Angry Diary, by Karin Bishop

Part Three

5/2

Mom went out with Judy Friday night, and I told her I would be fine and she could stay over. I mean, I know what they’re up to, right? And they’re in love, Mom’s happy, and that’s that.

I made a pasta-for-one thing in the microwave and watched some silly comedy show, but one of the commercials had a girl with hair about the same color and length as mine, and it got me thinking about my hair. I’d loved how the ponytail had felt, and Mom had been okay with it. More than okay—I’d been wearing the high ponytail and ribbon when we’d gone to the movies!

It got me to wondering about other things to do with my hair. I checked out Mom’s pile of magazines on the coffee table, expecting Cosmo or something and was surprised to find the current Seventeen. I curled up on the couch and went through it, and there was an article on hair styles and some looked really neat, so I took the magazine to the bathroom, propped it up, pulled out Mom’s drawer of hair things and went to work.

I really had fun, as much as I could without actually cutting anything. I tried some of the styles in the magazine, and then some variations—I really liked playing with the clips I’d found in the drawer—and then learned how to braid, more or less. Also how to do a chignon, or at least a how to do a not-very-good chignon.

I suppose it was weird to be doing this, but, hey! I figured it didn’t hurt anybody and it kept me off the streets, right? I also tried some ponytail styles and even pigtails; and I wondered, is it just me or are pigtails always cute? I thought I looked cute, anyway. I mean, I looked like a doofus, but a cute doofus. Finally, with a sigh, I styled my hair in what they call a ‘sleep braid’ and went to bed.

Saturday morning, Mom called to say she’d be home around noon. I took a shower and noticed that my chest was swollen. Actually, there was a swelling underneath my nipples. And kind of around my hips. I guess all the exercises I’ve been doing have been for legs and tummy and the rest of me is getting soft.

One very cool thing happened: Okay, first I gotta say something very weird, and then I’ll get to the cool part. I have learned to dislike my penis. And testicles. They’re not very big, not like on guys I’ve seen, but they make a lump in my clothes, and they get caught on stuff. They’re just in the way, dangling there, so ever since that day I wore the cargo shorts, I’ve been tucking them between my legs and everything fits better. However, I have to let them dangle to clean them in the shower, then dry really carefully before tucking them back.

But today, I was so warm from the shower, and so relaxed, that as I was drying them, the testicles slipped right back up inside me, where they came from! Well, one went up, but then I did it with the other and it went up quite easily. That’s it, I thought, you’re staying up there, out of sight and out of mind and out of my underwear. It made tucking so much easier, and the front looks so much better now! Walking and sitting and everything just feels a lot better, too.

I wrapped the towel around my chest, and had my hair wrapped up in a smaller towel. I had a half grapefruit and some yogurt, and went to get dressed.

I forgot to mention that Mom had gone shopping for me while I was sick, so I had some new things to choose from and I put on a pair of khaki shorts and a red tank top. I was going to blow-dry my hair the way I usually did, but decided to bend at the waist, blow-dry it and then flip it back, like I’d seen in the magazine. It was amazingly full, even when I brushed it out, so I let it just flow over my shoulders.

I was putting laundry in the wash when Mom came home, quite happy. She told me I looked really nice and I felt wonderful.

About an hour after Mom got home (and after telling me about her plans with Judy for a long vacation), the phone rang and it was Susan McMillan. She asked if she could drop by to talk about the History project. While I’d been sick, I’d been assigned to be her partner, because we’d been kind of joking about it so she thought it would be okay with me. She’d started some work on it while I’d been out of school, but I sure needed to get going on it. Susan’s always been nice to me and she’s smart and fun so of course I said, “Sure, come on over,” and she said she was nearly here; she’d been talking on her cell phone.

Three minutes later, Susan was at my door and there was a weird moment where she looked at me, her mouth open, and I invited her in, and she was slow to move. Then she kind of shook herself and came in. I offered her some Pepsi or water; she took the water and we went to the dining room table. She had a backpack and pulled out school stuff, showing me what she’d done so far, and we started outlining the next part of the project.

One thing stuck in my mind: Susan was pointing stuff out on this map she found on the internet, and I noticed how cool her fingernail polish was, kind of clear but kind of blue and sparkly if you looked at it just right. It was like it was there and wasn’t there, you know? It made her hands look so great. And I realized that her nails weren’t any longer than mine, really. I just figured she worked on keeping ‘em in great shape.

