Edited by Victor G.
16 year old Darren (Nancy) Peterson and his mom pay a visit to Dr. Girardi, a psychiatrist who specializes in transgender issues. Afterwards, Nancy has dinner alone with her father and asks his advice.

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Chapter 8
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When I woke up Tuesday morning, it felt like Christmas had arrived early. I still had to go to school and football practice, but not until later in the day. This morning was devoted all to Nancy, and I couldn't wait. I still had my date with Tim Moreland looming, but that was like five days away. The only thing on my mind was becoming Nancy again and presenting myself to Dr. Girardi as her. I was actually excited at the thought.

I took a luxurious bubble bath, taking extra time to carefully shave my legs and under my arms. After drying myself completely, I prepped myself for the coming delicious transformation into a middle-aged woman. As I glued my breast forms to my chest, I studied my face for any signs of hairs on my cheek or chin. Seeing none, I felt so thankful to be a late bloomer and hoped my delayed puberty would benefit me when it came time to start female hormone therapy. I prayed that Dr. Girardi would see fit to prescribe them to me. I hoped she'd understand.

Thoughts of female hormones and what they could do for me flooded my head as I slipped my padded girdle over my slim hips. Oh, to be cushy like a real woman! The six pack on my abdomen mocked me as I pulled on my half slip. Except for the mandatory calisthenics in football practice, I had begun neglecting my daily exercise routines. I didn't want to be obese but I did long for an older woman's slightly flabby belly, just to make the illusion that much more realistic.

I sat on the bed and rolled a pair of dark, sheer pantyhose up my legs before choosing an outfit to wear from my closet. I chose a navy blue stylish skirt and jacket ensemble with a lovely burgundy button-down blouse to go with it. I picked out a pair of navy blue pumps with 3-inch heels to complete the outfit. I smiled, thinking the combination would make me look stylish, yet properly matured and middle aged for Dr. Girardi.

I slipped in my green-tinted, non-prescription contact lenses and made my way back to my vanity. I sat down and pulled on the tight nylon wig cap over my head. I lit a cigarette and started to work on applying my latex wrinkles, followed by a careful, painstaking application of my makeup.

What a wonderful morning ritual, I thought as I watched my face slowly transform into that of a beautiful middle-aged woman.

******

My appointment with Dr. Girardi was for 10 AM, but Mom and I arrived a half hour early so that I could update my records. While I waited for my mom to check us in, I had a seat, making sure to smooth my skirt under me as I sat. I crossed my legs femininely and elegantly and looked around the waiting room .

There were five other people waiting with us. The oldest was a woman who was actually born a guy. I didn't know if she was pre-op, post-op or what, but I could tell she had started HRT later in life, if at all. Nothing against her, but if I was going to do HRT, then I wanted to start sooner rather than later.

I saw two women who were mothers, each had their children with them and they sat on opposite ends of the room. One child appeared to be a ten-year-old girl. She looked to pretty and far too young to be a boy going through transition, but I didn't know and I certainly wasn't going to ask.

The other mother had a boy with her who looked to be around five years old or so. He was playing with Legos and throwing them all over the room while his mother just rolled her eyes in exasperation. The kid was an absolute hellion. I wondered it if it was possible that mother of the 5 year old terror was taking him to Dr. Girardi to have him turned into a girl.

All I knew about these people were just guesses and assumptions. However, I was probably willing to wager cash money on the assumptions I'd made.

I'd only met Dr. Girardi four other times in my whole life, so I didn't know her well. However, she seemed to be a doctor of high standards. I didn't want to think she'd turn a little boy into a little girl just because his mother wanted a daughter.

My mom sat down with the pen and clipboard and began filling out forms and answering questions on them. Sometimes she'd ask me for my input and other times she'd just write down the answers herself. I read all the questions as she answered them.

The name, address, phone and birthday stuff went fast. When she got to the "Reason For Visit" part, she wrote M-F, HRT. There was a half-page list of diseases that I didn't have, each of which she checked "No." And then she got to the smoking and drinking part.

Does the patient drink? If so, how much? My mother checked the yes box and wrote "2 drinks per week". I wondered if that would increase - within reason, of course - once I was able to live as Nancy full-time and could drink "legally." Well, looking the way I did, who would card me?

Is the patient a smoker? If so, how much? Mom checked the yes box and asked, "Should I put down a pack a day?" I nodded and whispered in my older female voice, "Yes." I was still a little nervous, and the question made me think of the Virginia Slims in my purse. I felt like slipping outside for one before meeting Dr. Girardi, but remained in my chair.

Mom completed the rest of the questions and signed on the dotted line before returning the clipboard to the receptionist. As she was walking back to sit down beside me, I noticed she had stolen the pen. My mom has pens from every business in town. She says the businesses want their customers to take them because its advertising. I don't know about that, but we sure have a lot of pens around the house.

About fifteen minutes later, the nursed called out "MIss Peterson?", indicating that that Dr. Girardi was ready to see me. I laid the copy of Woman's Day back on the table and rose to my feet. As I made my way toward Dr. Girardi's office, I felt proud of myself for the graceful way I walked in my heels. In spite of my nervousness, I felt like a confident, mature woman.

I didn't invite my mom to go back with me but she was there by my side as the nurse led us past three examination rooms to Dr. Girardi's office at the end of the hall. Dr. Girardi was sitting at her desk and stood to greet us.

"Hello, Darren. It's been a while," Dr. Girardi said as she shook my femininely-manicured hand and then looked down at my paperwork. "Or would you prefer that I called you Nancy?" she asked.

"Yes, please. I would prefer that," I said in my "Nancy" voice.

Dr. Girardi looked at me curiously, as if studying me. "I think your voice is a nice touch," she said. Have you worked on it long?"

