Charles James Davis Wilder (Charlie) age 13
Teresa Joy Wilder Davis (TJ) age 11
Francine Wilder (Frankie) mom to kids, Wife to Jane, Age 40
Jane Davis (Jane) mother to kids, Wife to Frankie, recently deceased
Dr. Julia West (Julie) Physiatrist, a College friend of Frankie
Frankie and Jane fall in love, get married, decide to raise a family together, they impregnate each other with donor sperm, Charlie born, TJ born.
House spray painted “Lezzies shouldn’t raise kids”. Frankie and Jane decide to homestead in a remote location and homeschool the kids. During house build 4-year-old Charly is put in charge of TJ and two puppies. They play house as two mommies.
Frankie and Jane have a recommitment ceremony. 9-year-old Charlie protests having to wear a suit and tie instead of pretty dress like TJ.
Jane is killed in an auto accident, while on a trip for her consulting business. Frankie sells the house to go back to teaching.
The family is staying with Frankie’s friend Dr. Julia West. Dr. West is testing Charlie and TJ for school placement, as they have only been homeschooled to this point.
As part of the placement testing, Charlie is put in a playgroup of 12-13 year old boys. The group rejects him.
As we begin Frankie is off at St. Katherine’s, the private girl's school she will be teaching at.
“Hi, Aunt Julie. Have you got more testing for me?”
“No. You are just about done. I just wanted to have a talk with you, before I consult with your mom about the results. Do you have any questions?”
“How did I do?”
“I’m gonna play a doctor trick and answer with a question. How do you think you did?”
“Most of the tests were to help you figure me out better. So they aren’t really graded. But I think I did OK. I don’t think they revealed me as a serial killer or anything like that.”
“Actually you did great on the tests. Academically, I think you could do well in college right now.”
“I sense a but.”
“You are very sharp. Few of my adult patients can read me that well. There are a couple areas of concern. First, the playgroup didn’t accept you very well.”
“They treated me like an idiot, just because I didn’t know about those stupid football players.”
“I agree you didn’t do anything wrong. But I fear similar or worse situations, if we mix you with a group of older boys, whom you are likely to be academically superior to.”
“ Are you suggesting I need to dumb down to fit in?”
“That is not the solution I had in mind?”
“What’s your solution?”
“I think we need to involve your mom before we discuss that.”
“OK so what now?”
“Well, the other area is that you had an unusual score on the Prince-Hopkins gender scale.”
“Does that mean I’m too girly?”
“I don’t think so. I suspect it is more the way your mothers raised you. Can I ask some more questions?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Do you ever wish you were a girl.”
“No. I’m happy being me. I don’t think being a boy or a girl has much to do with it.”
“Good answer. Do you ever wish to wear girls clothing?”
“I like jeans and tee shirts and sneakers, not much difference, girls are more colorful and more decorated. At the wedding, I did wish that I could wear a pretty dress and Mary-Janes instead of the suit and tie and heavy leather shoes.”
“I wish all my patients were as clear and articulate in their answers. What do you like to do when you play?”
“Play with the dogs and TJ. Teach them to obey and do tricks. Play house with TJ. Play with cars and trucks and Lego’s. Play soccer and basketball. Explore the woods. Play video games. Read. Build things. Listen to music. Write. Computer program.”
“When you played house with TJ what did you do?”
“Usually we would play mommies to our dolls and stuffies. Sometimes we would have tea parties.”
“How do you feel about your penis?”
“I don’t think about it much. I like being able to point and shoot.”
“You have been very helpful. I think that is enough for me to have the talk with your mom. I suspect you have some idea where this might be going. Don’t worry, we will not make any decisions without you, and the final decision will be yours.”
I ran to my room. I wanted to throw myself on the bed and cry. But I didn’t. I sat at the computer and tried to research transgender through my tears.
Three hours later, I was more confused than before I started. I had never given gender much thought. It never seemed like it made much difference. TJ and I were treated slightly differently, but I had always attributed that to the age difference, not the gender difference. I had never felt like a girl (but when I think about it, I never felt like a boy either). I was just happy being me and gender didn’t play much of a role in my self-image either way. I could play mommy and not feel unnatural about it. But I could imagine myself driving a big rig, or building houses, or programming computers. I didn’t consider any of these gender-specific (although I knew others did). But from my experience with the playgroup, I might well find it easier to fit in at school as a girl. It wouldn’t change my life options much. Either way, I could choose to like girls (or boys or both). I was pretty sure either way it would be girls. Here I was, seriously considering trying to live as a girl, without that suggestion even being made.
At this point, I heard mom’s car in the driveway. I rushed down to meet mom at the door, with a hug.
“That was a nice welcome, but what brought that on?”
“Aunt Julie had a talk with me about the test results. It reminded me how much you have done for us, and how much we love each other.”
“Does that mean I need to have a talk with Julie?”
“I think so.”
Mom ruffled my hair and kissed me of the forehead. Then went and knock on Dr. Julie’s office door.
I ran off to get the stethoscope from our blood pressure testing kit. I knew I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but I had to know what was going on.
Charlie returns with the stethoscope, sits against the wall by the office door, putting the earpieces in, and the pickup against the door panel.
The first thing I heard was Julie “You have done an extraordinary job educating your kids. I believe Charlie could do fine in college right now. He amazes me how mature and articulate he is.”
“But?”
“I see where he gets it from.”
“What do you mean?”
“Charlie read me, the way you just did.”
“I am very proud of both of them, but what’s the but?”
“You have inadvertently run an interesting experiment on your children.” I was thinking, just spit it out Julie and could visualize mom glowering the same message. “You have raised them in an isolated environment, treating them the same without regard to gender, and without male role models. I theorize that this is why they both had rather unusual scores on the Prince-Hopkins gender scale. Most boys score in the 80% to 95% range and most girls in the 5% to 25% range. Charly scored 50% and TJ 45%.”
“What are you saying? That I have confused them about gender?”
“No. Charly knows he is a boy, because as he says he can point and shoot. It’s that he doesn’t feel there is much difference between being a boy or a girl. When I asked if he ever wished he was a girl, he answered no, he was just happy being himself, and being a boy or a girl didn’t have much to do with it.”
“You think this is going to cause problems?”
“Yes. He was rejected by 12-13 yr old playgroup, ostensibly for lack of knowledge of pro football, but I’m afraid the problem is deeper. And I’m afraid the problem will only be worse with 15 and 16 year old boys.”
“Where are you going with this?”
“I am thinking we should give Charlie the option of attending school as a transgender girl. Then he could the go to St. Katherine’s where he would be more sheltered and you could watch over him better.”
“But I don’t think he is transgender. He said he never wanted to be a girl.”
“He never had any reason to. You let him be as girly or as boyish as he wanted without censure. I don’t think he is classic transgender. But he has many feminine mannerisms and speech patterns. He could easily be called gender fluid. That won’t get him into St Katherines, which I believe would be the best place for him, but transgender would. Besides, it would be a great opportunity for him to explore the feminine world.”
