Angel had long been fascinated by the beautiful curve of a bra strap under a blouse. When his girlfriend realizes his obsession the inevitable happens.
Author's Note
An earlier version of this story was posted in 2009. A while back my Muse decided I needed to let Angel finish telling her story. After listening to her I have revised and substantially added to her story. As a valued member of the Liar's Club, she is pretty good at telling a tale.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Well, I'll be darned. Jake managed to throw a surprise party for my 18th birthday and I didn't have a clue what he was doing. The party was great, Jake's folks don't hang around and make you feel like a criminal when he throws a party. Lots of loot, my friends have good taste, but the best one was from Mary Ann.
We've been seeing a lot of each other lately and I think she's the bomb. She's the school radical, always talking about some cause or liberating something, which is kind of funny since I never really got into that stuff - at least until I met her. Dad is starting to wonder a bit about me lately I think, he's pretty conservative.
Things were really moving at the party when we went out to sit on the backyard swing. I could feel the change in the air, the smell of warm, green things and knew the weather is finally getting better. It was nice to sit and talk with her, it was even better when she let me slip my hand under her blouse.
Now that's what I call a present! I've stared at her breasts quite a bit, at least when she wasn't looking; they are fascinating. I love the smooth curve of her breasts, how they move. Maybe the biology teacher is right, men love breasts because it aids the continuation of the species. Maybe Dad is right and God put them there for His own good reasons. I really don't care because I couldn't believe how sassy her tits felt under her bra.
I don't know what they make those things out of but my hand slid over it awful easy. Since no one is going to read this I can say that it was the first time I had gotten that far with a girl. I really liked how they bounced in my hand, how warm and heavy they felt under her bra when I played with them.
I guess she liked it too, because she sighed a lot. I liked running my finger along her bra cup, teasing her and trying to get inside, but she wouldn't let my finger in too far and she wouldn't let me unhook the thing. That's one of the great things about Mary Ann. She knows her mind and isn't afraid to tell you what she thinks, but sometimes a guy could wish for someone a little less strong in her opinions.
Friday, May 10
Jeez - a whole week and I haven't been able to see Mary Ann except between classes at school. I keep dreaming about her, remembering the feel of her bra, so soft under my fingers. So sexy. I'm not sure if I want to touch her bra or her more, I can't wait to feel it again but she's gone for the weekend. Darn!
Sunday, May 12
She's home early! She called when her folks dropped her off and gone out to do some errands, could I come over? Her folks are as liberal as she is, no surprise. My dad would turn green at the thought of me having a girl in the house with me without a chaperone. I was dying to get my hands on her but I don't want to come on as a clod. We talked and cuddled until I had a brilliant idea and offered to rub her back. I really wanted to rub her front but I'm not dumb enough to say that right out.
She lay on the living room couch I brushed her long hair out of the way. She's very slim and the tight blouse let me see her the outline of her bra as she lay there. I started on her shoulders, gently squeezing.
I carefully worked my way down her back, her body so darn warm under my hands. I could feel her bra straps under my fingers as I pressed, resisting my fingers ever so slightly. I finally reached the band of her bra and worked my fingers along its outline. Each time I pressed near them the bra straps showed right through her blouse and I got very turned on. I guess I'm glad she had her face in the couch so I didn't embarrass myself with a hard on right then.
I could feel the little rings that attached the straps as I kneaded her back, then the hooks that kept her bra together. I took a chance and offered to unsnap them so I could give her a better rub, but it didn't work. I worked my way down to her ass and started to rub there. Her dress moved freely under my hands as it slid over her panties. I had gotten her skirt up far enough to see she had red panties and had just started to slide my fingers over the nylon that covered her ass when we heard her parent's car in the driveway. Damn!
Wednesday, May 15
Does anyone really believe we were studying together? When I told Josh she was coming over to study he figured I was in for a biology lesson even though we had a math test the next day. Heck, I just wish he was right, there's too darn much about that kind of biology I don't know. I was disappointed because she wore a sweater and pants, I couldn't see a trace of her bra or get at her panties.
I have to say the sweater clung to her tits very nicely and I got a quick feel of her boobs, but we were in the den and I wasn't going to do anything that would get Mom and Dad excited. She did let me have a look at her bra after I felt her up. Black and sexy. I'm going to dream about it all night!
Thursday, May 16
I've been spending as much time at Mary Ann's place as I can get away with. Her parents seem to like me and trust us to behave. Her mother was really shocked that I had no idea how to cook when she asked us for some help with dinner. At my house, cooking is a woman's job and no male should be in the kitchen unless he is filling his plate.
That attitude just doesn't play in Mary Ann's house. In fact, her mother seems to be determined to teach me how to cook before Mary Ann leaves for her summer internship. I think that's a great idea, but I did ask that no one tell my dad about it. I get enough grief as it is.
If this keeps up, I'm bound to develop into a full-fledged heretic, at least as far as my Dad is concerned. At least I might be able to feed myself by the time I get tossed out of the house.
Saturday, May 18
Mary Ann was babysitting for her Aunt Allison and invited me over. Her Aunt is cool; she just told us not to get caught when she and her husband left. Baby Emily is only six months old so there wasn't much to do but watch TV and make out. We had hours to ourselves and we explored each other joyfully. It didn't take much to convince her to take off her blouse and I got to actually see her bra up close for the first time!
Do girls always wear such sexy bras or was she planning this? She had on a very fancy one with wires that pushed her pretty tits up and swirls of lace on the cups that showed through her blouse when she moved the right way.
She was delicious and I couldn't keep my hands off her. She couldn't keep her hands off of me, either. This time I got my hands inside the cups of her bra and I felt her nipples under me as the soft, clinging fabric pressed my hands into her breasts. It was pretty tight, so I slid the straps down over her shoulders. She shivered when I did that, and I shivered right along with her. I am becoming obsessed with her bra, how it feels and how it looks.
I asked her what it was like to wear a bra but she said it was really nothing special. Didn't it feel good? Well, her breasts would ache if she didn't wear it long enough but it was just nothing special to her. I guess I looked disappointed because she kissed me and told me that wearing a bra was a lot more fun when I had my hands on it.
We undressed each other and sat there and necked in just our underwear. I wouldn't tell anyone but I was scared to try anything else. Her panties were yellow and had pretty lace on them. I love the feel of her panties almost as much as the feel of her bra. The nylon is so smooth, so soft. It sticks to my hand for a second and then I can slide my fingers over her ass, play with the tight elastic that seals off her crotch from my nervous fingers.
She laughed at me when I told her how off the hook her panties felt to touch. She stroked my prick through my briefs, telling me that they did feel a bit plain and I damn near came when she did.
I'll be damned if I see how touching Mary Ann could be wrong. Dad goes on about carnal thoughts and the road to Hell, but I did a lot more than think about it tonight. We didn't get struck by lightning or anything. Mary Ann says that the church goes on about sex so much because that's how they control the masses. I'm not so sure about that and Dad would have a kitten if he heard her say something like that. It's a good thing he wasn't around tonight!
Sunday, May 19
Well, really Monday, since it's two o'clock in the morning, the weather's too hot to sleep. I'm too hot to sleep. My mind won't shut off. I keep seeing that beautiful, graceful curve, those intricate swirls obsess my mind. I knew I was in trouble when Dad pounded on the door this morning and woke me up for church. Didn't he know I was out late? I knew, as I put on the stinking suit he makes me wear to church, that my obsession would take over this morning.
I was right, the ladies had reacted to first really warm day by abandoning their heavy winter covering and taking their lighter spring stuff from the closet. My dread increased when I saw most of the women were wearing white blouses and carrying their wraps. I closed my eyes when I could, but I had to open them to walk. I stared at the ground, mumbled when greeted, hid my shame at what was about to happen.
I tried to sit behind Mr. And Mrs. Zima, but it didn't work. Their daughter Tracy slid into the place next to them and they moved over. She was right in front of me and I was sunk. I tried to watch the minister, to listen to the choir, but my eyes kept straying. She sat in front of me with a soft, thin white blouse. She sat up straight, a model of perfect posture. From her shoulder I let my eyes slide down the alluring line that showed clearly through her blouse, following it down until it met the band of her bra in a sensual, graceful arc.
She had on one of those bras where the straps flow from the back, seamlessly merging into a sinuous curve across her back until at last it flowed into the strap on the other side. I could see the faint bumps where the tiny hooks held her bra together. Rather than marring that perfect curve they added a tempting enhancement to the whole. My consciousness receded from the world, held in the delight of her beautiful bra.
I must have been seven or eight years old when I first noticed girls wore something under their shirts that boys didn't. I was curious but I knew that my father had a way of getting upset if I asked questions about girl things. It was around then that I first realized that there were differences between girl's bodies and boy's bodies. Maybe it was someone at school displaying his macho knowledge, maybe it was something I heard on daytime TV. Mom would watch it sometimes when Dad wasn't around, but we didn't tell him that.
I noticed that Dad wore an undershirt and you could see it sometimes on his back, but Mom always had something you could see on her back but it was too small to be an undershirt. I just wondered what it was, but didn't ask. Eventually, I saw Mom's bras hanging up to dry in the laundry room and found out what she was wearing under her shirt. It kind of made sense then as it obviously was made to go over her breasts.
I snickered at the thought of breasts. Even at that young age I had heard Dad go on about shameful women who flaunt their breasts. I had no idea what flaunt meant but it was obviously bad since he was upset about it. I figured Mom didn't flaunt her breasts since he didn't yell at her. Maybe that thing was what kept her from flaunting?
When I got a little older I looked up the word in the dictionary at school. Then it made sense when I compared Mom to some of the women on daytime TV. Mom's shirts always had collars near her neck, you never saw any part of her breasts. I still couldn't figure out just why Dad got so excited about flaunting breasts if you could do it on TV and everything.
Actually, it was a lot easier to see that thing from the back, that thing I finally learned was called a bra. I thought it was a funny word. Did zebras have bras? Could you make a bra for a jaw? Did squaws wear bras?
Hey - I was a little kid. Such things are amusing at that age.
I guess they're still amusing at my age, but for different reasons. Looking at Tracy sitting in front of me, I wanted to reach out and touch her bra. I wanted to draw my finger along that perfect arc, to revel in the beauty of her brassiere. I imagined the way the slightly puckered elastic curved upwards under her arms to cover her breasts. I could see the lace so clearly even with my eyes on her back.
I wanted to reach out and cup my hands around that lace, to feel it once again. I let my mind wander and watched her undress for me. She took off her bra and flung it high in the air, where it gently floated down to land on my body, the straps magically sliding over my outstretched arms. I felt her reach around me and snap the hooks behind my back as she whispered "You love my bra, don't you? I want you to wear it and think of me."
The organ sounded and I realized I had daydreamed through Reverend Tally's sermon and the entire service. Just what had I been thinking? Where did that little scene come from? Am I going crazy? I just don't know!
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
I couldn't stand it. I have been dreaming about Mary Ann's bra every night since Sunday. I just couldn't get the fantasy of wearing her bra out of my mind no matter how I tried. Tonight I dug through the hamper and found one of Mom's bras. It isn't anywhere near as sexy as Mary Ann's, in fact it's just plain plain! I made damn sure no one was around and took it back to my room and tried it on. Well, I tried to try it on - How do girls snap these things behind their backs? I sure couldn't do it!
I finally turned it around and snapped it on my belly and then wiggled my arms into the straps. It's too loose, Mom is bigger than me, but I like it anyway. I'm wearing it right now, while I write. If anyone found out I guess there would be hell to pay, but no one's going to find out. I'll put it back in the morning and no one will know.
I know I should be feeling guilty but I'm not. I suppose Dad would tell me I was eternally damned for doing this but it feels good! Well, he did name me Angel, didn't he? He keeps telling me Angel is a boy's name, Angelica is the girl's version. My name is supposed to be a way of praising God, but mostly it gets me in a lot of fights at school. Maybe God likes a good fight now and then, but I really have to wonder.
Actually, I have been wondering about God in general. The things Dad says and the things I learn in church just don't seem to match up with the rest of the world. Hanging out with Mary Ann's family, I've seen how they question what they hear on the news, how they demand proof of the things they are being told. I suspect that if Dad knew how they think I would be locked in my bedroom and never see Mary Ann again.
The way they think about things is starting to make sense to me. I do have questions about all the things I have been taught about God, but I've learned not to bring them up around Dad or the people in the church. You just don't question the Bible.
The thing is, I've learned that there is no such thing as the bible, there are bunches of different translations and interpretations of that book - who is going to say which is the right one?
Asking questions sure is a lot harder than just accepting what you're told.
Thursday, May 23
Well, I guess it's pretty obvious Mary Ann and I are an 'item'. Heck, we have been spending most of our time together and when we aren't together we talk on the phone enough to get Dad grumpy. Is this love? I don't know but I feel wonderful when we're together. Her family wants me to come over tomorrow night for dinner.
I'm going to meet her grandfather. Jeez - you'd think we were getting engaged or something, meeting the family! Well, anything that lets me spend time with her is OK by me, but I wish we could be alone!
Well, it's late - time for bed as soon as I swipe Mom's bra from the hamper. I really liked the feeling of waking up wearing it last night! Maybe I better take psychology when I'm in college next fall. I think I need to know more about obsessions - from an outside point of view!
Friday, May 24
I had dinner with Mary Ann's family tonight. Her grandfather is something else, a genuine Radical and not ashamed to let the world know about it. I guess I was expecting a little old man with gray hair, but he didn't show up. Her grandfather wasn't little and he sure didn't look old to me. It could have been deadly, but Mr. Wilson was a pretty cool guy. In fact, he didn't remain Mr. Wilson very long, by the end of dinner I was calling him Grandpa along with everyone else and he seemed pleased.
He is a natural storyteller, a good thing in a librarian I guess, and I almost forgot that Mary Ann was sitting next to me listening to him. Well, when I put my arm around her while we were sitting on the couch I became very aware of her body next to mine and lost the thread of what Grandpa was saying. Nobody said a thing and Mary Ann just snuggled closer. Nice, very nice!
Saturday, May 25
Hung out with Mary Ann at her place. Surprise! Like I'd be anywhere else. Nothing special, just chillin'. We went out to lunch with Grandpa and studied a little, not too long left before finals. I helped her with the laundry. Who would ever have thought I'd like doing laundry?
She stuffed a basket full of clothes into my hands and I got to carry it to the cellar. She dumped them all out on the table down there and started sorting them. When she handed me a bra and told me to put it in the this special bag I just about lost it.
I think she's figured out how much I like her bras because she insisted I take each one and put it in the bag so the straps wouldn't get tangled with the rest of the laundry. One at a time, along with her pantyhose. Her panties just went in by themselves. If she hadn't figured it out before I think my reaction would have told her all she needed to know.
I tried to make some wisecracks but she just nibbled my ear and whispered "You love it and we both know it!" She was right. I even got to hang out her bras to dry, but the best part was when the last load was done she stuffed one of her panties into my pocket and whispered "You can wear these tonight and think of me!"
Yeah, she knows.
That night, after dinner was over and I was helping Mary Ann with the dishes. (Laundry - now dishes - amazing!) Grandpa wandered in and asked Mary Ann if she was still planning to come visit him this summer. I must have been pretty easy to read when I realized she would be gone and the next thing I knew he had invited me along, too.
I accepted, but just how am I going to convince my folks to let me go off on vacation with my girlfriend? They weren't born yesterday!
His answer: conspiracy! His eyes lit up and he swore us to secrecy. We were firmly told that if he couldn't convince my parents he could keep us chaste and pure then he would resign as president of the Liars Club.
I told him that as a good Christian I would have no trouble remaining chaste and pure around Mary Ann, which got me a smile from her and an invitation to join the Liars Club from him.
So that's how Mom and Dad ended up being invited to dinner with Mary Ann's family after church tomorrow. Our church - Mary Ann's family isn't much for 'organized religion'.
This is getting too weird. I mean, here I am wearing her panties and my mom's bra writing about how to convince my folks to let me go away for the summer with her. Darn good thing Mom and Dad aren't too swift with the computer. I don't think they could get past the encryption and I'd hate to have them read this. Oh, well, time for bed.
Monday, May 27
I spent the afternoon at Mary Ann's house helping to prepare the Memorial Day dinner that my folks were going to share. I don't know how much help I really was because I'm still so new in the kitchen, but I did my best. I peeled potatoes and chopped vegetables, all without adding any of my blood to the meal. I count that a victory.
Grandpa's performance was a thing of beauty to watch, the way he set the whole thing up. I sure pity Mary Ann's dad, he probably couldn't have fooled his father about anything when he was growing up, Grandpa is one sneaky dude. The radical I had met the day before was not in attendance, instead he sent an affable old gentleman who put my parents at ease.
All through dinner Grandpa peppered the conversation with all the educational and uplifting things that were available where he lived. He expounded on the virtues of travel in broadening the mind while he finished off his second portion of roast beef and even threw in some religious references. For a radical heathen he sure knew the Bible and over dessert he told us all about the internship at the library and how it pertained to historical research. That was my cue to jump in, after all I was going to study history at college next fall.
He did it! Grandpa must have become Liar-in-Chief by unanimous acclaim. I think Mary Ann was even more scared than I was of what my folks would say. To tell the truth I had about decided there wasn't a chance! We just kept our mouths shut, like Grandpa had told us to last night, and let him talk.
By the time the second cup of coffee had become a warm memory I was invited to spend the summer with him with the blessing of both sets of parents. Unbelievable!
Wednesday, May 29
We really are studying. Sometimes it's frustrating to be so close to Mary Ann without being able to do more than give her a quick kiss, but exams start next week and we both have papers due. We don't want to blow it and not graduate. Sleeping in her panties is driving me crazy and keeping me sane at the same time, I wish she were here with me.
Saturday, June 1
Babysitting again! I think Aunt Allison is heading a conspiracy to let us have time alone together. I thought relatives were supposed to protect the innocent woman from us horny men. Perhaps that means no one thinks Mary Ann is innocent so she doesn't need protecting.
We played with the baby for a while until he went to sleep - that was fun. She smiles pretty good when I tickle her chin. There's a down side to everything, though. I was holding her when she got this intense look of concentration and suddenly she stunk like blazes.
Sensitive New Age Guy that I pretend to be (I can hear Dad choking in the background) I offered to change the baby. I won't describe the experience other than to say I think I want to adopt mine when they're toilet trained.
She settled right down and went to sleep a few minutes later. When I got back Mary Ann was lying on the couch. She smiled and asked "You feel up to changing my diaper, Angel?"
I did my best. It's a lot easier to undress a girl who wants to help than it is a crying baby. I took off her jeans and panties, then stood up and did a strip for her. I was wearing her panties and she laughed when she saw them on me. We were pretty awkward but it sure was fun. This was the first time we had seen each other naked, and she looked fine to me. She let me take off her bra and I was so excited about her I didn't even think about my obsession once.
She told me she was on the pill, but just to be sure we used a rubber, too. The church be damned, I knew we would be making love sometime soon and I knew it wasn't wrong! I love Mary Ann but there is no way we are ready to have a baby. I guess the first time is always awkward, but I felt like a real clod when I came after about two strokes. She didn't seem to mind and she showed me how to rub her just right so I know she came too. We just need to practice, that's all.
I'm pretty sure I love her, and not just because we had sex. I love her when she's not with me, just thinking of her makes me smile. We talked about the word 'Love' in English class once, it must be the most confusing word in the language. How can I be sure? Something like this has never happened to me before!
We were both pretty mellow after finally making love, there was none of the urgency we usually feel when we find time to be alone, just a wonderful glow as we held each other. When we were getting dressed she picked up her bra but, instead of putting it on, she wrapped it around me.
"You really like my bras, don't you. Want to try it on?"
Of course I did, but I was embarrassed and couldn't say anything. She wrapped it around me and tugged on the band but it just wouldn't fit, I was too big.
I told her all about my obsession with bras and panties, told her about my dream and how I had started sleeping in my mother's bras. The funny thing is I wasn't scared to tell her, I somehow knew she would listen to me and not get upset. I must be the luckiest guy on earth to have found Mary Ann because she just got curious. I tried to explain, but I really couldn't. I just don't know why I feel this way.
My parents would be horrified. I should be horrified - and praying for forgiveness. At least that's what I was taught, but I just don't feel sinful for wearing panties or having sex with Mary Ann.
"Just don't tell her I did this, OK?"
She grabbed my hand and took me to her Aunt's bedroom. Yeah, as if I was going to tell anyone except Mary Ann I wanted to wear a bra. She carefully dug through the drawers until she found what she wanted and told me to hold out my hands. I did and she before I knew it I was wearing a bra.
"You can wear it until they get back. I'll keep them busy while you put it away. I think it's awful sweet to think you like girl things even when I know you like girls, too."
She was as good as her word, I got to snuggle with her wearing her aunt's bra until they came home. I guess my conscience must have gone on strike or something, I don't feel guilty about anything we did tonight. I still think God is a part of my life, but he just can't be so petty to condemn us for showing our love or enjoying our bodies.
Or me wearing a bra.
Wednesday, June 12
A red letter day. Mary Ann's mother had me make the entire dinner tonight. Pork chops with fennel, green beans, stuffing (we cheated - it came out of a box) and home-made gravy. Ice cream for dessert - you just can't screw up ice cream.
I just wish I could tell my Mom, but that would cause too many problems if Dad found out. Mom can't keep secrets from him too well. I suppose not having secrets between a husband and wife is generally a good thing, but I have to wonder…
I really can't see just why cooking has to be a woman's job. Makes no sense to me. Then again, wanting to wear a bra doesn't make much sense, either.
Thursday, June 14
It's been a while. I just haven't had time to write with finals and all, but they're done and I'm free! I think I did very well on the tests, well all except the math, but I'll find out when the report card comes. Saturday is graduation and then Sunday we leave for Grandpa's place.
I'm gonna sleep until they drag my sorry butt out of bed for the ceremony! Oops, if mom sees the panties on my sorry butt she is gonna have a few questions, I better wake up a bit early on Saturday!
Saturday, June 15
I are graduated, I got the piece of paper. Do you have any idea how boring it is to sit and listen to a few hundred names just so you can walk across the stage and get your diploma? The only part about it I liked was getting to wear a dress for a while. Too bad I couldn't wear a bra, too! Mom cried, dad shook my hand, Mary Ann's grandfather was almost as proud as my real grandparents. I got hugged and pummeled and congratulated to death!
I'm all packed and ready; party time tonight and then off to the big city with Mary Ann and Grandpa!
Sunday, June 16
What a day! Mary Ann is showering and I have a few minutes by myself to write. I feel like Alice after she fell through the looking glass, things are getting curiouser and curiouser indeed!
No church this morning, I suppose God can live without me for one Sunday. Not that I mind church so much, but since Grandpa was picking us up at 10:30 this morning I had an excuse that Dad would accept to sleep in. Everything was packed and ready, all I had to do was get up and find my way to Grandpa's car.
This wasn't as easy as it sounds because I was up awful late last night. The word 'graduation' is usually followed by 'party', at least among my friends, and we had a hell of a party. Make that 'heck' since it was at our house, Dad doesn't like swearing too much.
What a relief to have school over, I hadn't realized how wound up I was until we started to relax at the party. Mom & Dad stayed mostly upstairs with the adults except for the occasional Purity Patrol. Not that they had too much to worry about, Mary Ann and I aren't stupid! We did sneak off for a few minutes to exchange gifts, the kind you didn't want to open in a room full of your friends. I had gotten her a pretty red bra and panty set for graduation. OK, I admit it was for me to see as much as for her to wear - but it's the thought that counts, right? The funny part was that she had bought me a bra and panty set, too.
Red, because she knows red is my favorite color. It was beautiful. The was curly, sexy lace all along the edge of the cups, swirls and swirls and scallops to delight the eye and the fingers. The bottom of the cups was smooth and sexy and between the cups was a little bow. I don't know why but I kind of liked it. The band was very thin, only two hooks, and there was a piece of wire under each cup, something I had never seen before.
"It's an underwire bra, silly. Helps keep your tits up so the boys start to drool!"
Oh - I just had to laugh, I must be the only guy in my class to get a bra for graduation! I wore it to bed last night, even though I didn't have much time to sleep.
So anyway, I was up and I just plain didn't want to take my bra off. Since Dad was making me wear a suit to 'show respect to my elders' I figured no one was going to be able to tell if I were wearing it. Well, maybe Mary Ann because she might get close enough to feel it, but since she gave it to me…
We were in Grandpa's car by 10:30 in the morning. We immediately fell asleep in the back seat and didn't wake up until Grandpa pulled over at a diner for lunch. By the time we finished eating we were awake enough to talk, even though Grandpa did most of the talking.
We listened to a few stories and then, out of the blue, came the question we weren't expecting. I know this is a diary, but it just sounds so flat to keep saying 'he said' and 'she said' all the time. As near as I can remember the conversation went like this:
"You two sleeping together?"
"Grandpa!"
"Don't 'Grandpa!' me, young lady! The way you two hang all over each other I figure if you aren't sleeping together it's only because you haven't found the opportunity. You can have the opportunity when you're living with me if you want. So, one bedroom or two? And your sleeping habits are no one else's business as far as I'm concerned."
"We only need one bed, Grandpa."
"I thought so, child. Angel, you don't strike me as the kind of boy who would turn down someone as cute as my granddaughter."
"Urgh." I think that's what I said, anyway.
"Now son, I don't want you to get mad at me, but your father strikes me as a bit of a Bible Thumper. Not that I have any objection to what he believes, mind you, but some born again types have some funny ideas about sex and babies. Are you making sure I'm not going to become a great-grandfather before you two are ready to take care of a child?"
Where did the nice old guy with the funny stories go? There was more to Grandpa than I had realized. Anyway, back to the conversation.
"I used a rubber and Mary Ann is on the pill."
"I know she is, son, but a prudent man doesn't leave contraception to the woman. For that matter, with Aids these days a prudent man uses a rubber no matter what. Mary Ann, you picked a good'un - don't let him get away! Tomorrow you give Planned Parenthood a call so you both know for damn sure you test negative and let them make sure you don't get pregnant. I don't care what your school or your folks taught you, it doesn't hurt to hear it again and be sure you have it right."
Whew! I was glad that traffic was picking up and that particular conversation pretty much ended there. I thought I had passed the worst when Mary Ann snuggled closer and whispered in my ear.
"Angel? Are you wearing a bra?"
I think I blushed. Hell, I'm sure I did even if I couldn't see my face in a mirror. I just nodded and didn't say anything that Grandpa could hear."
"You're awful cute, you know."
I am? For wearing a bra and a suit at the same time?
"I am?" I whispered back.
I guess I put a little too much into my whisper because Mary Ann started to giggle and stuck her tongue in my ear.
"Hey! No hankie-pankie in the back seat. Wait until you get into your own bed, you two!" scolded Grandpa.
"Don't be a dirty old man, Gramps. I was just nibbling his ear. Besides, I don't even have a hankie and I haven't got a clue what a pankie is."
"What do they teach you in schools these days?" replied Grandpa. "Hankie-pankie is what we used to call foreplay."
He didn't really say that, did he?
"Jeez - we may be in the back seat, but we aren't parked on Lover's Lane. I'm not messing around with Angel while you're watching, you dirty old man."
"Child, when a woman giggles like that in the back seat of a car there is only one conclusion that can be drawn."
"Are we there yet, Grandpa?" I asked.
"Impatient little bugger, aren't you?"
You're the one that said we can share a bed."
"Hoist on my own petard."
"Say what?"
"Another old phrase. A petard is a small bomb from back in the olden days. If you screwed up with your petard you were quickly hoisted and probably came down in several pieces. Actually, the word comes from the French for fart, which gives it a whole new shade of meaning."
"Angel, never ask a librarian a question like that or you'll get more answer than you want."
At least Mary Ann was distracted from asking about me wearing a bra.
Grandpa had a nice place in an quiet part of the city, lots of trees and a nice yard. He took us up to the spare room and bowed to us.
"Your humble abode for the summer, children. Settle in and we'll see what comes next."
What came next was taking off the stupid suit and showing Mary Ann the bra she gave me. She started giggling again, but at least Grandpa wasn't there to hear her this time.
We are now officially 'living in sin'. Sounds pretty stupid, doesn't it? So here I am, catching up on the diary while Mary Ann showers. I'm nervous as hell, what will she think of me when we're in bed together? Should I tell her I love her? What will she think of that?
Mom says I snore, is she going to hate me for that? For that matter, how am I going to sleep with her next to me all night? I've been scheming for so long to get her into bed with me that I never really thought about what to do if it happened. I guess I'll know in a few minutes, the water just shut off.
Monday, June 17
Spent the day being tourists with Grandpa. I rode the subway for the first time, rode a ferry, saw the science Museum and generally played the hick in the city. Grandpa knows the city inside out, the historian in me enjoyed his tales of what happened at each famous (or not so famous) site. He even showed us the library where we would be working ("It's more fun to come by here now I'm semi-retired!"). That evening at dinner he expounded the rules of the house.
1) Keep the kitchen clean, wash up right away after the meal.
2) The cook doesn't do the dishes
3) Keep the common areas of the house clean
4) Your bedroom is your castle, keep it as messy as you want
4) No laundry service, do your own.
5) Friends are always welcome in the house, you don't have to ask
6) Women who wear sexy nightgowns should put on a robe when they leave the bedroom so no one gets embarrassed
7) If it ain't forbidden, do it!
I didn't have any problem with the rules, but I did warn Grandpa I wasn't much of a cook.
"Now I could have sworn I saw you in the kitchen on Labor day. Looked like you were cooking to me."
"And didn't I warn you not to say anything to Angel's parents?" asked Mary Ann.
"Well, so you did. Let me guess - Women cook and men don't, right?"
"I told you he wasn't getting senile, Angel."
"Hey! Leave me out of this, lover. Her mother has been teaching me, but I'm still a novice."
"Well, then Eve and I will have to continue your lessons. A man should be able to cook, clean, sew as well as mow the lawn and throw a football."
Then Mary Ann threw in the kicker. "Grandpa, Angel likes to wear nightgowns too. Does the nightgown rule apply to him?"
She had given me a nightgown last night. We made love as soon as she had come back from the shower. It was better this time, maybe because we were more relaxed and knew we wouldn't be interrupted.
I can now see why sex gets some people all worked up, it sure is a powerful experience! Afterward she had given me a pretty blue nightgown that matched hers.
I didn't know what to think, but I put it on and it was wonderful. I took it off and put on my pajamas when I had to use the bathroom, but I put it back on as soon as I returned. Mary Ann giggled at me but hugged me as soon as I was back in bed. I didn't get much sleep, but I really like having Mary Ann next to me even if she keeps me awake just by being there.
I really wasn't sure I wanted Grandpa to know. Hell, I was sure that I didn't want Grandpa to know I liked such things but my darling wasn't going to give me choice. It was the first time I had seen Grandpa at a loss for words and I could sympathize, I was speechless myself.
"Mary Ann, are you trying to get an old man's goat?"
"You're not an old man, Grandpa."
"Don't change the subject. Angel, is she pulling my leg or do you really wear nightgowns?"
I admitted I did.
"Well, you live and learn. Librarians these days get to know something about crossdressing but I never thought it would get personal. Son, would you really be comfortable with me seeing you in a nightgown?"
"I don't think so, sir." Stress makes you revert to old habits, like calling people sir.
"Don't 'sir' me, son, I'm too young for that!"
"Yes, sir!" Oops.
"Smart Alec. Why do I get the feeling my granddaughter is manipulating the both of us?"
He cut off Mary Ann's reply with a wave of his hand. "I'm just trying to picture you in a nightgown. Somehow the brush cut doesn't fit the image."
"Oh, we'll have to find him a wig, won't we, Grandpa?"
"Leave me out of this, child. You two can play dress up without my help. Let's say the robe rule applies to anyone wearing nightclothes that are thin enough to see through, regardless of sex. Gender equality shall apply throughout the household.
"Son, if you don't mind seeing an old fart grin at you once in a while this old fart will try not to make you feel uncomfortable no matter what you're wearing. Just let me clue Eve in so she doesn't get a shock. She'll be back from San Francisco tonight."
Now you would think that a girl who had just asked her grandpa if her boyfriend could wear a nightgown wouldn't be shocked by anything, but I guess knowing her Grandpa was living in sin was a lot more difficult to handle than living in sin with me.
"Child, your grandmother has been dead for quite a few years. I'm not about to give up companionship or sex, you know. You'll like Eve, child, she's good folks or she wouldn't be living with me or sharing my bed. Now, enough talk, the rules still apply and since I cooked you two get to clean up."
Tuesday, June 20
Well, we did get to meet Eve, but since it was after midnight when she got there we didn't talk too much. We stayed dressed, knowing she was coming. I, for one, missed laying in bed in my nightgown and playing with Mary Ann's leg as we read. Well, I did play with her leg (and other things) but it isn't the same through a pair of slacks. We made up for the waiting after we went to bed. Can it only be a few weeks since we discovered sex? It's getting better each time.
We got to know Eve a little better this morning. The smell of coffee and bacon awoke us and we found her in the kitchen with Grandpa. Mary Ann and I were overdressed for the occasion since we had put our clothes on, Grandpa and Eve were still in their robes. Grandpa was expertly flipping pancakes and Eve was reading the paper at the table.
Eve looks a lot more like a grandmother than Grandpa does a grandfather. She has short, curly silver hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a kindly manner. Just about what you'd expect. What you wouldn't expect is that she could trade clothes with Mary Ann and neither one would look out of place. Not your ordinary widow lady, but then Grandpa wouldn't be seeing an ordinary woman. One more thing - she's a charter member of the Liar's Club and Grandpa has his work cut out to keep up with her.
Mary Ann and I didn't say much, we just listened in awe as the two of them bantered back and forth. We volunteered to do the dishes when they left, and spent the day just relaxing and taking it easy. We needed that after the graduation weekend and our whirlwind tour of the city.
`Wednesday, June 19
I consorted with the Devil this afternoon. That's the way Dad puts it when he talks about Planned Parenthood. If Satan was present I didn't get to meet him and damn me if I could find any little devils in the building. The more I get to see of the world the more I wonder just how much of what I have been taught is true. It all sounds so real when Dad talks about it, but every time I come across what he would call 'sin' or 'temptation' I get a little less sure of just what is going on.
I think Mary Ann was more nervous than I was. Funny, she's the one who is so open about sex while I still have the occasional pang of guilt. They were very nice people and I learned that I didn't know as much as I thought I did about contraception. No, make that sex in general. Well, it's not a topic that was discussed in my family.
The new quick aids test told us we were not infected, not that there was any chance of that since neither of us has had sex with anyone else. Still, it's good to know. We came home with several books and pamphlets that made interesting bedtime reading.
Mary Ann threw the rubbers in the trash before we went to bed. She's not one to put off things until tomorrow
Thursday, June 20
Well, it had to happen sometime. I had to pee, I mean like I really had to pee. The last few days I had been putting it off as long as I could. I didn't want to take off my nightgown in order to reach the bathroom; I still didn't want Grandpa or Eve to see me wearing it. Besides, I didn't bring a robe but Mary Ann's is OK, just that it's frilly as all get out. She thinks it's funny, she pokes me in the belly and torments me when I have a full bladder.
So when I couldn't wait any longer I wrapped myself into her robe and tied the belt. Well, the robe did show off my tits, or the washcloths that I was using for tits, rather nicely. Really phat, at least as long as didn't look above the neck, that is. So anyway, I listened at the door and, when I heard nothing I quickstepped out in the hall to the bathroom. The only problem was just as I was passing their door it opened and I ran full tilt into Eve.
"Angel, I didn't know you cared!"
Her arms were wrapped tightly around me as we struggled to keep standing. I know I had to be red from head to toe from embarrassment because once we were steady Eve held me at arm's length and gave me a thorough inspection.
"That robe is awfully fancy for you. Don't you have one of your own?"
I admitted I didn't.
"We'll have to do something about that.
"Eve - I gotta - I mean I need the bathroom. Now!"
"Oh. So go and pee. I'll see you in the morning"
I did. Whew, it was such a relief I almost forgot to be uncomfortable about wearing a nightgown around an almost stranger.
Friday, June 21
A very strange day, that it was. We had breakfast with Eve and Grandpa and you can bet I was dressed in all boy clothes. Conversation was a bit strained, I was still worried about what happened the night before. Finally Eve decided it was time to quit talking in circles.
"Angel, I hope you don't mind if I say you have very good taste in nightgowns."
I just stared at her.
"OK you two, let's get this out in the open" That was Grandpa. "I'm not going to dance around the issue. Do you just like to wear nightgowns or are you a full fledged crossdresser?"
It seemed odd to hear him call me a crossdresser because that's not how I thought of myself. To tell the truth I haven't been thinking too much about why I like bras and panties so much. This all just sort of happened, I didn't plan it and I sure didn't plan for anyone but Mary Ann to know about it.
The funny thing was while I wasn't exactly comfortable talking about it, Grandpa and Eve were the kind of people who you could be honest with. Mom and Dad would go completely bonkers if they even suspected.
I'm sure there's got to be something in the Bible against it, even if it was never covered in the Bible Studies I took. As far as I can tell Dad figures anything connected with sex is gonna send you to Hell. I guess it doesn't really matter if I go to Hell for loving Mary Ann or wearing a bra. I just wonder if the Devil would let me wear a bra there?
I stumbled and stammered and tried to explain. Mary Ann held my hand while I spoke and she seemed to know just what I wanted to say when I couldn't find the right word. When I tried to put it into words it didn't make any sense, even to me.
So Grandpa issued a challenge: since we were allegedly here to do research why not spend the day researching crossdressing and tell him all about it at dinner.
What else could we do? I plugged the laptop into his network and so did Mary Ann. So I typed 'crossdress' into Google and back came a flood of information. I had no idea there were so many other men who like women's clothes. If I'm going to Hell I will certainly have a lot of company! My favorite is Tri-ess - none of the crazy stuff there and lots of sensible information.
It figures Mary Ann found the porno sites first. I still don't believe what I saw, but we both got very horny and took a break to do something about it. By the time we had supper ready we were able to tell Grandpa and Eve something coherent about crossdressing.
"Well son, now that you know a bit about the subject, just where do you think you fit in?"
"I think I'm a heterosexual crossdresser. I like to wear the clothes but I really like being a man, too." I had some of the lingo down pat.
"Something I'm sure my granddaughter appreciates. I did a little research the other night when Mary Ann dropped her bomb on me and it doesn't surprise me. I've met a couple of crossdressers over the years, they were pretty decent people. If she appreciates your interest in the clothes then you two have a decision to make.
