An Obvious Girl, by Karin Bishop

Part 7

Chapter 20. Table for Two?

Nervously I waited for the restaurant to open. I had read and re-read the menu, worked on my Spanish pronunciation of each dish with Mrs. Mendoza, who patted my cheek and told me I’d be fine. She complimented me on how pretty and how grown-up I was.

Part of it was because of Carrie.

We had been looking at tops in Wet Seal when she had an idea.

“You’re going to change at Dillard’s, right?” I nodded and she grinned. “See if your Mom can meet us there at 4:15 or 4:30.”

Obviously, she meant now, so I called and Mom said it would be ‘around 4:20’. At the right time we headed to meet Mom in the perfume section; Carrie and I tried some samples on little white cards while we waited. Carrie said she liked three for me; Narcisse, a Dolce & Gabbana one called ‘Light Blue’, and one called Viva La Juicy. Decisions, decisions!

Mom liked them all and asked for samples–I didn’t know you could do that!–and then Carrie told us her idea: Makeover!

During our time together, she’d asked what makeup I used. I didn’t want to say, ‘Cheap all-in-one kit from Target’ so I said it was a mix. She nodded and said she wished she could afford all M.A.C. but she liked a new youth line from Estée Lauder.

Carrie explained to Mom that I could pick a good, available, reasonable major brand, like Lauder or Clinique, one that was mostly for women. That way I’d get ‘a more mature palette’, and I thought that was a great way to refer to it. Then I should get a makeover for my first night’s impression, and the makeup ladies usually gave tips and discounts. Mom grinned and praised Carrie and then it was down to which brand and availability. Mom said if we promised not to share, for hygiene reasons, we’d do it.

So I was at La Rioja, wearing Estée Lauder makeup, expertly applied, and praying fervently that I remembered all the advice from the makeup lady!

When the makeup lady was done, and after they tore me away from staring at myself in the mirror, we went to the Ladies Lounge–which was like a palace compared to the mall restrooms! I changed into my new work clothes and new flats. I felt transformed yet again; from boy to girl and from girl to almost-woman.

Then Carrie freaked me out.

She said, “You look great, babe! Hey–what are you doing tomorrow? Wanna come over? We got a pool and it’s supposed to be hot.”

Pool …swimsuit …genitalia …

Mom realized it at the same time–or read the panic on my face–and begged off that I was committed to helping ‘a neighbor’.

I rolled my eyes and improvised, “That’s right; I’d forgotten that it’s this weekend.” To Carrie, I said, “It’s this nice lady, used to babysit me, and getting older …”

Carrie said, “I understand. I already told you you’re a good person, Angela!” She grinned. “Sunday, maybe?” Then it was her turn to wince. “Argh! Aunt’s birthday; we’re going over. Thanks for reminding me; you said, ‘getting older’ and I remembered Judy and …Monday, maybe?”

“Sure, I guess …” I said, looking at Mom.

She frowned and said, “I think there’s a doctor’s appointment but I don’t remember what time. She’ll have to call you.”

We left it at that. After hugging Carrie goodbye, in the car I turned to Mom. “A pool! What am I going to do?”

Mom calmly said, “We’re going to find you a wonderful suit, maybe a bikini, and you–”

“Mom! I’m freaking out that she’ll find out the truth about me!”

“And the truth is that you’re a pretty girl, right?” She glanced at me and said, “Honey, you shouldn’t have this on your mind before starting work, but don’t worry; we’ll work out something. But Carrie seems like a wonderful new friend and …we’ll work something out.”

So that was on my mind, waiting for the restaurant to open. Then the first guests came, a couple in their fifties.

I was at my station, cradling menus, and smiling. “Welcome to La Rioja. Bienvenido a La Rioja.” I’d talked it over with Mrs. Mendoza; she liked my idea of English first because most of their customers spoke English, and then Spanish to give the flavor of the place as well as to reassure Spanish-speaking guests.

