Scott Taylor Miller is tired of being known as Snotty. On New years Day he resolves to take control of his life and make himself into Taylor. However, Scott is unaware that his new asthma medicine will change him in ways he cannot foresee. Forces both within and without will try to define him. If he doesn't want to be Snotty any longer, ...just who exactly is Taylor? The Taylor Project Part 14 by Tracey Willows Copyright © 2013 Tracey Willows All Rights Reserved.

 
The Taylor Project
 
Chapter Thirty-Eight

With everything that had happened that day I wasn’t able to get to sleep, so I spent a long time writing in my diary. Typing things out comforted me and helped put it all into perspective. While the day had been a roller coaster ride, I felt one step closer to being accepted as a girl. I had a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow and while Grandma didn’t approve she wasn’t openly hostile. A soft tapping on my door interrupted my writing.

“Taylor, are you up?” asked Hailey faintly.

I opened my door cautiously. I didn’t want Rick to see me. I didn’t have a nightgown on, but I was in Taylor mode with panties and sweatpants, oversized T-shirt and no bra While my sleepware approximated hers, I wished I had the real thing.

Hailey wore a long-sleeved slouchy Tee paired with a casual pair of stretchy leggings that hugged her form. Before my fashion lessons I would have called them both pink, and I might have described the fancy "Kiss" lettering on a giant darker pink heart as ‘cute’. After the past few days of fashion training, I now knew that the Tee was 'scoopnecked' in a 'light peach' color with a 'rosette accent', the leggings were a 'capri' style 'bittersweet' tone, and that both worked for Hailey because she was a 'soft autumn'. The pink and fluffy bunny slippers didn't really match, but they sure looked comfy. Technically the slippers were salmon-colored and not merely pink, but I was still having trouble wrapping my head around a color named after a fish.

I put my daydreams away, opened the door fully, and let her into my room. “Yeah, I was just adding to my diary. Come on in.”

She slipped into my room. “I didn’t know you kept a diary. That’s so girly of you.”

“I used to call it a journal, but I guess it is.” Was that another girly thing I’d always done? Boys did keep journals and logs, didn’t they? “So what’s up?”

Hailey sat down on my bed. “I know it’s almost midnight, but I saw your light on and I was thinking about your situation.”

I noticed I’d left my diary open on my computer. With someone else I’d be panicking, but I trusted Hailey, so I left it there and joined her. “What about? Grandma, the reverend or the doctor’s visit tomorrow?”

“Actually, I was thinking about Rick.”

“Why? I try to think of him as little as possible.”

“I’m thinking it is a mistake keeping him in the dark.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Like I want him to tell everyone, no freaking way.”

“Oh, and just how long do you expect to keep it from him? Seriously, think about it. We’re going to tell our parents on Sunday. What about Rick? They’re driving up from Galveston. They’ll have to unpack and both have to work tomorrow. We drop your bombshell on them; they’re going to freak and focus on us. You don’t think Rick is going to notice?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. He might not even be home when they get here.”

“True, best case scenario is he’s gone and they agree not to tell him. But how long can you keep him out of the loop? You really think you’ll make it a week?”

“Probably not.” Rick was a jock, but he wasn’t dumb. He’d notice. “So what do you think I should do?”

“Go ahead and come out to Rick now. Give him a couple of days to get used to it. Plus, if Rick is in the know you can dress as Taylor all day. Rick might call you names, but I think if your Grandma could just see what a natural girl you are she’d come around.”

Tomorrow was already Friday so I wouldn’t be able to be a girl for long. There were only three days left in Spring Break, yet even just three days of being myself was very tempting. Hailey was right that Rick couldn’t be kept in the dark long. “Hmm, I see your point. Maybe it is better to have multiple small explosions instead of one big one, but you’re overlooking a major point – I don’t trust Rick.” After all, he was the one who had invented my nickname Snotty and spread it at school.

