Dress Code, Part 3


The next week I spent composing a feminine past for me. The first thing I did was to ask Mom not to display any photos of me in our apartment, and to remove the existing ones out of the family albums. It was hard on Mom, but since I'd be introduced to everyone as her daughter from now on, then it had to be done. How could we explain the picture of the young man in our old family shots?

I then sat about fixing up my room. Figuring that Mom had made enough sacrifices for my change in life, I withdrew some of my savings for new room decorations. Floral sheets and a frilly comforter, feminine drapes, a couple of stuffed animals, and, after only a moment's hesitation, a shirtless poster of a current Hollywood beefcake. When Mom saw what I had done to my room, she only shook her head and sighed.

The day before school started, Mom and I drove back to Dr. Odom's office for my first weekly shot of estrogen. The doctor told me that I wouldn't notice any changes for months, and even then I'd probably be the only one who could tell, the changes would happen so gradually. Still, when I came home that night, I couldn't help but looking at my chest in the mirror, to see if anything had grown.

School started. Thanks to our new location I could now walk to school. On the first day of classes I stood in front of the high school, purse in hand, hair in a pony tail, skirt swishing in the breeze. After this, there was no going back. I walked in. Usually when school started, I would lurk around in the corners, waiting for the first bell so I could get the day over with. Well, I had reinvented my gender, so what was to stop me from reinventing my personality? I smiled at people, said hi to strangers, glanced over the bulletin board announcements (cheerleader tryouts? Hmmmm....nah) and generally made myself seen. Just before first bell I casually strolled into the women's room, ostensibly to adjust my makeup, but in reality just to revel in actually being in there, terra incognito, the last frontier. The restroom with a tampon machine and no graffiti.

I took a seat in my first hour chemistry class and smiled in a friendly way at the girl sitting next to me. When the teacher called roll, I said 'here' when the name Lee Cambiar was called.

At lunchtime I bought a tray of something that looked halfway edible and looked around for a seat. As I walked past a table full of girls, one of them motioned for me to sit with them.

Her name was Angelica, she and her friends were all members of the field hockey team. I introduced myself as a new student. Soon we were all chatting about girl stuff: clothes, makeup, and boys. My God, no longer did I have to pretend to know who won football games or force myself to make leering comments about whatever woman who walked by. I hoped I wouldn't do anything to screw this up, I'd really like it if I became friends with this group of fellow women. I readily agreed when they invited me on a shopping trip to the mall that weekend.

As we were returning our trays, I accidentally dropped my fork on the floor. A guy quickly picked it up and introduced himself. I smiled and did the same. As we walked away, Angelica shook her head. "Boys, always after one thing."

Yes, I thought, and for once I was that one thing!

Mom had arrived home from her new job just before I did. I found her nervously sitting on the couch, awaiting my arrival. I think she half expected me to come home with a broken nose. I quickly assured her that not only had I been a successful girl, I was already making friends. Mom smiled, she had always been concerned about my lack of companions.

After a week, I found that being a girl was no longer the thrill-a-minute adventure it had been earlier. Each day femininity brought me a new and exciting experience, but it no longer effected me the way it once had. It wasn't hard to figure out why. Real women don't jump out of bed every day, thanking God for the chance to be female. I wasn't growing bored with my new identity, I was growing used to it.

Still, when that Saturday rolled around, I eagerly embarked on my first day out with the girls. Angelica picked me up in front of our apartment building in her parents' car and, with a couple of her friends, we drove off to the mall.

It was a fabulous day. Now the only stores in the mall that were closed to me were the ones that sold men's clothing. Dress shops, women's swimwear shops, even lingerie shops were wide open to me, I could go in and browse without fear.

The girls must have thought I had never been shopping before (which I hadn't, at least like this). Every time we passed a new store I insisted on stopping to try on a couple of things. The only moment of panic came when I complained to Angelica through a dressing room door that I was having trouble zipping up the dress I was trying on. She told me to unlock the door, she'd zip me up. Whoops! I certainly didn't want her to see her new 'girlfriend' in this half-dressed state, so I told her that the dress didn't fit anyway.

We decided to round off the day by grabbing some burgers in the food court. On our way there, we were accosted by one of those annoying survey people, you know the kind, they haunt shopping malls with their clipboards, badgering people to take market research polls.

This woman was quite overweight and was sporting a valiantly struggling beard, but seemed nice enough when she asked if any of us ladies would like to answer a few questions. I was feeling generous, so while my new friends made their way to the food court I told them I'd catch up.