After that it was guest after guest; it was a Friday night, after all! Mr. Mendoza was watching me and smiling and nodding when I’d look at him. I seated the guests and thanked them when they left. Then there was a lull and I felt awkward just standing there. I didn’t know what the protocol was–we hadn’t discussed it–so I just slowly walked though the crowded restaurant, flicking my eyes to the front to make sure nobody was entering.

As I passed the tables, I smiled and nodded and said, “I hope you’re enjoying your time with us. Thank you for joining us tonight” and things like that. There had been three groups that I’d seated that I knew were Spanish speakers, so I said my things in Spanish and they lit up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw people coming towards the front doors so I made my way up and greeted them and sat them.

It was just starting to slow down again and Mr. Mendoza came up to me. “ ¿Ángela, por qué pasaste por el restaurante antes?” Why did you walk through the restaurant earlier?

I said, “Porque no quería quedarme parado. Y pensé que a los invitados les gustaría.” Because I didn’t want to just stand around. And I thought the guests might like it.

He smiled widely. “Ah, el toque personal! Me gusta esto; muy profesional y muy amistoso. ” Ah, the personal touch! I like it; very professional and very friendly. He nodded and turned back to me with a wicked grin, “ ¡Por supuesto, ¡solo aumentarás la cantidad de caminata que tendrás que hacer!” Of course, you only added to how much walking you'll have to do!

I laughed with him and felt that I’d had the right idea. I also realized that when guests weren’t waiting, I could seat one table and do my hellos on the way back to my hostess station.

The last seating was just before ten–the last by me, I mean. The restaurant would remain open but late guests would have to wait to be seated. The guitarist had started at eight and he was superb; I don’t know if he was a genuine gaucho but he certainly looked like one and the flamenco was gorgeous.

At ten, Santiago came out and grinned at me and crooked his finger. I was brought back into the kitchen and off to the side was a table.

“You get dinner,” he explained. “You didn’t have before; you want it now?”

So that’s what I’d felt–I’d been so busy seating people and worrying about doing a good job that I’d forgotten that I hadn’t had any dinner!

The look on my face said it all, and he grinned and turned away, coming back with a full plate that I knew was easily thirty bucks on the menu. I started the no-no thing, but he told me to eat. I said I really shouldn’t, and he grinned and said to call it research–I’d know what the guests were having! I couldn’t argue with that so with a big glass of ice tea, I had a feast.

Mrs. Mendoza came and sat across from me, very happy with me, and suggested I come a half-hour early and eat; that way I could leave right at ten if I had something to do. Or I could eat after. I thought I’d try eating before on Saturday, because I didn’t want to get in the habit of having a full meal so close to bedtime. Because I really didn’t have anything to do when I got home except hug Mom, watch TV, and sleep.

Santiago returned with Mom in tow; there was some apologies because we hadn’t worked out a procedure. I told Mom about eating before and being out at ten so they got some flan-type of dessert for the both of us and Mrs. Mendoza proceeded to tell Mom how great I’d been tonight. Mom just beamed at me.

I didn’t have to tell Mom about the night when I got in the car, because we’d talked it out in the kitchen. I was really tired, and Mom suggested soaking my feet. I couldn’t imagine wearing heels all night, but thought it was a goal worth working towards. Walking towards?

Mom actually had a cute little blue foot bath, and we set it up in front of the couch and I got ready for bed and sat there in my nightie with my towel and my feet and almost fell asleep right there.

Chapter 21. Vanities

I told myself today was the day for me to build my vanity. And true to Ikea products, it didn’t take a day; I had the thing set up in less than an hour. I spent another hour arranging things, and then went out and flopped on the couch.

“What am I going to do, Mom?” I asked.

She understood I was talking about Carrie and her pool. “You got a reprieve this weekend. No sense worrying about anything until we talk to the doctors on Monday.”

“I really do have an appointment? I thought that was part of the little improv we did.”

