Sunday, December 1
My sweet actual' sister Becca went back to school last Monday early in the morning (really early flight, but she promised Mom she wouldn't miss any classes), and my adopted sister-wives were all in the doldrums of after Thanksgiving' but `not yet Christmas yet'. I had the double duty of ushering at a Church kid's Christmas pageant in a couple of weeks and also doing my best Emily Blunt imitation in a part in a play written for a male. I of course, being a biological male learning to be a female and now playing a female playing a male part was... Well, I had my lines memorized, so let Mr. Mac figure it out.
Monday was a two-fer. First, I showed up at school with my new hair, makeup, and nails. Maddy was the only one who knew what to expect, and the rest of the sister wives, well, the rest of everyone, made a HUGE deal about my new look.
Mom and Dad used to do a lot of charity auction gala thingies and parties around Christmas, and I remember him looking like a prince in his tuxedo and Mom dressed all special. Mom had been skipping most of these since Dad died, and I understand that. However, after what Dr. Strange said about getting me outside of my comfort zone, she decided that we should do some of these with me as her `plus one'. We'd start out slowly, with just two parties -- one at a big downtown luncheon club where she and Dad were long-time members (and where she'd been on the board a long time ago) and another at a regional theater fundraiser where she, again, had been on the board and was a long-time donor. Both of these would be welcome settings and fairly progressive in terms of... well... if anyone knew about ME. So, with that, this was going to be a fashion shopping week.
On Monday, though, it was back to Dr. Strange's office. He wanted to do a full physical workup this time, and so I had to pee in a cup and strip to my undies and put on one of those stupid backward facing robes and wait for him and a female nurse. Also, since I'm still under 18 (last I checked), Mom had to be in the room. Great. A whole audience with me as the floor show.
First thing he wanted to do was measure and photograph (!?!?!?!) my boobage growth. Seriously? Photograph? Is this legal? (Asked the girl who had a 16 year old boy's dick in her mouth two days ago.) OK... First things first, the topless show. Next... gulp... he had me stand in front of him and lift my gown and he lowered the front of my panties (yes, plain white bikinis) and carefully examined the vestiges of what used to be my boyhood. He examined the tiny, non-growing testicles (too small to really call them `balls') and examined my penis. He seemed to be fascinated with how much -- or little -- it was growing, I guess thanks to his brilliance with puberty blockers.
Thankfully, no photography south of the border.
Finally, he tape-measured my waist and hips. He asked, "How are your clothes fitting? Have you noticed any tightness around the hips?"
No, frankly I hadn't, but then again, I was wearing lots of skirts and dresses and loose shorts, so no, I wasn't exactly wearing much in the way of tight jeans. "No, why?"
"As we'd discussed before, your particular hormonal mixture is such that you'll probably start developing some fatty deposits around your hips and buttocks."
"We can only hope!"
"Yes, Christy, that's good, but it can also be bad. I want you to start exercising. Try jogging, or riding a bicycle, or something to develop muscles in your hips and legs. Otherwise, you may end up disappointed in the results."
"Jogging. When? Dr. Preston, I don't mean to sound... onery? But, my schedule is already cram packed. You're talking about what, another hour before or after school every day?
"Or a half hour. Not that much. Or even a treadmill or an exercycle.
You could ride an exercycle in front of the TV at night."
I sighed. Naked. Sighing. "Yes, Sir. I'll get right on it."
Tuesday morning, Mom woke me up about 30 minutes before regular time, and handed me Princess' leash. "Dr. Preston says you need to start running. Princess is getting fat. Grab your sweat pants and shoes, and head around the block."
Arrggg..... I could see this would be my daily routine. Around our block' was about a quarter mile, so not too bad. My guess was somewhere along the line, our block' would become `our neighborhood' and 30 minutes early would become an hour.
On Tuesday afternoon, Mom and I headed out for some couture fashion shopping. What exactly does a young girl wear to formal galas in the winter? We'd already had the great dress escapade at the school dance the night I met Carlos, so now we needed something more along that line.
My school dress had a high neckline, but now I'm slowly developing some boobage (not much, but still...) and I'm more comfie in high heels.