“Do you think you can be objective on this?”
“No. But the final decision has to be Charlie’s. I know I’m not objective, but I feel it’s the best solution.”
“But you said he doesn’t want to be a girl.”
“But he hadn’t really thought about it and he didn’t really want to be a boy either. He is sort of agender. It would be a chance to sample the other side.”
“ I think you are projecting your own feelings.”
“Probably, but I feel we would only be offering another option.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Charlie is exceptionally mature. I think the best thing we can do is trust him to make the right decision for himself.”
“Your probably right, but it still doesn’t feel right.”
“We wouldn’t do anything irreversible for years.”
“I still have reservations, but let’s go ahead. Depending on his decision, we won’t have much time.”
“One more thing. I think this would be a good time to tell them about me and their father.”
“That has always been your decision to make. I’ll be happy any time you want to tell them. If your ready, I think it’s time for a family meeting.”
“I’m ready. I want to do this!”
I scrambled away from the door and into the kitchen.
Mom yelled out “Charlie, TJ into the living room. Now!”
After the four of us got comfortably seated. Mom said, “Dr. West has some things to tell us.”
“First, when it’s just this group I prefer Julie or Aunt Julie to Dr. West. Second Charlie and TJ, I am your biological father.”
For someone who is normally incredibly obtuse, she really just spit it out this time.
After an uncomfortably long silence, TJ asked: “Can we call you dad?” Mom and I were suppressing giggles. A slow smile grew on Julie’s face. She got up and hugged TJ then said “I’d love that, honey. But doing it around others could cause problems, so it’s probably better not to.”
Returning to her seat, she continued “When I met your mom, I was James West, an undergraduate, struggling with gender and sexuality issues. I will never be able to repay her for the love and patience she gave me, nurturing Julie and coaxing her into the world.”
Mom interrupted “You have more than repaid me, by becoming the awesome person you are today and by your contribution to giving us Charlie and TJ.”
“When your mothers decided they wanted a family, I was already taking female hormones, but I was honored to donate some of the sperm, I had frozen for possible future use. I am proud to be your father, and the better I get to know you the prouder I get. You will be given the opportunity to ask all those questions this is creating.
But right now I would like to get onto the issue that precipitated telling you this. As you know, I have been doing extensive testing, to determine how best, to continue your education, now that your mom is returning to teaching. Your mom has done a superb job on your educations, You are both years beyond your age group peers both academically and in practical skills. You have been raised in a unique environment by your mothers. In most ways, it is a much better environment than the one you will be moving into. But you are going to have to adjust to the new environment, as changes to it will only happen slowly. You will have to learn to deal with ignorant, bigoted, and indifferent people, you have been sheltered from. They will assume you are wrong because you are different. They will make little to no effort to understand you. Often they will persecute you for being different. Your mothers moved to where they did to protect you from them. But now you will be exposed to them. Your mom and I will do our best to make this home, a safe place with unconditional love. That will be your greatest resource, don’t be afraid to use it. Come to us and talk out your problems.
I am recommending Charlie go to 11th grade and TJ go to 10 grade. You will be mixed with older, physically more mature students. I have little doubt you will both continue to excel academically. Where there may be problems is social. The world of adolescent boys is very competitive. Adolescent boys compete in almost everything, sports, games, prowess with girls, automotive knowledge, etcetera. They don’t listen well, their minds are too busy working on how to one-up their friends. In this environment, Charlie’s relative lack of physical development could make for problems of acceptance and inclusion. In addition, he has developed some rather feminine mannerisms and speech patterns. I suspect the playgroup unconsciously picked up on this. He is likely to be teased, bullied, ostracized, and picked upon. I expect TJ to have fewer problems with the girls. They listen better and tend to work cooperatively on such things as developing a sense of style in clothes and looks in hair and makeup. They can be more accepting of differences. TJ’s lack of physical development is more likely to get her treated like a little sister or late bloomer, rather than a weaker competitor.
Another area you will find much different is gender, Your mothers have made very little differentiation based on gender. The world you are entering will make assumptions and have expectations based on your gender appearance alone. I suspect you will both find this annoying, at best.
Your, Mom and I have agreed to offer Charlie an option that may ease some of his potential problems. But it will also create new problems. I want to emphasize that this decision is entirely Charlie’s and we expect he will take as much time to make it as he needs.
Charlie, if you so chose, we will do all we can, to help you attend school as a transgender girl.”
Mom came over and gave me a hug. “Charlie are you ok with all this?”
I hugged her back. “I am happy to know who my father is. And I’m glad she is such a nice person.”
“I was more worried about the idea of going to school as a girl.”
“At first I thought it was a crazy suggestion. But it is starting to seem reasonable. What do you think about it?”
“I think it is something, you have to decide for yourself. But it is not something I would have suggested from seeing you grow up.”
“ I think I need more time to consider it. It’s all a little confusing right now.”
And with that, the family meeting broke up.
A knock on the door. It sounded like TJ. “Come in.”
TJ came in, a big grin on her face, and threw herself at me and gave me a big hug.
“Why so happy?”
“I’m glad to know who our father is. And that it’s someone we already know and love. Somehow it feels more like the loving family we had before mother was killed.”
I hugged her back, “Your right. I had not thought about it like that. I was caught up in whether to go to school as a boy or a girl. But you helped me see, that I have a loving family behind me either way. And that is what is important.”
“What are you going to do about the boy/girl thing?”
“I don’t know. I think I need to talk to mom and aunt Julie about it more. What do you think?”
“I will love you whatever you decide. But I would love to have an older sister, and we could both go to mom’s school together. If you decide to be a boy, you would have to go to a different school, and we wouldn’t be able to help each other as much.”
“Yeah, if I decide on boy, I would miss being close to you.” Another consideration, I hadn’t thought of.
The doorbell rang. After mom answered it. “Kids, dinner is here. Come down for dinner.”
When we got down for dinner, we found mom had ordered pizza. We had grown up on almost 100% home cooking (the only exception be an occasional stop at McDonald's or a dinner when shopping as a family). So this was a surprise. Even more surprising was the pepperoni pizza next to the vegetarian one. That had been a forbidden food growing up.
Seeing the look of surprise on TJ's and my faces, “Today I realized, that we had been sheltering you from lots of normal experiences. This could be awkward as you try to fit in at school. Besides we should be celebrating the revelation of your father. Pepperoni isn’t the healthiest food, but you should try it, and see how you like it. Besides, it’s Julie’s favorite, and we want her to feel welcome to our family and to celebrate with us.”
Julia said, “I’ve always felt a little guilty keeping my role as your father secret. I was so proud of you, yet I was acting like I was ashamed of you. I am glad we all know now. That said, I think it would be better to keep it within the family. Outsiders may not understand. They might generate rumors of Satanic practices or other silliness. I am still very proud of you, and I will not deny you are my children. But I think that might be best if we keep that in the family.”