“I didn’t say trust him. Just tell him. I don’t particularly like him. I think he’s an ass and a bully, but do you really think he’ll tell anyone? Wouldn’t that hurt him as much as it would you?”

I sighed. I could see Hailey’s point. Any rumors about me could easily come back to bite Rick in the ass. The problem was counting on Rick to do the smart thing; I didn’t trust Rick to be that smart. He might be too mule-headed to realize that it could come back to haunt him. Even if he did accept it, what if he slipped up? “It’s a nice thought, Hailey, but I just don’t trust Rick not to blab. Grandma can’t control him but Dad can. I want to wait.”

Hailey shrugged and shook her head. “Look, it’s your call. He’s your brother. You know him better than I do. I was just thinking that if your Grandma saw you dressed up as a girl more, she might get used to it.”

“You’re also assuming she’d let me dress up as a girl. She’d be more likely to send me back to my room to change. There’s no need to rile her up again. She’s settled down now.”

“She thinks you’re broken and that you need to be straightened out.”

I tossed my hands up in the air. What did she expect? “Yeah, I can’t change her attitude, but I can wait her out. It’s just three days and I’ve got a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to wait. I want to do something. All you ever want to do is wait, Taylor. There has to be something we can do right now to make everyone accept you as a girl.”

I shrugged. “Maybe you’re right, but I don’t think coming out to Rick is a smart move. We can talk about it more tomorrow. You’d better get back to your room. Grandma will blow another gasket if she found you in here.”

Hailey got up. “Yes, but why? Because a boy and a girl are in a bedroom with closed doors? Or because she thinks I’m responsible for your girlification?”

“Both.” I got up and we hugged. It was just a friendly sister thing, but it also reminded me that we were cut-off from Cathy. I had no idea what she’d been going through all day. Nor was there anything I could do about it.

“Goodnight, Taylor.” She turned and left closing my door quietly behind her.

“Goodnight, Hailey.” I watched her leave and then glanced at my computer. I hadn’t finished my diary entry, but I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to finish writing in it tonight.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Grandma was a cautious driver in her old age and always drove under the speed limit. Sitting in the back with Hailey, I felt like we were in a funeral procession on our way to the cemetery rather than going to see Doc Buford. Pine Hill wasn’t a big town, but every mile seemed to take forever and we were heading to a big event that I’d really rather not attend. The only funeral I was interested in was the death of Scotty – and my rebirth as Taylor.

Despite the slow pace we arrived at Dr. Buford’s office in plenty of time for my appointment. Grandma went and talked to the nurse, then started filling out forms while I sat by Hailey and watched the fish in the fishtank.

Hailey leaned in to me. “It’s going to be OK, Taylor,” she whispered.

“I hope so.” Yet, I wasn’t convinced. This was a necessary step on the road to getting female hormones, but a scary one. My biggest fear was getting a shot of testosterone today. Since Doc Buford was a general practitioner, and not an endocrinologist, that seemed unlikely. That would come later.

Grandma called over to me, “Scotty, do you know the name of your allergy medicine?”

“No, I’m sorry Grandma, I don’t.”

The nurse and Grandma continued to fill out paperwork. She gave them the name of my allergist, Doctor Bhatnagar, in Longview. The nurse said they’d just call for the records. A little bit later they announced our turn to see Doc Buford, so Grandma and I rose. Hailey had to stay in the waiting room, but she gave me a thumbs up sign as I walked away. The nurse weighed me, measured my height and checked my blood pressure. My height still hadn’t changed. Since I was finally in puberty, I’d expected some growth, but I wasn’t too disappointed to see none. After all, I was already tall enough for a girl my age.

We were shown to the exam room where I got up on the table and waited for the doctor. I’ve been seeing Doc Buford since we moved to Pine Hill. He’s been a doctor since before I was alive. He treated my father back when Dad was a child. Doc Buford was mostly bald, just a thin circle of white hair over his ears and around back. He wore gold rimmed bifocals and a friendly smile. I liked Doc Buford, but he had me shivering then and it had nothing to do with being cold.

