Chapter 1. Coming Out.

"Who are YOU?" said the Caterpillar.
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, "I--I hardly know, sir, just at present-- at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then."

– Lewis Caroll, Alice in Wonderland

It was Friday. I left work early. Today was the day. I had rehearsed it dozens of times. None of them were right. It didn't matter. I couldn't wait any longer. I walked into the house. Helen was in the kitchen. "We need to talk." So much for rehearsal.

"We need to talk? She looked surprised. "About what?"

"About me."

"You?"

"Yes."

"I know you've been working really hard lately. Do you want to take a vacation? We could visit the kids. Or just go somewhere and relax. I don't care."

"No, me as in us."

"What?" Her eyes went wide. "You're leaving me. Oh no, please no. I, I, know things have been difficult the last few years, we've seemed to grow apart, but we can work it out."

"No, I'm not leaving you. I'm leaving me."

"That doesn't make any sense."

Please, let's go in the living room and sit down, so I can explain." I took her hand and walked her to the sofa. I sat down beside her. "There's no easy way for me to say this. I'm transgendered." She just looked at me with a blank expression. "I've tried for so long, but now its time for me."

She pulled her hand away. "It's not possible. You're not gay. I would know."

"No, not gay. Transgendered. I'm not in love with another man. I love you. But I hate my body. I should have been born a woman. Now it's time for me to correct that mistake."

"Correct it? How?" She paused. Her eyes went wide. She put her hand to her mouth. "Oh my God, you mean you, you wouldn't. How could you do that to yourself?"

"I'm not doing anything to myself. Nature did it to me."

"What about me, George? What about the children? Nature didn't do anything to us. What about your work? It took you years to build your practice. You can't just give it, you can't just give us, up without thinking it through."

"I have thought it through. For the last forty years I have done nothing but think it through. For my parents' sake, I was their son. For your sake, I was your husband. For the kids sake, I was their father. But my parents are gone. The kids are grown. Over the last few months I have been transferring my clients to the other CPA's and now I'm doing mostly management. Whatever you want or need, the house, our savings, it doesn't matter. I owe you that."

"Owe me?" Owe me!" She waved her arms. "What the hell George. Do you think I married you for a house or money? I want the man," she emphasized man,"I married. That's what I want." She stopped and composed herself. "Look, isn't there some way we can work this out? If it will make you happy, you can wear a dress or whatever around the house. I mean, how do you know you're a woman if you've never been a woman? Try it before you make a decision you can't take back. You'll see. It isn't that wonderful. I get up an hour before you do to do my hair and put on my makeup. You're already in bed while I'm still going through my nighttime routine. You pay $25 for a haircut. I pay $175 to have my hair done and another $35 for a mani-pedi. You wear the same suit and comfortable shoes when we go out. I spend hundreds of dollars for a dress that I wear a few times and heels that I can barely walk in. Why would you choose to be a woman, if you weren't born one?"

"It's not a matter of choice. Grace is who I was born."

"Grace? Who is Grace?"

"I'm Grace."

"Okay, if you're Grace, then where's George? What happened to him?"

"Nothing happened to him. He never existed."

"My compliments to Grace as an actress. She had me fooled. All these years, I thought my husband was a man. I wonder who got me pregnant. Twice. Not Grace."

"I'm sorry, Helen. I know this is confusing. I wish you would come with me to see Dr. Rosen."

"Dr. Rosen? Who is he?"

"Roberta Rosen. She's a psychiatrist who I've been working with."

"For how long has this been going on?"

"Since I made up my mind to come out. Over a year."

"You've been seeing her for more than a year and this is just coming out now?

"No, not coming out as in telling you. Well, yes, that too. Coming out to the world as Grace."

"Why wait? You don't seem to care who you hurt."

"Helen, no, I do care. I care very much. That's why it has been such a difficult decision that took me months of counseling to make."

"So she's the one who told you to do this?"

"No. She's the one who helped me to do this."

"I would like to see her, George. I have some things that I want to say to her about you. About us. If she's a doctor, she should be helping you to get over this, not confusing you."