"Yes, I have. Months, in fact, in the privacy of my bedroom. I hope it's believable."

Dr. Girardi nodded. "Very much so. Well done! And I must admit that you look beautiful. I'm even a little jealous."

I smiled. "Thank you. It's not easy. There's a lot of work involved in turning me from Darren to Nancy."

Dr. Girardi continued to study my face. "Did you do your make-up yourself or did your mom help?"

"No. She did it herself," my mother said proudly. I smiled at her in gratitude.

"And your outfit? Very stylish. Did you put it together?" Dr. Girardi asked.

"All Nancy," my mom said with a loving smile.

Dr. Girardi looked me in the eyes. "I don't recall you having green eyes, Darren."

I reached up to remove my glasses so she could see my eyes better. "They're colored contacts."

Dr. Girardi smiled. "So, non-prescription contacts and non-prescription glasses? Isn't that a bit of overkill?"

I shrugged. "I thought it would be a nice twist, another layer of disguising Darren and bringing Nancy that much more to life."

Dr. Girardi jotted down some notes on a pad, then set it aside and leaned on her desk. "Well, you've done a fantastic job all around. If I didn't have your records in front of me, I'd say you were a genetic woman in her mid to late 40's."

"Thank you very much," I said. "That's exactly how I want to look."

Dr. Girardi gestured for us to sit, which we did, then made her way around her desk. She looked over my records. "So, am I to understand that you've given your situation a lot of thought and have decided to move forward with becoming a woman?"

"Yes ma'am, I have, but I want want to look a lot older."

Dr. Girardi smiled gently. "Nancy, I think you should simply call me 'doctor'. I appreciate Darren's instinctive courtesy, but it seems out of place for a woman of your apparent age. Don't you agree?"

I nodded and sat up in a more feminine manner, crossing my legs. "Yes, doctor."

"And you think your life would be more fulfilling if you skipped over the years between 17 and say 45?"

"Yes, doctor, I do. It's all I've ever wanted."

Dr. Girardi looked up from the papers on her desk and said, "As you know, I've already discussed the possibility of you transitioning into a mature woman with your parents. It's not the most conventional transition I've encountered, but from what I can tell, I think you would be considerably happier living as an older woman. I will say however, that I didn't expect to see you in my office again so soon."

I told her I didn't have to think about it any more because I had been thinking about it all my life. "Dr. Girardi," I began with conviction, choosing my words carefully, "I want to start female hormone therapy while I'm still young. Well, that is, young on the inside. Before my face starts changing. I don't want to end up looking like a man in a dress."

Dr. Girardi nodded. "I think your concerns are quite valid, Nancy," she replied. "And I do think it would be in your best interest to begin transitioning now."

She paused for a moment, choosing her words to make sure I understood.

"However," she began, "We need to discuss some concrete realities. I can't give you a magic hormone pill that is going to turn you into an older woman overnight. I believe you'll get the fastest and best results if we use a combination of different approaches. It's also very important that you understand the risks and know what to expect."

"I've read a lot about HRT on the internet," I said.

Dr. Girardi smiled and said, "I know you have. Your parents showed me your computer. But this is real life - not the fantasyland of the Internet. And since I'm your doctor, I think we should discuss the ramifications and consequences along with the benefits."

Mom and I both agreed that knowing as much as could wouldn't be a bad thing.

"There are two aspects we need to consider during your transition," Dr. Girardi said. "There's the psychological aspect of a teenage boy suddenly becoming an adult woman and there's the physical side. I don't know what you've read on the web, but female hormones aren't candy. They're deadly serious business and they will permanently alter your body."

I nodded my understanding. I knew that none of this was going to be easy, but I still desperately wanted to go forward with this. Anything to live as Nancy!

"But for right now," Dr. Girardi continued, "I want to focus on the psychological aspect of your transition. First of all, its very important that you have a support group of older women that you can socialize with."

She turned to my mom and asked, "Karen. Do you have any close friends your age that would accept Nancy's situation?"

"Yes, I do," my mother said excitedly. "Margie Jackson and Susan Estes are my two best friends. I've told them both about Darren's... situation... over the weekend and they're looking forward to meeting him as Nancy. As a matter of fact, I gave Nancy a book so that she could learn to play bridge with us."

"Excellent," Dr. Girardi said and then she turned to me and said, "Nancy, you'll need to start spending a lot of 'girl time' with your mother and her friends. It's extremely important for you to be able identify with older women other than your mother. Karen can teach you only so much, and the more time you spend with her friends as well, the more you'll feel like one of them and learn from them. That will have a profound effect on how others see you. Does that make sense?" she asked.

I told her it did and admitted that I was looking forward to it. I thought for a moment, how it would be to spend time with Margie and Susan as Nancy. To be treated as one of them... one of the girls. I shivered with excitement at the thought.

"Excellent," Dr. Girardi said. "Now we need to get a little more personal. I know you're still young, but have you been able to determine your sexual preference? By that I mean do you think you might be gay, or straight, or possibly even bisexual?"

For a fleeting moment, I thought of my upcoming date with Tim Moreland and how nice it felt to flirt with him in the park. This caused me to pause for a moment before answering, a pause that wasn't lost on either my mother or Dr. Girardi.

Gathering my thoughts, I replied that I was straight and that I liked girls. I saw Dr. Girardi raise an eyebrow and jot something down on a notepad, but she didn't interrupt me.

I began to be concerned that Dr. Girardi was too ethical to prescribe female hormones to a crossdresser, and I didn't want her to see me as such. In order for this to work, she had to believe I was really transgendered. In reality, I was somewhere in the middle between crossdresser and transgendered.

I continued on, telling her what I thought she wanted to hear. "I've only had sex with girls my age," I said. "But I do have a date with an older man this Saturday night."

Dr. Girardi looked up suddenly, her interest piqued. "Now we're getting somewhere." she said. "What's this man's name?"