He nodded to Grandma first. “Betty, good to see you again. I understand your son just remarried.”

Grandma smiled. “He did. They’re on their honeymoon this week. That’s why I’m here with Scotty.”

Doc Buford turned to me. “Scotty, I guess that means the young lady in our waiting room is your new sister. I hope you two are getting along. You’re looking much better than last time I saw you. So what seems to be the problem, young man?”

“I prefer Taylor now, and it’s kinda personal.”

“Well then, Taylor, I’d like to help you, but you’ll have to tell me what’s bothering you.”

Was he blind? I only had on one shirt and a sports bra to tie things down. I thought my boobs would be obvious, but he didn’t look like he had a clue. “Maybe I’d better just show you.” I pulled my t-shirt off my body which exposed the hot pink sports bra I had on underneath. The pink had been a deliberate choice. Grandma had insisted I wear boy clothes, but had allowed me a bra. Since I wanted Doc Buford to recommend a therapist, the choice of color was an attempt to signal to him that I was a girl. However, I think my cheeks were turning almost as pink as my bra.

“I think I see at least part of the problem, Taylor. Let me assure you that while it is a little unusual and personal, it isn’t all that uncommon. I’m going to need to do a full exam and some blood work, but it looks like you have a condition called gynecomastia.”

I actually giggled. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“Why don’t we start by you telling me what you know, then? When did this start?” He spent a lot of time asking routine sorts of questions; then he started the exam. It started off slow with the usual eyes, ears, mouth and nose check.

“Taylor, I’m going to need to give you a breast exam and genital exam. Would you like your grandmother to stay or have me bring in a nurse?”

The breast exam I’d sort of expected, but not the other. “No, I’d rather not have Grandma or a nurse in for that.” Like I wanted to get naked in front of witnesses? Doc Buford was bad enough.

Grandma rose. “I’ll wait in the lobby.” She left through the exam room door closing it behind her.

While I’d asked for privacy because I didn’t want Grandma watching, I suddenly realized this was my one chance to talk to Doc Buford discreetly and convince him. “Doc? Um, the boobs aren’t my real problem. In fact in a way they aren’t even a problem at all because I want to keep them. My real problem is that I’m a girl.”

“A girl, really? You better tell me about it.” He still smiled his friendly country doctor smile at me, but that smile looked forced. I think I’d rattled him.

“Um, I just did. I never really seemed to fit at school, in sports, or anywhere else for that matter. My best friends are girls. It was all in front of my face, but it was just recently that I understood why. I’m a girl inside. I should have been born a girl and I like my breasts. I’m…”

The words still felt so heavy like I had to lift them out of my lungs to get them out. “I’m transgendered.” I looked at my lap as I confessed that, but that wasn’t good enough. I needed him to make him understand. I forced myself to look up at Doc Buford and put some spine into my words. “I don’t want testosterone shots, pills, or cream. I want to keep growing the way I am. I want testosterone blockers.”

Doc Buford gave me a sharp look. "Have you already been self-medicating? Is that where your 'apparent gynocomastia' actually comes from?"

Startled, I blurted out, "No sir! I don't know why this is happening; I just know I want it to continue." I hesitated wondering if I should explain more about how I’d been confused and unsure when I’d first noticed my breasts growing. On one hand, I didn’t really want to admit that I’d ever been less than pleased at having boobs. On the other hand, if he thought I was self-medicating, then I could be in big trouble.

