Synopsis: This is a complete story about a 13 year old boy
named Tony who becomes Toni and the relationship he has with his family. It’s
rated ‘G’ – no sex. It does contain smoking (of course). I hope to write a
sequel to this story called “Tony’s Friends”.
Tony’s Family
By slimv
I can still
remember the looks on both my parent’s faces when they came home early from
celebrating their anniversary and found me on the couch, dressed in my mother’s
nightgown. I hadn’t expected them back for at least another couple hours. My
little brother had spent the night at his friend’s. I’d been planning that
night for more than a week, but I hadn’t planned on my mother getting sick and
my parents coming home early. But there they were, standing in front of me. And
there I sat, lipstick and blush, smeared across my face, nowhere to run-
nowhere to hide.
Before that
summer, I had been like most boys my age, playing football, throwing rocks at
birds, chasing after girls. I’d always been a good student. I was active in
our church. I was my parent’s pride and joy. My little brother looked up to
me. The neighbors adored me. Everyone thought of me as the perfect
All-American boy, the kind of boy every parent wanted for a son. So what had
gone wrong?
The truth of the
matter was that nothing in my life had gone wrong. I’d just gotten careless or
unlucky. I’d been dressing in my mother’s clothes since the age of eight. But
that night in the living room was the first time I’d been caught.
I wasn’t a
sissy by any stretch of the imagination, and if you’d called me one I would
have popped you in the nose. I was a just a normal boy who enjoyed dressing in
his mother’s clothes and parading through the house, acting like a girl.
What’s normal about that? Nothing! I wasn’t proud of it. I was ashamed,
which is why I’d always gone to such great lengths to hide it. I had tried to
stop at least a million times, but I could never stop for long. I finally
convinced myself that I wasn’t hurting anyone so long as no one ever found out,
but they had found out. I’d been caught.
I sat on the
couch bawling, refusing to answer my parent’s questions. Explaining myself
would’ve only made things worse. Summer had just started. My situation was
embarrassing enough, but if I said the wrong thing, I could very well wind up
spending my entire vacation locked in my room.
“I can’t deal
with this right now,” said my mother. “We’ll talk about it in the morning,
before your brother gets home.”
My brother!
What would Randy say if he found out? Surely my parents wouldn’t tell him. I
was his big brother and he practically worshipped me. My parents turned their
backs on me in disgust, leaving me to wallow in my self-inflicted misery. I
prayed that no one would ever find out about that night. Please God, let this
stay between my parents and me.
I removed my
mother’s nightgown and tossed it in the clothes hamper and scrubbed the make-up
off my face before climbing into bed to stare at the ceiling. I was too afraid
to sleep. I wished my parents had ended it by announcing my punishement. That
would have been better than worrying about it. I didn’t sleep a wink that
night.
******
When I came
downstairs the next morning, I found my parents sitting in the kitchen. They
were drinking coffee and my mom was smoking a cigarette. I was greeted with
silence. Judgment day had arrived.
“Have a seat,”
said my father. “We need to talk about last night.”
I took a seat
at the table and crossed my hands over my lap.
“I know last
night wasn’t the first time you wore my clothes,” said my mother. “It’s
happened before. I never said anything to you and I didn’t tell your father
until last night. I thought it was a phase, something you’d grow out of. I
didn’t want to worry him and I didn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s not a
phase and from what I’ve read, you’re not going to grow out of it. You are
what you are and we’ll deal with it. You’re father and I still love you, but
we can’t allow you to sneak around and do what you’re doing. It isn’t right.
Getting into my clothes and make-up is an invasion of my privacy and I won’t
allow it anymore. That nightgown you took, the one you threw in the hamper the
last night; I don’t want it anymore. It’s yours. I’m giving it to you.”
“But Mom! I
don’t want it. I’ll never do it again. You have to believe me,” I pleaded.
“Shut-up and
listen to your mother,” said my father sternly.
My mother
reached under the table and removed the nightgown that had been on her lap and
laid it on the table. “From now on,” she said, “you will not take anything of
mine without asking. If there is something of mine you like, you may ask to
borrow it and I’ll think about it. I would prefer that you had your own things
and left mine alone. So if there is anything you want, just ask me, and I’ll
buy it for you.”
I started to
argue with her. The things she was saying were scaring me. I had come to the
kitchen expecting to be punished. I didn’t want her support. Support meant
being exposed and that was the last thing I wanted. My dad cut me short.
“Under the
present set of circumstances, your mother and I feel it would be for the best
if you moved out of your bedroom and let Randy have it for himself.
“We were
thinking you could move into the basement,” said my mother.
“Your sewing
room,” I asked?
“It needs some
fixing up,” she said. “But there’s a bed down there and it will give you more
privacy to do the things you need to do without exposing Randy to it. A lot of
my old clothes are down there too. I don’t wear them anymore so you’re welcome
to anything you like. Of course I know they’re not in style, but I can buy you
some clothes of your own later.”
A part of me
wanted to scream no. Another part of me was excited beyond description. My
parents were giving me permission to be a girl in private.
“I’ll help move
you in while your father picks up Randy.”
*****
My mother and I
moved things from the bedroom I shared with Randy down to the basement without
talking. The silence was uncomfortable. I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t
necessary but I couldn’t.
“The door has a
lock on it and I want you to use it while you’re doing whatever it is you do
when you wear my clothes. I don’t want Randy seeing you.”
I nodded
shamefully as I helped her hang some clothes in the closets that made up the
walls. The sewing room had served as both an attic for my mother’s discarded
clothes and a guestroom for visitors, as well as for its intended purpose.