After a bit of shopping at the first two stores, we settled on a spaghetti strap square neckline sequin skater dress with a basic plum color but dazzled with like a million or so sequins. It had a natural waist line and the skater-cut and fairly short hemline gave me some comfort for my otherwise non-existent hips. I'd pair that with a pair of strappy cream-colored high heels, nude hose, and matching cream colored nail polish, which we bought at the cosmetics counter before we left.
For the other party, and after two more stores, we found a great short black dress, again with spaghetti straps but a v-neck, a similar skater-cut and hemline, but a slightly higher waist. It would match perfectly with black hose and black pumps.
The two parties would be this coming Friday (wow... that quick?) and then the next one next Saturday, the 14th.
As we were shopping, Mom asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I told her a vagina, and she just laughed.
Wednesday and Thursday were more of the same. The school play was semi-coming together and would perform for three nights (all this fucking work for THREE NIGHTS???) on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday next week.
My hair still looked pretty good from the coloring Maddy and Becca did, but Mom suggested I get a permanent and a color touch up at her salon next Monday, which sounded great.
Friday I was like a nervous wreck. I'd never been to a really formal thing, other than our school dance which wasn't that formal I guess, and I'd be around hundreds of people who didn't know me and certainly didn't know I was trans. This would be delightful... Fortunately, this first one was just a stand-up cocktail party from 5 until 7, so all I really needed to figure out how to do was look pretty and stand in heels for two hours. Piece of cake.
I started in on my hair and makeup the moment I got home. I re-did my eyes three times. I think I spent an hour on my face alone. My hair wasn't too bad and brushed out pretty much the way I wanted it. It was semi-cold outside, so I wore a white `not-too-Christmassy" shortie sweater to go with the plum sequined dress. The dress had a built-in bra, but it was cut for a girl with slightly more boobage than me.
Fortunately enough, Mom showed me how to pad this without looking padded. She also showed me a trick with makeup to create cleavage where none existed. She used a bronzer that was slightly darker than my skintone and applied where a cleavage would be with a blush-brush, and then added a highlighting powder above the bra line. With just a few strokes, this all got blended, and from the front, at least, I looked like I had actual boobies.
The dress was short, but not too short. Mom had me practice leaning over, and I quickly found I was going to put on a show if I wasn't careful. I was wearing nude hose, but skin-tone panties underneath.
Someone was at least going to THINK they were getting a free show!
Fortunately, Mom's club had valet parking, so the walk from the car to the entrance wasn't too far. It was VERY warm inside, so I checked my sweater, and decided to show off my faux-cleavage and long legs. I got the looks I was hoping for, and NO ONE appeared to clock me. I checked in a mirror, and from all appearances, I was a mid-teen girl in a stunning dress.
The party went on for two hours. Plenty of men who knew my Dad, and who hadn't seen mom in a few years, came up to console her and, frankly, to hit on her. She smiled and took it all in stride. She introduced all of them to me, and the semi-dirty old men didn't know what to think. I just smiled, tried to do my best Taylor Swift impression, batted my eyes, and told them how lovely it was to meet them. About half mentioned that they had a son my age and how much I should want to meet them. Sigh....
The two hours passed quickly. I hardly noticed I was standing in heels all that time. Finally, the crowd started heading for the door, as did Mom and I. The valet had our car pulled around in no time, and out of the blue, two young men were opening our doors for us. I had practiced getting in and out of a car without too much of a wardrobe malfunction, and I could see that the young man on my side was hoping I'd slip up.
Sadly for him, I was careful to put my butt in first, hold my knees together, and carefully twist my legs into the car without too much of a show. I smiled at him, and I could see he was trying to find out of my cleavage was real or not.
On Saturday, we had a mandatory dress rehearsal. The set builders had done a great job of building something that looked both modern and 16th century. I did my best Emily Blunt, with a calf-length burgundy pencil skirt and a complimenting long-sleeved burgundy satin blouse. With my newly colored hair, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses, I think I pulled it off. At least Mr. Mac didn't have any notes for me. Carlos was brilliant, and handsome, and brilliant. However, too many people missed their lines, so we were `informed' that Sunday afternoon was on for another dress rehearsal.