"I see her on Wednesday afternoons. You can come with me. In the meantime, it's been a long day and I am very tired. I should sleep in the guest room. I'll move my things. Good night. I'm sorry. I, I, don't know. I hoped, I wanted, I thought it might, that I might, that it would go better. I love you." I left Helen on the couch and went upstairs.

I changed into my pajamas and was about to get into bed when there was there was a knock on the door. "Can I come in, please?"

"Yes, of course."

"I know that this must be very hard for you. I'm the one who should apologize. Our wedding vows, for better or for worse. You deserved better." She looked at me and shook her head. "Women only wear men's pajama tops." Anyway, here." She held out something. I took it from her. "I got this for working at the garden club sale." It was a pale pink t-shirt with a bouquet of red roses on the front. "I thought I was taking an M, but instead it was XXL. It's much to big for me." And here." She handed me a bottle. "It's a citrus facial scrub. A woman's skin is her second most important feature." I looked down at my chest. "No, it's our hair. You're lacking in that department too. Good night." She went back into our bedroom. I could hear her crying.

The next morning I waited until I heard Helen in the kitchen. I shaved, got dressed and went downstairs. "Good morning."

She turned. "Grace needs some serious help with her wardrobe."

"I thought you wanted George back?"

"I do, but I'm not going to get him, am I?"

"No."

"Well, if my husband is gone, then I will have to learn to live with Grace." She thought for a bit. "So what does that make me? Her sister? Her girlfriend? Her roommate? Gay women refer to their partner as a wife. Is Grace my wife? I need to know how to introduce you." She thought some more. "If your not gay and I have a wife, am I?"

"Honestly, I thought that you would refer to me as your transgendered ex-husband. I hadn't considered the possibility of an alternative. For now, I think just Grace."

"And where did the name Grace come from? Why not something sexy or exotic? Not that I have anything against Grace. Its just kind of old fashioned."

"I have no illusions that I will ever be either sexy or exotic. Grace was the prettiest and most popular girl in the third grade, with long blonde hair, she usually wore it in pig tails with bows, and big blue eyes. I knew I wanted to be her. To wear dresses with petticoats and black patent leather shoes with straps. I just didn't understand why."

"Why didn't you say something to your parents?"

"I was afraid. I wanted to, but I couldn't. At first, I didn't understand. I knew that I was different, but not the reason. Being transgendered wasn't something that was openly discussed in those days. As I got older, I realized what it was, but I couldn't talk to my parents. They wouldn't have accepted it. Being gay, I don't think they even made a distinction for transgendered, was considered a form of mental illness. At best, Dad would have told me to stop the nonsense, warned me that if he caught me fooling around, as he would have put it, I would get the licking of my life, maybe threaten to ship me off to military school to make a man of me. At worst, I'd be sent for counseling to cure me and, if not, then it wasn't unusual for parents to disown children or at least send them away where they couldn't be an embarrassment."

"Oh."

"I heard you crying last night."

"Yes, the song is right."

"What song?"

"I thought you were good with '60's pop trivia. The Frankie Valli song, you know, 'big girls don't cry. La, la, la. That's just an alibi.' We do. It's our coping mechanism." She looked me over and shook her head. "Grace has a long way to go. There's more to being a woman than not having balls. You know the saying."

"Another song?"

"No, 'pretty is as pretty does." She smiled." You need less talking and more doing. I know, lets go shopping. That always makes a woman feel better."

"Shopping for you?"

"Yes, of course. I need a big strong man to push the cart and protect my pocketbook while I go into the dressing room and try on clothes."

"Last night I thought you were against my coming out."

"That was last night."

"I know what you're doing."

"That makes one of us."

"Reverse psychology. You think that if you go along with me, I'll get over my whimsy."

"Even if that were true, what difference does it make. You told me Grace is her to stay. What harm is there if I choose to believe otherwise."

"I don't want you to be disappointed."

"I'm already disappointed. I don't think there's really a superlative for disappointment."

