The pictures of me in the dress finally appeared. Even I wasn’t ready for what I saw. Mom and I both gasped as the first picture was seen. It was a shot from my waist to my head; I’m looking toward the sky and am slightly backlit, creating a halo around my head. It was the most beautiful picture I had ever seen and it would have been so with any other model. Mom’s eyes had filled with tears.

Chapter 7

Tuesday, Mrs. Meyer picked up my portfolio from the photographer and called my mother the minute she got home.

“Mark, Gloria called. She has your portfolio and she wants us to come and look at it.”

‘Okay, Mom, I’ll be right there.”

I threw on some socks and my Converse shoes and ran to the kitchen to pull my mother to Cindy’s.

“Hurry Mom, I want to see it.”

“Slow down Mark, It will still be there when we get to their house.”

Mom fiddled around the kitchen doing nothing, as if she didn’t want to see the pictures. I wondered if that was the case, after the talk with my father. Seeing her daughter in pictures would just cement what I wanted so badly to tell them, that I was a girl.

Mom and I finally walked to Cindy’s. Cindy was waiting near the door when we arrived.

“Oh Mark, your pictures are beautiful,” she gushed. “Come on,” she said grabbing my hand and pulling me into her house. Mrs. Meyer was in the kitchen looking at my photos.

“Mark, Rachel, I must say, these are the prettiest pictures I’ve ever seen, and I don’t say that lightly. My own daughter is a model and, well, I’m her mother, and I wish she was as beautiful as you,” she said, when she saw us enter the kitchen.

Mom and I walked to the kitchen counter, opposite Mrs. Meyer.

“Take a look,” she said, spinning the pile of pictures to face us.

Mom and I stood side by side looking at the photos, one at a time. Each photo was of me with my name at the bottom corner, Amanda Flowers. Mom would take the top photo and turn it face down in a pile next to the one we were looking at. Her hand would touch the photo, pause and then turn the photo.

“So pretty,” she kept saying softly with each photo.

And they were pretty, or I should say, I was pretty.

During the shoot, Bob had me pose in all kinds of angles, move here, move there, turn just a little until he got the shot just right. Now I could see the results and it was hard to believe the girl in the photos was me.

Mom looked at the casual batch first which portrayed me as a young, energetic girl. I was very pretty and I liked the look. Next came the skirt and blouse. The look was of someone going to school. I didn’t like these as much because my legs were seen below the skirt. Maybe I’m being too critical of myself, but I didn’t like my legs. It’s not like they were ugly or anything, but they just didn’t have the right shape. My thighs were skinny as were my calves. I compared them to Cindy’s and could see the difference between a boy and girl’s. I guess that was something I will have to live with. Other than my legs, I was beautiful and I could see the distress on my Mom’s face.

The pictures of me in the dress finally appeared. Even I wasn’t ready for what I saw. Mom and I both gasped as the first picture was seen. It was a shot from my waist to my head; I’m looking toward the sky and am slightly backlit, creating a halo around my head. It was the most beautiful picture I had ever seen and it would have been so with any other model. Mom’s eyes had filled with tears.

“You’re so beautiful,” was all she could say.

Mom spent more than two minutes staring at the photo, and dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. As she slowly turned the rest of the pictures, I cold see why she was so emotional, I had become a young woman in those pictures. Mom had tears and I had tears seeing what a beautiful daughter she had. I only wished she would think the same way. And I could see why Mrs. Meyer had asked me to become a model. Even I could see there was something special about me.

“Well, what do you think?” Mrs. Meyer asked, excitedly, “isn’t she beautiful?”

Wow, Mrs. Meyer referred to me as she, not Mark, but as a girl.

Mom paused for a second before the crushing words, “yes, Mark is very pretty.” I could feel the coldness in her voice.

Gloom entered the room, but Mrs. Meyer wasn’t going to have any of it.

“Mark, the only way I can say this is that Amanda is spectacular. Lush Cosmetics made the right move with you and are getting off cheep. Now we should get down to business. The first thing I might suggest is Mark grow his hair out if he’s going to continue in this business. Wigs will work for a while but there’s going to come a time when he’ll need his own hair.”