“Really do,” she nodded. “At ten. Hmm …” She frowned. “Gonna do some net surfing before then.” She sighed. “So what do you wanna do before work?”

“Are you going anywhere?”

“I could. Why?”

“Um …regardless of what happens with the pool, and the doctors, I’d kind of like to get a swimsuit …” I was embarrassed.

“Sure, but why are you blushing?”

“I thought that days like today, I could …work on a tan, maybe? I dunno …kinda felt vain to say it.”

She laughed and within half-an-hour we were pulling up at the mall. Our mall. She parked and turned to face me. “Alright, a sort of acid test. Chances are that you will see somebody you know from school. Bear in mind that they don’t know me, so nobody’s going to say, ‘Hey, there’s Andrew Preston’s mom–that must be Andrew!’ or anything like that, right?”

Meekly, I nodded. I’d never thought of it that way.

“So we’re just some mom out with her daughter. Maybe we’re visiting. Maybe we just moved here. Maybe you go to St. Anne’s. Anything is possible; everybody doesn’t know everybody else. But you’re going to have this big fear that everybody’s looking and pointing and talking about you. I’m here to tell you that if they are, it’s only because you’re a very pretty girl. That’s why they’re looking at you. Got it?”

I got it, and she was right.

And that confidence carried me right up until I came out of the fitting booth after trying on some suits–and almost bumped into Jenny Bowen!

She was there with a girl I didn’t know, and the only thing that kept me from totally freaking out was that I didn’t know the other girl–which was in line with Mom’s words of encouragement. If both girls had been from my school, I think I would have shrieked and ran! But I thought, ‘I don’t know her and she doesn’t know me and everything’s cool’. That was my mantra and, actually, everything was cool. And because I was cool, I could relax and just be a girl among girls, and observe.

I remembered being swept away by waves of melancholy when I saw Jenny in the past. But now I looked at her and I recognized the shorts from Abercrombie and the top from Wet Seal. I didn’t know her sandals, but the other girl wore flip-flops from Penney’s and a Hollister tank and short set. I didn’t need the names on the items to know; I recognized them from my own shopping and especially wandering around with Carrie yesterday.

Jenny needed to touch up her lipgloss but was so pretty; the other girl wore a bit too much eyeshadow. Jenny’s ponytail was high and perfect as always; the other girl’s hair hung loose and a barrette or clip would have set it off nicely.

And I did not feel any waves of melancholy …

I felt myself a girl checking out other girls–girl-to-girl–and was proud of how I looked. I wore flared khaki shorts from American Eagle and a lime green tank; the straps of my raspberry bra could be seen in a nice contrast. My hair was brushed to the side and held back with a silver clip and I was wearing silver hoops. I know I’d rushed the pierced-ears-thing, but Mom said every girl did, and the important thing was the purity of the metal, the hygiene of cleaning, and rotating the posts.

Still, in another dimension, Jenny Bowen and I might have been girlfriends. That cheered me, because it made me think of Carrie, and that Mom and I would be moving, and that I’d have chance to make girlfriends that only knew me as Angela.

I wound up with two suits, including a black maillot that Mom was confident that I could use to swim at Carrie’s right now.

“Mom! No way!”

“Yes, way,” she teased right back. “You are safely tucked away and I couldn’t see anything down there and I knew what to look for!”

“But my boobs!”

“It’s padded and you don’t know this, but there is adhesive that came with those forms. I can glue ‘em to your chest, pull on your suit, and nobody could tell–unless you strip.”

“But girls change in front of girls all the time.”

She shrugged. “Say you gotta pee and change in the bathroom. Really common with shy girls. Or girls that just have to pee. It’s doable, is what I’m saying. Not hanging with Carrie in her pool will raise more questions.”

The other suit I bought strictly for tanning in the seclusion of our backyard; it was a pink-and-white gingham string bikini. Mom liked the sexiness of the skimpy string bikini contrasting with the wholesomeness of gingham.