Mom came through and liked how hard we were working. After about two hours, we had caught everything up for next week. Susan called her mom and packed up and she asked if I usually was dressed like I was. She was wearing a light blue top and denim shorts, so what was she talking about? I told her it was comfortable because it had gotten warm so early, and Mom had bought these clothes for me. She thought a bit and then asked if I wanted to go to the mall sometime, or come over to her place to hang or something.

I said, “Cool” and she said, “Cool” and so I guess it’s cool.

Anyway, she left about twenty minutes ago and I’m wondering, why did she act that way?

5/9

I tried wearing the yellow state fair shirt yesterday, and my chest is so swollen it looked like I had boobs. I think the meds are messing with me; I hope Judy can adjust things. At least, I guess that’s what’s supposed to happen, what I’m supposed to want. But … I kind of like them. My little boobs, I mean. But I’m going to have to wear baggy things to school. I hated my stupid old clothes, anyway. Now I hate them more.

5/10

Both Scotty and Susan are acting weird. Whenever I saw either one, they’d keep asking, “Is there something you want to talk about?”

I said, “No” and they just nodded—at different times, of course. I mean, that’s what was weird; they both had the same question and didn’t know the other had asked it. And both gave me the same strange nod.

Maybe there is something to talk about. I don’t feel like I fit in anywhere. I didn’t before my father died, either, but maybe I should just feel different.

I wonder if I should talk to Judy. They say you should have at least one grown-up you can talk to, that isn’t your parent. Well, she’s not my parent—yet!

5/12

I’m going to talk with Judy about everything that’s been happening; I phoned and she said to come over on Friday.

Susan McMillan wants to come over Saturday and work on the project. For some reason, that makes me really happy.

5/14

A lot to tell.

Well, I talked with Judy. I feel guilty because I didn’t talk to Mom about it, and that’s weird on so many levels, but I wasn’t doing the Doctor thing with Judy, or Mom’s Lover thing. Judy is just an adult I trust.

After school I took a bus to Judy’s office, only a buck and a half. Her receptionist looked at me strangely because I wasn’t in her appointment book and I guess this was break time for Judy, but she came out and told the girl she’d asked me to stop by, so it was cool.

All along I’ve been thinking about how much to tell Judy. I hadn’t really decided, but we got comfy in her office, she got me an orange juice and some water for herself, and I just told her everything.

Some of it she knew, some of it she’d guessed, whatever. She told me that I had an imbalance in my endocrine system, and had been undernourished for a long time and that either or both might account for physical things, like my size and other stuff. She said that science was divided on how much chemicals can affect thinking, about who you are, I mean. The inner, real you.

She asked me did I think I was homosexual, and I was so confused by the question that I choked up. I really, really, really never thought about it, so I said, “Probably not,” but she asked and then I thought of Scotty and that’s when I choked up. She asked me about Susan or other girls and I told her how cool Susan was, and pretty much all of the girls, I guess. Maybe not Gabrielle Stockton; she’s a Goth; or Yvonne Simon, who is just mean to everyone. Well, maybe she’s not a bitch, but she just seems angry all the time, and she—

Just as I wrote that, I was thinking that not too long ago, I was angry all the time, too. Oh, God! Does she have a father like I had? Poor Yvonne! Now I feel so sorry for her!

Judy asked me if I felt like the boys in school, if I identified myself as one of them. No way! Then she asked if I identified with the girls in school, and I started to automatically say ‘no way’, but felt a little tug or something, and I said, not really. I just felt more comfortable with them and thought they were cooler than the guys. I mean, duh, isn’t it obvious?

We even talked about different things, like maybe I should take up tennis or dancing or seriously get into swimming; Judy said they were all great exercise and a great way to get to know other people. They also weren’t the whole ‘team’ mindset that led to crazies like our Coach. Sure, there are tennis and swim teams, but they’re still kind of individual—although I pointed out that it took two to play tennis or dance. She nodded but pointed out that there was solo dance, too.

I guess I was tired from all the stress, because the sun was warm through her window and she was going on and on about chemicals and I just zoned out, but just for a moment, I think. I felt guilty about it because what she was talking about was important, but, hey, it happened, alright?

And her advice to me was to find my own way; don’t worry about what society or my peers think of me. “Find out who you are,” she said; everybody has to do it. She said not to worry about pigeonholes or stereotypes; just ‘be myself and discover myself’. I realized that it was what Judy and Mom had done, discovering themselves, and that they were much happier for having done so.

Needless to say, I felt great when she finished and asked her if I could call Mom before she left from work. I called Mom and told her I’d come to Judy to talk, and Mom was very cool with it and was going to come get me, but Judy said she was through for the day so she’d either take me home or we could meet somewhere.