I followed the woman to the little survey office and was subject to a brief interview over why or a why not a certain commercial would incite me to see a new movie. While I was leaving, I heard a familiar voice from one of the little cubicles that made up the room. It was Bill, interrogating a woman over two bowls of mac 'n cheese. "Would you say," he said, like a police sergeant grilling a suspect, "that macaroni and cheese A is creamier than macaroni and cheese B?"

My gut went cold. Bill, I knew, was a temp, he had a different job ever few days. Market research must have been his career du jour. I had never expected to see someone I knew back here, I tried to leave as soon as possible. Not soon enough, as it were. Bill looked up from his questionnaire and for one horrible second, our eyes met. I left without claiming the complimentary coupon I would receive for taking the survey.

I tried to put on a cheery face for my friends as we sat eating. Did Bill recognize me? Would he tell anyone? Could he keep a secret? Much to my horror, I saw him coming my way from across the court. He walked right up to our table.

"You forgot your coupon," he said, handing it to me. "Good for ffity cents off your next purchase of Macaroni and Cheese A."

"Thanks Bill," I replied, wondering if that was the only reason he had come over.

He seemed surprised. "I'm sorry," he asked, "do I know you?"

I wished I could have kicked my own butt. So paranoid about not letting on that I knew Bill, and I call him by name. Smooth.

Angelica and the gang were watching me, waiting for me to answer the question. I couldn't think of a convincing lie, so I blurted out the truth "We, er, went to school together." Please don't let him put two and two together.

"Funny, I don't remember you. Your name is...?"

I couldn't give a fake name in front of my friends. "Lee Cambiar."

"Hmmm," said Bill, thinking, "I once new a Harvey Cambiar. Is he any rela..." Bill stopped and looked at me again. "Back to work," he said abruptly and sped off.

I wanted to cry. Bill knew. Who would he tell? Luthor? Paul? Everyone at his school? Everyone at my school?

Pretending I had to go the lady's room, I ran off in search of Bill. I had to beg him to keep his mouth shut. Much to my horror, no one at his office knew where he was. Morosely, I left, only to be startled when someone laid a hand on my shoulder from behind. I let out a shriek before I realized it was Bill.

"I wanted to be a ninja," he grinned, "but Mom insisted that I finish high school."

"Bill..." I began, "I guess you're wondering why I dress like this now."

"Well, I was wondering more why you moved without telling any of your friends or ever calling us, but yes, the dress and sex change have aroused my curiosity as well."

I began to think of an explanation, when he interrupted. "But I also know that it's probably none of my business." The rapt look on his face let me know that he hoped for an explanation anyway.

"Bill, I am a woman. Maybe not physically, but in my heart and mind, I am."

"I see," replied Bill, totally nonplussed. This sort of thing was apparently beyond his realm of experience.

"I've started a new life for myself," I continued, "and for the first time, I'm truly happy. Please don't destroy me by telling anyone my secret."

"I swear," said Bill, for once in his life serious "that I won't tell anyone about this. I have better things to do than ruin people's lives."

I felt like a weight had been removed from my shoulders. "Thank you Bill."

"But uh Harvey, or...damn, what's your name now?"

"Lee."

Bill smiled at the sound of that. "OK Lee Harvey. But hey, I'm still your friend, give me a call sometime."

I smiled at the man who was more of a friend to me than I had ever given him credit for, and turned to go. I stopped when I heard someone behind me shout "Czolgolz, you SOB, I swear I'm gonna rip your lying tongue out!"

A large, muscle-bound teenager had shoved Bill up against the wall. He was handsome, in a muscle-headed type of way, about 6'0", and was wearing the letter jacket of my new high school. The patches on his jacket informed me that he was a member of the football team.

The big jock waved his fist in Bill's face. "Whatever is the matter, Charles?" asked Bill, as if nothing was wrong.

"The problem, shit for brains, is that you said I'd get a free movie coupon if I took your stupid survey."

"And I kept my word."

The jock known as Charles waved the coupon in Bill's face. "This thing expired five years ago!"

"Cavet emptor," said Bill. "Let the buyer beware." I was starting to worry. This guy was seriously capable of mopping the floor with Bill, and yet he was being his usual sarcastic self.

The big guy grabbed Bill by the shirt. "I ought to flush you down the toilet."

Bill winced. "Ow, Charlie, you've got a handful of my chest hair there."

Charlie instantly let go. I breathed a sigh of relief, apparently his anger had been a put on. Mumbling something like 'creamy macaroni my ass,' he turned to leave. Then he spotted me.

