Monday, September 30
Yes, I woke up smelling like a pig. Then I remembered that I actually do not know what pigs smelled like. Anyway, too much junque food, not enough bathing, and too much wearing the same clothes for 36 straight hours.
Today was the first day of winter school uniforms, which meant trading in the golf shirt for a blouse, a school tie, and a blazer with a pin-on pocket patch with the school seal. In the really cold weather, girls would wear tights, but usually avoided them unless it was bitterly cold. There was no absolute school rule about skirt length, but the general pecking order was that ninth graders and below wore skirts just above the knee, and skirts got progressively shorter as you progressed to senior year. Even during senior year, girls would compete with one another and skirts could get pretty scandalous near graduation. This alone kept Mr. Petrie busy during the Spring semester.
I knew I was going to see Carlos at lunch, and took very careful time with my hair and makeup. School generally wasn't a make-up heavy event, cuz girls have so very few opportunities to touch up during the day. A little concealer, a little foundation, a little blush, some mascara and lip gloss was about all we could count on.
I got up early cuz I had to wash my hair and blow it out and didn't have time for any mistakes. I'm not close to being an expert on that yet, but was pretty proud of my efforts this morning. I put on one of Becki's old shirts, and it fit me like a tent. My sister was a full B' cup in the 9th grade, but my little bras were fitted for an A' cup insert. I grabbed some tissue and tried to make sure I was at least a full A', but I still looked like a 5th grader. Her hand-me-down jacket, from when she was in the 9th grade, was also tailored for a B' cup girl, and I might as well have been wearing one of my old `boy' jackets from last year. Girls wear neckties just like boys, and usually have them tied very neatly at the start of the school day, but most girls wear them lose later in the day. Teachers don't seem to care one way or another.
The sister wives met at the parking lot and walked together to the quad before school started. Everyone of the five was all over me, because apparently word was out I'd kissed Carlos. I swore everyone to secrecy, hopping that would do some good. It was enough being the school's pet transgendered girl, without being the school tramp as well. Everyone promised me that a) they'd keep the secret and b) no one would give more than the briefest fuck.
First, second, and third periods came and went. I rushed to drama, but realized on the way that Carlos wouldn't be there until lunch. Mostly in one corner, some kids were working on some weird improve exercises, and everyone else was doing lines from Merchant. I grabbed a seat on the crummy freshman sofa and buried my nose in the script. I felt a `presence' and looked up to see Jeremy hanging over me, I guy in my class I hardly knew and didn't think knew me, either. He said to me, "You going camping this weekend?"
That shook me out of my little reverie. "Huh... is that this weekend?"
"First weekend in October. It's in your school calendar."
"Shit. Yeah. OK. Yeah. I guess. You?"
"Yeah, my parents think I need all the `team building' I can get, so yeah, they wouldn't let me miss it if I was in a full body cast."
"Yeah, my Mom is big on it. She'll probably chaperone. Dunno why she hasn't said anything. Maybe figured I was just going along for the ride. Anyway, need to plan. Huh..."
"Not much to plan. Got a tent? Sleeping bag? You're in."
"Yeah, I guess."
"Yeah well, see ya."
Now, I can't remember the last time Jeremy said 3 words to me, so was he suddenly getting friendly or was I now part of a special fraternity in drama were people talked to me, or was I just the school's novelty of the day, and everyone wanted to talk to me like they talk to the monkeys at the zoo? Huh... I'll see if a pattern emerges.
Note to future readers: To my great, great, great grand children who stumble on this weird little diary of mine... Our school is fairly small, about 40 kids per grade, K-12, so like 500 or so, give or take. The school board and admin are really big on team-building, almost from day one, so every class does some kinds of team building exercises. In the lower school grades, they do class plays and evolve into some spend-the-nights in the big commons room with all-day Saturday team building. That's what we did last year in the 8th grade. Somewhere along the line, someone had the great idea' (my computer really needs a sarcasm' font) that ninth thru 12th grades should actually go camping as a grade and have all-day Saturday team building outdoors. For us ninth graders, this is going to be pretty simple stuff. I hear that by the 12th grade, the team building resembles Marine Corps boot camp. It happens every other weekend in the Fall, starting with us and then ending up with the Seniors right before Thanksgiving. Word has it freshman weekend is usually cold and wet. Sigh... so there's that. We'll all wear camping clothes to school on Friday, and leave right after last period. If our parents aren't chaperoning, you can leave your backpack or whatever in the office.
So, now I gotta add THAT to things I have to think about.
Time passed slowly. I focused on `Merchant' and suddenly there was a bounce on the sofa. Carlos!
"Ya miss me?"
"Well, don't you know how to sweet talk a girl. Yea, I missed you. You miss me?"