We went to a big plaza I’d never been to before, with a Barnes & Noble, a sporting goods warehouse, and some smaller shops and restaurants. It was a pretty cool place. On the way over I told Judy that she could tell Mom what we’d talked about—any and all of it. She thanked me and said she’d think about it, but that I was very mature and honest.

Mom met us in front of Barnes & Noble. She and Judy did a great little hug; it looked like every other two women greeting each other but I knew there was more to it. Anyway, Mom said, “Shop, eat; or eat, shop?” and I realized they’d been planning this evening and I was in the way, so I told them I was going to BN but they said, no, no, come with us, it’ll be fun. Mom said she needed my ‘keen eye’, whatever that meant.

It meant ‘shop, eat’, and the shopping was at the sports place for a tennis outfit for Mom! She’d been getting healthier and stronger and had tried some tennis at her club, liked it, and was going on a ‘tennis date’ with Judy this weekend, so we were here to get her outfitted.

She’d pull things off the rack and turn to me, then to Judy; I’d yea it or nay it, always deferring to Judy. Mom looked down and her hair flopped over her face—she’s been letting it get long like mine—and I told her she needed a scrunchie.

Mom said, “Oh, no, they’re for younger women” but Judy and I ganged up on her. She turned to me and said, “Okay, I will if you will!” and tossed a white scrunchie to me. I told her it was too weird with my school clothes and gave it back to her, although I really liked it.

She said maybe we should all take up tennis. Judy looked at me strangely and said, “My treat; let’s get you some gear.” I protested that I’d never played; what if I hated it? Then she’d have spent money for nothing.

Scored a point, I thought, but Judy said, reasonably, to get the clothes and they can be worn anywhere; rent a racket and try it and if I didn’t like it, I still had new clothes. Couldn’t argue with that. Except … the idea of a white polo shirt and white shorts didn’t thrill me. Mom said I should look at the unisex racks and pulled out the nicest tops.

I okayed a light blue and a light lime green for Mom, and she okayed the same for me. The only weird thing is that the blue one had a scoop neck and what Mom called ‘cap sleeves’ and the lime green was sleeveless. They also had tennis skirts, which weren’t for me, of course, but Judy said, “What about this skort?” and held up something. Mom tried it on and it was like shorts in the back with a panel in front so it looked like a skirt, and she looked great. Her legs have really toned up with her exercising, but she was still really pale. I told her to not forget the sunblock, and she told Judy that I was the one in the family with great legs! I almost died of embarrassment, but Judy didn’t laugh; she said she’d like to see them sometime and there was this strange silence.

Suddenly I knew how to fix things, so I took the light blue top to the rack, pulled out a darker blue skort that looked like my waist size and went into the changing room. Part of my mind was screaming ‘What are you doing?’ and part was excited and wanting to try the thing on. It was really simple, just shorts and this front panel thing, and looking at my legs under it, I told myself that they were shorts, after all, and from the front it didn’t look any different than a short apron.

I came out and went ‘Ta-dah!’ and threw my hands up and cocked a knee forward, and Mom kind of went ‘whoa’ and even Judy was shocked. Then she shocked me when she said, “Sen-sa-tional legs!”

Then I felt embarrassed and quickly pulled my hands down and stood behind a rack, blushing, I’m sure. Mom rushed over and hugged me and told me I looked fantastic, she was so proud of me, and she loved me.

A bit of overkill for the moment, I thought, but I was reassured and stepped out again.

The weird thing was, well, my chest. Nobody said anything, and I couldn’t tell if Mom and Judy had been concentrating on my legs, or were just being polite, but I have, well, some development.

I’ve been hiding it at school by wearing baggy shirts, and since it’s been getting hotter, I found some of my old t-shirts that I stopped wearing because they were too tight. But now they’re tight enough that they keep ‘my development’ flattened.

In the reading I’ve been doing recently, I’ve run across the word ‘gynecomastia’. A perfectly normal condition that hits some boys and leaves them as well. So maybe my development, my … two developments … are normal and would leave at some point.

But I’ve been kind of feeling that I don’t want them to leave. At night I’ve kind of cradled them in my palms, and the feeling is so nice but so weird. Judy doesn’t do the stethoscope test every time I see her, so from whenever the last one was until now, I’ve got enlarged nipples and, well, little mounds. That’s all I call them; all I can call them, until Judy thoroughly checks me out.

