So, what to wear; will he want or maybe expect girly or is that a cliché?
Somewhere a little on the girl side of middle will have to do.

The idea for this has been rolling about a while. Various things I've read mixed with some personal experience and no, I haven't had this particular interview. One of these days…

This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright KLS 2008.

The Interview

By Kristina.L.S.

The second cup of coffee helped to open the eyes and get the blood moving. I'd worry about finding a loo nearer the appointment time. Guaranteed I'd need it. Even with food, which for some reason I couldn't face this morning, coffee had a slightly draining effect a few hours later. Thank god it wasn't till 10.30. At least I had a few hours to look semi normal; normal was probably a stretch on a good day, but hey... I'd give it a go.

So, what to wear; will he want or maybe expect girly or is that a cliché? I stood there in thought for a few minutes, mentally running through my meagre wardrobe.

Somewhere a little on the girl side of middle will have to do. Stripping off the old T and cotton beach pants that served as jammies, I stood naked and appraised the reflection in the mirror. Long and lanky, knobby knees and feet and hands a smidgen bigger than they should be. Face, well… not too bad but hardly Elle Macpherson…then who was. Figure? Naeah… Not bad. The boy bits were a little smaller than they used to be but still sort of worked, not that that was a plus. Bubbies a smallish B, well hey, they were all mine and felt good. As long as you didn't run…how the hell any woman could run with those bouncing about I'd never know. I actually liked running so favoured sports bras, what a glamour puss huh. Yeah well tight budget, so multi purpose won over glamour mostly.

Slipping on the pale blue lycra briefs and matching bra took a few seconds as I pondered the outer layer. It was a bit overcast so something with a little warmth.

Sheer pantyhose a faded cotton cami T and a twill mans shirt loosely tied on top and to bottom it off a full cotton circle skirt falling mid calf. That crá¨me frangipani print outline on the navy looked pretty good I thought. Matched the shirt and set off the faded red cami. Shoes? Hmm… the slip on suede flats in charcoal that matched the pouched shoulder bag.

Ah the face. A quick slap of moisturiser followed by some finger-smoothed foundation, dash of eyeliner and a swipe of smoky grey shadow. A dusky rose blush brushed on the cheekbones and antique rose on the lips. Hmm, too dark? No it's fine. Then the sealer, a dusting of powder to set it all and give that smooth un-made up glow. Snort, as if.

Jewellery? What bloody jewellery? I had a ropey gold chain and one inch hoop sleepers on… well they almost never came off, that covered the jewellery thing. Watch? Nah had the mobile, that'd do. Quick squirt of red door… grab the bag and out the door.

Christ where did that hour go? Traffic might be a bitch and I do not want to be late.

Made it in and across the city with twenty minutes to spare. Coffee? Hell no, I'd be squirming soon enough. Found a Maccas and used their loo. Did a quick touch up and popped a breath mint, can't be too damn careful can you, not that I'd be kissing the bastard, but even so. First impressions and all that. Bloody hell, girly etiquette lessons and I already knew I'd be watching the posture and deportment so much I'd probably walk into the glass door and break my nose. Well it was fractionally bigger than desired and needed a trim. Might not be the way to go though. Took long enough to work on the voice as is… didn't want to start sounding like Fran Drescher.

Ok, ten minutes. Might as well go in and wait.

The lift pinged and my stomach was tumbling about, though the lift had little to do with it I think. At least the receptionist seems nice.

"Hi I have a…"

"Yes, do you have a referral? Ok, good just take a seat; he'll be with you shortly. " She wandered off with my envelope in hand.

Bloody hell girl why so nervous, you've done this before? Well sort of. Yeah well I was nervous as hell that first time too. This time he's supposed to be a bit of a bastard. Test the mettle, see if you add up. Shit, me add up? Crap, let's see, Who Weekly, Cosmo, the local paper or Wheels. Pulled the phone, ok he's late… and you've crossed your legs five times in as many minutes.

"He'll see you now, just down the hall, knock and enter. "

I stood and looked where she pointed. A short hallway with a door at the end. Felt sort of like the gallows for some reason. Some imagination huh.

A moment later I knocked, heard a muffled, " come…" and opened the door.

I stopped with my hand on the door knob half through the door and took in the room.

A view across to the south of the city, book shelf along one wall, crammed with files and medical texts. Two chairs my side looking comfy enough and a desk right of centre. The big leather chair behind that desk held a figure that seemed tall and solid. He was slouched down and stretched with his ankles crossed in front of the flat monitor and gazing over his half glasses at the screen, his hands crossed on his chest. He looked more like an eccentric truck driver than a psychiatrist. Without moving he spoke.

"Here, before you sit, take a look. How is old Bradley by the way?" He flicked what I assumed was my referral so I guessed he meant my regular psych, Dr Brad Whitstone.

Moving so I could see the screen I took in the images of me entering the reception room and sitting and waiting and then walking down the hall. Trying to be objective I looked ok… not too manic anyway. Damn I need to pee again.

"Take a seat" So I did as he dropped his feet and rested his still crossed hands on the desk.

"So, you want to get your boy bits rearranged into some approximation of girl bits, hmm?"

"Um, yes… that's right."

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Um.." Shit stop umming. "Well, I suppose so that I can look and feel the way I should."

