Sunday, March 15
This week sucked completely and totally.
Completely.
Totally.
First, the big picture -- people are dropping like flies from this virus that's going around. On Friday, the governor closed all the schools and... well fuck... now what? Our school sent out an e-mail saying that they were working up some kind of video system for classes, and that we could work at home and they'd set up a portal to submit homework and tests and... shit it sounds like some kind of mess.
The sisterwives have been all over the phone all week, and everyone's crying and scared and wondering if we're going to turn into hermits or zombies or what. Every night this week, I had long and sometimes tear-stained calls with Carlos, who is also pulling his hair out at home. Since his parents took in his great grandfather from the nursing home a couple of weeks ago, Carlos has been drafted to be the main caregiver. His parents have been making constant calls to try to find caregivers, but everyone who wears scrubs for a living is slammed with hospital work right now. I asked if there was anything I could do, but his family was adamant about keeping away from anyone from the outside. Carlos has become, for all practical purposes, a prisoner in his own house.
Mom is smiling. She basically predicted all of this and got her clients out of the stock market before it crashed. Since she's the ONLY one in the world who's not clinically depressed right now, she's drill-sergeant-ing Becky and I, with household discipline, up every morning, regular meals, actually bathing and dressing every day as if we had somewhere to go and doing housework and chores. Uggghhhh....
Becky is worse off than me. She was having a great time at college, both classes and social life were going perfectly for her. Now she's stuck here as the semi-second-adult in the household and expected to pull her own weight. She was rebelling even more than me.
Mom and Becky got home last Sunday right about the time I was getting ready for bed. I'd been sleeping in some of Becky's nightwear for a while but decided to clean them and put them back before she got home, just in case. Thus, I was back to my plain Jane stuff.
Mom seemed to be weirdly enjoying this zombie apocalypse. She'd called the stock market on the nose, and all of her clients were calling her a magician. (Maybe witch would be more descriptive.) Becky and I work up Monday morning to the smell of what would normally be a weekend breakfast (pancakes, sausage, etc. etc. etc.) and Mom had the kitchen table all set and acting like she was throwing a holiday party. Becky was acting all the world like she was hung over (turns out she'd done ALL of the driving home over the weekend while Mom tracked the news on her Ipad).
The food was great. Mom said she was happy to have "her girls" back home together, even under these circumstances. Becky was paranoid over school, and I was concerned although less so. Becky and I are close, but because of the age difference, we don't really talk that much. F'instance, I don't even know if she has a boyfriend or not at school, and I know I haven't told her much about Carlos. I will say that we both looked vaguely alike at breakfast -- grubby sweats, old robes of vague pastel colors, and fluffy socks. Our dog, Princess, seemed happy to have us both home, and spent all of breakfast either sniffing us or staring at the table hoping against hope that a piece of sausage would hit the floor.
My cell phone ding'd an e-mail, and it was school telling me that they were setting up remote learning (which I already knew) but that it would be at least a week to get everything firmed up. Students were advised to read forward in our texts, take practice quizzes in the textbooks, and more info would be coming soon. If there were any questions, there was a URL for an info website. Sigh... sounds like a lot to keep up with.
Mom suggested both of us needed good workstations in our bedrooms, cuz everything was prolly going to go to zoom, and so we needed good lighting and comfie chairs and clean desks. Mom offered to order some of those round ring light thingies, which was a great idea.
After b'fast, Becky and I helped clean up then headed for the TV where Mom was already watching too much news. We assumed our normal positions -- Becky on the sofa, me on the floor under a blanket, Princess snuggled up to me. After forever of silence, Becky said, "you're looking too good, sis."
"Huh?"
"Most of us have to work years to look as cute as you. You're making the rest of us look bad."
"Really, cuz most mornings I think Princess and I came from the same kennel."
Eventually, Mom got up to do something (what, we never know) in the kitchen, and I said to Becky, "I wish I had your boobs. I know when you were my age you weren't much bigger than I am now, but look at you now. You're beautiful."
"Well, Christy, when you turn 18, do what I do and buy your rack off the rack."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"My boobs were my graduation present from Mom. I was a floppy B cup when I was a senior. Go look at my prom photos. Every other girl had great cleavage. I was the girl dressed like a nun."
"You're shitting me. Mom did that?"
"Mom had hers done. Right after she weaned you, she told me all about it."
"But how did I not notice? I mean, I was right here."
"That summer was pretty busy. I was in-and-out overnight, and recup'd in bed. You prolly thought I had the flu or something. I was a little too busy recuperating to do an anatomy lesson for my gay baby brother.
