued it.

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Thanks to Gabi for editing improvements any errors still present are mine alone.