You're now considered adults, you're away from home, there's no one from your past around to know what you do here. The rest of the summer is yours to explore this if you so choose. Think about it tonight, there's no hurry and we'll talk about it tomorrow. Eve, since they cooked we clean - you want the dishcloth or the towel?
And so we talked about it, wandered about the net a little more, made love again and talked some more. Once I started reading about men who could live as women I knew I wanted to at least try it. Mary Ann seems to be willing to let me try it. She says I'm the cutest boy she ever met and as long as I remember I'm a boy in bed it's OK with her to wear a dress if I want to.
Somehow I hadn't even thought about wearing a dress until this afternoon, my obsession with bras and panties had been exciting enough.
Mary Ann is curled up on the bed, sound asleep while I bang away at the keyboard. I can't sleep. I remember how I looked in my fake tits just before running into Eve the other night and now I want to know what it feels like to be woman. Just how we're going to do anything about it is a mystery to me, the spending money I have isn't going to buy many clothes and the internship paid just about enough to buy lunch at the cafeteria each day. Enough worrying about tomorrow for tonight.
If anyone had told me I would be considering something like this a week ago I would have told them they were crazy. Dad says that the Lord will provide your needs if you are patient - I wonder if that extends to the need to crossdress. That passage in Deuteronomy makes me hope that God isn't as hard-assed about the rules as Dad is.
Saturday, June 22
If I thought yesterday was weird, today about doubles the weirdness. We finished breakfast (sinfully late - 10AM!) and were relaxing over coffee. Grandpa went out to tell some lies with his cronies or something - he wasn't all that clear where he was going - and we were relaxing over coffee when Eve finally asked me about the crossdressing. As I fell asleep last night my mind cleared and I knew I wanted to take the next step.
"That's what we figured you'd say, which is why Earl decided he had something else to do this morning. He figured this would be easier for a woman to do - or maybe I should say he's just chicken. Earl is a sentimental old man; he couldn't bring himself to throw out any of Sylvia's clothes when she died so they're all in the spare room. She was large for woman and some of her things might fit you.
She was right, the closet was almost full of clothing, neatly covered with plastic to protect it. Eve removed the cover and moved things around a bit.
"They may be a bit out of style but Sylvia had good taste and I'm sure you won't mind too much. I don't want to be morbid about this, but Sylvia was my best friend. Before the cancer got her it took her breasts and she lost her hair. If you look in the small box in the bottom drawer you'll find a pair of breast forms and there are several wigs in the closet. I washed everything after she died and put them away so if you feel comfortable about it they're yours.
"I can't say she would have wanted you to have them because as far as I know she never knew anyone who crossdressed, but she was a generous woman who always did her best for her friends. Maybe Earl had a premonition that the clothes would be needed, he's like that sometimes. We won't be back until suppertime so you have all day to yourselves."
A quick hug and she was gone. I just stood there, looking at Mary Ann, not quite sure what to do. I hadn't bargained for this. I couldn't help thinking of how I wrote 'the Lord will provide' last night. I don't think Dad would want to use this as an illustration in a sermon, but suddenly my unspoken prayer had been granted.
"Are you OK with this? After all she was your grandmother." I had to ask.
"I never really knew her, she died when I was pretty young. I mostly remember her from the pictures we have. It does seem a little creepy, after all she's dead. I love you, Angel. If this can make you happy then it makes me happy. Go ahead and open a box."
She loves me? Yeah, she said it. I've been thinking those words, writing them in this diary, but I haven't had the nerve to say it to her.
"I love you too, Mary Ann. I don't know why you put up with me and my weird obsessions, but thank God you do!"
"God ain't got anything to do with it, silly. Now open one of those boxes and let's see what's in them."
I'm not so sure that God isn't part of this, but I wasn't going to argue theology with her. It may sound funny, but after saying 'I Love You' out loud to her I wasn't quite as interested in looking at the boxes, but when she shoved one into my hands what choice did I have?
The first one was disappointing - socks and shorts not too different from what I always wear. The next one was hardly better, t-shirts. I was starting to wonder if I was going to find anything I wanted to wear.
I shouldn't have worried. The next box held bras and panties by the dozens. I picked up the one on top and examined it. Just a plain, white bra but it looked like it might fit. With a shrug I took off my clothes and slipped my hands through the straps invited Mary Ann to do the honors. She snapped the back and it fit! By then I was starting to get excited, I went to the dresser and sure enough there was a little box in the bottom drawer. I opened it and took out the breast forms.
They wiggled in my hands, almost as if they were alive. They were cool to the touch but warmed almost magically as I held them. I pulled open the cup of the bra I was wearing and dropped one in. A bounce or two and it settled in place, so I inserted the other one.
I couldn't believe how right it felt! Wearing a bra stuffed with washcloths had been fun, but once the breast forms were in place it was a whole new experience. Mary Ann helped adjust the straps and I could feel their tug on my shoulders. The bra stayed in place by itself, it didn't try to slide up to my chin like it did before. My balance changed just a little bit, I had to lean back ever so slightly to balance the weight on my chest, which made me feel remarkably feminine.
Mary Ann laughed delightedly as I went through all this. I had to look in the mirror, which made her laugh all the harder. I guess I did look pretty silly with a brush cut and the wrong equipment hanging between my legs.
"Try on the panties, silly woman!"
Woman? Well, I guess she had a point. The panties were pretty loose, I don't have a woman's hips. We solved that with a safety pin. She circled around me like an artist examining her creation - well, maybe there was some merit to that - and informed me I had to shave.
My legs.
I don't have much body hair, but the mirror my legs looked fuzzy enough to spoil the look of the bra and panties as much as my brush cut did. I kind of liked the idea of shaving my legs. Running my hands over Mary Ann's smooth legs was a pleasure, so why not shave mine? I started for the bathroom immediately.
"Angel, take off the clothes, you dope!"
Oh. I guess I was a little too excited. We filled the tub and I climbed in. She handed me the shaving cream and I awkwardly spread it on my leg. I used her razor (mine got used about once a week - on my face) and found it takes acrobatic talent to get at the back of your legs.
It took a lot of time, the razor kept clogging. Mary Ann assured me that once I had shaved it would be a whole lot easier to keep it up than it was to start.
We went back to the spare room and this time I picked out a prettier bra, a white one with lacy cups. I like lacy cups, they look so great through a blouse. There were even some pantyhose still in their packages, but they didn't quite make it up my legs, I must be taller than Sylvia was. I wore them anyway. The shoes were hopeless, I had to settle for my own sandals.
I was dying to look in the closet by then. A very frilly blue dress with a low neckline caught my eye. I tried it on and it felt wonderful! The skirt drifted across my shaved legs like feathers. I was in love! I was in Heaven!
Then I caught Mary Ann's look. I was in trouble! She was laughing and pointing to my chest, er… breasts. So I looked in the mirror and saw my few chest hairs and the edges of the breast forms clearly visible. My fantasies came crashing down in a moment.
"I think you need to wear something with a higher neckline, don't you?"
Spoilsport! I took off the dress and hung it up, selecting a bright red high collared blouse. This one had lots of frills at the neck and cuffs but I hadn't even gotten it out of the closet before Mary Ann vetoed it, too. I was getting frustrated!
"Look at me, darling. What am I wearing?"
"A blue blouse and a white skirt?"
"Right, Describe them to me."
"Uh - the blouse is pretty basic, light blue cotton blend, wide neckline, short sleeves, and it doesn't show enough of your pretty tits. The skirt cotton blend, too, I think. White, elastic waist, simply pleated and it shows your knees very nicely."
"Not bad for a novice woman, where did you learn about fabrics? Never mind that, what would you expect a woman to be doing in an outfit like this?"
"Shopping, visiting friends, casual stuff, right?"
"Right! Now, what would a woman be doing when she wore that blouse?"
I got the point. That was a party blouse, formal and flashy. It would look out of place anywhere else. I got my first lesson in proper dressing from Mary Ann that morning. She selected a white cotton shell and a pretty flowered skirt for me, summery and simple. I tried on the three wigs and was amazed at the difference they made. With longer hair instead of a brush cut I really did look like a girl.
I've always liked longer hair on girls, the shorter styles just seem wrong for some reason. OK, the reason is that my father felt that women should have long hair. No matter what happens, no matter how much I reject his religion or outmoded ideas, he is still a profound influence on me. I'm starting to understand that passage in the Bible about things being passed on unto the third generation. I sometimes worry just what I will pass on to our children.
After trying on the wigs, we decided I looked best in the page boy, it softened the lines of my face and I liked the feel of hair on my neck.
We moved some of the lingerie into our bedroom and packed up the boxes neatly with what I didn't use. We just hung out the rest of the day. We made lunch together, everything seemed new and special because I was wearing a skirt! The closer it came to 5 o'clock, the more nervous I became and finally I returned to the bedroom and changed back into my regular clothes.
Mary Ann didn't say anything, she understood I wasn't ready to have Grandpa see me like this. It was a beautiful day, one of the most special in my life!
Tuesday, June 25
I wore Sylvia's clothes all day today and even cooked dinner with Mary Ann while wearing them. I did chicken out and change before Grandpa and Eve got back though.
I could really get to like wearing these clothes all the time.
Wednesday, June 26
I wouldn't have believed it, but after only three days I was getting bored. Oh, not with getting dressed up - not by a long shot. Each morning when Grandpa and Eve left I rushed into the spare bedroom and put on my pretty clothes. Mary Ann is a gem, she must understand me because she gently reminds me of how a woman moves or speaks. She's teaching me how pick out matching clothes, how to use makeup (tricky stuff!) and only laughs at me once in a while.
It's the staying in the house that is getting boring. Sure we can watch TV or read or play with the computers, but I was torn. It was a beautiful day, I wanted to go out but I didn't want to take off my wonderful new clothes. Naturally Mary Ann had the answer.
"So let's go out and take a walk, silly!"
I think my name is getting changed from 'Angel' to 'Silly' for all she uses it. Just open the door and go out, right! I was scared. Dressing up was fun, more exciting than anything else except learning to love Mary Ann, but I was just plain scared to let anyone else see me this way. It took me quite a while for her talk me into it. In the end she just took the money out of my wallet, put it in a purse and handed it to me. She picked up her own purse and walked out the front door, leaving me to decide what to do in a hurry.
I went.
And I survived. How wonderful is that?
Thursday, June 27
How is it when I read stories about having beautiful shaved legs nobody mentions that a few days after shaving you have stubbly porcupine legs? I never felt Mary Ann's legs be stubbly, but when I asked she said that's because she keeps shaving them.
Duh!
I have a lot more leg than I have chin. Being a lady isn't all bubble bath and perfume, I guess.
Friday, June 28
We went shopping today. I got some panties and pantyhose that fit me properly. I enjoyed Wednesday's walk, but with the too small pantyhose I was glad to get home. We rode the bus and no one even looked at me, which is one of the advantages of being with Mary Ann. No one looks at me while she's around.
I kind of missed holding her hand on the bus, but I sure didn't want to draw attention to us. I learned about window shopping that day, we didn't buy much (no money!) but we looked at everything and I even tried on an outfit at the K-mart! I didn't get it but I was able to put on the new pantyhose and I felt a lot better walking after that.
Mary Ann introduced me to Shoe Source and I got a pair of flats that felt more comfortable than my sandals, or am I just thinking that because they are girl's shoes? I don't really care!
The other great adventure was having to pee. By the time we were ready for lunch I knew I wasn't going to make it home so I had to use the ladies room. We picked a Burger King for lunch because they have one person restrooms. I got in and out and no one noticed!
Is there a ladylike way to eat a Whopper? Next time I'll pick something smaller, I felt foolish trying to stuff that big burger in my face while acting like a lady.
Maybe that's why those two girls spent so much time looking at us. If I were in my boy clothes I might have spent a bit of time appreciating them, at least if Mary Ann wasn't around, but it was uncomfortable being stared at like that. What would I have done if they were guys? Not a thought I want to dwell on.
We were having so much fun we lost track of time. It was late when we got home and both cars were in the driveway. No chance of sneaking in and changing, but after spending the day out in public I felt pretty sure of myself. I just hoped Grandpa and Eve would be OK.
I took the door key out of my purse and opened the door. We walked into the kitchen and Mary Ann said "Hi, Grandpa!" He turned and did a double take that warmed my heart. Not often you can get the best of the president of the Liar's Club.
"I will be damned! Hey Eve, get in here!"
She entered the kitchen serenely, not at all disturbed by Grandpa's excited shout. No double take from her, just a warm hug and a kiss for the both of us.
"Earl, what's all the excitement? I'm glad Mary Ann and Angel are back but you don't have to shout."
Grandpa is lucky she isn't interested in running for President against him, he'd have some stiff competition with her poker face.
Wednesday, July 3
Nothing much to write about lately. Since last Friday night I know that Grandpa and Eve are comfortable with me dressed up so I haven't been watching the clock and changing before they get home. It feels like family, even more so than my own family. I love Mom and Dad, and even my little sister, and they love me, but there is a wonderful feeling of acceptance here. I don't have to watch myself to avoid a lecture on God's will if I do something Dad doesn't approve of.
Not that Grandpa, or Eve for that matter, is a pushover. They don't hesitate to tell you if they are upset, but they don't get upset about much. The don't hesitate to give advice, but it really is advice. Eve has been great in helping me learn to be a lady.
We were in the spare room and Eve was helping me pick out what I would wear tomorrow. Tomorrow the Liar's Club was going to have their annual 4th of July bash. They rent a boat and throw a gala dinner party on the river, then watch the fireworks.
I was very excited, this would be my first formal occasion and I wanted it to be perfect. Mary Ann had plucked my eyebrows (ouch!) and I wished I could have my ears pierced so I could wear earrings, but until I'm done with school I have to live with Dad. Can't let my hair grow long, either. I was trying on several possibilities but nothing really seemed to work for all of us. I was surprised when Grandpa knocked on the door. I quickly put on my robe and he came in.
"Can I make a suggestion?" we all chorused assent. "Perhaps we should rely on Sylvia's judgement. She had one special dress she always wore to the 4th of July dinner, claimed it enhanced her powers of fabrication. Knowing how women hate to wear the same dress to a party over and over, she must have really believed it enhanced her creativity. Considering that Angel's appearance will be the ultimate in fabrication I think it would be appropriate to wear it."
He looked through the closet and came out with a wonderful satin dress. "Go ahead and try it on, Angel."
I hesitated for a moment, I was so far into being a girl I actually was shy about taking off my robe in front of a man! Grandpa must have figured it out because he handed the dress to Mary Ann and turned around to let me put the dress on. Mary Ann helped me and I turned to the mirror.
What I saw was incredible. The young woman in the mirror wore a beautiful hunter green party dress. It had a lavishly embroidered square neckline that was high enough so I didn't have to worry about my lack of cleavage. Two lines of white embroidery ran from the shoulder straps to the waist, drawing attention to the swell of my bust. The bodice (see - I'm even learning the right names to call things) was covered by embroidered circles connected with intricate crosses, giving a rather Irish impression. The skirt was very full, with a layer of shear fabric covering the satin underneath, and extended not quite to my calves. Sylvia must have worn some pretty high heels with this one.
A short cape of the same filmy material that swirled around the skirt extended to my hips and swayed as I moved back and forth to examine myself in the mirror. I heard Grandpa sigh and when I looked he was holding Eve very tightly. There was a look on his face I have trouble describing: sadness, memory, wonder, joy. I couldn't help it, I ran to them and hugged them as tightly as I could. I suppose a real girl would have kissed him but I just couldn't do that, at least not yet.
"Thank you, Grandpa, it's beautiful! I wish I could have met Sylvia, she must have been a wonderful woman. I'll try my best to make you and her proud of me tomorrow. And thank you Eve, I can't tell you how much it means to me that you both have let me do this."
I felt Mary Ann's hand around my shoulders and she joined our circle. I hugged them all with a fervor I have never known before.
"I love you all! My own family could never understand this, I don't think I would be allowed in the house if they ever found out. God must have led me to you, because I feel more welcome in your home than I have ever felt before."
I really hated to take the dress off, but I didn't want to mess it up before the party tomorrow.
The shower just shut off, so I'm going to bed. I can hardly wait for tomorrow!
Friday July 4
Well, technically it's the 5th, but since I haven't been to bed it still feels like the 4th. I'm amped, high as a kite, and just a little bit buzzed. Somehow the Liar's Club doesn't pay much attention to the legal drinking age and I had a drink or two tonight.
I enjoyed being treated as just one of the group. Maybe Dad's training is stronger than I realized or maybe it's because the Liars don't seem to be big drinkers, but I mostly stuck to Pepsi. Mary Ann says a girl had better be careful when she's drinking if she doesn't want to wake up in a strange bed. Actually, I tried not to drink not much, period, because going to the bathroom was a major pain.
Anyway, there's no way I can sleep so I may as well write it all down. It's hard to describe the excitement of getting ready for a big party. Guys have nothing like this, or if we do I haven't heard of it up 'till now.
We started hours before the party began, taking turns in the bathroom and getting ready. It's kind of ironic that now I'm living as a girl I have to shave more often than I did when I was trying to be a guy. I still don't have more than a few hairs on my chin but I sure don't want them to show. When I got back from the bathroom, Mary Ann had laid out my lingerie for me. The black, lacy bra that had come to be my favorite, matching panties, a girdle and real stockings.
Until I had found it in Sylvia's boxes I had never heard of a girdle. Eve tells me they were outlawed by the Geneva Conventions as devices of torture, never to be used by civilized man again - and the world is a better place for it.
Well, I'll have to trust her on that but I wore it tonight because my male body didn't zig in the places the dress zagged. I got shortchanged on the hips a girl needs, so the only option was to fake them.
I suppose since my tits are silicone it's no big deal to have polyester hips. I settled my forms into the bra, rolled the stockings over my legs (what a great feeling!) and stepped into the girdle. It fit snugly around my chest but bagged a bit in the hips.
That's where Mary Ann came in. She took a bag of polyester filling and began to pad my hips ever so carefully, a little bit at a time so it wouldn't look lumpy. I had to work hard to ignore the un-girlish way having her hands under my girdle made me feel.
After a good deal of patting and prodding I had a modest figure and was feeling like I was wrapped in cotton batting. I happily chose to experiment with living life as a girl, but it does seem like a lot of work!
The work wasn't over yet - not by a long shot. Eve had promised to help do a special job with the makeup tonight, so we put on our robes and went to her room. Not even having Grandpa watching could dampen the excitement as I sat down in front of the mirror. I could follow the steps easily now, having done them myself for the last couple of weeks. Wipe clean, foundation, powder, blend, mascara, lipstick. Somehow in Eve's hands the same cosmetics I used produced an entirely different effect. I'll never be beautiful, but my face looked a lot more feminine when she was done. Magic, I guess.
"Earl, hand me the box on the night table, will you?"
He did.
"Angel honey, this is as close to a coming out party as you're likely to get, so Earl and I wanted to do something special for you." She opened the box and took out a new wig. It was almost the color of my own hair, but long enough to reach the middle of my back. She fitted it on my head and began to brush it out. What a feeling, my head gently being tugged backwards as she ran the brush through my new hair! She pulled it back into a pony tail and the fastened it with a polished wood clasp.
I looked in the mirror and was very pleased with what I saw. So was Mary Ann, who applauded Eve's expertise. She practically threw me out of the chair so she could have her turn. I sat on the bed next to Grandpa and watched as she made my beautiful love even more beautiful.
(Hi Mary Ann - I told you that you could read my diary but you're going to have to put up with how I sing your praises!)
I loved the feeling of long hair, the weight of it as I moved my head, the wonderful feeling as it slid across my back.
When we were done we went to our room and I slipped on that marvelous party dress. What was Grandma Sylvia like? I had been wearing her clothes for days now but I haven't had the nerve to ask Grandpa. Eve had talked about her a little, but she still remained a misty figure.
It may be crazy, but sometimes I think her spirit is helping me to be a proper lady. The pictures in the albums show a woman who almost always seems to be laughing. There's one of her with Mary Ann as a baby where she's simply radiating love right through the photograph. I'm really sorry I didn't get to know her, but I'm glad Grandpa found Eve.
I may be doubting much of what I was taught by the church, but they aren't wrong when they say life is a mixture of sadness and joy.
Enough philosophy! Mary Ann put on a pair of killer high heels but I stuck to flats because I'm tall enough without help. They did make her legs look very nice, though. I wrapped a green fringed shawl around my shoulders and was ready.
In the living room I came face to face with Mark Twain. Grandpa was not about to be upstaged by the ladies, and his white suit, pork pie hat and gold tipped cane certainly put him in the Major Leagues in clothing as well as storytelling. This was going to be a great night!
We arrived and boarded the boat. It was gaily decked out in red, white and blue bunting (what else?) and more lights than I could count. I felt no hesitation in walking over the gangplank and entering the glass enclosed cabin, I was completely into my role as a debutante. No little devil telling me I was sinning, nothing but the wonderful feeling of walking into a room full of people wearing a beautiful dress. Mary Ann and I were suddenly the focus of attention, being the youngest people in the place.
The Liars Club runs to older men, men for whom the word 'crony' fit perfectly, so anyone under forty would attract attention. Two young women, one of them downright beautiful, brought the proceedings to a halt.
"Dammit Earl! I can hardly wait to hear how you managed to kidnap three of the most beautiful women in the city and drag them to dinner with you, you old dog!"
"Charlie, if you don't break down and get a hearing aid, you deaf old coot, you'll never hear the story unless I shout it in your ear. I am far too dignified a man to do that, it would embarrass my grandchildren."
"Grandchildren? There are some stories too tall for even me to believe!"
I don't know what got into me then. I turned to Grandpa and planted my best kiss on him, the kind that Mary Ann taught me.
"Who is that this nasty old man, Grandpa?
"OLD!?" came his pained reply.
"That, my dear granddaughter, is Charles William Pimm, a certified curmudgeon of the first water. His meager talents barely qualified him to join our august organization, probably the examining committee had pity on his wife. She desperately needs an a few hours each week away from his notable temper. We put up with him at the meetings for her sake."
"Why Grandpa, what a sad story! Perhaps he only needs a little love to become a changed man."
With that I planted a kiss on the very surprised lips of Mr. Pimm, absently wondering if he was as aware of my breasts pressing against him as I was. Taking a step backward I felt the hem of my skirt swirl around my legs. I was hoping I hadn't damaged my makeup as I watched Mr. Pimm very closely for a few seconds.
"Nope, still a frog! Well I tried, Grandpa."
There were maybe forty people in the room and not one of them could hold back their laughter. Poor Mr. Pimm took it very well, sputtering theatrically. After that I was welcomed into the ranks as if I were a long lost sister.
At precisely at 6:00 PM the gangway was raised and we moved out on to the river. I marveled at the luxury, white table linens, sparkling goblets, splendid silver by each plate, waiters in tuxes busily seating the guests. These people really knew how to throw a party!
One of the waiters took my shawl and seated me (cool!) between Mary Ann and Eve and directly across from Mr. And Mrs. Pimm. He turned out to be a very nice man, and his wife was just as nice.
We ate a dinner like I have never had in my life. The appetizer was frog legs (from Calaveras County?), the entrée roast ox (not Babe!) with beans (fe-fi-fo-fum) and apple pie (thanks Johnny!) for dessert. By the time we were finished I was very aware of my girdle and ready to agree wholeheartedly with Eve that they could be classified as instruments of torture!
Dinner dissolved seamlessly into a round of stories as the light faded outside the cabin. Each story inspired another and I enjoyed myself hugely. The only flaw was being unable to hold Mary Ann's hand, but I managed to survive that. I did manage to sneak a kiss when we went into the ladies room together.
Trying to pee without disturbing the padding under my girdle would have made a good story if I had dared to tell it! I did get my turn when someone finished a fish story and gave me an opening to tell Utah Phillips story about shark fishing in the Great Salt Lake. Mary Ann and I have been practicing on each other all week. The hardest part is keeping my voice believable when I got to the exciting part. They all groaned at the punch line so I guess it worked.
It was easy to see how Grandpa got to be the President of the club. As the daylight was fading away he launched into an epic tale of Willie, a soldier in the Great War (That's how he put it). Willie waded through muck, mire, trenches, Germans, and Lord know what else while we tried our best to figure out what the punch line would be so we could shout it out before Grandpa finished. This is considered High Art among the Liars.
All through the story Grandpa sat puffing on his big cigar, emitting clouds of raspberry scented smoke. I found out later there was a button on the thing he pressed to make the smoke. He told me his characterization was blatantly stolen from Hal Holbrook's version of Mark Twain. "Only steal from the best!" was his motto.
I'm not sure how he did it but at just the right moment a tremendous explosion shook the boat and Willie defeated the Kaiser single-handedly. The fireworks had started!
Storytelling was abandoned as we all went outside to watch the show. It was unforgettable, watching the beautiful lights fill the sky as the wind blew through my hair. I clutched my shawl to keep it in place and felt my skirt stream in the light breeze.
The colored light highlighted Mary Ann's face, her beauty distracting me from the glow in the sky. The great booms shook the breast forms in my bra. It was like nothing I have ever felt, at that point I would have gladly become a woman forever, no questions asked, if a genie had offered me the chance. It was only the touch of Mary Ann's hand that reminded me why that would be out of order bigtime. It was dark enough we could hold hands without anyone noticing.
The show ended, as it always does, in a flurry of light and sound, and we headed for the riverbank. Mary Ann and I got the back seat of Grandpa's car and we were comfortably snuggled together on the drive home. The night had been something I would remember for the rest of my life, just about perfect if it wasn't for the one errant thought that crossed my mind. I must have sighed loud enough to be heard.
"Why the sad sigh, Angel? You looked like the happiest girl I have ever seen tonight. I think Sylvia would have appreciated your little scene with Pimm, it was her kind of humor. For a moment it was almost like having her back."
"It's been wonderful, unbelievable. I never thought I could feel so tite, it's absolutely amazing!"
"True, but you didn't answer my question." Trust Grandpa notice that.
"It's just that on Monday the internship starts and I have to go back to being a boy again. I guess it has to end sometime, but I don't want it to!"
He was silent for a moment.
"Granddaughter, have you considered that I am in charge of the internship program at the library? All they know is my granddaughter and her friend Angel will be in the program this summer. No one knows your sex, with that name of yours I would be surprised if anyone who saw it would be expecting a male to show up. It doesn't have to end if you don't want it to."
It doesn't? I guess the Lord really does provide everything you need.
Monday, July 8
I could hear the water singing in the pipes as Mary Ann took her shower. I had just gotten out of the shower myself. My body was dry but my crew cut was still a little bit damp. I stood in my bathrobe, eyes still glazed with sleep, a bra dangling from my hand.
MY bra.
A bra like I have worn every day for the past couple of weeks. The question that had haunted my dreams had to be answered now: do I put it on today? Looking back in this diary I see that it the first time I put on a dress was June 22. Can it be that short a time? I know I was a supposedly normal boy for eighteen years, so how come it feels so right to look like a girl after only sixteen days? Yes, I'm counting; this is a diary after all, so counting days is pretty easy. It's been fun playing at being a girl, but once I show up at the library I am committed for the summer; there will be no changing my mind part way through.
Things have changed so fast I was not sure what I wanted. Mary Ann gets a kick out of having me as a girlfriend, as long as I remember I'm her boyfriend in bed together. Grandpa Earl and Eve are so blessedly evenhanded they wouldn't say anything one way or the other. So the decision is all mine to make.
Yeah! Right! Just me and the ghosts in my head, like Dad getting all purple faced and righteous if he had even the slightest idea. Mom doing her 'concerned' look until you want to scream and Rev. Tally quoting some verse about how anything you do for pleasure is some kind of sin. Just me and my conscience.
That's not really fair, but it feels good to blame everyone else for a little while. Grandpa hasn't told me what to do one way or another, but he has shown me where to look and we've had some long and interesting philosophical discussions over dinner. Real discussions, with talk going in both directions, not the kind of discussion we had at home where Dad lays down the law and you had better not question what he says.
We talked about gender roles in society, feminism, classism, sexism, societal expectations, rebellion, conformity, civil disobedience, women's suffrage and who knows what else. It's not like I was lacking for information and background before I make the decision, but this is the first major decision about my life I have ever made for myself. That's scary! I knew I would have support whatever I chose, but I have to do the choosing.
I guess that means I have to grow up.
There's a Thomas Hardy quote that I found when reading about crossdressing: "It is difficult for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs." It works the other way, I can tell you!
Ever since I have been old enough to appreciate sex (which is very different from experiencing sex!) I have been fascinated with bras. I thought I was pretty weird for a long time because of it. When the other guys talked about bras it was mostly about how to get them off of the girl wearing them. Me, I wanted to touch them.
Not that I had the nerve to do it. Not until I started hanging around Mary Ann and soaking up her family's liberal ideas, that is.
I was infected and one day I just swiped one of Mom's bras from the hamper and tried it on. It didn't fit so good, but I really didn't care. Then Mary Ann and I made love together, and I ended up living away from home with her and wearing her grandmother's clothes. Sounds like that slippery slope on the road to Hell Dad always talks about.
So why does it feel like the right thing to do?
The clothes feel good all by themselves. It doesn't matter if I'm wearing something from Sylvia's closet or my own t-shirt and jeans, wearing a bra and panties is a wonderful feeling. With the wig I look like a regular girl. I have one of those faces that doesn't scream 'male' or 'female' when you look at it. Funny, up until now I wasn't too happy with that, the guys in the locker room used to give me grief about it and make gay jokes.
I used to be worried because my voice hadn't changed all that much and I didn't have a beard yet, either. I have hair on my crotch, but none on my chin. Now I worry about when it finally happens. Some people will never be satisfied.
This summer may be the only time I can find out what being a girl means from the inside.
Then there's the thrill of doing something 'wrong'. Not evil, but if I'm going to believe Dad, this is just plain wrong. Not that he'll ever know, but I'm normal enough to get a kick from defying his authority. I love Dad, but he's awful inflexible. I still can't believe Grandpa talked him into letting me stay here.
Do I need any more reasons? It feels good, I get to learn something new and interesting and get in a little dig at Dad all at the same time.
The water has gone silent, it's been off for a while as I stood here thinking. I could follow Mary Ann's footsteps as she returned to our room. The door opened and I made my choice.
"Honey, will you fasten me up, please?
I guess we all thought today was a day to dress up. Grandpa is wearing his suit and Mary Ann has on a low cut flowered dress that shows off her slim waist. Me, I decided on one of Sylvia's skirted suits. If I had Mary Ann's figure I might have chosen a dress like that, but I don't want to call attention to my less than girlish body. After wearing the girdle for the big party on the 4th I am not going to wear one for a full day of working. I'm not that stupid.
Eve, who didn't have to go anywhere, was still in her bathrobe and looking positively smug.
"My, such a professional looking breakfast crowd. I'm going to have to upgrade the menu and put in a cappuccino machine to keep up appearances. Should I change to fresh roast fair trade coffee and serve parsley with the eggs?
"I'll take mine with a rasher of bacon on the side." replied Grandpa. "Only thing those low-carb crazies got right is how important bacon is to starting the day right."
"Angel, Mary Ann, close your ears to this male chauvinist, bacon eating cannibal or we will all look like pigs ourselves. I, for one, do not intend to part with my girlish figure until I am a great-grandmother."
"Quit fishing for great-grandchildren, my love. They aren't even married yet. Although I do admit I am surprised at Angel's girlish figure. You sure about this, child?"
"I think so, Grandpa."
"Ah, such a ringing endorsement of femininity!"
"Leave him alone Grandpa, you old grump." Mary Ann spoke up in my defense. "Angel knows what she's doing."
"I do? Glad you told me because I was having doubts, but I guess it's too late to change or we'll miss the bus."
"If you don't hurry up you'll miss the bus anyway. Earl, you behave yourself and don't annoy the children."
"Yes, my love and mistress. I hear and obey."
I was nervous when we started walking up the library steps. It suddenly struck me that I was about to meet a bunch of strangers who I would be with for the next two months. I had become comfortable with walking down the street and riding the bus without anyone realizing I was not what I appeared, but it suddenly occurred to me that if I did something male and stupid I wouldn't be able to hop a bus and leave the scene of the crime. My pace slowed and I lagged behind the others.
"Cold feet, Angel?" Grandpa inquired.
"Yeah." Might as well be honest with Grandpa.
"About time, my girl. Take thirty seconds and have a good, old fashioned panic attack, then remember that a young woman in a stylish business suit comports herself with grace and confidence at all times. One…Two… Three…" he started counting. Strangely enough by the time he hit thirty I had found some inner strength and was ready to go on.
Why not? I realized that the women's suit I was wearing was far more comfortable than the heavy, stiff, suit-and-tie my Dad forced me to wear on any formal occasion. No clunky, shiny black oxfords on my feet, rather soft and supple flats that hardly weighed anything.
I could feel the breeze blowing through my stockings and over my legs below the hem of my skirt and there was no annoying, dull, dark patterned noose around my neck, just a brightly colored scarf that swayed in the breeze. I suddenly became aware of the comforting pressure of my bra around me and realized just what a privilege life had become in the past few weeks.
"Thanks, Grandpa."
"You'll do fine, child. Sylvia is watching over you and will help you do it right."
Thank God for bureaucracy! I must have been introduced to two dozen people before I was there half an hour and there wasn't a hope I could remember all the names. Fortunately some nameless administrator decreed that everyone had to wear a name badge with their picture on it, so I had a fighting chance if I could see their badge. It seemed funny to hear everybody calling Grandpa "Mr. Wilson" with such respect in their tone.
So how come my picture was so god-awful ugly I wouldn't want my best friend to see it, let alone the entire population of the city when they want to use the library. Mary Ann says I look cute, but I think I look like a deer staring into the headlights of a car that's about to run me over. Besides, my wig is a mess and I should have used some makeup! The worst thing is that I will be that way forever. The picture on Grandpa's badge still has dark hair and no mustache. So much for a positive ID.
There were papers to fill out and things to read. I filled them out and somehow missed the little check boxes where you select M or F. I really don't like lying and so far no one has noticed my "mistake" on the paperwork.
There are four interns for the summer. Besides Mary Ann and me there's Chuck and Beth. Chuck is a broad shouldered guy who looks like he just came off the beach in California. Golden tan, short blonde hair, muscle shirt and the muscles to fill it out, baggy pants and sandals. A good looking dude, even Mary Ann was giving him the once over. If Mary Ann was checking him out once, then the other intern, Beth, was doing a detailed research project.
Beth had long, pale blonde hair and a spaghetti strap top so tight that you could count the stitches on her bra, whose straps were plainly visible. From the back you could see the first couple of snaps on her bra where the top scooped too low. Funny how a couple of weeks ago I would have gone crazy staring at her bra, but now I just sort of took it in as some sort of fashion tip. She completed the outfit with a bright red mini skirt and showed enough bare leg to qualify for the Rockettes.
Talk about your major dilemmas. She was well worth looking at, but my girlfriend was standing not six inches from me and people would wonder about the woman in the nice suit if she started drooling and slavering and howling over the blond babe next to her. Maybe I hadn't really thought this girl thing through as carefully as I thought I had.
Once my inner male stopped slathering, I realized that as good as she looked she really wasn't dressed for working in the library. Neither was Chuck, for that matter. I was quietly pleased that I had opted for the professional look this morning, but a part of me wished I could pull off that sexy look sometime.
Naturally there was an orientation session, but with Grandpa leading it wasn't the kind of boring lecture I had been expecting. His enthusiasm was infectious, as he led us around the huge old building we learned where things were, met all kinds of people and heard a multitude of stories about how things came to be, where the world of libraries was headed and just what we would be doing to help. This was going to be a fun summer!
Tuesday, July 9
Well, well. Either someone had a talk with Chuck and Beth, or they realized they needed to dress more professionally. I could still see Beth's knees but there was no danger of knowing her panty color today, (She wore blue yesterday.) nor did her bra band ride above her blouse. I had no trouble seeing the outline of her red bra, her blouse was more modest but still thin, and I enjoyed walking behind her to the second floor.
I had to laugh, though. Today I had toned down the business suit and wore a white blouse and black skirt, the kind you would associate with a wrinkled old lady librarian. Grandpa called it the 'Penguin Costume', but it looks pretty good.
I still had to cart a million books around, though.
Wednesday, July 10
Who was that idiot that ended the last entry talking about how much fun this summer is going to be? He must have been insane. Well, maybe not insane, but he sure wasn't looking very far ahead. Today has been quite a revelation.
I got quite an education in gender expectations. The feminist kind, that is. Just when I was thinking I had this girl stuff down pat I learned the truth. It's one thing to take the bus and go shopping, people don't pay much attention to you when you're just one more person you're passing. Being in the library is a whole different thing. The people there expect to come up and talk to you all day long, and believe me, it's a whole lot harder to act like a girl when you have an attentive audience. It's even harder when there are hecklers in the audience.
Working in a library full of books has it's good points - all those lovely books to read and learn from. The problem is that someone has to put all those books back on the shelves. Someone like the interns. I may look like a girl but I feel like a mule. Just load up them saddle bags and trot off to unload them, the load 'em up again! My boobs keep getting in the way. Never thought of that when I made my decision.
I was shelving books when this guy comes up to me and asks "Hey Honey, where do I find books on weightlifting?"
The guy was obviously a weightlifter, he had muscles on his muscles and pecs that were big enough I wanted to loan him a bra. Any more help in the weightlifting department and all the guy would need is short blonde hair to qualify as a Greek God. He made me feel like a wimp, and I had to try extra hard to remember I was a girl as far as he was concerned.
I tried to explain where to find the book but he just didn't get it, so I took him over there. I reached up on the top shelf for an illustrated book to show him and damned if he didn't grab my ass! I darn near whacked him over the head with the book but I remained a proper lady.
"Here you are, sir. Is this the type of thing you were looking for?"
"Yeah. Thanks, sugar."
"You're welcome, sir. At least to the book. I hope you enjoy it."
I was so pissed that I just walked away, seething. Damned chauvinist bastard, how dare he?
I was still angry by break time, when I told Mary Ann about the jerk. She just laughed.
"Angel honey, get used to it. He wasn't the one who didn't get it when he asked for directions. Couldn't you see he was setting you up?"
"He was?"
"You really are an innocent. Maybe you have to grow up as a woman to realize how many jerks there out there that will treat you like that. It's a small percentage, but you still get to meet a lot of them. You need to learn to watch your ass, and your boobs too, just like any other girl does. I'll give you 10 to 1 that somebody cops a feel off you before the summer is over, right out in public between the bookshelves."
"Mary Ann!"