So standing there going ‘Ta-dah!’ with Mom and Judy smiling at my legs, nothing was said about the fact that I had little mounds under the blue top. Did they see and decide not to comment? Or were they just accepting it as a matter of course?

Judy said nothing about my top but focused higher, saying that now I could wear the scrunchie, and I quickly put on the white one, deciding ‘what the hell’ and pulled my hair up on the top back of my head. There was a three-way mirror behind me, so I turned this way and that and I looked, well, I looked ‘sen-sa-tional’ and told my screaming mind to shut the hell up. Mom looked a little misty; I guess she was happy to be with Judy and me. And that was more important to me than any old voice screaming in my head!

Judy took Mom over to look at rackets and I went to find shoes. I really liked the Keds that Mom had loaned me, but I knew they weren’t really good for tennis. The men and boys’ shoes all looked huge and chunky. One of the things about being 5'2" was that nothing really fits very well. I looked over at the women’s department, and aside from obvious pink things, the shoes were mostly white.

I had a sudden surge of determination, a strange sense that I was somehow taking control. Of what, I wasn’t sure, but I felt weirdly confident that this was the way I had to go.

I got one of those black and chrome gadgets, flipped it to the women’s and girls’ sizes, stepped on it, slid the thingie and got my size, and went looking. I found two pair that I liked, and tried them both. I was barefoot, but there was a basket with little stocking things and short socks. I figured they were for sanitary reasons so I put on a pair and tried the shoes, and decided. I took the shoebox and went to find Mom and Judy.

They were getting accessories, sweatbands and stuff, and smiled hugely when they saw me. I showed Mom the shoes and she agreed. Judy suggested some of the socklet things, and Mom handed me several. I was going to go change, but Mom asked if I wanted to wear my new things. What the heck, I thought, they were comfortable and new, and I liked them a lot better than my school clothes. I wasn’t going to play tennis right now, but they said they looked fine for regular wear, and I guess Judy had been right about that—we’d find out later if I liked to play tennis!

The clerk scanned my tags and cut them off; we paid for everything, dumped all the bags in the car and went to a restaurant with a huge salad bar. We had a wonderful meal, like we always did, mostly talking about tennis and when Mom asked me if my school offered tennis, Judy and I looked at each other. I nodded, and we both told Mom about our talk.

Mom’s face went through all these strange changes as we told her, and when we were done she tilted her head and asked what I wanted to do. I smiled and said, “I’m doing it.”

Judy smiled and nodded, but Mom didn’t get it. I told Mom I was finding out who I was. Mom seemed to understand, and squeezed my hand and smiled. I think she was close to tears; her eyes glistened.

We said goodbye to Judy—more hugs all around—and on the way home Mom stopped at a grocery store. She told me what produce to get, and we met up at the check stand. Only paying half attention, I gazed at our stuff going by on the conveyor and snapped awake and looked at Mom. She smiled and nodded, and I saw the teen girl magazines and moisturizers and stuff, and a small bottle of the same nail polish Susan had been wearing.

All Mom said on the way home was, she knew I’d liked it—Susan’s polish. Then she said that we should both find out who I was.

I swear to God, it wasn’t until I walked in our house that I realized that I was in the blue top, skort, and shoes. And I’d been to the grocery dressed like this? And wearing a scrunchie? On a high ponytail!

Mom chuckled and said something about ‘the cow’s already out of the barn’. The point being that I’d been mostly dressed like a girl, and not one person saw anything wrong with it.

Hmm …

Later, Mom taught me how to put on nail polish. My nails are in great shape thanks to the manicure kit, and I’ve been letting them grow a bit. I just like how they look; I don’t know why. Anyway, I put on two coats of the blue polish, and although there was no sunlight to catch the sparkle, I loved the look. I couldn’t resist—I put two coats on my toenails, too! I watched a little TV while they dried, and I put my feet up on the edge of the coffee table, so I could look at my toes. They looked so cute!

I got ready for bed, in my usual soft gray sleepshirt—I love it so much I practically wear it every night—and Mom took me to the bathroom and showed me the things she’d bought. She showed me how to wash and moisturize. She gave me a white hairband to hold my hair back, and asked if I wanted her to sleep braid it, so she quickly did that while she was giving me some tips on hair.

Then, my face all shiny and clean, I looked at us in the mirror, and oh my God—we looked like mother and daughter! Much more than we ever had as mother and son! I think Mom saw it too, because her hand flew up to her mouth and her eyes widened. All I could say was, “Oh, Mom.” We hugged and she led me back to my bedroom.

It was the sweetest goodnight I can remember since I was very little.

End of Part Three