"What do you think?"
"Ya see, that's the problem, matey. I don't know what the fuck to think. I'm totally new at this. I don't have a lifetime of girl-ness to fall back on. I don't even have a lifetime of boy-ness, cuz as far back as I can remember, I was confused about everything... gender.... sexuality... "
"Hey, maybe someone hasn't signed you up for freak lessons yet. I'll call the club and complain on your behalf. Anyway, here's lesson #1. We're all confused, not just freaks like us but everyone, even the straight people and the people who think they're straight and worst of all, the people WE THINK ARE STRAIGHT BUT MAYBE AREN'T."
"Huh. I mean... huh..."
"Look from what you told me Saturday, you're really fucking lucky and you know it, and that's ok. Good for you. Most of your brothers and sisters out there, freak and straight, don't have anything like the emotional net that you have. Even the straight guys and girls can't go to their parents and tell them they have a raging hard-on for the girl/guy across the room and can't think straight."
"How are your parents?"
"Clueless. Fucking clueless. They kinda guess I'm not totally straight, but the concept of `bi' is way beyond them. They're just happy I get good grades and have their fingers crossed I don't catch any incurable diseases. Which is, by the way, the same prayer every parent in this school says every day."
"Ahhh... I dunno how to ask this, but are you.. have you..."
"Fucked?"
"I was going to put it a bit more politely, but..."
"Not `zactly. Came close. Two girls and three guys. Lots of 2nd and 3rd base, if you know what I mean."
"Ahhh... I'm going to look really, really stupid here, but no, I only vaguely have an idea of what 2nd and 3rd base mean. Did we make it to 1st base Saturday night?"
"We got close, I'll say that. You are a great kisser. Maybe sometime soon we can share a joint and I'll lay it all out for you. It's a conversation best done stoned."
Now, I have nothing against pot. If anyone reads this diary, I may or may not be a pot virgin. Let's leave it at that. However, it's one thing to... hypothetically speaking... sneak a joint in Brie's yard one night while her parents have gone off and another thing to plan to get high with a 16 year old boy who wants to show (?) me what 2nd and 3rd bases are... I mean.... Sooo.....
"Hell yeah. Can't wait. When?"
"How `bout this weekend?"
"No can do. Ninth grade camping trip."
"Oh yeah. Forgot about that. My first `2nd base' was on my 9th grade camping trip. Pick your tent-mate carefully."
Arrrggghhhh.... I would probably share a tent with Brie. Needed to text her asap. Just almost thru up in my throat thinking about getting to 2nd base with her.
"Yeah, that's not going to happen."
"Your Mom let you date on school nights?"
"You have a wildly over inflated view of my social life. The topic of `dating' has yet to come up in the Dancer household.... However... how far from me do you live?"
We grabbed our phones and started mapping from his house to mine. Turns out, he only lived about 10 minutes from me. "Mom would be up to us reading lines together in the basement. I can't promise doing a joint even in the yard cuz I'm sure she'll watch you like a hawk, but maybe one night this week?"
"Lemme check. Maybe Wednesday?"
"Yeah, that's good. We'll spend Thursday night packing for the camping trip."
"Tip about camping -- don't carry much. You won't shower for 3 days, so basic toiletries and a towel just in case, a sleeping bag, a pad, a pillow, spare clothes just in case. Flashlight. Tent. They provide food, but take snacks and a water bottle and a coffee cup. A small spray bottle of Febreze. Seriously. Oh, and bug spray. And sunblock, just in case. Oh, and you won't get anywhere near an electric plug, so take one of those portable phone chargers. A couple off them."
"Yeah. Good stuff."
"And something to read. There's down time."
"Thanks. Wanna do dinner Wednesday?"
"How `bout after dinner? My mom is nuts about dinner as a family."
"Sure, if that works. Seven?
"Seven thirty?"
"I'll ask mom, but I'll text you today."
Just then, lunch was ending and I realized I hadn't actually eaten anything. I grabbed one bight of the apple in my lunch bag, and ran toward 5th period. I caught up with Brie in the hall and said, "when were you going to remind me this weekend was the camping trip?"
"Oh shit. Is that this weekend? Do you own a tent?"
"Yes, sister wife, I own a tent. Mom actually tried me out on Boy Scouts. I was almost a complete failure, but learned to pitch a tent."
"Am I in your tent?"
"I'm not sleeping alone."
"What do I bring?"
It came as no surprise that Brie had never been camping. Her mom thought camping was a hotel with no room service. "I'll call you tonite. We need to talk."
"Yeah, gimme an REI shopping list. My mother won't miss a chance to spend money."
"You need boots."
"Fuck you say!"
"Yes. Actual boots. And non-designer jeans. The kind that people wear on construction sites."
