Her Diary - 1980: October 24th

Author's note: This is written as if it is being transcribed to digital format from a hand written diary. There is no real diary. This is all my work. I hope you like it.

I am not a woman.

Maybe if I tell myself this enough, write it enough, I will actually start to believe it. I can't allow them to destroy my life again. I will write it every day if I have to. I will repeat it every second.

I am not a woman.

Oh how this phrase cuts me. All my dreams for the new decade are shattered by this one phrase. I can't live

I need to get myself under control. I've lived for twenty five years in this body, well almost this body. I can survive for more. But oh how it hurts.

I need to think of the kids. They need me more than I need to change me. I have always been an excellent teacher. I have only been teaching high school for three years, but the parents and students loved me, or so I thought. They loved the idea of me. The male me.

My car still bears the marks of their 'love' for me. I haven't had the time to fix it. I don't have the money any more. I used my savings for her. I spent all of my energy on her. and now she sits in a storage space in boxes.

Her makeup. Her clothes. My life.

I've written about all this before. My shrink says I need to stop dwelling. My shrink is an idiot. I liked my previous shrink better. New city, new life, more bigoted idiots to deal with.

I saw my breasts in the mirror this morning and wound up taking a knife to myself to try to cut them off. They're still less than an A cup, and since my shrink is still not going to give me another prescription for hormones, they aren't getting any bigger. Do I still want them to be bigger?

Cutting them off felt like it would be easier than binding them down before heading into school every day.

Does it even matter? Do these children, other people's children, matter more to me than my own life? Yesterday I would have said yes. I got a knife out of the kitchen this morning. I stopped when I drew blood. It hurt more than my pain at them being there still.

Maybe I will take a bunch of sleeping pills and never wake up. But these children need me. I need them to need me.

What am I writing? I need to break out of it, but there is nothing

I am

I threw my diary across the room. I am glad that there was no one in here to see me this time. Bending down to pick up the book, I feel the hated bandages on my chest again. I want to be me.

I am not a woman.

But, if I am not, then what am I.

I'm really going through with it. It's not worth it any more. I need to just get those pills. I will get them on the way how, and leave this journal here. It will be my note to the world a proof of

I was interrupted. Writing furiously, and I am sure I had a manic gleam in my eye. A student stopped me, but not through any direct intention on his her part.

Why did she talk to me? What have I done to engender this much trust in a student? I'm just her drama teacher, after all. Well, I did do a pretty convincing reading of Lady Macbeth last week. Thank you voice coach.

But why me? Couldn't she have talked to a parent, or school counselor, or pastor, or someone?

Should I even be changing her gender in my mind? I would have loved if someone had done it for me, so I guess I will have to.

She is a slight little thing. I have noticed her in my classes since the beginning of the year. She was always quiet, except when she was on stage.

Why do I have to always be controversial? I let people pick their own roles, and I have had some female Hamlets and Male Juliets a lot this year. Parents have been complaining. Parents should

Actually, it has been just her and the other girls playing the female roles. I hadn't noticed it. Maybe I am not as observant as I once thought.

She wanted to know if she could try out for Catherine in the fall musical. It is Pippin, so I might be able to convince everyone that it is part of the farce of the show.

At least until they see her on stage.

I told her that it would go to the best girl who tried out for the role. I was going to say person, but I wasn't really focusing on that at the moment. I was thinking of how well she had played all of the female roles she had tried in my class.

That is when she told me that she is just as much of a girl as anyone else. This was more than just someone who was an accomplished actor. She thought herself an actress.

My heart broke for her in that moment.

Life for me was tough, but it would be much more so with her. Or would it?

We talked for an hour. I always leave my door open since

I wrote about that before. I don't need to relive THAT again.

(Transcriber's note: There were water stains on this page which I take to have been tears)

We talked about her cross dressing. I gave her some pointers, which I'm sure I shouldn't have done. We talked about makeup that she had stolen. She had a lipstick some eye shadow.

We went to the cabinet. I looked at her skin tone. Tried a bit on her skin. I gave her some of the makeup from the cabinet. I would replace it later. I convinced her to come to me if she needed more. I didn't want her stealing again. None of my clothing would fit her, or I would have given her some. She said she is stealing that too.

Next week I am running some lessons on makeup. Stage makeup of course, but I can get some general makeup techniques in there. All of the girls could use the help.

Talk shifted to Halloween. She had the perfect costume idea, but no clue how to get it done. She was afraid of going into a costume shop.

