Dress Code, Part 2

Before the incident, I had deluded myself into thinking that if I ever went out in public dressed like a girl then I would be immediately found out, that everyone would see right through my shallow disguise, that it would be a fantasy not worth considering. But now...Mr. Elmer, Bill, and Paul had all taken me for a girl, at least briefly. At two other guys admitted to thinking I was a girl, and no telling how many others. My wild fantasy of changing my life didn't seem so wild now.

I wanted to break down and tell my mother, really I did. Every morning I would tell myself 'Today I do it. Today I come out.' But I couldn't. I mean, how do you tell your mother something like that? Blurt it out? 'Mom, I want to be a girl!' Or maybe 'Mom, there's something we need to talk about?' 'Mom, dressing up last week got me thinking...'? Or just surprise her in one of her dresses? Every time I thought I could bring myself to say it, I'd end up chickening out. Telling her I wanted to drop out of school or join a cult would have been easier.

I had two choices. Come to terms with what I had to do, or live in a state of denial all my life. Denial seemed to be winning out, when it happened.

I had never liked shopping for clothes, for obvious reasons. The bland, cotton underwear and socks. The dull jeans. The boring sweaters. I would look wistfully over at the girls' department and dream: the lacey panties, the nylon hose, the sexy skirts, and the darling blouses. That was the area of the store where I belonged, not the one with the posters of young models in their football jerseys or dress slacks.
It so happened that mom felt it was time for me to get some new clothes. Most guys my age beg and wheedle money out of their parents for clothes, my mom had to practically drag me to the store.
"Harvey, c'mon. You've been putting this off for weeks. Your pants don't fit, your shirts are worn to hell, and you need new dress shoes. We're going shopping, today!"

"C'mon mom. Maybe a couple or pairs of jeans, but why do I need a bunch of clothes? I have enough to wear right now."

"Doesn't it bother you what you look like? Don't you want to impress the girls at your school?"

Only with my pretty appearance, I thought glumly.

"Mom, clothes don't matter to me." Boy clothes, at least.

"Well, they matter to me. I don't see why you whine about this so much."
"Because I hate clothes shopping! It's pointless."

"Well, the clothes you have now are worthless, so you're going to get some new ones. Or would you rather keep wearing dresses and skirts?"

"YES!"

There was a long, long pause. Mom had meant that crack about women's clothes as a joke, but I had answered seriously. There was still time for me to back out. I could have laughed, passed it off as a joke, anything. But I stayed quiet, not daring to breathe until Mom broke the silence.

Now that I think back on it, I suppose Mom could have avoided confrontation as well. She could have ignored what I said, or pretended I was joking, or whatever. But instead, with a dead serious expression asked "Harvey....what are you saying?"

I swallowed. "I do want to go shopping, Mom. Just....just not in the boy's department."

"I see. Well, what would you like to buy?" This was torture. Anger, sorrow, rage, I could stand. Joy was too much to hope for, though hope I did. This steady, emotionless questioning, however... But I was in too deep to stop.

"The kind of clothes I wore last week. Dresses, skirts, panties...well, all girl's clothes, I guess."

"Anything else?"

If you don't ask for the moon, you'll never get it. "Makeup, perfume, cosmetics, all that."

"Harvey," Mom almost seemed afraid to ask the next question. "Do you just like to dress like a girl, or...is there something else? Be honest."

My voice cracked, I had to start again. "Mom, I am a girl. I don't know why I think that way, but it's not a phase and it's not an idle thought. I've always been this way. I am a girl. I think like one, I feel like one, and I think, with help, I could look like one. I want to live like a girl, dress like a girl, and be treated like one. I want..." I closed my eyes "I want to have a sex change."

Mom sat down on my bed. Here it comes, I thought. The tears, the screaming, the accusations. But I was wrong. Mom just looked at me, for what seemed like forever. Finally, she spoke.

"Harvey, here's some money. Go see a movie or something. I need a little time to think things over."

I took the money she offered and walked to the mall. It was Saturday and crowded, but I was alone in the world. I sat at a table in the food court, feeling that I had hit rock bottom. 'Mom, I am a girl'? 'Mom, I want a sex change'? What the hell was I thinking? Mom would hate me, even if I pretended to be 'cured' from now on, she'd always think of me differently. My one true friend, my one ally, and I had alienated her forever. It took all the strength I had not to burst into tears.

