Well every good story I have heard about starts at the beginning, or so I am told.

I would love to say I was born at a good time for both of my loving parents.

The truth is I don't believe my mother knew my father. It was a one night fling after a very drunk bar night. My mother was young at the time. Around seventeen, and like most of the girls her age, believed a one night of sex was not enough to get her pregnant. She was wrong.

According to her, my grandparents were furious, which I believe, and almost kicked her out. Mother finished highschool under much scorn being very pregnant and missed out on her prom. Mom had me, recovered as much as she could before going off to college to be able to find a way to support me. I wont say it was easy.

Knowing my mother it was probably very tough for her to even get a job, go to college, and then take care of me as much as possible so that my grandparents were not always taking care of me. I was a somewhat happy child, so I was told, that would play with whatever was put in front of me. The lego doll was the funniest as I would, apparently ,cry everytime it fell apart.

My grandparents, having been working class all their life, even to the point of just past retirement age, were not well off, I don't remember much of that time, but I do know that some of my pictures it is hard to see exactly what gender I was. I apparently didn't care if it was pants, dress, or otherwise. My first baby picture actually shows me in a pink satin trimmed and white dress.

Your thinking that is great. Welll... problem is when you look at back of picture you can clearly see Mark age 2. Yes Mark. Not Marcie or Mary, Mark. Surprise I was born a boy!

To be honest to my memory I didn't see the difference between boy's clothes and girl clothes. In a way I still don't. Mom worked through college, got a job doing taxes and book work in an office, then took night classes at university to become, or more accurately, get a bachelors in business management. We never had a lot of money growing up. Granddad died when I was five, grandma died the year after. What little they had put away paid off the house, which was not insured, and gave mom the money to enrol in university.

I was put in an afterschool day care program for low income mothers. I was a sickly child too so that did not help. Something about chromozone problem. My growth was sorta stunted because of that. Then at the age of ten I had to go into emergency as my testicles developed stage two cancer.

What does all that mean? Well in a nutshell. I never developed properly as a guy. I mean sure not a female puberty since I didn't have breasts..per se.. but my hip bones didn't develop as at guy either. Actually most of my bone structure is halfway between a guy and a girl. I have been on low dose testosterone for most of my life. The belief was that I would decide for sure if I wanted to develop as a guy first before upping the dose. It was enough for me to reach my average height of five feet seven, or eight depending on who measured me.

Brown hair, brown eyes, very little facial or body hair. Pretty much one of those guys you see in the back of classroom that you look at and immediately forget. My nose was broken and reset so many times they ended up giving me a nose job in my senior year of highschool just so i could breath normally. When the swelling went down it was a little undersized for my liking. I was trying to be a man, or a should say 'Man" at the time so having a nose that was okay for a girl but not for a guy.. well I was not happy.

I got depressed and stopped taking my pills. I also gained a lot of weight. By the time I was halfway through university, I took business management like my mother but to a lesser degree, I think I got up to almost three hundred pounds. I developed breathing issues, my doctor told me to lose the weight to get rid of the breathing issues or I would be breathing oxygen out of tank. That may have been a scare tactic.

For someone twenty three years old it was enough, along with a list of other health problems, to get me back on track to lose weight. I took up hiking, and when I didn't go hiking I walked.

Sounds funny but after two years I lose almost a hundred pounds of weight. My breathing was better. It became a routine. I still do a lot of walking even now. It helps to clear my head, and there is lot's to see on hiking trails as they change every season and year.

There was just one little problem. After not taking my pills for about three years, I graduated of course, my figure was not that of a normal males. I had more development around my hips and butt that is normal for a guy. Or in plain language, I wear womens pants, for uk readers yes even those. For the longest time I preferred to wear panties. Cotton plain black or white panties to be sure with a thicker elastic waist band. But still panties.

About the only difference between men's and women's is the cut. Unfortunately most, but not all, women's pants, jeans, have no pockets. I always had to search for ones that looked like guys but were cut for women. It was the only way I could get my hands in that dang pockets.

