Carlie, Part 3

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Carlie

III. Back to Boyhood (Sort of)

While I felt and looked cute in the clothes I'd been wearing, I couldn't wear them to school. So I was firm with Kate about not wanting things that were too “lovely” at the mall. I needed an outfit for my father's memorial service, so we started at a discount men's wear store. A suit would have blown the budget, so I got black wool slacks and a navy sports jacket. As the tailor started measuring me for my pants, he said, “Will you be wearing these slacks with the heels your wearing, miss?” If I was embarrassed when the doctor and nurse saw my panties and said nothing, you can imagine my color then. Kate said no, we'd be back in an hour or so when I'd gotten the shoes I'd be wearing.

We went a discount store, but didn't find dress shoes we could afford. Kate did find a dress shirt and tie, some generic jeans that fit (i. e. girls'), a couple of polo shirts and a sweater. Payless had a shop worn pair of girls' black loafers with a 1” stacked heel for $9.99. They were leather and not obviously feminine. (The cheapest black boys' shoes were $24.99 and not real leather.) We got them, but I couldn’t wear them to the men’s store because my slacks would drag. Once there, I put on my new shoes and changed into slacks to be measured. The tailor, seeing my cranberry socks, (and my panties when he adjusted the waist) was still convinced I was a flat chested girl — until he measured my inseam and ran into something he hadn't expected. He was very professional, but now he was as red as I was. Everyone was relieved when finally we left.

Kate and I tallied up our purchases. We didn't have enough for new underwear. I'd be wearing panties a while longer. They felt nice, so I didn't mind as long as I wasn't teased.

When we got home I texted LOL to Judy about being on BC pills for my acne. She thought it strange, but said they really helped with hers, so give 'em a try. She also said I shouldn't take the tetracycline too long as I could get thrush, whatever that is. I didn't text Jason as I thought he might take my being on BC pills as some kind of encouragement. I know that makes no sense, but it's what I thought. Kate made us a late lunch and I took a nap. I didn't wear a diaper, but made sure to empty my bladder.

I stayed home until my father's memorial service on Saturday. I took tetracycline and a BC pill every day. The pharmacist was right, they made me a bit nauseous at first. By Saturday, it was hard to be sure, but my acne seemed marginally better. Maybe the pills were starting to work. I also wore a diaper every night, but only needed it once more — the night of my doctor's appoint ­ment — maybe because I felt like such a sissy. After that, I got my control back, but they felt so comforting I continued wearing them to bed. Maybe it was a rationalization, but I told myself better safe than sorry.

Saturday I wore my new slacks and jacket to the service. There was no body, so it didn't last very long. Judy and her parents were there. Jason came alone. Sandy, Kate and Shane came and there were some people from dad's bank and a couple of our old neighbors. Everyone was very nice except a guy from the bank who kept looking at me like I was a freak. Sandy had arranged lunch and, as I later found out, paid for the whole thing. I cried a lot and didn't say much. I half wished I'd worn a diaper because I wanted to shrink away, be a baby and forget everything.

Monday, I went back to school. No one said anything about my bobbed hair or girl's jeans and loafers, except Jason and Judy. They both liked the look. I think everyone else felt sorry for me and decided to give me as break.

Later that week I realized I'd forgotten my 17th birthday, which was the day of my father's service. When I told Jason, he offered to take me to a movies for my birthday. We saw “Stardust.” We both enjoyed its combination of adventure, romance and comedy and it took my mind off my dad. Jason held my hand and I let him. He also touched my bare leg affectionately as we watched the movie, but didn’t try anything. At the end he kissed me on the lips, but with no tongue. After, as we ate pizza, he asked me if I’d like to wear dresses like Robert De Niro in the movie. I hadn’t thought about it. Later I decided it would be too embarrassing. When he dropped me off, I gave him a hug and a thank you kiss. From then on we had a movie and pizza date each weekend. He was a gentleman and we never did more than innocent kissing. His affection made me warm but not excited. I wasn’t ready to think about what it might mean

I toned down my femme look at school at the beginning of May when the county’s check came. We went to Costco. I got khakis that Kate took in and white tennies to wear instead of my girl’s jeans and loafers. There was enough money for boy's underpants, but I'd been wearing panties for weeks without repercussions after the embarrassing day of my medical. I liked how they felt and looked, so I didn't replace them. It was getting humid and I needed undershirts. On one side of the aisle were men's white tees. Across the aisle were cheerfully colored camisoles styled like wife beaters. I needed cheering up, so I bought two three-packs of bright camis. They were softer and stretchier than boys’ undershirts.

There were only a couple weeks of school left. My teachers saw I was depressed and Shane had called my principal to ask that I be let out of finals. So, I was. My skin was smoother and softer and my hair shone from brushing and conditioning. Jason was the first to notice and asked if I was doing anything different. I told him I was taking acne meds but not what. He said he should get some. Judy, who knew I was taking BC pills, snickered a bit.