I said, “TJ and I, were discussing how it felt more like a family again than since mother got killed. We want you to stay an important part of the family. We love you, as aunt Julie, and now as our father.”
Julia went over to mom, knelt in front of her, “I just realized nothing would make me happier than marrying you and officially adopting Charlie and TJ. Will you marry me?”
Mom looked a mixture of happy and surprised. “ I have loved you for a long time, but till now I have never thought of it as the marrying kind of love. I didn’t know if you were attracted to men or women or both or neither. I am attracted to the idea of a family with you, but I think we both need more time before committing to marriage. The pizza is getting cold. Let’s eat.”
I reached for a slice of pepperoni, felt my eyes watering and thought, another pro for girl, possible maid of honor.
I saw mom go to hug TJ who had tears running down her face. “Are you OK honey?”
“I’m just so happy. We have a family that loves each other so much.”
Mom said, “It’s been quite a day. It will take us all a while to process it all. But do you have any questions?”
I looked at TJ hoping she would ask one of her perceptive questions but realized she was looking at me the same way. I surprised myself, by blurting out, “Tell us about you and dad.”
Seeing the pleading looks from TJ and I mom started. “In college, having decided I liked girls, I started to spend a lot of time at the at the university LGBT club. They had speakers and programs, but mostly it was one the few safe, comfortable places where I could relax and just be myself. I met James West there. From chatting with him, it was clear he was very smart, but also stiff and uptight. I guessed he was struggling with being gay and uncomfortable with women. I was surprised when he told me he was transgender.
I asked him “What is your girl name?”
My heart melted as I saw the smile grow on her face as she said “Julie.”
I asked, “When does Julie come out to play?”
He replied “She doesn’t. She is pretty much locked in my closet.”
I said, “We should do something to free her.”
“I would love that!”
The energy she exuded and the huge smile, made her a much more interesting person than James would ever be.
From there Julie and I became BFFs, helping each other with makeup and hair, sharing clothes, and shopping together. James changed to Julie after graduation, and she went on to medical school. I don’t think James would have made it through medical school. In any case, she is much happier as Julie.”
“Do you love her?” TJ asked.
“Yes. But if it is a marrying kind of love, is still an unanswered question.”
I don’t know if she did it to intentionally to change the subject, but she continued, “Charlie, she was very different from you. So don’t jump to the conclusion that what was right for her, will be right for you.”
“What do you think is right for me?”
“When Julie and I discussed this. We agreed it had to be your decision. I don’t want to influence your decision by projecting my wishes. Other than promising to love you no matter what you decide. And TJ I hope you let your brother/sister know you will love them either way.”
“Mom, she already has. The important thing is that we love each other unconditionally.”
“You just gave me reassurance that whatever decision you make it will be right for you.” `
As I spent the morning on more internet research and thinking, ideas began to solidify, and my picture became clearer.
At 1:56 the previous client left and I entered Julie’s office/consultation room.
“Hi, Charlie. You seem a little anxious. I want to reassure you, I love you and want to help any way I can. Can I get you a drink?”
She was right about being a little anxious. But soda was still a rare indulgence. “I’ll have a coke”
“Diet or regular.”
“Doesn’t matter to me, but mom would probably object less to diet.”
She went to a mini refrigerator, took out a can and a cold glass and brought them to me. As she was fixing herself a coffee, she asked, “Where would you like to start?”
“Maybe with your story of going from James to Julia.”
“That’s not something I share with many people, but I want to share it with you. I think the girl has always been inside me. When I started kindergarten it felt very wrong being grouped with the boys. At Halloween I wanted to be Cinderella, my father forbid it. It seemed that my father and I were forever fighting, him trying to push me into sports, and me dreaming of a magical transformation into a girl. I did find pretending to be a boy, made life easier in some ways, it reduced bullying and teasing, and it suppressed the ongoing battle with my father.
My mother tried to referee, telling my father to let me find my own way. But I felt she too, wanted me to be more manly. I was a good student and found I enjoyed running, which slightly appeased dads desire for an athletic son. Little did he know, that much of the appeal of running, was that while running I could be the girl in my fantasies. I hoped that when I went to college I could free Julie. But until I met your mom, I was frozen with fear and uncertainty. When I told her I was transgender, I expected rejection, but instead, it was like she jumped inside me and dragged out Julie. Without her, I would never have had the courage, or the confidence to transition to Julie in med school. And that was probably the best decision of my life. Is that what you wanted?”
“I don’t know what I wanted. But that was quite helpful. It is really quite different from my situation. Was it difficult going from boy to girl?”
“Yes and no. I really believe I have always been a girl inside. And with your mom’s help and encouragement the external transition to appearing as a girl was fun and easy. What was difficult was the mental transitions. Letting go of the idea I was really a boy. Expecting rejection.
Self-doubt about being strong enough. Fear of forever being an outcast. Fear of never finding love. Letting go of my conditioning as a boy. Letting go of my parents' expectations for me. If you decide to try being a girl, I think many of the things that were difficult for me will be easier for you. But I doubt you have the fire inside driving you towards womanhood that I had.”
“Why do you think it will be easier for me?”
“First and most importantly. You have a family that loves and wants you, no matter what you decide. Hopefully, that will remove the fear of rejection as a major consideration. Second, you don’t have years of conditioning with “boys don’t play with dolls”, “boys don’t wear dresses”, “boys don’t cry”, and all that crap. You haven’t been pressured to behave like a stereotypical male. Third, you are at an age where your body can be driven whichever direction you choose. Forth, you already have mannerisms and speech patterns that were difficult for me to attain. ”
“Sounds like you want me to go the girl route,”
“No, I want you to do what is right for you, what will help you find happiness. I want you to understand some things will not be as daunting as you think. What you are being offered would have been a dream come true, for me. And it is hard for me to not project that on you. I hope it does not make it harder or more confusing for you, but I want you to have all the relevant information I can give you.”
“I thank you for that. Can I ask how you feel about my mom?”
“You just did. Last night I realized I love her, I’ve loved her for a long time, and that she is the only one I have ever loved in a way that I wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. I also realized I wanted to be a real parent to you and TJ, not just a sperm donor.”
I sobbed out “Thank you.”
“Happy tears?”
“Definitely!”
“Me too.”
We ended the meeting with a hug.
During dessert, I called for another family meeting.
With the four of us, cleanup went quickly, and we were soon seated in the living room.
I started “First, I want to thank all three of you for making your love clear and unconditional.
When I was first confronted with the idea of going to school as a girl, it seemed downright crazy.
When I researched transgender, I felt that wasn’t me. But slowly the idea seemed less crazy. And the idea that I might be somewhere else on the non-binary spectrum seemed possible. The idea of attending school as a girl became more inviting. I have decided that I want to explore if I may be some version of gender fluid. I want the three of you to help me try living as a girl within the family. Depending on how that goes I can decide about school later.”
Mom said, “That is a really good idea. I’m sure we will all do all we can to help. Where do you want to start?”