We got home in time for me to goop up with sunblock and lay out for almost an hour–twenty minutes a side–while Mom sipped ice tea. She had her laptop and my printouts and was looking up potential places for us to move. We had some candidates, and she asked, “House or apartment?”

“Whichever you want,” I said.

“Really? Then I vote apartment.”

“What about the …what is it …building up the equity?”

She chuckled. “On a house you own for twenty years, sure. But you only have one more year of high school, and we haven’t even begun to discuss college.” She paused. “Angela and I haven’t.”

I was lying on my back and nodded. “Andrew didn’t really have any interests in going to college. Community college for the basic units, maybe, but …”

“He really didn’t have a future, did he?” Mom asked. I was silent, thinking, and Mom said softly, “It’s as if he knew his days were numbered.”

“That’s kind of creepy, but …accurate, I think.” I told her about seeing Jenny Bowen, and my thoughts about that. “And the thing is, I would have been–scratch that. Andrew would have been even more miserable and withdrawn as any hopes of really living as a girl got dimmer and farther away …” I sighed. “I never felt suicidal–I mean, like actually thinking about suicide, but if I’d gone on for much longer …”

She nodded. “It might have become a possibility. Well, thank God for pantyhose.”

“That’s out of nowhere,” I frowned.

“Pantyhose …Susan somebody-or-other …note from your Geometry teacher …ring any bells?”

She was right; that was the chain of events that led to me confessing and eventually becoming Angela. I grinned. “You’re right; thank God for pantyhose.”

Mom laughed. “Because of pantyhose, God gave me my daughter!”

Epilogue: One Year And A Bit Later

I am no longer a hostess at La Rioja.

I happily worked there all through the summer, adding Wednesdays, and those four nights gave me $160 a week. I was tempted to look for more work but Mom said I needed the summer to get my life in order.

Part of that took place the next Monday after my first weekend at La Rioja; that doctor’s appointment helped my life tremendously. Mom had been concerned–the doctors, too–about my ‘socialization’ as a girl, meaning having girlfriends. Carrie was my first but her offer of hanging at her pool would have ended things–except for the doctor’s glue gun!

Actually, it was more than that, but glue was involved. They had a procedure that would tuck my penis away, pulling the scrotal sacs to look like labia, and when it was all glued in place, I would look like any other girl, even from a foot away. I was overjoyed–but there was a separate issue, a sort of price, which I willingly paid. Our state allowed minors to receive an orchiectomy–castration, really–if the patient and parent sign along with medical professionals. Oddly enough, it is surgery, so you’d think they’d allow the sexual reassignment surgery under the same terms. But anything with sex freaks out the voters or legislators and maybe castration’s been around for centuries and there are many reasons for it not directly tied to sexual identity. So, orchiectomy okay, penectomy, no way.

Fine with me! We discussed it and I was a good candidate for it; Legal was consulted, documents were signed, and right then and there on Monday, snip-snip and I was a gelding and couldn’t be happier! Well, if they’d removed the penis and given me a vagina, then I’d be happiest. And an orchiectomy is a bit more than snip-snip, of course. But it was the first big step …

And that visit gave me the confidence to ‘swim-but-not-swim’ with Carrie a few days later. Before he set to work, the doctor had shown me what was planned for my male genitalia, pulling and tucking as he described the procedure, and there was a little discomfort because of my testicles. After the orchiectomy I was sore but ecstatic that they were gone and so was any discomfort when I tucked things back the way I’d been shown. So I could wear the tiny bikini at her pool but not go into the water, because of my mini-surgery. I was still freaked and thought that maybe I could get away with the maillot, but Mom pointed out that my excuse was ‘an infection …doctor’s advice …avoid chlorine …’ but that I could certainly lounge poolside with my new girlfriend. And Mom pointed out, if I was lounging, ‘catching rays’, shouldn’t I be wearing the skimpiest bikini?