Fortunately, he seemed to be satisfied, because he lost some of his scowl. “Scotty, I’m sorry, Taylor, I’m not done examining you, but I can already tell you that I’m not going to be prescribing either testosterone or testosterone blockers for you today. I’m also not going to be giving you estrogens today, either, if you were planning to ask about that. Balancing hormones is a tricky business and not something for an old country doc like me.” He said it with a smile and a wink, but both felt phony to me. Calling himself an old country doctor was like his trademark, an act he put on. “However, I would like to examine you. It sounds like you’ve already diagnosed yourself, but I’m going to need more information before I venture my professional opinion. I’d like to start with a few questions of a personal nature.”

I felt put in my place just by his tone. His questions were humiliating. How often did I masturbate? Never. Really, this is for medical reasons, blah, blah, blah. Still never. How about nocturnal emissions? No, never, ever, on those, too. Then he started asking about erections and he went back over stuff, like he was sure I was lying to him. I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide, but I wasn’t lying. Obviously my testosterone was lower than a snake’s belly, because all I could own up to was that I had erections sometimes but not often. I knew why he was asking. I was growing boobs, so my hormones were obviously off. He wanted to know how well the boy parts were working. They were making about as much progress as Congress.

Then, as if the questions were not bad enough, he had to examine me. I’d been so worried about getting put on testosterone, not to mention all the crap with Grandma, that I hadn’t really thought about what an examination would mean. The breast exam wasn’t that bad. I had to lie still on the crinkly paper covered exam table while he felt me up over and over. I tried to zone out while it happened but I couldn’t. The first time anyone else had touched me there, and it was old Doc Buford. I suppose all girls had to go through that, but it sucked. Between the shame and the pain when he pressed down hard on my tender buds, I felt molested. Worse, he wasn’t even done with the exam yet.

I had to stand up and drop my jeans and panties as he examined my genitals. Great, not only was Doc Buford getting to second, he was stealing third! A part of me was freaking because it still thought I was the one who was supposed to be getting to second or third base some day. Instead I got to be the base. Sigh. Not that he wasn’t professional. He was very cold and clinical. I’m sure Mr. Spock would have approved of his lack of emotion, although he sure did spend a long time fondling my balls. He didn’t say a word about my wearing panties. Actually, he hardly spoke at all except to give me instructions.

Finally I thought he was done poking and prodding me. I congratulated myself on it being over, knowing I’d been lucky. From what I’ve heard a full pelvic exam would have been worse. At least my lack of vagina worked for me, and I couldn’t have anything shoved up inside, right? Wrong. That’s when Doc Buford told me that he had to do a prostate exam and explained how it was done. So I got to bend over while Doc Buford slipped on a latex glove, squeezed some gunk from a tube onto his finger, and shoved a cold, slimy finger up my ass. I could hear all the taunts in my head that I was gay, queer and a fag, but I did not like it! At least it was over fast.

As soon as he told me that I could dress, I had my clothes back on. I wanted to curl up somewhere and hide, but there was nowhere to go. So I just sat there on the paper covered exam table and relived the exam. I felt violated. Was this how women felt after a GYN appointment? I should have expected it. I was coming in for an exam. Of course, he was going to look under the hood. It hadn’t been sexual, but being treated like a piece of meat hadn’t felt good either. I wanted to go home and take a hot bath.

After a while I wondered what was taking so long. Eventually he returned with Grandma, who looked really looked upset for some reason. Had they spoken outside? What had they talked about behind my back?

Doc Buford sat down. “Taylor, I’m going to need some bloodwork, but I want to talk to both of you. You have gynecomastia, but I believe it is a symptom of an underlying condition. There are many possible causes of that particular symptom, but from that and a few other things I noticed, I believe you might have a condition known as Klinefelter’s Syndrome.”

“What? XXY? But I looked at that. I’m not retarded. I may not be a straight A student but I’m not retarded!”

“Taylor, this is why it is not a good idea to self-diagnose. While some of those affected have learning difficulties, in practice there is a great variation in the severity of the symptoms and not everyone has every possible clinical finding. Even those that are learning disabled rarely are affected enough to meet the medical criteria of mental retardation.”

“What do you mean, XXY?” asked Grandma.