“Well, I think I’d like to change Charli with i, no e, to make it more girly. We can pretend it’s short for Charlotte. Then I think Charli needs a wardrobe and probably a new hairdo.”
“Oh, I so need a trip to the beauty parlor and shopping with my new sister.” came from TJ.
“Not so fast. Your sister said at home.”
“Thanks mom, but that sounds like fun. But we need to do enough at home, that the beauty salon doesn’t realize they are transforming a boy into a girl.”
“Are you ready for that?” Mom asked.
“That’s what I want to find out,” I replied.
“Ok, I think we can put together an outfit for shopping and comb and trim your hair into something that looks more tomboyish than boyish.”
Julie, who had left the room, came back with four magazines. “These are hairstyles, you may want to decide what you like.”
Before we dispersed, TJ announced, “I would like to change my name too. I would like you all to call me Joy. I don’t think I want to go by TJ at school. And I like Joy better than Teresa.”
Julie said, “You are a joy, Joy.”
After Mom and I groaned, Joy said: “Thank you, dad.”
With that, the meeting broke up, and the family began working on my transition to a girl.
She insisted on painting my fingers and toes. She wanted a deep red, I wanted an unobtrusive pink, we compromised on a pretty pearl.
Even though I had never wanted to be a girl. The pearly nails made me feel a little girly. It felt OK (I wasn’t ready to admit it felt good).
It was fun going through hairstyles with her. We teased each other. Me picking Shirley Temple curls for her, saying they were the perfect little sister look. She picking long flowing locks for me, saying I’d make a great femme fatale.
I picked a shag cut that to me was feminine but not too far from androgynous.
Joy picked a bob with curled tendrils down both sides.
I was surprised to realize that I was beginning to see her as more mature and better able to advise me in my experimental journey into girlhood.
Wardrobe was more of a problem. Joys bras were too tight on me. But I somehow I felt I needed one. Mom came to the rescue with one of her sports bras. It was meant for a lot more than I had, but with all the elastic and chicken filets (silicone enhancers, also provided by mom) it worked OK. Joys tee shirts were a little tight but that was how most girls our age were wearing them. Joys panties fit fine (except I found the feel of them a little arousing). But her jeans were too small and mom’s were too big. I could probably use Charlie’s, but that didn’t seem feminine enough. Joy suggested I could wear a skirt. We tried some and found some that might work.
I asked mom what she thought. “If you want to be a girl, you will have to be comfortable in a skirt. But I don’t think tee shirts and skirts go together very well.”
I looked to Joy “I think mom is right, we can both get dressed up for shopping and salon.”
I was beginning to understand why it took women so long to get ready. Julie came in and said, “When you're done come see me I have something for you.”
Joy and I spent about 45 minutes selecting skirts and blouses for tomorrow. She was going to wear ballet flats that she felt went better with the dressy skirt and blouse we had chosen. I would have to go with my fairly androgynous boy's sneakers.
I went to visit Julie in her office. “That took long enough.”
I responded, “Girls have so many more choices, and it's all new to me.”
“Nice, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I was surprised at how nice it felt to feel pretty.”
Handing me a flesh colored piece of cloth, “It’s a gaff. Basically, a heavy-duty thong to keep your boy bits up and out of the way.”
“That might be a good idea. Putting on Joy's panties was a little arousing.”
“I remember it being a lot arousing. The thong may take a little getting used to. If you decide to go to school as a girl, we can get you some pantie style, or even a prosthetic vagina.”
“A what?”
“Prosthetic vagina. It’s silicone made to appear like a woman’s anatomy. You can get ones you wear like a gaff or ones that attach with surgical glue.”
“I didn’t know those even existed.”
“Most people don’t. That’s for later, if at all.”
As I finished pouring the milk, mom brought over three plates of eggs. Hers and Joy’s sunny side up, and mine over hard (I never liked runny egg yolk). Joy brought a platter of toast, then a selection of jams and jellies. Mom brought a platter of home fries and sat down.
Between bites, mom asked, “Are you girls excited about today.”
She got two excited and almost simultaneous yeses. Joy and I looked at each other and giggled.
“Glad to see you expect to enjoy it.” More giggles in reply followed.
“Charli, how do you want to handle trying things on?”
“Like a teenage girl. Try on everything in the store and model it for you and Joy.”
“What about things like being fitted for a bra.”
“ That might be embarrassing, like for any flat chested girl. Aunt Julie gave me something that should avoid embarrassment from the other end, and I’m wearing it.”
“Mom, what’s she talking about?”
“Charli, do you care to explain for your sister?”
“It’s called a gaff, and it’s meant to keep my boy parts out of the way.”
“Oh,” said Joy as her face reddened.
Mom said “I think this will be fun for all of us. But if anybody gets uncomfortable please let me know and we can abort the mission. Sadly Julie has clients this morning, and can’t join us. She will want you to model when we get home.”
After cleaning breakfast dishes, Mom said: “It’s time to do something about your hair, Bring a bath towel and a bar stool into the kitchen.”
When I got to the kitchen with the towel and stool, Mom had combs, brushes and scissors laid out on the kitchen table.
“What are you going to do, mom?”
“Just fixing your hair, so we don’t have any problem with anybody thinking you are a boy. You don’t have to like it. It’s only for a couple of hours until you get to the salon.”
This seemed ominous to me, but I decided to not start an argument when I had little idea what was happening. She sat me on the stool and wrapped the towel over my shoulders. And after the proverbial 100 strokes (it seemed like more, but was probably less). After a few nastie tangles, it actually felt kind of nice, I was enjoying her attention. She switched to a comb, and combed most of my hair back but some over my face. She moved behind me and started separating my hair in bundles, then braiding it. When she finished the right side and switched to the left, I knew I was getting pigtails, a style TJ had rejected years ago as too young for her.
This would certainly not have been my choice, but it was only for a few hours. When she finished the braiding, she took scissors and trimmed the hair on my face into eyebrow length bangs. After spraying the bangs with hairspray. She called “Joy, come see how pretty your sister is.”
Joy came running in her grin turned into a grimace suppressing a guffaw. Regaining control she said, “Sis, it makes you look so young.”
Mom had given me a hand mirror. From the front, it wasn’t too bad. But from the back or sides, it was much too juvenile.
Julie came in, in her skirt suit and heels. “Alas, I fear I must say goodbye to my pretty young girls, only to have them magically replaced by sophisticated young ladies.”
Joy giggled, but I was uncertain how to take Julies sense of humor. I felt that she was with Joy and I, on the age inappropriateness of my hairdo, but I was confused about what else might be there.
Julie whispered something in mom’s ear. I hoped she might be chastising mom for what she had done, but mom just whispered back what looked like OK.
“ Girls get ready and pack whatever you need in your purses. Charli, you will find a purse you can use on your bed.” Mom went upstairs, and Julie grabbed a cup of coffee and went into her office.
Joy ran over to me hugged me and asked: “ What do you really think of what mom did to your hair.”
