I was nervous when I walked into the church that morning. My dress was smart, hat on neat, makeup correct. But it still felt like a dream.   Samantha's Story part 1 By Maid Joy

I was nervous when I walked into the church that morning. My dress was smart, hat on neat, makeup correct. But it still felt like a dream.

Every year for the last 20 I had waited for this day. From my earliest memories I always wanted to be one of those ladies who got to show off on this day of all days. Easter Sunday was for hearing about how Jesus was resurrected and the miracle, but it was also for preening.

Oh, I know that pride is a sin, even more envy, but that didn't seem to matter on this one day. On THIS day you could strut into the Sanctuary in a new dress, a new matching hat, pretty purse and everyone would look at you. Everyone would see how beautiful you were. The only thing that could come even close was a wedding.

I had envied my sisters and mother when they went shopping three weeks before Easter to pick a nice white or yellow dress, spring colors, bright colors. They would spend a day for each of them shopping for just the right outfit. Then came the shoes to match, the new underwear, the tights, the gloves and purses.

This ritual made this day a special day in my mind. Just when the mind and soul should be focused on things not of this Earth, the ritual of shopping made it so that you did nothing but focus on that day.

I remember when I asked my mother where my new dress was. She was frazzled and distracted and took me over to get a new suit. But a new suit on Easter wasn't nearly the same. There are only so many ways you can cut a suit and none of them look nice when you get down to it, not like a pretty dress.

When I asked for a dress, not a suit, she finally focused on me and said "Hon, you are a boy, not a girl. You wear suits and ties, not dresses. Don't be silly now, here's a lovely striped tie to go with that outfit."

I remember how much I wanted to take that tie and use it to make myself a girl.

I can't count the times that I contemplated self mutilation to correct the defect. Apparently some of my troubles got through the careful mask of indifference I had created, because my mother freaked once when I was removing a long hair from around my male parts and told her that it was there. I swear that she thought I was trying to cut things off.

But today, today I was here in the Church. No one knew me. I had never attended here before. I was only in this area because of the college I was attending nearby. But I could be beautiful on this day.

I prayed silently that I wouldn't be spotted and known for a transvestite. I had seen all the stories and all the rumors of what happened to those of us who were different.

And I was different.

Contrary to all the tales available, I had no secret stash of clothes stolen from my mother or my sisters. I didn't know how to walk in high heels. I didn't have makeup practice. This was the first time I had ever really done this.

Oh, I had pulled on a swimsuit sometimes when everyone was gone. I had lingered in the girls department pretending to be bored with the shopping those of the distaff side were doing, but I was really devouring it all. This might be my last chance to learn this stuff.

I watched my sisters. I watched my girlfriends. I had bought some of those kits from the makeup counters for my female friends, but I kept the "instructional video" and played them till they were worn out. But I was always too scared to keep anything in my own room.

At the hair salon, I never went to a barber shop, I would read the fashion magazines while waiting. They might be years out of date, but it was more current than a lot of stuff I knew. So I learned about fashion, how to put outfits together, how to apply the makeup correctly, hair styles and on, but I had no personal knowledge.

A month ago I bought some things to hide in my room off-campus. But I lost my girlfriend over it. She found it in one of her cleaning fits (she was wonderful like that) and confronted me with the panties and bra. She didn't believe me when I told her they were mine. Sometimes I still smelled her perfume.

I took a deep breath. I stepped into the Sanctuary. I walked to the front pew and sat. I sat my purse down next to me and extracted the small Bible out of there so I could follow along with the sermon. I found a hymnal and kept it near me.

I folded my glove covered hands in my lap and tried to keep them from shaking. I could feel my heart going a mile a minute and my breath coming in short gasps as the adrenaline hit my system.

The hardest part was getting the underthings that fit me. I made the measurements a while ago and carefully noted them down. I had called a couple dress makers in town and given them those measurements and told them that I was buying an Easter Dress for my girlfriend and would they be so kind as to tell me what size these measurements would fit? Then I called another to get the shoe size. So on with the hat, and so on with the breast size.

Once that was done, it was time to shop.