"Look," I pointed to a glass of orange juice on the table. "Pretend that's a magic potion that will permanently change your gender. Last night you told me it was better to be a man than a woman. Will you dink it?"

She shook her head. "I'm a woman and I like being a woman. I don't want to be a man."

I picked up the glass and drank it. "Neither do I."

Chapter 2. Going Out.

“I can't go back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”

– Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

"How about a compromise?" she bargained. "I promise that I'll do everything I can to help you experience what it's like to be a woman, a complete wardrobe and personal make over, but Grace stays at home until we see Dr. Rosen. If you're still determined to be transgendered, then we can go away, someplace where nobody will know us. I don't want to change our life until we're both," she emphasized both, "ready." She looked at me hopefully.

"I will always be transgendered. That's not going to change. But I don't mind postponing my debut, if it will make it easier for you. Patience is one of Grace's many virtues."

"I hope housekeeping is another one. There's no end of fun to being a woman."

"I never expected it to be easy. Besides, we have a cleaning service."

"Finish your breakfast. A glass of magic potion won't get you through a day of shopping."

"Maybe I should skip breakfast."

"That's what girdles are for. There's nothing like having your body compressed into an unnatural shape for the sake of fashion. I told you, being a woman is non-stop fun. You can start right in."

There was no sense arguing with her. I got myself a bowl of cornflakes and some milk and fruit from the 'fridge. "We should at least buy skim milk and Special K."

"When Grace does the grocery shopping, she can buy whatever she wants. Right now, she needs to do less talking and more eating, if she wants to have enough time to shop."

It was a bossy side of Helen I hadn't seen before, but maybe she was compensating for being uncomfortable or nervous. She had every reason to be stressed about taking her husband shopping for women's clothes. Not that her attitude mattered. And she was calling me Grace. "Okay, Honey." She frowned. "Sorry, old habits die hard. "Okay, Helen." I spooned up the last of the cereal, rinsed the bowl and put it in the dishwasher. "I'm Ready."

"Is Grace driving or am I?"

"George is driving."

"I thought George was a fiction of Grace's imagination?"

"Grace's driver's license still says George."

"Graces driver's license still says male."

"Can we go, please? I'll drive." She conceded and got into the passenger's side of my car. I pulled out of the garage and stopped at the end of the driveway. "Where are we going?"

"Where would you like to go?"

"I don't know, this is all new to me."

"You've never worn women's clothes before?"

"I would sneak into my mother's room and try on her clothes, but there wasn't a lot that I could fit into by the time I got up the courage to do it and I was always worried that I would get caught. Later, when I was living on m own, I bought some things, but it was really uncomfortable shopping for myself in those days. The saleswomen were much more attentive and lingerie was behind the counter, so you had to ask for it. I would look through magazines or the JC Penny and Sears catalogs for clothes. Then I would write down a description in my imitation of feminine script, go to the store, show the note to the saleswoman and pretend that I was buying it for my mother or sister. My guess is that they knew, but didn't want to pass up a sale, as long as we maintained the illusion. An early version of don't ask, don't tell. I never really had much of anything that went together. As the woman who has everything, what do you think?"

"I suggest we start with some basic skirts and dresses. That way, we can be sure Grace has the right bras and underpants to go with her outfits?"

"I thought women called them panties?"

"Some do. Some don't. To me panties are the skimpy, lace trimmed nylon ones for which we pay $25 to look pretty in case we get hit by a bus and have to hand wash if we don't. Underpants are the comfortable cotton ones that come in three packs, cost $12 and get thrown in the washer, if we avoid hospitalization."

"Oh."

"I take it by your disappointment, that Grace likes panties." I nodded and she smiled. "Don't go by me. You'll see. I'm in the minority. When we get to the lingerie section, there's a sea of panties and a couple of racks of underpants against the back wall. Grace can be as femmy as she wants. Okay?"

"Okay."

Helen thought for a minute. "Lets go to the mall."

We pulled out and headed towards the highway. Suddenly, Helen turned to me. "I've changed my mind."