“Gloria, this is just too much for me right now. Why would Mark have to grow his hair long?”

“Hair commercials. Wigs just won’t work and beside wigs are hot and uncomfortable and we wouldn’t want our future diva perspiring because of a wig,” she laughed.

Mom didn’t see the humor in her remark.

“Look Gloria, I’ll be honest with you, I’m having a real problem with all of this,” Mom said, pointing at the photos. “I so afraid all this femininity might have an effect on him that can’t be reversed. I love my son.”

“Rachel, I know you’re worried, but this is an opportunity of a life time. If Mark was going to make a few thousand dollars, I could see your point, but that’s not the case. You’ve already signed a contract for more money than I made during my career, and this is just the beginning. When other clients see Mark’s pictures, they’re going to offer millions just to have him associated with their products. Mark’s a strong confident boy and I see no reason that this will do anything negative to him, and if the thing you worry so much about were to take place, what’s so wrong with being a woman?”

“That’s the point Gloria, Mark’s a boy and I want him to remain that way.”

“Well, that’s your decision, so if you don’t want to renew your contract when it comes time, I’ll understand why, but I think you would be making a very big mistake.”

“Mark and I should go, we have a lot to talk about. Thank you for your hospitality,” Mom said, leaving the stack of photos on the counter.

“Take the pictures, Rachel, I have extra copies. Bob already sent them overnight to the agency. I’m sure I’ll be receiving a call from them tomorrow.”

“Thanks again,” Mom said, and hugged Gloria stiffly.

Mom and I walked home without a word. I know the pictures had upset her, but what was I going to do? They were part of the job and as much as I wanted to tell her of my true feelings I couldn’t. She was fragile enough with having a pretty boy and to add that I loved being a girl would be too much for her to handle, no, that would have to wait for her to hear, if ever?

Mom closed the door behind us and went into the living room, placing the photos on the coffee table. Her eyes were damp with tears.

“Come here, sweetheart,” she said, with a quiver in her voice.

She gathered me in her arms and pulled me tight. I could feel her body heave as she began to sob.

“My pretty, pretty boy,” she said, “ my pretty little boy, what have we done?”

Mom held me for what seemed like hours, but I’m sure it was just minutes. I felt so bad for my mother thinking about what she must be going through? I was her son and yet there were the photos that were proving me oh so wrong. All I could do was comfort her like good son should do.

Mom broke the embrace and looked at me one more time, smiled slightly and said, “ your father should see these.”

Mom called to my father who was watching a basketball game in the other room.

“Jeez Rachel, It’s game three and there are just two minutes left,” he grumbled.

“Lance, this will take just a minute and you know very well those two minutes will take a half of an hour, what with the commercials and all, this is important.”

Dad shuffled into the living room looking as though he was being punished for eating too much candy.

“I want you to look at Mark’s pictures for his portfolio,” Mom said.

Dad picked up the pile of pictures and went through them. Quickly at first and then he slowed as he examined each picture like forensic detective examining crime photos. When he got to the photo in the dress with me looking toward the sky he stopped, looking at it and then at me. His eyes glistened, but he didn’t say anything and kept looking back and forth. Finally he finished looking at the remaining photos before he spoke.

“I feel as though I’m looking at pictures of my daughter rather than my son, “ he said softly. “What do you think of this Mark?”

“I like them, a lot,” I replied.

I wasn’t going to lie to my father and he had to know I was very proud of what had been accomplished with those photos. They showed I had real potential as a model.

“Rachel?”

“Oh God, Lance, I’m so confused right now. I love those pictures and yet, I loathe them too. As a mother I should be so proud to have a lovely daughter like Amanda, so pretty and so feminine, but I love my son and I don’t want to lose him, God what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know honey, I really don’t know. Mark would you be willing to give up this modeling thing?”

It felt as though Dad had just stabbed me in the heart. God no I wouldn’t, please don’t make me do that.