“Look what I
found,” she said as she pulled a box from one of closet shelves. “These
belonged to your grandmother,” she said as she pulled out a pair of rubber
breasts. She explained to me that they were called breast forms and my
grandmother had used them after her surgery for breast cancer. “You can have
them if you like,” she said as she laid the box on the bed. “Your grandmother
always said that wearing them felt like the real thing, and I guess she would
have known. Can you think of anything else you need? We can go to the store
later if you do.”
I shook my head
no. The last thing I wanted to do was continue my shame by going to the store
with my mom to buy girly things.
“Let me know if
you change your mind.” She kissed me on the cheek and took a step back. “I
know you’re embarrassed. We all are. But we’ll get used to it in time, and
someday it won’t seem like such a big deal. I understand honey. I really do.
I’ve read a lot about cross dressers.”
“What’s that,”
I asked?
“Cross dressers
are men that enjoy dressing up as women from time to time. They can’t help it
sweetie. They’re addicted to it, the way I’m addicted to cigarettes. It’s not
your fault. You were born this way. I was thinking that maybe we could talk
to a doctor about it. I’ll make an appointment for you first thing Monday
morning. I think it would be for the best to get a handle on this before
school starts. Don’t you think?”
I didn’t know
what to think, so I just nodded and gave her a hug. “Thanks for not being
mad,” I said.
******
The rest of the
day went as well as could be expected. My parents told Randy that I had moved
into the basement and he was getting a room to himself. The thought of
sleeping alone in the room bothered him at first, but my parents convinced him
that it was an opportunity for him to show them what a big boy he’d become.
My dad shot me
some strange looks, or maybe I was paranoid, but I found it hard to look at him
that day and for the most of the following week. Mom on the other hand was
exceptionally nice. Randy was his self, oblivious to everything going on
between our parents and me.
Before going to
be, Mom asked me to go to her room with her. I was thinking she was going to
give me a lecture, but I was wrong. It turned out she just wanted to give me
some things she wasn’t using any more. While I sat on the end of her bed and
watched, my mother rummaged through her dressers for old panties. She laid
them on the bed and went to her closet.
“These shoes
should fit you,” she said as she picked up a pair of sandals from the closet
floor. “And this purse too,” she said as she unhooked it from a hanger.
Was I supposed
to thank her? I didn’t know, but I did. I picked up the purse, the sandals,
and the panties and carried them down the stairs past my father, who shook his
head in disappointment as I walked by. I was the furthest thing from proud as
I entered my room with my mother’s hand-me-downs.
I sighed as I
spotted the nightgown that had started it all. It sat folded neatly on my bed,
waiting for me. A blonde wig lay beside it. I recognized it as being from a
costume my mother had worn at Halloween party. I’d been searching for that wig
off and on for the last two years. A lot of good it was doing me at the moment
though. Dressing up was the furthest thing from my mind. All I wanted to do
was go back in time and make it so that none of this had ever happened.
I picked up the
nightgown and put it in my dresser drawer, under my tee-shirts. I didn’t want
Randy finding it, not that he’d have a reason to go through my dresser. But
supposedly I hadn’t had a reason to go through my mother’s dresser either.
Thinking about it made me cringe. What kind of a mess had I gotten myself
into? Why were they being so nice and understanding? This is too good to be
true, I thought as I looked around the room. Maybe it’s some kind of trap and
they’re waiting to see what I do. If I don’t do anything, maybe they’ll forget
about it and everything will go back to normal. But if I keep dressing and
they find out, then maybe things will get worse. Maybe that’s when the real trouble
will start. But still, it would be kind of cool if all this was for real and
it wasn’t a trap.
I picked up the
wig and ran my hand against the blond flaxen strands as if I were petting a
longhaired cat. No harm in putting it on, I thought. If Mom and Dad are
waiting outside the door to catch me, I can always take it off. It won’t be
like last night. I checked the door to make sure it was locked.
Not bad, I
thought as I looked in the mirror. My hair grew fast and it had been months
since my last haircut, but it would take close to year for it to grow as long
as the wig. I took it off and put it on my closet shelf and turned my
attention to the purse.
It was really
nice and I wondered why my mother didn’t use it any more. I picked it up and
noticed how heavy it was. I wondered why she hadn’t emptied it when she
changed purses. My curiosity was peaked so I dumped the contents of the purse
out onto the bed. Pretty cool, I thought as I rummaged through the stuff. I
found two Bic lighters, a half a pack of Benson & Hedges Menthols, a
compact and a wallet with money still in it.
I picked up the
pack of cigarettes and studied it. I’d never smoked in my life but had always
wondered what it was like. Being an athlete, I had never seriously considered
it. And I’d grown up hearing my parents preach the dangers and evils of
smoking.
Once, when I
was younger, I remember asking my mom why she smoked. She laughed and said she
did it to stay sane. She said I’d smoke too if I were a woman.
“Your father is
the one that goes to work and earns the money, but my job never ends,” she
said. “I’m a wife and a mommy 24 hours a day. I love it, but I need the
cigarettes to get me through my day”. She winked at me. “Besides that, your
father thinks I’m sexy when I smoke.”
I was kind of
young, so the things she said went over my head. But as I stared at the pack
of cigarettes in my hand, the memories of that day began to make sense. Being
a woman isn’t as easy it looks, I mused, and I ought to know.
I know what
you’re thinking. I should have thrown away the pack of cigarettes or at least
put them back in my purse and forgotten about them. But I didn’t do that. I
understood that my mom smoked to ease her stress. So if it worked for her,
then maybe it would work for me. I was definitely stressed over everything
that was happening.
I remembered my
mother often smoked when she sewed and it didn’t take long to find the ashtray
sitting on the sewing machine. I got up off the bed and sat down at the sewing
machine with my mother’s cigarettes and lighter. I didn’t weigh the
consequences of my actions. I just lit up.