"We're not going to the mall? You want me to turn around?"

"Yes and no. Yes, we're not going to the mall. No, we're not going home. We're going to Kohls."

"You're worried about being seen shopping with me?"

"Honestly, no. Nobody cares about a woman dragging her husband along while she shops for clothes. All you need to do is follow me around and look grumpy." She paused in thought. "I always wondered why you didn't want to go with me. Now it makes sense. It wasn't that you didn't want to shop. It was because you did."

"Yes," I admitted.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. It's society's. Boys are boys and girls are girls and never the twain shall meet. I did my best to make you believe that."

"I suppose well done is not comforting."

"No, but it served its purpose."

"A frustrating purpose."

"A necessary purpose. So, are we shopping or commiserating?"

"Both. Um, where was I?"

"Explaining your choice of venues."

"I never thought of it that way. Anyway, the mall has nicer stores, but I'm thinking that for now you just need the basics. The discount department stores like Kohls have a good selection and there are fewer sales people about, which makes it easier to browse. Turn left on Washington and head towards Oakdale. Kohls also has a really good 'no questions asked' policy on returns, turn right at the next light.

Chapter 3. Being Out.

"Alice, you cannot live your life to please others. The choice must be yours, because when you step out to face that creature, you will step out alone."
– Mirana, the White Queen, Alice in Wonderland 2010

Helen looked around and headed towards the women's section. "What should we look at first? Skirts? Dresses?" I shrugged. "Really? All those years of anticipation and now its up to me. That's a lot of pressure." Her face lit up. "I know what you want!"

"Really, how?"

"You told me."

"When?"

"When you were explaining about Grace. You want a pretty party dress with petticoats."

I look down sheepishly. "

"Sorry, Sweetie," as if she was talking to a little girl, "but the full slips with the lacy bodice and layers of frills you remember went out in the 50's. They did make you feel like a princess when you got dressed up," she reminisced. "I remember that my parents took me to Disney World when I was five or six. Mom bought me a Cinderella dress. It had a big full skirt, pale blue silk and white lacy cap sleeves. I wore one of those petticoats under it. There was a sparkly tiara and magic wand too. I have no idea why Cinderella had a magic wand. Her fairy godmother was the one who cast the spell." She waved her hand in a circle and then pointed at me, "bibbity, bobbity, boo." She tilted her head. "Nope. Only works on vegetables and rodents. Sorry." Suddenly she looked at me with compassion. "Oh, you poor dear. Now I understand how hard it must have been for you growing up. All of my memories of being a girl. You'll never have them."

"I can't go back, only forward."

"Maybe you can."

"You brought a time machine in your pocketbook?"

"No, but some things are timeless. I can't turn you into Cinderella. That pumpkin has already left. But you remember Grace when she was a school girl. I can do that. A jumper" she suggested excitedly, "with a blouse and knee socks or tights. A pleated skirt. Or a kilt. Wait here." Before I could say anything she walked over to a woman folding clothes. There was a brief conversation. The woman shook her head. There was another exchange. The woman pointed towards the back of the store. Helen came back and took my arm. "C'mon." I resisted. She tugged. "C'mon," she repeated.

I looked around cautiously. "Shouldn't I be grumpy?"

"I don't care. Grumpy, Happy, Bashful, pick a dwarf, but lets go." She dragged me along. We wandered around while she inspected racks of clothes and then she saw whatever it was she was trying to find. She brought me over and picked out what looked like bib overalls, but it had a skirt instead of legs. She held it up in front of her with her one hand and flattened it against her stomach with the other. "Do you think Grace would like this? She displayed it by swinging from side to side. "It's corduroy and comes in, lets see," she rummaged around,"brown, oh, here's navy and dark blue and hunter green." Do you think Grace has a preference? I like the blue, but... ."

I looked around. There were a couple of women sorting through a rack of clothes nearby and chatting. Nobody was paying us any attention. "I think she would like the blue."

"What size? The large looks about right, but its loose fitting, maybe the medium," she debated with herself. "Turn around."

"What?"