I never went to the movies, I just sat there all day in agony, nursing a soda. Time got away from me, I was surprised when a security guard approached me. "It's 9:30, son. You'd best be getting on home, we're closing up here."

I felt like I was walking to my own execution. How could I face my mother now? What would I say to her? Tell her I had been kidding? Say I'd try to stop thinking this way? She'd see through those lies in a second.

I seriously contemplated running away, but I gave that up as hopeless. Besides, as much as I had hurt Mom today, I couldn't hurt her more by abandoning her. I had to face the music.

As soon as I entered the door, Mom rushed to me. "Where have you been?" she almost shouted. "I've been worried sick about you."

At least she wasn't mad. And her concern momentarily hid her shame in me. "I'm sorry...I went to the mall and I guess I just lost track of time." I smiled, meekly. Maybe she wouldn't bring up what I had said this morning. Maybe we could just forget about it and move on with our lives.

"Harvey, honey, come into your bedroom. We need to talk." The dreaded 'We need to talk.' Like a man going to the gallows, I held my head up and walked to my doom.

When I arrived at my room, I was surprised to see that my computer desk was covered with dozens of printouts. Mom rarely used my computer, I wondered what she was up to. She took at seat at my desk and motioned me to sit down on my bed.

"Harvey, I need to ask you a few questions. It's very important that you answer me honestly, I want to understand you and help you." Ugh, the honest answers. Well, there was no point in lying now, not after what I had said this morning.

Mom picked up a sheet of paper and began reading off of it. "How long have you felt this way, Harvey?"

"Since as long as I remember. The first time I really remember is when I was about four. Mary June from next door came over, remember her? Anyway, she had on this lacey party dress and I told her that I was going to ask Santa Claus for one just like it; it was almost Christmas. She told me that only girls wore dresses so I told her I was going to ask Santa to turn me into a girl."

"Hmm. OK. Now how often do you dress as a girl? I'm assuming that last week wasn't you first time."

"I only manage to dress once or twice a month." Good sense told me to leave well enough alone, but I had to plow on. "Of course that's because I didn't want you to find out. If it were up to me I'd dress every day, all day."

Mom nodded. It was weird, she wasn't freaking out. Maybe she just wanted the full story before she laid into me. "Harvey, are you happy with your present body?"

I shook my head.

"Why not?" asked Mom.

"Because it's a boy's body. It will never have breasts. It will just get hairy and big. I want to be soft and smaller."

"Anything else?"

"My penis," I closed my eyes "I want...no, I need to have a vagina."

Mom jotted something down on the paper. "Who are you more sexually attracted to, men or women?"

"I don't think about sex a lot, but when I do...I guess you could say I have no interest in girls, but some in boys." In most cases, an answer like that would be enough to cause a rift in a mother-son relationship, but with me it was just the tip of the iceberg.

"One more question, Harvey. If you could start living as a woman, if you could begin taking female hormones, if you could eventually, some day, have sex change surgery, would you want to?"

Mom was looking at me intently. I hadn't been able to face her through any of the other questions, but for this one I looked her full on.

"Yes, I would."

Mom let out a sigh. It wasn't a depressed sigh, more resigned than anything. "Okay, Harvey. I've been doing a lot of research on the internet today. I've learned a lot about your, ah, condition. It's called transgenderism, if I'm not mistaken. I nodded. She smiled a thin smile. "I take it you've been doing your homework as well." I grunted an affirmative.

"Here's the deal, Harvey. I don't know what to tell you. This wasn't covered in any parenting book I've read. I mean, should I be angry, sad, what?" I didn't know what to say.

"So I looked to the internet for help. While most of the sites varied on their advice, they all agreed to one thing: you need to see a councilor immediately. Would you do that for me, honey? See a psychologist?"

"Of course, Mom." So that was the route. Take me to a head shrinker to see if I could be cured. Listen to some old psychiatrist tell me about my feelings and babble on about repressed-this and Freud-that. If it made my Mom happy to see me treated, fine. But I knew better than anyone that these feelings weren't going away.

"Okay. I'll start researching therapists tomorrow."