I thought for a moment and asked her if I could talk to her parents. She looked scared. She mumbled something about her dad not understanding. I told her I was just going to ask permission for her costume. I told her I could make it for her. She gave me a quick hug which made me uncomfortable. I couldn't have a repeat

She still looked scared, but she gave a timid nod.

I smiled at her, and called her home number. Her dad answered. I told him who I was, and what I did, and told him, simply and matter of factly, what his daughter (I used her boy name) wanted to be for Halloween. He laughed at that, and said he thought it was a really good idea.

I asked him why he thought so.

He said something that shocked me, but I don't think I let it show.

He told me that he had known that his son was trying to act like his daughter. Her mannerisms and choice in reading sort of tipped him off to begin with, but it was when his friend, who managed the local Sears, called him and told him that Andrew (her name) was caught shoplifting some clothing and makeup that he knew for sure. He had set up a tab with his friend after that, and all of his daughter's thefts had been deducted from that tab.

The last thing he said made me understand him a bit, "I think it's a great idea. Either he will look a fool, and the ridicule of his friends will knock these ideas out of his head, or he will pass and they will begin to accept him for who he thinks he is."

I smiled at that. I told her to come back after school and we could get started. I would need to pick one of the other students to measure her. I hate the fact that it is

I forgot to tell her father about the musical. I will have time for that later. He has a really nice sounding None of that, Grace, I don't need another heartache in my life right now, and he's probably a married man. Am I insane talking about myself in the third person, and with my female name?

First bell. The day begins

(Transcriber's note: I need to scan her break lines and use it as an image. They really capture a bit of her.)

That was probably the longest day I have ever had. I feel excitement for the first time in a while. I feel like last Christmas, knowing that I would be opening myself as a present to the world. Before

I won't let that get me down. Nothing is going to get me down.

I haven't made a ball gown since college. Yeah, I made all of the costumes for a couple of productions. I'm awesome.

I talked to Julie in my fifth period set design class and she agreed to stay after school. She drives herself so I knew she would still be able to get home after without

She is measuring Andrew as I write this, and both of them are giggling about it. I wonder

I will not interfere in the lives of others. Especially when they can manage well enough on their own.

(Transcriber's note: There is an ink splatter on the page here. Talking to the writer, she told me that she loved the feel of a fountain pen on paper, and so she always writes her diary with a fountain pen.)

I'm shocked. I knew that they were getting along, but they've concocted something that will might just get Andrew through this in one piece. She asked him to the Halloween dance, and they will be in matching gowns.

After Andrew left, we talked cloth and color. I think that Julie has twigged to me a bit, but hopefully she just thinks I'm gay. The alternative

I don't know that being gay will be better than transitioning, but who knows in this day and age. Especially since my Laney left me last week. Crap.

I will not let this get me down.

We finally decided that having the gowns in the same pattern, but different colors, would be the best. Andrew really wanted a pale yellow, so we decided to do Julie's in blue. They wanted to be noticed. I still had my old wig in storage. I would have to get it out and see if it was still good

Julie has the measurements of Andrew's head. She is smaller than I am. I would have a custom wig made for her. Real human hair. It's expensive, but I can match it to her current hair color.

Julie had cut a lock of his hair.

She is giving me a weird look as I write while we talk. I will pick it up later.

(Transcriber's note: curlicue. I need a better scanner.)

I am home, and I have taken off the bandages. I let my chest breathe and look at my small breasts. They are mine and I am happy they are still there. It was only a shallow cut I made this morning, and I hope it doesn't scar.

Julie's mom went through chemotherapy. She lost her hair and they had given her a wig matched to her hair color and length for Christmas.

I never knew this about Julie. She was always such an upbeat and bright student. She ran the tech crew last year, and I saw no reason to change that for this year. She seems so together, but she cried a bit when talking about the difficulties her mom was going through with her cancer treatment. The doctors are afraid that she is going to die.

I won't let this get me down, because

Julie is

I think that Julie and Andrew can help each other cope with the problems that life loves to dish out. They'll probably just be good friends, but an old maid can hope.

I still think of myself as a woman after months trying to fight it.

I am a woman, and the world better watch out, because I will not let them beat it out of me. I will change this world one student at a time.

I am off to bed. I need to get a new shrink. One student in her time of need has helped me more than the last three months with this quack.

I think I will get my nightgowns out of storage tomorrow.