This morning, Mom and I did the Church and Sunday school thing again. I tried to melt into the wall paper, but Brenda cornered me in Sunday School, wanting to know if I'd be there this evening. I told her about the play and the dress rehearsal and I'd try, but no promises. She was cool with that.
On the way to the parking lot, Father Bernie cornered Mom and me. He walked with us to our car and said, "I see you've made friends with Brenda."
I replied, "I think everyone makes friends with Brenda. She's kinda all over the place, right?"
He said, "Yeah, and she can be your best friend here. She's more than just a gadfly. She's really, really sincere, although sometimes doesn't come across that way. She's also really progressive on a lot of things. Christy, we do a lot of outings, like ski trips and camping and such. We spend a couple of weeks every summer on a Native American reservation working with kids and living in pretty rustic conditions in big tents. There's a lot of... well... cohabitation..."
"Yeah, I get it."
"Yeah, anyway, I think it would be a great idea to integrate your transition into who you are here. This may be new to a lot of kids and families, but most of them are already pretty progressive on LGB issues.
You're the first "T" many of them have met, and, anyway, I think Brenda could be a great co-conspirator in that integration, if you know what I mean."
"You want me to come out to Brenda?"
"Let me handle that. She's showing up a few minutes early tonight to plan the program. If I have your permission, and your Mom's permission..." With that, he looked over at mom and she smiled and nodded. "Anyway, I'll broach the subject with her and see what she says. OK? I mean, eventually, it's going to come out. You might as well be proactive about it."
I just nodded and took a deep breath. "OK. I don't know what everyone's expectations are going to be, but I'm along for the ride."
Dress rehearsal this afternoon was better than yesterday. I was REALLY bummed that I wouldn't see Carlos this weekend except at rehearsals, but we got to spend a little time together, and he asked me if I'd like to come over for dinner sometime soon and meet his family. I was really looking forward to doing that sometime soon, but I schedules were a pain in the ass. I told him about maybe next Sunday after Church, and he said they had a big lunch every Sunday so that would be great.
I made it to the Church Youth Group this evening, and even got there a few minutes early. I again tried to find a good spot to blend in with the wall, but Brenda pounced on me like a hungry puppy. What she said, though, completely caught me off guard.
"Christy!!!! Can I sit by you?" Without waiting, she popped down on the sofa and turned to face me. "Father Bernie just told me. Christy, this may come out the wrong way, but you are like the very first transgendered person I have ever met. Or I guess. Maybe. Maybe I have and didn't know. Anyway, this a HUGE adventure you're on. How can I help?"
It took me a second to comprehend. "Soooo..... you're OK with it?"
"OK with it????? Are you kidding? I'm thrilled. Thank you for letting Father Bernie share. This is soooo exciting. We need to come up with a strategy. How do we tell everyone else? Are you trying to keep it a secret, or what?"
"Ahhhh.... Well, I'm not really keeping it a secret. Everyone at school knows, and they're cool with it. Father Bernie kinda realizes that if I go on camping trips or ski trips with the group or summer projects, you guys might not be cool with suddenly finding out some of my plumbing faces the wrong direction."
"Plumbing faces the wrong direction! Oh how funny. That's funny, Christy. I know, it may not be funny to you, but it's hilarious to me.
I'm sorry if I'm laughing."
"No, no, no. Go ahead and laugh. At least I don't have periods."
"Oh gawd, that's right."
"Well, not exactly. I don't have menstrual issues, but the hormones I'm on do create a sort of a monthly type emotional cycle. It's weird and hard to describe."
"Oh, Christy, I want to learn everything about it. I seriously do.
Let's talk this week. Can I call you? What's your number?"
I pulled out my phone and she typed in her number. I told her about the play this week and how it would probably be like Saturday before I could talk. She was cool with that. Saturday morning was a date.
The rest of the get together was pretty much like the one last week.
Father Bernie ask for a show of hands if we THOUGHT we were going on the ski trip in January. I glanced over at Brenda and she was nodding enthusiastically so I slowly raised my hand. Six girls, including me, and eight boys.
Now, on to the play.