I couldn't take this anymore. From now on, I'd be her strange son. The pansy. The sissy. The one who had to get his head examined to see why he had such perverted urges. "Mom, um, can I go to bed now?"

"In a minute, dear. I need to take your measurements, I'm going to get you some new clothes tomorrow." God, not that again.

"Mom, you don't have to measure me. I'll go with you."

Mom smiled, a bittersweet smile. "I'm afraid you can't. They don't let boys try on things in the girl's department."

For the first time in my life, I doubted the veracity of my senses. Had I heard correctly? The girl's department? As in dresses and training bras?

"Mom, you don't mean...?"

Mom got up and sat down next to me. She put her arm around me. "Harvey, this isn't easy for me, but it must be ten times as hard for you, especially keeping it inside this long. I've been thinking about this for a very long time..."

"Mom, I only told you today."

"Yes, but I've suspected for a while."

I guess my shock showed. "Hey, you can't fool your mother."

"But how..."

"Well, you've never been what I'd call a man's man, but that wasn't it. It was little things. You seemed to take more that a casual interest in my clothes when you were younger, and were always wanting to play dress-up when you were in pre-school. I'd occasionally notice an outfit that should have been at the bottom of the laundry on top. You'd always seem angry when I'd try to compliment you on how strong or handsome you were. And once you got on internet, I noticed some rather unusual sites in the history list."

I mentally beat myself for that last one. How could I have committed such a bone-headed, moronic mistake? All my efforts not to be caught, and I forget that every site I visit is logged into the history list. Well, maybe it was better that I was found out early.

"Anyway," Mom continued, "this wasn't totally unexpected. When I suggested you go to school dressed as a woman, I wanted to see how you'd react. Now that it's all come out," she let out that sigh again, "I figure I should do what it takes to make you happy. You're far too young to decide you want a sex change, but we'll take you to the psychologist to see if that might be an option. Someday. But for now, I figure you'd never say you wanted to be a girl if you didn't feel it, and strongly. I want you to be happy, honey, and last week was the happiest I'd seen you in a long time. Until we decide the best course of action for the future, well...what would you say if I said I'd let you dress like a girl at home, when we were alone?"

I hugged my mom and started bawling. I couldn't help it.

*

The only thing I remember about school the next day was that I was incapable of concentrating. All I could think of was mom's comment that she'd get me some new clothes tomorrow. New girl clothes. Surely it couldn't be true...fantasies like mine never came true! Could I really come home to a pile of dresses? My own dresses? That I could wear whenever I wanted?

No, it was insane. Mom probably was just making idle promises, something to keep me happy for the moment. Like she'd ever dress her only son up like her daughter...

I knew I shouldn't expect any miracles, but it is impossible to extinguish hope. I was like a child on Christmas morning: expecting socks, but hoping for a puppy.

I raced home to my house. When my hand hit the knob, it froze. This might have been my last chance to revel in an understanding mother and the immediate promise of new clothes. I took a deep breath. 'Please, just one dress,' I silently prayed.

My mom wasn't in the living room, so I called out for her. "I'm in your room," she called back, "come back here, I want to show you something."

When I saw what awaited me in my room, I knew that all the risk had been worth it.

My room looked like a Kardashian’s closet. Bag after box after loose garment was piled on my bed and most of my floor.

I looked at my mom, she had exceeded even my wildest expectations.

"I suppose I went a little overboard," she said with a funny smile. "But I guess if you've been waiting for eleven years for a dress of your own, then I owed you a few."

I couldn't even stammer out a 'thank you,' but I think Mom knew how I was feeling. She began to show me what she had bought me.

First came the underwear. There were at least twenty different pairs of panties, bland cotton of course, but each one a different color. Next came the nylons. There were enough nylons and pairs of pantyhose to keep a gang of bank robbers disguised for a year. I made a note to burn my briefs as soon as possible. Even if mom refused to let me go through with this, I could always sneak on the panties under my jeans.

The contents of the next bag made me shriek with delight. It contained three training bras! Small sized bras for young women who were just starting to develop. Hey, I felt like a young woman and with hope I'd start developing someday! After what I was experiencing today it didn't seem like such a ridiculous notion.