“Dad, please don’t ask me to give it up. I love modeling, even if it’s as a girl, and I just started, please?” I pleaded, as tears filled my eyes.

“Mark calm down, son, I’m not going to make you give up something you enjoy so much, it’s just that I worry about your mother and how it’s effecting her, and to be perfectly honest, what it’s doing to you.”

“What’s it doing to me?”

“Nothing so far, but I worry you might like this girl thing too much, and will want to really become one.”

Dad, if you only knew.

“That won’t happen, I promise,” I said, “and if it did, would it be so bad having a daughter?”

“Please Mark, let’s not go there. When this is finished I want my son back, not a world famous woman model, understood.”

“Yes Dad.”

Dad went back to his game and saw the last eleven seconds of it, which took fifteen minutes. Mom gathered the photos and said she had a headache and went to her room. I had a lot to think about, knowing I would never be able to keep the promise I made to my father.

The day after my parents talked to me, Dad made a point of spending more time than usual with me, doing guy things, hoping our time together would make a difference in how I thought of myself. We did more than just play ball. He felt it was time to replace the rear deck on our house, so we tore the old one out. The lumber company delivered a stack of lumber, some wood preservative and nails, we were set.

Dad taught me how to square the frame with out a square, “It’s simple math, Mark, watch what I do.”

Dad laid out two pieces of lumber and stretched his measuring tape along the length, making a mark at three feet. He then turned and marked the other piece at four feet.

“Now hold the end of the tape on this mark and we’ll measure the distance from mark to mark. It should measure five feet, so we’ll have to move the lumber until it does. When it does, we’ll know it’s square.”

One piece was against the house so we moved the other until it lined up perfectly.

“Now we’ll nail a piece of scrap from one piece to the other so it won’t move.”

That being done we put together the frame or joists as Dad called them. They were heavy, two by twelve’s, fourteen feet long, but dad said I was a strong boy and I could handle it. I did and we worked for five hours until the frame was complete.

“We’ll put the deck on tomorrow. You did a good job son. I’m proud of you.”

The next day we painted the wood with water seal so all sides would be protected. It was messy work, but I enjoyed the interaction with my father. Dad told me stories of how he learned building from his father and his father had learned from his father before him. Our time together was becoming very special as my father taught me what real men taught their boys. He never showed anger even though I would make the same mistake over and over, but patiently showed me the right way to do things.

As the first week and then the second passed I began to question my desire to become a girl. I loved my father and I loved being a boy. Cindy and I talked everyday because that’s what best friends did. She never questioned what I was doing with my father because she knew I had to find my own way with regard to my sexuality. She didn’t say anything about our relationship and I wondered if I was still her best girlfriend?

“Cindy, am I changing?” I asked, after Dad and I finished the deck project.

“In what way?”

“You know, I wanted so badly to be a girl, but now I’m not sure. I love my parents and I love being a boy and I don’t want to hurt them.”

“Mark, you’re not a boy, trust me on that, and just because you did all that work with your father doesn’t make you one. Girls can do the same things as a boy, it’s just not expected of us.”

“Cindy, I just don’t know what I’m going to do?”

“Mark, everything will work itself out. If you’re supposed to be a boy then you’ll be one, but if you’re going to end up being a girl, don’t fight it. It will harm you more than doing nothing at all.”

“I’m just confused Cindy, I have to think about this some more, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling as the thought ran through my head. Was I really a girl like Cindy said? I still couldn’t bring myself to admit what she was saying was true. I knew how I felt after wearing that beautiful, oh so feminine dress and not wanting to take it off, but I did. The last two weeks spent with Dad working as we did made me rethink everything I thought I wanted after the photo shoot.

He taught me what a sixteen-penny nail was and how to toenail a board. I was allowed to cut the wood with a Skill saw and he taught me how to do it safely. , But was Cindy right? Was I a girl doing these masculine tasks and not even realized it? I didn’t feel any differently, it was quality time spent with my father. Nothing changed when I spoke with Cindy, I was just as well, girly as I always was, but then that was to be expected when we talked. It was no wonder Cindy thought of me as a girl, but did I think of myself as one? I didn’t know, because I didn’t know what a girl felt like. I knew how a boy felt, but was I just thinking my thoughts were masculine because I was a boy, or were my thoughts feminine and I was just in the wrong body? I’m a twelve year old boy that has no idea of who he is, or she is?”