"Turn around. I want to measure it against you."

"I thought we left Grace at home."

"We did. She just happens to be your size. Really, just turn around. Trust me, nobody cares."

I did as she asked and felt her holding it against my back. "I don't know, probably the large. Better too big than too small. We can always take it in or take it back." She took my arm. We went over to the blouses and Helen picked out a white one with a rounded collar. She slid it under the straps of the jumper and held it out for my approval. I nodded. "Turn around." This time I did it without protest. "Probably a large or extra large." We took both.

We continued shopping and Grace ended up with a blue and green tartan plaid wool kilt with two leather buckles, paired with a blue sweater set. In the hosiery department, Helen picked out a pair of wool cable knit knee sox and blue nylon tights. "You don't need a bra for now. Just a camisole. And panties of course." Shoes were a problem. The largest size was 10. "Lets take what we have and go home, so you," she caught herself, "so Grace can try them on. We can go for shoes and do returns tomorrow." We headed back to the car with our arms loaded with bags.

When we got home, Helen went upstairs and ran a bath for me. It smelled like lilacs. I always showered, so this was a treat. Even more so when Helen came in with a pink razor and shaving gel. "Turn around, so I can do your back."

"You don't have to, its not necessary."

"I made a promise and I mean to keep it. And it is necessary. I told you, pretty is as pretty does and pretty doesn't have hairy underarms or legs." She handed me the razor and gel. "You can do the rest yourself." "Don't forget to put on my Secret before you get dressed. You know..." she trailed off as she headed downstairs .

When I got out, I felt wonderfully feminine. I wrapped a towel around me and went into the bedroom. The clothes were all laid out on the bed. I put on the camisole and panties, pulled on the tights, stepped into the jumper and adjusted the straps over my shoulder. I did a turn in front of the mirror to check that everything was in place and went downstairs.

Helen was standing at the counter preparing dinner. I wasn't sure what her reaction would be, laugh, cry, scream. To my relief, she smiled. "Turn around." She came over and fussed with the jumper. "No makeup?"

"Too little time."

"There's always time for lipstick." She got a thin gold tube out of her purse. "This is just a tinted gloss. Not too dramatic, just a hint of color. Open." She applied a coating to my lips and then went over it. Put your lips together. Good." She stood back studied me. "Do you like being Grace?"

"I'm transgendered, not schizophrenic. I like being me."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. This is still, you know, it takes some getting used to," she waved her arm towards me, "all of this."

"Apology accepted." I tried to do a curtsey, holding out the sides of my skirt and extending one leg backwards. It got a laugh.

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"The Shirley Temple movies I watched growing up weren't wasted. I can do "Animal Crackers in My Soup."

Helen shook her head and pointed to the table. "Just as well not, dinner's ready." I went to sit down. "Wait." I paused mid squat. "Run your hands under your skirt, so it doesn't bunch up and wrinkle. Like this." I followed her example and sat down.

After dinner Helen suggested that I try on the kilt and sweaters. I kept on the underwear, but changed out of the tights and put on the knee socks. It took me a little time to master the way the waist wrapped and the buckles, but it was worth it. The kilt was short, about two inches above my knees. I went back downstairs and modeled the outfit. "Mommy's little girl looks very pretty," Helen cooed.

"No, please. I like the clothes, but not the fantasy. I know you're trying to make me happy, but Grace is real and talking to me that way makes it seem like I'm pretending.

"I'm confused. You wanted me to dress you like a little girl, but not for me to treat you like one, because you're not one, even though you look like one?"

"I told you that I couldn't go backwards. You thought I could. I tried, but I can't. Now I know for certain. Grace is my future, not my past."

"Then Grace needs to do some serious shopping tomorrow. I'm exhausted. We should go to bed and get a fresh start in the morning." Helen took my hand and we walked up the stairs together. She stopped in front of the master bedroom.

"Good night and thank you," I said to her, as I turned and started down the hall.

"Good night and you're welcome, but where are you going?"

"To my room."

"This is your room."

"You want me to sleep here? In bed? With you?"