"Bet on it, honey. You aren't the sexiest thing on the planet, but some guy is going to think you're good enough to grab on to if he thinks he can get away with it."
I brooded about the incident for the rest of the day. I didn't say much at lunch and ended up being late for my break in the afternoon. I had been sitting there moping for a few minutes when Chuck came in. I guess it was pretty obvious I was upset, because he sat beside me and asked what was wrong.
"Nothing." How was I going to tell him?
"Sure. Angel, I've only known you a couple of days, but it's long enough to know you aren't your usual self. You seem to be pretty quiet, but today you aren't there."
"That bad, huh?"
"Well, not completely vacant, but withdrawn. What happened?"
So I told him. He was more sympathetic than Mary Ann, at least, and had the good grace to be indignant at the jerk's behavior. I felt better when I had unloaded on him and I swear he was ready to hug me when we left, but stopped himself.
Which messed me up again, because I would have appreciated that hug. The whole thing is completely screwed up! A guy pretending to be a girl who gets upset at a jerk grabbing his ass and then wants a hug from another guy to make him feel better. I'm going to bed before I go completely crazy.
Friday, July 12
My feet hurt! Mary Ann says that I'm stupid to try and compete with Beth by wearing high heels, even if I do have nice legs. I don't think I was trying to compete (that's a guy thing and I'm a girl for the duration!), but I just wanted to wear those shoes.
I wore a peasant blouse with a neckline that was just barely higher than my bra line (I wish I had some cleavage, that would be fun) and a very full skirt that swirled around my legs with every step. Mary Ann told me the high heels looked great on me, but I just didn't know how much they would hurt!
The work week's over. By the time I got home yesterday I was too pooped to write, I just cuddled up with Mary Ann and was out like a light in my clothes. Woke up about midnight with my breast form half way out of my bra cup, then tried to undress quietly and put on my nightgown without waking her, but I tripped over my pantyhose and woke her up. We were both awake, so we made love - what a great way to go back to sleep with her in my arms!
This internship stuff is no picnic, we really do work! I learned how to use the computer system at the library. These days, when someone asks for the 'Card Catalog' it means they haven't been in a library since before I was born. Did they really have to go through drawers of paper to find a book once upon a time? Scary!
I guess I've got to admit it - I need glasses. I've been kind of suspecting it for a while now, but I knew if I told my parents I would end up with a pair of thick, black, plastic frames that were ugly as sin. Since I've had sin preached to me since I was old enough to talk, I knew just how ugly they would be. Doing so much close work has made it obvious I have to do something about it.
The good part is now that I'm not living with my parents I can choose my own frames and get something I will like. I asked Grandpa where I could get an eye exam and he just took out his cell phone and called right then and there. I would dearly love to have a cell phone, but no way with my father. Too much money, too many temptations. Those things have video games on them - Satan's snares for the unwary.
Yeah, right!
Anyway, I have an eye exam tomorrow. Instant service!
I got another surprise today. When Mary Ann and I had been cruising the stores we could always find a 'one holer'. (Grandpa's term for it. He made me look up the source and you don't want to know about it, believe me!) For the first couple of days I had managed to use the accessible restroom (also a 'one holer') but my luck ran out about 10 AM this morning. I had never thought of how often women use the bathroom in groups.
I was shelving books with Jenny, the head of the fiction department, and Beth. I held out for almost an hour, but realized I was being stupid. The worst part was I didn't even have Mary Ann around for support, she was off in another department.
"I need to take a break, Jenny." I waved vaguely toward the location of the bathrooms.
"I feel the need to powder my nose myself. C'mon girls!"
Oh joy, company. I like Jenny a lot, she reminds me a lot of how Grandpa must have been when he was younger, funny and irreverent and thoroughly competent. Not too surprising since she told me that Grandpa was the one who hired her way back when. She looks like a typical Soccer Mom, which she is, her kids are just a little younger than I am.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to push open the door with a little figure in a skirt on it when you have company? Must have weighted ten tons and had rusty hinges.
In the last couple of days there had not been the slightest indication that anyone thought I was anything other than a normal girl. No odd glances, no double takes, nothing. I followed them into the ladies room and quickly closed the stall door, sat down and did my business. I was going to make a dive for the door, but I noticed in the big mirror that my wig was in need of a brushing.
So I did what should have been natural. I still worry about the wig. It's a real good one, but there's always this fear it will fall off. I sent off a little prayer (Dad would be proud), then I took the brush out of my purse and used it. Gently. Boy am I glad I didn’t have to do anything with my makeup! I'm not very good yet, which is why Mary Ann only lets me use a little bit of foundation. No mascara or stuff that might need repair.
Jenny appeared at my side and took a brush to her hair.
"Angel?"
It took me a second to realize she was talking to me. Guys don't talk in the bathrooms!
"Yes?"
"If it's not too personal, why do you wear a wig?"
She'd noticed. I blessed Grandpa for his coaching, because I had an answer ready.
"My mother tried to give me a permanent and it went terribly wrong. I had to cut it all off and let it all grow back in. Without a wig I look like a fuzzy egg."
"Well, your wig looks quite nice, but I think it would be a pain to wear wig all the time and was curious. And don't worry, it's not an obvious wig. It's just that my mother wore one for years and I know what to look for. Ready to go back and pump paper?"
"I'm going to have muscles big enough to try for Miss Universe when the summer's over."
"I bet you didn't know that half the contestants are librarians."
"I thought librarians were mousy old women with high collars and pursed lips that whispered 'Be quiet!' all the time."
"Like your Granddad?"
"That's the problem with education. It's hard to keep those nice, comforting stereotypes intact. These days it's hard to tell a librarian from a computer nerd." I replied.
"Marion the Librarian doesn't have a job any more."
"Huh?"
"Jeez, Angel!" Beth had joined us. "Haven't you ever seen The Music Man?"
"We weren't allowed to see many movies in my house. Dad thought they were a corrupting influence."
"All the more reason to watch them! I'm all for corruption, especially if he looks like Robert Preston." Beth had a faraway look in her eyes.
"Somehow," Jenny responded, "I wouldn't have pegged you as an old movie buff, Beth."
"He may be old, but I wouldn't mind sliding his trombone, if you know what I mean!" She fluttered her hands in an unmistakable illustration. Did women actually talk like this?
"He's dead, girl, but I know what you mean. They don't age when they end up on film."
"So who's this Marion?" I asked.
"The prim and proper librarian who was his love interest in the movie. She would never think of sliding his trombone, she was too pure and innocent." Jenny replied. "She probably never even got laid down in the stacks, even when she was an intern. Play your cards right, Angel, and I bet you could get a quickie from Chuck down in the stacks before the summer's over."
I must have shown how shocked I was, because Beth started laughing and pretty soon Jenny was laughing too.
Fer cryin' out loud, this was as bad as the talk in the locker room at school. I never felt too comfortable with it back then and certainly wasn't comfortable with it now. Me and Chuck? They naturally misread my objections, which I guess is a good thing.
"Better hurry up if you want to get him first, Angel, or should we work together and flip to see who gets sloppy seconds? Think you could blow his trombone after I'm done with him, girl?"
"Beth, we're shelving fiction, not writing fantasy." Jenny sounded stern but she was about a millimeter away from bursting into laughter. "There's work to be done, ladies."
"Just take the video out this weekend and you'll see what I mean." Beth said as we trooped out of the ladies room.
I really like Jenny, she's fun to work with. Everybody is, there is a good feeling at the library. Naturally we interns spend a lot of time together, especially at breaks. Chuck was waiting for me in the break room.
"You look a lot happier today, Angel." He said as he gave me quick hug. He barely touched my shoulders, but he hugged me! The funny thing was I didn't mind it, not like the jerk who grabbed my ass the day before. It was just a spontaneous gesture between friends.
OK, I liked it but I don't understand it. This whole thing just keeps getting more complicated. Actually wearing a bra is still the greatest thing that has happened to me. (Except you, Mary Ann!) I can't help but get a kick out of fooling everyone into thinking I'm a girl, but am I doing too good a job at it? It's one thing to get your butt pinched by a stranger, but having a guy you know hug you because he thinks you're a girl is just plain confusing!
Was he trying to come on to me? I don't think so but, as Mary Ann pointed out I didn't grow up a girl so I never learned to recognize the signs from this side of the gender gap. Not that I ever tried to seduce anyone, (you seduced me, snoopy Mary Ann, not the other way around) even if I thought about it. Face it, I don't have the slightest idea how to go about seducing a woman; my Dad made sure of that.
Yucch, I think I'm getting maudlin. Do girls do this sort of stuff? Am I learning to be a girl all too well? I wish I knew!
Saturday, July 13
Sometimes I think Mary Ann lives for the telephone. She's always the first one to answer, (with a formal "Wilson residence") and if no one calls her she calls someone else. Do I have to learn to have long, wandering conversations if I'm going to be a girl? Well, as long as it's Mary Ann on the other end of the phone a long, wandering conversation is just fine with me, but now that we are living together that's no longer necessary.
She's had been talking with her mother for a good hour when I heard her say "Angel loved the red bra and panty we got her for graduation, she's wearing it now. It looks very cute on her."
No doubt about it, I can still panic with the best of them. My heart must have stopped dead, then made up for it by shooting up to about 500 beats a minute! She told her mother! I must have made some sort of noise, like maybe an anguished scream and then a death rattle of terminal embarrassment, because she stopped talking and looked at me.
"Don't be silly, Angel, of course Mom knows. She and Daddy want to visit and meet the new you. Want to bet they buy you a nice new outfit when they come?" She returned to the phone. "I am not being mean, Mother. Angel just worries too much. You're going to love her as much as I do."
Not that Mary Ann stopped talking, but I stopped listening. Her mother helped Mary Ann buy a bra for me? What would my mother do if my sister asked her to help buy a bra for her boyfriend? I can't even begin to put that scene down on paper. Impossible! Every time I think I'm getting used to being Angel the Girl I find out that I have a lot to learn.
Had my eyes examined today. Yup, I do need glasses. I called home and fortunately talked to my mother. She'll take care of all the paperwork and insurance stuff, all I had to do is give her the info on the optometrist and give them the insurance numbers. I picked out a pair of really sweet gold-rimmed glasses with big round lenses, about as far from what my father would choose as it could possibly get.
They do look like something a librarian would wear. I suppose I'm going to have to get one of those glasses hangers since they're reading glasses and I'll be taking them on and off pretty regularly. I know if they aren't tied to my body I'll lose them - something my mother has told me about my head quite a few times.
I'm not sure what I'll do when I'm back home, but that isn't for months yet.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
I'm getting better at cooking. Today I did a traditional Sunday dinner, naturally with Mary Ann's help, but I planned the menu, went shopping for the ingredients and found the recipes. We had roast ham with those pineapple slices and cherries pinned all over it - it looks pretty cool that way and isn't any real trouble to do. I think it looked just as good as the picture in the cookbook once I put it on the table.
It was accompanied by broccoli (cooks real quick in the microwave and tastes great) and garlic smashed potatoes. Smashed, not mashed. You roast the whole garlic head in the oven, then squeeze it on the potatoes and add butter. You don't even have to peel the potatoes, just keep the skins on. More vitamins and better flavor.
Suzy homemaker, that's me.
Monday, July 15
I'm starting to feel pretty comfortable around the library, but it seems I am even more comfortable as Angel the Girl. I mean, I simply no longer noticed that I'm dressed as a girl and wearing a bra and everything until something special happens, like having to use the bathroom or putting a book on a high shelf so I have to stretch and feel my breast forms pressing into me.
Or having some guy flirt with me.
Really! I was doing the Information Desk this afternoon (Yeah, me barely knowing where anything is after only a week!) when this guy came in. If I were a real girl I suppose I would consider him kind of cute. He was a few years older than me and looked kind of preppy, wearing one of those sweaters that intellectual jocks wore in the old 50s sitcoms. But he had a good body and a nice voice. (I don't believe I'm noticing stuff like this!) Anyway, he asked where to find information on Chinese art and I even knew the answer.
That should have been all, but then he complemented me on my necklace. It's a nice one, I gave it to Mary Ann for graduation but she let me wear it today. I just wish I could wear the matching ear rings but my ears aren't pierced. No way to hide that from Dad, so too bad.
Anyway, I thanked him and then he asks if I'm new here and I admit it. He starts telling me about the city and stuff and suddenly I realize he's offering to show me around. He's making a pass. At me!
Well, I got flustered, and damned if he didn't just pour on the charm and get me even more flustered. Nobody ever taught me what to do when a guy makes a pass at me; somehow Mom didn't think I would need to know that. I tried to be nice but distant, but I must have seemed like a complete ditz. I just didn't know what to do!
Anyway, he finally left and I managed to calm down. When I was able to think again I realized I ought to be flattered. After all, the couple of times Angel the Boy tried to flirt were complete disasters, I got shut down pretty quick.
Angel the Girl must be pretty convincing if some stranger is attracted enough to want to take her out, unless maybe the guy is just a compulsive flirter and doesn't care. Does that mean I have to hope the guy has good taste for flirting with me and getting me all discombobulated? The details I never thought of when Grandpa gave me the option to be a girl for the summer!
I told Mary Ann about it at lunch and she wasn't much help. She told me that if I was going to make a date with a stranger that he'd better have a good looking friend so she could come too. Is she serious? That would be just about the ultimate weird - a guy who looks like a girl going out with some other guy, double dating with his lover who is with yet another guy.
I'm getting even more confused than ever! I'm going to put on my nightgown and go to bed. With only Mary Ann in the bed with me, thank you!
Wednesday, July 17
Men are such boobs! I mean, when I read those articles in the newspaper about how men look at a woman's boobs while they're talking to her it always seemed like they were making a big deal out of nothing. Mary Ann laughed at me when I told her, then she said I spent an awful lot of time looking at her boobs. Did I? I'm obsessed with bras, but you can see them better from the back. Maybe I'm not an impartial judge of the situation.
I now have enough experience at the information desk to say that an awful lot of men want to look at my boobs, even without visible cleavage. What would they do if I could show them some cleavage? Maybe I don't want to know. Then again, I can't help wondering what it would be like to have real breasts of my own. I know that's a silly thought, I'm only Angel the Girl for the summer and then I go back to real life. College, study, job.
The only problem is I'm no longer so sure I want to go home and go to school like I planned. I love my family but after living with Grandpa and Eve and learning what freedom is all about I don't want to go back to the way things were. That's not only because I would have to return to being Angel the Boy, but being Angel the Child.
The only way I can figure that Mom and Dad let me stay here for the summer is that it was an Act of God. That's just about what it takes to get Dad to loosen up. I'm not about to ask Him for another miracle so soon after the last one. Even if Dad doesn't find out about Angel the Girl I'm not the same person who left home a couple of weeks ago. My doubts about what I had been taught were getting stronger before I left, now I realize that there are a lot of unanswered questions in the real world.
Grandpa says getting the answers to those questions is what life's about; if you think you have all the answers already you aren't living, just marking time. I guess I'm really living high because I have questions I could never have imagined only a few weeks ago.
Friday, July 19
It just occurred to me - Mary Ann has got the be the most wonderful person in the world. Why else would she be so wonderful, why else would she put up with me? I mean, she could have picked any other guy in the school and had them begging for her love, but she picked me. Conservative, confused, virgin, obsessed with her bra me.
How did I ever live before I met her? She fills an empty spot I didn't even know I had, being with her is so natural and wonderful I can't believe it. I can talk to her and tell her about anything and she understands. The funny thing is, she can talk to me about anything and I somehow understand her. That's something pretty special. Grandpa and Eve seem to have it, too. Maybe it runs in Mary Ann's family - it sure doesn't run in mine. I just hope our kids inherit it.
Our kids?
Did I say that?
Of course I did, it's right there on the screen. That sort of thought has been going around in my brain for a while now, but it seems so real when it lands on paper. I love Mary Ann, I've told her that and she says it to me. It's real, and I don't care if I just turned eighteen, it isn't some infatuation. At least I don't think so.
Funny, but for once I have to agree with Dad. He has preached on what love really is and it's one of the areas he seems to agree with liberals (radicals?) like Mary Ann's family. Not too long ago Grandpa was talking about what love is and even he pretty much agrees with Dad, except for the stuff about no sex before marriage.
Everyone must have heard of the way the Bible talks about love in 1st Corinthians:
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love,
I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.
I could probably write the whole passage from memory, I've heard it so often at weddings. Even if I didn't understand it until I met Mary Ann I still enjoyed it.
Robert Heinlein, my new favorite author, (reading him is one of the reasons I haven't been writing this journal every day) has a great quote:
"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own."
Simple, but it rings true. As long as I'm looking up quotes (I am an apprentice librarian, after all) there's one I remember from Ann Landers:
"Love is friendship that has caught fire."
Yeah, that's right. She talks a lot about trust and waiting and maturity and now I understand what she was talking about.
I'm in love. In love with Mary Ann and she's in love with me. Both of me.
Amazing!
Saturday, July 20
I enjoy being a girl. Grandpa was singing that song in the car on our way to the picnic today. I suppose it's better than listening to "The Music Man" but Grandpa's taste in music isn't mine. Musical preferences aside I did enjoy being a girl today.
It's something I never thought about being Angel the Boy, but girls have a lot more fun picking out clothes in the morning. Unless I was going to church or something I just put on a pair of pants and a shirt and went off to school. Since my pants were all black or gray I never gave a thought to matching colors, everything matched!
With Mary Ann and Eve to help I have gotten pretty good at choosing outfits that match. I really like doing it, it gives me a little thrill because it's something that only a girl would do.
I have to think about what I'm going to wear quite a bit, because even though Sylvia had very good taste in clothes she was still old enough to be my grandmother. She must have been a very young thinking grandmother, and I'm fortunate she stuck mostly to classic styles but a lot of her stuff is a bit dated.
Clothes for the library are no problem, a nice skirted suit works very well, even if some people kid me about being so formal. As often as not the other interns wear jeans and T-shirts but I don't think I could carry off Angel the Girl in jeans and a T-shirt. Besides, I can wear jeans and T-shirts as Angel the Boy, it seems kind of silly to be Angel the Girl and not wear a skirt.
Sylvia did have some very nice pantsuits and there's no doubt they were made for a woman, but I'm considerably taller than Sylvia was so I can't wear them. Her longer skirts are fine for me even if they don't sweep the floor like some of them were intended to do. I like the way high heels set them off, but I don't do that often because I still have a problem with being in heels all day.
I've bought a couple of things of my own, not many because nice clothes are expensive and I haven't got much money. Just buying pantyhose costs more than I would have thought, it doesn't take too long to get a run in them and then I have to throw them out. We interns get paid a stipend, but it about covers coffee and bagels in the morning, not a high fashion wardrobe.
The first time Mary Ann had me try on clothes with her in a store I was petrified. How come I can be Angel the Girl without thinking about it much any more but then suddenly realize I'm a guy in a place where there should be only women and get scared? I got over it, all I had to do is start thinking like a girl again, which is difficult when Mary Ann is standing next to me in her panties, but pretty soon I found I was interested enough in how the clothes fit to regain my girlish composure.
For the most part I like what Sylvia wore. Maybe it's because my Mom almost always wears dresses or skirts to please Dad; I like how Mom looks, she has style even if it isn't something you'd see in a fashion magazine.
Anyway, I think I look better in long skirts, they help hide the fact I have no hips to speak of. One of the things I bought was a pair of padded panties so I have a little more of a figure to wear clothes that are a bit tighter on me, but the thing gets hot after a while and it's like sitting on two bags of sand when I'm wearing it. I prefer loose, flowing clothing anyway. Maybe it's a good thing that Dad thinks mini skirts are the work of the Devil, I don't know what I'd do if I wanted to wear them.
I think it may be because I don't want to be sexy, I just want to look like a girl. Mary Ann certainly wears short skirts and they look just fine on her, but I don't usually let my knees show. They're kind of lumpy, anyway.
Anyway, we got to the park before Grandpa exhausted his repertoire of old songs and had our picnic. I was wearing a beautiful sundress with about twenty yards of lace and frills that left my arms exposed and let my bra straps show. A little voice that sounded a lot like my Dad was saying "sinful," but half the women in the park were showing bra straps, the rest had dispensed with bras altogether. It felt absolutely wonderful to wear that dress, more feminine than you can imagine!
Actually, I got a kick about displaying my bra straps. After all, hadn't I spent hour after hour looking at bra straps, fantasizing about bra straps, longing to be wearing my own bra straps? Now I was able to wear a bra all day long and let other people fantasize about my bra straps. Call it my good deed for all the boys who have strange obsessions like my own.
Getting into the spirit of things I stood there and batted my eyes at the big, strong, man in the group while he carried the picnic basket and the other heavy things to the picnic table. I suppose it's a good thing he was mumbling, I don't think I want to know was really saying.
One of the things he was carrying was a badminton set. Grandpa had to explain what it was, I had never heard of it before. Think tennis played with a whiffleball, but it's called a birdie. You can whack the heck out of the birdie and it just sort of floats down. Well maybe not floats because I had a hard time getting my racket to where the birdie was going to be, but it isn't anything like the speed of a tennis ball.
The hardest thing was remembering to slow down and move like a girl and not rush like I do when playing tennis as Angel the Boy. I worried about loosing my wig but once I got the feel for it there was no problem. In fact, the feel of moving and stretching in a dress was heavenly. I was very aware of my bra and breasts as I stretched and swung, a wonderful feeling, indeed. The hem of my sundress caressed my bare, shaved legs (no stockings, this was a casual day!) with every motion of my body.
I had visions of Victorian ladies gently playing on a vast, green lawn while the servants catered to their every whim. Wouldn't it be lovely to wear one of those formal Victorian dresses? I wasn't a very good player, but with Mary Ann's help we beat Grandpa and Eve in sort-of-mixed doubles play. Did they let us win? Who cares, it was fun!
The only thing I missed was not being able to swim, no way I could fake it in a swimsuit. The breast forms look natural when they're covered, but not in a swimming suit. I had to content myself with wading along the shore, which was lots of fun. Mary Ann and I held hands as we strolled, we were far from the only pair of women (or men) doing so that day, so no one seemed to care. We even kissed right there in public! More than once.
I enjoy being a girl!
Sunday, July 21, 2013
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Grandpa would be proud of the literary allusion, but I need to write this down and out of my system. Today was cold, wet and rainy; a perfectly lousy day which was all the worse for the beautiful day outdoors yesterday. Grandpa and Eve went off to the Liar's Club so it was just me and Mary Ann.
The day started out great, with no one else at home, so we made love without having to worry about anyone else hearing. Mary Ann sure can scream loud! Me I just sort of grunt when the time comes, but I could grunt loud and it felt good.
But it bothered me a bit when I got dressed afterward. I mean, about 15 minutes ago I was being just about as manly and male as it is possible to be and then I was putting on a bra. Just what was I doing? I still went ahead and put it on, along with my panties, then felt strange seeing my male equipment bulging under pink satin. Since I wasn't going out I wore jeans and a T-shirt, sometimes it's just too much to get dressed up. I put on the wig, I really hate to see myself in the mirror without it. The person in the mirror looked like a girl, but I knew I was a guy - so where was the truth?
So after that the rest of the day just went downhill. I was too restless to read so we tried to watch The Music Man together. Beth may have loved it, but I made it for about 20 minutes before I couldn't take any more. I tried to get into it, I really did, but the plot was so dumb and they kept interrupting so someone could sing or dance or whatever. I'm sorry, but the music sucked big time. So I went and did something else and pissed Mary Ann off because I left.
Nothing on the regular tube, so I finished the dishes and cleaned up a bit. Just call me Angel the perfect housewife. I thought about getting Mary Ann back in bed, but she was still pissed off at me so that was out.
When the phone rang I answered it in my Angel the Girl voice, after all I had been using it all week; it was getting to be natural. It was Mom, calling to find out how I was doing, but I had a shock when she asked if she could talk to Angel. I couldn't figure out what was happening at first, then it dawned on me. I stammered something and desperately tried to find my Angel the Boy voice.
It wasn't easy to do. I was really into being Angel the Girl, but now I had to do a quick change! I reached down somewhere inside me and found my old voice.
"Hi Mom!" I hope I faked excitement well enough. "It's great to hear from you."
Well, it wasn't a complete lie, I really did want to talk to her, but now I was feeling guilty as the devil because I knew darn well she would be horrified if could see me. We didn't say anything that's worth writing down, just catching up. I had to do some on the fly editing in telling her about what I was doing on the internship, making sure I didn't give her a clue about Angel the Girl.
So I got even more guilty, then I talked to Dad and he kept telling me how proud he was of his son, his boy. All the time I'm sitting there with boobs hanging off me and lying with just about every word I said. I hated that, I don't want to lie but I want to be me, not my Dad's son, or even his daughter. Just me, whoever that is!
I had to hang up before I started crying, which would have really have been hard to explain to Dad. So I started blubbering as soon as I hung up and went to our bedroom where I undressed and put on the boy clothes I brought with me from home for the first time in weeks. Mary Ann was still watching some stupid movie so I just called out to her I was going out and left the house.
I got on the bus, feeling faintly foolish to take out my wallet instead of opening my purse, and rode. I didn't really know where I wanted to go, I just got on the first bus that stopped - and on the weekend that isn't too big a choice. So I rode around for a while and the thing finally pulled up near a movie theater, so I got out and looked for a movie that I wanted to see.
It wouldn't be too hard to find one better than "The Music Man", but since I was in a lousy mood I guess I chose the movie because it was full of things blowing up and cars crashing and some big hunk shooting the crap out of everything while he saves the dumb woman, who can't do anything for herself except scream and look helpless.
Trying to placate my macho ego? Maybe, but after about 20 minutes I was as bored as I had been with The Music Man I walked across the parking lot and hit the mall. When in doubt, hang out at the mall! Isn't that the cry of my generation?
My generation. Could I claim that? I didn't fit in too well anywhere. When I was growing up I missed parties and stuff because Dad wouldn't let me go because they weren't properly Christian, and no way he was going to let me hang out at the mall. I used to spend most of Sunday wearing a suit and going to church. I never really dated, even Mary Ann. I could go out in a group if Dad approved, but all alone with a girl? I didn't have to ask.
So I was outside of most things at school. Not that I lacked for friends, but my friends were always different. Well, it makes sense because I wasn't exactly mainstream, but I never felt like a jock or the kind of man that you see in the movies or on TV. Top that off with my obsession for bras and what do you get?
That's what I'm trying to figure out.
Not having a heck of a lot of money I mostly looked at the displays and wandered the place. I realized it didn't feel right to feel the air on my head any more. I kind of liked not having to brush my hair out of my face all the time, but I missed the feel of the wig. As I came to one of the fountains there were half a dozen guys hanging out and trying to look cool. They couldn't have been much younger than me, but they struck me as young punks, which made me feel like I was turning into my Dad.
They were decked out in grunge and chains and trying to impress each other with how macho and cool they were. I stopped to watch as most everyone else made an obvious detour around them.
Just what does it mean to be a guy anyway? The example before me wasn't anything I wanted to be a part of. While I love my Dad I can't buy his version of manhood either. The windows of the stores were filled with figures touting the latest in style for men, but that seemed so artificial. I just got more confused.
I stopped at Borders and browsed a bit, then Had An Idea. Maybe they had a book about what it means to be confused like me. I had to laugh - I had just spent the entire week in a library with all the free books you could ever want and didn't think of this until I was in the mall. One more thing to go wrong in my life.
Well, what the heck. I looked and they did have several books on the subject. I decided on one and bought it, then blew the rest of my cash on a fancy coffee and read it in the café. The coffee was long gone but I sat at the table and read the whole thing. It was a series of short essays on what it means to be male or female or something in between. Every one was different, but by the time I got done reading I felt a lot better.
I still had a lot of questions, in fact I had a whole lot more questions than when I started, but they are coherent questions, not the formless mess that was swirling around in my mind. There are a lot of people in this world like me, somewhere between male and female. For the first time I asked myself why I needed to choose one or the other for ever and ever.
That's a radical idea. I'm going to have to do some serious thinking about it and find an answer. I was getting hungry but I had already spent more than I planned today, so I started for home. As I walked down the mall to the bus stop a loud wail came from one of those little kiosks in the middle. There was a lady there getting her baby's ears pierced. The kid couldn't have been more than a couple of months old, but there she was with a little jewel in each ear.
That's when I lost touch with reality. If that little bitty baby could get her ears pierced then why couldn't I? What did it matter if I looked like a boy, It was my body and I could do what I wanted with it, and I wanted to wear real earrings. If the people I had just read about had overcome hate and prejudice and violence then why couldn't I overcome my own fears?
So I did it. When the lady and her baby left I just walked up and told the saleswoman I wanted to get my ears pierced. She smiled and asked what pair of earrings I would like and showed me the selection of starters. Just like that, no funny looks, no outcry, just another sale here in the mall.
Before I could loose my nerve I picked out a pair of green balls and she sat me down and measured my ear. I didn't say anything but I must have had the question on my face.
"I want to make sure both earrings are in the same place, so I measure and put a dot on each ear to be sure."
Well, at least I had a definitive answer to one question today. I got a little nervous when she put a gun to my head (I had seen that macho bang-bang movie only a few hours ago!) but SNAP - SNAP and I had earrings. I was disappointed when she told me the starters had to stay in for three weeks, but I can wait. I think.
When I got home Mary Ann was over her mad and I was feeling a lot better about myself. She loved the earrings and likes to nibble on them, which drives me crazy. Since Grandpa and Eve weren't back yet we did a lot more screaming in bed and the day ended on a much better note.
Monday, July 22
What have I gotten myself into? Last night when Mary Ann and I went off to bed in a hurry I left the book I had gotten laying in the living room, where Grandpa saw it when he got home. Next morning at breakfast he was reading it when we sat down.
"Interesting reading, Angel. You learn anything from it?" He has a way of raising his eyebrows that urges you to answer.
"Yeah. The book takes a broader look at what it means to be male or female than the stuff Mary Ann & I found on the net when you had us look up crossdressing. I guess I still have some questions I haven't got answers to."
"And well you should!" chimed in Eve. "Even if you weren't spending the summer as a woman you certainly need to think about how you intend to live your life."
"You make it sound so serious!"
"Well, isn't it?
"Yeah but…"
"You've got poor Angel all confused and she hasn't even had her breakfast, Eve." Grandpa interrupted. "Let the poor girl at least get some coffee in her before you discuss philosophy!"
"Angel, whatever happens don't take up with a grumpy old man, especially when he's right. Sit down and eat."
"Of course I'm right, but I will apologize for not waiting until I had my second cup of coffee before opening my mouth."
He waited until I had filled my cup and buttered some toast.
"Actually," Grandpa continued," this book has given me an idea that will help both of us. I grew up in a world that didn't offer much choice in gender roles or anything else vaguely connected with sex, at least not out in public. Men were men and women were tools to be used as needed and that's that."
"Angel, I never met a gay man, and you better believe we weren't so polite as to use the word 'gay', until I was a Dad twice over. Well, of course I had, but he wasn't telling and I wasn't asking, so how could I know? As for crossdressing, I hadn't heard of it until it hit daytime TV and people started coming into the library and asking for books about it. We didn't have any books like that back then either. I remember the row that "The Joy of Sex" caused.
"The Joy of Sex?" I had to ask!
"On the shelf in my library, unless Eve is brushing up on her technique. Don't tell me you and my granddaughter haven't discovered it?"
"You're a dirty old man, Grandpa. Angel and I don't need any book," Chimed in Mary Ann.
"Don't knock it until you've tried it." replied Eve. "It even had a few things to teach this old goat and it's fun to use what he's learned."
"I can't believe we're having this conversation during breakfast!" Was Mary Ann really scandalized or just stirring the pot?
"We do seem to have gotten a bit off track, haven't we? What I was going to say was that we need to put together a new book display for August and it seems to me that a couple of interns I know of might want to volunteer for the task. Perhaps a theme revolving around gender would be appropriate?"
"That's a loaded word, Grandpa. Gender like crossdressers use the word or gender like feminists use it?"
"Why not both? Compare and contrast, highlight the dichotomy. Be creative."
"Can we point out that the filters the government requires us to have cut off access to most of the stuff on the Internet?"
"Put up a flashing neon sign! Libraries are in the business providing information, not censoring it. Or at least we should be!"
"Grandpa?" I asked.
"Yes, Angel?"
"How did you get to be an anti-government, sex crazed, bleeding heart liberal when you told me you grew up in the Bible Belt?
"Poisons in the water, part of a multi-national corporate conspiracy to placate the masses, but it went wrong with me and I mutated. Either that or they screwed up in the hospital and some poor progressive couple in Indiana can't figure out how they managed to raise a damned Republican!"
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
My new glasses are in. They look just as cool as I hoped they would, very feminine. I did get one of those hanger things and I get a kick of having my glasses bounce off my breasts when I take them off.
Angel is easily amused, sometimes.
Wednesday, July 24
The good part of the job is doing the research for the transgender display, that was fun. The staff there is willing to drop everything and complain about censoring information if you give them half a chance, so we have more than enough material to do that part of the display. The harder part is finding the right material to explain transgenderism and all the various categories. This naturally gets into the subject of gay rights. Although we're trying to focus on the transgender area the two are hard to separate in the literature, especially the older stuff.
Not that the older stuff is that old. As far as I can tell there's practically nothing in print before the sixties. Our library has an unusually large collection of older material because someone donated their personal library. I'm glad that they did it in a time when the library could accept it without raising a public outcry. I have read just about everything there is in the collection, now all I have to do is figure out how to make sense of it in the display. I do know that Virginia Prince will be the starting point; she seems to be the grand dame of crossdressing, the first one to go public in a big way.
The bad part is all this research is making me think about just who I am. Well, maybe not bad, but uncomfortable. If you had asked me a couple of weeks ago I would have firmly told you I was a crossdresser, even if I wasn't so sure what that meant. I liked wearing girl's clothes but wanting to become a girl - no way.
But after a few of weeks living as a girl full time I was starting to wonder. How can I enjoy sex so much with Mary Ann and still love being a girl? I'm beginning to think I should talk to a counselor who has experience with gender dysphoria.
After all my reading I am starting to realize this may be more than a lark, but I still don't know how far I want to go down this path. I'm completely sure I don't want to lose my male equipment, but it is so incredibly comforting to wear a bra and feel my breast forms nestled up to my chest. I keep thinking how nice it would be to have real breasts.
That would be pretty damned permanent, once I make the commitment I would have to live as a girl (woman, I suppose) forever. It seems nice but - forever? No going back?
My Dad would disown me for sure, Mom would cry her eyes out and my sister would probably never forgive me. That would be hard. And what about Mary Ann? Sure, she loves me and I love her, but what happens if we decide this was a summer lark after all? (Not much chance, but what if?) It would make life very complicated, wouldn't it?
Lately I have been thinking of proposing to her, but I haven't had the nerve. Would she marry a man who everyone thinks is a woman? Could we live happily ever after if everyone thought we were lesbians?
I think I really need to talk to someone who can help me. We, I should say, Mary Ann needs to be a part of this, we need to make any decision together. Maybe Grandpa knows how to find a shrink to help, but then how do I pay for it? I sure wouldn't want Dad to find out I was going to a shrink, he'd make me come home and pray over me until I saw the light. He doesn't approve of shrinks too much.
Sometimes I wish I had never seen a bra in my life, it would have been much easier all around.
Thursday, July 25
My ears itch! It didn't really hurt to have them pierced, but they do itch and I'm always fiddling with the earrings. Mary Ann likes to nibble on them, and that stops the itching but she can't do it all day long. Someone at the library would be sure to comment.
I'm beginning to think that I should make my life's work inventing a robot that can put books back on the shelves in the right place. I may not make a fortune, but every librarian in the known and unknown universe will love me forever. After a couple of hours of shelving books I am ready to curse my boobs. They just plain get in the way, sticking out in front of me and I have a hard time carrying a pile of books. Mary Ann says a proper woman wouldn't try to carry as many books as I do and I should get used to it.
I'm trying to get used to being a woman, really I am!
I guess it's pretty obvious that I have been having doubts and problems lately. Grandpa and Eve finally decided it was time for a family talk tonight. At first I panicked, because when Dad wants a family talk it usually means people are not going to be happy afterward, but I should have known better. This is a whole different family.
It didn't take too long to tell them what I've been feeling, I trust them as much as I trust Mary Ann and it was awful easy to let my worries and doubts out. Mary Ann just held my hand as I talked it out, and the both of them just encouraged me to tell the whole story my way until I just ran dry.
"Well Eve," Grandpa drawled, "just shows you that no good deed goes unpunished, doesn't it?"
"Earle!" admonished Eve.
"Sorry Angel, I'm not trying to make light of your pain, but I guess I didn't think it through when I encouraged you to start crossdressing. After meeting your Dad I should have realized that there would be more involved than just changing clothes. Not to run down your Dad, but he seems to be a might too certain of things for my taste. Once you start asking questions some of the answers can be painful."
"You didn't make me start, Grandpa. I had been wearing bras long before you invited me for the summer, I just had to hide that I was doing it."
"I guess there are enough mistakes to give a few to everyone to chew on. Even though it's been a few years I still remember some of what it was like to be a teenager, as incredible as it seems.
"You're lucky in a way, Angel, because if I had had your desires there would have been hell to pay and damned few people who would have done anything besides thrown me out of the tribe to wander in the desert alone. It may not be much consolation, but at least we can talk about your crossdressing openly and try to make things better."
"I think that's what I need, I need to talk to a professional but I don't know how to find one or how to pay for it or ..."
"Take it easy, Angel, one step at a time. Take a deep breath!"
I took a deep breath, which made me very aware of my breasts, which distracted me for a few seconds, then let it out.
"That's better. I assume your folks have health insurance?"
"Sure, but I can't let Dad know I'm seeing a shrink. He hates them and then he'd ask why I was seeing one and ..."
"Breathe, girl, breathe!"
I breathed. Mary Ann squeezed my hand harder and I relaxed.
Don't borrow trouble, Angel. If you know the system there are ways to keep the details private, and Audrey Pymm knows the system, believe me. She's one of the best psychiatrists in the area and I know she has some experience in gender issues. If she isn't qualified she will be able to refer you to someone who is.
"Pymm?" asked Mary Ann. "As in the Frog Man?"
"His wife, although how she puts up with him without professional help I can't understand."
"Just ask me, Earle. I put up with you so I know how it works," quipped Eve.
"Quiet woman, I'm solving problems here. Give me room to work."
"Such a masculine attitude Earle. I think I'm going to have to put a bra on you and have Angel help me civilize you. Angel doesn't need you to solve her problems, she can do that herself with Audrey's help. You just listen and make encouraging sounds, that's what she needs right now."