And yes I also had small moobs. Just enough development to give me...something to play with. I actually liked them and it allowed to me uhm get my rocks off. Playing with junior didn't do much since it was small. It is not surprising that half the time I was called miss or maam. My voice was never that , well I would love to say deep but that is not true.

I spoke like a guy , but when I tried to put a little bit of musical to it, totally sounded like my mother. Mom and I got a laugh out of it.

My mother and I got along great for years. She never judged me, nor made any complaints. While she was alive my mother just kept doing what she could, for her work, and for me.

We lived in a condo on the second floor. Underground parking for our one vehicle, mom's white Honda Accord. I wont say it is the best car as the garage guy for the apartment ended up fixing this or that a few times a year. Technically he is the security/building maintenance guy. Boyd is a nice older guy. I can't say how old as we never asked. We, or anyone in building, had a minor problem with car he would try to take care of it, anything major got towed out to whatever garage it needed.

Taps, doors, or in our case, the rusted out balcony that was really a danger to everyone, he took care of himself. I don't think he welded up the new ones himself, after ours went bad everyone else's was checked about found out to be close too. Sinking steel into concrete is a bad idea apparently. But I do know he installed it.

Boyd saw me when I was my biggest and as I lost weight. While I was in univeristy we moved into the condo unit. Grans old place is being rented out by a carpenter who turned grandad's old shed into a woodworking shop. Occasionally we hear from him about things he wants to do to house. I know he took all the old furniture and made it look like classic antiques, well I guess they are but to me they were these ugly painted things, as well as, now for this I am not sure of the word. It can be refurbish or refinish or restore. I have not seen the place but I do know he found some stuff hidden by years of grandpa's attempts to modernize the house over the years.

All that means is we didn't get much more than enough to pay the property taxes for rent. He did a bunch of work to the place, I say did because he passed away not long ago. I have been paying for the electricity, enough to keep the place from freezing, as well as some security guys to watch the house via the alarm system.

When I grew up there it was not the nicest neighbourhood. I wont say crime was high but it was not the safest. All houses had high chainlink fences and solid doors with multiple locks. About five years ago it changed. Neighbourhoods are like that, they go from good to bad, to really bad, then abandonment of places, they get torn down, empty lots, then new houses and places go up in value.

Last time I had to drive there it was a shock to be honest. The old house was there but it wasn't. Gone was the old blue multiple layers of paint, grandpa loved blue, I hate it. The front of house had all wood siding, original apparently. The old plywood covered porch was gone and in its place was a covered porch that looked well like those old houses on tv. The really good looking ones with wood v things holding the roof up over a wood floor porch and no railings. Gone was the metal fence and weed choked yard, my childhood grass cutting torment, a fairly nice sloping lush grass yard and that one weird sickly tree was now a fully grown apple tree.

There is a wooden fence leading to a weird door garage, single. I remember there being a flat topped thing that was full of grandpa's junk. Behind that was the shed, now a nice shop, and a garden that was really well thought out. Flower beds, a pond, and places to grow stuff in risen beds with fencing. All that was surrounded by a thick hedge in the back with trees to give shade as well as a nice wooden fence.

I did not see inside the house. I was just there to go over property as part of the will. Sign a few things and that was that. Ed, the guy who did all that stuff was more than happy to show me his surprising wood shop. I could just see that part of it was grandad's old shed, but only a small part. Something about property occlusion clauses or something. Pipes on the ceiling with hoses to various machines that I had no clue as to their purpose. Well lit.

I should explain. Again back to beginning, more or less. Growing up we didn't have much for money. Mom need to always appear professional for work. So as the years went by she spent more and more time in skirts or dresses for work. I know by the time we had been in the condo for a year she just didn't bother with pants anymore. Come home from work, take off her blazer, make dinner, then more work at her desk till bedtime. On weekend she just work an older simple skirt, a simple blouse, and her every present heels. She once mentioned something about calf muscles preventing her from using anything but heels but I didn't get it.