"I promise I won't compromise your virtue."

"You're sure?"

"That I won't compromise your virtue? Very."

"You're sure that you want to share your bed with Grace."

I'm sure that I want to share my bed with you."

Chapter 4. Staying Out.

“Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

– Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

Helen was already up. I could hear her in the bathroom and then going downstairs to the kitchen. I got out of bed and took off my nightgown. It still had a faint smell of lilacs from last night's bath, so I took a shower. Helen must have heard the water turn off. "Breakfast is ready," she called up. "Hurry, we still have a lot of shopping to do. I'll be in the study. I have a few calls to make while you eat." Ten minutes later she returned. I was finishing my coffee. "I thought we'd go to Kohls first, return the clothes we bought yesterday and put together a wardrobe. Then we can go to DSW for shoes and to the mall."

"I thought you were against the mall?"

"For clothes, yes, but you need jewelry. You can share mine, but my earrings are for pierced ears. There's a store at the mall that does it."

"You want me to get my ears pierced?"

"Two tiny holes in your ear lobes are the least of the changes you want to make to you body. Besides, if you should change your mind, you can take them out and the holes will close up. A dab of makeup will cover them until the do."

"Okay."

She looked at the clock on the microwave. "We should get going. I made a three o'clock appointment for you at the wig shop."

"A wig too?"

"I promised you the full experience and I am a woman of my word. I can cancel the appointment. Should I?"

"Another test?"

"Another opportunity. So, what's the problem?"

"It's not a problem. Like I told you the other day, I expected you to leave me and tell everyone that it was because I was transgendered."

"You were expecting me to be the harbinger of Grace's arrival?"

"Yes," I admitted meekly.

"I thought you wanted to wear skirts, not hide behind them."

"I'm sorry. The 'Dummies Guide to Being Transgendered' was out of stock at Amazon.

"The best laid plans of mice and men has a new meaning."

"They're open on Sunday?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Yes. I spoke to Doris the owner. I wanted to be sure we weren't wasting our time. She said it was no problem, that she has a number of crossdressers and trans-women as customers. According to her, more than I would expect and some who I would never suspect, who require discretion. That's why on Sunday they're open only by appointment and we have an appointment," she looked at the clock again, "which we are going to miss if we don't leave now. Yes or no?"

"Yes."

This time Helen drove. It was a wonderful day of shopping. We bought two skirts, blouses and sweaters to mix and match, a sweater dress and a dress that she thought I should wear if I went back to work, pantyhose, an assortment of panties and a nightgown. She based her selection of sizes on what we bought yesterday, except we didn't buy a bra. We stopped in front of an Olga display. She took a white one off the rack and held it up. "There's such a variation in women's breast size and shape that it's impossible to find a bra with the right lift, separation, shape and support without trying it on. Except of course, if you don't have breasts, and then it doesn't matter. Do you have a preference in cup size?"

"C"

"If men's suit size and bra size are the same, you're a 38." She picked out three and put them in the cart. I followed her as she picked out five more. "Okay, lets go."

I wasn't sure why I needed eight bras, but it was not a conversation I wanted to have in the middle of the lingerie department. Helen started towards the back of the store. "You're going the wrong way. The checkout area is over there."

She kept walking. "We're not checking out yet." We ended up in the men's department. She went over to a table of jeans and picked out two. She carried them towards the dressing rooms. I had no idea what she was doing, but followed her. She stopped in front of one of the open rooms, looked around, took out the bras and hid them under jeans. "Here, go try these on."

"What? You're kidding. What if there are cameras?"

"There are no cameras in dressing rooms. It's illegal."

"What if someone sees me?"

"In a dressing room with the door closed. Unless Lois Lane is shopping with Superman and he uses his x-ray vision, you're safe. If you don't want to attract attention, then stop making a fuss," she scolded me. It took me a while to try them on. "What's taking you so long? The little hooks attach to the little eyes. You have worn a bra before, haven't you?"

"Helen, please. Stop. I'm uncomfortable."