I thought about Tim for a moment. How comforting it was to talk to him, how he made me feel when he shook my hand and lit my cigarette. How handsome I had to admit that I found him, in spite of myself.

"Tim Moreland," I said with a fond smile. "He's about 50 years old. He's a lawyer and is divorced. He has a son who's the same age as my little brother. I met him at the park when I took Sammy to play with his friends when I was dressed as Nancy."

"That's wonderful," Dr. Girardi said. "It means you're receptive to transitioning into an older woman's lifestyle. Psychologically speaking, it's important that you fit in and feel comfortable. If I legitimately thought that becoming an older woman was going to cause you harm, I would not advise you to continue."

"I want to fit in," I said. "I want to do everything that older women do. That's why I'm learning how to play bridge, so I can play with my mom and her friends and be one of them."

"I think that's an excellent idea," Dr. Girardi said. "What about your expectations for you appearance?"

I told her I didn't understand the question.

"If I may be blunt, do you want to look like a drop dead gorgeous porn star or do you want to look like an average housewife?"

Now that I understood the question, I didn't hesitate in answering it. "Neither. I mean, Of course I want to look pretty but I don't want to look like a porn star. I want to look like a real woman. You know like my mom." I looked over at my mom and said, "No offense, Mom. I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world, but you don't look like a porn star."

Mom smiled, squeezed my hand, and assured me that she wasn't offended.

I turned back to Dr. Girardi and passionately described the way I wanted to look. "I don't have kids and I know I'll never give birth, but I want to look like I had kids. I even told Tim that I had a daughter in college. I'd want to have big wide hips and a large butt. I want my body to be soft and curvy. I also want to have big boobs like the size of these breast forms," I said as I squeezed my left breast. "They should be pert though, like a girls. I want them to look like I used them for feeding babies. And my arms! They're too lean and muscular. I want them to be bigger but without any muscle definition."

"What about your skin?" Dr. Girardi asked. "Your make-up is wonderful. I'm assuming you used something like latex to create the wrinkle effect, but your skin is too young looking. It's too smooth and tight to pass for a woman your mother's age."

"I know," I said excitedly. "Is there a way to change that?"

"There are three things you can start doing right now that will age your skin and you're already doing one of them," Dr. Girardi said. "I read your patient information file and saw where you've started smoking."

I couldn't see myself in the mirror, but I was sure my expression went from excited to distraught. Was Dr. Girardi going to lecture me to quit smoking?

"As a doctor, I can't say anything positive about smoking," Dr. Girardi said. "As a matter of fact, I highly recommend you stop as soon as possible. In fact, Karen, I'm a little disappointed that you've allowed it."

Mom slouched defensively in her chair.

"She didn't at first, doctor," I said, coming to her rescue. "In fact, she was totally against it. However, it's such a part of my identity as Nancy, she eventually gave in."

Dr. Girardi scowled slightly. "I understand. That being said, your smoking is going to play a role in how we approach your hormone therapy. At the moment, though, we're talking about aging your skin, and smoking will definitely do that for you."

"Really," I said. "What about the other things I can do?"

"Sun light is terrible for the skin," Dr. Girardi said. "If you want your skin to appear older, you should probably become a regular tanning bed customer. I think it would also help to wipe ammonia on your skin every now and then. Don't over do it because you'll burn your skin, but it will help with the aging process."

My mother spoke up and asked, "How long would it take before she could stop using the late applicances she's wearing now?"

Dr. Girardi thought for a moment. "Without cosmetic surgery? I'd say two or three years if she puts a lot of effort into it. Without much effort, though, aging process will still happen, but at a slower rate. It might take up to ten years or more before she'll be able to live her life without using extreme make-up."

She looked at me to emphasize her point. "It's entirely up to Nancy how long the aging will take. She could do it naturally or she could get immediate results from a plastic surgeon. In the meantime, we need to talk about HRT. Under normal circumstances, I'd prescribe estrogen, progesterone and antiandrogens. However, since Nancy is a fairly heavy smoker, we should probably take a different path. Large does of female hormones and smoking just don't mix. I'm not saying it will give you cancer, but it greatly increase your chances."

"Does this mean Nancy should quit smoking?" my mother asked, a hint of motherly concern creeping in to her voice.

"By all means, if this were a perfect world," Dr. Girardi said, "However, this isn't a perfect world. Do your friends smoke?"

"Margie and Susan, my best friends, do," my mother said.

"I see," Dr. Girardi said, and then she turned to me and said, "Nancy, why did you start smoking?"

I used the canned answer that my mother and I had prepared earlier. "I was nervous about people seeing me dressed as a woman," I said, "I thought smoking would help relax me."

Dr. Girardi frowned. "I don't buy that for a second," she said sternly, tossing her pen down on the desk and crossing her arms over her chest. "Smoking make you think you're relaxed and at ease, but I don't think that's the reason you started. You're an athlete and you're far too good at sports to make a dumb decision like that. I think it was something else that made you start."

"Well don't look at me," my mother said. "I never wanted either of my sons to smoke Their father and I preached against it from the time they were old enough to walk."

"I know you didn't want Darren to start," Dr. Girardi said, "But you did play a big role in it, even though you didn't intend to. You're his role model. He looks up to you an he's always wanted to be like you. Nancy started smoking because you and your friends smoke. It's an identification mechanism, a way to connect with you and your friends."

I groaned silently because I didn't like the way things were going. I knew my reasons for wanting to be a woman and for wanting to smoke were suspect, which is why I'd been stingy with the information.

Dr. Girardi continued, still in her stern mode. "My job as a psychiatrist is to answer the questions of how, what, and why. I then take those answers and try to form the best possible outcome for my patient. As a medical doctor, I don't like that Nancy is smoking, not one bit. However, as a psychiatrist, I understand that smoking is tied to Nancy's body image, and thus her success as an adult woman."