"… the way you should. I see. Isn't that just a little mad. Destroying perfectly good tissue and organs to cater to some psychological insecurity?"

Shit I had been warned he was a hard arsed bastard, but… ooh boy. " Well if it's an insecurity I've had it for a long time and if I'm mad then there's plenty more that're madder. A regular possessor of these, um, bits… would likely scream and cringe at the idea. But then I guess I'm irregular."

"Indeed so, but does that mean we the medical professionals whose job it is to oversee the health of society should cater to the whims of the, ah irregular amongst us?"

"Well I think a thirty year whim deserves some overseeing, don't you?" The first sign of expression crossed his face then as he twitched the corner of his mouth in… amusement?

He leant forward a little, "So got a boyfriend have you? Some other irregular that wants to pretend he's a normal man by fucking some vague impost of womanhood?"

Ah, I had to smile at that one, " A boyfriend? Hell I don't have a boyfriend or a girlfriend or many other friend friends, or a fucking family or a damn career or even a stable job because that whim of mine gets in the way and upsets people. So if it's all the same to you and it doesn't offend your ethical overseeing I'd like to get it sorted. I mean I'd hate to waste all that angst and anger. Not to mention depression."

"Depression?"

"Yes, funnily enough I get a little depressed every now and then. Being the object of so much admiration and love gets me down sometimes. The next paparazzo that snaps me in public is gonna get his Canon telephoto shoved up his arse and his tongue nailed with a wide swung Manolo." I sighed as he sat watching, unmoving.

"Yeah, well I get a little depressed sometimes", I tried to stop shifting in my chair. "I get lonely and feel sorry for myself ok. The old why me's I guess, but hell why not. I have as much right to screwiness as the next person. I worry about selfishness and the pain it causes others and wonder at the anger that seems to come from nowhere from people I don't know and why it has to be me that walks away. And I.. well it's simply about being me. Not sex or clothes or any of the other so called feminine accoutrements. Yes I wear a skirt and I do have some makeup on and part of me enjoys and feels right doing it. But it's not that…"

"So you wear skirts and makeup and yet that is not part of it? So if I were to say, fine we will cater to your whim if you never wear a skirt or a dress or makeup or anything considered feminine again. You can be female as far as your documentation and to the degree medicine can achieve it, but you can't show it openly, ever.. what then?"

"Then? Then I guess I'd agree and say screw you silently and do what I wanted later. And if I couldn't I suppose part of me would feel as I do now. Incomplete somehow, left out and excluded. Always some rule or something to get past. I don't know; do you expect people sitting here to lie to you? To try any way they can to get you to nod? Part of me might want to, but I can't… I never could. Maybe that's partly why I'm here."

I could feel a tear trickle down at that point. I knew I'd blown it. No way would he say yes. He'd as good as proved it wasn't purely body image. Bastard didn't move, just sat there looking.

"Look, what do you want? My life story and all the points that got me thinking about what is a boy or girl and why am I different to him or her or whoever. Do I pass some test that says I'm more girl than boy and do I walk and talk right? Do I present well? Do I respond to colour or body language and do I track the direction of sound accurately? Can I read a bloody map? Do I know your check shirt does not match your pinstriped pants? Is that award there crooked? Hell… there's a million possible questions and as many answers. I may not be little miss perfect girl. I don't do frills, I swear a bit and drink too much. I work on cars, though that's more cost than desire, but it can be satisfying. I cry at sappy movies and even ads on telly. I don't care much for sports but I can watch some and enjoy. I work and live and try to be a regular person. I just want to feel better when I stand naked in the shower. Even if no one else ever joins me, I'll be me." I lapsed into silence not sure where to go next. What did he want?

"Your life story? Not much there really is there. I read it a week back. At least so far as Brad had noted it. Underachiever and chronic loner seems about it. So if you get your wish are you going to slide into depression because you need some other crutch to lean on and off yourself in the bath? I know you tried once before."

"I… um, I didn't try really. I got close I guess but I walked away and I think I'm past that point now. If I was going to kill myself I'd have done it years ago. "

"So what makes you, a too tall gawky looking imitation woman think you can live your life and be happy as some castrated freak of nature? A laughable mockery of that you desire to be. You can't have family unless you attach yourself to someone elses. In all likelihood you will live and die alone, trying to prove a point to whoever wants to take note. Prince Charming doesn't want you and Princess Charming isn't interested either. So what do you want out of this?"

"Um, I suppose all that may be true. Maybe no one does want me and never will. But that's no more or less than a lot of others. I just want to feel comfortable to be me. Anything else is… well dreams. Nobody knows, do they?"

He twitched again and the smile got wider as he sat back. Somehow it became a conversation then, not a confrontation and the next hour and a half drifted by as he chatted about all sorts and listened to my answers and bounced topics about. He was good to talk to, imagine that.

He actually got up to see me out, all the way to the front door and bade me, " Have a good day my dear. Give my regards to Bradley."

I rode down in the lift trying to decide whether I'd screwed up royally or passed somehow. I noted almost absently the sun was out and it was a lovely day. For some reason I had a wide smile on my face and people I passed smiled back. A nice gentle Summers day, what's not to smile at. Gee I can be a silly bitch sometimes. I think I laughed out loud. 'Sum-mer-time and the livin' is eeeasy… That wasn't so hard. I do need a loo though.'