“Well, it will keep people from thinking I’m a boy. And it’s only for a couple hours. But I’m not very fond of it.”
“Wow, you’re suddenly diplomatic with your transition. I thought mom was more with it than to do that to you. I’m not letting her near my hair after that.”
“Yeah it’s pretty terrible, but I expect bigger bumps on my road to girlhood.”
“I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
“I know that and I really appreciate your help. You have grown a lot in my eyes.”
“I still feel like your little sister, but in other ways, I’m feeling like an older sister. I feel more protective and want to help in areas I may have a little more experience.”
“Love you. Let’s get ready.”
Joy giggled. I looked down and saw a glimpse of pantie and a lot of bare thigh. I pulled the skirt down but it still didn’t cover as much as I would have liked, I closed my thighs together.
“That’s better, but when you sit down you need to sweep your skirt under you with your hand. We should have practiced at home.”
“You shouldn’t be so hard on her, this is all new to her.” Joy contributed.
“I’m not being hard. I’m just pointing out what she has to learn quickly.”
“Thank you both, you both need to let me know things like that.”
“I think we should start by getting you some bras that fit.”
“Not what I’m most looking forward to, but you are probably right.”
Joy jumped in “Can I go first and get a new bra, so Charli will know what to expect.”
I gave her a smile of gratitude.
Mom said “Yes, but I recognize the self-serving part of that offer. Don’t expect to get everything your sister does today.”
When we got to the mall, Mom headed directly to Penny’s. Joy protested “can’t we go to Victoria’s Secret?”
“No. Their stuff is too old for both of you. And too expensive for what might be a short-lived experiment.”
We went to the lingerie department and were quickly approached by an older sales lady “How can I help you?”
“Both girls need new bras. You can start by measuring the younger one.”
“Let us go to the changing area, and I’ll measure you both.”
Back outside the changing booths, no one else was around, thankfully. The sales lady asked Joy, “Do you want to go into a booth, to be measured.”
Joy replied, “No, we can do it out here, so my sister can see what to do.” I could feel my face warm, and I’m sure it reddened noticeably.
“OK, please take off your blouse.” Joy did. “Can you slide your bra up a little.” Joy did. And the sales lady wrapped a cloth tape below the bra. She pinched the tape where the end met it, unwrapped it. “You can pull your bra down and put your blouse back on.”
“27 ¾, so a 28A should be right.”Next, blouse off” looking at me. I took the blouse off.
Seeing the oversized sports bra “What’s this?” looking at mom.
“She wouldn’t wear a bra, pretending to be a boy, then suddenly she won’t leave the house without one. So I lent her one of mine.” shrugged mom.
Was she intentionally trying to embarrass me? Feeling more warmth in my cheeks.
The sales lady gave mom a knowing smile, and me a “Bra up”. I lifted it. A cool touch and she was done. “You can get dressed.”
Speaking to mom “31 ⅜, I would look at 32 A's. The starter bras are over there.” she pointed “Would like my continued assistance or would you prefer privacy with your girls.”
“Thank you, I think we can handle it from here.” The sales lady quickly disappeared.
“Mom, were you trying to embarrass me with the pretending to be a boy?”
“No, but it was the truth. And I was embarrassed having one of my girls seen in such badly fitting clothes.”
We went and selected a bra for Joy and 3 for me. Mom had me try on all three with the chicken fillets. She took the store tags off one and had me wear it instead of the sports bra. She also had me try on some like tee shirts on they only had little ribbon shoulder straps and the material felt nicer than my tee shirts (I think she called them camisoles). Again I got 3 to Joy’s 1. She also got me 2 three packs of panties one bikini style, and one like the panties I had on. She didn’t make me try those on. We checked out of that department.
Next was jeans. She did the sizing but let me select styles. I picked one decorated with butterfly and flowers thinking, that might help sell the girl thing. Trying them on “Mom, I think these are too small.”
“Just put them on, and let us see.”
When I finally got them on, Mom and Joy both thought they fit fine. I was just thankful for the gaff. Mom also had me try some denim shorts that fit like the jeans. I didn’t like that the legs only went a couple inches below my crotch, but when I saw my legs in the mirror, I thought hot babe, and felt the gaff holding me.
We left that department with two pairs of jeans and the shorts.
Mom asked, “Shoes next?”
And I thought do my feet smell? I’d been wearing that pair of sneakers for 7 months and never given that a thought. Was the mere act of pretending to be a girl turning me into one? Why was I thinking different?
“Is that a yes?”
“Sure mom, that will be fine” I answered.
“To start you need a pair of dress flats.”
We went to a display, where there was a choice of about a dozen colors. Mom commented
“White or black would be most practical and versatile.”
Pointing to an ivory pair, I asked: “Would those be OK.”
“If that is what you want, they are fine.”
At this point, a cute high school looking boy approached us asking “Can I help you, ladies?”
Mom answered, “My daughter would like a pair of the ivory flats. You need to measure her, I’m not sure of her size.”
“Please come over to the fitting area and have a seat.”
I went, carefully sweeping my skirt under me as I sat, pressing my legs together.
He grabbed one of those metal foot sizing things, knelt at my feet and removed my right sneaker. I prayed he wouldn’t be grossed out by my feet. “Nice polish.” He had me stand on the measuring device, “Women’s size 7, I’ll go get you a pair to try on.”
When he was out of sight I grabbed my sneaker and sniffed it, thinking not as bad as I feared, but not very pleasant either. Mom smiled, and Joy giggled.
Joy asked, “Do you think he’s cute?”
Even though that very thought had crossed my mind, I answered: “I don’t think about boys that way.”
Mom jabbed “You must not really be a girl.”
The sales clerk returned with a box, took out one shoe and gently held my ankle putting the shoe on. His touch made me suddenly aware of the gaff. “Please stand.” When I put weight on the foot, he pressed the toe of the shoe, to find my toe. “Please lift your heel.” After looking to see how well the shoe stayed on, he said “Looks like a good fit. Sit down, and I’ll put the other one on, and you can try walking in them.” I sat, carefully sweeping my skirt under me and keeping my knees together. Walking in the flats, felt closer to barefoot than any shoes I had worn. They made me want to skip. Where is that kind of thinking coming from?
Mom asked, “How do they feel?”
“Light, I like how they feel.” was my answer.
“We will take them. Can she wear them out of the store?” Mom asked.
“Sure I’ll put her sneakers in the box. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Yes, she also needs casual school shoes. We are just moving to the area. Perhaps you can advise what is popular with the girls in this area?” asked mom.
“Canvas shoes in pastel colors are trendy right now.” He reached for my hand to lead me over to the display. When our hands touched, there may have been a static discharge between us. I definitely became acutely aware of the gaff.
He took us over to a display, and I chose a powder blue (girls don’t have to choose pink).
Joy wanted a lavender pair.
After trying them on, we bought the three pair of shoes and left the store.