She got up from her chair and walked around the desk to stand in front of me. She leaned back on her desk.

"We wouldn't be having this conversation if I wasn't absolutely certain that Darren needs to be female. And, speaking on the record, he is not transgendered in the classical sense. His 'hows, whats and whys' are vastly different from any of my other patients. That doesn't make them wrong, just unique to Darren and Nancy.

"I'm not in the business of changing boys into girls. I don't encourage or support my patients transitioning unless I believe it will improve their lives. I'm sure you saw those two children in the waiting room. The girl was a boy who needed to be a girl. The little boy, however, does not need to be a girl. He's here because his mother wants a daughter. I'm not treating her son, I'm treating her. I'm telling you this because I want you to know that I don't take Darren's situation lightly.

"I truly believe there will be devastating consequences if Darren grows into a man. His feelings and urges about becoming an older woman are permanent. By ignoring his needs, we'd be setting him up for regret, depression, broken marriages, and possibly even suicide.

"Unfortunately, he'll face the same risks if we allow him to transition into a woman who meets our criteria instead of his own. I'm convinced Darren needs to be a woman. I'm also convinced his nature will prevent him from finding happiness and success as a woman unless he's allowed to pattern his life on yours," she said as she looked at my mother.

"But don't you think she should be her own woman instead of a carbon copy of me?" my mother asked.

"No, I don't," Dr. Girardi said, "And this is why. Nancy is my patient and she knows she needs to be like you. Whether you believe it or not, you're my patient too. I understand you're grieving over this but I also expect a part of you is very excited and even flattered. My job for you is to help you accept and enjoy your son's transition with pride and joy instead guilt and remorse. Do you understand that?"

My mother nodded. "I understand, but I feel like you're making it too easy on me."

"This is happening because of you," Dr. Girardi said, "But it's not your fault. There's no reason for you to feel guilty, but I do need for you to be happy for Nancy. And I need for you to start seeing her as your friend and your peer. Do you think you can do that for Nancy?"

Mom sniffed and wiped a tear from her eye. "Of course I can. I've already started. I just love her so much, I'll do anything for her," she said.

"And as for you," Dr. Girardi said as she turned her attention back to me, "Don't think you can pick and choose the parts of your mother that you want to be like and disregard the rest. I know that would be convenient and fulfilling in the short term, but we need to focus on the long term because that's what this is about. We're not talking about you becoming a woman for summer vacation and then flipping a swtich and going back to being a boy when school starts. We're talking about you becoming a woman for the rest of your life. Look at your mom and think about her. I mean it, take a look at her."

I looked at my mom.

"How old is she?" Dr. Girardi asked.

"46," I said.

"Is she fat, skinny, or somewhere in-between?"

I studied Mom for a moment, not wanting to answer the wrong way. Of course, she was neither fat nor skinny. "She's in-between."

"Describe her habits and some other things about her."

"She smokes. She drinks coffee. She likes an occasional margarita or glass of wine. She likes ice cream. She hangs out with her friends a lot."

I smiled at her. "And she's completely obsessed with keeping the house clean."

Mom laughed and squeezed my hand. "I try."

Dr. Girardi nodded. "I see. And who is she married too?"

"My dad."

"And he's a man?"

"Of course!"

"Describe your father's habits and some other things about him."

That answer didn't come quite as naturally as the one for my mom did. I had to think for a moment. "He likes beer and watching sports. He plays golf on the weekends when he can. He eats too much sometimes. He loves his family. He's going bald on top. He works a lot. I know there's probably more but I can't think of them right now."

"Does your mother love him?"

"Yes."

"Does you mother have children?"

"Yes. Me and Sammy."

"Do you want to be like your mother?"

I looked at Mom admiringly. "Yes. More than anything in the world," I said, hoping they both understood how much I meant it.

"Then you have to be like her all the way," Dr. Girardi said, "Which means you'll need to be open to the idea of marrying a man some day and having a family."

I should have seen that coming, but I didn't. I was overcome with a cold chill and I felt sick to my stomach. I had always imagined myself as an older woman and sometimes I'd even fantasized about having sex with men, but those were just fantasies because I really didn't feel that way. I had never imagined myself being married to a man and having a family of my own.

I started to understand Dr. Girardi's comments about consequences. I was just picking and choosing the parts about my mom's life that I envied. I was thinking about the short term instead of the long term. I was thinking about the thrills of breaking taboos instead of being happy and productive on an everyday basis.

I was now seeing the big picture. This wasn't about me being "like" a woman. This was about me becoming a complete woman for real and I was playing for keeps. I felt completely overwhelmed, but at the same time hopeful and happy, even though I was scared to death at the same time.

"Do the both of you understand what I'm saying?" Dr. Girardi asked.

My mother and I both nodded.

"That's good," Dr. Girardi said. "That means I can take off my psychiatrist hat and put on my medical doctor's hat. We need to come up with a solution that will allow Nancy to become the woman she needs to be without the female hormones starting a war over her smoking. Which I still don't approve of, but so be it.

"I've given this a lot of thought and I think it would be in Nancy's best interest if we scheduled an orchiectomy as soon as possible. Dr. Lipinski could do the surgery and the procedure would take less than two hours. She'd still need to take hormones, but she'd get the same effect with a lower dose. Its the most economical and healthy alternative I can advise."

I'd never heard the word orchiectomy before so I asked what it meant.

"It's the medical term for castration," Dr. Girardi said calmly.

Again, I should have seen something like this coming, but I didn't. I was shocked, surprised and very scared. "So getting castrated is when they cut off your penis?" I asked.