I figured I could stuff the undergarments with washcloths until I could find something better, but once again mom was thinking ahead of me. At the bottom of the bag there was a set of fake, foam-rubber breast forms. They were small, but I figured that at age fifteen I didn't need anything gigantic. What was more, they felt a lot like the real thing, and even had fake nipples on them (should I ever go braless).

Like a kid on Christmas I ripped into the next packages. Skirts, dresses, blouses, girl's jeans, and all manner of female attire. There were even necklaces and earrings for non-pierced ears.

Finally, I opened the bag full of nail polish, makeup, and hairspray. There was nothing wanting. I closed my eyes, praying that everything would still be there when I opened them.
"Harvey," my mother said "is this what you want? I want to make you happy, that's the important thing. Would these clothes make you happy?"

Once again, I began my very un-masculine crying. What my mother must have gone through, picking out clothes for her son, acting as if she was shopping for a young woman. And all for me! Had she made me happy?

"Oh, yes mom!" I babbled through my tears. "Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

Mom hugged me. "Now enough of that. There, wipe those tears. No point in crying now, why don't you try something on? I'm pretty sure I got everything in your size..."

I didn't know what to put on first. Now that I no longer had to hide what I wanted, I got greedy, wanting to try on everything in rapid succession. Mom checked my impulses, and suggested I start slow.

So start slow I did. Two pairs of frilly panties to hide my penis. A pair of dark hose to hide my leg hair. A black, ankle-length skirt and a poofy, white blouse. A pair of overlarge heels (mom admitted having trouble converting my men's shoe size to the women's scale).

Then, mom sat me down and made me over. As I watched in joyous anticipation, she filed and manicured each of my nails and glued a fake one on top. I took mental notes as she used lipstick to redden my lips, rouge to add color to my cheeks, eye shadow to accentuate my eyes, and mascara to lengthen my lashes.

Mom took out a brush and began teasing my hair. It went from its normal, tangled messiness to a silkier, more well-maintained hairstyle. Finally, with the addition of earrings and her watch, I was finished.

There she was. She shown, she glowed! Pretty, shy, and yet somehow more confident than she had ever been, she smiled back at me from the mirror. She now had nothing to hide. As long as she was in this apartment, then she could exist happily and unashamedly. Now I'd just have to convince mom that I needed to live like this always.

"Harvey, how do you feel?" asked my mom.

I wondered how to answer: excited, relieved, happy? I hit on the perfect answer...

"Natural, I feel natural. This is how it's supposed to be."

Mom put her arms around me. "I want you to feel good about yourself. I want you to know...I want you to know that you can dress like this whenever you want...only at home of course." I was struggling with the happy tears again.

"But I also want you to know," she continued, "we can stop doing this anytime you like. You wouldn't owe me any sort of explanation...no matter how far we go with this, you can always back out."

"I won't ever want to go back mom. This is the life I have to lead. But mom, tell me honestly, you wish I wouldn't do this, right?"

Mom didn't speak for a while. "Yes, I wish you wouldn't do this. I wish you wouldn't do this, because I know you've chosen a very difficult course in life. If you decide you want to...make this permanent, then you'll have to take a hard, hard, path, and there is no point in pretending otherwise. You'd have to give up your current life. And when you decide you want to date...well, if you should be interested in...in a boy, then...well, we'll discuss that when the time comes. That's why I want you to know that, no matter how deep you get, you can always stop."

"But mom," God, did I really want to know the answer to this next question? "Are you...ashamed of me?"

"For Pete's sake, no!" Mom emphatically answered. "No matter how this turns out, I'll always be proud of you."

"You don't know how happy you've made me today," I told her.

"I think I do."

"No, you don't. You might have an inkling, but you can't imagine the black hole I was in before you rescued me. Imagine if you were suddenly zapped into a man's body...and that you had to act like a man, be macho, sleep with women, and there was no escape. That was my life."

"Harvey, I guess I'll never really understand what you're going through, but I want to help you. Please be open with me."

"Could I start on estrogen therapy?"

"No. I'm sorry, but you agreed to see a psychiatrist, and until the doctor says you are emotionally and physically mature enough, then no."

I figured as much. "Well, could you do something for me?"

"What's that?"

"Treat me like a girl? Don't mention the true state of things unless you have to? Refer to me as 'her' or 'she,' even if it's only when we are alone? It would make me feel more comfortable...and it might help you get used to things."