Joy looked at me with a huge smile, which caused me to smile back. She took my hand and we walked together. She started skipping and I joined her. As we skipped along, virtually every woman we passed and most of the men gave us warm smiles. I thought, how could anyone not enjoy being a pretty girl? I felt a closeness and unity with Joy, that was greater than I ever had with TJ. Feeling the pigtails bounce, reminded me of the less than an ideal hairdo. But all the warm smiles, made that seem trivial. I had the thought that the few scowling men, might be smiling if they had had the experience of feeling like a pretty girl.
When we got to the fountain in the middle of the maul, mom took some pictures of us with the fountain in the background, and a short video of us skipping along.
We sat a bench near the fountain. I remembered to sweep my skirt under me and keep my knees together.
Mom said, “You two seem to be enjoying yourselves.”
Joy gushed “This is so much fun. It’s so nice having my sister to shop with.”
I said “This is more fun and easier than I expected. I feel closer to Joy and to you than I did as Charlie. And it seems like I have gotten more smiles just since we left the shoe store than I normally get in a week.”
“You two certainly make a cute pair. While you have both been happy children, you seem to exude your happiness more today than I can ever remember. These are among the best pictures I have of you.” mom said showing us the pictures, she had just taken on the phone.
“It’s nearly noon, let’s stop at the drugstore for some girl supplies then get some lunch.”
In the drugstore, mom took us to the cosmetics area saying “The school discourages heavy makeup, until 9th grade they only permit nail polish and lipgloss. You will be able to use light eye makeup, foundation, and blush. I’m letting you both get your own because it’s best not to share. You can each pick two lipsticks, two nail polish, one mascara, one eyeliner, one foundation, a small palette of eye shadow, one blush, and one powder compact.”
I didn’t realize that there was that much to assemble, and it took a while and quite a bit of consultation to decide, but we finally collected the cosmetics.
“Charli, you probably should probably make it a practice to wear a light fragrance. Boys smell different from girls, and some of the girls may notice.” We sampled fragrances and picked one that had a slight orange smell with mild floral undertones. It was milder smelling than many of the other fragrances. It was called toilet water, which I didn’t think was a very attractive name.
Mom then swept around adding shampoo, conditioner, scented deodorant soap, and scented body powder. She then added feminine pads and tampons saying “We can discuss these at home. You may not need them, but not having them, might raise questions you don’t want to be raised.”
I didn’t realize girls needed so much stuff that boys didn’t.
Mom asked, “Is there anything else you girls think we need?”
I answered “You can get in the checkout line, and I’ll get it.
Mom just smiled, as I joined her in the checkout line, dropping the can of deodorant foot powder in her basket.
At lunch, I was reminded, that there would be some parts I wouldn't enjoy, as mom “suggested” we all have salads.
Mom said “I’m surprised how well this is going, We are all enjoying ourselves. Charli you seem very natural and comfortable as a girl.”
“I wasn’t expecting it to be so easy and so much fun. It does feel comfortable and natural. I am surprised how many smiles I am getting today.” I replied.
“That is because you are smiling more than you usually do. I kinda questioned this whole scenario but seeing how happy you appear, I am more confident you can make a good decision and that I will be happy either way.
Mom went to the receptionist and said “You should have 2 O’clock appointments for Charli (nodding toward me) and Joy (nodding toward her). This is the girl’s first time at a salon. I’m afraid they have outgrown my skill.”
The receptionist replied “Girls, relax and enjoy yourself. This should be very enjoyable for you.”
At this point, two young women came toward the reception desk. “Charli, this is Cynthia who will be your stylist today.” A blonde knockout stepped forward, and my gaff suddenly felt very restrictive. “Cynthia, this is Charli’s first salon visit, so take good care of her.”
“Joy, this is Denice your stylist today. Denice, this is also Joy’s first salon visit.”
“This is their mother, make sure she approves their choices.”
Cynthia took me back to her station. After I sat down she wrapped a shroud around my neck and began unbraiding my hair. “Do you mind if I ask how old you are?
“I’m 13, but I will be entering 11th grade because our mom did such a terrific job homeschooling us.”
“Do you know what kind of style you would like?”
“We looked through magazines last night, and I tentatively picked one called a shag. But I would like your recommendation.”
“Your so pretty, you can work almost any style. But, in your situation, I think you want something that makes you look older not younger. You don’t have a lot of length to work with, so that restricts our choices. I also think you probably want something low maintenance. I’ll start by shampooing and conditioning your hair.” With that, she released the back of the chair, and I found myself fully reclined with my head over a sink.
As she started to shampoo my hair, I said “Yes, I want something low maintenance but more mature. The pigtails were mom's doing, and I wasn’t very happy with them.”
As she massaged the shampoo into my scalp. “Yes, we want to go for more pretty and not so cute. I’m going to rinse out the shampoo now.” She quickly finished that. “Now we are going to shampoo again. Have you discussed hairstyles with your girlfriends?”
“When we were homeschooled it was just my sister and I. We didn’t have much contact with anyone outside the family, except for one neighbor lady, who kind of appointed herself, surrogate grandmother. My sister and I never talked about hair until last night, and even then, it was hard to separate teasing from true feelings. Like I suggested the Shirley Temple style for her, and she picked a long flowing femme fatale style for me.”
“Seems like you have a very good connection with your sister.”
“Yes, and it seems to be getting stronger as we prepare for our first day of school.”
“You mean you have never been in a classroom situation before?” asked Cynthia.
“No, we have only been homeschooled together since I was almost 5 and she was 3 ½.”
As she finished a second rinse “Wow, this is a big step for you. I’ll make sure you look good.”
She worked a towel over my head with her massaging fingers. “I’m going to get your mother and some pictures. Then together we can decide on a style.”
She came back with mom and a loose-leaf binder. “You said, you might like a shag.” opening the book and displaying a picture for mom and I. “That would be a good style for you. It would be low maintenance, only requiring brushing in the morning. If you go that route, I would suggest adding highlights.”
“What are highlights?” I asked.
She opened the book turned pages and set it in front of me. “The picture on the left is without highlights the one on the right with them. It is done by coloring sections lighter or darker. It gives the hair a more three-dimensional look.”
She changes the page to a wavy longer style. “I think you have enough length for something like this. I think it would make you look more mature. But it would be more work. You would have to use a curling iron on it regularly.”
I really liked the style and agreed it would make me look older. But I really didn’t want to have to mess around with curling irons and such.
Mom echoed my thoughts “I don’t think your ready using a curling iron every morning, you don’t even brush it now.”
While true, I found it a little embarrassing having my mom say that in front of Cynthia.
Cynthia showed us a few more styles, but we agreed on the shag with highlights.
“We will start with the highlights because they will be easier to do before we trim the hair.”
As Cynthia started combing out my and separating it into little bunches she wrapped in aluminum foil. “Now we are going to color the highlights, this will smell pretty bad, but such is the price of beauty.” She put on some plastic gloves. Mixed some chemicals together, and applied it to my hair with a sponge. The smell was something you would avoid if possible. But, I didn’t seem to have a choice.