I was a bundle of nerves until three minutes after I got there. The breast forms were small enough that even in the tiny cups of the bikini top–well, they were tiny to me!–they were invisible. Any tan lines I’d get might look odd if I were naked, but Mom said we’d fix that during the rest of my summer tanning sessions. The main worry would be if I jumped around or bent over and Carrie could see between my top and my chest, so my top was extra tight. I just told myself ‘no jumping around’ and would make sure I faced away from Carrie if I had to bend over.

I wore my bikini under a skirt and loose top, with other clothes, towel and things in a bag. Carrie met me at the door in a hot orange day-glo bikini that was, if possible, tinier than mine! Moments after arranging ourselves on lounge chairs, I forgot my nerves. I didn’t even have to orchestrate things; she laid a towel on a chair and went to get some bottles of cold water, so I could bend over as I spread out my towel. The weight of the breast forms–Mom had glued them to me–was a welcome reminder of Things To Come. And I was all arranged naturally when Carrie returned and plopped down. I relaxed and it was just two girlfriends tanning, giggling, and having a great time! The only difference was that when she overheated, she jumped in the pool, while I went to this shower they had in a corner of the yard. Carrie laughed that she liked to use it after she swam to rinse off the chlorine, so she did one swoosh through the pool to cool off and then joined me under the shower, giggling. Then back to our lounges and life was good!

The following week I returned to my doctor and everything looked great, some sutures were removed, and then the glue gun came out and the penis disappeared. It was heaven to look as I should, and I had absolutely no problems with the penis being gone; the psychologists praised how well I was ‘acclimated and acculturated to female anatomy’, as one of them put it. And there were no medical problems, either; I had regular check-ups–in the stirrup chair, of course–and periodically the doctor would dissolve the glue and clean me up, examine, and re-glue everything. Apparently I was lucky and never ripped or tore or–worst case–flopped down. I was secure in every way, and probably best of all was knowing that testicles were not an issue.

There were several benefits to the orchiectomy; the testicles had been busy producing testosterone and now I wouldn’t have that ‘poison’ in my system, allowing my estrogen to work faster to feminize my body. There was none of the discomfort of having testicles, and the empty scrotal sacs looked great as labia. They often have people like me place their testicles back up in the abdomen, but there can be complications down the line. So–no testicles, no complications. Mom had trouble keeping a straight face as she lectured me about avoiding a ‘camel toe’, but I was so happy that I could even have one! The upshot was that I could wear the tightest bikini bottoms, or even shower with other girls, and my groin looked just like theirs.

My groin did, but my chest was another matter. I was starting to bud in response to the hormones I’d started, but like every girl, my breasts were just too darned slow to develop! It had been embarrassing the first time I stripped in front of Carrie before swimming. I told her that my many doctors’ appointments were because of ‘some problem with my Fallopian tubes’, leaving out the truth which was that I didn’t have any–some problem! And it caused a delay in my puberty that was only now coming on line. Fortunately, I could remove my panties and put on my swimsuit–and she could see my tan lines from sunning myself in my bikini–and Carrie saw that I was a girl, based on my groin rather than my tiny new breasts.

By the end of the summer, though, I was using a gel bra like a lot of girls, and I was ready to go to my senior year at my new school, as a girl, with Girls’ PE, and I couldn’t help but giggle at my old Westmont coach asking me if that’s what I wanted–yes, I did!

Over the summer I’d gotten a legal name change to Angela Marie Walker, my mother’s maiden name. She kept her married name for awhile because it was the name she was known by at work, but around Thanksgiving she transferred to a new branch closer to us and filed her petition so she became ‘Ms. Gail Walker’. As a mother, let people think it was Mrs.; she didn’t care.

Then she met a great guy, Dan, at her new office, and things are heating up between them, which is absolutely wonderful and I couldn’t be happier for her.