The ladies who helped me out were so nice. They wanted the sales, as is understandable. So they showed me the required garments and helped me pick out tones and so on. I was able to ask some questions that I had for years in the back of my head, and I got answers that made sense.

It took some time, but I was able to order the breast forms online. I had all the other things already, my dress, my beautiful dress.

When I was in the Salvation Army store I knew that this was the dress for my debut. Emerald green, velvet and cut in such a way that it started off lighter green up top and darkened as it went down. Sheath-cut with a kick-pleat in the back, it was as prim as a dress for a librarian would be. Short sleeved, cut in a sweetheart neckline exposing my neck for all to see. A black choker completed the look. Black gloves coming to mid forearm made it look sophisticated without being slutty. Black two inch heels snugged on my feet and made walking a new dream. Black hose rounded it out. Anklet, bracelet, woman's watch, ring on my right hand. Clip on earrings that fell to my shoulders.

I had spent some time last night doing all the things I wanted to do but never did. I shaved everything, twice. I didn't want any hair to be showing. I even waxed my face, just to get all that annoying peach fuzz off. The more I worked, the more feminine I looked and felt. Arched eyebrows, thick lashes accented with just enough eyeliner to give me a smoky eye instead of a bruised one.

My hat. That took some doing. I must have shopped every hat store in the nearest three counties. I finally had to commission one from a nice lady who wanted to see my girlfriend's dress to make a hat to match. The jade green cartwheel hat she made could have been in Ascot on "My Fair Lady". It was the perfect accent.

I had managed to take a look around at the other peahens in the church. Some of those hats were absolute terrors, and it seemed that "taste" wasn't anything they were familiar with.

I tried really hard to ignore everyone and pay attention to the sermon.

"'For God so loved the world, as to give his only begotten Son; that whosoever believeth in him, may not perish, but may have life everlasting.' So states John 3:16 and it is the best news we humans have ever had." The preacher had a good speaking voice.

I took the flier that was given to me as I came in and used it to fan myself. Five hundred bodies in a room certainly makes it warm. I felt my hair being moved by the slight breeze.

I stood to sing, I sat to listen. I knelt to pray. I could feel eyes boring into my head.

Once the service was over I didn't know if I should bolt back to my car and run, or sit still and do nothing, or just try to melt. My inaction made my mind up for me and I sat there as the Sanctuary emptied to do the socializing in the foyer. I knew that there were several people who would want me to join them, so they could preen at me or so they could dis me to my face. And if they found out....

"Honey, are you okay?" The voice came from the other side of the choir area. I looked up and saw the Choir director looking at me. I nodded and tried to let the encounter go at that.

She came down from where she was putting up music stands. "If you don't mind me saying, you probably should go. Everyone else is gone and it might look odd if you stay here overnight. People will think that you are after my husband." She sat down. She held out her hand. "I'm Millie Porter, the Preacher's wife," she said. There was a playful spark in her eyes waiting for me to say something. So I obliged her.

"Funny, you don't look much like Whitney Houston." I shook her hand as I had seen my sisters do over and over.

That was apparently the right thing to say because her face broke into a smile that lit the room. "I guess that's better than Loretta Young, although it does date you." Her head turned sideways somewhat. "I'd guess 22, probably a student at the college. Not a cheerleader, but a kind girl. No boyfriend." She stated the last like a Physical Law.

I smiled at her accuracy. "Right on all counts. But how did you know that I wasn't a cheerleader?"

Now it was her turn to smile even more. "There's a game today and the cheerleaders are off yelling in support of the team. No Church for them. No boyfriend because you would be here with him to keep the dogs off you." She stopped for a bit. "I must say, you are brave."

I started getting very uncomfortable. "No more than anyone else I guess."

"No, I mean it. Someone as pretty as you here alone. Well...." She smiled again. "I have to go finish up. Nice to meet you." She stood somewhat abruptly and went off to finish her chore.

I stood and followed her to help. She looked a bit nervous and smiled at me again. "Honey, you don't have to do that. I can get it. If you want to go show off, I won't be offended."

My lips compressed. "No, I'm not quite ready to face that."

She nodded. "I'm going to be unbearably rude here, but do you attend school as a girl or a boy?"