Mom, the way she did things, and how she dressed was my mental image of how a woman should dress for work. This is not to say she didn't have more, well fun, skirts or dresses, she did, but didn't wear them much.

Mom looked quite nice for most of the time she was alive it was only much later that her age took it's toll. About the time I started to lose weight by walking mom hid something from me. She developed breast cancer. Both of her impressive breasts were removed. She had forms made up that glue to her chest so that nobody would know.

I was busy with university or otherwise not home. She was there when I graduated, with honors, and for a few months after but she was not doing well. Again she hid it from me, they had not been able to get rid of cancer. Her long hair was replaced with a wig that was styled the same as her normal hair. A very nice human hair wig that again glues in place. I just didn;t know.

So imagine my surprise to one morning find my mother drooling in bed unable to respond to my repeated attempts to get her to do, well something! I took it hard. The hazy time after of repeated trips to and from hospital to hopefully get my mother back was hard. During her stay her forms and wig was removed, I took these home and placed them in her room after finding their special places.

I had applied to a few places via the computer, unbeknownst to me a trojan had been on it changing things slightly.

Such as my application to one place. Instead of Mark Andy Parker on both the online application, as well as my resume copy. It got changed to Mary-ann Parker. Had I been paying attention I would have noticed. It was also changed on my Laser printed resumes that I handed out. Resume's on watermarked expensive paper.

To be fair my mind was kinda occupied at the time dealing with losing my mother, which did happen after she fought for five months. At the end I could barely recognize my mother. Her wisps of hair was scraggly, her face sunken in and arms were just barely there. She would mumble to try and reassure me. She never completely lost her mind, or so I believe. The cancer was just eating away at her organs and muscles. Her face even had this rather large patch of cancerous skin that, at the end, would ooze puss once and awhile.

I couldn't bear to have anyone see her like that. Plus I believe that she would scold me fierce for letting anyone see her like that. Holding her jar of ashes is still the hardest thing I ever had to do. I don't remember the taxi ride home. Or Boyd holding me up as he helped me to the condo apartment.

About two weeks later I held her funeral. I was buried in my one, now oversized, suit without a tie. Some of her coworkers and her former boss attended the funeral, along with Ed. Some of our relatives came by, which, most I had hardly met. Due to a problem with the funeral parlour, or to be more accurate my horrible writing combined with that stupid trojan, Everyone called my Mary thoughout the funeral. While I was dressed my female relatives did there best to help me along as I was crying almost the entire time. I didn't notice that they had done something with my brown hair to make it look more nice.

I did not have long hair, like my mother did, but it was longer than I usually kept it. Collar length and kinda knotted. I think my one aunt did some trimming with scissors to give me a slight short hair side wave thing. I was on anti depressants for awhile that made my brain...muddy, for thinking. Being called Mary just didn't bother me.

The wake was held in the basement of our condo. The manager of the building was there and assured me that I could stay on in the condo as it was part of the agreement with my mother. He would just have the name changed on the entry. I should have paid attention. As you guessed it. It said Mary-ann.

It was a hard time for me. Sending out resume's via mail, online, and dealing with estate. Mom had developed a bit of a nest egg in investments. It was a bit of a shock to find out at the lawyers that mom's will, also from same computer if you wonder, listed me as her sole beneficiary of close to three million. However because of income taxes, if I cashed that in as soon as it came due, I would have pay, in lue of mother, income taxes on it. Instead we had it reinvested under my name using an inheritance clause for five years to get around the taxes. I would still have to pay some but not as much. Depending on how much interest it developed.

It was the lawyer Sam Brown that pointed out the error of Mary-ann. With the help of his son we found the blasted trojan that caused me problems so far. He also had me go through changing passwords, luckily nothing major was hacked or stolen. The computer was mostly used for stuff like calculating numbers by mom, or writing reports. The most important thing was my resume's and application errors.

I found out that I was considered Mary-ann on the building entry, the manager, Boyd the garage guy, as well as some relatives I had never met that came to funeral. The rest just though I was transgender.

I had never really given wearing women's clothing a thought before, like I said it wasn't really an issue since I wore women's pants and panties for my entire life before.