So we are the Walker women, as Mom teased, in our new apartment. It was farther away from her job at first, but she got that transfer, and it was closer to La Rioja for me. And it was a two-block walk from Crestview High School, which scored second-best academically and number one when they factored in sports. I became a Crestview Senior; our cover story was ‘Mom got transferred from Pittsburg’ and the truth was, nobody really cared.

I was accepted immediately as a girl and got some new girlfriends, Heather and Stephanie. I was still very friendly with Carrie and my cover story with her was Mom’s transfer across town; it all worked out. Carrie and I did a lot of things together over the summer, and sometimes with another girl from her school, Susan, and later with Gina, the girl I’d met in the restroom line when I’d met Carrie. Gina had finally broken up with the guy–he was an asshole–but she was a needy type. All in all, though, I was learning so much about girls’ lives and my doctors were pleased with my socialization.

Of course, that word included being social with boys. We all cruised and flirted with boys, and I found myself attracted to several. It was such a shock the first time I felt warm and damp and my heart was racing, because then I knew! A very nice boy in my English class asked me to Homecoming, and the fantastically wonderful madness of Homecoming for girls was only topped by the sweetness of his goodnight kiss.

But I wanted to focus on the best grades I could and didn’t want to go steady–or go further on dates–and he drifted away. I spent Christmas single, but it was the happiest Christmas of my entire life–of Mom’s too, I think. And by the end of January I kind of had a boyfriend, a baseball player named Steve. Now his kisses weren’t just sweet–they were mad sexy! But the first time he caressed my breasts, I just about lost my mind. I told him I wasn’t going to go all the way but we did everything except that!

I finished the year with a 3.87 GPA and honors in Advanced Spanish. I took mostly AP courses so they counted for more with colleges. I had decided to go to State because it was affordable for us and had a very good Languages department.

Working at La Rioja had improved my Spanish tremendously. And through the restaurant, I met their meat supplier. This is a pretty prosaic job in most restaurants, but since Argentine beef is so highly regarded, and the Mendozas had a direct supplier, he was held in very high esteem. We began talking and I was interested in more aspects of the restaurant and by spring, I was offered a job with the supplier. The Mendozas gave me their blessing and I had the experience of coming full circle–I was the one that had to approve the new hostess, and gave her advice the way Rosa had with me. Rosa’s difficult pregnancy yielded a perfectly healthy baby boy but it took a lot out of her; by the start of summer she was doing well. She could probably have come back to hostess but her hands were happily full with her kids.

Santiago and I were friends. Lots of people thought we were boyfriend-girlfriend, or soon would be, but it was a genuine friendship and not awkward because of my past. By the end of summer, he had met a wonderful girl named Victoria and I just had to tell him to go slow and not become a father before he graduated!

It was Santiago that nudged me towards the meat supplier, based on my new knowledge of the restaurant and what he knew of me. The fantastic thing about the job with the meat supplier was that I would get to travel to Argentina after I graduated! It was part of the job and suddenly I have a possible future in international meat distribution.

Graduation was wonderful and filled with all the typical stuff; lots of giggles and lots of tears and everything was worth it to hear the principal call out ‘Angela Marie Walker’ and get my diploma with honors.

But my true graduation takes place next week: In the middle of summer vacation, I’m taking a month-long vacation, of sorts. My eighteenth birthday is next Tuesday; on Wednesday I enter the hospital and have what I call my ‘corrective’ surgery. They will remove the penis and create my vagina and then I can get on with things. Six weeks after that, I will fly to Buenos Aires for a week, and then return for a week and then start at State.

A year ago Mom joked about blessing pantyhose for starting the events that led to me becoming who I am today. The funny thing is, like every girl I know, I rarely wear pantyhose because they’ve gone out of fashion for everyday wear. Smooth and sleekly bare legs are in. Of course, I love tights during the winter, too! But Mom was right; if it hadn’t been for Susan Berger’s pantyhose …

I saw Susan not long ago in Dillard’s; she was not wearing them.

The End