Two weeks later Gloria called and asked if she could come over to talk to my mom. It was time for me to have my first modeling session with Lush Cosmetics. Things between my mother and Gloria had been strained since the night with the photos but Gloria had called everyday and seemed to have gotten back on my mother’s good side.

Mom and Gloria were sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee.

“Rachel, Mark has his first photo session with Lush next week. Luckily they use a studio in San Francisco so we don’t have to fly to New York and have them shoot Amanda there. The appointment is for Monday at nine AM. It will take all day and they will have their own people doing Amanda’s makeup. We’ll have to leave early, probably around four thirty in the morning so we miss the Sacramento traffic, but unfortunately will be stuck when we reach the Bay Area. Now, here’s the hard part, Mark will have to be Amanda from the time we leave until we return. We’re the only ones that know Amanda’s really a boy. He can wear the denim skirt and blouse outfit. The skirt will make him seem more like a girl when they see him.”

“Okay, I guess I can see your point and it’s only for a day, as much as I don’t like it,” Mom added.

“Rachel, I know this is hard on you, I can’t even imagine how I would feel if Cindy was a male model. I’d just die, but Mark has so much potential, and even you have to admit he’s a beautiful girl.”

“I just wish he wasn’t.”

The day of the shoot came and Mom woke me up at three-thirty.

“Get up sleepy head, it’s time to get ready. Go take a shower and here’s a new razor for you to shave your legs. You remember how I did it, don’t you?”

“Yes Mom,” I said, sleepily.

I adjusted the water in the shower and entered. After washing and shampooing my hair I went to the task of shaving. I lathered my leg and put my foot on the wall and drew the shaver up my leg. The femininity I had tried so hard to bury returned with a vengeance. This wasn’t a pretty dress making me feel special, but an action I was doing as a girl to make my legs look more feminine. As hard as it was to admit, Cindy was right, I was a girl and even if it was just for one day, I was going to be the very best girl I could be.

I finished my shower and dried myself. Mom had laid my clothes on the bed. I recognized the denim skirt and blouse from the photo shoot. Next to them was a pair of panties, a bra, and fillets I wore at the shoot. I was able to dress myself, which surprised me as I thought I would have trouble with the bra. Mom did my makeup and it was time for Gloria and Cindy to pick us up.

Cindy and I sat in back again and she held my hand, not like a boy and girl but two young girls holding hands to provide confidence. I felt so right at the moment.

The drive took all of four hours, so we just had time for a quick bite to eat before we went to the studio.

I’m not going to waste time telling every move I made from the moment we walked in the door so I’ll skip the part where the receptionist greets us.

I was led to a makeup studio next to the photo studio. There were two women waiting for me.

“You must be Amanda?” the first asked. ”I’m Shirley, and this is Karen my assistant.”

Shirley was a tall woman, a little over weight with a nice smile. She looked to be older than my mother, but my mom looks young for her age.

Karen was younger, maybe twenty-five, shorter and very pretty. Her makeup was perfect and it looked as though she had spent time with it.

“Hi,” I answered, shyly.

“You’re very pretty, young lady. You’re going to make my work easy,” she laughed. “Come and sit here. We have some work to do before we can make you pretty.”

I sat in the chair and wondered what she was talking about? I expected to just have makeup put on shoot some pictures and go home, I was wrong.

“When I saw your pictures, I couldn’t help seeing how beautiful you are, but there was something that bothered me. Your eyebrows have never been shaped. Luckily fuller brows are the fashion today so it won’t take long to make you pretty again,” Shirley laughed. Mom visibly paled.

Shirley took tweezers in hand and removed a few hairs above my nose and then a bit more above my eyes and finally a bit more at the end of my brows.