Mom smiled a thin smile. "I guess you really think there is no going back, eh?"

"I know there isn't. Now that I know you won't hate me, I can't stop. Even if you won't let me, when I turn eighteen..."

Mom cut me short. "We'll discuss that when the time comes. Treat you like a girl? Well, as long as you are dressing as one...I guess I can't call you Harvey anymore. What should I call you?"

"Any suggestions?"

"Well, your name starts with H, how about something that starts with the same letter, maybe 'Hannah'?"

"That sounds like someone's grandmother."

"Hester? Heather?"

"No, I don't think this is working. Let's try a different line."

"Like what?"

I remembered something that Bill had once said about my name. "How about Lee?" I ventured.
Mom laughed. "From Harvey to Lee. OK Lee." She sighed. "Where did I go wrong?" But she was smiling when she said it.

*

The next few weeks felt like the end of a prison sentence. Normally when the final bell rang I'd make my unhurried way to the front of the school, either to get a ride from Mom or to walk home. Now I was like an Olympic track star, just waiting for the starter pistol to fire. It was a rare day that I didn't make it home in under fifteen minutes.

There I would shuck my hated boy's clothes into the laundry and run to my closet. I would always have to catch my breath and I pondered my many options for the day. Would it be a skirt, blouse and heels combination? Or a relaxed half shirt, jeans and pumps? Or did I feel the urge to put on a backless evening gown and faux pearls? Decisions, decisions...
Of course, my wardrobe selection was only the beginning. I would hop in the shower and scrub myself clean. Then, pausing only to don my new pink robe, I'd start on the makeup.

I had insisted than Mom show me everything she knew about the art of the makeover. I had been a most eager and willing student and now could make myself up in a variety of ways. So many different options: the overly exaggerated prom night look; the female executive, with eye shadow and faint blush only; the high school sweetheart, with just a little of everything; or casual, just a dab of lipstick.

Then I would do my hair. Since a lot of guys wore their hair long, I had decided to grow mine out. It was about down to my shoulders now, I could almost manage a ponytail. Soon I'd have endless options.

Mom suffered through this like a trooper. I knew that every day she hoped that I'd say that enough was enough and stop. Despite what she had said, I knew that concern for my future wasn't the only reason she wanted me to give this up. When a woman gives birth to a son, she doesn't expect to buy him lingerie some day. Still, she held her tongue. When she noticed that I had shaved my legs she didn't say a word. I didn't mention that I had shaved my armpits as well.

Things would have been perfect had she allowed me to go out in public dressed like my true self, but I knew better than to bring that up. I lived in constant fear of mom deciding that she had made an error and it was time for this cross-dressing business to come to a close.

I spent close to an entire week after school, sitting at home and making myself pretty. Finally Mom put an end to that self-destructive lifestyle. She had agreed I could act like a woman, not a hermit. From now on, she said, I'd have to spend at least three afternoons a week out of the house.

Changing back into the hated masculine attire wasn't easy, but I knew it had to be done. And, despite the fact I hadn't had many friends before, the Great Dress Code Uprising had made me closer to several students. A couple of times a week I'd hang out at the arcade with Bill or rent movies with Luthor. Once I even went to a church youth group meeting with Paul.

It made me sad, in a way. For the first time in my life I was on the way to making true friends, and I knew it wouldn't last. Despite what Mom hoped, I was destined to be a girl. When I turned eighteen, she couldn't prevent me any longer. Still, I truly hoped I could enter into my new life, if not with her blessing, then with her understanding and support. I also knew that I could never explain the change to my former friends. Harvey would have to go. Mom was right, it wouldn't be easy but I knew it was the only way.

After three weeks of this half girl/half boy existence, Mom brought up what I had been dreading. She had located a psychiatrist who specialized in the area of gender identity. I'd have sessions twice a week.

With great trepidation, I steeled myself for the first meeting. I pictured some old man telling me why my urges were wrong and the best way to overcome them. But on the other hand...you can't have a sex change in this country without consent of a psychiatrist...maybe I could convince the old doc that the only course of action was to prescribe some estrogen injections for me, in preparation for my eventual surgery. Maybe I could turn this situation to my advantage.