"Hey Bill, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"Huh? Oh, Charles, this is (for a panicked second I thought he would say Harvey) Lee. Lee, this is Charles. I let him hang out with me sometimes."

Charlie shot him an angry look, then turned to me. "Charlie Guiteau," he said, shaking my hand. "Pleased to meet you." Charlie was looking right into my eyes, I inwardly blushed when I realized he was probably attracted to me.

"Pleased to meet you," I said sweetly.

"I haven't seen you before, are you new around here?"

"You might say that."

"Well, I'm having a party this Friday. Why don't you stop by?"

"Um, OK, sure."

"Great. See you there. The Dorkmeister (indicating Bill) knows where it is." He smiled at me again and left.

Bill was looking down his own shirt, apparently checking to see if any of his chest hair was missing. I smiled. Body hair was now one thing I'd never have to worry about.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

"Never better."

"Why do you let that guy push you around like that?"

"Ah, Charlie and I go way back. He was just putting on a show for, ah, you." Bill grinned when he realized his friend had been acting extra macho to impress another man.

Someone with a bigger clipboard than Bill's appeared and demanded he stop flirting and get back to work. We parted company. During the drive home, I kept thinking about Charlie. Bill had said that he wasn't as big a jerk as he appeared to be.

I kept thinking about his square jaw, his powerful arms, his towering height...but that was foolish. Still, as far as guys went, he was a hunk.
On the night of Charlie's party, I spent over two hours getting dressed. This would be my first major social event as a woman and I wanted to shine. No longer would I be the shy guy, hiding in the corner. No, tonight I would be the woman I had waited sixteen years to be.

I decided to wear mostly black, black heels, black hose, a black skirt, and a white undershirt with a long-sleeved black top, unbuttoned in the front. I fixed my hair and makeup, and waited for Bill to pick me up.

"Have fun," my mom said. "No drinking, be home by midnight."

Bill parked about two blocks away from Charlie's house. When we were almost there, he said "Damn, forgot something in the car. It's the green house on the left, you ahead without me."

It took me a couple of seconds to realize what was going on. Bill, now that he knew my secret, was afraid to be seen with me! Well, at least afraid to arrive at the party with me, he obviously didn't want anyone to think we were dating. Insulted, I vowed to make Bill wish that he hadn't been so rude.

The party was in full swing, people dancing, talking, eating, music blasting, everyone having a good old time. I spotted Charlie, mingling.

"Lee, I'm glad you made it!" he shouted over the music.

"Thanks for inviting me."

"No prob. Wanna dance?"

I had just been asked to dance by a guy. I thought about how odd that would have been, half a year ago. But now, here it seemed perfectly natural. I was a young woman, what was so strange about a young man asking me for a dance?

We danced a fast number, then another. Then the music slowed down. My God, were we actually going to slow dance?

Charlie gently put his arms around my waist. I put mine around his neck. Because of the height discrepancy, I found the only comfortable way to dance was for me to lay my head against his chest (really! No other reason!). We swayed gently in time to the beat.

Charlie was an OK dancer, maybe that's why I agreed to dance the next slow number with him. Of course, him holding me close, my eyes closed, feeling him breathe...I have to say I rather enjoyed that as well.

Eventually I had to excuse myself to use the restroom. While I was adjusting my makeup, I realized that I could hear Charlie talking in the other room. Much to my surprise, it was Bill's voice who answered him.

Charlie: Look, just say the word and I'll back off. I don't want to steal her from you.

Bill: I'm not interested in her, I told you that before.

Charlie: You sure looked freaked out when I was dancing with her (I was shocked to realize that it was me that they must have been talking about). Seriously man, I'll step aside if you want me to.

Bill: Listen Meathead, I'm not interested in her, capiche?

Charlie: OK, whatever you say, man.

I was surprised. Charlie, bless his heart, was obviously worried that Bill was interested in me romantically. I was a little annoyed with Bill for denying it so vehemently. I mean I knew he'd never see me like that, but did he have to freak out so much? It's not like I was a plague carrier or anything.

Soon, the time came for me to go home. Bill said he'd get the car, Charlie walked me to the street.

"I'm glad you came," he said, taking both my hands in his.

"So am I. I had a wonderful time."

"So can I maybe call you some time?" he said with a friendly smile. He certainly wasn't the same man I had met at the mall.

"You bet." I gave him my number.

Charlie looked deep into my eyes. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he bent down and brushed my lips with his.

Bill's blaring horn drowned out any subsequent comment I could have made. I waved Charlie goodbye and climbed into the car with Bill.