Dr. Girardi laughed. "No, Nancy. Your SRS surgeon will do that later. Castration means removing the testicles from your scrotum. You probably call them 'nuts' or 'balls'. It's a simple procedure but also a very important one. Your doctor will need to leave enough skin for your SRS surgeon to be able to create a vagina for you."

My mother asked some questions while I digested what Dr. Girardi had said about a surgeon making a vagina from my leftover scrotum. I'd never thought about getting a full sex change before, but Dr. Giardi was talking about it like it was on a list of things to do. Wash the car. Got to the grocery store. Get your balls chopped off. Lose your dick and get a vagina. I was horrified, terrified, and even a little excited!

"So you're saying we should start preparing our selves for a full sex change surgery," my mother asked.

"It's best to have SRS done within two years of the orchiectomy," Dr. Girardi said. "You could wait longer, but I don't see any benefit to putting it off. Skin around the scrotum tends to shrink noticeably within two years of castration. Nancy's surgeon will need as much scrotum skin as possible to make a vagina for her. The extra skin will also make it easier for Nancy to reach sexual climax when a man has intercourse with her. I will warn you that SRS isn't cheap but you will be saving a lot of money by getting the orchiectomy and using less hormones and blockers. Do you foresee a problem paying for SRS, because most insurance companies don't want to pay for it. And if they do pay for it, you could be in for a long wait to get approval for the surgery."

It was a good thing Dr. Girardi was talking to my mother because I was speechless. Dr. Girardi was talking about me getting a vagina and being fucked by a man. I hadn't thought of either of those things that day in the kitchen when Mom said she was going to help me become an older woman. I was obviously scared but on the other hand, having a real vagina of my own would make me that much more like my mother and her friends.

"I don't think we'll have a problem paying for the surgery," my mother said. "My husband's mother left a very sizable trust fund for Darren and Sammy after she died. They were supposed to use it for college, but my husband and I gave Darren the choice of using it for college or becoming a woman."

"I'm relieved to hear money won't be an issue," Dr. Girardi said.

"How long will something like this take?" my mother asked. "I know you said we can get Nancy the orchiectomy now, but doesn't a person have to wait at least a year before she can get a full sex change?"

"In this country, a year is fast track," Dr. Girardi said. "It usually takes two years or more to get approval for SRS. That's why a lot of my transgender patients opt to have the surgery done outside the country. I'm not suggesting rushing into this, but you asked how fast it could happen. If everyone was agreeably impatient, Nancy could get an orchiectomy and cosmetic surgery during the Thanksgiving holidays in Mexico. She could then go back over Christmas and get her SRS. But as I said earlier, I'm not suggesting or encouraging this."

"Why wouldn't she want to do it as fast you described?" my mother asked.

"Speed transitioning wouldn't be a problem from a medical standpoint. I'm more concerned about Nancy's psyche. I wouldn't want her body rushing into something her mind isn't ready to handle."

My stress level jumped off the chart! I hadn't even been thinking about getting breasts of my own until the summer and now Dr. Girardi was saying I could have the body of a woman by Christmas!

"If I had the surgery down in Mexico this Christmas, could the doctors make me look older too, you know with aging the skin and all the weight in the right places?" I asked.

"Absolutely, and they should. They could age your skin without you having to risk skin cancer in a tanning bed," Dr. Girardi said. "Of course you'll still need to take female hormones."

"How long will he need to take the hormones?" my mother asked.

"Until she's 52 and that's in Darren's birth years - not 'Nancy' years," Dr. Girardi said. "And another thing, once Nancy starts taking female hormones, she can't stop, especially if she gets an orchiectomy. Stopping HRT could be very damaging to her health."

"What happens if I get the orchiectomy and put off getting the sex change?" I asked. "Will I still be able to masturbate if I don't have balls?"

Dr. Girardi asked me how many times a week I masturbated.

"I don't know, but its about 3 times a day so I guess that makes 20 times a week maybe."

"You have a high sex drive," she said. "But it will probably diminish considerably after you're castrated."

"But can I still have orgasms?" I asked.

"I can't say for certain because everyone is different, but it is possible. However, you'd definitely have to work harder at it than you are now, which is why I think you'd benefit from anal stimulation."

"Anal sex?" I asked.

"Yes, until you're vagina has been dilated enough for penetration. With a little practice, you can learn to stimulate your prostate region and I suspect that kind of orgasm would be more rewarding than masturbation with your penis. Unfortunately, the opportunity for anal orgasms won't last forever because female hormones shrink the prostate."

"Are you saying that Nancy's best hope for having orgasms is by having sex with a man as a woman?" my mother asked.

Dr. Girardi nodded at my mom. "Vaginal intercourse with either a man or a device will provide the most sexual relief for Nancy. And given her age, even with the reduced libido, she's going to desire sex more frequently than genetic middle-aged women."

"If that's the case, I don't see the point in putting off her surgery in Mexico. SRS sounds like something she should do right away," my mother said.

"I think I'd have to agree with you," Dr. Girardi said.

"Can she get castrated in Mexico at the same time as her SRS?" my mother asked.

"No. Nancy's body is going to need some time to make the adjustment from male to female hormones. Her SRS recovery time would be faster and less painful if you could wait at least three weeks after the orchiectomy."

"Of course there is school to consider. I don't think she'd want to go back to school after Thanksgiving with breasts," my mother said.

"If Nancy is going to do this right away, it would be in her best interest to drop out of school and start working on getting her G.E.D." Dr. Girardi said.

"I was thinking she could get her real estate license like me," my mother said. "And she'd need a high school diploma or a G.E.D. before she could take the Realtor's exam."

"What about football?" I asked. "We got one more regular game left and then we start playoffs."

"Football should be the least of your worries," Dr. Girardi said. "You'd be weaker and less aggressive if you started therapy before the season is over. Or you could wait until the season is over before you begin therapy. But as I was saying, football should be the least or your worries."