It was awful at
first. Anyone who claims his or her first puff of smoke was like heaven is
feeding you a line. It made me cough and hack. The mentholated smoke made my
lungs feel simultaneously burned and frozen. My determination to finish the
cigarette was fed by a nicotine buzz and my strong desire to feel better. What
can I say? It worked. I put out the cigarette and slept like a baby that night.
*****
I woke up kind of
late the next morning. I wasn’t looking forward to leaving my room. The
thought of things that awaited me made me nervous, so I eased my stress with a
cigarette. Afterwards, I threw on some jeans and tee-shirt before going
upstairs. My mom was in the living room watching the Today show. We said good
morning and I kept my distance so she wouldn’t smell the smoke in hair. She
said that dad had gone to work and Randy was still sleeping.
“So how did you like
your new room,” she asked? “Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Pretty good, I guess.”
“Did you find the
gown and purse? I left them on your bed.”
Once again, I wasn’t
sure if I should thank her or just acknowledge that I had found the wig and
gown. “I did, but its not like I really need or want them. I don’t need any
of the stuff you gave me. I’m okay, really, I am. I’m a regular boy, you
know. I just made a mistake and I’ll never do it again.”
“Maybe you will.
Maybe you won’t. Maybe you can’t help your self. That’s why I made an
appointment for you to see a doctor. His name is Dr. Richt. He specializes in
adolescent sexual issues. It just so happens that he has a cancellation today
and he can see you.”
“And if he says I’m
okay and it was just a mistake, then we can forget about all this,” I asked?
“Absolutely,” said
my mother.
“What about Randy?
Is he going with us?”
“No. I called
Zach’s mom and he’s going to stay with her while we’re gone.”
*****
My mom and I arrived
for my appointment fifteen minutes early, which gave us time to fill out the
paperwork. She filled out the easy stuff, like my name and address, and social
security number. I watched as she whizzed through the section on the diseases
I never had. She knew exactly what medications I had and hadn’t taken. She
paused when she got to the part about tobacco use. The question read, “Does
the patient smoke cigarettes?” My heartbeat raced. She started to mark the
‘no’ box but stopped short. I felt a lump rise in my throat. Oh my God, she
knows, I thought.
“Is today the
16th or 17th,” she asked?
“The 16th,”
I said with some hesitation.
“That’s right,”
she said as she filled in the date at the top of the page. Immediately
afterwards, she checked the ‘No’ box for smoker and flipped the page. I
breathed an audible sigh of relief.
Things got
trickier from that point on. There was one section where we were supposed to
describe the reason for the appointment. I watched as my mother wrote a few
sentences about my dressing in her clothes.
I was
embarrassed and asked if she would erase that part. She looked at me as if I
were crazy and went on to the next section about relationships. I cringed when
she marked the box called “Uncertain” next to sexual orientation.
After
completing the patient interview, she got up and returned the clipboard to the
receptionist who told us to walk through the door. I followed my mom and the
receptionist down a hallway. She led us into a rather plush office and told us
to have a seat in the chairs positioned in front of the desk. She placed the
clipboard with my file on the desk and told us Dr. Richt would be with us in a
minute or two. She left the room as a tall man in his early fifties walked in
with his hand extended. He and my mother shook hands first. I gave him my
best manly grip as he took my small hand in his. He sat down behind his desk
and asked us to sit down. He picked up my chart and thumbed through it before
laying it back down on his desk.
“You’re
blushing,” he said. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. I meet at least five
boys like you every day. It says in your chart that you’re thirteen and you’re
parents came home and found you wearing your mother’s nightgown and her
make-up. You’re mother also wrote that it isn’t the first time you’ve been
curious about her things.”
So began the
most embarrassing interview of my life. I actually thought I could talk my way
out of it, but Dr. Richt had met a lot of boys who had tried to talk their way
out of it. He was a professional and he was good at his job. He asked me
questions that caught me off guard and made me think. He observed the
expressions on my face as well as my words. He kept my mother in the loop and
asked her to confirm or deny my statements. We talked for two hours. There
was a moment or two when I thought I might have won. Perhaps I would walk out
of his office with my manliness intact. Maybe he’d tell my mother that it was
all a mistake and that I was a normal boy who had just made some bad
decisions. All those thoughts and wishes came to an end when he asked if I had
a female name picked out for myself.
I shook my head
no and my mother answered for me.
“His father and
I were thinking about still calling him Tony, but spelling it with an ‘I’
instead of a ‘Y’ at the end.
“I think that’s
a good idea,” said Dr. Richt. “It will keep things less confusing.”
Dr. Richt noted
my nervousness and tried to put me at ease by saying things like it wasn’t my
fault and no one was angry. He told me that my parents loved me and I was
luckier than most boys who visited him, because my parents were supportive.
I nodded as he
spoke.
He explained
that every male has both a masculine and a feminine side and that my feminine
side was strong and that it would be a mistake to ignore or suppress it.
He
congratulated my mother for everything she and my dad had done so far; saying
most of his patient’s parents were not as supportive or foresighted.
We talked about
my little brother, my friends, our neighbors, my school, and our extended
family. He said that I would develop a stronger sense of self-esteem if I were
allowed to express my feminine side to the people in my life.
The idea of
people I know seeing me dressed as a girl scared me to death but Dr. Richt
tried to assure me that most of the fear was in my mind and most people would
be supportive once they learned the truth.
“The truth
about what,” I asked?
“The truth
about which side of your personality, the feminine or the masculine, is
strongest,” said Dr. Richt.
“No one can
make me dress like a girl if I don’t want,” I said firmly.
“You’re
absolutely right Toni,” said Dr. Richt. “No one can make you dress like a girl
if you don’t want to dress like a girl. But here’s the rub. You do want to
dress like a girl. You’ve felt this way all your life and you will continue
feeling this way for the rest of your life. If you don’t give into it, it will
consume you. It will ruin your life unless you come to terms with it. It
might not happen next week, but it will happen, and when it does, not only will
it destroy you, but it will destroy those closest to you.”