On the way home, I was too absorbed in my own thoughts to notice how sullen and quiet Bill was being. I had kissed a boy! A man had touched my lips with his! True, it was a brief, almost brotherly kiss, but he sure as hell wouldn't have kissed a guy that way.

When we reached my apartment, I thanked Bill and turned to open the car door. Much to my surprise, Bill hit the automatic door lock, temporarily sealing me in the car. I turned to ask him why.

Much to my shock, Bill was wearing the most wrathful, angry expression I had ever seen on him. I was speechless.

"Stay the hell away from him."

"What?"

"Charlie. Don't you ever come near him again." It wasn't a request, it was a command. His voice was hateful and venomous.

"Bill, what's gotten into you?"

"You kissed him, I saw you."

"So what business is that of yours?"

Bill hit the dashboard with his fist. "I've been friends with Charlie since kindergarten, that's what business it is of mine. Did you bother to tell him what you are?"

"What I am? Bill, I'm not a thing."

"No, you're a guy. And I'll be damned if I'll let you treat Charlie that way."

"Bill," I tried to explain "I'm only physically a male."

"Don't give me that bullshit about being a woman trapped in a man's body, Harvey, or whatever the hell your name is. You have a dick, so that makes you a guy. You want to live as a woman, fine, I can respect that. It's weird, but it's your choice. But don't drag Charlie into this. You'd destroy him if he ever found out."

Bill had a point. I could only imagine how the macho football player would feel when he found out the girl he had kissed was really a boy. But who's to say he'd ever find out? I told Bill as much.

"You just don't get it, do you? Charlie'd be devastated. He wouldn't be able to live with himself. He'd expose you and probably kick my ass for not telling him the truth. You can't see him anymore."

"Bill, you can't tell me who I can or can't see."

"No, but I can tell Charlie the truth."

I was aghast.  "Bill, you swore you wouldn't tell anyone!"

"That was before I caught you playing tonsil hockey with my friend.  Back off or he knows the truth."

Bill flipped the locks open.  Wordlessly, I opened the door and left.
I was near tears when I entered our apartment. Mom had already gone to bed, I sat on the couch and sulked. Why was Bill being so mean? Why wouldn't he mind his own business? What happened between Charlie and myself was none of his concern.

I needed someone to talk to. I knew it was rude, but I couldn't wait until morning. I stole into Mom's room and whispered her name loudly until she woke up.

"Mmmmm...what is it?" she mumbled. Then she saw my face. "Oh my God Lee, what happened?" she was wide awake now. "Are you Okay? What's wrong?"

I told her everything, about Charlie, the dancing, the kiss, about Bill blowing up. Mom sat next to me on the bed and listened.

"Lee, honey, I was afraid this would happen. Listen to me." I looked at her. She had the parental 'this is for your own good' look about her.

"Bill was right, honey. No, listen. I'm sorry, but if he didn't forbid you to see Charlie, then I would. I know it's not fair, but it's not fair to Charlie either. In his eyes you were born a girl, with no complications. How's he going to feel when he finds out?"

"Mom," I said, holding back my anger, "he won't find out! All I want is to go on a date with him, not marry him!"

"You never know what a date can lead to. I only agreed to go out with your father as a favor to a friend who was dating his roommate. You know the rest of the story. What if you end up liking him a lot and then he finds out and doesn't understand? You can't be sure he'll keep things a secret. You can't even be sure he wouldn't hurt you."

"He wouldn't do that!"

"Don't count on it. A lot of guys are very homophobic, and kissing you would amount to, in his eyes, a homosexual experience. That might make him do something he normally wouldn't. Besides, an experience like that could traumatize a young man."

Mom was making a good point. I couldn't very well tell Charlie 'Oh, I hope it doesn't bother you, but I have a male body under this dress.' At the same time, it would be horribly unfair to him to lead him on and think he was in a normal relationship.

"Mom," I said, with a hitch in my voice "it's not just Charlie. I'm sixteen, I want to date. Am I supposed to be a nun? Be alone forever?"

Mom hugged me. "Lee, Lee, Lee," she repeated. "I wish you had been born a girl. I wish I could spare you all this pain. I told you earlier this wasn't an easy life you had chosen for yourself. I wish I could say that all guys were kind and understanding. But I'm afraid that that's not the way things worked out. I'm sorry, but no dating."

"For how long? Until I'm old and alone? An old spinster?"

"No, I guess not. To be honest, I don't know what to tell you. Once again, I'm stumped. Maybe you should ask your friends at the support group. They might be able to advise you."