"But I made a commitment to my coaches and the team," I said.

"Your commitment didn't prevent you from taking up smoking. Did it?" Dr. Girardi asked.

"No," I said sheepishly.

Dr. Girardi sighed and said, "All of the choices we've been discussing are up to you, Nancy. I can't tell you what to do or when to do it. However, I don't think its good for your mental health to have one foot in football cleats and the other in high heels at the same time. I think that if you want to play football, you should stop dressing up as a woman until your season is over."

"That makes a lot of sense," my mother said. And then she turned to me and said, "You have a lot of things to think about, Honey."

******

Mom and I left Dr. Girardi's office with a prescription for low dose estrogen, progesterone and an androgen blocker.

The unspoken race to find our cigarettes began as soon as were seated and buckled in. For the first time in my life I understood what it felt like to need a cigarette. Lighting my cigarette was neither a choice or a habit. It was all about self preservation. It was official, I was a nicotine addict just like my mom and her friends.

The original plan was for me to go back home and change for school, but I was having a lot of second thoughts about that. My session with Dr. Girardi had been intense and I was still in a state of shock. I remembered what she said about football and how it should be the least of my worries.

I blew a puff of smoke out the window and said, "I don't want to go back to school today."

"It's okay, honey. I don't blame you. What about tomorrow?"

"I don't know, but I don't think so. There's too much to think about," I said. "There's no way I'd be able to concentrate in class after today."

"I know we talked about you leaving school after this year, but I'm starting to think it might be best if you dropped out now."

"Maybe. I don't know," I said. "So what do you think about me getting a sex change operation over Christmas in Mexico? Do you think its too soon?"

"I think it's fast but I don't think its necessarily too fast. It does sound like it would save a lot of money if you're sure you want to do this, but I wouldn't use money as a reason for your decision. It's hard to believe that you can be just like me in less than two months. You'd be going from 16 to 46 in the blink of an eye and you wouldn't be able to go back- ever. You understand that, don't you?"

"I do and it makes me feel good when I think about it."

"You're not scared?" my mother asked.

"Are you kidding? I'm freaking petrified. I mean, I want it like I've never wanted anything in my life, but the crazy thing is, and I've never said this to you before, but I don't know why I want it. I just know that I do."

"Really?"

I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Yeah, really. It's the honest to God truth."

"Then why are we even talking about doing this if you don't know why you want to do it?"

I asked her if she remembered Dr. Giardi saying that I wasn't classically transgendered.

"I heard her say that, but I didn't know what she meant."

"She was saying that I'm not like a girl living in a boy's body the way most people think about transgendered. But she said I still needed to be a woman and that meant so much to me when she said that. You don't know how guilty I've been feeling because I'm not like what people think I should be like. I'm different and I've got different reasons for wanting to do this. Some of them I don't even understand, but Dr. Girardi said that was okay. It made me feel that I'm not any less of a person for wanting the things I want."

"Are you telling me that you're willing to change your entire life for something you don't really understand?"

I took a puff from my cigarette and exhaled out the window. "That's exactly what I'm saying. And Dr. Girardi was saying I'm not crazy for feeling like that."

"But this is such a big thing!" my mother said. "Shouldn't you wait until you know this is really right for you before you go out and do it?"

"That's the thing. It is right, I just don't know why it's right. And Dr. Giardi understood that. I was kind of hoping you would too."

Mom finished her cigarette and threw it out the window. I could tell she was thinking of something to say as she went about the business of replacing her cigarette. I took advantage of the pause in conversation to do the same.

"Do you think it would help if you got a second opinion?" my mother asked.

"From who? Another psychiatrist?"

"No, I was wondering if it might help to talk to Margie and Susan?"

"Mrs. Estes and Mrs. Jackson?"

"I know they're not psychiatrists but they are women," my mother said. "I just think it might help to have another woman's point of view, other than mine."

"Sure! I'd love to talk to them, but are you asking because you're not behind me doing this any more?"

Mom shook her head and said no. "I was in there with Dr. Giardi too," she said, "And I thought everything she said made sense."

"Except for the parts you didn't understand?" I asked sarcastically.

"I don't know. Even those parts seemed to make sense because I was listening with my heart instead of my brain. If it was up to me, I'd drive you down to Mexico today because I believe with all my heart that you need to be a woman, honey. An older woman like me and Susan and Margie. But it's not up to me."

"That all I wanted to hear you say, Karen. I just wanted to make you sure you didn't change your mind."

"Well in that case, I'll call Margie and Susan tonight and ask them to come over tomorrow. If you don't mind missing another day of school."

"That would be fantastic," I said. Then I smiled. "And not for just missing school."

Mom grinned. "I also think we should talk to your Dad about this when he comes home tonight."

"What? You think I should ask him if he thinks I should get a sex change?"

"He expects you to get a sex change at some point. He just doesn't know you're thinking about it so soon. He loves you and he supports you, but this is hard for him. I just think you should show him a little respect by talking to him about it."

"You're right," I said. "I didn't mean to act like a jerk about it."

"Good," my mother said as she pulled into a drug store parking lot. "I'll call him at work and suggest to him that he takes you out to dinner so that the two of you can talk in private."

I paused for a moment. Go out to dinner one-on-one with my father as Nancy? I was a little nervous, but thought it might be a good test run for my date with Tim Moreland. Not that it would be a "date" with my dad, but it would give me an insight into having dinner with an older man as an adult woman. I tossed my cigarette aside and followed my mother into the pharmacy.

After getting my prescription filled, we walked to the front of the store where mom purchased a carton of Marlboro Light 100s for herself and a carton of Virginia Slims Menthols for me.

She handed me my cigarettes and my prescription and said she felt a lot better about me smoking after Dr. Girardi explained the benefits of taking lower doses of my medication.