"Ummm hummm."
"Better. Angel, if you want to talk to Audrey we'll help you do it. No one outside our family needs to know, the people in the Liars Club help each other when needed."
"I'd like that." I replied.
"We would like that, Angel. We're in this together," Mary Ann added.
"So we are. Thanks Grandpa. Thanks, Eve. And Grandpa?"
"Ummm hummm."
"Go ahead and try wearing a bra. It's a lot of fun, you may learn to like it."
Friday, July 26
Oh Lord! Chuck asked me for a date! What am I going to do? Chuck is a nice guy but I don't want to date him. I have a steady girl, but I can't tell him that!
How the devil do you turn down a guy when you don't want to date him? I mean, without hurting him. Mother never taught me this kind of stuff, and I sure couldn't ask my sister. Mary Ann would be the logical one to ask for advice, but I wasn't able to call "time out" long enough to consult her.
I got all tongue tied and stammery, trying to tell him I liked him but was seeing someone seriously. He looked like a hurt puppy, really he did.
I feel like a heel, I don't want him to think of me that way but how could he know? Since I'm trying my best to make sure he doesn't know that sounds pretty stupid, doesn't it? What really makes me wonder is that I gave him a kiss and a hug when I turned him down.
Just a quick peck on the cheek, but it seemed the right thing to do. It's only now that I realize I deliberately kissed a man because I was thinking like a woman and it was the right thing to do.
Dad always says one lie leads to another and that one leads to still another, until you get lost in the web of lies you have told. I don't want to think of me exploring being a girl as a lie, but I suppose it is. I am a guy, after all.
Aren't I?
I sure haven't been acting like it lately. Exactly one month ago today I left the house as Angel the Girl for the first time. Can it be that short a time? Could it be that long?
Depends on the way you look at it.
Mary Ann tries to understand, but I'm not sure she gets it. She really doesn't care if she's with Angel the Boy or Angel the Girl. If she has any doubts I haven't been able to see them. She's really amazing, I never dreamed I could love someone like I love her, and that she would be so willing to help me be what I want to be. I hope I am just as good to her, I try to be but I am never sure if I'm doing the right thing.
Kind of a theme in my life these days, isn't it?
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Today was the day. Mary Ann's parents came to meet Angel the Girl. You wouldn't believe how nervous I was. It was worse than seeing them just after we started going steady.
I lost my ability to think. I couldn't decide what outfit to wear. I couldn't decide if I was going to run away from home. I couldn't decide if I wanted to use some makeup so I would look more like a girl.
Mary Ann pointed out that I haven't been using any makeup and everyone at the library thinks I'm a girl because I have a face that is kind of neutral. With the wig and breasts I look like a girl, with the brush cut I look like a boy. She doesn't use makeup except on special occasions, she says her face is good enough as it is and she doesn't need to hide it under a layer of paint.
But today was a special occasion. (Do they tell that to prisoners before they march them out of their cell to the firing squad?) Not only were Mary Ann's parents coming to see me, but we were going to be serving her parents a meal we had cooked together. I wanted to look my best, even if I didn't want anyone to see me. This was very confusing.
Grandpa has been teaching me to dance as a girl. He even manages to keep a straight face when I move around like Frankenstein. Did Frankenstein ever wear high heels to dance? Well, if he could tap dance for Mel Brooks then I can dance in high heels.
I'm glad Sylvia liked party dresses, even if it was hard to choose which one to wear. I finally settled on long skirted, split-sheath blue dress with crinkly sleeves and a criss-cross bodice that hid the fact that I don't have any cleavage while showing a little skin. I liked the gold belt that went with it, very flattering. The disadvantage is that it was tight enough I had to wear my girdle and the padding again, but I did look pretty good in it. Mostly I stick to loose styles that don't emphasize my lack of figure. Don't I just sound like a girl complaining that her body isn't perfect? Some feminist I'd make!
I was about as nervous as I could be by the time the doorbell rang. The door opened and in came Mary Ann's family. I don't know what I was expecting (well, that's a lie - I was expecting all hell to break loose), but I got hugged and kissed by Mary Ann's mom, who looked like she was going to break into tears. Her Dad gave me a bit of an inspection and then hugged me too. Her brother didn't hug me, he just said "Well I'll be damned!" in a way the took the sting out of it and shook my hand.
It was an anti-climax. We just sat around the living room talking, catching up on what had happened in the last few weeks as if nothing very unusual had happened. Finally Mr. Wilson (Mary Ann's Dad, not grandpa) approached the subject that must have been foremost on all of our minds.
"I must say you do justice to Mother's dress, Angel."
"Thank you, sir. I'm just sorry I never got to meet her, she must have been quite a woman."
"That she was. And so, it seems, are you. By the way, since you're sleeping with her, call me Pop like my impertinent daughter does or George - and no cracks about Dennis the Menace, either!"
"I try my best, Pop." You wouldn't believe how hard it was to get that last word out! "And thank you for being so understanding, my real Dad would be having kittens if he saw me like this."
"Angel, my daughter and my Dad have warned me that I had better practice the understanding and tolerance I preach or they'll both disown me. Besides, by the time they reach your age most boys have at least tried on their mother's clothes a time or two. I know I did, but for me it was just a passing fancy. You seem to have found something you need in expressing your feminine side and that's your privilege."
"Angel," Mary Ann's Mom spoke, "We raised Mary Ann to make her own decisions. If she loves you then we love you, no matter how you present yourself to the world. You're welcome as part of our family however you feel comfortable. And please call me Mom if you feel comfortable with it."
It was as if a weight had been removed from my back. Even if Grandpa and Eve accepted me as a girl, I was still worried about what Mary Ann's folks would say, not only about the dresses but because I was sleeping with their daughter and we weren't married.
"I would love to call you Mom and Pop. I thought life couldn't get any better when I fell in love with Mary Ann, but you've just proved me wrong. It got a whole lot better, just now."
"And I just got a new sister to pick on. Thanks for the favor, Angel. I suppose that means we have to play touch football from now on, since you're a girl now." That was Mary Ann's brother Dale.
"Just watch where you're touching, brother. She's all mine!" Mary Ann can be possessive at times.
"Well, I don't think I'm going to be coming home to play football any time soon, Dale"
"I bet. Since I haven't heard any news reports about explosions in town I take it your old man doesn't know."
"Not likely."
"So this Angel is going to be a summer love, sis?"
"I love Angel either way, brother mine."
"You must. So what happens when it's time to start school again. Aren't you planning to live with your folks and go to school at the community college, Angel?"
"Yeah, I guess I have to go back to my old self when the summer is over and I go home for college."
My new Pop spoke up. "I don't intend to run down your Dad, Angel, but he did seem a little hidebound when we met him. I hope you'll pardon me being blunt, but what happens if you decide that becoming a woman is what you need to do?"
"That's one of the few things I can be sure of, Mr. Wi... Uh Pop. I know I'm not transsexual, I intend to stay physically male no matter what else happens."
"Don't worry Pop, we'll supply you a couple of grandchildren to spoil in you old age." Mary Ann is always the practical one.
"Don't you think there should be a wedding first, darling?" Her Mom is just as practical.
"Does that mean I have to wear a dress if you two get married? Asked Dale.
"What makes you think we'll invite a troublemaker like you to our wedding?" my love inquired sweetly.
"Well, there's always blackmail. If that doesn't work I'll sell my story to the National Enquirer. The Truth About The Two Brides…"
"Children, you will all have to grow up a bit before we talk of weddings." Mom chided. We were having a serious discussion of what Mary Ann and Angel intend to do with their future. I take it that you consider yourself a transgenderist, Angel?"
I just looked surprised.
"Well, we did do some reading on the subject when Mary Ann told us, didn't we George?"
"More than a bit, Angel. We want to understand the subject because you mean so much to our daughter. We're not trying to slap a label on you, just trying to understand."
"You're not the only ones!" I replied with feeling. "Sometimes I have to wonder if I'm going crazy, but then I realize that if I feel so right playing the part of a girl than God must have intended me to be this way, but I doubt my Dad would see it that way."
"Which brings us back to the subject of your family. I have read enough to realize that now your feminine side has been born into the world there is no going back. How are you going to cope with hiding a part of you that obviously means so much to you that you will defy social convention?"
"I don't know. I guess I haven't really wanted to think about it. I'm still just getting used to being Angel the Girl, I haven't thought much about the future."
"Angel the Girl? That's a curious phrase."
"Well, a boy growing up with the name Angel gets a lot of grief about it. Dad keeps telling me Angel is a boy’s name, Angelica is the girl’s version, but nobody in school ever believed that. I hated Dad for a long time for my name, but I got over it.
"There were times when I'd think what Angel the Girl or Angel the Boy would do in a certain situation. It gave me a way to look at things from a different perspective before I did something stupid. Mary Ann just helped me learn more about Angel the Girl, to make her a real person and not just a point of view."
"Interesting." Pop replied. I would have never thought of that. Having you part of the family will certainly make life more intriguing. In any case, you have six weeks or so to make your decision. If we can be any help I want you to ask us for it. So enough of the serious stuff, dinner is waiting."
He stood and offered one arm to his wife and the other to me. I had planned a meal that I could do almost everything in advance, then just heat up the side dishes when the roast came out of the oven. I have to confess to the Sin of Pride as Mary Ann and I served the dinner to her parents. I think her mother unleashed a monster when she started teaching me to cook.
I almost pity my father because he will never know the pleasure of working together in the kitchen to make a meal. All people must eat, so why should preparing food be done only by the women? Didn't Jesus feed the multitude? While it may be a bit presumptuous to call Jesus a chef for preparing that meal for 5,000 followers, he did break the loaves with his own hands.
Was Jesus doing 'Women's Work' and should he be chastised for breaking tradition? Wasn't breaking tradition the essence of Jesus time on earth? I can hardly compare myself to Jesus, but there seems to be more nuanced approaches to living a good life than my father has realized.
With Grandpa, Eve and Mary Ann teaching me I was getting to be comfortable in the kitchen and in my skin. I envied them their ability to just throw things together without a recipe, but they assure me that will come with time and experience. Sort of like living my life as a girl, the longer I do it the more comfortable and easy it becomes. I never felt this comfortable as Angel the Boy. Well, except when I've been wearing high heels for too long a time.
After we ate we went out to a club, and yes, I can dance in high heels, especially if I have someone leading as skillfully as Mary Ann's Dad to dance with. Justin seems to have inherited his skill, but he seemed a bit nervous when he danced with me. Can't imagine why, unless he's concerned about blackmail.
Sunday, July 28
Grandpa was right, "The Joy of Sex" is interesting reading. Riveting, when you read it with someone who likes to be experimental. I read faster than Mary Ann so I had to wait for her to turn the page, but I found ways to occupy myself while waiting, even if it made her read more slowly.
Actually, the lady in the pictures looks a bit like Mary Ann, which is pretty nice. I don't look anything like the guy, which is fortunate or I could never pull off being Angel the Girl. He has a nice fuzzy beard and he makes it look easy to get himself inside her in the oddest positions. We tried some of them and mostly I couldn't get close enough to do any good.
That doesn't matter, we certainly found a lot of interesting things to try that did work. If I ever had any doubts that I grew up sheltered from reality (or at least sex) I don't have them now. Would Dad even try some of the things they suggest with Mom? I mean, they must have had sex or I wouldn't be here, but somehow I suspect it isn't anywhere near as inventive as what Mary Ann and I do.
Funny thing, though. With all the things that can turn on a couple of people they missed crossdressing. Maybe I should write them a note and tell them to add it, it sure works for us!
Monday, July 29
The research project seems to be taking over my life, but we have to have the display up by the first of the month. I rapidly devoured the limited material in the library, then used part of the small budget for the project to buy a few books over the internet. Sure, they were for the project, but you can bet they were for me and Mary Ann as well.
She seems a lot more comfortable with my crossdressing than I am, if that makes any sense. I guess it's her liberal outlook and attitude, but I have to work on the conservative that is deep inside my brain and it isn't giving up easily.
Even though I have been questioning (quietly!) the fundamental faith I grew up in, it still means a lot to me. Even if I'm not sure God is really there, I worry that He is not happy with the way I'm living my life. Kind of hard to get away from Him.
Mary Ann can't really understand that. I can't understand the nuances of being a girl because I didn't grow up as a girl, so I can't expect her to really understand what I'm going through because she didn't grow up that way. The good news is we are both beginning to learn about each other, but it isn't easy.
If you listen to Dad the answer is easy - look it up in The Book. Simple answers to all your questions, just study The Book so you can find them. No question too big or too small, just a God-given certainty that makes life easy to get through.
The only question The Book can't answer is what if you don't think God wrote it and every word is the literal Truth. Ironic that I have thousands of books in the library, including umpteen versions of The Book, but none of them do me any good.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Is it genetic? Why can't women leave the phone ringing when there is something else going on? It's not like we don't have an answering machine that we can check later. I have no trouble letting the thing ring if I am doing something important.
Like making love.
Really. Grandpa and Eve were out at a meeting and, as usual, we spent the time in bed. Sure we can do it when they're home, but there's something very nice about not having to keep quiet. So there we were, with me getting close and the phone rings.
And she answered the damned thing! With me inside her!
"Angel, it's your Mom."
Damn her! Either her! Damn both of them! It was easy for her to say but I was breathing like a racehorse at the finish line (well, I was at the finish line!) and she wants me to talk to my mother!
She smiled as she sat on top of me and handed me the phone. I am going to have to think of something very special to pay her back for the sadistic look she gave me. It cost me all I had to say "Hi Mom," which I did in my Angel the Girl voice. Hell, I was Angel the Girl, despite the current circumstances. I was still wearing my bra, wasn't I? Yes, it's going to have to be very special!
So I coughed a lot and found my other voice and talked to my mother. While Mary Ann did things to various places on my body that my mother would certainly not want to know were being done. Mom missed me, she loved me, the family was going on a trip, she filled me in on what was happening at the church and with my sister. I mostly said "Ummm Hummm" because I didn't trust which voice would come out of my mouth.
I had a very hard time concentrating on what she was saying, I'm sure I missed a lot but it was mostly "I miss my baby boy" kind of stuff. If only she knew what was happening with her "baby boy," but I wasn't going to tell her!
I finally beat Mary Ann back long enough to actually speak a coherent sentence, told her about the internship, and Grandpa and Eve and assured her I missed her as I hung up.
You can be sure I didn't miss where I was aiming on Mary Ann when I finished, she was ready and so was I.
And I damn sure left the phone off the hook!
Thursday, August 1
We unveiled the display this morning, and it was a great success. The staff loved it and so did many of the patrons. Of course it caused a bit of controversy but Grandpa was beaming with pride when it was done and never seems to tire of talking to anyone who has a problem with discussing gender identity and the Function of Libraries in Contemporary Society. You can hear the capitals when he starts his lecture, believe me!
Actually, I was surprised that not very many people complained. I guess I was using my family as the standard to compare the display with, but the people who frequent libraries are very different than my family. Far more liberal, even radical, when it comes to censorship.
Chuck gave both me and Mary Ann big hugs when he saw it. He doesn't seem to be upset that I turned him down for a date. This time the hug didn't bother me, it was the right thing at the right time.
Funny, even with Mary Ann and me doing a big project on crossdressing and gender bending I don't think anyone has any suspicion about my true sex. The only one who wonders about my gender is me, I feel even more comfortable being a girl than I did as a boy. It's no longer an act, it's just me.
Cool.
As much as I'm proud of the work we did on the project, seeing the calendar reminds me that there is less than a month before I have to go home and can no longer have Mary Ann in my life and in my bed.
I'm going to school and living at home and she's staying with Grandpa to go to college here. She's excited about studying architecture.
I have to say I'm not looking forward to losing Mary Ann and Angel the Girl at the same time, but there's nothing I can do about it. Writing letters seems to be so pallid when compared to what we have now. Long distance romance is going to suck.
Saturday, August 3
Went shopping with Eve and Mary Ann today. Grandpa stayed home, grumping about not having time to watch three women agonize over style differences that make no sense in the first place. It wasn't that long ago I would have stayed home with him, but shopping seems to be addictive when you like dresses.
The problem is, I don't have the money to support my habit. Nice clothes are expensive! Until today I hadn't truly realized how lucky I am to have Grandma Sylvia's wardrobe. There is no way I could possibly be angel the Girl without it.
After shopping with Eve and Mary Ann and learning the finer points of fashion I also realize that Sylvia had very good taste. Even though she could have been my grandmother most of her clothes are stylish enough for me to wear without looking out of place. Classic styling, Eve calls it.
Beth at the library sometimes gives me a yank about looking like a spinster librarian, but there is no way I could carry off the short skirts and tight sweaters she looks good in. Besides, I have to admit I feel more comfortable in more conservative dresses. Dad's influence, I suppose.
Mary Ann is somewhere in between Beth and me. She can look very sexy in things that would seem dowdy on me. Sure, her figure is better than mine (whose isn't?) but it's also something in her personality that makes it work. Anyway, I wish I could have met Sylvia, she must have been a very special lady.
Oh yeah, Eve made me buy a skirt that is far shorter than I would have chosen, but Mary Ann tells me it looks great. I'll have to wear it on Monday.
Monday, August 5
Whew! I'm tired but still revving and have to put this down while it's fresh.
In the morning we were kicked off the laurels we were resting upon and started to research next month's display. Since the month starts with Labor Day it seems obvious we should use that as our theme. After a lot of discussion, the four of us (we were all working together on this one) we chose the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire.
This was one of the pivotal points in the labor movement; 146 workers were killed when fire broke out at the factory. 125 of them were girls, some were as young as 15 years old. There was just one fire escape in the building. They were on the ninth floor and above; they didn't have a chance. Even though the photos are in black and white, you can appreciate the horror of it all. This is not going to be as much fun to do as the gender project. Not at all.
On a happier note, we took the afternoon off from the library and saw Audrey today. She's the nice lady that is married to Charlie the Frog Man from the 4th of July. She's also a psychiatrist and a therapist. Grandpa asked her if she would talk to us about being Angel the Girl.
I was firmly told she was not Dr. Pimm, but just plain Audrey. I suppose I was expecting a couch because the shrinks in the movies always have couches, but we just sat on some comfortable chairs and talked.
Audrey is easy to talk to, I surprised myself by telling her just about everything I was feeling without being the least embarrassed. She kind of guided the discussion so it came out in a logical way, just putting it in a sensible order makes what I'm feeling a lot clearer. Even when she asked if Mary Ann and I were having sex it didn't matter too much, not even when Mary Ann gave her some details I wouldn't have thought of.
Now that I'm writing this down, nothing much really happened. We just talked, but the talking helped. Audrey basically said not to worry too much over whether I'm a man or a woman right now, that's what she's there to help us work out. She said that for now we should just keep doing what we have been doing as long as it feels right. Next week she wants me to take some tests to clarify my gender issues, and then we'll talk again.
I feel much better, I was kind of worried about seeing a shrink, but it wasn't a problem at all.
Wednesday, August 7
Talk about role reversal: Monday I saw a psychiatrist, today I became one.
You wouldn't believe what librarians are asked to look up for our patrons. My ass pinching weightlifter was pretty tame, and yes, some old bugger did grab my tit just like Mary Ann told me would happen. I slapped him. Gently but firmly.
I can find just about anything in the library blindfolded by now. Math, historical novels, religion, books on tape, CDs and DVDs, psychics, Science Fiction (my favorite!), newspapers, murder mysteries; you name it and I can find it for you. And if we don't have it I'll show you how to get it on interlibrary loan or find it on the internet. I'll even turn off the filter if you prove you're over 18.
Then there's sex – a very popular topic. Well, why not? We wouldn't be here if we didn't have sex.
It seems that people from about 25 on up can find their own way to the areas where books on sex are kept by themselves. (Medical and self help mostly - if you want a sexy novel you're on your own.)
The people who ask about sex seem to come in two categories. There are always a few Smart Asses, those who want to embarrass the young woman sitting at the information desk. It's a good thing someone had warned me this sort of thing happens occasionally, I just looked the beggar in the eyes, smile and tell him (it's always a him) where to go.
Not like that, I firmly direct him to the proper section to answer his request, even if he wasn't really thirsting for knowledge. Guys like him must be disappointed the old Spinster Librarians aren't around anymore to pick on.
Then there are Kids. Well, that's what the staff calls them and just because I qualify doesn't stop me from using the term. For that matter, reading The Joy of Sex with Mary Ann pretty much makes me one of them!
I get the feeling that there are an awful lot of parents in the world who don't talk about sex with their kids, mine included. (It boiled down to "keep it in your pants until you're married, then you'll find out.") The more confident Kids end up in the library to check out either the basics or some of the frills.
Most of the guys have a hard time asking Angel the Girl for help. It's gotten so I can pretty much spot them, and then take a break so Chuck or one of the male staff can spell me at the information desk. There are some brave guys that do come out and ask and I try to be matter of fact in answering their questions. Funny, I only had one Kid try to come on to me using a question about sex. I guess they're really after some solid information.
Most of the girls are in the Kid category, although I have had a sprinkling of older women who are recently divorced or starting an affair. It's amazing what some people confide in a librarian! With the younger girls contraception is a big interest and I always refer them to the poster for Planned Parenthood on the bulletin board. Sometimes they ask me for personal advice and I have to be sure my professional demeanor is firmly in place. I will refer them to the proper shelves but I'm not going to be telling them what to do.
Well, until today, that is. She was very good looking, maybe twenty-two or so - enough to make Angel the Boy pop his head above the place where he usually hangs out. She was standing very straight and looking stiff as she approached the information desk. There was no one else near as she asked me for self help books on rape.
Rape.
That's an ugly word. Angel the Boy didn't feel comfortable with it, and Angel the Girl had an even harder time. One of the things I have learned is when the world thinks you're a girl you feel much more vulnerable. Rape is not something I want to think about.
"I'm not sure we have any self help books. That's something that usually needs professional help." was all I could say.
"Oh. I had hoped." Then her stiffness crumbled and she started to cry.
I was totally unprepared for it, I lost any trace of professionalism and saw only another person in deep pain who needed help. I was up and holding her as quickly as I could. She needed it, it seemed like she was close to collapse. I waved to Sally to take over the information desk and guided her to one of the little reading rooms so she could have some privacy.
It was one of the strangest yet most real experiences of my life. I had never been in such a situation before, so I just kept quiet and let her talk. I took Eve's advice from the other night and made encouraging noises until she told me what she needed to say.
I'm not going to set down any of the details, those are hers and not mine to share, but I was shocked at the brutality she related. As Angel the Boy I found it impossible to believe that a man could do such harm to a woman, to any human being, but at the same time I have never felt my own femininity more intensely than when I was listening to her story.
I didn't know what to do, but I did remember the poster for the Rape and Abuse Hotline on the bulletin board. The number was easy to remember and I made my only suggestion to her when I urged her to call them. She had a cell phone in her purse and I sat there and listened as she called them, then waited with her until a woman showed up to help.
I have never been so exhausted in my life. How can Audrey do this all day, every day? Maybe it's the training, maybe not all her patients are in so much distress, but I had a new admiration for my psychiatrist.
Thursday, August 8
After I wrote my entry last night while Mary Ann was in the shower (that's mostly when I write, she likes long showers) I told her all about it. My love for her just keeps growing, she somehow knew just how to bring me back from the agitation and, I guess, despair I was feeling. Even now I still have a hard time thinking of what that woman (I didn't ask her name) went through.
In the end we made love, quietly but passionately; the love between us helping to wash away the hurt. I just hope that my unknown woman will someday know what real love can be.
Will she ever be able to forget the violence and enjoy sex? I spent some time today reading about rape. It's a topic that I don't like, but sometimes knowledge is uncomfortable. It's at times like this I wish Eve had left that apple alone, the Knowledge of Good and Evil is has it's disadvantages.
Even for a librarian, it seems.
Friday, August 9
Came home with a load of material for the Fire display. Is it because I'm so new at femininity that I am so caught up in what happened to those poor women? The more I learn the more I need to find out. I never gave much thought to Unions before, but someone needs to keep things like this from happening again.
The sad thing is it happened again. In 1991 Twenty-five people died in a fire at the Imperial Food chicken nugget plant in Hamlet, NC. The fire doors were chained shut so the employees couldn't steal the chicken. No fire alarm, no sprinklers, and over eighty safety violations when they cleared out the bodies. Eighteen women died this time.
This is the kind of thing that makes me want to become a historian. I had never heard of Triangle Shirtwaist or Imperial Foods, but now that I know of them I'm learning about just what caused the Union movement.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
The three weeks are up! Well, close enough. This morning I took my starter earrings out of my ears (that turned out to need a pair of pliers, the things seemed to be welded together) and wore a new pair. I had gotten a special pair for the occasion, with a rainbow of small stones dangling from fine silver chains. Outrageous Earrings, Mary Ann calls them. I suppose they are, but I really like them. It's fantastic to feel the little jewels on my neck and I just love seeing them in the mirror. On me!
To celebrate we went walking in the park, just the two of us. There's something very special about walking on a fine summer day when you're wearing a skirt. Just walking is a joy, something I have come to appreciate. I love the feeling of a skirt on my legs, the weight of my breasts as I walk.
The only thing I could wish for is not to have to wear a wig, it gets hot and clammy. My real hair is getting a little longer but when you start with a brush cut it takes a long time to grow out. Not that it will grow much farther, in another few weeks I'll have to cut it off and no longer live as Angel the Girl. I don't want to think about that.
Anyway, today was just about perfect. One of the nice things about living in the Big City is that two girls can walk hand in hand and nobody seems to care, so that's what Mary Ann and I were doing. We passed a playground and sat down on a bench to watch the kids. They were having fun, screaming and swinging and just running around. It was a great way to spend time, watching those kids.
After a little while a ball came bouncing toward us and a little girl, her dark hair strung with white beads that clacked and clattered as she ran, followed it. I picked the ball up and tossed it to her and she gave me a smile that made the sun seem suddenly dim and wan.
"Thanks, lady" she said and then was off and running.
"Do you think our children will be as cute as that one?" asked Mary Ann.
"Of course they will." I answered without thinking. I knew I wanted to have children with Mary Ann.
"Then will you marry me, Angel?"
"Wait a minute, the guy is supposed to ask that question!"
"You see any guys sitting next to me? Just us women on this bench. You didn't answer the question."
"Yes, I'll marry you! I love you so much I can't find a way to say it."
Even in the big city two women kissing passionately on a playground bench attracts attention, but we really didn't care!
I wrote about our beautiful morning very carefully, because I want to be able to remember that special time whenever I go back and read this journal and capture how wonderful it was. It won't be too easy to recapture that wonderful feeling because when we turned the corner to Grandpa's place, still walking with our hands tightly clasped, I saw my folk's car in the driveway.
It took a second to realize what it was, and I distinctly remember the jerk on my arm as I stopped dead and Mary Ann kept walking. Mom was leaning over the trunk, my sister Deborah was running around the lawn and Dad was just turning from the front door. Even at this distance I could see he was upset. What were they doing here? I instinctively turned and tried to run but as I did I heard my mother's voice call "Mary Ann! There you are!"
I think I know how the Trump of Doom will sound when the End Times arrive. It's going to sound a lot like my mother's voice.
I was in a complete state of shock, all my poise and composure had fled. The euphoria of our engagement vanished. I felt Mary Ann's arm go around me and hold me steady.
"Angel, you can do this. You are strong and loving and beautiful and I love you. This is who you truly are right now and I want you to be proud of who you are. We can meet your family together and they are just going to have to accept you for who you really are."
I couldn't say anything. All I could do is stare at my family and shake. I was very thankful for Mary Ann's arm around me, I needed that. Her words slowly penetrated and I felt like some great machine coming back to life as a giant flywheel started to spin, faster and faster, until at last there was enough power to run it.
My folks still hadn't recognized me (no real surprise) and Mom and the Deborah were running down the sidewalk to greet Mary Ann. They had a head start on Dad, so he just came down the steps and waited for the advance party to return.
Mom came up and hugged Mary Ann. Then the inevitable happened.
"Where's Angel? I told him we were coming to visit when I called. He didn't forget, did he?"
One can only take so many shocks. She told me they were coming? Then I remembered the phone call, the one where Mary Ann was doing her best to distract me while I talked to my mother. She damn well succeeded, I just hadn't gotten the message that they were coming. Too late now.
I couldn't believe Mom hadn't figured out who I was. There was a tiny part of me that was pleased I was so feminine that my own mother didn't recognize me, but most of the rest of my brain was feeling pure and unadulterated guilt!
It was at that moment Mary Ann again took my hand and I felt her strength flowing into me. Miraculously my courage returned, and I felt a glow of peace that this woman loved me so much that she accepted me as I was and was ready to stand with me when the whole world fell apart. The words of the marriage vow fleeted through my mind and I knew that together we had the strength to endure this trial and be the better for it.
Maybe that's how Dad feels when he thinks God has spoken to him directly. I have never felt it before.
"I'm afraid I did forget about it, Mom"
Words fail me to describe her look. I will have it in my mind for the rest of my life, right along with the adoring look on Mary Ann's face when I said 'yes' to her just minutes before.
Mom didn't say anything, her jaw was working but nothing came out. Time seemed to slow, a tear appeared on her left eye, then another on the other side as she stared at me. She raised her hands and put them on my shoulders but still didn't say a word.
In that awkward silence I heard my little sister's voice pipe up. "Gee, you look cute Angel, but Dad's going to get awful righteous about you."
I gave her a hug. "I think you may be right. Just remember I love you, some things don't change." I looked up and continued "I love you too, Mom. I'm sorry you had to find out about me so suddenly, I was stupid not to have listened when you told me you were coming."
"But why?"
I didn't have time to answer because Dad had gotten impatient and started over, wondering just what was going on. He wasn't close enough to have heard me talking because I was speaking very quietly. He suddenly stopped dead. I had no doubt that he knew who I was; even if I don't buy his view of the world my Dad is a very intelligent man. I braced myself for the onslaught I knew was coming and held on all the tighter to Mary Ann's hand.
His face slowly became purple, he always turned that color when he was really into preaching vigorously, but still he said nothing. Then, very quietly, he said. "Maria, we're going home. There's no one here we want to visit anymore."
That was it. That's all he said. He just turned and got in the car. Mom was plainly torn, she didn't want to leave but her husband had clearly ordered her to do so. Dad is pretty strong on the wifely obedience - one of the things I have never agreed with him on.
"Go with him, Mom. We can talk when Dad cools down. Deborah, help your mother."
Thinking back I must have sounded like dad coping with an emergency, issuing orders to everyone else. Whatever it sounded like, it worked.
It probably wouldn't help Dad's disposition, but I kissed Mom and Deborah, then watched them walk back to the car. Dad pulled out of the driveway far faster than was his habit and was gone as he turned the far corner of the block. We walked the short distance to the house and went inside.
That's when I broke down. I'm glad that Angel the Girl can cry, because I really needed to. Mary Ann held me until I cried myself out. That's about all I can put down now.
It still hurts.
Sunday, August 11
It's 6:00 in the morning and I can't sleep. Big surprise. I tried calling home last night but only got the voice mail. I felt foolish leaving a message but I had to do it. No one's called back.
Emotional roller coaster. I never really appreciated that phrase until today. Can an angry young man dress up as a woman as a form of defiance? The very first thing I did when I got out of bed was put on my bra and put the forms in it. Before Mary Ann was awake, before I had any coffee, before I even peed I told the world that Angel the Woman is here to stay.
Woman. Not girl. Woman. Adult. All night I had dreamed of a scene from one of Heinlein's novels where the son defies his father, and the father's response is this: you've defied me and made it stick - you're in charge of your life from now on, not me.
I had challenged Dad and his view of the world. I hadn't intended to do it but the challenge was inevitable from the moment I put on a bra for the first time. From the moment I started living as a girl. Now I was going to live as a woman, making my own decisions and taking the consequences. Just me and Mary Ann.
(Sunday Evening)
The roller coaster is still running, but it stopped long enough to let Audrey on for a little while. The Grandpa Network must be very effective because just after lunch Audrey came over to the house. I don't believe for a minute that it was just a social call but I'm glad I could talk to her.
Just me and her this time, Mary Ann insisted. Audrey is a very calming person to talk to, I ranted and raved and moaned and cried and let my emotions take over completely. Well, that's what the stereotype says about women, so why not use it? Cynical, aren't I?
But I did let out the hard stuff and then Audrey was able to calmly help me see what was going on and gently point me in the right direction to live with my dual selves. She helped me define what I wanted to be as a woman and what I wanted to be as a man, then helped me see that there is a great deal of overlap between he two.
Do I really want to live my life as a woman? Audrey tells me it's too soon to make a permanent decision about that. Most of her patients have been struggling with their gender for a long time but I've just started. She told me I clearly fall under the diagnosis "Gender Dysphoria" but she wasn't ready to go any farther at this time.
I guess I'm not either.
When Audrey left, Mary Ann and Eve and Grandpa stayed close to me and tried to make me feel better. Not anything blatant, but they were just there for me if I needed them. And I do need them. A lot.
Still no answer on my folk's phone, just "leave a message at the beep." I already did that.
Monday, August 12
A normal day, nothing special happened, which is a victory in itself. I even managed to forget about Dad for minutes at a time while I was working. I borrowed Jenny's cell phone and called home, hoping Mom would answer but still got the damned answering machine.
It was a good thing I had a visit to Audrey scheduled already. She is a very understanding person and helped me try to cope with disaster. She also sent me to get some blood drawn just to see what my hormone levels were. At least getting stuck and watching my own blood go down that little tube and into a vial took my mind off my misery.
One Day At A Time. It's harder than it sounds.
Tuesday, August 13
Chuck was awfully sweet today. He had noticed how distracted I was and took me aside to ask if he could help. I couldn't tell him the truth but I did say I was having trouble with my Dad and he seemed to understand. I guess you don't have to wonder if you're a girl to have family problems. Anyway, we just talked for a little while and he tried to make me feel better.
What I realize now, after thinking about it, is that I reacted to him as if I were a real woman. It was completely natural. There were no overtones of sex at all, just a friend comforting a friend. It made no difference we were supposed to be opposite sexes.
So now I feel good that I have a friend who isn't scheming to get me into bed. And I feel good that I feel so comfortable being a woman around Chuck. It's only when I stop to think about it that I realize how natural it has become to react like a woman.
It's nice to have friends who care.
Wednesday, August 14
There was a fat envelope from Dad waiting for me when I got home. I sat at the kitchen table and opened it, hoping it would be some sort of invitation to talk, but was disappointed. There was a note and two envelopes. The note read
You have betrayed your family and your God. May the Lord in His mercy forgive you, I can not. My son is dead and I will not mourn him.
I just broke down and cried. Mary Ann hugged me as I wept and pretty soon I felt another hand on my back as Grandpa joined us. Eventually I stopped crying and Grandpa looked at the papers on the table.
"May I?"
"Of course." I replied.
So he looked at the first envelope and found my college application papers, FAFSA and loan application, all neatly torn in half.
"It looks like you and my granddaughter aren't going to have to conduct a long distance romance after all. Can't say I'm sorry, I would have missed you when you had to leave. It's too bad it had to happen this way, but you have a home here with Eve and me for as long as you want to stay."
So I started crying again. I never understood happy tears before today.
When I stopped crying again I opened the second envelope. In it were my birth certificate and a cashier's check. A big one. My grandparents (Mom's folks) had set up educational trust funds for me and my sister and this was the result.
"Well child," Grandpa commented, "Money doesn't cure the pain but at least you have a running start for college. We'll have to move pretty quickly but I suppose we still have time to get you into the community college since you have all the financial forms taken care of. Your dad tore up your copies, but the originals are still filed in a government warren someplace at an undisclosed location. He can't change that.
"If you want my advice, put this check into the bank leave most of it for emergencies. Since you're living with us you don't have to worry about room and board and your scholarship and loan money should cover your books and tuition. You should have no trouble paying that off when you graduate. As long as you're careful, that college fund should let you buy the little things any student needs, as long as you stay out of the bars. "
It was all too much, I couldn't find any words but I didn't need any.
One Day At A Time. Some days are better than others.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Had another session with Audrey today. No tears and heavy stuff this time, but more "What do I do from here?" Somehow when I talk to Audrey I have to get things straight in my mind so I can tell her about them. She knows the right question to ask when I run dry and she's helping me.
My blood work came back and I appear to be normal. Hah! Well, I do have low testosterone, low normal, but low. Audrey says I may appreciate that when I get older because I may not go bald. Testosterone is what gives men erections and muscles and such, but it is also one of the reasons men go bald if they have too much of it. I guess if I can get an erection for Mary Ann I must have enough of it to get by.
Today we talked about the physical side of staying Angel the Woman. The low testosterone might be why I don't have to shave so much. It could start to happen one of these days, though. She gave me the name of an electrologist to consult, but warned me not to do anything permanent quite yet. Strictly to learn what was involved so I could make an informed choice.
She asked and it seems that male puberty has been very kind to me. My voice didn't change all that much and I didn't end up with bulging muscles. Thanks to my Hispanic heritage I have a face that doesn't scream 'male' or 'female.' With long hair, some jewelry and a little makeup I do look like a girl. I got told that innumerable times in high school by the jocks, but since I didn't want to be a jock I just ignored it. The friends I had just didn't care.
I asked but no, she wouldn't consider referring me to anyone for real breasts.
One Day At A Time.
Then there's the problem of attending school as Angel the Woman. I wasn't worried about the bathrooms because I have been using the lady's room for some time now and no one has figured out I wasn't qualified to use the place. The problem was gym class. You have to take gym class and I wasn't going to be able to pull that off!
So she pulls this riff on me. She asks if I've ever seen the Wizard of Oz, and I say "Who hasn't." So she starts doing the Wizard bit.
"Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain. As for you, my genderized friend, you want some breasts. You don't know how lucky you are not to have them. What you have is a brain, and you are headed for a university, a seat of great learning, where women go to become great thinkers. And when they come out, they think deep thoughts with no more brains than you have. So to get your diploma you will need a letter!"
She stared at me, inviting the question. So I obliged her.
"A letter?"
"A letter stating I am treating you for gender dysphoria and they had better treat you as a woman and make accommodation for your diagnosis or I'll send the Wicked Witch of Publicity after them unless they let you substitute basket weaving for field hockey or some such. Lets you use the lady's room without worrying about it, too."
"I already do that."
"Yes, but you can't go home to Kansas again and this will help. Believe me, somewhere along the line someone will ask some awkward questions. Best to be prepared for them. When you get to the college admissions department ask for Gail Savoy. She's familiar with the issues involved and will help you out."