When we finished she walked me over to a magazine rack “You may want to pick something to read while that drys.” I chose a copy of Sixteen though I would have preferred Popular Science. Then over to a different chair. “Now you get to bake.” as she lowered a helmet over my head. She gave me some foam earplugs. “You should put these in your ears.”
I was glad I had put in the earplugs, as the drier was loud and overly hot (in my opinion).
I settled in with the magazine and was into an article on how to achieve different looks with eye makeup. What was happening to me? A week ago I would have had absolutely no interest in this. Was I really turning into a girl, mentally? Was I becoming a different person? Was I losing Charlie? Deep breath. I am just exploring, and I am finding new and interesting things. I am opening new possibilities for myself.
My musings were interrupted by Cynthia turning off the drier. “We didn’t overbake you, did we?”
“I think my brain was overheating,” I said, thinking she doesn’t know how true that is.
Taking me back to the first chair, “I’m going to remove the foils then style your hair.”
She took somewhat longer than mom did cutting my hair. But I found her chatter interesting.
She said she thought I would enjoy high school, making new friends, and with them discovering my own look and style. Another area that was new, but she made it seem fun and exciting.
She dropped the subject of boys when I told her I wasn’t into boys (I’m sure she added a mental yet, but I was closer to adding an ever). Whenever I thought of her, the gaff made its’ presence known, and I wondered how many people had crushes for their hair stylists.
When she removed the cape and handed me a hand mirror, I didn’t know what to expect. Looking into the mirror, I saw a new and definitely feminine me looked back. “I love it!” (the love seemed like overacting to the Charlie me, but to the Charli me it was definitely more than like, and a good way to thank Cynthia, call it flirting, Charlie.)
I got up and twirled in front of a full-length mirror. That felt free and uninhibited and right for the new me.
Assessing myself, though I had chosen the hairdo as androgynous, the highlights tilted to the definitely feminine direction. I decided I was happy with that. I still looked like a 13 year-old girl.
I would have preferred looking like 15, but that would be hard with my body’s lack of shape. It’s not that I wanted to grow up fast, but that I wanted to fit in with the girls I would be schooled with.
Mom came in followed by a new looking Joy.
Mom said, “I love it, on you too.”
“Me too.” from Joy.
I twirled for them while saying “ I love yours too, Joy. It makes you look older, Almost like we could be fraternal twins.”
“That would be so cool! Having you as my sister keeps getting better.” gushed Joy.
We went to “Young and Special”, a store with clothing and accessories targeting teenaged young women.
I looked at endless display models, but thinking back to how I looked in the mirror at the salon, I didn’t feel I could pull off most of them, they emphasized breast or waist and hips I didn’t have. Then I found the perfect dress. I had never felt that way about a piece of clothing before. It was a simple dress with a short skirt and a fabric that drapes well and felt divine (I later learned it was called skater style and was made of microfiber).
It was available in many colors. I chose a maroon, that made me feel mature and sophisticated.
When I put it on and modeled for mom and Joy, I reassured myself that it was indeed perfect for this time and place in my life.
Joy gushed, “You look beautiful!” Mom nodded and I think her eyes glistened.
Joy quickly decided she wanted the same dress except in a royal blue.
The Charlie part of me didn’t want to vocalize how pretty she looked in it, “You look great, sis.”
Mom nodded and said “This was a lot easier than I was expecting. You have both made great selections, that I am very happy with. Together you are ready to wow the world”
When we got to the car, mom opened the trunk and began rummaging through the mornings shopping.
“What are you doing, Mom?” I asked.
“I want to hit Julie, with the new versions of both of you, when we walk in. I can’t wait to see her reaction.” answered mom.
She handed us each one of our new lipsticks. Then each of us a new camisole and me the black bra and a pink pantie. “Girl’s like to match underwear, but you don't have a red bra or a black pantie, and you should wear a darker bra under that dress.”
We headed back to “Young and Special” to use the changing room. We should have left the dresses, but I don’t think, mom’s idea to hit Julie with the whole package, crystalized until the walk back to our car.
Mom helped me, especially with the lipstick. I really did feel young and special, and loved it!
On the ride home, I asked “Mom, could you cut down on the teasing, like the, not a real girl comment?”
Mom replied, “That, comes with the job description for a parent. But seriously, you are faced with a serious decision, one that I fear is too big for a 13-year-old. I think it would serve you well, to be able to pull back, look at your situation, and be able to laugh at yourself. I rationalize, that I am trying to help you do that. Besides, teasing can be fun.”
It took a while to sink in, but mom was right. There was a lot of humor in what I had gone through today, and being able to see that and laugh at myself would help me keep from being buried by the seriousness of the decision I faced. The “You must not be a real girl.” was looking more humorous and feeling less stinging. I needed to reassure us “I love you, mom.”
We held each other’s hand which I found reassuring. I knew we looked good, but I was feeling a little anxious. I really wanted Julie’s approval. While I didn’t expect rejection, I began to wonder how much approval was enough. I felt sorry for those who expected, and all too often received a rejection.
Mom knocked on the office door.
Julie answered, “Come in.”
“No. You come out and see the new versions of Charlie and Joy,” said Mom
The speed she appeared in the doorway was surprising, for the normally slow and deliberate Julie. Seeing us her eyes got big, and her jaw dropped. The room remained silent. After what seemed a long time, but was probably less than a minute, Julie said “You both are beautiful. I thought I was joking this morning, but you have both transformed into sophisticated young ladies.”
Turning to mom she asked “May I have the pleasure of escorting you three lovely young ladies to dinner tonight?”
“We would be delighted to.” mom answered for all of us.
Julie ducked into her office. Ten minutes later, she announced, “We have reservations for my favorite seafood restaurant on Fisherman’s Wharf.”
Julie looked at me, her happy smile changed to a worried look. I wondered what was wrong? Had I done something? She squatted, gave me a hug, “Charli, you look so ravishing, I forgot till just now, you might not be ready for this. We can cancel if it’s a problem for you.”
With relief, I replied “No way! I forgot too. And now I’m really want to go to Fisherman’s Wharf.”
After mom changed (it was still strange to see her in heels) she helped Joy and me with makeup.
“This is probably not the time to experiment with eyeliner and your complexions don’t need any help, but you may want to try a little eye shadow and mascara.”
I put on some rose eye shadow, under mom’s supervision. Joy chose a light blue to go with her dress.
Mom demonstrated putting on mascara “Be careful, it’s easy to poke yourself in the eye.” It wasn’t easy, but both Joy and I managed without serious injury.”
Mom asked “Charli, do you mind if I shape your brows a little.”
“What do you mean?” This was seaming a little ominous.
“I’ll just pluck a few strays”
I didn’t like the idea of being plucked, but I said: “Go ahead.”
She plucked hairs. It hurt, but not as bad as I feared. When she finished she took a pencil from her purse and used it on my brows. “Look in the mirror, and see how you like that.”