Between the time of mom in hospital, my regular walks in sweat pants, which was about the only thing that didn't fall down anymore, and dealing with all the estate stuff. I ended up losing another sixty pounds. I was kinda shocked to find I was that skinny to be honest. I had not had a twenty three inch waist since I got my nose fixed.

Looking in the mirror of the bathroom properly for the first time I could see glimpses of my mom in the mirror. My nose gave me a bit of a feminine look, like mom's. It had softened over the years, along with the rest of my skin. Naked I looked like a somewhat hairy flat chested woman.

Maybe it was a combination of insanity, curiosity, or just being called Mary-ann so much, but suddenly I wanted to know what me as Mary-ann could really look like.

It took me two baths to get rid of all the hair on my body. Arms, legs, little bit on chest, underarms, and just to be sure I used the nair like stuff on face. It was a bottle that mom had gotten. I guess she didn't like shaving either. It smelled weird and left a slime on the tub that I had to wash off before I took a final bath with oils in it like mom did.

It was an interesting experience. It was not a bad experience but after all that smelling like flowers was giving me a headache. Not a bad headache or anything but my sinuses didn't like it that much. I tried to put up with it but ended up rinsing with the shower to get rid of the smell. It was still there but at least my sinuses were not feeling it. Note to self. After using nair product smear on body lotion. After ten minutes of my skin feeling tight I did that.

Wandering into mom's domain felt wrong after so many years, I had to remind myself that everything here was now mine to do with as I pleased. Looking in the mirror I tried to see the Mary-ann that others saw and could not. It was just me. Thinking that maybe actually having breasts might help I went in search of mom's forms. To some it may seem sick but when you think of it they are just forms, these ones having been disinfected and cleaned at hospital there was no reason to fear them.

Just holding them in my hands it was almost as if i had a piece of mom with me. I did put them down thinking it was stupid to even think it and was going to leave the room.

Thirty minutes later I was sitting on my..new bed with my breasts glued into place. Having read directions on them as well as my hair I looked up to see a young girl in the mirror. Well almost a young girl, I guess you could say a young woman. Not my mother but definitely her daughter. I could see that it was Mary-ann but she needed something more.

I would love to say that a bit of makeup was easy. It was not. I watched many videos after making a mess of my face a number of times. Even then they make it look so easy on screen. It really isn't. I mean I could do some basic stuff now but the more uhm advanced stuff was not easy. I could easily see why it took mom, and the girls on tv, so long to get ready. This stuff wasn't easy.

I even took a try at doing my nails. That was a joke. The varnish was uneven and lumpy and some on edges over fingers. Redoing it got it a little smoother but still sloppy as parts of my nails were missed while others had smeared when I touched stuff or my fingers. Toes were not that bad.

But at least I got to see myself as Mary-ann. She could look pretty nice if she tried but was no clear beauty. Washing my face and cleaning off my nails was one of the last things I did for makeup that night. I removed the forms and wig. Tomorrow was another day and I had to be Mark.

Or so I thought. The next morning saw me with my breasts and hair in place trying makeup again. By noon I looked pretty. It was satisfying. I spent some time in mirror practicing saying "Hi! I'm Mary-aan. Pleased to meet you."

More videos on hair care was spent learning the intricasies of turning a mass of long messy hair into something better. Again it wasn't easy, but worse than that. I was getting hungry. For the first time I put on a bra, that I again had to watch a video as it didn't go well. Then another video on fashion tips for getting dressed that I thankfully watched before trying to put on pantyhose.

As I wanted a casual look I went without the hose but did put on a small slip to go under the mini box pleat tan skirt, also called a khaki skirt for some reason. I coupled that with a pair of light beige heels that fit. I was surprised that mom and I had the same feet. I had also thought hers were smaller than my size seven mens. Her size eights, well they were newer ones as the old ones seemed smaller, fit okay. Walking in them was a different story. For a top I had chosen a simple v neck red with very short sleeves.