“Think about it
Toni,” said Dr. Richt. What’s going to happen 10 years from now when you get
married to a nice woman and have a kid with her? You’re not going to tell her
but she’s going to find out, and when she does, a lot of people are going to
get hurt.”
“Hiding your
needs isn’t going to help you or anyone else in the long run,” said Dr. Richt.
“I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking you’re secret is the worst thing
in the world, but I’m here to tell you its not. But keeping your secret is the
worst thing. This is something you need to be open about- with your family,
with your friends, and with strangers you meet.”
I was shocked.
I was sitting there listening to every word the doctor said and I was asking
myself how he could say such things? How can he sit there and ask me to out
myself in front of everyone I know?
“I think Dr.
Richt is right,” said my mother. “If you’re going to do this, then I don’t
want you hiding it any more.”
“Fine. Then I
won’t do it anymore,” I said boldly.
“He’ll do it
again and again,” said Dr. Rich to my mother. “He can’t help it. It’s in his
nature.”
Dr. Richt
focused on me and said, “I know this is traumatic for you and I’m not
suggesting you start living your life as a girl today. I think you should ease
into it. Take advantage of the room your parents gave you and dress
appropriately when you’re in it. Ask your mother to buy you some magazines
like “Seventeen” and “Glamour”. Watch a few of those movies that women refer
to as ‘chick flicks’. Talk to your mom about the topics daughters discuss with
their mothers. Maybe you could ask her for make-up tips and advice about
boys. It’s important that you develop a strong infrastructure for your
feminine side. So Toni, I’m not saying you have to do everything today, but it
would be in your best interest to make a start. And your mother needs to give
you a push if she sees you’re dragging your feet. Sometimes the best way to
learn how to swim is to jump in the water.”
“Is Toni gay,
Dr. Richt,” asked my mother?
“Are you asking
if Toni is sexually attracted to boys, or are you asking if he is gay?”
“I’m confused.
It’s the same thing. Isn’t it?”
“Not
necessarily,” said Dr. Richt. “I don’t know Toni well enough to put a label on
his sexual orientation. The only thing I can say with certainty is that Toni
is life-long cross dresser and he has a very strong feminine side. Dressing
like a girl or even becoming a girl in the physical sense will have no effect
on his sexual orientation. However, I will tell you that the majority of my
patients who go on to live their lives as women full time, date and marry men.”
I sat
motionless while my mother spoke up.
“Should he
alternate between dressing as a girl and a boy, or do you want him to dress
exclusively feminine?”
“He can have a
week or so to adjust, but then I want him to dress as a girl for the rest of
the summer. I can’t stress how important is for Toni to make a public
statement in regard to his femininity. In other words, he needs to face his
family and friends as a girl. Once school starts, he can resume dressing as a
boy if he wants, but it would be in his best interest to mix it up a bit.”
“And what if he
decides he likes being a girl,” asked my mother?
“Then he should
be one,” said Dr. Richt as he scribbled on a tablet of paper. But it has to be
his decision. I’m writing Toni a prescription for female hormones. Even
though Toni has a feminine side, he has a male body that will continue to grow
more masculine if we don’t retard the male testosterone being produced by his
body.
“Hormones,”
asked my mother? “Aren’t they dangerous? What if we find out Toni is happier
as a boy? Will the hormones hurt him?”
“They won’t
hurt him, as in make him ill. But with continued use or an increased dosage,
they will permanently feminize his body. He’ll develop breasts. His hair will
grow faster. His hips will widen. His skin will soften. He’ll notice a
reduction in facial hair. And it will prevent his voice from deepening.”
“I’m
prescribing a dose of one pill a day. That is the maximum dose he can take for
a period of three months without permanently damaging his male body. I’m not
suggesting he should take the pills at all, but I want him to have them
available at his disposal, so he can make up his own mind. If he does decide
to take them, it is imperative that he quit taking them after three months if
he wants to terminate the feminization. Of course that doesn’t mean he should
stop cross-dressing. The cross-dressing will be a life long issue for him.”
“What would
happen if he accidentally took two pills in the same day Dr. Richt,” asked my
mother?
“Nothing. But
if he were to purposely take two pills a day for say a month or so, it would speed
up his feminization and the effects would be permanent.”
Dr. Richt asked
if either of us had any more questions as he handed the prescription to my
mother. We didn’t, so he wished us luck and told us we could pay the
receptionist on the way out.
*****
We left Dr. Richt’s
office and got in the car to go home. Mom lit a cigarette and put the pack on
the console between us. I could have killed for a cigarette after the doctor
visit, but I did my best to ignore the pack.
On the way home, my
mother turned into a strip mall parking lot. I asked her why we were
stopping. She said the nail salon did piercing and that it would be a good
idea to get my ears done. I argued that I didn’t think it was a good idea.
She reminded me of what the doctor said and softened it by telling me that lots
of boys get their ears pierced and that I’d just be getting a unisex starter
set. She said no one would even notice and if they did they would think I was
cool for getting my ears pierced.
Her logic made
sense. An hour or so later, I was on my way back home with two new holes in my
head and a vial of pills in my pocket.
The rest of the day
was pretty calm and went as expected. Randy went bonkers over my earrings and
asked if he could get his ears pierced too. My parents told him they’d think
about when he got a little older.
Later that night,
after Randy went to bed, I kissed my parents good night and went downstairs to
my room and locked the door. I undressed and took my mother’s nightgown out of
my dresser and pulled it over my head and felt the silk fall to my feet. All
the while, I kept telling myself that it was okay and I wasn’t doing anything
wrong. My parents told me I could do it. Dr. Richt as much as said that I had
to do it. Regardless of the rationale behind my argument, I still felt guilty
as I took the blond wig from the closet and draped it over my head. I thought
about using the breast forms, but decided against it, not knowing how to really
put them on. The gown and wig were good enough for the moment, I thought as I
looked at myself in the mirror.