On the afternoon of my first session, I chose my outfit carefully. I figured if I dressed too boyishly then the shrink wouldn't take my urges seriously. If I dressed up too much, however, then he might think I was just a confused drag queen. I settled on my original gray skirt, with heels, a blouse, and a woman's cardigan. Unmistakably feminine, but conservative as well.

When Mom came home to drive to me to the doctor's she was shocked at what I was wearing. "Harvey, did you forget it's time for you to see the doctor? You can't go like that!"
I touched up my makeup with my compact. "That's the point, Mom. I want him to see that this isn't some sort of passing phase, and that I can make a convincing girl. I have to let him know I'm serious."

Mom didn't know whether to be angry or accepting. "I never gave you permission to leave the house dressed this way," she said, not sure what to think.

"I'm sure you told the doctor the purpose of our appointment, so he won't be shocked. And I think I can walk from the car to his office without attracting too much attention."

"Harvey, er, I mean Lee..."

"Mom, listen to me. If the doctor thinks I'm making a mistake, fine. But he has to know how much this means to me."

"OK Lee. But stop referring to your doctor as 'he.' Her name is Dr. Kari Odom."

*

The doctor's office was located in a large medical facility. Mom and I sat in the empty waiting room after we had announced our presence to the receptionist. I glanced at her as she sat behind her desk, typing something. Did she suspect? If she did, she certainly didn't let on.

Dr. Odom, a pleasant looking woman in her fifties, invited us into her office and asked us to sit down. She looked at my file; I recognized it as my general health record from my family doctor. Her first question to me was what I preferred to be called. Predictably, I requested to be called Lee.

"Alright, Lee. Now before we begin, I want you to know that you are safe here. You can tell me anything. Without your permission, nothing short of a court order can make me reveal anything you've told me." I smiled, I was a little concerned about that end of things.

"Now Lee, one of my specialties is helping men who have decided that they want to become women. If I find that that is what they truly need, and they are mature enough to handle it, I recommend them for gender reassignment surgery, or GRS. I want to say right off that I cannot guarantee I'll do that for you. It would be irresponsible for me to rubber-stamp every sex change request that comes through here. But I can promise you that I'll keep an open mind and maybe help you decide what will be best for you in the long run.”

I let out an internal sigh of relief. She was professional, open-minded, and best of all, she didn't reject my claim outright.

"Now Lee," said the doctor, taking out a pen and pad, "would you like to talk to me alone, or would you like your mother to be present?"

"Well, I don't mind if Mom stays. It's not like we have any secrets."

Dr. Odom wrote something down and I panicked. What did she put, that I was Oedipal or obsessed with my mother or something? I guess she noticed my consternation, because she smiled and showed me the pad. She had only written the date.

"Now Lee, it's fine if you want your mother to be included in our sessions, many of my patients bring alone friends and family members for support. But if, for any reason, you need to tell me something in private, you may." She faced Mom. "That's my rule. Do you agree?" Mom nodded.

The doctor requested that I tell her about myself. Soon I was relating my entire tale of woe...how I was trapped in the wrong body, how I had always felt this way, how dresses seemed natural to me, how I really was a girl, despite my Y chromosomes. I mentioned several times that I was happy in all other respects, I didn't want Dr. Odom to think that Mom had done a poor job raising me or anything. She then asked me several questions. Did I get sexually aroused by women's clothes? No. Did I get sexually aroused by women or men? It was still a little ambiguous, but I could easily see myself with a man, if I were a woman. Would I go through the gender change procedure, even if it meant giving up my current life? Yes. Even if it were painful? Yes. Even if my mom forbid it? I hoped it wouldn't come to that, but yes. I avoided Mom's eyes when I said that.

The doctor told me she'd like me to come twice a week. Once for a private session, another to meet with a transgender support group.

"You mean...with others like me?" It was still hard for me not to think of myself as a unique case.

"Yes, three others in various stages of transitioning. You can count on their discretion, they need their privacy as much as you do."

I readily consented.

In the car, Mom asked me what I thought of the doctor. I replied that I liked her, I felt she understood me. Mom agreed. She got the impression I was in good hands. We took off for home.
"Lee," Mom said, after a bit, "about what you said back there. I want you to know that it never will come down to a choice between our relationship and your lifestyle. I may not support what you are doing, but I will help you. I want you to be happy, I'll never forbid it."

I mentally reminded myself that Mother's Day was coming up.