"That's a good idea. Maybe they know how to break this to a guy."

"OK. Well, I have to turn in. I'm sorry I have to be so strict about the boys, but I'm concerned for your safety."

We hugged and I went to bed.

The next day, Charlie called me and asked me to a movie. I knew I had to tell him I wasn't interested, but I couldn't. I kept hoping that someone at the gender support group would come up with some sort of amazing plan for guiltlessly dating him. I told him that I was busy, maybe some other time.
There was a festive attitude at the support meeting that week. Rachel, the big redhead, would be leaving for a hospital in the West the next day; when she returned she would be a physically complete woman.

There was little discussion that night, Rachel and Dr. Odom had brought snacks and we enjoyed ourselves. I felt guilty about bringing up my problem, but I needed support. Near the end of the meeting, I asked if I could get some advice.

Instantly, everyone grew serious. I loved these people, they understood so well how much I needed understanding. They had all been there themselves.

I related my problems with Charlie, Bill and my mother and asked them what I should do. Was there any way I could see him without risking being found out or hurting him?

Their replies pretty much mirrored Mom's. Dating Charlie would be dangerous, underhanded and cruel. I'd best forget about him.

"OK," I replied, "I expected as much. But I can't go fending off guys all my life. How exactly do I go about dating?"

Their answers were varied. Denise, the middle aged married woman, said she had resigned herself to a celibate life. She said she was too stocky and unattractive to find a man to love her. We all shouted denials, but it was true. She was not at all desirable. While many guys are capable of seeing inner beauty, finding a man who could look past both her appearance and her history would be asking a lot. I was once again reminded how fortunate I was to have began transitioning so early in my life.

Kip, the young lady who Dr. Odom had advised against transitioning, said that she normally met men at a conservative gay bar. Since women never went there, the customers generally knew she wasn't a complete woman. Some men are attracted to transsexuals so she didn't generally have trouble finding dates. Unfortunately, this advice did me little good. I wouldn't even be old enough to enter the bar for five years, and even if I could, I was only looking for a date, while I assumed the men at the bar were probably looking for a little more.

It was Rachel who gave me the best advice. She said when I entered college to contact the campus gay and lesbian support group and ask them for help. They usually had activities where I could be honest with everyone about the state of things and meet nice people who would understand. That would be my best bet for meeting a man who wouldn't care about my past.

It sounded wonderful, the only problem was that I would have to wait two years until I went off to college. "Isn't there a way I could meet boys right now?"

Rachel shook her head and smiled. "I'm sorry honey, but most guys your age aren't mature enough to understand that you really are a woman, inside. And your mother was right about it being dangerous. Look." Much to my surprise, she removed several of her upper left teeth; they were false.

"A guy I liked knocked 'em out," she explained. "and all I did was hold his hand. If you are going to date a guy, he has to know the truth beforehand. That's why you need to wait until college, when the guys are a little more mature and open. Don't worry, you'll meet someone."

So that was that. I couldn't see Charlie again, I couldn't see any boy for at least two years. Oh well, maybe it was for the best. By the time I left for college hopefully the estrogen would have kicked in and I would be even more of a woman. The thought of finding a nice college man, either a straight guy who understood that I was a woman inside, or a bisexual man who wouldn't care about my past, was a nice one.

Later that week, I was surprised when Charlie roared up in front of my apartment building...on a motorcycle. A real, honest to God Harley. He had on a leather jacket and helmet. I almost swooned, he was so handsome and macho.

"Hey Lee, I was in the neighborhood." I smiled at the lie. He had come to see me! "Can I take you for a spin?" He held up another helmet.

How much I wanted to ride with him. To climb up there, wrap my arms around his chest, lean my head on his back, and let him take me wherever the road lead...but it just wasn't to be.

"Charlie, listen...I like you, but I don't think we should see each other anymore. I'm sorry if I lead you on, it's nothing personal."

Charlie smiled, embarrassed. He thought I liked him, now he probably thought he had just been making an ass of himself.

"Alright," he said with forced casualness, "see you around."

As he gunned his engine, I wanted to tell him to stop, to take me with him, but I didn't. As he roared off, I said silently "Goodbye Charlie. I like you, but it wasn't meant to be."

'I like you, but it wasn't meant to be.' Ranks right up there with other great quotes as 'Peace in our time,' (Chamberlain, 1938) 'No new taxes,' (Bush, 1988) and 'I did not have sex with that woman,' (Clinton, 1998). And, like those other quotes, turned out to be absolutely, and completely wrong.

(Continued)