Honestly
speaking, I would have looked better with make-up and breasts. But the wig did
a lot for me and I looked very much like a girl. I liked what I saw and my
penis liked the way I felt. It grew large against my gown and jutted out like
a stick, ruining the illusion, but I didn’t care. I was very happy and very
excited. As I looked in the mirror, I could see my mother’s purse sitting on
the nightstand. That reminded me that it was time for a cigarette.
Up until then,
smoking had been something I’d done to ease the stress of my situation. I’d
always made a conscious decision to smoke, but this time I felt compelled to do
it. I thought about that as I lit up and wondered if I maybe I was getting
addicted to them like my mother. The idea of being addicted to cigarettes at
such a young age scared me. I wasn’t scared because of the health issues. I
was scared because my mom and dad would skin me alive if they ever found out.
Thankfully, I had just lit the last cigarette in the pack. It was over and
done after this last one I reasoned. Ahh, but it did feel good, didn’t it?
I caught a
glimpse of my satisfied expression in the mirror as I exhaled. Keep in mind
that I was only 13. I was a just a kid playing around in his mother’s
clothes. I wore them because they made me feel feminine. I smoked the
cigarettes because they eased the pain and fear of getting seen in the
clothes. But this was different. It felt different and it looked different.
I studied my reflection in the mirror as I struck a feminine pose with my
cigarette. I didn’t see a boy in his mother’s clothes. I saw a woman- a woman
like my mother, enjoying her cigarette. I felt so grown up and feminine. I
took another puff and inhaled my mentholated epiphany.
I was still
scared of what the future held for me. I didn’t know if I was gay or
straight. I was afraid of what my friends would say when they found out. I
didn’t want my brother to know. But eventually everyone would know. And when
they did know, I would be free. I finished my cigarette and crumpled up the
empty pack. I knew I’d need more, but that would have to wait until tomorrow.
I took off the
wig and put it in the closet and pulled back the sheets of my bed. I opened
the vial of hormones and swallowed two pills. Of course I’d have to take two
pills a day for a whole month before I passed the point of no return, but that
moment was symbolic for me. It was my way of telling myself that I was going
to do it. I was going to be a girl.
*****
The next couple
weeks were uneventful, except for the fact that I made the most out of them
while dressed as a boy. That meant playing football with my friends and
talking about girls. It crossed my mind to tell them what I was doing in my
bedroom. Hey guys! Guess what? I’m going to be a girl! Of course I didn’t
say anything remotely like that. But thinking about it made me realize just
how hard it would be. They did notice my starter earrings though, but they didn’t
think anything “sissy” about them. I wondered what they would say if they knew
the truth. They were pretty nice guys, but still, they’d have to think it was
pretty weird. Hell, I thought it was weird and I was the one living it! So
how could I expect them to understand when I didn’t understand it myself? I
guess that’s what Dr. Richt meant when he suggested easing into the transition
and adjusting to it. I’d taken two pills a day ever since that night in my
bedroom. It wouldn’t be long before I’d need a refill. Mom would know then.
She’d know and that would be okay. And then everyone would know because I
wouldn’t be able to hide it. And that would be okay too. That would be good.
Thinking about my
friends seeing me dressed as a girl stressed me out so much that sometimes I’d
just tell them I was going home to use the bathroom. I did use the bathroom,
but I also smoked a cigarette in my room with the door locked. I didn’t know
why, but smoking seemed to relax me as well as excite me, especially when I was
dressed.
******
Four weeks had
passed since my visit with Dr. Richt. Doubling the dose had depleted my
pills. If I wanted to do this, I’d have to tell my mom about the pills and ask
her to get me some more. She’d never even seen me dressed, except for that
time in the kitchen. I knew she supported me but she didn’t know what she was
supporting. She and Dad had given me space. They had no idea what I was doing
in the basement. They didn’t know what I was thinking.
I remember waking up
on a Tuesday morning and finding one pill left in the vial. I swallowed it and
smoked a cigarette to charge my nerves. I put on a pair of jeans and a
tee-shirt, shoved the empty vial in my pocket, and went upstairs.
Mom was sitting at
the table drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. The cigarette smelled
good. She looked at me and said good morning, but instead of looking back to
her coffee, she kept her eyes fixed on me. It made me self-conscious. I knew
I had pillow hair and I figured she was staring at it. Dr. Richt said my hair
would grow faster with the hormones and it had. I pushed the hair out of my
eyes and told her I knew I needed a shower.
“It’s not your
hair,” said my mother. “Its your chest. I can see your nipples through your tee-shirt.
Oh my God honey! You need a bra.”
“Really,” I
squeaked? “I do?”
“The pills? How
many have you been taking?”
I pulled the empty
vial from my pocket and placed it on the table. “Two a day.”
Mom shook her head
and blinked. “Oh honey. I don’t know what to say. Sit down. We need to talk
about this.”
I took a seat beside
my mother and we talked about what I’d done and what it meant. It took a
little effort on my part, but I eventually succeeded in convincing her that it
hadn’t been an accident and I’d taken two pills a day on purpose.
“So this is what you
want,” asked my mother? “You’re sure?”
“I think so.”
“Uh-uh Baby! ‘I
think so’ isn’t good enough. This is one of the most import decisions of your
life. You have to be sure.”
“That’s not what I
mean. I am sure. I’m just scared.”
“Scared of being a
girl or scared of what people will say when they find out?”
My lips trembled.
My eyes watered. I felt a lump rise in my throat as I shook my head. “What am
I going to do Mom?”
I lost it and she
put her arm around me and ran her fingers my hair. She said it would be okay.