*

While Mom was welcome in our private sessions, the doctor requested that she not attend the support group unless she absolutely felt she must. When you are undergoing a sex change you want as few people to know about it as possible. Mom agreed.

I went to the group not knowing what to expect. Convincing women, poor drag attempts, what? I entered Dr. Odom's office and was introduced to my fellow gender benders (their names have been changed to protect their privacy).

First was Rachel, formerly Robert. She (I will refer to all of them by the feminine gender here) was a tall, strapping redhead. She was big, but not ungainly, and very freckled. She was thirty years old, and had been transitioning for the past two. She had had breast implants and hormone therapy, her surgery was scheduled for two months from now.

I immediately liked her. She was an example of what I could achieve. A happy, outgoing woman, totally at peace with herself. She was far too large to be a beauty queen, but attractive in her own way. She made it clear she was looking for a husband and I knew with her fun loving persona it wasn't an impossible request (provided she found someone who could accept her past).

Next was Denise, formerly Dennis. She was forty-one. She looked like a woman, but not a pretty one. Too hairy, too ungainly. She could pass, but not be pretty. Denise was a sad case, she had 'come out' only recently, and after fifteen years of marriage. With her was Patty, her wife. Patty had been devastated by her husband's confession, she attended the meetings, trying to work out what would become of her marriage and her relationship with someone who was no longer really a man.

Lastly was Katie, formerly Kip. Katie was twenty-four, black-haired, willowy, and did the best job out of any of us (myself included) of passing as a girl. She had been taking estrogen for over a year, but illegally, getting hers from a supplier in Mexico. Unlike the rest of us, Dr. Odom made it known that she felt Katie was making a mistake, she had only decided she wanted to be a girl a couple of years ago, after her (or Kip's) fianc”š ran off with another woman. The doctor thought Katie was suffering from a nervous breakdown, and was trying to convince her to return to manhood.

Dr. Odom introduced me as Lee. Everyone said hello. I didn't say much my first meeting, I just listened. Some of what the others said really hit home with me: the fear of telling their families, the long-time desires in secret, the terror of being caught. On the other hand, some were suffering from problems I was glad I didn't have: Rachel's family refused to accept her phone calls, Denise and Patty were suffering through what would probably be the end of their relationship, Katie was legitimately worried about being denied the operation.

When the session was closing, Dr. Odom asked if I would like to say a few words about myself. I gave a brief outline of my situation and thanked everyone for their support. The meeting ended, and everyone left. I stayed behind to wait for Mom.

As I was talking to the doctor, Denise came back in. She seemed nervous. "Listen, Lee. This may be none of my business, but I think you are doing the right thing, coming to grips with this so young. I wish I had. I've lost my friends, my job, and I've destroyed the life of the only woman I ever cared about. Not to mention I look horrible. No, it's true. I just want you to know, if you feel that this is what you want, then go for it. Don't wait until it's too late like I did." I thanked her and she left.

*

Soon the school year drew to a close. I continued my dual existence: Harvey at school, Lee at home and at the sessions with Dr. Odom and the others. I soon got to the point where I was absolutely sure that no one would think anything odd if I went out in public dressed like Lee. Mom was steadfast in her denial of this. I think she wanted to prevent me of building up a life as a girl, in case I ended up not going through with it.

Mid-July I went to one of my private sessions with the doctor. Much to my surprise, she requested that I wait in the waiting room while she talked to Mom. I was hurt, and not a little afraid. I had let Mom in on all my secrets, and now they locked me out. What were they doing in there? If it concerned me, then I had every right to know!

Mom opened the door, and motioned me in. Much to my surprise, Dr. Odom left and shut the door behind her. What was with all the secrets? I was even more shocked when I noticed Mom had tears in her eyes.

"Harvey, uh, Lee...sorry, I'm still getting used to this. Listen...Dr. Odom has been talking to me, and well...she's convinced that forcing you to live as a boy is going to end up hurting you. And I can't hurt you, honey. You're all I have in this world. And well, I've been thinking. I can't live on Dad's police pension forever...I've been offered a sales job in the city. What would you think about moving all the way into town?"

It was fine by me, in my opinion the suburbs combined the crime and traffic of the city with the dullness and isolation of the country. I thought it was good that Mom was getting back to work, maybe it meant she was finally recovering from her tragic past. But what did all this have to do with me and Dr. Odom?