*******
The first thing Mom and I did once we got home was to celebrate as I swallowed the first three pills.

"You know you'll be doing that every day for the the next 36 years, right?" she asked.

I told her I was looking forward to making a habit out of it. Anything that would bring me closer to my dream of being Nancy full-time.

The next thing I wanted to do was to look at naked women on the the computer. It wasn't because I was horny. I wanted to look because I wanted to see what I was getting into. I had thousands of pictures of older naked women stored on my hard drive. But to tell you the truth, I'd never really studied the anatomy of an older woman from the perspective of really being one.

I knew there was no way to do it without getting caught by mom, so I did something brave and asked for her permission.

"I think that's a good idea," she said. "Would it embarrass you if I looked with you? Or is this something you need to do in private?"

I hadn't really thought of my mother looking at porn with me, but then again, I wasn't going to do it to get off. I was doing it because it was like homework. "I'd like that if you don't think it will bother you," I said.

Mom laughed and asked why it would bother her. "Those women don't have anything that I don't have. God made women standard with boobs and vaginas."

********

My mother and I smoked cigarettes and looked at pictures of naked women in their 40s and 50s for the next hour. It helped me come to terms with the idea of having a vagina instead of a penis. It also gave me some perspective on what I'd really like my body to look like.

We narrowed it down to five pictures of different women who basically had what I wanted.

"Maybe you should save them to a folder and email them to Dr. Giardi," she said. "That way she can send them to the doctors in Mexico."

It sounded like a good idea to me and I did it just like my mother said. As I was attaching the folder to Dr. Girardi's email, I wondered if anyone else had ever sent her naked pictures.

"I know you need to sleep on this for a couple of nights," my mother said, "but what do you think so far?" she asked as she lit a cigarette. "Are you sure you want to look like those women?"

"Actually I want to look like you, but I didn't want to ask you to take your clothes off."

Mom laughed and thanked me for sparing her the request.

I told her I couldn't stop thinking about having a real vagina like hers. "I'm really going to be just like you," I said in disbelief as I lit a cigarette for myself.

"I think you already are like me," she said, "But I do think you'll feel better about your self as a woman once you have a real vagina."

I was telling her how much I was looking forward to it when Sammy came in from school.

Our greetings were cordial enough. Sammy wasn't treating me like a space alien, but at the same time, he wasn't responding to me as if I was his older brother anymore. I supposed that was good, but it was also a little bothersome.

If I had to describe Sammy's reaction to me as an older woman and a smoker, I'd say he was "curious."

He told mom and I about his day and we told him about our visit with Dr. Giardi.

"How are you going to pee if they cut it off?" Sammy asked.

Mom told him it wouldn't be a problem because women sit down when they use the toilet.

******

My night out with Dad started out awkward. He took me to a restaurant about 15 miles away from our house. I'd been there before and the food was good, but I was pretty sure he chose it because we wouldn't see anyone we knew, and that was fine by me. It just made for a long car ride and a lot of silence.

As much as I enjoyed looking like a woman, I couldn't get comfortable in front of my dad. I felt like a sissy and a disappointment.

After we were seated, he ordered a whiskey and soda. I ordered a glas of Chardonnay. Dad didn't say anything, so I supposed he was fine with me ordering an adult woman's drink.

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes. I then broke the ice by thanking him for all his support. "I know this is hard for you," I said, "And I'm sorry for putting you through it."

"You don't have to apologize," my father said. "I'm the one who should apologize to you. I was a real ass to you when you were younger and I'm real sorry for that."

"It's okay, Dad. You were just doing what you thought was best for me."

"No, I wasn't," my father said. "And thats why I need to apologize. I knew from the start that you wanted to be female, but I did everything I could think of to change your mind. I did the same thing to you that my father did to me."

I choked on my father's words. Was he saying he did the same kind of stuff that I did? Was he saying he was a crossdresser or maybe even something else? "What do you mean?" I asked. "What did your father do to you?"

Dad rubbed his face and shook his head and then he looked me. "You've got to promise me that everything we talk about tonight stays between you and me. And that goes for your mother too. I don't want her hearing about any of this."

I was totally creeped out but I promised to keep his secret- whatever it was.

"I know you want to be like your mom," Dad said. "But its not your mother's fault. It's mine. I'm the reason you feel the way you do. I guess it must be some kind of genetic thing. You're not just like your mother. You're exactly like me."

"What are you trying to say?" I asked. "Do you want to be a woman too?"

"No, not any more. I love my life now as a father and a husband, but when I was your age, I think I probably felt exactly the same way that you do now. Except I wanted to be a girl, I didn't want to be older like you do."

I told him that I didn't believe him. "You're just saying that because you're trying to make me feel better about what I'm doing."

"No. I'm telling you the truth, Nancy. When I was your age, I called myself 'Debbie'. I started wearing my mother's clothes when I was probably 8 or 9. Sounds familiar. Doesn't it?"

I couldn't answer him because I didn't know what to say. The thought of my father doing the kinds of things that I was doing made me sick to my stomach. The man whom I'd respected and looked up to all my life was a sissy like me.

"I punished you because my parents punished me. I tried to make you feel bad because they made me feel bad. I thought they did the right thing because I grew up and became a man and raised a family. I thought I could make you do the same thing."

"What made you change your mind?" I asked.

"A lot of things, but I think jealousy played a big part in it," my father said. "After a while, I realized I was trying to make you stop and turn you around because I was jealous of you. I didn't want you to get what I couldn't get myself when I was your age. I didn't recognize it at first. I just thought I was doing the right thing. But then when I realized I was jealous of you, it made me feel bad and I wanted to fix it."

"Did you really want to be a girl?" I asked.