Meanwhile, Sandy had been working on my dad's estate. I didn't have much coming as the house was underwater, and the bank took most of what my dad owned. I had my saved nanny wages, some social security benefits if I stayed in school, and the county would pay Shane and Kate to keep me until I was 18. That was about it. Maybe it would cover resident tuition at State and used texts. Of course, I was welcome to continue as Liz's nanny. I could apply for emancipation, but then I'd be on my own and the county payments would stop. Sandy felt I was still too fragile to be on my own, so she recommended against it. Since I was still playing baby every night, I knew I wasn't ready to be an adult.

Graduation was pretty much a non-event. Sandy threw me a small party at her apartment with Shane’s and Kate’s help. Judy and Jason showed up, but they had their own celebrations, so didn't stay long. Even though I was barely 17, I got to have a rum and coke to celebrate. It was good and made me a little high, but I couldn't see what the big deal about alcohol was.

At home, Kate continued brushing my hair every night, and I started relaxing with her. I even told her I was taking BC pills for my acne, and asked if she thought it was OK. She thought they did me a lot of good. The week after graduation the weather heated up, and I wore shorts, camis and “muscle shirts” all the time. Kate suggested that I'd look better with shaved legs and underarms. I knew it was a sissy thing to do, but no one I knew would mind, and I'd look cuter, so I did it. I even plucked the few hairs on my chest. Sandy noticed my smooth legs the next day and said they looked fabulous. Judy stuck her tongue out at me because mine looked better than hers. Jason rubbed his hand gently up and down, feeling how smooth they were, but I made him stop after the first repeat. It felt nice, but I did not want to go there, not with a boy anyway.

Since I was shaving my legs, Kate thought I might like wedge sandals to show them off. She got me a pair with cork soles and a 2” heel as a belated birthday present. Shane got me a messenger bag to carry my things in since some of my shorts had no pockets. Not long after Kate persuaded me to try a perm. My new curls were cute, but hardly boyish. Still, I loved them.

I rode the bus to and from Sandy’s morning and evening. Riding with me were a lot of women who worked as cleaners or nannies. One, Lupe, often got off at my stop and we walked the same way for a block or so before she turned off. Naturally, we get to know each other. She had a degree in Latin American literature from a university in Guatemala, but the only jobs she could find here were as a nanny or housekeeper. She was taking night courses to qualify as a Spanish language teacher, but had a long way to go.

After a few days, she said, “You’re a boy, aren’t you?”

I didn’t take offense at being asked, and admitted I was.

“I thought so, but I was not sure. You look nice as a girl, but have no tetas, boobs.” She paused, glancing across as we walked and wondering if she should press on. Seeing that I wasn’t offended, she did. “Why do you dress as a girl and work as a niá±era, a nanny?”

“I love children and wish I could have my own baby to mother.”

“So you are afeminado, gay?”

“I don’t know. I go to the movies every Saturday with a boy who likes me that way, but I’m not sure if I like him like that. We never do anything — you know — physical, except kiss.”

“Then why do you go with him?”

"I’m not sure. He’s been my friend a long time and I like doing it.”

“Is it fair to him and to you not to know?”

“Probably not.” At that point we came to the corner where we parted and said good bye.

I walked stunned that I couldn’t answer Lupe’s questions. I must be one of the most unreflective people in the world. Later, I went easier on myself and thought it had come to a head while I was still wrapping my mind around losing my dad. I needed to think more about who and what I was.

By that time I'd been on BC pills for about 2 months. I’d noticed my nipples getting swollen and tender. They would have been really sore if my new camis hadn’t prevented them chafing against my shirt. My areolas seemed larger too. My chest looked like a 10-11 year old girl’s. Maybe I was getting tetas. If I pressed hard on my areolas, they hurt, but if I rubbed my nipples gently, I got excited.

Should I call the doctor, as the pharmacist had suggested, or did I like my girlish development? I was getting over the depression from losing my dad, school was over, so I had more time and energy to think. Lupe’s questions gave new urgency to deciding if I was gay. I liked Jason, and the affection and kisses he gave me. I even liked going on dates with him, but I couldn’t see myself getting physical with him — or any other boy for that matter. Dating and kissing might be fun, but Lupe was right, it wouldn't be fair to him or me when he wanted to get intimate.

I wondered if I was transsexual. I liked being maternal — taking care of Liz. I liked my cute curls, smooth legs, round tush filling out my shorts and how my budding breasts felt when I caressed them. I might even want to let them grow, but I didn't hate my penis or want a vagina.

I wasn't sure what I was — other than a sissy. I couldn't deny being a sissy. I liked dressing, acting, and looking like a girl. I thought and talked like a girl, but I still liked my boy parts and didn't want to become female. If I ever got married, it would be to a girl. Once I figured out that I was a sissy, I texted Judy. She responded. “Like Duh. Thats why ur my bestest gf.” I didn't text Jason, because he might misunderstand the kind if sissy I was. I told Kate everything that night as she brushed my hair. She wasn't surprised or shocked. In fact, she was pleased that I'd come to a level of self awareness and acceptance. Still, for me, it was a big admission.

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Comments

Andragyne continues neat story

First time BC writer is looking real good. Good story with patience in developing the story while keeping movement and interest.

Wonder if she's a sissy as being suggested or just truly being a whole person. Nice Story look forward to the next chapter.

Hugs, JessieC

Jessica E. Connors

Jessica Connors

Thanks

dear.

Love, Andra