"Yes, oh great and wonderful Wizard!"
"Good, that's settled. Remember, no permanent changes in your body until you have a good deal more time living as a woman. No drugs, no hormones, no surgery.
"I don't want to be crass," she continued, "but we need to talk about money. I want you to keep seeing me on a regular basis and I would assume your father will try to remove you from his health insurance. I don't think he can do it, but you never know. That shouldn't be too much of a problem because I do work at the college and can continue to see you on a routine basis as a student without bankrupting you.
"Should this progress to making some fundamental changes in your body it probably wouldn't be covered by insurance anyway, so that is not an immediate concern. I want to warn you that just about everything connected with any form of transition is going to run into large sums of money. We'll talk about that when the time comes, if it ever does. For now I think you will be content to be Angel the Girl for some time to come, but that's up to you. Just be honest with me and we will deal with the issues as they come up."
"Wouldn't it be easier for the Wizard to wave a magic wand and do away with all the complications of reality?"
"Like I said before - 'Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.' Find me a wizard and I'll consult with him, otherwise, come see me in another two weeks unless something drastic happens. Meantime, just enjoy being a girl."
I fully intended to follow her advice.
Friday, August 16
I took the day off from the library, but it wasn't any vacation. I spent the whole day on the phone or at the computer or wandering around the community college. Calling my high school for a transcript, changing my FAFSA so I am an independent student, even calling my old doctor to prove I have a meningitis vaccination. Bureaucracy at it's slowest!
I spent the rest of my time wandering from office to office at the community college, trying to register at the last minute. Gail was as nice as Audrey said she would be. She read the letter and gave me an appraising look, then matter of factly gave me the rundown on the school's policy for transgendered students. Seems I wasn't the first to go there. Everything's tentative but I am now a Liberal Arts major, or will be when the proper paperwork arrives. They didn't have a History major, which is where I eventually want to go, but I was planning to do my first two years at a community college before transferring, so that is fine.
It would be nicer to go to the same school with Mary Ann, but there's no way I'm going to get into the University in time. It wasn't that long ago that I was worrying about being miles away from Mary Ann and now I'm carping because we are living together but going to different schools. Some people just can't be satisfied.
Saturday, August 17
We went ring shopping today. Engagement ring shopping, that is. With the crisis after I had said 'yes' we hadn't had time to look for a ring, but today we made time.
I hadn't considered what would happen when two women went shopping for an engagement ring. The reactions were interesting, some stores took it as an opportunity to sell two rings (which we couldn't afford), some just showed us what they had and one of them was snotty as hell. They didn't get our business.
Mary Ann likes emeralds so we didn't look for diamonds, much to the merchant's dismay. We tramped all over and would you believe we found the ring at Sears? Don't tell anybody, it just doesn't sound right to get your engagement ring from a chain store.
It is a pretty ring, though. It has to be sized, so we have to wait until it's ready on Thursday. To make up for it we bought matching sets of earrings. I hadn't realized how much fun it is to have pierced ears. Not only do I get to pick out a bra and panty in some nice color each morning, but I get to decide which earrings to wear. I just didn't know what Angel the Boy was missing.
Glad I found out.
Sunday, August 18
Mom called today. When I heard her voice I started crying again.
What is it with all the crying? I didn't used to cry at the drop of a hat. I don't think it's the 'boys don't cry' thing, not really. In talking with Audrey I have realized that I had been hiding a lot of my emotions from myself. As I have grown to question my Dad's rigid views of the world I have had to hide that questioning from him and my family.
Being disowned pretty much proves I was right to be hiding my questions, but now that it is out in the open I am starting to deal with my emotions. Is that feminine? I really hope it isn't. It ought to be just plain human.
Talking to Mom was wonderful and terrible at the same time. I wanted to hear her voice, to try and explain what had happened to me, to tell her I loved her. Funny thing was, she wanted to do the same thing. I tried as best as I could, but I know she didn't really understand. I told her about our transgender project for the library and gave her the titles of a couple of books she could read. She wasn't sure that she could do it until Dad calmed down.
"He's hurting Angel, but he won't admit it. I can't talk to him right now, he won't listen. I tried to get him to talk to Rev. Tally but he won't go, he's too embarrassed to let anyone know about you."
"I'm sorry Mom. I didn't want to hurt anyone. I just found out I needed something that I didn't have to be a whole person."
"I... I hope you find what you need, Angel. I love you and your Dad does too. Someday he'll realize that."
We talked more, I told her about school and staying with Grandpa, all the little things in life. When I was able to get past the strain it was lovely to have a mother-daughter talk. It was kind of like the way we talked before, but there was a difference, at least for me.
I wasn't even embarrassed when she asked about my breast forms, although talking with my mother about stuffing my bra has to be one of the strangest things I have ever done. She couldn't figure out how I was able to look like I had breasts. Mom is a little naive.
Monday, August 19
The last week of internship has arrived. Funny how it seems like I've been here forever. Chuck is going off to Berkeley, Beth to Buffalo State and Mary Ann and I are staying here. Nothing much has changed, I still want to invent that book shelving machine. Maybe I should go into engineering instead of history. Nah, I hate math. Is that why I feel so happy as a woman. Is that sexist to ask?
Who cares?
The display on the Triangle Fire is just about done, with four of us it went a lot faster. There are plenty of books in our holdings and even some original materials like contemporary papers on Microfilm. The project has grown and now includes more material on the Union movement in general. Grandpa has taken an interest in the project and has that look like something big is hatching in his brain.
He won't tell us what it is, though.
We're planning a party on Thursday for one last lunch together. For some strange reason known to those sitting at some desk in a deep, dark corner of the library the internship ends Thursday, not Friday. So all the people who can get away will be joining us for lunch, including Grandpa.
It used to be that I was hoping that day wouldn't come because it meant the end of Angel the Girl. Angel the Woman took care of that and even through all the hurt I'm glad that I can stay what I've become. Who knows what it will be like in the future, but for now it's the right thing to do.
Wednesday, August 21
Only one more day until the ring is ready. In one way I'm happy that it won't come until after the internship because it would require a whole lot of explanation of who Mary Ann is engaged to. Since Grandpa still works at the library that might yet prove embarrassing. Not that Grandpa would care, but why make life more complicated than it is already?
But I really wish I could see their faces when they saw the ring.
Thursday, August 22
The lunch was great, everyone had a fine time and I got a small case of the sniffles. I got hugged by more men in that hour than have hugged me in the entire rest of my life. For that matter I hugged more women than I have in the entire rest of my life. I'm going to miss them all.
Grandpa revealed his surprise at the lunch. The Liar's Club is supposed to be marching in the Labor day Parade and he has decided that the story of the Triangle Fire would make a very fitting theme. Since most of the victims were young, his idea is to have us dress up in period costume and play the part. He and his cronies (and Chuck) will dress as the Robber Barons who owned the factory. The material we collected for the display will be adapted and we will hand it out along the parade route. He called it hiding education behind theater.
I had to ask why the Liar's Club was involved. Why, the Club was all about telling a good story. Just because the story happened to be true made no difference. Besides, all of his stories were the absolute truth anyway.
How could we resist?
I could hardly wait for the day to end so we could get the ring. We had agreed to keep it in its box until we could bring it home and show Grandpa and Eve when I put it on her hand. Kind of silly, but it felt right.
We got home and invited Grandpa and Eve into the living room and I knelt down and put the ring on her finger. It didn't matter if I was wearing a skirt when I did it, some things you should do in the traditional way. The emerald gleamed in the light from the big bay window.
Then I got a surprise. Mary Ann opened her purse and took out a small, velvet covered box. With a huge grin she knelt in front of me and put an engagement ring on my finger. Grandpa was beaming with a 20,000 watt smile on his face.
"Angel, I gave that ring to Sylvia more years ago than I want to remember, and she wore it until she passed on. I had planned to have one of my grandsons give it to their lady, but it seems very right that you should wear it now. When people say things like 'she would have approved' it's usually a load of crap, but I think some of Sylvia's spirit has settled in your being, as silly as that sounds."
What could I do? I kissed him, and Eve and Mary Ann and I would have kissed anybody walking down the street if I had the chance.
"It fits!" was all I could say.
"Of course," Mary Ann replied. "Why do you think I had I had them measure your finger when we were finding my ring?"
"Grandpa, how can I marry someone as devious as she is?"
"You normally do it by saying 'I Do' when the right person asks you."
"I'm glad you cleared that up. I guess it's OK to marry you then, lover."
"Whew!" I've never seen a more theatrical sigh than my darling gave me. "I was afraid I was going to have to trick you into getting matching wedding dresses. Now we can just go shopping together."
But the theatrics weren't over yet. We started to sit down but we were startled to see Grandpa kneel in front of Eve.
"Eve, my darling, I'm afraid this old coot has had to have his grandchildren remind him about just what love really is. It's not just about two people, but it includes family and the whole community. I can never forget Sylvia but I love you with all my heart and soul. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife and telling the entire world we are in love?"
"Earle!"
"Yes, darling?"
"Earle, that's my line, you old coot. Yes, darling, of course I'll marry you, if only to watch the faces of your friends who you told you would never marry again. You may have to resign as President of the Liar's Club."
"What difference would it make? You're next in line, anyway."
He reached in his pocket and pulled out the evening's third little velvet covered box. "I hope you don't mind me choosing this ring without you, but I think I know your tastes well enough by now to please you."
He handed her the box and she opened it. Of course we all had to admire the ring as he placed it on her finger.
"Earle, you may pretend to be an old curmudgeon but you are a sentimental old fool." She held up her hand to the light. "It's a good thing I love sentimental old fools. I just wish I had a surprise to pull on you, but I think there have been enough for one night. I want to go to bed and celebrate our engagement."
"I knew I was going to marry a practical woman. Good night, children."
They left. So what else could we do but go to bed and celebrate ourselves?
Friday, August 23
The paperwork is done, I'm an official student and have my courses lined up. One week of vacation and then school starts. The only problem I see is that I'm going to have to dress down when I go or I'm going to stand out. I didn't see very many women in skirts when I visited the campus, but there are still a few who wear them. I guess I'm going to have to do a balancing act between my love of skirts and normal women's love of slacks. After dressing as a young professional all summer it's going to be quite a change.
One thing for sure, I'm going to stay away from jeans, I'll be damned if I'm going to wear that padded panty all day. It's fun on special occasions, but not every day. I think I look pretty good in a T-shirt and skirt, and I don't intend to bare my belly button even if I like to look at girls who do. I hope it gets cool sooner than normal, I like wearing shorts but Angel the Woman isn't so good looking in them. My lack of hips is all too obvious.
After the paperwork runaround at school we went to a movie to celebrate our vacation, and I'm going to stop writing now since Mary Ann wants to do some celebrating in bed.
Bye!
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Mom called again today. This time her voice was not as strained, for that matter neither was mine. We just chatted, nothing special. She got a great laugh out of Grandpa proposing to Eve and even took my wearing Sylvia's engagement ring better than I expected.
I got the feeling she was working up to saying something as we lingered on the line. Finally she asked "Angel, do you have plans for the holiday weekend?"
"We're marching in the Labor Day Parade with the Liar's Club on Monday, but otherwise we haven't any real plans."
"I would like to come and visit with you."
"I'd like that too, Mom. What are you going to do about Dad?"
"I'm very much afraid he will be vexed with me."
"And I thought Grandpa Wilson was a master of understatement!"
"I suppose that's true. He was very angry when I told him I was going to visit you. He is still very confused and angry."
"I'm sorry, Mom."
"Don't say you're sorry, darling. You are following where the Lord is leading you, just as he is. It's not your fault if you are following separate paths to salvation. I can't say I understand your choices, but I did go to the library and read some of the books you told me about. While your father was at work, of course."
"Do you hide them under the mattress like I used to hide the books I didn't want you to see?"
"Of course not. I found those books of yours when I made the bed and talked to Rev. Tally about them. He told me that even though reading them could be considered a sin, most young boys had to try sinning a time or two just to see what it was like. He told me that you would tire of them pretty quickly and he was right."
"How in the world did I ever think I could hide anything from you, Mother?"
"You can't, darling. Mother knows."
"More than I thought, apparently."
"Of course!"
"So - what did you think?"
"I think I will reserve judgment until I can read a bit more. Then I'll ask God for guidance and accept His will."
"Then I'll wait until we can talk some more. It will be really good to see you again, Mom."
"I think it will be nice to meet my new daughter and get to know her. And Mary Ann, too. Just what do I call you two if you're engaged and both look like women?"
"How about Mary Ann and Angel?"
"I guess I had that coming. I love you, Angel. Give my love to Mary Ann and her grandparents. I'll be there on Saturday."
"We'll have a room waiting for you. And by the way, you're invited to join us in the parade, you'll love your costume!"
"Costume? Angel, what are your planning? How will you know my sizes"
"Well, I did wear your clothes when you weren't home sometimes."
"You didn't! My clothes?"
"I'm afraid so. They didn't fit too well."
"Enough! I think I've had enough shocks for one day. I'm going to hang up and try to get some rest."
"I love you, Mom.
"I love you too, Angel"
Wednesday, August 28
I know I haven't written in a while, but that's because nothing much happened. We're taking advantage of a week with nothing to do by doing nothing.
Today we had the fitting for our costumes. I have never been to a costume shop before, I never knew something like this existed. They have enough stock to clothe a small country in the 3rd world. Naturally they're completely authentic (Grandpa's cronies do things right, as I saw on the 4th of July) and I learned that wearing a girdle is a picnic compared to wearing a corset. How did they breathe? How did they work 10 and 12 hour days wearing one of those things?
For authentic 1911 underwear you start with a pair of 'drawers', which aren’t nearly as nice as modern panties. They cover you from waist to knees, and then the camisole covers you from the waist upward. That layer protects your skin when you put on the corset and have someone squeeze all the air out of your lungs. Then you get someone to tie it up in back so you can't get it off by yourself.
I discovered I have a real problem wearing authentic lingerie. They didn't have bras back then, they weren't invented until 1913. The corset sort of acted as a shelf for your breasts and then you covered them up with layers and layers of camisoles and chemises and such, enough to need an engineering drawing to figure out what goes where.
When you're all done you get the 'one lumpy breast' look you see in the pictures from the era. I cheated and left my bra on for the fitting. The guy who did the fitting us didn't comment on the breast forms or anything else he saw. Professionalism, I guess that's called.
I'm going to have to get a lightweight bra for the parade. I've been wearing what you might call heavy duty bras, not like Mary Ann's sexy things, so that my breast forms won't fall out. Real breasts would be so nice. Sigh!
So anyway, after all those layers came more layers of petticoats and finally the skirt and blouse. If I were going to be a higher-class woman of the era I could wear a beautiful, full dress, but I'm going to be a working girl. That means an ankle length, full dark skirt and a white blouse with poufy long sleeves and a high collar. Some of them even wore narrow little ties but I gave up ties when I decided to be Angel the woman.
If I thought the lacing was over when they finished with my corset I was wrong. The boots went practically to my knees and I couldn't lace them because I couldn't bend over in the corset. It took half an hour to get undressed and it's a team project; you can't do it by yourself.
Friday, August 30
So what if we're officially done with the internship? We all came in anyway and set up our display so it was ready for the weekend. Books and pictures in the display case, even an authentic reproduction shirtwaist, which is nothing more than a tailored blouse, on a mannequin. There were several stacks of handouts, a pile of Union bumper stickers that we had gotten from the local Labor Council and Internet references. Pretty good, even if I do say so myself.
Saturday, August 31
This morning I was as nervous as a cat. I changed outfits three times, trying to find something that would look nice for my mother but wasn't too feminine. Being the weekend it should be casual but with Mom coming I wanted to look dressy. But I didn't want to wear anything she wouldn't approve of. Stupid, huh? No matter what I wore she wasn't going to be happy, not unless I decided to return to being Angel the Boy.
Too late for that. I'm committed, but I still kept worrying. Mary Ann finally chased me out of the bedroom and told me I looked just fine. The day had turned cool so I finally settled on a maroon corduroy skirt and a knobbly brown sweater. Mary Ann told me I was silly to wear stockings and flats but Mom never liked it when girls who wore sneakers and socks with their skirts. She says if they're going to take the trouble to look like a lady they should finish the job.
Somehow I don't think she had me in mind when she said that.
I've gotten pretty good at styling my wigs and spent a lot of time putting my hair up, then decided I looked more feminine with it down, so I put it back down. I chose a pair of earrings with crystal hearts dangling from a gold chain. I think they compliment the diamond in my engagement ring nicely. Anyway, I couldn't change them without Mary Ann giving me grief.
Mary Ann wore a skirt and sweater too, in a gold color, but she wore her sneakers and socks. Well, Mom is going to have other things to look at today, I doubt she'll give much thought to Mary Ann's choice of footwear.
Mom arrived this afternoon. It was awkward at first, but Grandpa and Eve made her welcome and turned on their charm full blast. She still looks at me with a puzzled face, we both have a lot of adjusting to do. I think it bothers her when Mary Ann and I hug or kiss. I hadn't thought of that ahead of time. It seems so natural to hug her, but to Mom it must look like we're lesbians. We agreed to keep it very low key when Mom was around, but we were not going to hide our love either. Not that we could.
We settled Mom in the spare room that used to hold Sylvia's things. What I haven't used had been given to the Salvation Army or Goodwill so it's pretty much empty.
Mary Ann and I cooked dinner tonight - as fancy as we could come up with. I hope Mom was being truthful when she said she loved it. Grandpa and Eve were appreciative, so I guess we did a pretty good job. Eve says the true test of love is cooking in the same kitchen and still liking each other after dinner. We passed test.
We made it through the evening without so much as a word about gender one way or another. Grandpa is a master at stimulating and controlling the conversation, a skill honed over many years presiding over the Liar's Club. By the time he got done telling the story of my first encounter with Mr. Pymm. Mom was laughing along with the rest of us. The way he told it was even funnier than when it happened.
Eventually we were all yawning mightily, so we headed for the bedrooms. As Mary Ann went into our bedroom I could tell Mom had something she wanted to say but it was clear she was having a hard time saying it.
"You have that look that says you need to say something. Go ahead and say it."
"Angel, I'll only say this once and I won't say it again. You are an adult now and can make your own decisions, but I am disappointed that you chose not to wait until you were married before you had relations with Mary Ann. Jesus tells us not to judge others and I'm trying to follow His word, but I wanted you to know how I felt. I love you, but sometimes it can be difficult."
I just hugged her and told her I loved her. This time I didn't apologize, I'd done that enough already. You have to live with the choices you make in life. I'm sure I am making the right choice, but that doesn't mean it is easy.
Sunday, September 1
Mary Ann and I went to church with Mom this morning. I haven't been since I left home, and it was a strange experience. I suspect is was just as strange for Mary Ann, but she's not saying much about it right now. Mostly because she doesn't want to hurt my feelings, I think.
I enjoyed dressing up in my 'Sunday Best', something I had never experienced when I had to wear a suit to church. I decided on one of Sylvia's simple business suits with a modest skirt and white blouse. Simple pearl earrings (not real pearls!) and matching necklace and black flats. Mom wore almost the same outfit, but she had real pearls. She hadn't noticed I had pierced my ears but since I wore a short wig she couldn't help but notice them that morning. We got a good laugh out of the situation and she even commented about how well her daughter had learned from her mother.
Daughter. We're still tentative, but there's hope.
In some ways it felt good, an old familiar place even if the building was one I had never been in before. I found I can't sing too well in my Angel the Woman voice, I can't get up high enough on some of the hymns. Poor Mary Ann, she was completely lost since she doesn't go to church but Mom and I knew all the hymns. The sermon was rather anemic, Rev. Tally is a much better speaker, but to my surprise I enjoyed the service.
I guess you can't just abandon everything in your life so easily. I can question what Dad has thinks, what the Church told me, what Society says about what men and women should be like, but I'm coming to realize that there is some good buried among the bull. Grandpa says that's what they call maturity.
We went to the movies and out to dinner, nothing special except that Mom is starting to treat me like someone who won't break if she acts naturally. Mary Ann and I often pass a little comment to each other when some situation would be funny if anyone knew I wasn't really a woman, and Mom seems to have picked up on that and threw a couple of zingers at me.
It's nice to be loved as a real person. I hope Dad sees that sometime.
Monday, September 2, 2013
Labor day. Time for the big parade.
We were up early to get ready for the parade. The living room was full of boxes and hangers containing the costumes when my fellow workers arrived promptly at 8:00 AM to get dressed. Jenny and Beth from the library were part of the group, as well as Audrey.
Every time I think I've gotten the hang of being a woman something comes along to remind me that it's only been a few weeks. I hadn't really realized what it would be like with six women all putting on antique clothing in the living room. (We had banished Grandpa to the Pymm's place where he was donning his costume.) In fact, It didn't occur to me that I was going to be in the middle of a crowd of half dressed women, one of them my mother and another my psychiatrist, until it was too late.
I should have figured it out, having participated in many mass migrations to the lady's room over the summer but when they all started taking off their clothes I was in what could be called a 'delicate situation'. Jenny and Beth didn't know I was not what I seemed and then there was my mother. In a few minutes the etiquette of the situation was going to call for her to take off her underwear with her son standing there, even if I did look like her daughter.
Audrey is a quick thinker and saved the day. I tried not to stare too much as she stood there with her blouse in her hands. "Darn, this camisole is a little too big. I need a safety pin. Angel, could you help me find one?"
Whew! I picked up my drawers and camisole and took her to the spare room with me.
"Take your time, Angel, and let the others get past the embarrassing part. I think your mother was more than a little bit nervous."
"Her and me both! Thanks, Audrey. You saved the day."
"We all have our secrets. I'll turn around so you can put those things on."
I did so. I cheated and kept my padded panties on so I had some hips for the corset to cover. I was wearing the lightest weight bra I could find to keep my forms in place. I hoped it would work because I didn't want them falling out while a million parade watchers were looking on. Once again I was dreaming of having real breasts.
"Are you ready? I don't think I have ever encountered a situation like this with a client, and heaven help me if the medical society finds out. Since I knew you before you started seeing me professionally I'll plead temporary insanity. With Earle and my husband involved it ought to be a believable defense."
We returned to chaos. Even after a professional fitting nobody was all that sure of how to lace up the corsets, and my poor mother didn't even have the advantage of a fitting. Mom was holding up the corset and Mary Ann was struggling with the laces, which seemed to go on forever. Jenny had just about gotten Beth into her corset and Beth was trying to settle her breasts comfortably in the garment. If I was interested in exploring femininity I sure was getting a lesson today.
"You first, Angel." Audrey handed me my corset. "Let's not make it too tight so we can walk the entire parade without fainting. The poor women who had to wear these things all the time were always fainting because they couldn't get enough air!"
I stepped into the loosely laced corset and pulled it up. Settling it beneath my forms, I had visions of pythons in the Amazon as she tightened the laces until I was standing very straight indeed. Audrey stepped into her corset, looking just like those turn of the century corset ads I had been seeing as we put together the display. I started pulling laces rather tentatively, but she urged me to greater efforts and eventually she was cinched up.
It was about then we realized we should have put on our boots first. I suppose the women who actually wore these clothes every day would have thought us hilarious, but we eventually managed to help each other into our footwear with a great deal of giggling.
Once again the strange became commonplace, we were just a bunch of women helping each other and I was just one of the group. The dresses were buttoned (no zippers - they hadn't been invented yet) and wigs settled in place. If you've seen pictures from that era, women kept their hair long but wore it up, often elaborately braided. Other than my mother, who often wears her hair that way the group had shorter hair, the wigs were needed.
Speaking of short hair, my real hair caused a bit of comment, especially from Beth.
"Angel! What happened to your hair!" she sounded horrified. Fortunately, one of the stories I had told Mom the other night was about Jenny asking about my wig and my excuse for having short hair.
"That's my fault, Beth." Mom came to my rescue. "I'm afraid we tried a home permanent for graduation and I did something horribly wrong."
"Aw, Mom! It's not your fault."
"Well, in time I hope to see your hair looking just like it always has." She even said it with a straight face.
Mom insisted on doing makeup for me and Mary Ann. Mom got a case of the giggles and had to stop several times or she would have drawn a black line down my cheek or something. At least she thought it was funny, that's a lot better than Dad's opinion. I still don't want to think about that.
Somehow we finished by 10:30, just in time to leave. I was glad it was a cool day because I was very well insulated when we were dressed.
Walking the parade was fun. We worker ladies handed out literature describing the fire and the need for unions while Grandpa and Chuck and Mr. Pymm played the Big Bad Bosses. They were cool - pinstriped suits with huge gold watch chains, fake cigars and those funny hats men used to wear. Grandpa looked dashing with his Snidely Whiplash mustache. (A classic villain from the period - I even looked it up without asking Grandpa.). The men had manacles dangling from their hands as they attempted to chain us women, who valiantly fought them off as we handed out our literature.
We walked along with a float depicting the fire, with painted flames billowing from open windows on each side of the float. One side even had a woman half out the window with the flames licking at her hands. Whoever did the art was very good, it scared the hell out of you to think of what those women must have gone through.
We were quite a hit, lots of applause from the crowds. Quite a way to end the summer.
The end of summer, but a beginning of a new life. Walking in the parade today I realized that I wasn't Angel the Man or Angel the Woman but Angel the Person. The costume was turn of the century, but I was living life as the way it made sense to me.
I don't know what will happen when I start school on Wednesday, or when Mary Ann and I get married, or when the next problem occurs, but I have love and support and the faith to be what I really am. It doesn't matter if that's not quite the way it has always been done.
Dad says God doesn't make mistakes. I'm not sure I believe in Him any more, but I do believe I'm not making a mistake in living my life the way I am.
I enjoy being a girl!
Wednesday, September 4
I'm not sure I don't want to be back in high school. High school had one big advantage - it was in one building and wasn't spread out over a large campus. So there I was on my first day, map in one hand, schedule in the other and wishing Mary Ann was with me.
I was a little nervous, this was the first time I had been out alone as Angel the Girl for more than a few minutes. Mary Ann or Grandpa or Eve had always come with me if we were going somewhere.
Nobody planned it that way, that's just the way it happened. Besides, I like spending time with Mary Ann. It's going to be weird to be going to different schools and doing different things all day from now on.
After more than a few minutes of wandering around, lost in spite of my map, I began to regret not listening to Mary Ann. I was comfortable as Angel the Girl after a couple of months being her, but I was still new at the whole scene of presenting as a woman. Girl. Whatever.
I have to admit I pattern my taste in clothes largely after my mother - what daughter doesn't? - at least before the rebellious stage sets in. Mom always wore dresses or skirts. Dad thinks that's how a proper woman dresses and I think she really does enjoy wearing dresses and skirts.
Obviously, so do I.
Also obviously, not many of the girls on campus do. I kind of stand out in my lemon yellow blouse and orange striped skirt. After the summer as an intern I had gotten used to dressing as a young professional, not the done thing on campus. Wearing pantyhose and moderate heels was not one of my better decisions.
Mary Ann had tried to warn me. She was wearing sneakers and socks for her first day at the University. My mother's abhorrence of sneakers with a skirt is still too strong in my mind, I just don't want to do it.
I now know better, tomorrow I'll be more practical. Tomorrow I will try to blend in. Today I'm wishing my feet didn't hurt.
There was another advantage to high school, Mary Ann was there with me. Now she was at the 4-year University while I was a last-second student at the community college.
Things changed a whole lot over the summer. Mary Ann and I are living with her Grandfather. We had done an internship at the library that was very rewarding, had met the members of The Liar's Club (Grandpa was the Liar-in-chief). I had gotten engaged to Mary Ann and my father had disowned me, trashing my college plans. Oh yeah - I graduated high school as a boy I matriculated in college as a co-ed, which was why my father had disowned me.
Maybe I should go into a little more detail. After all, the class I was wandering around campus to find was English Literature, and the professor seems to be big on reading for comprehension and trying to extract the more subtle levels of meaning from the writing.
Subtle point 1: the word co-ed. Having discovered I am far more comfortable presenting as a female, I have become very conscious of how sexism is inherent in our language. Having been thoroughly indoctrinated into doing the research when you have a question after my summer as a library intern, I naturally looked up the word.
Not much information there. The dictionary says co-ed is short for co-educational. You would think that 'co-educational' would be a gender neutral term; both males and females are students, right?
Nope. Co-ed only applies to the female student. Subtle implication of language: being male is the norm, the standard by which all things are judged. Education is the default for the male, the female needs to be separated and compared to the male.
Horse-pucky! I defy you to differentiate horse-pucky from a female horse as opposed to horse-pucky from a male horse unless you were there to observe its emergence from the horse and had time to see what's under the horse's belly.
Unsurprisingly, the term dates from the 1880s when sexism was the done thing. If firemen are now firefighters and policemen are now police officers, then why can't people use the perfectly gender-neutral term student? I've lost count of the times I was referred to as a co-ed during the day.
The whole horse-pucky bit brings me to subtle point 2 by three distinct paths. 1) my father, 2) foul language and 3) what's under the horse.
Path 1 - I love my father but he is a religious fanatic and a very rigid man. He knows what's right because the Lord told him so. Finding me presenting as a woman was the reason I got disowned. Fortunately, I'm not homeless because my fiancee's Grandfather is happy to have both Mary Ann and Angel (that's me) live with him and his fiancee, Eve.
Path 2 - foul language. After a summer without my father's 'guidance' I am more comfortable with foul language, but I spent eighteen years being told not to swear or use the Lord's name in vain. (There is a difference - look it up if you don't believe me.) Where my fellow interns would have called the whole thing bullshit or more likely fucking bullshit, I sort of default to 'horse-pucky.' Force of habit.
Path 3 - what's under the horse. I despair of trying to get my father to believe there is a difference between sex and gender. My in-home sex education pretty much consisted of an admonition to 'keep it in your pants until you're married.'
That didn't work too well, Mary Ann and I had removed our pants and fornicated before we graduated high school. On her aunt's living room sofa if you must know.
He would call it 'fornication' but we much prefer 'making love.' Not that we haven't indulged in some pretty urgent sex, but it is always based in our love for each other. We've even tried a couple of rather kinky things after Grandpa turned us onto The Joy Of Sex.
The possibility of my father using the word 'penis' to describe what's under a horse is less than a snowball's chance in the Hell he so loves to preach about. He obviously made love to my mother at least twice as there are two children, but mention of how babies are conceived is not a topic to bring up lightly in my family.
If he knew that Mary Ann and I visited Planned Parenthood immediately on living with her Grandfather his flesh would probably scattered in small chunks over several counties. Consorting with Satan at Planned Parenthood would probably be a more grievous sin that me wearing a bra and a skirt.
I will not be asking for his opinion any time soon.
To sum up point 2: I'm working hard to overcome eighteen years of sexism and fanaticism. My father may think I've fallen in with bad companions, but Mary Ann and Grandpa are a breath of fresh air. I am far more of Grandpa the librarian's opinion that life should be lived testing your assumptions against reality and not against some ancient scribbles.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013 (continued)
All of my musing on the past is how I started my day. Because of my late enrollment, the only English Literature class with any openings occurred at eight o'clock on Monday and Wednesday mornings. Since Monday was Labor Day, school started on Wednesday. Thus I began my day wandering around campus lost and confused. Over the summer I had gotten used to the library's more civilized hours, opening at ten. I had to get up before the sun in order to shower, dress and ride the bus.
Being still asleep may have something to do with my poor choice of attire this morning. Mary Ann, having sensibly chosen her classes long ago, didn't have to be at her campus until after noon. She was still asleep when I got up and went into the spare room to get dressed. I have long since gotten used to putting on a bra and filling the cups with my forms, but this morning was a little bit different.
Since my being Angel the Girl had become more than a summer fling, we had decided to spend some of my college fund on a pair of glue-on breast forms to make it easier to keep up the illusion, if illusion it was. The instructions say that with the proper makeup and such I could even show some cleavage. I have my doubts, but we're going to try it sometime.
Soon.
Last night Mary Ann had helped me glue the forms on to my chest and I had slept with the next best thing to breasts a crossdresser can have.
Sure I had slept. I had to wonder how natural women managed to sleep with their breasts hanging off them. Maybe because they grow slowly they have time to get used to them while I had them blossom instantaneously. In any case, I really: appreciated my bra this morning!
Relief comes in many forms, including breast forms.
Ha. Ha.
I had cold cereal and coffee (lots of coffee!) in the kitchen by myself as Grandpa and Eve were also still sensibly in bed together.
Whine, whine whine.
At least English Lit turned out to be pretty interesting. I suppose any professor with an eight o'clock class had to be interesting or nobody would take it. I was tempted to run to the campus bookstore and get the book we were going to read, but I knew there were several copies in the library and I would rather spend the money on some more contemporary clothes than on a book I would read and put on the shelf.
Eve had promised to take us to the Goodwill and some other second hand stores this afternoon to help spice up our wardrobes on the cheap. With any luck I could get a couple of nice skirts for what the bookstore wanted for the professor's choice of literature.
Being a co-ed on campus was quite a bit different from working in the library. There I was part of the staff, someone with a bit of apparent authority. OK, I occasionally got hit on and once a patron grabbed my fake tit, (I gave him a slap) but mostly I was treated with respect. On campus I was just one of a gazillion other students with no social barriers to stand between me and anyone who didn't recognize social barriers.
In other words, I got hit on before nine that morning. At least by now I can recognize when I'm being hit on. Despite my confusion, I found the classroom and was there early so I took a desk right in front. A few minutes later a very tall guy sat next to me. Good looking, I suppose, but I'm not really well versed in what a woman would look for in a man. Go figure. He introduced himself as Nick and I told him I was Angel.
I really wish my father had chosen a different name for me. His runaway religiosity has given me a lifetime of grief. He insists that Angel is a man's name, Angela or Angelica is the feminine counterpart, a but try to tell that to another kid who has normal father. My father never had to stand around buck naked in a locker room with a bunch of macho guys who thought their comments were somehow original.
I had to live with the taunts over my name as a boy, (I think that that Boy Named Sue may have had it easier than I did) but a girl named Angel has to put up with entire boatloads of horse-pucky. Nick was no exception. Someday I'll run into an original line when a guy hears my name, but I sure didn't this morning.
Fortunately a girl sat directly behind Nick before he could get going and gave him a swat on the back of the head.
"Jeez, Nick! Give us a break. It's too freakin' early to be putting out that crap. Hi, I'm Maxine, and I apologize for this oversexed doofus trying to hit on you before any of us is awake. Actually, he's not bad when he isn't trying to impress a girl, so give him a chance to actually behave like a decent person."
"OK, for you I'll ignore the old lines. I'm Angel…"
"So I heard. You must be sick to death of jocks swooning at your feet and trying to make scintillating conversation."
"It won't do them any good." I waved my diamond around a bit. "I'm engaged and off the market."
"You go, girl. Even if some people can't read the signs before making a pass."
"Mary Ann is pretty good at intercepting passes."
See - my first class hadn't even started and I'm out as a lesbian on campus. Mary Ann and I had decided there was no sense hiding the fact we were an item.
"Damn! Nick, you really blew that one big time! I think I'm going to like you, Angel."
"Let's give the man a second chance. Hi, Nick - I'm Angel."
"Nice to meet you, Angel. I'll try to behave in the future."
"See - he can be civil if he puts his mind to it. You're a good boy, Nick."
"Awww."
So we talked a bit before class started and I made my first friends on campus. The day was suddenly brighter.
Thursday, September 5
Ten o'clock classes are much more to my liking. At least Mary Ann and I got to have breakfast together. I just wish we were going to the same school, but I'm not going to complain too hard, after all I'm living with her.
This morning I wore sneakers and socks, but I still wore a skirt. I can't help it, I love skirts and dresses and now that I can wear them I really don't want to go back to wearing pants. Maybe the weather in December might change my mind, but right now the weather is pleasant and I'm going to take advantage of it.
Thanks to Eve I now have several new items in my wardrobe, things a college girl would be more likely to wear. Don't get me wrong, I love the things I got from Sylvia, but she wasn't in college. Shopping in the secondhand stores takes time but can be very rewarding.
I think I'm starting to find my own look, but is it really my own? When I looked at the things I had picked out, I realized my taste was very influenced by my mother, which really means it was how my father thought a woman should be dressing. No matter how much I try to be myself, my father keeps popping up in my brain.
Mary Ann's taste in clothes is certainly having it's effect on me (and not just because it turns me on!) but she has a very different body, so what looks good on her isn't always flattering to my slim-hipped, boyish body. Now that's and understatement if I ever made one!
I picked far more colorful clothes than my mother would wear, but I think my father would approve as long as those clothes were not on his son's body.
Even though it makes me the odd girl out to be wearing skirts so often, I just don't like how I look in pants or slacks or trousers or whatever you want to call them. At least I have a choice these days.
Maxine was in my Psychology class, so she introduced me to several of her friends. I ended up spending a couple of hours eating lunch with them, waiting for my one o'clock class in Information Technology. I have a kind of crazy schedule due to applying so late, but all these classes should help me understand more about history (my chosen major) and the people who make it. I wonder if the psychology will get into why I feel so comfortable as Angel the Girl?
Riding the bus on the way home I had plenty of time to think. I reflected on just how much my life had changed. Last June I had a rather limited circle of friends. I wasn't allowed to go to most gatherings that weren't Christian oriented so I would not have my soul polluted by temptation. Oddly enough my father didn't object to visiting friends in ones or twos, only in groups. Maybe he thought that any large group of teens was just waiting to drag me into a Satanic game of Dungeons and Dragons.
Mary Ann was on the approved list and I can't quite figure out how I was allowed to go and visit her so much. Of course I didn't tell them that many of those visits were at her Aunt's house and we were only chaperoned by the baby. Then suddenly I was working as a girl with all kinds of new people.
I'm really glad I was able to find my footing as Angel the Girl at the library, because if I had found myself with this group of girls in the college before I had that experience I would have been completely lost. Sunday School just hadn't prepared me to participate in a bull session with half-a-dozen other girls.
It didn't take long for the conversation to turn to boys, and Maxine gleefully pointed out the diamond on my left hand. She even remembered I was engaged to Mary Ann and that brought a round of hoots and lewd exclamations. I soon found out that Erin was a out as a lesbian, whereupon she stuck her tongue out at Sally and was advised to put the tongue back in or use it.
Naturally this invited speculation as to where it could best be used and comparisons to various men of their acquaintance. I did my best to sit there with an enigmatic smile since I was completely out of my depth. We didn't talk about such things at home or at the library.
I did get quite an education, though, just not one that translates into college credits.