"With the bras or with me talking to you?"

"Both. Okay, I'm done. Can I come out?

"I thought you agreed to wait until after we saw Dr. Rosen."

"You know what I mean."

"Other than a guy trying on dresses in the next room, you're good."

"Helen!"

"Come out." I cautiously opened the door. Helen was standing next to the cart. I handed her three bras. "You want those?" I nodded. She put them in the cart. "What about the other ones? If you're worried bout appearances, you probably shouldn't leave them in the men's dressing room. I went back and brought them out."

We went to the check out area. I hung back as the cashier rang up the sale. I thought she would be curious about the assortment of clothes in sizes which wouldn't fit Helen. She paid no attention, scanning, folding and bagging. Helen handed her a credit card, she asked if she wanted to open a store credit account and get a 10% discount, Helen said no, the woman swiped the card, I dutifully picked up the bags and we went to the car.

We returned home at dinner time with starter studs in my ears, a beautiful brunette wig with reddish highlights, Doris suggested that a straight style and above the shoulder length were easier for me care for, the one I selected had bangs and was angled, longer in front and shorter in back, two pair of flats, two pair of low heels, a pair of boots and a pair of stilettos, which Helen made me promise not to wear while dressed, wanting to preserve my memory as husband and father, if I broke my neck, the shoes being easily removed before the EMT's arrived. Helen told me to go upstairs and start trying things on, confiscating the heels, to be returned when I was safely on the first floor.

For the next two days, Helen kept her promise. On Tuesday night, as we were getting ready for bed, she asked me, "Was being a woman what you expected?"

"I still am. Our agreement was a postponement, not an alternative. Goodnight Helen. I love you."'

"Goodnight, George. I love you too." She rolled over and we went to sleep.

Wednesday morning, things were back to normal, more or less. Helen had to go out to do the grocery shopping and take some clothes to the cleaners. I told her not to bother with my suits or dress shirts, since they were going to Goodwill. She took them anyway. In deference to our agreement, while she was gone I took out the studs, scrubbed off any trace of makeup and removed the nail polish. We left the house at three fifteen for a four o'clock appointment. I drove. At the medical office building, we checked in with the receptionist and took the elevator to the sixth floor. We followed the corridor and stopped in front of a door with "Roberta Rosen, M.D., Dept. Of Psychiatry. Please knock before entering." We knocked and entered.

Dr. Rosen was seated behind a large glass table which served as her desk. I always wondered whether the transparency was an expression of her professional views or a coincidence. She got up when we came in and walked around to greet us. "Good afternoon, Grace, and this must be Helen? "

"Must I," Helen challenged her.

I gave her a disapproving look, which she ignored.

"I can't imagine anyone else who Grace would bring with her, but no you could be someone else. Are you?" Dr. Rosen replied cordially.

"No," Helen conceded.

"Then welcome. Please come and be seated. She directed us to two upholstered arm chairs next to one another and sat in a third directly opposite us. "I assume you are here because you don't agree with Grace's decision to come out."

"I am here, because I don't agree with you encouraging him to abandon his wife, his children, his work and his life."

"What makes you think I did?"

"Because, if you didn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"I am flattered that you think I have that much influence over my patients. In fact, it is quite the opposite. We always hope for the best, but my work is to prepare them emotionally for the worst. I cannot ethically certify them for SRS, sexual reassignment surgery, or even HRT, hormone replacement therapy, until I am convinced they are ready. If and when they are depends on them, not me."

"Dr. Rosen ... "

"Roberta."

"Dr. Rosen," Helen persisted," you're a woman." I could see a sudden realization that perhaps she was making an unwarranted assumption. "You are, aren't you?"

"Yes, I was born female, if that's your question."

"Aren't they the same thing?"

"No."

"George isn't female or a woman." Helen turned and looked at me, "I'm sorry, but it's the truth," she apologized. "Why would you encourage him to be something he is not?"

"True, Grace can never by female. Our sex is determined by the combination of our chromosomes at the time of conception. But what makes you think she is not a woman?"