“In humans there are normally twenty-three pairs of chromosome. One of these pairs, called the sex chromosomes, determines gender. The sex chromosomes have slightly different shapes, with one looking like the letter X under an electron microscope, and the other vaguely like the letter Y. Usually, those chromosomes pair up such that XX is for females, and XY is for males. Usually, but not always." He frowned a little, while pausing to collect his thoughts before continuing. "Sometimes, things don't work exactly like they are supposed to, and instead of two sex chromosomes, an extra one ends up being brought along. So instead of having twenty-three pairs, one 'pair' of them is actually a triplet, or trisomy, giving a total of forty-seven chromosomes instead of the usual forty-six. Klinefelter’s Syndrome is one of the most common chromosomal abnormalities in males. It happens when there are two copies of the X chromosome, and one copy of the Y chromosome. Hence the term, XXY.”

“But he is a male?”

He gave a slight nod. “The Y chromosome is dominant, so the XXY phenotype is male.”

I was still a little mixed up about this. “You mentioned there were a 'few other things' you noticed. Like what?”

“You have true gynecomastia, actual developing breasts. They’re not just the more typical fatty tissue deposits, otherwise known as ‘pseudogynecomastia’ or more commonly ‘man boobs’. Also importantly your genitalia are underdeveloped. Your testes are small and firm. Your scrotal and penile development are both juvenile. That lack of development doesn’t track well with typical adolescent onset gynecomastia, where the testes should have started to grow first. They are usually the source of the hormones creating this condition. Another symptom is that overall your distribution of body fat is more appropriate for a female than a male. There are some other factors that I’ve observed that aren’t probative, like your height and some personality traits.” He shrugged. “Those last things are iffy, though. The testes are more important, and the main reason I want to test you for Klinefelter's as a cause of your gynecomastia. There are a few other things that could possibly do this, but KS is by far the most likely suspect.”

I couldn’t remember all the details about Klinefelter’s, but it hadn’t been good. There had been a lot of other bad symptoms besides just having learning disabilities. “So this bloodwork will confirm this? How long will it take?”

“Yes, the gender karyotyping is definitive. It usually takes a few days. I would also like to do some more tests, standard blood work, to check on your general health and see what exactly is going on with your hormone levels. While KS is the most likely explanation, you’re showing more breast development than I would expect. The other bloodwork will give me some insight into what’s happening there, but the karyotyping is the main test.”

“So does this syndrome explain why he thinks that he’s a girl?” asked Grandma.

“Not necessarily. Children with KS are often less aggressive, more compliant, sensitive children. Those are traits we often praise in girls while fostering independence in boys. However, whether Taylor is transgendered is a question for a psychologist or psychiatrist, not a simple country doctor.”

Compliant? Sensitive? I think I was being insulted, or maybe he’d just insulted the entire female gender, but that was less important than his last statement. Grandma had said that I could see a therapist if Doc Buford recommended it. He just had. “You’re saying I need to see a therapist?!”

“I would say that any child your age who has a strong belief they are of the other gender should consult a therapist.” He still had that forced smile on his face. He turned to Grandma. “I also want you to get him in to see an endocrinologist. Regardless of whether the bloodwork confirms Klinefelter's or not, Taylor is suffering from a hormone imbalance and needs to be evaluated by a specialist.”

Grandma suddenly smiled. “Oh, good. Yes, recommend someone and I’ll get an appointment as soon as possible. Can you also recommend a good Christian therapist who deals with these matters?”

“I can,” agreed Doc Buford with what looked like a genuine smile.

What? Oh shit!