I found it...comfortable. Not just the skirt either. It wasn't the lingerie or the makeup. It was like the whole being my girl self that felt comfortable. It's hard to explain. When I looked in the mirror it was myself but more myself. Heel walking without twisting my ankle involved a video and practice taking smaller steps, swinging my hips a little more, apparently I never walked with shoulders who knew.

I mean this was a temporary one time thing. Who cared what I did in my own apartment. I had fun with it. I practised dancing and talking like a girl while waiting for the pizza to arrive. I even went so far as to put my id and stuff from my wallet into mom's old purse.

When the pizza guy came I got my pizza with door wide open and smile on my face. Yeah right I panicked and only opened the door a little speaking very little. After paying with my visa card that only had my first initial on it. Which didn't really matter as it was tap, put in pin and sign on receipt.

With door closed and locked I relaxed my back on it.

"Mary-ann you stupid twit" I said to myself.

"This is nuts. I need to put on some normal clothes."

I fully intended to do just that. I tried twice in my room. Take off my top and skirt. Try to put on pants but they just fell each time and my old tshirts was like wearing a dress. Sobbing a little I left my old room in my top and skirt with my heels back on. Closing that door was like I was closing something else. Eatting I ate but just nibbled at my pizza.

After three pieces I felt not hungry. Not that I was full, just not hungry. When you know you used to eat a full pizza like that and find that only a quarter was eaten you just sigh. Taking another one of my anti depressants I sat in living on couch with my feet curled to side like mom eventually falling asleep. I don't remember if I even turned on the tv.

I mostly woke up close to midnight, removed makeup my clothes slipped on a short satiny nighty and slept in my bed.

Waking up to a mouthful of hair and the realization I put on a nighty, a mildly sexy one, regardless of how good it felt, was a bit of a shock.

"Mary-ann you have to stop this! Your not a girl!" I said to myself. Actually I said it more than a few times. While washing myself in the bathtub with my hair in a bathing cap. While I sat there and started to pluck at my eyebrows until they started to look more curved and not a straight line, while I used two icecubes, some hydrogen peroxide, and a needle to pierce my ears then put in my pearl studs. Even when I did a pretty good job on putting on my face.

When I reached the door in my simple flared white skirt with a purple v neck top showing off my cleavage my matching purse over my shoulder and my heels on feet. It took all I had to close the door. I was so close to going out dressed as a girl for the first time.

I didn't, in the end I chickened out and dressed in my gym pants tied as tight as possible. I took the long walk to store as I had not walked the day before. I did my normal browse in the supermarket at this and that trying to figure out what I wanted to eat. It took a bit but I finnaly started to relax as I shopped feeling more like my old self.

I selected some fish, chicken that was on sale, some ready made style noodle and sauce things, milk and butter. I didn't really need that much. At the checkout no mention was made of my appearance. this relaxed me further. It was not till I left the supermarket that I realized two things. One I was still wearing the earrings, and two I felt wrong without my breasts. I did my best to ignore it. Plenty of guys wear earrings.

Passing the nail salon on the way home I stopped and wondered how much it would cost to have my nails done. I had to shake my head. Back at home I made myself some soup and sat to have a bowl. I had to fight with myself again. I was getting so uncomfortable.

Walking into the nail salon two hours later in my white skirt and purple top, hair and makeup done with my purse over my shoulder felt nice. Getting some sport nails tips on my hands done in red as well as my feet made me feel so good. I mean they were my clothes, my makeup, my hair, my breasts so why not wear them if they make me feel good?

A nice clear day made me want to walk but doing so in heels was hard on my feet. Even more so since my cute toes were poking out the front. I knew I need to find a remedy for this. A stop at the small corner shoe store simplified this somewhat with some sandals with a slightly raised rear heel in white. The breeze across my silky smooth legs sent shivers up my spine.

I did not go for a really long walk, mostly due to me stopping in at stores to look at different outfits on manikins. I did find a nice denim skirt at the discount trift store that had a bit of lace at the tiny front pockets and a wrinkly look that I learned was called acidwash. I loved it and bought it. I did not find any tops that appealed to me before I left for home.