Friday, September 6, 2013
A light day, only one mid-morning class. That's the ideal Friday for a college student, no afternoon classes to cut to get an early start on the weekend.
In my quest to understand people I had signed up for the Alternative Philosophy class along with Psychology. I guess I'm a glutton for punishment. Actually, the Alternative Philosophy was the most interesting class that would fulfill the requirements and was still open, so that's why I signed up. Besides that, I'm living an alternative lifestyle, so it may just be helpful.
I didn't know just what I was letting myself in for. From Agrippa the Sceptic to a whole bunch of Zenos (from Citium, Elea, Sidon and Tarsus) you wouldn't believe how many people got the urge to expound their profound thoughts. You'd think they could agree on a few things, but if they did you wouldn't need a college course to try and keep it all straight. Actually, by the time the professor got done giving us an overview of the course I was looking forward to the upcoming semester.
Once again I was sitting in the front row, so when the class ended I was surprised to find Erin, the lesbian to who I had I had been gleefully introduced yesterday, was also in the class. She gave me a smile that, if I weren't already engaged and wearing a skirt, might have caused an unfortunate reaction.
No, wait a minute. She was a lesbian and I was wearing a skirt. My father just may have been right when he says that telling one lie leads to a whole web of lies to keep the deception going. Except I don't think Angel the Girl is a deception. I wonder if I will ever get enough education to understand my life.
"Hi Angel! Got any good plans for the weekend?" she asked.
"Just telling some lies with my Grandfather."
"Whoa! I usually just tell lies to my parents."
"With, not to." There's a Liar's club meeting this weekend and Mary Ann and I have a couple of true stories to tell."
"Sounds like more fun than the lies I usually have to tell." I just kind of gave her an inquiring look. "Don't you have to tell your parents lies because they would go apeshit if they knew you were a lesbian?"
Yeah, my father has a point about lies.
"Not any more. My father disowned me when he saw me looking like this and I live with Mary Ann's grandfather and his lady. We don't have to hide that we're a couple."
Actually, that was the complete truth, just easily misinterpreted.
"Damn! I'm jealous."
"You could always come along with us to the Liar's Club and get a couple of pointers. They have a lot of old guys who have had decades of experience in telling the most outrageous lies you can think of."
"Just what I need - a bunch of dirty old men hitting on the lezzie."
"Such a cynic! None of them have made so much as a pass at me or Mary Ann, even the younger ones. Besides, half of them have wives along to keep them in line, if not honest."
"You're serious."
"I am. 'Course you have to have a very low sense of humor and an extreme tolerance for puns."
"Wouldn't your lady be upset to bring along some competition?"
"Sorry Erin, you're a knockout, but there is no competition for Mary Ann."
"You silver tongued devil! I can see how you might fit in with a group like that."
"Got to keep my talents honed. Seriously, anyone is welcome to come along, you might even enjoy it."
"Why the hell not?"
"It will be fun. Oh, wear something nice - something that will make an old man's heart beat a little faster. It's not all old guys, but I do enjoy giving the old guys a show."
"They're OK with girls like us?"
"Mary Ann and I are living together in Grandpa's house. The Liars are pretty liberal."
"Sounds like fun. At least I won't have to listen to my dad tell me I should find a nice boy and settle down."
"That's tough. At least I never had to worry about my father wanting me to find a nice boy."
Yup, I was keeping in practice, all right.
One nice thing about our schedules, Mary Ann and I both have Friday afternoon free. What's even nicer is that Grandpa and Eve are off doing whatever they do to keep busy in retirement. I'll give you three guesses what Mary Ann and I were doing.
No fair! You peeked.
It was interesting making love with my breast forms glued on. Mary Ann started giggling halfway through because the things were flopping around and kind of threw off my rhythm. Then she started to chant "Go girly-man! Go!" over and over. I guess I am a girly-man, but her timing could have been better.
I've always enjoyed watching Mary Ann's breasts move while we are coupling, she told me afterwards it was odd to watch my breasts move as well.
As we lay there in the afterglow we told each other about our day and I said I had invited Erin to come to the Liar's club meeting tomorrow.
"You did what!?"
"I invited…"
"So did I!"
"You don't even know Erin."
That earned me a swat. Since it landed on my fake boob I hardly noticed.
"I invited Lula from my creative writing class."
"Makes sense. There's some awful creative storytelling at the meetings."
"Only one problem…"
"And that is?"
"We girls may end up giving all the senior members heart failure when four gorgeous babes walk into the meeting."
"I appreciate the complement, but aren't you kind of overstating it in my case?"
"You looked at yourself in the mirror lately?"
"What? Now you want we should have mirrors over the bed so you can see my backside when I'm on top?"
That time I felt it - she didn't wack me in the breast form.
"Angel, you make a really good-looking girl. Seriously."
"I want to believe it, but I must have enough macho in my brain that I have a hard time seeing it. Do you really like it that I look like a girl?"
"Do you have to ask? Would I be sleeping in your bed if I didn't like you?"
"But do you like me as a girl?"
"Yes!"
"Really?"
"Maybe you better call up Audrey if you're having doubts. Angel, I love you. I loved you as a boy and I love you as a girl. I can see that living as a girl is making you very happy and that makes me happy. That sounds pretty weird after I just enjoyed having your lovely penis inside me, but really - I can get hot looking at you when you're dressed as a girl. I even like watching people when they figure out we're a lesbian couple."
"There are times that the things my father tried to stuff into my brain still make me nervous, but I really have learned that his ideas are so damn limited and prejudiced. There is more to love than the petty prejudices of a bunch of old fogies roaming the desert a few thousand years ago!"
"Go girly-man! Go!"
"Mary Ann!"
"Really Angel, do you think you could ever be happy going back to being Angel the Boy?"
"No." Very quietly.
"I didn't think so. I've been thinking about something ever since we stuck those things on you the other night."
"Mmmmm…"
"I think I know why you like to sleep with your hand on my breast. I like waking up with my hand on your breast, too. I just wish it were the real thing."
"So do I."
"Maybe we need to talk to Audrey about implants."
"She wouldn't approve until I've finished my Real Life Test, you know that. Besides, that costs big bucks and we're poor students."
"Not exactly poor…"
"Do you have a few grand squirreled away somewhere? I sure don't."
"Angel, Grandma Sylvia left more than her clothes when she died."
"What do you mean?"
"She left me a trust fund that I got when I turned eighteen. There's enough money there to get implants for you."
"Mary Ann! You can't spend that kind of money on me!"
"I can spend it on my wife. I want us both to be able to walk down the aisle in matching bridal gowns that leave no doubt that we are both women. No straps, darling, even if we have to glue the darn things to our boobs."
"Oh god! My father…"
"He's already given you away, darling. Maybe Grandpa will escort us down the aisle, one on each arm."
"I doubt my father would come to the wedding in any case."
"I suppose you're right. We can't get married until we're seniors or it would screw up our financial aid, but you could go to class next fall with real breasts and make all the other girls jealous and all the boys horny."
"Not something I've ever really planned on, sweetheart."
"Think big!"
"What? Double D's?"
"Not that big! You look just fine with what you've got. Besides, I want to see if I can get you as turned on playing with your nipples as you do for me."
"I love a woman who can set attainable goals."
"Speaking of attainable goals - think we can do it one more time before Grandpa and Eve come back?"
"We'll never know until we try."
Saturday, September 7
"So, you worked up anything for tomorrow when the Fantastic Four invades the Liar's Club?"
"I was looking for a tall story but couldn't find anything I liked, so I wrote a fairy tale."
"You did?"
"I did. Let me try it out on you."
"I'm listening."
"That's wonderful, Angel. I'm proud of you."
"I doubt anybody is going to be calling us the Grimm Sisters, but I am rather proud of it."
"Just think! Once you have your implants you could flash them a bit of cleavage and they'd be so busy looking down your dress that you could tell them any story you want."
"I bet telling them how I turned into a girl would raise some eyebrows."
"Nah! Some things are just too unbelievable, even for the Liar's Club."
We rode to the library with Grandpa and Eve instead of taking the bus like we usually did. The Liars can get going and there would be a good chance we would miss the last bus if we stayed until the end. Grandpa and Eve went into the meeting room while Mary Ann and I waited in the lobby for our friends.
It felt a little funny to be at the library and not wearing one of the skirted suits I inherited from Sylvia or something that said 'modern professional woman.' I had opted for a sort-of-Victorian look, red blouse with lots of buttons and puffy sleeves and a long, high-waisted black skirt. Mary Ann was more modern in her choice, a forest green confection with a criss-cross bodice and a hemline that ended a few inches above the knee. Angel the Boy certainly appreciated it and Angel the Girl wished she could wear something with that low a neckline.
Erin arrived wearing a bright yellow sundress, not a bad choice since the September weather was still very mild. I introduced her to Mary Ann and they did the huggy-kissy-face thing girls do. I suppose that's one advantage to being seen as a girl, your girlfriend is less likely to be jealous of your female friends. Not that Mary Ann had ever shown any jealousy.
A few minutes later a pixie came bouncing up the steps to the library, she had to be one of the smallest women I had ever seen - if she hit five foot I would have been surprised - clothed in a frothy rainbow of colors. Pixie haircut, pixie chin, wide pixie grin. Oh boy!
Have I mentioned that although I am perfectly content to live my life as a woman I am still a heterosexual male crossdresser? It's women like Lula that reinforce that decision - if decision it is. I had an insane urge to sit up and howl. Not a recommended course of action with your fiancee standing right next to you.
That fiancee leaned over and whispered in my ear "I knew you would appreciate Lula, you old dog."
Old dog? Was she reading my mind?
Mary Ann introduced us and this time I went through the huggy-kissy-face routine with both girls. Be still my beating heart! I almost expected to feel faerie wings on Lula's back when I put my arms around her. Introductions over, we ventured to the meeting room arm-in-arm and made our grand entrance.
The room went silent. The decorum was disrupted. Audrey, a massive grin on her face, elbowed her husband to be sure he didn't miss the show and we were welcomed by one and all. The average age of the group must have dropped by 20 years when we joined them and it was quite an evening. I'm not sure what our new friends were expecting, but they certainly laughed as hard as the rest of us. When Mary Ann's turn came she told an African folk tale quite well. Next in line was Lula the pixie. There was an expectant silence as she got to her feet, clasped her hands behind her back and began to recite in her ginchy little girl voice:
Well they comb your hair and wash your neck
And clean your fingernails
And they wrap you up in old sailcloth
Away from life's travails
Now the shroud and you go overside
To the realm of Davy Jones
Reincarnation starts in when
You're turning into bone
The crabs and fishes rend the shroud
And you who are inside
And then you're just commencing on
Your transformation ride
Then in a while the seaweeds grow
Upon your rendered mound
And there upon your vestiges
A sea anomie is found
And say some whale should wander by
And graze upon this flower
That once was you, but now has become
Your aquatic bower
Now this little snack the whale has ate
Up with his other feed
Makes blubber bone and muscle
Essential to the breed
But some is left that he can't use
And it passes through
Where it lays there on the bottom
This thing that once was you
And say by chance I should swim by
Some fifty fathoms down
And wonder and I ponder on
This object I have found
Well I would think of reincarnation
And of life and death and such
And I would conclude, Cap
You haven't changed that much
There can be no greater accolade than the stunned silence of the Liar's club. Lula held her pose for a few beats, turned on a beatific smile and resumed her seat.
The crowd went wild. You can see why I begged Lula for the words so I could put them in my diary, I wouldn't want to forget that recitation. Lula explained that her family is wild about the sea and always attends the Mystic Sea Music Festival in Connecticut and had absorbed sea shanties and recitations from the time she could talk. She didn't know who wrote the recitation, but it's a good one.
Life is full of surprises.
Erin didn't have a story, or maybe she was too shy to tell one, so it was my turn next. Unlike my pixie friend I felt more comfortable sitting, so I told the fairy tale I had been working on for the past couple of weeks.
(You'll have to wait for the next chapter for the fairy tale.)
Angel's Fairy Tale
Once upon a time, on the magical island of Puerto Rico, there lived a little girl who was sure if she hoped and dreamed hard enough she would become a beautiful princess. Sadly, while the little girl's father was a prince among men, he was not a king and while her mother was beloved of her neighborhood there was no royalty in her bloodline either.
The little girl grew to be an avid reader, and by the time she was eight years old had read every fairy tale to be found in her school library. When she had read every fairy tale in her local library she begged paper and pencil from her teachers and started to write her own fairy tales.
Naturally, her first efforts were quite simple. A lonely little girl found a frog and kissed it; and the handsome prince married the little girl and she became a beautiful queen. By the time she was twelve her teachers had somehow found a way to get the Wizard of Oz books and the Chronicles of Narnia into the school library and the not-so-little girl eagerly read her way through these classic series.
In time the school library gained access to the Internet and a whole world of imagination and fantasy lay at her fingertips. The Brothers Grimm, Tolkien, Terry Pratchett, Lewis Carroll, Hans Christian Anderson, Anne McCaffrey, Christopher Paolini. Her small, impoverished world grew and expanded when her mind flew between the pages of a book.
In her mind, she became the slim, beautiful blonde princess, tall and regal in bearing and wise enough to rule over her blessed country. However, when she looked in the mirror, the reflection was of a more typical Puerto Rican girl, dark hair, rounded body, ample bosom and a generous figure.
Her neighbors saw a beautiful woman-in-making, but her mind only saw that she was not a fairy tale princess. Then there were her glasses. The girl was very nearsighted and her brothers teased her mercilessly saying she had to have glasses because she read too many books. Her uncle called them 'Coke bottle glasses' which she didn't understand because for her Coke came in aluminum cans.
Finally he brought an old-fashioned bottle of Coca-Cola to the house and she saw the thick glass at the bottom of the bottle and understood at last. It didn't make her happy, though. Princesses did not wear big, thick glasses.
Body shaming we would call it now, but the shame existed only in her mind, not among her family or her friends.
Above all, the little girl loved Mary Poppins. Her Magical Umbrella could whisk the children away to great adventures, taking them far away from the humdrum existence they otherwise knew. For many years she treasured an old, broken down umbrella as her favorite toy, playing with it for hours. As with all things, the umbrella finally became unusable and with a sigh the little girl told herself that she was growing up and must put away the fantasies of youth.
Not that she ever completely believed it deep in her heart.
In Puerto Rico, as in many Spanish speaking countries, a girl's fifteenth birthday is very special. Friends and neighbors gather, there is a special service in the church, and there is singing and dancing until the wee hours of the morning.
And then there is the dress. The Quinceanera dress is extravagant in the extreme, clothing the newly-made woman in external beauty to match the beauty of her soul. The skirt is full and layered by many petticoats. For some the bustline is daring, strapless, inviting the fifteen year old boys to fervently hope the elastic will fail during the dancing. For the more modest, even a high neckline will leave no doubt of the femininity of the girl under the dress. Then there is the embroidery and detailing. Again there is no extravagance too prodigal, cross-stitch, applique, sequins, anything goes.
The girl's family was poor in money but rich in love, and it was said that her mother had magic in her fingers when she sat down at her sewing machine. Thus when it came to be the girl's fifteenth birthday, the day a girl becomes a woman, her mother was determined to have her daughter shine above any other fifteen-year-old girl on the island.
The family scrimped and saved, borrowed from friends and neighbors, begged from relatives and the little girl's mother crafted a Quinceanera dress that would be the envy of all who beheld it. The little girl appreciated the dress, but somewhere in her heart-of-hearts she still longed to be that blonde European waif of a princess.
What the little girl didn't know was that, late in the evening when she was asleep, her mother had another project to complete. Starting with a simple parasol found in a secondhand shop, the mother let the magic flow from her fingers into the umbrella, creating a work of art to compliment the dress without the little girl being aware of it.
The day finally came and the little girl proudly wore her new dress to the church, where the priest blessed her as she crossed into womanhood. To the surprise of the assembled friends and family, the priest drew the parasol from it's concealment and blessed it before handing it to the woman who stood before the congregation.
The newly-made woman could hardly believe it, she opened the parasol and twirled it around, where it practically lifted her from the floor. The parasol swirling above her, the woman walked down the aisle and through the wide-thrown double doors of the church into the bright morning. With visions of Mary Poppins in her head, the woman commanded the parasol to take her on an adventure.
Suddenly, a cloud blew in front of the sun, a wind sprang up and the parasol lifted the woman high into the air, her figure growing smaller and smaller before the amazed crowd as she vanished into the new morning sky.
Larisa, for that was her name, gazed in wonder at the clouds below her. Now she was a woman she would no longer be be known 'that little girl' but but be known by her given name.
At first she allowed the winds to take her where they willed, marveling at all that unfolded below her. There were the fish in the sea and the boats on the water. After a time she spied some islands below her and wished to see them. Calling to her marvelous parasol she asked to go lower to examine the islands and she felt herself gently descend until her feet brushed the treetops.
"May we go to the beach?" she asked the magic parasol, and they drifted to the white sands where she settled lightly just above the swells of the ocean.
"Thank you," she spoke to the parasol as she delicately folded it up. The parasol made a marvelous walking stick as she explored the island. The sun was shining high in the sky when she had finished her explorations and she was beginning to get hungry, after all her magic parasol had taken her away before she could partake of the Quinceanera feast.
No sooner had she had this thought than the parasol unfolded itself and flew upside down to the sea, dipping into the swells and returning with a fish flopping inside concave surface. Clapping her hands with joy, Larisa collected firewood from the woods and carefully set it into a pile for a fire, but realized she had no matches.
All at once inspiration struck and she removed her glasses and held them just so to focus the sun's rays on the wood. Soon the campfire was burning merrily and Larisa was roasting the fish on the end of a green stick.
Refreshed by her meal, Larisa wrapped the remaining pieces of fish in her shawl, for she was a woman who had been trained to waste nothing. She shook out her magic parasol and politely asked it to continue her adventure. It obligingly rose into the sky, heading eastward so that the sun would not be in her eyes.
But there was a lot of ocean ahead and after a while Larisa began to tire of holding on to the parasol. In the distance she saw great geysers of water rising into the sky, so she asked the parasol to go toward them so she could investigate. They turned out to be a pod of spouting whales, and as she passed over them, Larisa politely hailed the whales and they began to dance with joy.
"Mr Whale," she cried, "I am getting tired and would appreciate it if you would let me rest upon your strong back."
"Of course," replied the whale. "We don't get much company here in the middle of the ocean."
This made Larisa sad, so she settled down upon the back of one of the whales and began to sing for the pod. As the night fell, she ate her fish, then the pod and Larisa sang together until she fell gently to sleep.
When the sun rose in the morning Larisa was again hungry, so the parasol once again caught a fish for her. This time there was no wood for a fire, and of course she wouldn't start a fire on the back of the friendly whale. Then she had an idea. She asked the whales if they could provide her with some seaweed, which of course they were happy to do. She made a deep pile of seaweed on the back of the whale and placed the fish at the top. Taking off her glasses she again focused the sun's rays on the seaweed and soon had a delectable meal of steamed fish and seaweed.
When her meal was finished, the whales informed her it was time for them to catch a northward current, so they bid each other farewell and Larisa once again flew eastward with her magic parasol. Approaching the Canary Islands, Larisa thought it was time for lunch, so the magic Parasol began to descend, setting her down in front of the amazed patrons of a lovely little tapas bar.
Recognizing her exquisite Quinceanera dress, she was invited to share their meal as she told them of her marvelous adventures. Although their version of Spanish was quite different from that spoken in Puerto Rico, they were able to understand each other and she was gifted with a small basket of provisions that could be hung from the crook of her magic parasol. After sharing their siesta she was refreshed and continued on her journey.
The scenery as she floated over the mountains was truly spectacular, and after a while she spied a wonderful castle in the distance. 'Maybe they are in need of a new princess at the castle,' she said to herself, so she asked the parasol to take her to the castle.
As she settled in the courtyard of the castle she was surrounded by a flood of amazed citizens. She, in turn, was amazed that most of them had a distinct resemblance to Peter Sellers. Larisa found herself in the Duchy of Grand Fenwick, a country even smaller than her own island. The magnificence of her Quinceanera dress caused all the assembled multitude to conclude she must be visiting Royalty, so she was immediately invited to a feast in her honor and guested with the resident princesses of the castle for some days.
Sadly, the Royal Family had a full roster of princesses, so she eventually bade farewell to her hosts and the magic parasol once again floated her into the sky.
The parasol took her on a tour of all the marvelous kingdoms it could locate: Anatruria, Andalasia, Caledonia, Ducklovia, Estrovia, Franistan, Glenraven, Hazelrink, Karlova, Klugenstein, Lutha, Marshovia, Moronica, Pottsylvania, Rongovia, Urzikstan, Vulgaria and even Wakanda. There she met and found friendship with a multitude of Princes and Princesses, who gladly accepted her as one of them because of her lovely Quinceanera dress and the gracious and loving attitude she had learned growing up in her family.
At last the parasol brought her to the grandest kingdom of them all: The Marvelous Land of Oz. There she was befriended by Princess Ozma, whose wise council confirmed what she had already learned on her journey.
Princesses came in all kinds, shapes and colors. A princess need not be tall or have skin as pale as milk or long golden hair. A princess must have grace in her heart and a love of her people in her soul.
After sharing a final afternoon tea with Ozma, Larisa once again took up her magic parasol and remembered the Dorothy's message from the movie: There's no place like home!
With Ozma and all the little people waving, Larisa once again soared into the sky and came down in her own front yard. A joyous cry of "I'm home!" escaped her lips and she was soon surrounded by her family.
From that day forward, Larisa knew the key to being a princess was to treat everyone she met as a prince or princess, and to share the love in her heart with all she met. And she truly did live happily ever after!
I was pleased to get an appreciative silence when I finished. No wild applause like Lula, but a whole host of smiling faces - just what I had been aiming for. I may just have to take up creative writing if I can get results like this.
Mary Ann gave me a big kiss, and Eve later told me it raised a few eyebrows. We had been careful not to make any Public Displays of Affection (Hey - it wasn't that long since we were in high school) when we were at the Liar's Club, but now we were officially engaged it would be silly to hide our love. I'm afraid we both waved our rings at anyone we could during the snack break.
Afterwards, Grandpa and Eve took all four of us out for a snack (really a meal - remember we are college kids) and I think our friends really enjoyed the company. I think Mary Ann and I are well on our way to settling in to the college life.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Much food for thought in Psychology today. Only the second class and my head is spinning. The prof dug right in with personality types. The old Greeks decided there were four: choleric, melancholic, sanguine, and phlegmatic. Meyers-Briggs thinks there are sixteen. Other people throw other numbers into the pot. Kind of like a lottery but nobody is a clear winner.
So If I've got this right the choleric is goal oriented, logical, analytical. Melancholic is conservative, traditional and very social. Gee - sounds like my Dad at church! Sanguine is lively, optimistic, risk taking. Now who does that sound like in my life? Hint - she gets to read this journal. Finally there is phlegmatic, they like harmony, relationships and charity. That one's for my Mom.
So where do I fit in? In the middle, as always. I see parts of me in all four of those categories. Which the prof said is pretty much the norm.
Me, normal? Psychology is not an exact science, eh?
I took a personality test that the prof recommended and came out ENFJ, which means a teacher type. ENFJ stands for extraversion (E), intuition (N), feeling (F), and judging (J). Interesting, but not interesting enough to pay the nineteen bucks for a detailed report.
What was really interesting is that ENFJ is rather rare and is very rare among men. I guess that makes sense since I want to be a historian and historians usually end up teachers. Since I'm living my life as a woman, that part makes sense, too.
Friday, September 20
I haven't been writing much, too busy finding my way around the school and working out how Mary Ann and I will cope with going to different schools. I think we're starting to figure out how we can live separate lives and still be a couple. I guess that's something everybody has to learn sometime.
It took a bit of planning, but I got to have a professional visit with Audrey today at the school. Knowing Audrey outside her professional office might be a problem for some people, but I am comfortable with it. She does have some doubts, but we decided that if we set some limits we could continue. Actually, knowing Audrey as a whole person makes me very comfortable talking to her about intimate topics.
I told Audrey about the personality stuff I was learning in Psychology and she made a face. Her opinion was that the guys who wanted to reduce the human being to an alphabet soup of letters and diagnostic codes were, in Freud-speak, anal retentive. She also said we all knew what comes out of an anus, so just put the answers down on the test and think of better things.
It would be fun to take her to class sometime.
Then we got down to business and we talked about how Mary Ann and I were learning how not to be together all the time but still close. She pointed out we could do worse than look at Grandpa and Eve, they seem to have come up with a very healthy relationship.
Of course, getting engaged and publicly coming out as lesbians occupied much of our time. She's a very perceptive lady and we delved into those deep-down religious strictures that I grew up with. I have pretty much decided that my father's religion is not for me, but it isn't so easy to throw off eighteen years of indoctrination.
Audrey was interested in how I used the word indoctrination. After a few weeks of looking at life's hard questions in Psychology and Philosophy classes, I had realized that I had been indoctrinated in my father's religion. The dictionary defines the word as to teach (a person or group) to accept a set of beliefs uncritically.
And there's the rub: uncritically. I can't do that. All through high school I was wondering about the things I learned at the church, but wasn't ready to just abandon what I had known all my life. Meeting Mary Ann and her family accelerated that process; free inquiry is their watchword and once I started thinking logically the religion just didn't wash. When Mary Ann and I first made love the sky didn't fall and Satan failed to drag me off to hell. My father's dire predictions just didn't happen. Same with wanting to live as a girl, not even a good thunderstorm since I started living as a girl.
As Audrey pointed out, logic can only take you so far. The paternalistic bully of the old testament still lives deep in my brain, and can pop up at the most inopportune times. That's when I need to be honest with Mary Ann and the rest of the world. It may be as simple as remembering that love will eventually triumph over hate, but it isn't going to happen magically. I'm going to have doubts, that's the time to talk to Audrey or Grandpa and Eve or maybe even one of my professors.
Did I have any real doubts, she asked. That's when we got into if I wanted to live as a girl for just a little while or was it going to be for the rest of my life?
The rest of my life? The big bully in my head tossed a couple of lightning bolts and threw in a thundercloud for a few moments, then the weather cleared. I told her how Mary Ann and I had talked about that very subject. Her attitude is that she loved me and she was perfectly happy to live with me as Angel the Woman for the rest of our lives. She had even offered to help pay for the breast implants so we didn't have to fuss around with forms and glue all the time.
I didn't mention her caveat about keeping my male genitals. I don't think either one of us would be happy to give up traditional sex together. That would be permanent. Was I ready to make that decision after only a few months?
'Yes,' I answered firmly. I had been mulling it over for the last couple of weeks, ever since Mary Ann and I had first talked about it. The idea of having my own breasts was something that I longed for.
RLT Angel? I may consider Audrey ad friend but she is a shrink with her own ethics. No permanent changes until I've lived a year in the feminine role.
I knew that, but…
We went way over the allotted hour, but I was the last client on a Friday afternoon, so Audrey kept at it until we were both satisfied as to where I was going. But right now it just feels so darn slow!
Thursday, September 26
Adventure club? What was Mary Ann talking about?
"I'm going to join the Women's Adventure Club at school. Don't you want to go on an adventure with me, Angel?"
"Every day with you is an adventure, my love."
"I'm gonna barf!"
"Should I get a bag?"
"Angel Airlines?"
"Flying on a wing and a prayer, except that I don't pray much any more."
"But you still believe."
"Yeah, I still believe, just not what my father believes."
"Someday he'll come around. If his God is what they say it is then there's always the chance that love will overcome prejudice."
"I try to believe that, really I do, but we seem to have drifted from your adventure club."
"How do we end up doing that all the time? Don't answer that or we'll end up on another tangent."
"Which is a sine of your quick thinking."
"Angel!"
"Good thing I'm marrying only you. Having wife is monogamy. Having two wives would be bigotry. Having three wives would be trigonometry."
"Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!"
"You're cute when you groan. Ouch! OK. OK. Adventure club."
"Women's Adventure Club. They do cool stuff like horseback riding, tours, whitewater rafting, amusement parks, all kinds of stuff. They're an offshoot of the Adventure Club, but some of the girls got tired of the macho assholes who seemed to think it was an adventure to see how many girls they could screw during a trip."
"Sometimes I'm ashamed to have been born a man."
"But you've come over to the side of the Angels. Maybe your dad was prescient when he named you."
"I don't think he would agree."
"His loss, my gain."
"Anyway, it sounds interesting. I take it they have something coming up you're interested in."
Yeah. They're planning a campout over Columbus Day weekend and I think it would be fun to go with them."
"Camping? I never did much like camping, even as Angel the Boy."
"I take it you're thinking about church camp."
"I suppose I am."
"And it was heavy on the church and not so much on the camping?"
"We got a lot of 'look at the wonder God hath made.' I just wondered why getting mud all over me and slapping mosquitoes counted as something I should thank God for."
"I think the Other Guy came up with mosquitoes."
"I'd be glad to send every one of them to his place."
"He's welcome to them. You don't have to worry, though. All the skeeters will be dead by October."
"OK, I grant you no skeeters. How about the pup tents, rain, mud, cold, bears and wolves? And the outhouses. Don't forget the outhouses!"
"My, you are just so optimistic!"
"Like I said, I've been to church camp. Satan's sulphur reek had competition from the outhouses."
"Do you seriously think a group of college women would be sleeping in pup tents and shitting in outhouses?"
"What? Do they join the bears that shit in the woods?"
"Angel, they poop in the flush toilets and wash their hands thoroughly in warm, soapy water. And sleep in a very nice bunkhouse. This is the college retreat property, not the ROTC."
"And you call that camping?"
"We can use Grandpa's queen size air mattresses and sleep in luxury."
"Grandpa goes camping?"
"He did when he was younger, not so much any more but all the stuff is still in the garage."
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, he's done just about everything else in the world."
"That's my Gramps. So, want to go camping with me?"
"With how many other people in the room with us? You do remember I would have a hard time maintaining my feminine persona in a nightgown."
"Aren't you glad those pretty little titties don't come off?"
"I'm not all that worried about my titties. But aren't you worried about all the other pretty little - and not so little - titties I'll be seeing?"
"I trust you."
"Thanks. The other question is: can you go three days without sex? You're too loud to do it quietly in a room full of other people."
"That could be a strain, but I can try. If I can't then we can go off in the woods by ourselves."
"That could be interesting. You really want to do this, don't you?"
"I do. We should. I asked, the showers are separate, as are the bathroom stalls. You should be able to make it without any problem."
"Unless seeing all those pretty titties causes me an untoward reaction."
"You have a gaff. You have several gaffs. Just don't make a gaffe when we're there."
"Do they have sewing machines there?
Friday, October 4
Philosophy again today. The prof talked about sexism in philosophy, a topic that made me a bit nervous considering my current lifestyle. Especially when I was asked to answer a question from the woman's point of view! I remembered Grandpa and his petard thing. I was well and truly hoisted and didn't know what to say.
I hadn't really realized just how sexist an atmosphere I had grown up in until I started seeing Mary Ann. Now that I am living as a woman I have the whole sexist culture thrown in my face with some regularity. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that women philosophers were marginalized and written out of the learned tomes of the field.
I think I may be in love with Marie de Gournay. Good thing she died 300 years ago or Mary Ann would be jealous. She had some pithy things to say in her letters to Descartes. Naturally the Big Boys who edit the major philosophy books have excluded her and all her kin.
She said things like: "Blessed are you, reader, if you do not belong to the sex of those who are deprived [a proper education] so that ignorance, slavery, and the capacity to play the fool are established as woman's only happiness." and "The vulgar man [who] lacks the intelligence required to recognize a blow delivered by a female hand [nonetheless] will always win the contest either because he has a beard or because he has a proud simulated ability."
I think I'm going to spring for a copy of her Leters to Descartes and see what else she has to say.
My father would probably want to burn the book because he still thinks The Bible has all you need to know, but since I'm getting it in electronic form, good luck to him!
Friday, October 11
Early session with Audrey so we can be gone on our adventure weekend as soon as I get done with Philosophy. Knowing the second session on women in philosophy was coming up shortly, I groused about the whole sexist mess.
She laughed at me. Really! She wished that every man had the guts to do what I'm doing for just a month and then maybe they would stop thinking with their minor appendage.
Yeah, she actually said 'minor appendage.' So I started laughing. I don't know too many men who would consider that appendage minor!
Naturally she asked the how does that feel? question and I had to think a bit before I answered. Does being pissed off at men in general qualify as self-loathing? After all I spent eighteen years as a man (well, boy) before admitting I felt more like a female. I was never that thrilled by jocks and macho types, but they never beat on me or gave me too much grief because I wasn't a football star. If anything I was pissed at my dad because he named me Angel. Now I kind of thank him because being Angel the girl makes me very comfortable with my name.
Has anyone figured out I'm trans, she asked.
I don't think so, or at least nobody has started screaming at me and calling me a pervert. Actually, being known as a lesbian has kind of thrown everybody off the scent of being trans. Deep cover, like in spy novels.
And this weekend? Mary Ann swears it will be perfectly safe, after all I made it through the communal dressing for the Labor Day parade, didn't I? So why am I nervous? Didn't I just write down how much better I feel as a girl and how much easier it has become not that long ago?
I'm glad I had the chance to talk to Audrey before leaving, I was still nervous but she had some good advice. Since I'm alive to write this late at night in the cabin, obviously I made it safely to the shores of the Sea of Femininity.
But tomorrow?
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Well, actually I'm writing very early Sunday morning in the communal kitchen so I don't disturb any of my fellow campers. And why am I up early on a Sunday morning? Simple: My fellow campers may be beacons of femininity by day, but they snore like longshoreman during the night. Not that I've personally been able to listen to a longshoreman snore, mind you, but there must be some truth to the old saw or nobody would have started sawing with it.
A rough-cut saw, indeed!
We were up to all hours last night, gossiping, singing, telling stupid stories and all the things that you do on a campout. The weather was fine so we all sat around the campfire to enjoy the sort-of-wilderness. Yes, there were some bugs, but Mary Ann was right and the mosquitoes were gone.
Some of the stories were pretty good, some were pretty lame, and some just plain shocked Angel-trying-to-be-a-girl! I had no idea you could tell so many funny stories about having your period. Or some downright icky ones. Going to Bible Camp had simply not prepared me for an evening around the campfire with a bunch of college girls.
After one particularly funny (and gross!) one I gave Mary Ann a look of despair and she just stuck her tongue out at me. So I took advantage of it and gave her a kiss. I'm afraid that kiss cemented our reputation as lesbian lovers, since she took advantage of me. When the hooting began we just kept going to see how much we could stretch it out.
Too bad it was too dark for anyone to see a stopwatch, I'm curious how long it lasted in objective time. Subjective time was a couple of centuries.
If the kiss didn't tell everyone we were lovers, then bringing our own blow-up queen-size bed would have nailed it down. Neither one of us wanted to sleep on those bunk beds with the gravel-filled mattresses.
Of course, that assumes anyone could get any sleep in the Chamber of Snorrors. As long as I was up early, I supposed I should go and get a shower before all the hot water is gone. I'm glad there are individual shower stalls, otherwise I'd be in a whole lot of hurt!
Or so I thought. I was the first, but by the time I had finished and dressed in my cubicle I could hear several other woman moving around. Nothing else to do but come out, where I found myself among several woman in various states of undress. If I ever wanted to study the several species of brassiere in its native habitat, I had the opportunity this morning. I felt vaguely disappointed that none of them were wearing matching bra-and-panty sets, and my vestigial male libido cried out in protest.
As I stood there in shock and awe, little Lula, wearing not a stitch of clothing, smiled at me and claimed my shower stall with a cheery 'good morning!' Moments later a tall girl with a truly impressive pair of breasts picked up her bra and casually reached behind herself to snap the hooks, then settled her breasts in place to her satisfaction. Then she casually stepped into her panties and covered the dark bush of pubic hair. Since the hair on her head was strawberry blonde, some corner of my overwhelmed mind realized she had to have dyed her hair.
I firmly told myself that this sort of thing is no different than what I had encountered in the boy's locker room at school, but logic can only take you so far in such a situation. I was just another girl among several other girls and I had darn well remember that.
I must have been mumbling to myself because when I started to brush my teeth I had to stop. I brushed my wig and made myself presentable for the day, longing for the time when my hair grew long enough to no longer need to wear a wig.
I also found out there are basically two types of women - those that use makeup even at a campout where there were no men to impress and those that don't. There's still enough of the male in me to be impressed by a really good makeup job, but that competes with a lifetime of my father's railing about modesty and vanity in a woman. I really think that most women look better without makeup.
Call it the natural look or whatever you want, but there's something I find more genuine about a girl who doesn't think she has to enhance her natural looks. Mary Ann tells me I'm lucky that I fall into that category, I wouldn't want to spend all the time needed to do makeup before and eight o'clock class and then spend all day worrying I had smeared something and looked like a clown.
Mary Ann and Eve have shown me a few things when we had gone out somewhere special, and under those circumstances being made up was kind of fun, but I really like a genuine, unenhanced face most of the time.
Back at the cabin I was drafted to help with breakfast and was once again glad I had been getting cooking lessons. While some of my fellow campers were into healthy breakfasts like yogurt and granola, most of them were perfectly fine with bacon and eggs. I got to make several batches of buttermilk biscuits using Bisquick, which is something I had never heard of. My mother and Eve are both into making things from scratch, so I didn't know much about convenience foods. Even a novice like me can't go wrong adding water to a package of mix and dropping the result on a cookie sheet. Delicious!
The group seems to have adopted Grandpa's 'the cook doesn't do dishes' ethic so I was very happy to be a cook.
I have to hand it to Diana, the lady who organized this weekend. Everything seemed to be running smoothly. Christina had organized the kitchen and had a rota of who was helping with which meal. Of course, there were some who loved to cook and helped because they loved it, and there was me who helped because I wanted to learn.
By 10 AM everything was cleaned up and we went on a hike to a waterfall about a mile or so down a wooded trail. Knowing the hike was on tap for the day, I had reluctantly put on a pair of slacks and a tunic-type top. Not quite a dress, but even I wasn't silly enough to go on a hike through the woods in a skirt
Mary Ann and I took a little kidding about holding hands as we hiked on the wider parts of the trail, but it was all good natured. The woods were alive with color and the falls was a sight to behold with the water rushing over a stretch of rapids after flying over a cliff face.
To my surprise, I was actually enjoying the weekend. I guess my memories of Church Camp had soured me on such things. With people who actually wanted to be there and weren't trying to indoctrinate me, camping turned out to be fun. I was getting to know some of the people Mary Ann had met and I was happy to meet them.