"Shit."
Three more periods and I was out of there. Mom was in the parking lot, and we headed straight for Dr. Strange's office. I tried to remind myself not to call him that to his face. Preston. Dr. Preston. Not Strange. On the way, I said to Mom, "I forgot the camping trip was this weekend."
Yes, I'm going to chaperone. I'm taking Princess with me. I assume you'll sleep in one of the kids tents?"
"Yeah, Brie and I are going to share a tent. Hey, she's like a total novice to camping. I told her I'd call her tonite with suggestions on what to carry. Do you have a list?"
"I have some ideas. I'll write them down for you later, maybe while you're talking with Dr. Preston. Do your boots still fit? And your jeans?"
"I'll check when I get home."
When we got there, the receptionist escorted Mom and me back into his office. He came in a few minutes later, and looked at my Mother. "Ms. Dancer, so lovely to see you. I need another blood test on Christy. Perhaps you can do that tomorrow afternoon after school?"
I loathe needles in my arm, so I asked him, "Why?"
"You've been on the hormone blockers for a week, Christy. I want to see if they've had any immediate effect. Your blood test last week was a baseline, and now we can do this again to see the change."
"Am I going to need to give blood every week?"
"No, not every week, but after this, probably monthly."
I was REALLY pleased to hear I was going to be a pincushion for awhile.
Dr. Preston told Mom he'd like to talk with me in private for a while, and she headed out to the reception room. He then turned to me and said, "So, Christy, tell me about your week."
I did a complete data dump on him. I told him about the sister wives, and Ms. Weston, and Mr. Petrie and the drama club and the play and getting cast in a look like Emily Blunt' role and about the dance and the beautiful dress and Carlos and how we danced and yes, I told him about the kiss, and how Carlos and I talked on the phone all day Sunday. I told him about Carlos seeing me in drama at lunch, but left out the get high and talk about the bases' part.
He took notes, and nodded. "Are you sexually attracted to this Carlos boy?
"I'm not really sure yet what `sexually attracted' means. He kissed me. I kissed him back. He called me the next day. I can't stop thinking about him, so yes, I'm attracted to him, but I'm like w-a-a-a-a-ay out of my league when you ask about sexual attraction. I can't even envision what that would be like yet."
He took more notes, and nodded some more. "Do you think about him at night in bed?"
I just nodded.
"Has he said anything about your physical appearance? In other words, is he attracted to you as a girl or as a boy in girls clothes?"
That hit me like a ton of bricks. "I... don't.... know. I know that Carlos is bisexual, or at least says he is, and he's `dated' both boys and girls, although he says he's still a virgin but has... ahhh... had some... relationships... with both... boys... and ... "
"Yes, that's not surprising. Let me ask it this way. If you were alone with Carlos, and enjoying a level of intimacy with him -- not sex, just, let's say, `heavy petting', would you vision yourself in the female role?"
I nodded. Vigorously.
"I'm sorry it's very early in your transition to begin estrogen, but on the other hand, you have an excess of estrogen in your body already. With the hormone blockers, you may start to develop even light female sexual characteristics."
I was really not up for hearing that. I was really, really hoping there was some way I was going to pull my skirt up and my panties down and get a shot of estrogen right there in his office and start growing boobs that evening. No, that's a fantasy world, but still, a girl can dream, right?
"Has your mother had a birds-and-bees talk with you?"
"Our school does a pretty thorough job of explaining where babies come from, yeah, I've been up--to--date on entry level gynecology since the 5th grade or so."
"No, I mean, are you comfortable with how you, as a pre-operative female transgender, can be `with a boy' and enjoy his company?"
"Ahhhh... well, I've seen more than a few pornos, if that's what you mean."
Dr. Strange then gave me a brief tutorial, something like the script of one of the pornos I'd watched. He discussed safe sex, and disease protection. He reached in his desk drawer and produced a pack of condoms and suggested I keep these in my purse at all times. He also suggested if I was going to be intimate with a boy, I keep a small pack of tissues and some lotion in my purse, again at all times. He explained the processes and procedures, somewhat clinically, but enough to make me blush completely. I just nodded, but had a fairly good idea now of approximately where 2nd and 3rd bases were.
On the ride home, Mom said she'd typed out a list on her iPad in the doctors office, and would text me that when we got home. I told her about Carlos and asked if he could come over Wednesday to study. She was readily agreeable, and I sat back and thought about what a hugely busy week. It was going to be.
After calling Brie and giving her some ideas -- and a shopping list for her mom -- I did some homework (no tests tomorrow, thankfully) and got ready for bed. Makeup off, moisturizer on, brush my hair, check my nails, and turn in, dreaming about Carlos and Wednesday evening's study session.