I told her
about my friends and how I tried to tell them but couldn’t. I told her about
Randy and how I was afraid he’d hate me when he found out.
“He’s your brother
and he loves you,” said my mother. “Randy could never hate you.”
“What about
Dad?”
“Your father
and I have always known this was a possibility, but we had to let you tell us
your self and you have. He’ll be okay with it. I promise. Your father loves
you. We all love you.”
“So what do we
do now,” I asked?
“Well for
starters, I’d say we better buy you a bra and get your prescription refilled.”
I wiped my
tears and nodded yes. “What about Randy? How are we going to tell him?”
“I guess we
could get you all dressed up and introduce you to him as his new sister.”
I shook my head
no. “I don’t want to spring it on him like that. Dr. Richt said we should do
it kind of slow.”
“You’re right.
I know! We can take him shopping with us. He needs some new clothes for
school anyway and so do you.”
“You mean like
dresses and skirts and things like that?”
My mom kissed
me on the cheek. “That’s exactly what I mean Princess. When school starts in
the fall, you’ll be the best-dressed girl in your class, and the prettiest
too. All the boys will be fighting over you!”
Hearing my
mother talk like that overloaded my brain and sent the blood rushing to my
face. I had just gotten to the point where I could think of things like
dressing in public. Hearing my mother say the words was mind blowing! We were
going shopping. Randy was going with us. He’d see. He’d know. That was bad
enough, but it was what she said about boys fighting over me that sent me into
panic mode.
Mom immediately
noticed the change in my expression and made the connection. “I’m sorry,” she
said. “Did that embarrass you about what I said about the boys?”
I semi-shrugged
and nodded. “Yeah, it kind of did.”
“You’re
thirteen,” said my mother. “That’s about the age when boys start noticing girls
and girls start noticing boys. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s a
very normal feeling. As a matter of fact, I’d think it was strange if you
didn’t have feelings like that.”
“But why did
you say it like you did? You know. Like the boys are going to like me and I’m
going to like them.”
“I’m sorry if I
hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to suggest you’re gay but its okay if you
are. You’re father and I love you unconditionally. We just want what’s best
for you. We want you to be happy. So do you like girls?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you like
boys?”
“No. At least
not the way you’re talking about.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I
am!”
“Okay,” said my
mother, as she threw up her hands in gesture of surrender. “That’s fine with
your father and I. We hope you meet a nice girl someday and the two of you
settle down and have a family. But don’t you think it might be difficult to
find a nice girl that wants to marry a nice girl like you?”
Her rationale
hit me like a ton of brick and I began to see her point. “I want to be a girl
but I don’t want to be a fag and date guys?”
“Okay,” said my
mom, “then be a girl, and date a girl, and just pretend to be a lesbian. The
world is a big place. I’m sure you’ll find a girl that will love and accept
you just as you are. I’m just saying she’ll be hard to find and you might not
ever find her.”
“So what am I
supposed to do?”
“Try keeping an
open mind,” said my mother. “Love is where you find it honey. It doesn’t
matter who you love as long as that person is your best friend in the world.
Your father is my best friend.”
“My best friend
is Bill Dickerson. I can’t marry him!”
My mother
nodded calmly. “Okay, lets use Bill as an example. Why can’t a boy like you
grow up to marry a boy like Bill Dickerson?”
“For starters,
he’s a boy and I’m a boy. That’s a good reason.”
“That’s not a
good enough reason,” said my mom. “Men fall in love with other men all the
time, and believe it or not, it actually makes sense. Men have so much in
common with each other. Think about it. You both love sports. Most women get
irritated when their husbands run off and leave them to play a game or watch a
game, but you’d understand, because you’ve been there and done that and enjoyed
it. And think about the sex! When it comes to sex, most men are clueless as
to what makes a woman feel good, but it wouldn’t be that way for you and Bill.
You have a penis so you know what feels good to you. You’d be able to use your
experiences to make Bill feel good and vice versa.”
I didn’t like
what she was saying, but I had to admit she made sense, but it still didn’t
mean it would work and I told her so. “Even if I wanted to be with Bill, I
couldn’t because Bill isn’t gay. He wouldn’t want to be with me.”
“Maybe. Maybe
not. But Bill Dickerson isn’t the point. The point is for you to keep an open
mind so you don’t miss out on the love of your life regardless of whether that
love is male or female. True love always finds a way sweetheart. And there is
something else you need to consider.”
“What’s that,”
I asked?
“You are a very
cute boy and you’re going to be a very cute girl. Whether you like it or not,
boys are going to notice you and they’re going to be attracted to you. You’re
going to have to learn to deal with their affection whether you want it or
not.”
Again she had a
point. “Okay, so I’ll ask the question again. What am I supposed to do?”
My mother put
her hands on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes. “It’s real simple Toni.
Enjoy being a girl and keep an open mind. That’s all you have to do.”
I took a deep
breath and exhaled away my anxiety. A cigarette would have helped more, but I
wasn’t ready to cross that bridge with my mom.
*****
I took a shower and
changed clothes before we went to the mall. I put on some jeans and chose a
loose fitting Polo shirt to conceal my budding femininity. I was feeling very
nervous about shopping in front of Randy, but the cigarette I smoked before
taking my shower had eased my angst a bit.
On our way to the
mall, we stopped by drugstore and refilled my prescription. Mom told Randy
that the pills were a special kind of vitamin and he was never to take them.
She told them they were only for me and he watched as I swallowed two pills in
the car. I didn’t know what to say when he asked if I was sick. Mom answered
for me and told him that I wasn’t sick but that my body was going through some
changes and the pills would help me. He seemed satisfied by her answer and we
talked about college football teams while Mom drove us to the mall.