"Becky..."
"I'm back to Becca now."
"Becca, whatever, so, none of this is genetic for us?"
"Nope. None, unless you want to gain a shit-load of weight."
"Well, fuck. Isn't this week turning out to be perfect shit."
"Don't say fuck. I miss college already."
Just then Mom came back in with a fresh cup of tea and Becky (Becca now) and I shut up and looked forward into the tunnel of solitude that was ahead of us. No sex (for either of us, as I gathered), no hormonal boobies for me, no places to wear cute clothes, the probable death of my new modeling career, and, yes, I'm still in the first year of my transition. This sucked, and not in a good way, and it was only Monday.
By Tuesday, Becca was in full hermit mode. I'm not sure she'd bathed since leaving her dorm, and she certainly hadn't done anything with her hair. The sisterwives all figured out how to get zoom working (except for Maddie, who eventually got coached into hitting the right buttons), and we were on-line with each other almost continuously, along with various pet dogs, cats, and in one case a very large bird (macaw?). I also zoomed Carlos, who was very cautious with what he said even though he was in his bedroom with the door shut. It was obvious, though, that his parents and great grandfather were roaming the house and he had only scant privacy.
It was fun to see what everyone was wearing in our new hermitage. Brie and I were actually up and dressed, me because Mom was a drill sergeant and Brie, I'm guessing, because she wanted to look good for Randi. I could kinda tell from Randi that she didn't give a shit, but who knows -- I know absolutely nothing about early-stage lesbians. Everyone else was in various stages of robes, jammies, and sweats. I hate to say we're all boy-crazy (cept, of course, for Brie and Randi) but yeah, the topic of boys (or lack thereof) really dominated the conversation. I knew I wasn't the only girl in the gang who'd been up close and personal with a boy's cock, but I wasn't sure who among us had already given up her V card, and this wasn't the best forum for figuring that out. Nonetheless, everyone in the room (again, cept for our two wanna-be muff-divers) were decrying the lack of testosterone in the air.
Later in the week, Brie and I were zooming just together, and complaining and bitching about stuff, and then I told her, "I got some bad news this week. I mean, OK, not THAT bad, not like people dying around us and shit, but not what I wanted to hear."
"What, sister-Christy? Now you've got my attention. What???"
"It's boobie problems again."
"Is THAT all you think about? Your boobies?"
"No. I think about Carlos's cock a lot, but you're probably not interested in that, right?"
"Good call. Now, what about your boobies?"
"You promise not to tell anyone. This is secret, right?"
"You're on. Now spill."
"You know how I've been counting on this old adage for girls who start transitioning in their teens, we can look at our mothers and sisters and guess that with hormones alone we should end up about a cup size smaller, right?"
"It's not like it's at the top of my memory banks, Christy, but yeah, maybe you said something like that."
"So, I've been looking at my mom, who's got a full D cup rack, and Becca, who's overflowing with a C cup, and figuring that MAYBE with hormones I'm headed for at least a very full B cup, right?
"OK, if you say so."
"So, guess what? BOTH my mother AND my sister have had boob jobs!"
"Shut the fuck up. When??? How did you miss that?"
"Yeah, turns out Mom had hers after I'd finished nursing, so what, like 12 or 13 years ago. Becca had hers the summer before she left for college, as a graduation present from Mom. I didn't notice she was recuperating cuz I was, well, caught up in my own negative energy at the time."
"So how big were they before they bought the bolt-ons?"
"Dunno about Mom. Becca said she was a floppy B."
"So, what you're telling me, sister, is that you're stuck with what God and modern chemistry is giving you until you turn 18, is that it?"
"Yep..."
Brie started laughing. "Well, welcome to the sisterhood, Christy. We're all stuck that way. Some are blessed and some are not."
"Look, I've already got the bad plumbing problem, so MAYBE the fates might have looked favorably on how my swimsuit tops fit, ya know?"
The rest of the conversation went kinda like that. Every day I was on zoom with the sisters, and every night on either zoom or the phone with Carlos. Becca was doing something like the same with who-knows-who. Mom was kinda chilled, with daily calls with her clients and a couple of hours free every day not having to run me to school and back or therapists.
The rest of the week went kinda like that. Friday turned into the weekend with no difference other than what was on TV.
I knew it was too early to get any reaction from the change in meds, but a girl can hope, right? Ten times a day I was peeking at my boobies wondering if I'd see any more changes. Then, this morning, I woke up with a strange, and yes refreshing tingling under my nipples. Maybe the fates WERE going to be good to me after all!