Chapter Forty

Doc Buford apparently couldn’t do my bloodwork on site, so he filled in a bunch of instructions on a couple different form pads. I couldn’t have food after 8 PM and I’d have to go to a lab first thing in the morning to get my blood drawn. Blah, blah, lots of tests tomorrow, blah. I didn’t talk much while we drove home. I only explained the bare bones to Hailey: how I was probably XXY, but had to wait on the bloodwork. I also filled her in about getting to see an endocrinologist and a good ‘Christian’ therapist. Grandma stiffened at my jab, but said nothing. Hailey obviously got the hint that I didn’t want to talk about it with Grandma listening in.

I sulked. I had myself a major pity party on the way home. Grandma’s plan to pick some therapist – with his mind made up that I was a boy before we even started – was a big part of the problem. Yet, it shouldn’t be. She had no time to implement her plan. It was already noon on Friday. There was no possibly way she’d get me in to see a therapist before Dad and Julie got home. I just had to suck it up and outwait her.

For some reason, though, just waiting really pushed my buttons. Maybe it was one of the little things that Doc Buford had said that had gotten under my skin. He’d claimed XXY children were complaint and non-aggressive. OK, maybe I resembled that remark. I hadn’t wanted to tell anyone. In fact even now my plan was to be a good little child, not make any waves, and wait for Dad and Julie to get home. Oh yeah, it fit me all too well and that rankled.

Compliant? Non-aggressive? I’d bet Grandma thought she’d find a good ‘Christian’ therapist and I’d just go right along. Yeah, she was already plotting to give me testosterone. Let her try to make me back into a boy, and she’d see some aggression! To my surprise the car was coming to a halt. We were home already.

I jumped out of the car first and raced inside our house, and there was Rick. Our front door opened to our living room, which was separated from the kitchen only by counters. I spotted him standing in front of the refrigerator with the door open, wearing nothing but his boxers and drinking milk from a jug. Was he shitting me? Could he be any more stereotypical male? There was no effing way I was ever going to be like him. I wasn’t going to let them make me into a boy.

Then Rick opened his mouth and inserted both feet. “Hey Snotty, what’s got your panties in a twist?”

“My panties are fitting just fine, thank you very much. Which reminds me, we need to have a little talk. My name is Taylor now. Tay-lor. Not Scott, not Scotty and especially not Snotty. Oh and by the way, I’m a girl.” I lifted up my shirt and flashed my pink sports bra full of boobs at him.

The milk jug hit the kitchen floor and milk splattered everywhere. “Holy fucking shit! What are you wearing? You fucking fairy!”

Grandma chose that moment to enter with Hailey. She didn’t look happy and jumped on both of us. “Richard Lee Miller, you are not too old to wash your mouth out with soap. Scott Taylor, what in God’s name are you doing exposing yourself like that? Cover up right now.”

I pulled my shirt down, but I couldn’t resist. “But Grandma, if I’m a really a boy why does it matter?”

“Don’t talk back like that to me. You can go to your room right now.”

“Fine with me. I need to change clothes anyway. I’m going to dress appropriately for my true gender. If you don’t like it, then don’t come in my room!” I stomped off down the hallway.

“Would someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” asked Rick

I got the pleasure of hearing Grandma light into him before I slammed my bedroom door behind me. They were still going after it when Hailey quietly opened my door and slipped into my room.. I turned to her. “Hailey, they’re going to send me to some close-minded therapist who already has his mind made up that I need to be turned into a boy.”

Hailey rushed over to my side. “No, no they’re not. Your grandma may want that, but she isn’t going to get an appointment before our parents get back. I’ll talk to Momma. You’ll get a fair therapist.”

“You really think so?” I slumped against the wall feeling drained. I could still hear Rick and Grandma yelling at each other through the walls. Coming out to Rick like that was probably not on the list of the smartest things I’d ever done.

“Yes, I’ll talk to my mother. Your brother and grandmother are really starting to scare me. Momma wouldn’t let me be abused. She had no clue that she was signing up for this, but she signed on to be your mother. She’s not going to stand by and let you be forced into something that you don’t want.”

I slid down the wall and sat on the floor and started crying. “I hope so. God, I hope so.”