Randy isn’t a
clothes hound, but he appreciates clothes more than most boys his age, as long
as the pants are Levis and they’re blue. The first store we stopped in was
Macys and we headed directly for the boy’s department. Randy stood straight
and patient as mom held Levis and Polos against his frame, measuring the fabric
against the length of his body before putting them in the cart. It took less
then twenty minutes to fit him for school, including the cotton briefs and
socks she bought him.
“What about Tony,”
asked my brother? “Aren’t you going to buy some clothes for him?”
“Of course I am,”
said my mother as she pushed the cart into the Junior Miss department.
“But all they got
here is clothes for girls,” argued Randy.
“I know that,” said
my mother. “But they will fit Toni better. You probably haven’t noticed, but
his body is starting to change. Don’t you see? His hips are getting wider and
you can’t see it because his shirt is loose, but his chest is getting bigger.”
Randy shot us both a
confused look, but he wasn’t arguing.
Mom picked up a pair
of low-rise designer jeans and held them up to my waist. They were jeans and
maybe from a distance they might be mistaken for unisex jeans but the tag said
Jolt, a name most girls in my school would recognize.
“I think these will
fit nicely,” said my mother, as she put them in the cart.
Randy didn’t notice,
but Mom slipped some Baby Phat skirts into the cart as well. The same thing
happened when Mom picked out a JLO skirt and Cami. I wondered if he thought our
mother was shopping for her self. But all bets were off when Mom picked up a
Ruby Rox baby doll dress and held it up for him to see. It was a full skirt
with spaghetti straps. Mom asked Randy what he thought of it and he said it
was pretty. She asked him if he thought it would look good on me and his eyes
widened.
“You’re getting that
for Tony?”
Mom looked at him as
if he’d said the silliest thing in the world. “Of course I am. Didn’t I just
tell you his body is changing? Toni can’t wear boy clothes any more. He’s
going to be dressing more like me from now on.”
“Really? You mean
he’s going to start dressing like a girl?”
“Yes he is, and I
don’t want you or your little friends making fun of him either. Or else you’ll
be wearing dresses too. Do you understand?”
I think the threat
about him having to wear girl clothes set him in his place and he nodded his
head. But he was still curious.
“Does this mean he’s
going to be like my sister instead of my brother,” he asked?
“Of course it does
Randy. Your brother is turning into a girl, that’s what his vitamins are for,
and that’s why you’re never to take them.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Does that mean he’s
going to be kissing boys and things like that?”
“It might,” said my
mother.
Randy blinked and I
swooned from the head rush. It was all out now. Randy knew. I could tell by
the look on his face that he wasn’t completely convinced our mother was telling
him the truth, but he was accepting it for the moment.
“Okay,” he said.
The rest of our trip
went smoothly. Mom and I dragged Randy through the mall as we shopped for me
at stores like Victoria’s Secret and Abercrombie. Mom was buying out the mall
and we’d need Randy’s extra hands to help carry our purchases to the car.
We spent all day at
the mall. Randy was ragged with exhaustion, and I was dying for a cigarette.
It was late by the time we got home so Randy went straight to bed. I on the
other hand had to stay up and talk to my father.
The conversation
went better than I expected. As it turned out, my parents had always wanted
both a son and a daughter. In an odd way, I was the answer to their prayers.
He hugged me and told me he loved me. Before I went to bed, my mom told me
that she wanted me to try on the clothes tomorrow so she could take the ones
back that didn’t fit. I hoped they all fit and told her so.
She told me that she
was glad I liked them and asked if I was up to going out in public dressed as a
girl. She reminded me that my hair was in need of styling and she’d like to get
my nails done.
I quivered with a
mixture of fear and excitement as I closed my eyes. “Ok,” I said.
She seemed genuinely
pleased with my willingness. She kissed me on the cheek and told me she was
proud of me before saying goodnight.
The first thing I
did when I got to my room was to lock the door and light a cigarette. I’d gone
almost seven hours without a smoke and it had been hard. I surveyed the
shopping bags in my room and went about the task of putting my new clothes
away, admiring them as I did.
******
I would have liked
to have a cigarette when I woke up, but Mom was standing over me with a sense
of impatience. She said I needed to take a bath and shave my legs and armpits
before she could help me get dressed.
My first time
shaving was a brutal experience. My knees were covered with nicks and my
armpits felt scorched from the razor burn. Mom said I’d get better at it with
practice and gave me some lotion to sooth the burn.
She told me that
she’d sent Randy out with my father, so we had the house to our self. I
appreciated that, because even though Randy knew, I didn’t want him nosing
around while I was still getting used to things.
I covered up my
penis with a pair of silk panties and let mom look at my bare chest. She said
I was starting to blossom and I wouldn’t need the breast forms.
“They’re already too
big to hide,” she said. “It’s a good thing we bought you a bra. By the looks
of things, you’ll need a bigger cup size when you start school.” She grinned
and shook her head. “The girls in your school are going to hate you.”
I didn’t understand,
until she explained that girls my age are as obsessed with breast size as much
as boys are. “They’ll be envious and jealous,” she said. “Big breasts are a
good thing,” she said as she helped me into the push-up bra that accentuated my
cleavage.
Mom gave me a pair
of hose and explained that even though I had shapely legs, it was always best
to wear hose when wearing a skirt or a dress. While I put on the hose, she
picked out the colorful Baby Doll dress from my closet and a slip to go beneath
it.
She complimented on
how the dress hugged my curves as she zipped it up from the back. If it wasn’t
for my unkempt hair and lack of make-up, I would have looked gorgeous, but as
it was, I looked good. I knew it and mom knew it too. She had me stand in the
light so she could put my make-up on.
She warned me to
stay still as she applied the eyeliner and told me that if I wanted to, I could
get my eyeliner permanently tattooed as she had done.
“A tattoo,” I asked.