"Yes I did. And every time I look at you, I think about what my life could have been like, if my parents had been more understanding. I regret not being able to be a girl but I don't' regret being yours and Sammy's father and I don't regret being your mother's husband."

"Dad, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Are you gay?"

"No. But I think I know why you asked. You're scared about being a woman and having relationships with men. Aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am."

"I don't know what to tell you Nancy. You're in a strange place. You're a guy who wants to be a woman, but you're not gay. Are you?"

"I don't think so."

"Then you're probably not."

"But I think about it sometimes," I said. "You know. Being with men."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with that," my father said. "I think it just proves you're serious about being a real woman."

"I've never kissed a man before."

"Neither have I," my father said, "But I think it would be very normal if you did."

"Don't you think that's kind of gross?"

"To be perfectly honest, I do think its gross, but then again, I'm a man and you're about to become a woman. The rules are going to change for you. If you can keep an open mind about it, you might even grow to like it."

"I don't know. Maybe," I said. "It's just that I know I look like a woman on the outside, but on the inside I'm still a boy."

"I get that," my father said. "And I don't think its going to be easy for you because I know it wouldn't be easy for me, but I also think you'll be able to do it when the time comes because you've been able to do everything else. I think you're very courageous and I'm very proud of you," my father said.

I told him about my session with Dr. Giardi and we talked about it over dinner.

"What do you think? Does it seem to fast?" I asked.

"It is fast, but that doesn't make it wrong. However, I think it would be less overwhelming if you just focused on the orchiectomy for now and let all the other pieces fall into place when the time comes."

"What do you think I should do about football and school?" I asked.

"Do you still like playing football?"

"I love it, but right now it doesn't seem as important as it used to. I skipped practice today and I'm going to skip again tomorrow. Mrs. Jackson and Mrs. Estes are coming over and I'm supposed to do woman things with them."

"And doing woman things with the girls is more important than playing football. Isn't it?" my father asked.

"It feels like it," I said.

"And I assume you feel the same way about school."

"It gets in the way big time," I said.

"Do you think you'd feel better about things if I told you to quit the football team and drop out of school?"

"I think I would," I said, "because if you told me what to do then it wouldn't have to be my choice and it wouldn't be my fault."

"Sorry, but I can't let you off the hook so easily," my father said. "Your mom and I will support anything you decide but you've got to be the one to make the decisions."

"Why? Because you don't want me blaming you if this doesn't work out?"

"That's the idea," my father said with a warm smile.

******

I had gone without smoking the entire time I had been with my dad out of respect for him and fear of his disapproval, but as the waiter removed the dishes from our meal, my body began screaming for a dose of nicotine. I surrendered to my withdrawal symptoms by cautiously removing the cigarette case from my purse. "I'm sorry Dad, but I really need a cigarette right now," I said as I daintily extracted a Virginia Slim cigarette from my case. "Do you mind?" I asked nervously as I placed the menthol cigarette between my lips.

"Not at all," he said as he picked up my lighter and held the flame for me. "By the way, you don't have to be embarrassed about smoking in front of me."

I blushed as I exhaled away from him. "I'm trying not to be but its hard," I said.

"You'll get used to it and so will I," my father said. "It's just going to take a little time, but for what it's worth, I think you look very attractive and grown-up when you smoke."

"Really?" I asked excitedly. "Do you really think so?"

It was my father's turn to blush and so he did. "Yes I do," he said, "and I hope you don't think that makes me a pervert or a bad person, but I've always had a thing for attractive women smoking. I guess that's one of the reasons I started dating your mom."

"That's amazing," I said. "I can't believe it."

My dad apologized and said he was out of line. "I never should have said that," he said. "I don't know what got into me. I know its an unhealthy addiction and women don't smoke so that men like me can get their jollies. Please forgive me."

"No Dad. Its okay. Its not like that. When I was a guy, I felt the same way about women smoking as you do. As a matter of fact, that was a big reason why I started."

The expression on my father's face changed from ashamed to confused. "But I thought you started because it helped you relax because you were nervous about wearing women's clothes."

"Yeah, kind of. I mean it does help with that," I said. "But the reason I started in the first place was because I wanted to be like Mom and smoke like a woman."

Dad grinned and shook his head from side to side. "Oh my God," he said. "You really are just like me."

"What do you mean?"

"Once again, any thing I tell you about this has to stay between the two of us. You can't tell anyone. Do I have your word on it?" he asked.

I promised to keep his secrets to myself and take them to my grave.

"I think I know what you mean about wanting to smoke like a woman," he said. "Back when I was a boy during my crossdressing years, I used to pretend to smoke like my mother. Of course I never actually lit a cigarette or smoked it for real, but I pretended I was. Do you think maybe you were doing the same thing?" he asked.

My heart raced as I tried to keep my brain from exploding. I did know what my father was talking about and I told him so. From a general perspective, I knew I wasn't alone in my feelings because I'd read about others like me on the web. However, I never thought I'd meet someone like me face to face and I certainly didn't expect that person to be my father.

"So you never tried smoking?" I asked, "not even with Mom?"

Dad shook his head and said, "I couldn't because I didn't feel worthy."

I gasped because I knew exactly what he was talking about. "Me too!" I said excitedly. "I wanted to but I couldn't. It just didn't feel right."

"Is that just to weird that we'd both feel the same way?" he asked.

I immediately agreed with him and asked him a question of my own. "How come some guys can smoke and get away with it like its no big deal?" I asked.

"I don't know," my father said. "But they can. It's like some guys can smoke like men, but others can't and they have to smoke like women, or they just don't do it at all."

I picked up my cigarette case and tried to hand it to him. "Do you want to try one now?" I asked.

Dad smiled sadly and said," Thanks for asking, but I can't. It just wouldn't feel right and your mother would kill me if she ever found out. Speaking of your mom, we better get back before she thinks something happened to us."