"High school biology, first hand experience and the resulting two children."

"Anatomically and biologically you are correct, but psychologically you are wrong. Grace is as much a woman as you or me."

"That's impossible."

"Grace was born female, but nature gave her the wrong genitals. HRT and SRS, can repair that mistake superficially. The rest is up to her."

"But she will never be able to have children. Isn't that what being a woman is all about?"

"Do you think so? Is maternity what define us? What about the women who can't have children, who never marry, who have a hysterectomy or who choose not to have children. Your ovaries and uterus are non-functional at this stage of your life. Are you less of a woman? Is Grace?"

"I don't know," Helen conceded. "This is all so confusing."

"If it's confusing for you, think about Grace. She's spent her whole life, using your words, being someone she's not. Now she has a chance to be herself and the people who are most important in her life, for whom she cares the most, are against it."

"I'm not against it. I'm just not for it."

"Is there a difference?"

"From what George has said, I can't prevent it."

"Dr. Rosen leaned forward. "You want Grace to be happy, don't you?

"Of course, but I don't' want George to make a decision he will regret."

"Why would Grace regret her decision to transition?

"Because George loves us and wouldn't want to hurt us."

"Who is us?"

"Me and our children."

"How would Grace's happiness be harmful to you and your children?"

Helen thought about it for a minute. "I don't know," she conceded.

"I do," offered Dr. Rosen. "You believe that people will think less of you because of Grace. That is the type of guilt by association which bigots perpetuate to repress diversity." She stood up and walked over to Helen. "I have two kinds of transgendered patients. Those who have reached a point in their life where they are ready to transition and those who, for a variety of reasons, cannot. For those men and women who are struggling with conformity, I can provide counseling and prescribe drugs to help with their anxiety and depression. For those like Grace, understanding and acceptance are the best medicines."

We drove home in silence. Helen had let me be Grace temporarily, but I noticed that she had kept the tags from the clothes. I wasn't sure if it was just in case I changed my mind or just in case she didn't, after speaking with Dr. Rosen. Either way, it would be the end of our marriage. I parked the car and we walked into the kitchen. Helen turned to me. Let's go into the living room. She took my hand. I prepared myself for the worst. She let go of my hand, sat down on the couch and patted the cushion next to her.

"I'm the right Alice." Of all of the possible rejections I had gone over in anticipation of this moment, that was not remotely one of them.

"Who is Alice?"

"Alice in Wonderland."

"The Disney fairytale?"

"Actually, it's a fantasy, there are strange characters, but no fairies, but no, not the cartoon, the movie with Johnny Depp and Mia whats-her-name-I-can-never-remember-or-pronounce. That one."

"What does Alice in Wonderland have to do with me?"

"At the beginning of the story, Alice meets Absalom."

"Who?"

"Absalom, the caterpillar. Be patient. He tells her that she is the wrong Alice to fulfill her destiny, predicted in a scroll, to slay the Jabberwocky. Alice's adventures prepare her to become the White Queen's champion. When she is ready to face the monster, Absalom tells her that now she is the right Alice."

"So I'm the monster and you are going to put an end to me?"

"What? No, you're not the monster."

"Then I'm the White Queen who needs Alice's help? I suppose that's appropriate."

"No, not her either."

"The Mad Hatter? You think I'm crazy?"

"Oh, for goodness sake, no. Stop talking and listen. Now, do you remember the end of the movie?"

"I thought you didn't want me to talk?"

"I changed my mind. It's a woman's prerogative."

"I don't remember any of the movie."

"Alice is standing at the front of a ship bound for China. She gave up the opportunity for a safe, comfortable marriage to a boring man to take on the challenges of exploring a new world. That's me. I'm the right Alice to go on a wonderful adventure. And there is a blue butterfly who appears next to her. It's Absalom. That's you. You're a drab caterpillar who turns into the beautiful butterfly that it was always your nature to become."

"I love you."

"I love you too. Go change."

Why is a raven like a writing desk? And what does it have to do with being transgendered?

Both are riddles which have no logical solution.