"Now Lee, you'd have to transfer schools. And well, we were thinking...how would you like to begin your junior year as a girl?"
"Oh Mom, do you mean it?"

"Lee, ever since that day I told you that you could dress like a girl, I've never seen you so happy. Never, in all your life. I can't take that happiness away from you, it would be cruel and short-sighted. Remember, if you ever want to stop, you can, but something tells me you won't."

"Mom, you've made me the happiest girl on earth. You'll never regret this." I had to restrain myself from laughing...my dreams were coming true!
Mom hugged me. "OK. I'll register you tomorrow, we'll probably be moved by next month. Just be careful, that's all I ask."

"I will Mom."

"I know, dear. And Dr. Odom said that if you live the rest of the summer as a girl, then she'll allow you to start on estrogen."
Christmas, New Years, and my birthday, all in one day.

*

I was expecting trouble when Mom went to register me at my new city high school, but she told me later it happened without incident. She simply registered me as 'Lee' and signed me up for the classes I had requested. I had taken the state required PE class as a freshman, so I didn't have to worry about changing in front of others. I'd just have to watch myself in the restroom. In the lady's room.

On my sixteenth birthday I took and passed the driver's exam and received my license. When it came time to do the paperwork I marked 'female' on the form and got into the longest line I could find at the DMV. Much to my surprise, I realized I was standing behind Paul, the Christian who had saved us all at the dress code protest. Hoping not to be noticed, I watched as he took his vision exam.

"Close your right eye," said the civil servant behind the counter.

"I am blind in my right eye."

"Then close your left eye," replied the none-too-bright counterman.

"You do not understand. I can only see out of my left eye. I do not need to close one."

"You have to close one, it's the rules."

Eighteen minutes later, Paul had finished the two minute eye exam. "Judge not," I heard him mumbling to himself as he left.

The dope behind the counter didn't even look at my birth certificate. I now had a license that said 'Lee Cambiar, female.' Illegal, yes, but at least now I had a valid piece of ID.

Within a week we had left our old apartment and moved into our new urban one. It was a little bigger than our previous one, but not much of a change other than that. When we were preparing for the move I told Mom not to bother packing my boyish clothes, I wouldn't be needing them anymore. While she had insisted we take a couple of outfits with us, I managed to convince her to let me give most of my old clothes to charity. From here on out I planned to wear nothing but skirts, dresses, and women's slacks.

Once the movers had gone, Mom and I relaxed on our sofa, regarding all the boxes that still needed to be unpacked. Mom groaned. "Maybe if I wish really hard, everything will put itself away."

"Well," I said, looking down at my nylon covered legs and pumps, "sometimes wishes do come true."

Mom smiled a bittersweet smile at me. "Lee," she said, "you certainly make a lovely girl."

"Oh Mom...I've been waiting sixteen years for someone to say that."

"Why did you never tell me earlier?"

"I was afraid you'd hate me. I was afraid you'd be ashamed, or think I had dishonored Dad or something."

Mom looked at me severely. "I'll never be ashamed of you honey. And I know your father, if he were alive today, would never be dishonored by you. He loved you. Even though you weren't born yet, he loved you."

"Thank you Mom. Thank you for everything."

Mom put her arm around me. "This wasn't easy, at first. I hoped that by giving you permission to be a girl you'd just grow tired of it, like when you become old enough to drink and it stops being a fun, forbidden thing. But now I know that's not the case. Something tells me that you really do have a woman's heart."

"I always have. And thanks to you, now I'm not living a lie."

Mom stood up. "Well Lee, you've been wanting to show yourself to the world for some time now. What do you say we go out to eat?"


"Oh Mom, you mean I can go like this?"

"You'll be starting school in a couple of weeks. I might as well get used to it."

We went out to a nice restaurant. It was how I had always pictured it. 'Where would you ladies like to sit?' 'And what would the young lady like to drink?' 'Ma'am, did you order the chicken, or did your daughter?'

That night I prayed that that would be what the rest of my life would be like. Never again referred to as 'he' or a 'gentleman.' All I'd have to do would be to convince Dr. Odom to recommend me for GRS. It could really happen.

(Continued)