“There, better,” she stated.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror and she was right, they were better. They looked much like they had originally, except now they were feminine looking. I liked they way they looked, I’m not so sure about Mom.

“I’m going to have to remove your wig sweetie while I do your face. Karen will style it while I work on you.”

Shirley removed the wig and handed it to Karen.

“My, what did you do to your hair?”

“Amanda decided she wanted a boys cut and Cindy gave it to her. She had such beautiful hair before the cut,” Mom explained. It was obviously a story she had thought of knowing the question would be asked.

“Well don’t you do that again, young lady,” Shirley admonished, “You’re much too pretty to do that to yourself.”

Shirley went to work on my face. When Gloria had done my face she used some eye makeup and lip-gloss but Shirley did so much more. When she finished I looked like I was a fourteen year old girl, and I was spectacular.

“You’ll notice that you look a little older. That’s because we’re aiming for an older crowd since twelve-year old girls usually don’t buy makeup. As I change your makeup, you’ll look even older, until you’ll look like you’re twenty years old, but don’t worry, it will be tasteful.”

I was led into the photo studio to meet the photographer.

“Hello, Amanda, I’m Miranda Sterling and I’ll be taking your pictures today. Your last photographer did a wonderful job with your portfolio and I hope I can capture you as well as he did.”

“Hi,” I said, and gave a little wave.

“This will be fun Amanda, so let’s get started.”

Miranda placed me behind a table and had me sit.

“All I’m going to shoot is your face, so I’d like you to have a good time.
Miranda started shooting, asking me to pout, smile, frown, and all kinds of other expressions, and it was fun. She was really nice and made me laugh more than once. About an hour later she finished and asked me to return to see Shirley again. This routine continued for the rest of the day and we finally finished around five o’clock, a nearby restaurant had catered lunch.

“We’re all done here, Amanda, go see Shirley so she can remove your makeup. It wouldn’t do to have it ruin your beautiful complexion. You were wonderful to work with.”

Shirley removed my makeup, kissed my cheek and we said our goodbyes. Now all we had left was the long drive home.

School was out for the summer, which left me spending more time with Cindy.

“How did your photo session go?” she asked.

“It was fun.”

“How did Amanda feel about it?”

“How should she feel about it?”

“I don’t know, I just wondered if there were any issues with it?”

“Not really. I was just a face to put makeup on. I don’t think it had anything to do with being Amanda, or Mark for that matter.”

“You seemed torn between Amanda and Mark last week. You know there’s nothing wrong with being a girl and wanting to be a carpenter too?”

“I don’t want to be a carpenter, I was just helping my dad.”

“You love your father, don’t you?”

“Yes, I want to be just like him when I grow up.”

“You silly girl, you can be like your mother, not your father,” she giggled.

“But I can. You’re confusing me Cin. I don’t know what I want to do. I wish I could live as a girl to see if I really want to be one.”

“You already are a girl.”

“You know what I mean, dress as one live as one everyday for a year and then I’d know that I’m not just in love with the dress or some other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on Amanda, what happened?”

“It was when I shaved my legs before we went to San Francisco. When I did that I felt more like a girl than when I wore that dress. It felt so right.”

“See, I told you. Amanda you’re a girl. You can fight it all you want, but you’ll never change that fact. I don’t know why you don’t tell your parents?”

“God, you know my mom, she’d kill me.”

“Maybe not.”

“She would, trust me.”

“Do you want to try on some of my old clothes? They don’t fit me anymore and I’m sure they would fit you.”

“No, I’d better not. I’m having enough problems trying to deal with my feelings, but maybe later,” I said, leaving the door open to the suggestion.

Cindy had been growing as of late. She had gained four inches in the last three months and she had become softer looking. Puberty was definitely visiting Cindy Meyer.

Gloria called Mom two weeks later to inform her that I would be in the next month’s ads in all the women’s magazines as their featured model. She said Lush was beside themselves with excitement for the ads. She said I was going to be big in the industry.

Three days later an incident happened that would influence the rest of my life.