At home I washed my new skirt as well as what I wore yesterday by hand then left them to hang dry in the closet on the rack that turned out for just that purpose in the closet. I made my fish that night with some noodles for dinner. At the computer I browsed the job boards saw a few possiblities. Two would only accept resumes in person. I wrote the details down on the notepad beside the computer. I watched more videos on makeup, one on eyebrow plucking and more hair videos. That night before bed I did some more plucking of my eyebrows and after a bit got them to look right.

My hair I washed and put into a long braid. Which was not as hard as I thought it would be since I had glued it on my head that afternoon. I also cleaned my ears and earrings with peroxide before putting them back in for bed. I wore the same style night as the night before just in a different color. I made note to get up early enough to find one of my suits to wear.

I had fully intended to go out dressed as Mark. I tried but as soon as I started to even attempt to remove my hair or my breasts I shivered.

At seven I managed to leave my apartment after two aborted attempts in two other skirt suits that were a touch too dressy. I made it as far as the elevator before I all but ran back to the apartment. Off went the pants, dress shirt and tie as quick as I could I got properly dressed in a dark bra but white panty, open toed pantyhose, a slip , my wine colored short sleeve satiny blouse and white skirt suit with short sleeves on the jacket. I slipped into the same white heels of the day before, put on nice simple necklace, watch, and changed my earrings to some little dangly hearts.

I was still doing up the buttons on my blouse as I got into the elevator. I had to use the mirrored surface to make sure I looked good and proper. Breathing a sigh of relief to be dressed properly I left the elevator and used what was now my car to drive to the first place. To say I was nervous is a bit of an understatement. I used the breathing techniques I learned in school and practiced how I would present myself for one of the not unknown sudden interviews.

"Hi I'm Mary-Ann Parker. I would like to apply.."

The first one of the day is always the hardest. It was a good thing I had plenty of Resume's with my name on them as I applied, and got two interviews, that day out of five places I applied too.

The last place was more of a spur of the moment thing but I stopped in not far from the lawyers at what appeared to be a regular office building. There was the signs on bottom showing coffee house and a retailer. I learned that one can never tell a book by it's cover that day. The building had two bigger businesses in it. I had to use three of my resumes, thank god for large purses, and got an interview, followed by second interview by an older woman.

I had thought I was doing so well as I talked with Tabitha. She was a quick study it seemed. She found out that my legal name was Mark. I was flustered at first before I broke down into tears. I was so close and I was such an idiot. Tabitha was quick on her feet though. She blocked me from leaving. Taking my hand she listened as I finally poured out all my feelings and confusion.

Turns out it was fate, or maybe mothers guiding hand. Tabitha had transitioned later in life. She was aware of everything I was going through. To be honest she may have colored some things with her own views but she did her best to help me. One of which was to call over my lawyer to set the ball rolling on getting my name, as she put it , corrected. Second, and this was a condition she put in to hiring me, we went to my place and I had to, as she call it, purge temptation and removed all of my old stuff.

My old room became a guest room.

I wont say it was easy. My first month of being on hormones after extensive session with psychiatrists was not fun. I'm surprised she put up with my mood swings. When Ed passed away I was no longer needing to wear my mothers old wig or her forms. My breasts just needed a little enhancement to fill my bras.

At first his relatives wanted to claim all of my grandparents old furniture as legally theirs. However , after a bit of a stint in court, where they tried to have me declared insane because I was trans, this didn't go over well at all, I was awarded full custody of everything on the estate.

Months later I left the, now sold, condo for the last time. As part of the sale a bunch of the furniture had to stay. My bedroom suite came with me. It was in the last stages of cleaning that I found that old picture album.

It took a bit of work but my baby picture now says on the back. Mary-ann age two.

And you know something I really am. Mary-ann Alison(after my mother) Parker. Medically and legally female. And I have never been happier.

Another blurb story that kept me awake for two nights. I blame Dorothy's girlie germs totes for this one.

Be kind and comment. Thanks.