She smiled and said
yes. “It’s convenient but its forever. We can do it today when we get your
hair done if you like. You can think about it and let me know when we get
there. It’s perfectly safe.”
“I guess a tattoo
would be pretty hard to hide if I changed my mind,” I said.
“Those will be hard
to hide too,” she said as she pointed at my breasts. “It’s a commitment.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Lets do it.”
“Are you sure?” she
asked as she rubbed some blush against my cheeks?
“Yeah. I am,” I
said with a note of self-doubt. “Its just that I’m really scared about this
Mom.”
“I know you are
honey. Your father and I are scared too. But its what you want isn’t it?”
“It is what I want.
I don’t know why I feel that way but I do.”
We talked about my
life as a boy and how I had felt about it. We talked about what I would be
giving up and what I expected to get in return. I had liked being a boy and we
both knew that. Sneaking around and playing dress up in her clothes had been
exciting and fun, but this was different. This wasn’t playing any more. This
was for real.
“I love this dress
mom. I love all the clothes you bought for me yesterday and I want more.”
“I know you do
Princess.”
“I want to wear them
all the time, not just when I’m in my room.”
“I understand that
Toni. I really do. You like feeling pretty and wearing pretty things. I do
too. But wanting to look and feel pretty is so much different than wanting to
be a woman.”
“I know that mom,
but I like it a lot, and if I do this then I can do it all the time. I’ll have
to. I won’t have a choice.”
“But being a woman
is so much more than wearing pretty clothes and make-up honey. I’m not saying
its bad because it isn’t. I love being a woman, but it isn’t easy and it will
be so much more difficult for you than it is for me,” she said as she lit a
cigarette. “Are you sure you still want to do this?”
“I am Mom. I want
to be a girl and be your daughter.”
“Oh Princess,” said
my mother as she hugged me. “Mommy loves you so much. We’re going to have so
much fun together. Let’s get going now. Don’t forget your purse,” she said as
she pointed toward the nightstand.
*****
I had a feeling by
the way my mother described it that our trip to the salon would take a lot of
time, but I had no idea it would take the entire day. The first thing we did
was to get my eyelids tattooed like hers. As far as I was concerned, there was
no going back after that. Even if I didn’t wear a dress, my friends would see
my eyes. They’d ask what it was and I’d have to tell them. If I made up a
lie, my growing breasts would betray me. I didn’t want to go back. I wanted
to go forward.
Our next stop was
the hair stylist. My hair hung well past my collar, but it was a mess. The
lady, that did my hair, trimmed away the split ends and styled it so that no
one would think I was a boy. She also shaped my eyebrows into a very feminine
arch.
I thought we were
done after the hair cut, but my mother insisted that I get my nails done. The
lady that cut my hair said that Marge did nails and she could take me right
away.
I’d never had a
manicure before and it felt awesome. And Marge didn’t stop at my hands. She
gave me a pedicure too. I walked out of the salon with a beautiful hairstyle
and long red talons.
“You look
fantastic,” said my mom as I nervously walked beside her with my purse thrown
over my shoulder.
“Thanks, but you’re
not just saying that, are you? Cause I still feel like a boy. What if someone
sees me?”
“Look around Toni. Everyone
sees you and they like what they see. You’re gorgeous. Even the older men are
staring at you. I’m not saying I like it, but I don’t blame them. If I hadn’t
given birth to you, I’d think you were at least eighteen years old. So don’t
be surprised if an older boy asks for your phone number today.”
“What should I do if
that happens?”
“That depends on
whether or not he’s cute,” she giggled. “I don’t know about you, but I’m
starving. What do you say the two of us ladies grab some lunch?”
Mom and I decided on
Ruby Tuesday’s. As we walked she gave me some pointers on my stride and gait.
She described the motion as fluid femininity and explained the proper way to
sway my hips when I walked. By the time we made it across the mall, I had the
swing of things, but realized I still needed practice. According to her, and
she wasn’t being mean, walking wasn’t the only subject I needed practice at.
She said I needed help with my mannerisms, the way I moved my hands when I
talked and how I crossed my legs when I sat. She said all these things and
more would come with practice and that I just needed to develop some
confidence. She thought it would help if I handled things at the restaurant by
talking to the hostess and ordering lunch for myself.
It doesn’t sound
like a big deal, but until that day, I had never tried to pass myself off as
female to anyone other than my self. The hostess was a young woman in her
early twenties. I took a deep breath and remained calm when she asked if we
were meeting other people. I told her it was just the two of us. She asked if
I preferred smoking or non. My mother thanked me for my consideration when I
answered ‘smoking’. The waitress led us to a table and gave us two menus. Mom
and I sat down and she immediately rifled through her purse looking for her
cigarettes. She found her pack, but it was empty.
“Darn,” she said as
she crumpled up the empty pack of Benson & Hedges. “I smoked the last one
back at the salon. I could have sworn I brought an extra pack.”
I thought about the
pack I’d stolen from her the day before. I still had five or six cigarettes
left. I considered telling her about them. I knew she’d appreciate it, and I
could always tell her they were in the purse when she gave it to me. But then
I’d lose them, and I’d have to steal another pack when we got home. I suddenly
felt selfish. I needed those cigarettes but so did my mother. How could I
even think of keeping them from her after all she’d done for me?
“That’s Okay,” I
said as I reached into my purse and removed the pack of Benson & Hedges and
a lighter.
My mother kind of
gasped. I couldn’t tell if she was angry at the thought that I might be
smoking or relieved that she wouldn’t have to wait any longer for a cigarette.
She took the pack and lighter from me and lit a cigarette for her self and
pushed the pack and lighter back across the table toward me. “Thanks,” she
said through her exhale. “I needed that. Care to join me?” she asked
playfully. “I just hate smoking alone. Don’t you?”