When I looked, it was hard to recognize myself. The arch in the brows definitely made me look more feminine. The brows, the lipstick, the shadow, and the mascara all worked together to give me an older appearance (maybe 15?). “I like it, thanks, mom.”
The Wharf was the mall on steroids. Joy and I held hands as we strolled, the smiles we received were warmer and more numerous than at the mall. Mom and Julie’s smiles were bordering of full-fledged grins.
On the drive to the restaurant, I retold the story of mom’s “You must not be a real girl”.
Mom defended herself against Julie’s frown with “I told her she had to learn to see the humor in her situation and be able to laugh at herself.”
Julie said, “We all need to remain thankful, that we are blessed so much love in this family.
We need to give each other a little leeway, when one of us says something that stings, knowing the intention was not to hurt. Frankie, you need to remember that young ladies have delicate sensitivities. Charlie, your mother is right, you need to see the humor in your situation, and be able to laugh at yourself. That was a hard lesson for me to learn. But without it, I doubt I could have gotten to the wonderful place, I am now.”
The fine restaurant was a wonderful new experience. But I was floating on such a high cloud, over the public reception of Charli, that I have trouble relating the details.
_____________________________________________________________________________
The next part will be the final part, I hope you enjoy the process Charli(e) uses to decide. There will be a revelation at the end that many may find surprising.
I got up showered and looked at the new me, in the mirror. It seemed like an out of body experience. That girl in the mirror couldn't be me. Yet, I had spent a wonderful day as her. Despite seeing my naked body, complete with dangling genitals, I had, the strange thought, that I needed lipstick. Was something happening to my mind? I seemed to suddenly be thinking differently.
I tried on the new pastel blue bikini panties over the flesh colored gaff. The panties were comfortable, and I liked the view in the mirror better. I wasn't sure if it was because I liked looking at girls in panties or because I liked looking like a girl or both. It felt a little strange having so little covered down there. But overall I felt good about myself (pretty unusual for a teenaged girl).
I got dressed in one of the new pairs of jeans, a girl band tee from Charlie's wardrobe and my new powder blue shoes. I noted that the tee evoked thoughts of girl power solidarity, rather than the old eye candy thoughts.
Brushing my hair quickly brought it close to where Cynthia (thoughts of hot babe intruded) had left it. I added a little of my new pink lip gloss.
I went down to breakfast, where Joy and mom were already eating.
"Good morning, Sis!" exclaimed Joy excitedly.
"Morning Charli, did you sleep well?" asked mom.
"I slept great, fell off quickly and slept without interruption until waking refreshed a little while ago," I replied.
"You can drop some waffles in the toaster and pour yourself some milk and juice." said mom.
I thought she was making the transition from full-time mom, to shortcut taking career woman quickly. The family was going to face a lot of major change quickly.
"You look pretty in your new clothes," said Joy.
"Thank you," I replied, feeling a little warmth in my cheeks, not being used to being called pretty.
We chatted about how much fun we all had yesterday. Mom told us how proud she was of us, and with the new hairdo's and our mature behavior, we seemed to have added two years growth in a single day. I added, I too had seen that growth in Joy and that she seemed more an equal companion, than the little sister needing protection that she had seemed days earlier. I found Joys beaming face heartwarming.
As we cleaned up, Julie came in saying, "Spending the evening with you three lovely ladies was enchanting."
Mom replied, "Thank you, for the lovely enchanting evening and the opportunity to show off my lovely young ladies."
They exchanged knowing smiles, that had me wondering what might have gone on while I slept.
Julie fixed herself a coffee and disappeared into her office.
" I would like a little alone time to collect my thoughts from yesterday," I stated.
Joy frowned. But mom smiled and said "That would be good. Joy, leave your sister alone."
'Yes, mom," replied Joy, but the way she stomped off left me wondering how long I would have before she intruded.
I went to my room, closed the door, got out my laptop, and began typing my thoughts:
1. Comfort. I had been surprisingly comfortable as a girl. I thought I would be anxious about being identified as a boy in a skirt, but as the morning wore on, I found myself worrying more about what people thought of the pigtails. As a girl, I received lots of smiles, that felt like you are a nice girl, a pretty girl, a well-behaved girl. As a boy, a what kind of trouble are you going to get in now scowl was more likely. After Julie’s comments on feminine mannerisms and speech patterns, I was beginning to doubt my ability to present as a boy, without appearing gay. Surprisingly this was clearly pro-girl.
2. School. No contest. St. Katherine’s was clearly superior in almost all ways, to the public school I would go to as a boy. Another strong pro-girl.
3. Safety. I was in real fear of getting the shit beat out of me, as a boy. Girl seemed much safer.
4. Restrooms. Girls were generally (not always) cleaner and better smelling, and usually a better social experience. But boys were quicker and easier. Point and shoot still preferred. Slightly pro boy.
5. Friends. I found myself looking forward to friendships with other girls. As a boy, friendships with other boys seemed more problematic. Pro girl.
6. Sister. TJ and I had been extremely close. But I think Joy and Charli were even closer. Pro Girl.
7. Mom. I think mom was being stricter and more intrusive with Charli than Charlie. This might just be normal mother-teen daughter dynamics and lead to closer bonding later. But I liked the relative freedom and invisibility Charlie had. Slightly pro boy.
8. Julie/Dad. Julie had always been kind and caring, but there had always been a wall. I think most of the wall had come down with the fatherhood revelation. But she was showing even more vulnerability trying to help me. I think sharing the boy to girl experience will make us even closer. Pro girl.
9. Genital Comfort. Wearing the gaff had gotten to the point where I could forget I was wearing it until some hot girl wondered by (or even the girl in the mirror, which was a little disturbing.) But letting them dangle in boxers, was definitely more comfortable. Pro boy.
10. Clothes. More variety and selection and more enjoyable shopping with girls. More durable, less fussy, less time needed to select, sometimes more comfortable with boys. Pro girls.
11. Hair. Easier, less time consuming for boys. Pro boy.
12. Male privilege. Men paid more for the same work. Positions of power and prestige reserved for or biased toward men. Women’s ideas and opinions often ignored or diminished. Women stuck with more routine drudge work. Pro boy.
13. Emotions. Women were a roller coaster of highs and lows. Men were repressed, which I thought was unhealthy. Perhaps I can get the best of both, Pro girl, Con hormones.
14. Makeup. Can provide different looks, can be fun. Time and money consuming. Generally a girl thing. Slightly pro boy.
15. Religion. Some call choosing girl an abomination and condemn that choice to hell. I see this as more an argument against those religions than for boy. Slightly pro boy.
16. Future. I had assumed I would become a husband and father. I now realized I had little knowledge what either of those really meant. Still, it was a dream that I was not ready to let go of.
Could being a mother replace that dream? I don't know. Pro boy.
I decided that these were not equally important. And for some the decisions were close. So I would assign an importance weight to each item and a strength multiplier for how close the decision was.