I was drawn to the kitchen once again to help prepare dinner. I seem to have a real need to become a better cook, and the women in the group who are organizing the kitchen are happy to help me learn. Mary Ann and Lula helped me chop veggies, but Lula had to use an improvised booster seat to reach the counter. She just brushed it off, but I was embarrassed that she had to be treated like a child.
She noticed my discomfort and just told me that there are far worse afflictions in this world than being short. She has learned to live with her body and knows what she needs to accomplish her goals, so there is no embarrassment in a booster seat.
Should I be embarrassed that I don't have natural breasts, that I need help to make my body look like what I want it to? I think Lula may have been teaching me more than cooking.
One more thing needs to be said. When it came time for bed, I suddenly found myself surrounded by naked women. Why not? I was one of those women as far as anyone there knew. I have to say that the female breast comes in the most wondrous variety of shapes and colors. Sure I appreciated them from my partially male prospective, but they also inspired a longing to have breasts of my own. I wonder how flexible Audrey could be about such things, but I wasn't going to ask too soon. I didn't want to come off as a little kid whining 'are we there yet?'
I simply turned away from the crowd and shucked my tunic, unsnapped my bra and slid into my opaque nightgown. When I removed my slacks I was just one more girl in the crowd. No one noticed, no one cared one way or the other.
Sleeping wearing a gaff and a wig is a pain, though.
Sunday, October 13
Was it a worship service? No mention of Jesus, a few references to a higher power, a lot of singing and several people simply saying how renewed they felt by this weekend in the woods. The altar was a campfire, the host was more buttermilk biscuits and the wine was some unidentified juice as we sat around the campfire.
No leader that I could identify, just an expression of the joy of living. I felt the need to express my delight at being among such company, my thankfulness for having Mary Ann in my life. Like all the other statements of faith it was simple and direct.
Yes, it was a worship service, but not one my father would recognize or approve of. No commands to holiness, no threats of hell for disobedience, just rejoicing in the world we live in.
Enough said.
I could get to enjoy this communal meal-making. I asked Christina just how she knew how much to bring to feed us all and how she managed to keep it all straight. I found out her parents ran a restaurant and she had just kind of absorbed the knowledge through her pores as she grew up. If I was really interested there were courses available in culinary disciplines, but I don't think I would want to make a living feeding masses of people.
Since this was an official school activity, the people in the cafeteria had helped her figure out what was needed and ordered it through their supply sources, thus saving quite a bit of money. While most of the weekend was paid for out of student activity funds, no one wanted to waste any money.
She said Thanksgiving was coming up, so if we had a big family gathering then I should pick the brains of the women in my family as a starting point. This made me a little sad, knowing that I would never be able to share the kitchen duties with my mother like I could have if I were born her daughter. She noticed that I suddenly got quiet and asked why, and I told her I was estranged from my family but didn't offer any details.
Her answer was simple - since Mary Ann and I were engaged then she should have a family who could teach me. That let me tell her how her mother had already been doing that and Eve and Grandpa were helping me learn to cook. Concentrate on the good things and life is much better. Little did she know she was repeating the advice Audrey had given me so many times.
So we chopped onions, peppers and garlic for goulash, wearing a pair of thin gloves so my nicely polished nails didn't smell like vampire repellent. We fried up a mound of hamburger, then added big cans of diced tomatoes, huge pots of elbow macaroni and heaps of paprika, then left it to simmer and let the flavors blend.
While that was simmering we chopped more garlic and simmered it in butter for garlic bread while our other helpers were chopping lots of crisp veggies for salad. This was all done with lively conversation about a vast array of topics; school, boys, clothes, families, politics, dirty old men, cute young men, cute young women - with a leer at Mary Ann and me - puppies, the list was endless.
Nothing like this ever happened to me when I was trying to be the man my father thought I should be. I found myself wishing he could have such a rich life to live, but maybe he finds his joy in his version of god. Who am I to judge? I have found what works for me; he has found what works for him. I do not want to make the mistake of imposing my solution on others.
Monday, October 14, 2013
Last day at camp, sort of bittersweet. We got up much later than yesterday and not a few of the girls were moaning about the amount of wine that they drank the night before. The phrase 'wine is a mocker' - in my father's voice, naturally - ran through my head but I wisely kept it between my ears.
Not all of my father's pronouncements fell on deaf ears, I have consciously avoided the drinking that many of my fellow freshmen seem to think makes them adults once they are away from home. I've sampled the wine that Eve and Grandpa drink at dinner sometimes, but it seems sour and unappealing to me. Give me a glass of milk or apple juice any time.
Breakfast this morning was the stereotypical female kind - yogurt and granola, fresh fruit, that sort of thing. Well, some of us did finish up the last of the ice cream from last night's dinner - wouldn't want it to go to waste.
We packed up all our things and piled them in the vans, then took one last wander through the woods together. We even saw a family of deer in one of the meadows.
On our way back someone started singing 99 bottles of beer on the wall and once again I couldn't help but think how different this camp was to Bible Camp. The counselors would have had apoplexy if someone had sung that on the church bus!
Both Grandpa and Eve were waiting to pick us up at the college since buses didn't run too often on the holiday. On the way home Grandpa asked if I had remembered to change my driver's license since my official residence was in a different state now. Since I hadn't been driving I never even thought of that.
"Better take care of that pretty soon. Besides, your picture doesn't quite match your present appearance, does it?"
"Are they going to give me any grief?"
"I doubt it, you have a license, just bring the envelope from one of the letters from the college to prove your address and fill out the paperwork. Pennsylvania is one of the states where you can mark an X under gender so you don't have to lie. Just wear your hair loose and nobody is going to question you."
"X?"
"As in taking the fifth. The answer is none of their business. Way back in the stone ages, like when I first got my license, it was nothing more than a piece of paper with a name, address and simple description of the person who was supposed to have it. Back then it made sense to specify where the person was male or female since that eliminated about half the potential fakers. Come to think of it, I suppose your current appearance puts the lie to that bit of wishful thinking, doesn't it?"
"Pretty much."
"Nobody back then would have dreamed we would have the technology to put a full color picture on a license, let alone the technology to morph bodies into a pretty good approximation of the opposite sex.
"That has its limitations, too, since the picture on my license is a good forty years old - too cheap to take new pictures, I suppose. Then you consider that you are somewhere between M and F by your own choice and the system just plain needs an X under gender."
"Should I get my license changed too, Grandpa?" asked Mary Ann.
"You could if you wanted, but your father wasn't crazy enough to disown you."
"It would be kind of nice if Angel and I had the same address."
"And you're welcome to stay as long as you want, darling. I have no doubt that you two would be walking down the aisle with us if our hypocritical, family values touting government wouldn't cut off your financial aid the minute you got married."
"Well, if Angel can stand living in sin then so can I. So when are you and Eve going to be taking that walk?"
"After Christmas and before New Year's," answered Eve. "It looks like your folks and my daughter can get time off so we can have the wedding then. We're going to have to find a time to visit the bridal shop pretty soon I can find a wedding dress and you two can get bridesmaid's dresses."
"Really?" I asked.
"Of course! You don't think we could get hitched without you both there, do you?"
"Wow! Me a bridesmaid! I just wish I could call Mom and tell her, but I never know when Dad would be home and get upset."
"You could always smuggle a letter to her via my folks," suggested Mary Ann. "I'm sure they would be willing to take it over to her sometime when your Dad isn't home."
"I suppose… But it feels so sneaky."
"That's because it is sneaky. Your mother wasn't the one to disown you, she proved that over Labor Day. Doesn't she deserve to know what's happening in your life even if your father doesn't like it? She has the right to live her own life, too."
I knew she was right, but it still felt underhanded. My father may have disowned me, but I didn't like undermining him with the family.
"Angel, there's something you need to remember about marriage," Grandpa said. "I know you've probably heard that when you get married the two become one. That, my girl, is a pernicious lie. There are two people in a marriage and they are both independent, thinking, separate beings. If they become one then one has taken over the other, and there is no longer a marriage, just one empty husk dominated by the other partner.
"Marriage is a partnership, and neither one has the right to dictate the other's actions. Sylvia and I never promised to obey anyone and neither will Eve and I. We're partners, individuals who wholeheartedly want to share life with each other, but who still remain individuals. Keep that in mind and you and my granddaughter will prosper."
This whole 'being and adult' thing isn't all that simple.
Thursday, October 17
Every time I think I'm getting comfortable with living as a woman something comes up and slaps me upside the head to prove how little I know. Sometimes I wish my obsession with bras had started when I was seven or eight, early enough so that my mother could have taught me all the things I don't know about being a woman.
Who am I kidding? If I had said anything about feeling like a girl I would have ended up being prayed over and having the Devil driven from my puny little body. Not one of my better ideas.
This started because I was complaining that my own hair was getting long enough to make it a pain to wear a wig. It was maybe three inches long, but not long enough for me to think it belonged on a woman. That's me - neither fish nor fowl, boy or girl.
I've been surprised that I have curly hair. Really! I've never been allowed to grow it long enough to see that, but it has some loose curls now. Mary Ann just gave me that look and told me I should get a permanent so I wouldn't need to wear a wig.
See what I mean about the gaps in my girly education? There is no way on God's green earth that I would have thought of getting a permanent. Not in the data banks in my head.
Just how do you get a permanent? I know my mother gets her hair 'done' every so often, but I have never seen just what that involves. Men do not go anywhere near beauty salons unless they're dropping a woman off in front of one.
More sexist drivel. I know! I know!
I asked Mary Ann but since Eve has taken care of snipping off her split ends she hasn't been to a beauty salon since we moved in with Grandpa. So we knocked on their bedroom door and asked her. She got this funny look and just gave me a big hug. Then she played with my hair and Grandpa grumped and snorted at all the foolishness.
We all saw right through the old fraud.
Eve and Mary Ann went into consultation mode and played with my hair a bit more, turned me around a few times for a 360° view and decided a head-full of tight curls was just the ticket. I got nervous when they waxed ecstatic about the 'Little Orphan Annie' look. I hope they were kidding!
Not content to wait to make a phone call for an appointment tomorrow, Eve opened her laptop and logged on to her salon's web site and made an appointment for the works tomorrow afternoon.
Ain't technology grand?
Friday, October 18
Today's Alternative Philosophy class focused on Carl Elliott. His field is bioethics and he is a gadfly to the mental health field. I just wish I had time to read more of his material, he is funny and opinionated and makes you think! I even forgot that I was going to go to a beauty salon when I left the class.
I was nervous!
I wasn't quite sure what to expect, but the place looked a lot like an ultra-feminine barber shop. Barber chairs - not in plain black-and-white leather and enamel like I was used to - big mirrors, individual counters with obscure tools and bottles galore, and half a dozen women sitting in those chairs. There were other chairs with hoods that looked like something out of a science-fiction film (brain-sucking machines?) and magazines galore, but not a one of them featuring cars or chiseled bodybuilders.
Well, what did I expect?
My overwhelming first impression was sulphur! For a kid raised on eighteen years of fire-and-brimstone, Hell-and-Damnation preaching, this was not reassuring. Vanity, oh vanity, Satan is thy name.
My father has a love-hate-relation with beauty salons - just a few weeks of Psychology and here I am making a diagnosis. On the one hand it was important that my mother looked her best because her appearance was a reflection on him. On the other hand, Vanity was a sin and something so gosh-darned feminine made him nervous. And here I was about to get a permanent at a beauty salon.
Can you be nervous and thrilled at the same time?
Yup!
Actually, it was a wonderful experience once I calmed down. Have you ever had someone pour warm water over your head after sweating under a wig for several months? Then shampoo and massage your scalp until it must have glowed? Once I was nice and relaxed they proceeded to wind my hair on bobbins and rip it out by the roots. Eve made a snarky remark about suffering for beauty, but I kept my mouth shut. I was afraid if I opened it up I would get little pieces of hair in it as the lady snipped and shaped my hair.
Once the tensile strength of my hair had been tested-almost-to-destruction, she poured some evil-smelling potion on my head, wrapped me in plastic and let me sit until it started to eat into my scalp. I couldn't even scratch with the layer of plastic bobbins lining my head.
Eventually my hair was drenched in another evil-smelling liquid and I was rinsed off, much to my relief. Once I was rinsed I was again dosed with some arcane potion and pieces of tinfoil were wound into my poor, abused hair. Maybe the tinfoil would protect me if they stuck me in the brain-sucking machines?
Again I was marinated, rinsed and finally blow-dried. After all that I finally got to see the new me.
I thought I looked OK in the wig, but I was so gosh-darn cute that I couldn't believe it! Fer cryin'-out-loud I looked perky!
Eve and the stylist asked if I liked it but all I could do was nod furiously because my voice had stopped working.
Magic! It had to be magic!
With the long haired wig I looked like a nice girl, one that I wouldn't have given a second glance at Sunday School. OK, I wouldn't be stupid enough to have ogled any girl at Sunday School, but you get the idea! The kind of girl my father would approve of.
Back to using Dad's standards again. Am I ever going to get past that?
With the curly hair my pointed chin was emphasized, giving me a pixie kind of look.
It's a good thing I wasn't wearing any makeup when we got home because Mary Ann would have destroyed it when she grabbed my face and kissed the new me. Grandpa gave me a lecherous chuckle and invited us out to dinner.
There followed a furious burst of activity as three women primped for a night on the town. With Grandpa resplendent in his Mark Twain white suit we were ostentatiously lead into the restaurant, where we were met by Charlie and Audrey Pymm. Grandpa must have been busy while we were primping, the old bugger.
We had a lovely evening swapping lies and telling stories, and not once did we touch on any topic that my shrink would discuss with me.
Amazing!
Monday, October 21
Lots of reaction to my new hair, most of it positive. What I hadn't planned on was the scrutiny of the guys on campus. I hope I never looked at a girl like a couple of those dudes looked at me. I think I know what 'undressing with your eyes' means now.
How a girl wears her hair makes a big difference. With the long wig I thought I looked rather nice, but the curly hair seems to suit me much better. Odd to think that shorter hair makes me more feminine.
I was glad to be wearing my engagement ring a few times, sort of posting a 'back off' sign for some of the less inhibited types. Sorry, but I seem to be basically lesbian in my outlook, I can appreciate a good-looking guy but women make my heart go pitter-patter.
On the whole, that's better than having some other parts of my body take notice. Love hurts, eh?
Wednesday, October 23
Mary Ann and I got our new licenses today, mine with the little X under gender. Not a problem, just a couple of hours sitting on hard wooden chairs waiting for the wheels to grind. Naturally they made my new hairdo look ugly, but what do you want from a license photo. I think they use a special filter to make your picture look like you're headed for a life sentence in a maximum security prison.
Now all we have to do is wait for them to mail us the actual license in a couple of weeks.
Friday, October 25
Visit with Audrey today. The major topic was my weekend in the woods with the girls. What did I think? How did I react? Any guilt at being a male among naked women?
When I told her I felt like just another girl in the group she homed in on my halfway between male and female status. Was I satisfied? Shouldn't I make a choice and stick to it? She asked a lot more questions than usual, but by the end of the session she just smiled and told me she thought I was doing splendidly and we could cut back to once a month unless some crisis occurred.
Nice to know I'm coping well. Sometimes I'm not so sure.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Dress shopping with Eve and Mary Ann. I'm getting a real kick out of being a bridesmaid, something I never aspired to in my wildest dreams. Some of the girls I know on campus are addicted to something called Say Yes To The Dress and can go on for hours about finding the perfect wedding gown. Hey - I love wearing dresses and enjoy shopping on my rather limited budget, but really! I just can't get into gushing about this neckline or that train or who knows what else.
Eve seems to agree, she says that a lady in her seventies is not going to be wearing a wedding gown that leaves her tits practically bare. I think she's right, a grandmotherly lady with soft, gray hair isn't out to make all the men wish they were marrying her instead of the lucky guy waiting at the end of the aisle.
Eve's daughter Marissa and granddaughter Nichole made the drive in from their place a couple of hours away, so I got to meet them. It's strange to be a bridesmaid along with a woman old enough to be my mother - this being an adult can get confusing. I was almost used to calling people my parents' age by their first name by this time, but it still struck me as slightly disrespectful. When in Rome, as Grandpa says.
Nichole, Mary Ann and I got along splendidly while we were waiting around for Eve to try on yet another dress. Actually, the bridesmaid's dresses were pretty easy, Eve wanted a pastel rainbow so we each got the same dress in a different shade. Marissa was in rose, Nichole in a pale orange, I got yellow and Mary Ann got violet
I was surprised that we all got white shoes and then they were sent out to be dyed to match each dress. I never heard of such a thing. Oh well, one more thing I missed learning growing up a boy. I really wish someone would write a manual so I knew all these little things about being a girl.
Eve's bridal gown was very simple, not like some of the over-the-top creations I've seen at weddings in my former church. Scoop neck, three-quarter sleeves, hemline just below the knee (Eve still has legs worth showing off) and white, of course. I have to laugh since, according to Reverend Tally, white signifies the virginal state of the bride. Pretty weird when her daughter and granddaughter are her bridesmaids.
Tradition is made to be flouted. Just look at how I'm living my life.
I shudder to think how much all this is going to cost, and it's a simple wedding compared to some. Once again I have to be thankful that Grandpa and Eve have adopted me into their family, I have no idea how I could have survived if they hadn't .
How ironic that a self-professed atheist would display more Christian charity than a man who crams his faith down his family's throats. I have been told innumerable times that God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to pursue. Odd He should be using an atheist to make His point.
Thursday, October 30
Interesting discussion in the student union today. I was hanging out with Nick and Erin just shooting the breeze about whether we should go the the concert this weekend when the people at the next table got into a rather heated discussion. OK, shouting match.
Kate and Virginia, two of the more vocal feminists on campus were being annoyed by a couple of self-professed men's rights champions. Now anybody in their right mind should know such confrontations are as effective as a staring contest with a statue but that never seems to stop the true believers.
As the volume began to rise more and more people paid attention, including Erin (my resident lesbian buddy) and myself, our resident ostensible lesbian with a penis. Naturally, nobody knows about my penis.
What caught my attention was one dude quoting Colossians 3:18. "Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord." Interesting that the guy should be literate in the Bible but lost to rational thought. I've certainly become a feminist as I become more feminine.
Nick did a face plant on hearing that one and Erin just looked at me and said "Want to have some fun, Angel?"
"Why the heck not?" I replied
"Yo dude," sang out Erin. I ain't married so your patriarchal line of bullshit doesn't apply to me, and I have to wonder how any woman would want to marry someone like you with that attitude. You're going to be awfully lonely all by yourself."
"Now Erin," I said, "He don't look so bad to me. Knock off twenty pounds, some elevator shoes and a haircut and he might even be presentable."
"You need higher standards, girl. Why is it that the ones that can't get a girl are always spouting off about what a girl should do?"
"Be nice, Erin," threw in Nick, "just because he didn't pay any attention when his mamma tried to civilize him doesn't mean he's a complete looser."
"Who asked you to but in, buster?"
"Actually, when someone mounts his soapbox and starts declaiming it does invite public discussion."
"Uh Nick?" Erin asked. "If he had a soapbox, then logically he would have so access to soap and would have cleaned himself up a little better."
"I guess if he had a soapbox he could have stored a few reasonable arguments in it instead of that old biblical crap."
"The Bible is the inerrant Word of the Lord!"
"Which Bible do you mean?" I asked. "The Hebrew one? The Roman Catholic one? The Orthodox one? The Protestant one? The Lord has a whole lot of words to choose from."
I have been immersed in Bible Studies for as long as I could read, I just didn't buy the fundamentalist take on Biblical history. Good training for a future historian.
"Huh?"
"It sounded like you were quoting the King James version. You do know it was edited by a bunch of guys who never read the original texts and were trying hard to please the King so they could keep their heads attached?"
"Now Angel," purred Erin, "you're making it too complicated for these guys. I'd tell them about that the high muckety-mucks of the church argued for hundreds of years about what belonged in the bible and what didn't, but these guys like simple answers."
The two women who were the focus of the macho men were smiling at us.
"They don't seem to realize that there are people who are not Christian, and thus don't give a shit about what the bible says," Kate said with a smile.
"I suppose the next argument will be that women need men to protect them. I've always liked that one. Problem is, when they find out I like girls suddenly I ain't worth protecting any more," I added.
"Oh, you poor thing! I suppose Mary Ann could shove a five inch spike heel into some guy's crotch if he gets nasty."
I've never actually seen a guy turn green before. It really can happen!
"If that doesn't work I do have a black belt on my gi. I'd be glad to protect you, darling," Erin said in a sickeningly sweet voice.
"And don't forget there are people in this world that don't fall into the binary women-or-men gender stereotype," offered Virginia.
Uh-oh! This could get interesting!
"You mean the whole Bible thing about he made them man and and woman night be in error. Heavens!" I cried. "I thought he was just saying the Bible couldn't be wrong."
"Yeah, dude," challenged Erin. "What do you do with transgender people? When they're in transition, how do you tell which half should submit to the other half?"
A darn good question, if I do say so myself! Good thing I don't have to answer it.
"Look guys, none of us are in the market for what you're selling. Why don't you just move on and let us live our own lives? We'll be happy to let you do the same, as long as we don't have to listen to your bullshit."
They gave up, rather ungracefully it must be said, and moved on. And that's how I got to meet Kate and Virginia and make a couple of new friends.
"Hey Erin," asked Kate, "how did you come up with that transgender stuff? That really knocked them for a loop!"
"When you're an open lezzie we get to meet a few trans types, don't we Angel?"
"Can't argue with you about that, Erin. I do know someone like that rather well."
About time to change the subject! Please?
"You ought to bring her around sometimes - or should I say him?"
"I'm not sayin'. Privileged information. Besides, you use the pronoun that matches the appearance."
"Too bad. I'd love to hear what they would have to say to those dudes."
Little did she know!
Tuesday, November 12
Election Day. Sad to think that this is the first time I could have voted but I was too late to register as living at Grandpa's house by the time that became permanent. I did sign up when I had my license changed, but I'm going to have to wait until next year.
Grandpa and Eve were up and out to the polls early, even though this is only an off-year election. I'm going to have to start paying attention to local politics so I can vote intelligently next year.
Monday, November 18
Today the professor touched on how some of the classical theorists in psychology talked about gender, obviously a topic near to my heart - or should I say to my faux breasts? Freud claimed that gender identity emerges when children identify with their same-sex parent. For him, "healthy" gender development meant cleansing one's self of the "other" gender and that male and female identities essentially develop by repression of a natural bisexuality and emulating the same-sex parent. Considering how much influence my father had on me, I have to wonder why I'm sitting here looking - and feeling - like a female.
Alfred Adler had some different ideas that pissed off Freud. He thought that personality was not based on sexuality but on the individual's movement from a feeling of inferiority or inadequacy. Adler claimed that the most powerful expression of this movement was in protest against masculine privilege, which both women and men experienced in society. The guy was almost modern in some of his ideas.
Jung talked about the inner man and inner woman - wonder how that applies to me? I'm an inner man who lives as an outer woman. The more the prof talked about those old guys who founded psychology the more obvious it becomes that they were sexist to the core. I suppose that since their society was sexist to the core, it isn't surprising they thought that way.
The learned types have been arguing about this for a century or more, poor little me just has to laugh when I put on my bra in the morning. If these guys couldn't agree about gender then I'll just have to keep doing my own thing as long as it makes me happy.
Friday, November 22
Philosophy was interesting this morning. Instead of looking at a philosopher who is a bit out of the mainstream we looked at what a philosopher could do to make a living if he (or she!) doesn't land an academic job.
I have to wonder why the prof decided to talk about this particular topic! I guess the life of an adjunct professor isn't the most stable way to make a living.
Seems he isn't the only one - lots of people have thought about it. They came up with ideas like working in a big HR department, human service jobs, advising law firms about ethics, publishing, real estate, even going into the ministry. Thinking about ethics and philosophy can be helpful just about anywhere.
I guess you might have to be learn to be philosophical abut being an unemployed philosopher.
I suppose thinking philosophically will be a great help in my ambition to become a historian. I had no idea how much I was going to learn by going to college.
Audrey wasn't so full of hard questions this time, She was very complimentary about my new look, even though she was one of the first people to see me with short, curly hair. We talked about the friends I had made at college, how Mary Ann and I were getting along at different schools, what was going to happen at Thanksgiving.
I admitted I was a bit nervous about meeting Eve's family, but was looking forward to having Mary Ann's family there. I just wish my own family could have been there, but my father was still adamant. I had talked to Mom a couple of times and she seems to have found a way to reconcile my gender change with her faith.
Too bad Dad can't find the Bible verses she has, ones that talk about acceptance and love instead of exclusion and prejudice. She brought up an interesting take on Genesis 1:27. "So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. That's the same quote I tossed at those two yahoos in the Union a while back.
Male and female, eh? Doesn't that perfectly describe me? One of my Jewish friends at school has told me how Rabbis can split hairs better than the most skilled barber, coming up with a plethora of interpretations about the simplest piece of text.
OK, it may be semantics, but it is something to think about.
As a side issue, she told me that Conservative rabbis have passed a resolution supporting the transgendered. Not all religious people are fanatics.
One more to think about: Galatians 3:28 "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus."
Maybe Dad is right that you can find all the answers in The Book. Just depends where you look.
I got sidetracked again, I was talking about talking with Audrey.
Audrey pointed out that even if I wasn't estranged from my family, all couples face the problem of where to go for the holidays. It isn't always practical to get everyone from both sides of the relationship in the same place. What happens when your sister's family wants both sides of their marriage together and you want both sides of yours?"
Compromise, of course. One place for Thanksgiving, another for Christmas, somewhere else for New Years. A big family practically needs to hire a travel agent to figure out the logistics.
In other words, enjoy what you've got and don't pine away over what you don't. Easier to say than to do.
Monday, November 25
School is off for the entire week, but that doesn't mean we can slack off. With sixteen people expected for Thanksgiving dinner there's a lot of planning to do. Both of Grandpa's children and their children are coming as well as Eve's children and her grandchildren. Add in me and that makes sixteen. It's a good thing that Grandpa's place has a big recreation room so we can all fit.
We borrowed a couple of tables and chairs from the Library and set them up, then went shopping. I don't want to mislead anyone - when the word shopping comes up in a transgender story it usually means a gaggle of giggling girls terrorizing the mall and trying on every scrap of clothing that can be found.
Not this time, we went food shopping. Sure, I've helped with the shopping for our little family of four, but shopping for a big meal with sixteen people is a whole 'nother kettle of fish. I know we're having turkey, but my grandmother was fond of that saying so I thought I would work it in since I wasn't going to be seeing my family any time soon.
We filled two shopping carts with goodies. Eve and Grandpa were determined that we would be serving everything fresh and from scratch. We were even going to bake our own bread for the stuffing. There were apples, onions, peppers, squashes, bread flour, yeast, pecans, walnuts, fruits, Jello, and I don't know what all. Eve tried to explain what everything was for, but I soon lost track. I may be starting to be a decent cook, but I'm still new at it.
We were even planning to go out to a turkey farm on Wednesday for a fresh, organic turkey that hadn't been injected with whatever they inject turkeys with so you don't have to baste them. Then Eve had to explain just what 'basting' meant.
My culinary education is going to take a giant leap this week.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Turkey day. No, not the day we eat the turkey but the day we get the turkey. Seems like a lot of fuss to get a turkey when the supermarket had piles of them in the freezer, but Eve swears it's worth the effort for a fresh organic turkey.
I don't suppose the turkey cares either way, so after breakfast we went out to the garage where Grandpa handed me the keys and told me that since I now had my shiny new license I was going to drive while he and Eve fooled around in the back seat.
The look on Mary Ann's face was priceless. I don't know if she was more worried about my driving or her Grandfather's lechery. There's a reason that Grandpa is the Liar-in-chief.
So I carefully backed the car out and, following Eve's directions, headed out of the city to the suburbs and then to the farms beyond the suburbs. Having spent almost all of my life in a small city, I always appreciated seeing the open country and the farms. I still think it's cool to see cows and horses just wandering around a field.
I didn't really know what to expect of a turkey farm, but what I found was a nice old house and several long, low aluminum sided buildings with these giant fans blowing fresh air into the interior. What I didn't see was any turkeys. Turns out they were mostly in the refrigerators or on a refrigerated truck bound for a warehouse somewhere.
That's how it works, I suppose. If you're going to eat a turkey you have to kill it first. If you raise them then you have to kill a lot of them. Sometimes reality is not so pretty.
Mary Ann drove back, and we were a bit subdued for a while. Eventually we started talking and threw off our nervousness at the reality of our food supply. Much easier to pick up a plastic wrapped piece of meat without thinking about the cow or pig it came from.
When we got home there was a strange car in the driveway; Eve's daughter Marissa and her family had made better time than they thought and beat us home. Naturally there was a massive hug-fest and Mary Ann and I weren't excluded. There followed the usual chaos of getting people settled, Marissa and husband Leo in the room I thought of as 'Sylvia's Closet' even though we had long since removed her clothes to my closet or the Goodwill.
The kids, Nichole and Ollie, piled their things in a corner of the rec room since the plan was to have all six of the younger generation sleep there. I use the word 'sleep' with some sardonic humor - did anyone expect six kids to do any sleeping until they were completely exhausted?
No sooner had the hubbub abated than Mary Ann's parents arrived and we did it all over again. They got the red room. It's a good thing Grandpa and Eve have a five bedroom house or Mary Ann and I might be sleeping on the couch for a couple of days.
Preparing dinner was interesting, as Mary Ann and I were subtly inspected by the newcomers. We all managed to work together in the kitchen to come up with something edible that agreed with all appetites. By the time the dishes were washed it looked like Mary Ann and I had passed inspection.
Around eight o'clock Eve and Grandpa took Eve's van to the airport to pick up her other daughter Vicky, who was flying in from somewhere in the Midwest. By ten the adults, which seemed to include Mary Ann and me, were settled in the living room and the kids were doing who-knows-what in the rec room.
Grandpa's daughter and her family would be arriving on Thanksgiving day since her husband Gary was a State Policeman and had to work on Wednesday.
The real surprise was that Eve's ex-husband, Keith, would be joining us for Thanksgiving dinner. Eve had said that she and her ex were on friendly terms, but she didn't talk about him much. I wonder how you can be friendly enough with someone you couldn't live with to invite them to dinner. Well, if Jesus said to love thine enemies, maybe I have something to learn from Eve and her ex.
That makes seventeen for dinner now, but who's counting?
I have plenty of time to write tonight while I'm waiting for the bathroom. One thing nobody thought of was how a whole houseful of people were going to share three bathrooms. One of those is in Grandpa and Eve's bedroom, one in the hall by the bedrooms and one off the rec room. If it's this bad tonight, we may be waiting in line until Saturday for a slot. I just hope nobody has any kind of intestinal distress or it could get ugly.
I'm really glad I have the glue-on forms so that I can be seen by all these strangers without having to wear a bra to the bath. Of course, hanging around in the hall in my bathrobe is rather daunting, but these people are now my family.
Feels strange to say that, but comforting.
Wednesday, November 27
When you plan a big dinner you don't just cook it all on the big day, you have to start early. Wednesday we baked several pies and I found out that rolling out a pie crust and managing to get on top of the pie in one piece is not so easy. The trick is to roll it out on a piece of cloth that has been liberally sprinkled with flour, then pick up the cloth and flip the whole thing over just so. It took me three tries to get it right, but I did do it. I was also covered in flour and was very glad Eve had an oversized apron available or I would have wrecked my dress.
The pumpkin pie was easier because it didn't have a top, but it also wasn't pumpkin. I learned that using squash is better since a squash has less water content than a pumpkin and makes a firmer pie. Most of the flavor comes from the spices, so it doesn't really matter much which one you use.
That brought up 'pumpkin spice' whatever that you see advertised all over the place. My culinary advisers told me that all the pumpkin spice flavor is from the spice - no pumpkin involved except for some ad-man's fertile imagination.
Who would have known?
I said something about my mother's Jello salad that we had every Thanksgiving and how I was going to miss it. Naturally the assembled brain trust immediately tried to figure out what was in it and how to make it. I knew there were walnuts and bananas in red Jello, and I remember Mom saying something about a can of cranberry sauce.
Before I knew what was happening someone had their laptop out and started Googling and darned if there wasn't the recipe out there in cyberland. It looked like Mom's Jello salad, all it needed was some chopped walnuts to make it like I remembered. My knuckles were threatened with mayhem if I sampled it and left a hole in the surface, though. There are some rather forceful women in this family.
Thursday, November 28
Lest you should get the impression that we women held exclusive domain over the kitchen, Grandpa and Uncle Martin (all the middle generation were aunts and uncles) were in the thick of things as well. I acquired a small shadow, cousin Linda (Gary and Alma's youngest - there will be a family tree test coming soon) seems to have decided I was her personal favorite aunt. I did what I could to have her help me in the kitchen. I've learned we should pass on what I've learned to the next generation!
She's six years old and cute as a bug. She knows it all too well and trades on it mercilessly, but she's too cute to get annoyed. Hint - don't ask a six year old to help you mix flour for biscuits - and be sure to wear a big apron if you do!
Even though I'd grown used to eating in a lady-like manner over the past months, it's hard to do so at Thanksgiving. I mean, you just have to try everything! Then when you've decided what the best stuff was you just have to get seconds.
I just may have to buy a sports bra and take up jogging to make up for that dinner. Maybe I'll abandon my skirts for elastic waist sweat pants, fashion be damned!
I'm impressed at how well both families got along together. Everyone pitched in to clean up and put away the leftovers, then we all gathered in the rec room and talked to each other.
The adults made sure the kids were included. Mary Ann and I, being smack in the middle between kid and adult, were in that funny spot where you're not sure where you stand. We played with the kids while the adults looked on and we spent time talking to the adults as equals! A far cry from my extended family, where children are expected to listen and not speak unless spoken to.
The other thing that impressed me is that everybody accepted that Mary Ann and I were a couple. Period. Not even a raised eyebrow. Sure, we got some discrete questions, but the questions were because the people were interested in who these new women in the family were.
Somewhere in the general conversation, Grandpa let slip the date of their wedding. (As if it were accidental, right!) They had decided to get married on New Year's Eve at the Liar's Club New Year's Party. After all, most of their friends were members so it made sense.
Once again chaos reigned. By the time the congratulations waned we got Grandpa to tell us how they met, with Eve doing the color commentary.
While both Grandpa and Eve had grown up and raised families here, they were on opposite sides of the town so their children didn't really know each other.
Grandpa and Eve had met when he married Sylvia, Eve was Sylvia's maid of honor and best friend. Eve and her husband Keith had split after their children were grown but remained friends. When Sylvia got sick Eve was able to be there to help her best friend make it through her terminal illness.
It was almost like a romance novel, the two of them were thrown together as they cared for Sylvia, and eventually found love after enough time had passed.
It was an awkward romance at first, but Grandpa is nothing if not ready to shatter old traditions. They lived together for several years until Grandpa proposed the same evening as Mary Ann proposed to me.
Romantic, eh? Just one of many family stories told that night. I wished I could have told how my obsession with bras had ended up with me and Mary Ann as an ostensible lesbian couple, but we had decided that some things were best left unsaid no matter how liberal the family might be. The truth had to come out sometime, but there was no hurry.
As Grandpa says, knowing where to stop is half the battle when telling a story.
So I'm gonna stop right here!
Thursday, December 12
What do I get Mary Ann for Christmas? I'm trying to be frugal with the college funds I have in the bank, it does have to last me long enough to get a degree and college isn't cheap. I'm going to apply for every scholarship I can find but still… I can't say just how blessed I am to have Grandpa and Eve willing to have us live with them while we study, there is no way we could survive without their kindness.
Mary Ann and I have found things for Grandpa and Eve but what to get for Mary Ann? There's always new clothes, but I want her present to be special. Funny how when I thought I was a boy I hated getting clothes for Christmas or my birthday. I don't quite understand why getting clothes as a girl should be so exciting - I'm still me, but I guess I really have changed. A lot.
Just look in the mirror. Duh!
Which isn't getting me any closer to finding a gift.
Friday, December 13
My session with Audrey is a week early since next week is exams. Actually, we didn't talk about the gender issues much as things have been going well. I was a little worried about exams, but she reassured me that all students get worried no matter how good they are.
I talked with her about going home for Christmas and what might happen if my father caused any problems. I hoped that I could see my mother and sister without causing problems, but my main worry was what my friends would think of me as I am now.
So we talked strategies and how to approach various people in different ways. How would my friends react? How would I handle people who didn't know me well but felt they had to make comments on my personal life?
Basically she said to be myself and don't apologize. Explain if people will listen, don't allow anyone to get too personal and remember how right it feels to be who I am.
I just hope I can remember it all and remain calm.
Then Audrey blew my mind.
"Angel, as far as I can tell, you've made it through the semester without anyone knowing you're trans except the administration. That, my friend, is remarkable.
"I think you know just how close to the line I've been skating as both a friend and your therapist. I've never done anything like that before and I doubt I ever will again; I just hope the medical society doesn't get wind of the whole thing.
"Now, I've never known you as anything but a lovely young woman, and I find it hard to imagine you as a boy or even a man, which I think you realize is rather unusual. Of all the transgendered clients I have had you seem to be the most well adjusted and content in my experience. Perhaps it's because I knew you as a person before Earle sent you to see me that I've let the line slip.
"In any case, since you are not contemplating either hormone therapy or genital reassignment, I feel confident that breast augmentation would be in your best interest even though you have not lived as a woman for the usual year. Even if you do decide to revert, implants are fairly easy to remove without a lot of adverse impact.
"So whenever you're ready, I have a list of several surgeons in the area that you can talk to to arrange your implants, and may you be as pleased by them as you think you will be."
Talk about your early Christmas presents! When I told Mary Ann she was as excited as I was. Now all we have to do is talk to the doctor and figure out how to pay for it all.
And no, I haven't forgotten Mary Ann's offer to pay for them, but I still wonder if it's asking too much.
Sunday, December 15
Exams coming up this week. I'm pretty confident I'll do well, but there is always that little doubt niggling at you. Not that I've been idle, studying, buying Christmas presents, decorating the house. That and going crazy waiting for an opportunity to call those doctors about my implants.
I did buy some small presents for my parents and sister, I need to make the effort to see them when we go to Mary Ann's place for Christmas. I don't have much hope that Dad will understand, but they are my family and family is important at Christmas. Jesus spoke about forgiveness quite often, I still believe He was someone who can inspire me to be a better person by following His teachings.
It would be sweet to have my new and old families reconciled to what I have become. I can't go back to being Angel the Boy, but I hope Angel the Person is someone worth knowing.
Monday, December 16
Oddly, I got the answer to finding Mary Ann's gift in the psychology exam this morning. There were questions about family relations and - of course! - dysfunction. Which made me realize I should call her brother Dale and ask him if he has any bright ideas. I had to slap myself and put my mind back on the exam after getting another bright idea.
Tuesday, December 17
Sometimes you have to admit I can be blind as a bat when the answer is right there in front of me. I knew that Mary Ann is an architecture student. I knew that she loves the work of Frank Lloyd Wright. I knew that one of his most famous buildings, Falling Water, was in Pennsylvania. Despite all that knowledge being in my head, it took a call to Dale to put it all together.
After checking with Grandpa to borrow the car, I reserved a deluxe tour for two of Falling Water for over the winter vacation. The trip is long enough that we will be spending overnight in a nice hotel, so I get a benefit from her present as well.
Thanks, Dale!
Wednesday, December 18
No exams today, so I spent an hour or so calling doctors on Audrey's list. The fourth one had a cancellation available on Monday, so I took it. I can hardly wait, I may actually get real breasts, or as real as I can get without hormone therapy.
Wow!
Friday, December 20
Exams over, Mary Ann and I are both vegetables. Grandpa just smirks wisely at us sprawled on the couch together, Eve gave him one of her behave yourself, Earle! looks.
Neither one of us were wearing skirts, so being sprawled was not as bad as it could have been. December in Pennsylvania is cold, even I am not dumb enough to wear a skirt unless I'm going out somewhere fancy. I did make one attempt to ride the bus in a skirt on the first really cold day and I have become a believer in pants on women.
Eve laughed at me, telling me how her father wouldn't allow any of his daughters to wear pants when she was young. Women wore skirts and that was that. Sounds like another father I could name. She didn't get her first pair of pants until she was away at college.
There must be something ironic about her granddaughter-in-almost-law wanting to wear skirts as much as she wanted to wear pants. People are perverse.
Funny thing, though. It may be colder here than back in New York, but we get a lot less snow here than back home. At least here I don't have to shovel snow - a man's responsibility, by the way - because Grandpa hires a plowing service to do the job.
Monday, December 23
Everything was packed into Eve's van but we had to wait for me to see the doctor. Mary Ann and I used Grandpa's car to save time over the bus and we got to spend an hour with the woman. We had done some intensive research over the weekend, updating what we had found when we started thinking about implants for me.
Since the FDA doesn't think I'm old enough for silicone implants (my first choice) I'm pretty much limited to structured saline types. Everything the doctor told us agreed with what we already knew, so that part was taken care of.
The Surgeon was concerned because I hadn't done the full RLT, but the letter from Audrey worked some magic. Apparently she has quite the reputation among people who deal with the transgendered. So I got examined (I had unglued my forms the night before) and she didn't find anything to concern her.
Now came finding a date. I wanted it as soon as possible so I would be recovered before the next semester, which started on January 20th. Figuring two weeks of recovery before the worst of the pain was over, that meant surgery as soon after the New Year as possible. My luck must have been working overtime because there was an opening on January 7th. I couldn't tell Mary Ann, but that meant we could visit Falling Water just after New Years while I was feeling good. Driving several hours with aching breasts didn't sound like the best of ideas to me!
So we left the doctor and talked to the money people in the office. I was still covered by my parent's health insurance. Even if my father had disowned me, there was no way to take me off the family plan from his job. I was surprised that the plan covers some of the expenses - not much, but every little bit helps.
Grandpa and Eve didn't have to ask any questions when we got back, the smiles on our faces told the whole story.
We were on our way back home. I have to think about that word home a bit though. For eighteen years the house my family lived in was home. Now Grandpa's house is my home. Our home, the place where I want to return to at the end of the day.
I vaguely remember a quote that goes something like home is where they have to let you back in the door. I thought it was kind of funny until I discovered that I am happier living life as a woman, living with a woman. I tried to find out who said it on line, but came up dry. I did find one by F. Scott Fitzgerald, an author whose work usually leaves me cold, but he was spot on this time.
"It's a funny thing about coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realized what's changed is you."
I was going back home, not to the house I grew up in, but to the home where I am welcomed with open arms, the home where Mary Ann grew up. I'm satisfied with my choices - no, make that joyful with my choices - but it still hurts that my father was so willing to abandon me because of his fanatic faith.
How can God approve of a father rejecting his child? Doesn't the Bible have several stories that warn against just such actions? Maybe Christmas will bring a change of heart. I can only hope.
It was strange to enter Mary Ann's old house. The last time I was there I was her boyfriend and we were leaving for Grandpa's house for the summer. I had never been in her bedroom without both feet on the floor and the door open.
Things have changed a bit.
I know that Mom and Pop know we are sleeping together, after all they had come to visit at Grandpa's place and it was plenty obvious. However, sleeping together in her bedroom at her old house was more than a little strange. After all, my parents are still living only a couple of blocks away. I can't help but feeling time warped back to last May before my life changed so drastically.
When we did close the door to the bedroom, Mary Ann took off her clothes and didn't put on a nightgown. She practically undressed me all by herself and dragged me into the bed. I guess making love in the bed where you slept growing up with your parents' blessing is a real turn on.
Somehow, I doubt I'll ever be able to reciprocate. We did manage to be quiet, though.
Tuesday, December 24
Christmas Eve, a quiet day for the most part. In Mary Ann's family the day is spent together and the family gathers for a festive meal. They don't do a big Christmas dinner in her family, but the reason belongs in what I'm going to write tomorrow.
Aunt Allison's family was coming over for dinner; the Aunt Allison who unknowingly supplied the first properly fitting bra I ever wore. Now I'm wearing my own bras and I get to meet her for the first time in my new persona. I haven't asked if Mary Ann told her aunt just what went on while we were babysitting Emily.
You could almost call Aunt Allison's expression a smirk, but she happily handed Emily to me when it came time for feeding. Naturally, Emily is old enough now to sit in a high chair and get fed mush these days. I suppose there are prettier names for what she eats, but it still looks like mush to me. I did sneak her a couple of things off my plate and she was perfectly happy gumming them to death.
Her diapers don't smell any better for the passage of time, either. There's a lot more of her to make poop with, too. Aunt Angel to the rescue!
Having breasts to hold a baby to is one of the most wonderful feelings in the world. Too bad I won't have the implants for a few weeks yet.
Wednesday, December 25
Christmas!
I woke up sinfully late, Mary Ann still sleeping beside me. For the first time in my memory my sister wasn't banging at my door demanding I get up and open presents. For every gain there is a loss. Loving Mary Ann is the finest thing I have ever had happen in my life, yet…
I couldn't help it. If Deborah could drag me out of bed on Christmas morning then I could take a cue from her and wake Mary Ann up. Of course I wouldn't use the bang-on-the-door method.
I briefly considered an entirely different kind of bang but good sense prevailed. I started kissing the back of her neck. She shifted but didn't wake. Nibbling on the earlobe? That brought forth a few odd noises and a wiggle or two. I do love watching Mary Ann's body wiggle, so I nibbled some more.
She rolled over. So I kissed her nipple a few times and her eyes fluttered open.
"Mmmmmm…"
"Want to see if Santa has been here, darling?"
"In a minute…"
So I went back to kissing her nipples. Far more effective than door-banging.
More fun, too.
I started working my way downward and when I reached her navel she swatted me.
"What would Santa think?"
"Too late, he's been and gone. He wouldn't remember if I was naughty after a whole year."
"But I would."
"So, should I be naughty?"
"Don't tempt me."
"Why"
Because I want to see you open your presents, that's why."
"Good idea. I want to see you open yours."
So we got up.
I can't tell you how nice it was not to have to put on that wig or stuff a bra with falsies before I could leave the room. That in itself was almost like a Christmas Present.
Is this how adults do Christmas morning? Bathrobes, slippers, coffee, bacon, bagels, eggs? No running to the fireplace to grab your stocking? No tearing just a little bit of the paper to see what's underneath?
No Bible readings and reminders that it is Jesus Birthday? I can get used to that part of how the Wilsons celebrated Christmas. Actually, I kind of wondered why they celebrated at all, since they were avowed atheists. I was going to have to ask, but this was not the time or place.
Before we knew it, Mom had placed identical boxes in our laps and told us to open them first. They turned out to be cell phones, something we had drooled over on occasion but knew we couldn’t afford. We were now on their family plan so we could call them more often to talk.
The reason they had to be opened first was because they had built-in cameras. If you hold still long enough I'll be glad to show you pictures from Christmas morning. No, you don't have to run away, I'll be good.
I have to say that a lot of thought went into the gifts, none of them were mass-produced junk but something crafted with the recipient in mind.
Mary Ann was thrilled with the Falling Water tour and I got a big hug and kiss, along with some good natured jeering. I got a card in return, which I opened and read - a gift certificate for electrolysis so I don't have to shave any more.
Mary Ann's dad about bust his gut laughing, but her Mom offered to get him one so she didn't have to put up with a porcupine in the morning. I'll be glad to get rid of my pitiful excuse for a beard, but I think it would take dozens of sessions to do him any good.
Since I had told Mom & Dad Wilson of my plans to take Mary Ann to Falling water, they decided to gave us four nights in nearby Pittsburgh as a sort of mini-vacation. Like I said, personally crafted gifts. But the cards weren't over. I got one from Grandpa and Eve, and it was an IOU for my augmentation surgery.
Unbelievable! How did I ever end up being a part of such a loving and generous family? Once again my father's voice rang through my head: "The Lord will provide, Angel. Just have faith!"
Talk about your inner conflicts! Even though we couldn't agree on what the Lord wants, I have to believe He is willing to provide what I need.
I was pleased to see that the Wilsons were paper shredders, not paper savers like my family. I was always too excited to carefully unwrap a present to save the paper. Waste not, want not I know, but come on!
So how did we spend Christmas Day if we weren't in church? Seems the Wilsons have taken a hint from their Jewish friends. There are two places in the retail world that are open on Christmas: the movie theaters and Chinese restaurants.
So we went to see How the Grinch Stole Christmas, which was silly but OK, then we ordered one of just about everything on the menu at Ling's and shared it all among us.
I could get used to this, especially the part about not having to wear a suit all day so we could go back to church for the Christmas night service. Well, actually a part of me wanted to go to that service just like I have done for all of my life. I finally decided to stay home; worship services should be calm and respectful, a time for contemplation and renewal. My mere presence would make that impossible, so I was not going to disturb the worship of others.
I laughed at 'Christmas and Easter Christians,' but was that what I was becoming? Gains and losses, I think I've gained much more than I've lost, but I miss my parents and my sister.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
I have a decision to make, and I've been putting it off. Mary Ann and I have been tossing around our options and her family has been able to offer some pretty good advice, but the decision is mine in the end. No, that's not completely true. Mary Ann and I have to make the decision together as it affects the both of us.
Do we go and visit our old friends and introduce Angel the Girl or do we stay home and hibernate. It's awful scary to tell people you've known all your life that you've changed sexes. Neither of us regret it, but it's going to come as a shock. It could even piss some people off so badly there could be trouble.
We had just about come to the conclusion that we needed to be honest with everyone, since this was how we were going to live the rest of our lives. Just then the phone rang and Mom hollered up for Mary Ann. She picked up the extension and answered.
"Hey Jake! Yeah, we're back for Christmas."
She looked at me and I nodded.
"We'd love to come over. We'll be there in ten minutes but Jake… Get ready for a shock."
I heard some gabbling from the receiver, but she pushed the button and cut it off.
Decision made.
Despite the cold, I was determined to wear a skirt for my hometown debut. A long velvet skirt, thick tights and a warm blouse. Only two inch heels since there is still ice out there and a nice, warm coat. No hat, since I didn't really have one that went with the outfit. I would just have to tough out the block walk to Jake's place.
We climbed the steps and Mary Ann rang the bell. The door opened almost instantly and Jake was there.
"Mary Ann! Good to see you! And who's this?"
"Really Jake, I told you to be ready for a shock. You don't recognize Angel, your best friend?"
See why I love her? She can be such a smartass!
Jake was speechless. I haven't been able to do that very many times in all the years I've known him.
"No way!"
"Way, Jake," I answered. "I've changed a bit since I left home."
"Jesus Christ on a pogo stick!"
"Think my Dad could locate the verse where he hops around on one?"
"Your… Dad?"
"Jake, are you going to leave us standing out here or invite us in?" asked Mary Ann.
"Oh yeah. Come in. Jesus, Mom and Dad are going to freak!"
"Looks like you're freaking enough for the entire family."
"Damn! It is you! Where did that hair come from?"
"My very own follicles on my very own head. It just never got the chance to grow before my Dad whacked it off. Since he disowned me I don't have to have a brush cut any more."
"He did what?"
"He didn't take it very well, Jake. I'm disowned, disinherited, disbarred, disreputable, distasteful, disgraced, disaffiliated, disappointing, discountenanced and disrespected."
"What she means is her father threw her out of the house and she's living with me at Grandpa's place."
"No shit?"
"There was a lot of shit, but we lived through it. Oh, yeah - we're engaged, too."
We both waved our rocks in his face.
"I gotta sit down. This is too much!"
"Not a bad idea, old buddy," I said.
"Jeez, even your voice is changed."
Thanks, Jake. It took some work."
Shaking his head, we went into the living room and sat down. No sooner than we had settled - with me sweeping my long skirt under me, much to Jake's astonishment, when his mother called out.
"Are they here, Jake?"
"Yes we are, Mrs Peters. Did Jake warn you we had a surprise?"
"Surprise?" said as she came in.
"Oh yeah, Mom. Meet Angel 2.0. They do amazing things these days when you go to college out of town."
"Angel?"
"Yup. Hi Mrs Peters."
"What's going on?"
"You watch Orange is the New Black?"
"Sure."
"Think Laverne Cox and you have it."
Laverne Cox? Wait… You're not…"
"Well, I'm not going to jail."
"Then you're… what do they call it?"
"Transgender. It took me a while to figure it out, but there it is."
"And she's engaged, Mom," Jake added. "They both are. To each other."
"Oh my!"
So we went through the whole thing with Jake and his Mom. It didn't take long for the word to spread among my friends, gossip this juicy never does. Naturally, my little sister got the news and appeared on Mary Ann's door, with my mother half a pace behind, before we had been back from Jake's place more than half an hour. Naturally, Dad was at work and didn't know a thing.
I doubted that would last very long, someone from the church was bound to gleefully spread the news, Christian charity being the force it was.
It's a good thing none of us were wearing makeup or we all would have looked a mess after crying our eyes out. I really can understand tears of joy these days. Mom (Wilson, that is) was right there to sit us all down with tea and cookies so we could have a chance to recover.
Mom loved the engagement rings. (I had told her in one of our phone calls, so at least that wasn't a surprise.) Jake's Dad joined us when they got back and we talked until Mom had to go home to start dinner.
She was disappointed that we were going back Saturday morning, but there was a wedding to attend and we couldn't miss it.
"Wedding?" she asked.
That started a whole new round of stories. Dad's dinner ended up being late and Mom and Debby were invited to the wedding. When Mom found out that I was going to be a bridesmaid she got a very determined look on her face and I knew Dad's objections didn't have a chance. She would scrupulously obey every one of Dad's edicts until she got her way.
I've seen Eve do the same thing with Grandpa and wonder if it is some gender-based magic available only to women. Would it work between me and Mary Ann since we were both women? That ought to be interesting to see over the next few years.
By the time Mom left and we got home, we all decided it was too late to fix dinner so we went out. I did give Mom a quick call to tell her where we were going, just in case she talked Dad into eating out because things were late.
Nice try, but I guess she decided the potential for an explosion was too high if we accidentally ran into each other at the restaurant.
Too bad.
Friday, December 27
So much for a day spent relaxing. Once Mom Wilson knew about the party at Jake's she and Mary Ann decided that emergency action was needed. There was still enough of the old Angel in me to say 'it's only a party in Jake's basement with our friends, what's the big deal?'
I quickly had my attitude adjusted.
This was our coming out party! Only the best would be acceptable. Besides, we didn't have a thing to wear!
OK, that I could agree with - we hadn't planned on all this hooraw and fuss when we packed. So we were awakened in time to be at the first dress shop when they opened at ten AM. Mom's credit card was cleaned, oiled and ready for action; her daughters were going to shine like the jewels they were!
At one time I thought the fittings for the bridal gowns were arduous - we tore through shop after shop in search of the perfect dress, this task made all the harder by the absolute need to find two matching dresses in complimentary colors with necklines high enough to hide my faux assets and hemlines allowing us to show off our legs properly, and the hell with the temperature outside - this is fashion! And there was a time limit - we had to be at the salon by two PM for the works.
I had no idea being a girl could be this complicated! How had I managed to live these past seven months as Angel the Girl without learning all these requirements? I shut up, raised my hands and let them slide dress after dress over my body, then spun around to be examined with a microscope. Finally, at 12:06 on the dot (I looked at the clock on my new cell phone so I know to the minute) the fashionistas approved. We didn't get out of there without some new earrings and necklaces to go with the dresses.
Must be nice to be able to just go into the store and drop that kind of money for a party, no matter how important the occasion might be. I didn't grow up poor, but this was a whole new level in my experience. I thought shopping at the Goodwill was a pretty big deal, but what do I know?
We barely had time for lunch. I know I must have broken some kind of rule by not having a small salad and a diet whatever, but I was hungry! I figured if my body was the right size to live as a girl after eating like I wanted to for all of my life, I really didn't need to starve myself to be a fashion model or something.
I did go for veggies instead of fries, but there are limits to what I will do for beauty. Mary Ann agrees with me, and she threw caution to the winds and had the fries, so I could snitch some of them.
At least I knew what to expect at the salon. I was re-permanented and my curls touched up. Just how they get away with calling it a permanent when it is anything but permanent I really can't tell you, but my longer hair looked even better by the time they were done. Mom brought in the dresses so they could match the nail colors and both hands and feet got the treatment. They even painted little flowers on my fingernails, the things people can think of to add an extra charge to the bill!
OK, I'm going to stop being so cynical. It ain't ladylike, or so Mary Ann tells me, and she should know. I was going to question why I needed my toes painted when it was too cold out to wear sandals, but I carefully didn't ask.
The painting didn't stop with our nails, no sir. (No ma'am?) We were smeared with various arcane substances and brushed and polished and plucked to a fare-thee-well. When the whole thing was done I was turned around to face the mirror and was flabbergasted. On odd word, but that's what I was.
If I wasn't already engaged to the most wonderful girl in the world I would have been seriously considering making a pass at the woman in the mirror. She was maybe five years older than I was and obviously a very sophisticated woman indeed!
My oh my! If I thought I gave Jake a turn yesterday I was going to need two pair of handcuffs for the party tonight. One pair for me to keep my hands off my face if something commenced to itch and the other pair for Jake to keep his hands off me or Mary Ann.
While I was recovering, some evil imp invaded my mind and I so wanted to stop by my parents' house on the way to the party so Dad could see me like this. They tell me the EMTs in town have a pretty fast response time, but I suppose I shouldn't take the chance.
Jake's party brought home just how much my life has changed. The last time Mary Ann and I were at one of his parties it was my birthday and we snuck off to do a little petting. In fact, looking back in my diary I find that it was the first time I felt her bra and I was almost as excited to feel her bra as I was her breast. To quote one of those old songs that Eve likes to play, "What a long, strange trip it's been!"
It was almost funny to see how nervous our friends were at the start of the party. I can't say that I blamed them, turning into a woman is a pretty strange thing for a guy to do. I now understand that I was being a guy as much from my father's view of what it means to be a man as from being born with a penis.
I don't think I made such a bad job of being a guy, but more than one friend told me they weren't all that surprised I had made the change. All I know is that I'm much more comfortable living as a woman, penis or no.
Of course I got taken aside more than once to be asked some variation 'you didn't cut it off or anything, did you?' The questions varied a bit but the strained look on the faces were all the same. I just took advantage of my status as a mystery woman and answered with an enigmatic smile, asking 'what do you think?'
Once the shock wore off we had a pretty good time, telling stories about what had happened since graduation. Mary Ann and I both shamelessly swiped some of the lies we had heard at the Liar's Club and retold them in our own fashion. People were interested in the Liar's Club - it sounded like good fun and was something that didn't happen in our small circle of friends.
The girls all set to gushing when they found out Mary Ann and I were going to be bridesmaids. Somehow knowing I was going to be a bridesmaid did more for my credibility as a woman than anything else I could say. I owe Eve a lot for that.
Old F. Scott was right, I had changed, but Home had changed as well. Friends were still friends, but we all had different experiences that made us different people.
But still friends.
Saturday, December 28
Almost a relief to be going home again. And yes, home is now in Grandpa's house and with Mary Ann at my side. Have no doubts of that.
Monday, December 30
Final fittings for our bridesmaid dresses. Lots of giggles and excitement. The house is once again filling up with relatives for the big day. I do enjoy the chaos of a big family gathering, I hope that Mary Ann and I will be able to look fondly out over a sea of children and grandchildren when our time comes.
We gathered at the Library for the rehearsal. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, after all Grandpa knows just about everyone in town and anyone he doesn't know Eve does, but the ceremony was to be conducted by an actual Catholic priest.
Father Henry's humor was as low as Grandpa's, I wish someone like him had been preaching at the church where I grew up. He is living proof that religion doesn't have to be either boring or infused with hellfire.
I'm not sure we even needed a rehearsal, the ceremony was so simple, but I guess tradition must be followed in such things.
Wait a minute - did I just accuse Grandpa of following tradition? I'd better go and lie down and get my head straightened out.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Even though he officially retired some years ago, Grandpa is still a force to be reckoned with at the library. If he needs the community room on New Year's Eve then naturally he gets the community room on New Year's Eve even if the place is shuttered tight. He says he knows just where all the bodies are buried and there's no budget for re-interring them so they just have to let him do what he wants.
Like get married at 11:59 on New Year's Eve. He said he's always wanted to thumb his nose at the IRS by getting hitched with one minute left in the year but being able to claim married status for the entire year. He brushes off the fact that he's retired and doesn't have any earned income to tax, but the whole point is to thumb his nose at the system.
This means the wedding reception will actually happen before the wedding. That's the Grandpa we know and love. Eve has taken to patting his head and saying 'whatever you want, Earle' in a tone that belies the words. I want them both to live to be a hundred and twenty so they have plenty of time together.
We spent the afternoon stringing streamers and positioning balloons in the community room, it was quite festive when we were done. We had a light snack since the reception dinner was scheduled for 7:00 and then helped each other get dressed and made up. I had to laugh - that's twice in a week that I was in full war paint. I hope it doesn't get to be a habit, but I did look pretty nice.
The inverted evening was a real blast - the food was really good, the traditional wedding speeches were quite a bit longer than usual and, being given by members of the Liar's Club, far more interesting and creative than any wedding I have been to.
The DJ played music from Grandpa and Eve's younger days, stuff I only knew from when they played it around the house. I got to dance with more men than I could count, including Charlie Pymm. I'll partner him any time, and give him a kiss for his efforts. I love the look on his face after I plant one on his cheek. I don't think Audrey has broken her professional confidences and told him I'm trans, even though I wouldn't mind him knowing. I'm not going to ask.
The Official Timekeeper called time, the crowd unfolded chairs and set them up in no time flat and the DJ started the traditional wedding march. Grandpa strolled down the aisle in his Mark Twain white suit (but minus the fake cigar) to take his place. Charlie Pymm, acting as best man, escorted Marissa. Mary Ann's brother Dale escorted her, Grandpa's son Gary escorted me and his other son Martin escorted Eve's other daughter Vicky.
At last came the bride, on the arm of her ex-husband Keith who was giving her away. Like I said, tradition took a beating that night!
Father Henry read about love from Tolkien and Rumi but not the Bible. Then came the vows, which I just have to put in word for word because they were so moving I want to be able to remember them. (I transcribed them from the video.)
Grandpa:
Eve, long ago you stood beside your best friend when I married Sylvia. That marriage lasted for over forty years, and I never regretted a day of it. We raised two fine children who have gifted us with loving grandchildren.
You stood beside both me and Sylvia once again as the cancer took her, then stood beside me as I learned to cope without her love and guidance. Now you stand beside me once again and several of those grandchildren are standing beside us.
I can't think of a better definition of love than what we have found, and I intend to stand beside you for the rest of our lives, even if we have to do it in wheelchairs when we get old. We may not have to worry about that because with you standing beside me I don't intend to get old. I intend to share my life with you, to love and cherish you and stay young with you forever.
Eve:
Earle, you old curmudgeon, I never had any intention of falling in love with you or any man after Keith and I called it quits, yet here we are. I gave him away years ago and now he's giving me away in turn.
We've shared a home for years now but we couldn't quite make that leap to get married. It took Mary Ann proposing to Angel to goad us into making that commitment public, and now I gladly stand beside you to become your wife with those two and our other grandchildren standing beside me.
I love you, Earle you old goat, and I'm just glad we decided to go to the Caribbean instead of skiing for our honeymoon so that we don't end up in those wheelchairs too soon.
If it's love that keeps you young then we're going to live forever, and I intend to love, cherish and stand by you for the rest of my life, but you can forget about the 'obey' part, buster!
See why I want to remember exactly what they said? I'm going to have to work hard to be able to say something as lovely to Mary Ann when we get married.
They said 'I do' at exactly 11:59 and walked back down the aisle as the DJ played Auld Lang Sein instead of the usual recessional.
Tradition be damned!
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
The house is finally quiet, Mary Ann and I are alone and completely knackered. Between bidding goodbye to family, shuttling people to the airport and cleaning up the place so we can leave for Falling Water tomorrow, I can barely type, let alone do anything strenuous.
But the new year has been happy so far!
Thursday, January 2
We're settled in at the hotel after a long drive. It was strange actually driving, it has been so long since either of us have driven a car for a trip of more than a few minutes. I suppose it's like the old cliche about bicycles, you don't forget how to do it.
Believe it or not, I've never been in a hotel before. Family vacations were always to a church camp with bunkhouses or family cabins. Bring your own linen and pillows sort of thing. Poor Mom never really got a vacation on our vacations, but Dad never really noticed that.
I was ready to just eat at the hotel restaurant, but Mary Ann, seasoned traveler that she is, nixed the idea. She says hotel restaurants are expensive and mostly mediocre, so we took a walk along the block and found a little Italian place that sure had some good food.
I found out that not all Italian food is covered in tomato sauce and cheese. Who knew? I had Orecchiette con Cime di Rapa which is turnip tops, olive oil, garlic, chili pepper and anchovies. I couldn't pronounce it but I sure did eat it. They offered us wine to go with dinner, but we decided plain water was better. Mary Ann had Cartoccio, Which looked to me to be raviolli, but with mussels and shrimp inside. Pretty classy stuff.
After dinner we decided we may not be on our honeymoon, but there was no reason we couldn't have some fun in bed. I hope Grandpa and Eve were having just as much fun as we did.
Friday, January 3
Mary Ann, the budding architect, was in heaven at Falling water. Even though the place was built in 1938 it looks as modern as anything I have seen. We took the deluxe tour and learned a lot about what a character Wright was in addition to his prowess as an architect.
The historian in me was fascinated by the flamboyant character who had such a profound effect on American architecture. In the gift shop I picked up a copy of Loving Frank, a novel about his scandalous affair with a married woman and her murder by a crazed servant. I figure I'll have plenty of time to read it while I'm recovering from my implant surgery.
Unfortunately, the materials he had to work with in the 1930s weren't up to the job in the long term and there has been a lot of reconstruction to keep it intact. They actually removed the entire flagstone living room floor and reinforced the foundations, then put it all together like a giant jigsaw puzzle. They told us they had to so the same thing for the chimney at one of his other buildings. Mary Ann bought the DVD that tells all about the renovations, one more thing to do when I'm stuck taking it easy.
There are also heavy steel cables buried in the walls of the cantilevered porches to keep them from sinking and level sensors hooked up to some kind of computer system to monitor any movement. Learning the details was mildly interesting for me and absolutely entranced Mary Ann.
Turns out there's another Wright house nearby so we got to see that one, too. Kentuck Knob, it's called. The guy who owns it doesn't live there any more, but lets people tour the place. It's Wright's take on a normal suburban house, if you can use the word 'normal' for anything Wright did. With my recent experience in the kitchen I had to wonder just how he expected anyone to use that little kitchen to feed a family - I guess he grew up with servants that took care of such things and didn't consider kitchen design important.
There's also a very weird collection of art in the yard, I guess you have to learn to appreciate such things.
Monday, January 6
Back home again.
We saw lots of stuff in Pittsburgh, museums and art galleries and whatnot, but I'd rather look at the pictures we took with our new cell phones than write about it.
Those cell phones were great when we ended up wandering in different directions at a museum or gallery, just speed dial and find out where the other one is.
Modern technology is great!
Tuesday, January 7
Back home again. this time after a far more personal encounter with modern technology. Why is it that surgeons are morning people? How can they be awake enough to use a sharp knife at seven in the morning?
I was tired enough getting up that early (4:30 in the alleged morning) that they probably could have operated without anything else to put me to sleep.
But operate she did and I now have my own breasts. I also have a bottle of happy pills and an attitude. Too bad nature didn't let me grow these things the way most girls do it - slowly over a few years.
As it is I had a very weird dream coming out of the anesthetic. I dreamed that the surgeon was using a thing that looked like the grease gun Jake uses when he's working on cars. She stuck the hose inside me and started pumping until she filled up my bra, then she did the other side. She kept poking at my boobs like she was testing a cookie to see if it was done, then sewed me up. I don't suppose I should tell Jake (or the surgeon!) about that dream. They might not understand.
Even though it hurts it's so good to know I have breasts that will someday look like they are a part of me. I haven't had the heart to look at the stitches or the bruising, but I'm going to have to take a shower tomorrow and that means taking off my bra for a short time. Surgical bras are ugly, but I'm not going to complain. No more glue, no more sweaty slippery falsies, just all me and all girl.
Up top anyway.
Thursday, January 9
The doctor says things look good - a phrase I find hard to apply to my poor, bruised body. Still, she should know.
It still hurts, though. Not as much, but when I move the wrong way I'm reminded that I have been surgically enhanced.
Tuesday, January 14
I haven't been writing because absolutely nothing has been happening to write about. The worst of the pain is behind me, or so they say, which is a good thing because there are no more happy pills left in the bottle. While I like seeing my B-cups in the mirror, the bruising is a real turn-off. I had no idea skin could turn that many colors.
The doctor took out the stitches today, so that's one step closer to being normal again.
Wait! Me, normal?
We made love last night - very slowly and very carefully so my boobs didn't bounce. Much. Making love while wearing a surgical bra is very strange, but very necessary right now. With a little creativity we both ended up satisfied. A good thing we were alone in the house, though. Mary Ann had a lot of time to make up for and is still very vocal.
Saturday, January 18
I was up to the drive to the airport to pick up Grandpa and Eve this morning. They are both tanned and glowing, marriage agrees with them.
I'm still wearing the surgical bra, but feeling well enough to dress in normal clothes and go for a drive. I was even up to going out for dinner, but I did tire out pretty fast.
They brought a pair of bikinis home with them for me and Mary Ann. It will be worth tucking to be able to wear a bikini on the beach. Or maybe a pool once I don't have a rainbow on my chest. One look right now and someone is going to call the cops because I've obviously been abused.
Monday, January 20
Back to school. Erin was excited to see me and nearly burst my new breasts when she gave me a hug. Naturally I winced and told her I had some minor surgery over the holidays and I needed to take it easy.
She gave me that quizzical look and I decided I knew her well enough to say 'boob job.'
"What?" Came the reply. "You don't look any bigger."
"That's because I hardly had anything to start with. I've been using falsies."
"Damn! I never would have guessed. What's that girl of yours think if them?"
"She can't wait to play with them."
"I should hope so! How long before I see you in a bikini, girl?"
"Don't get your hopes up, girl, although my grandpa did buy us matching bikinis on their honeymoon."
"Are you serious!?"
"You've met my Grandpa."
"You are serious!"
"Another few weeks and the high neckline blouses will be a thing of the past."
"I did wonder why you were always so, ahem, modest."
"Most people don't drool over plastic tits, Erin."
"Why did Mary Ann have to find you first? I'd just love to be the one to give them a test drive."
"Sorry girl, she has exclusive rights."
"Damn! Hey, got to get going. Catch you later."
"You bet."
Friday, February 14
Valentine's day.
The surgical bra is a thing of the past. My assets still have a way to go to settle in, but my breasts are looking a lot more like breasts. It takes time for skin to stretch and mold over such an intrusion.
To celebrate Mary Ann and I went to the Valentines dance at her college. We both wore strapless gowns and knocked 'em dead. Of course I had to wear some padding to show curves around my hips, but the cleavage and breasts were all my own.
I must be getting better, I didn't hear a whisper of my father carping about loose women displaying themselves in public. In fact, I reveled in displaying myself in public.
We continued our celebration of the day of love with some lovemaking of our own. I am starting to understand just what Mary Ann feels when I play with her nipples; having breasts is a very nice compliment to having a penis when making love.
There are advantages to taking it out only when needed and living the rest of my life as a woman. Who says you have to choose one of the other?
Epilogue, October 9, 2020
The whole Covid-19 mess has left me with a great deal of time on my hands. One of the things I have done is re-read my diaries from the beginning of my transition. I've decided that sharing them might be a help to someone else who is thinking that living as a woman is a desirable thing to do, so I've excerpted those parts about transitioning.
To catch you up, Mary Ann and I were married as soon as the financial aid check cleared at the start of our senior year. We didn't intend to have a big wedding, but with all the people in our combined families it was a big wedding before we started inviting friends.
I wore Sylvia's wedding dress for the occasion. Grandpa was teary-eyed but I think it meant a lot to him that I was honoring the woman whose wardrobe made my transition a reality. I had no trouble at all saying Yes To The Dress.
Something I didn't expect was that Dad came to the wedding. He didn't give me away - that honor went to Grandpa - but he was there. That's progress of a sort.
Erin ended up being my maid of honor - she got a real kick of being the lesbian maid-of-honor to a halfway transsexual. Our friendship had long since progressed to the point where I told her about myself. I did get a kick out of her reaction, she had a hard time believing I wasn't pulling her chain when I told her. Some of the 'sisterhood' still persist in believing us trans types only do it so we can ogle real women's bodies. Makes about as much sense as most silly ideas that float about on the net, I suppose. Take the Q-anon idiocy that I was just reading about.
I did offer to let Jake stand up for me, but he told me he didn't like the bridesmaid's dress enough to wear it in public. Jake still has a sardonic sense of humor, even though he's made his peace with me being a girl these days. Lula did the honors for Mary Ann, looking awfully cute in violet. The contrast with tall Eve standing next to little Lula was striking. We have a lot of interesting friends.
Grandpa and Eve decided at the age of eighty it was time to move to someplace smaller and more manageable, so they have a nice apartment in a senior living place with option for assisted living when the time comes. They're still the youngest old folks I know but they have a good grasp on reality. They don't have all than much time left to enjoy each other and they know it. They also decided to deed the house to us when we got married, which was something we never expected. We are now the official hosts for family gatherings, always a distinct pleasure.
Once we graduated we immediately went to Grad school. We both got our Masters a year ago May and Mary Ann is now working in a large architecture firm. I landed a job as an adjunct at the college after a minor kerfuffle about my trans status from a couple of folks who were laughed down as I had been part of the student body for six years and a grad student teacher as well. There hadn't been a single incident.
So we are were doing very well for ourselves. The big news is that our daughter Molly arrived this May. Naturally, we had our doubts about bringing a child into the world at this particular time. Would it be fair to the child to plunk her into the awful mess we have made of things?
That's where being an historian provides some perspective. For most of the recorded history of the human race there has been some awful thing happening: wars, famine, plague, drought, fire, flood - you name it. If people waited for the perfect time to have children we would have died out long ago.
And I am very well aware that many of those children didn't live to be adults, that the awfuls did kill them before they matured. There is some comfort in knowing that children today have a far greater chance of survival than they did for most of the time people have been around, but that's no comfort when your child is the one at risk.
So that's where faith comes in. Not the intolerant faith I grew up with, but the loving, caring and accepting faith that God will be there for us, for my wife and for my family.
I know that Mary Ann does not believe as I do and that is perfectly fine. We all will find the way that suits us best and I am not going to condemn anyone else's path to heaven because it is not my own. I do not even care if anyone believes in heaven or hell or or God, that's not my concern. God and I have an understanding, let others find their own without my demands.
We tried to time it so the baby would arrive at the end of the semester so I would be free to be the primary caregiver over the summer. Of course when we did our planning no one had any idea that that damned virus would screw up everyone's plans. I can tell you that expecting a child in the midst of a pandemic is no picnic, but we have learned to cope. We've done a lot of coping, it seems. Since I'm teaching via video and Mary Ann is doing much of her work from home we get to share the parenting duties. At least we still both have jobs.
I had dreams of extending that sharing to feeding our daughter, but the endocrinologist didn't think it was such a good idea if I intended to father another child. We have decided that my halfway status suits us just fine and I have no plans to become complete or whatever euphemism you want to use for getting GRS. So Mary Ann pumps and I feed with a bottle and dream of being able to nurse. Not all dreams come true in this world.
I just hope we can have the family for Thanksgiving again this year, although that is looking pretty dim with the way things are going. I don't want to be the one who has to break tradition because we were afraid we would make each other sick. I'm also glad I still don't use makeup very often, which is a good thing as wearing a mask just isn't practical when you can't let anything touch your face.
And we do wear our masks. We do limit trips to places where transmission is likely. We don't eat out any more, although we have gone through the drive-in a few times. We don't hang around in crowds. We try to be sensible and still live our lives.
I cringe at some of the nonsense that so-called Christians are spouting about 'God will protect me' and then they go out and try their hardest to spread the virus. I can't help but think of the old story of the guy who refused all help when a hurricane hit because God would protect him. The poor fool was mystified when he ended up at the pearly gates. That's when Saint Peter tells him "He sent you weather warnings, He sent evacuation notices, He sent you a boat and He even sent you a helicopter. What more did you expect?" One thing Dad and I agree on - The Lord helps those who help themselves.
I do pray that the people in charge, and the people around us will start to take this seriously and do something effective about it. I believe in the power of prayer, but there is a whole lot more we can do. I want our little girl to grow up and be strong and loving and resilient. I just want her to be able to grow up, period.
No matter what happens in the future, Mary Ann and I will face it together with our daughter and our wonderful extended family, who will be right there with us. Life is good and going to get better. Just keep that in mind and you can do anything.