Most people who know me...and I mean really know me, can't understand how or why I could have given up my life as a boy to become a girl. Of course the reason they don't understand is because they don't know me as well as they think they do. Its hard to tell by looking at me now, but up until last year, I was a regular looking boy who was leading a rather average life. I had friends and played sports. Girls liked me and I liked them. I didn't look, act, or talk like a sissy. As a matter of fact, and I'm ashamed to admit this now, but I was downright hateful towards people like me. Publicly hating them was my way of putting up a front. No one ever suspected a thing. No one that it is, except for my mom. Mothers have a sixth sense when it comes to their children's likes and dislikes.   Mike versus Michelle: Part 1 I'm Not a Sissy! By Sharon Parsons

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Most people who know me...and I mean really know me, can't understand how or why I could have given up my life as a boy to become a girl. Of course the reason they don't understand is because they don't know me as well as they think they do.

Its hard to tell by looking at me now, but up until last year, I was a regular looking boy who was leading a rather average life. I had friends and played sports. Girls liked me and I liked them. I didn't look, act, or talk like a sissy. As a matter of fact, and I'm ashamed to admit this now, but I was downright hateful towards people like me. Publicly hating them was my way of putting up a front. No one ever suspected a thing. No one that it is, except for my mom. Mothers have a sixth sense when it comes to their children's likes and dislikes.

I remember the first time she caught me wearing her clothes. I was 12 years old. To make matters worse, I was holding one of her cigarettes between my fingers- unlit of course!

As embarrassed and humiliated as I was, I had the wits about me to notice that she was neither shocked nor disgusted. None the less, she didn't look pleased either.

She was gone by the time I had put on my clothes and come out. I strongly considered running away, but since I had no money saved up, I elected to have dinner first. It made more sense to run away on a full stomach, if I was going to do it.

It was one of the most awkward dinners of my life but it wouldn't be the last time I felt awkward in front of my family. I didn't say a word to either of my parents or my little brother until halfway through dinner when my mother asked if everything was okay with me. As if she didn't know! She did know, but my father and little brother didn't because she hadn't told them. But she would. Wouldn't she?

From that day on, I lived in fear of the other shoe falling. Sooner or later, my mother would say something to me about what she had seen. But when? And just when I thought the whole incident might be forgotten, she spoke up.

Two weeks had passed since my mother had walked in on me. Summer vacation was right around the corner and I was thinking about swimming, and baseball, and hanging out with my friends. I won't say I had forgot what had happened, but I was trying to.

When I got home from school, I found my mom sitting on the couch in front of the TV, smoking a cigarette. There was a shopping bag from Victoria's Secret by her feet.

The conversation began rather ordinarily with questions about my day, and then it changed abruptly.

"I was thinking we should talk about the other day in my room," said my mother.

My heart skipped a beat and my stomach did flips. She wasn't going to let it go. But why had she waited until now? Why had she let me think it was over when it really wasn't.

She patted the couch and told me take a seat so that we could talk more comfortably. "Its okay," she said. "Your father is working late and Tony is playing across the street."

"Did you tell Dad?" I asked as I sat down next to her.

"No. Not yet. I wanted to talk with you first, you know...woman to woman."

I cringed as she said that, but I was also deeply aroused by the idea of talking to my mother woman to woman, even if she was just kidding. Regardless, I told my mother that I wasn't a woman because I was sure that was what she would want me to say. Beside that, I wasn't one. I was a boy- a male, like my father and brother.

"I know that," she said, "but I also know that wasn't the first time you've dressed up in my clothes." She took a puff from her cigarette and exhaled. "But I didn't know about the cigarettes. Are you smoking now?"

I didn't know what felt worse; the painful lump in my throat or the sickening nausea. I shook my head no, hoping she'd be satisfied with my silent answer.

"I know this is hard for you," said my mother as she leaned forward and put her cigarette out in the ashtray. "Its difficult for me too. I tried my best to pretend it never happened, but I can't do that. And I don't think you can either."

My eyes followed her hands as she removed a cigarette from her pack and lit it.

"Are you staring because this is bothering you or because you want one?" she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders and told her I didn't smoke.

"You were holding a cigarette when I saw you in my room. Wouldn't you have lit it if I hadn't have been there?"

I told her I had just wanted to see what I'd look like. It was the truth, but as soon as I had said it, I wished that I could take it back. That must sound so stupid to her, I thought.

She nodded her head as if she understood. "I used to do the same thing with my mother's cigarettes when I was your age. As a matter of fact, sometimes I'd even wear her clothes when I did it. I guess it made me feel older and more like her."

The excitement in my face must have been obvious as I looked her in the eye for the first time since the conversation began. "You did?" I asked.

She smiled at me and laughed softly. "Yes, I did honey. I suppose that must sound rather silly to you."

"No it doesn't."

"Oh no?"

I shook my head.

"I see," said my mother as she took a long puff from her cigarette and exhaled toward the ceiling. "Is that what you were doing when I walked in on you? Were you pretending to be older? Or were you pretending to be me?"

"Both," I said between heavy breaths.

She smiled knowingly, as if she'd played a winning hand of cards, and then she placed her hand on my knee. "I thought so," she said. "But I was afraid to come out and say it in case I was wrong. I know how hard this must be for you and I didn't want to embarrass you any more than I already had."

It was at that moment that my mother and I bonded in a way that I had only fantasized about. She said she had done the same thing I had done. That meant I had done the same thing she had. When you thought about it like that. It meant that in some kind of cosmic way, I was like my mother and she had just acknowledged it. Perhaps she was right about us having a woman to woman to woman talk. I smiled back at her.

She looked at me as if she were seeing me for the first time. It made me feel nervous and wonderful at the same time. My mother and I had a secret, at least I hoped it was a secret.

"I bought you some things," she said as she lifted the bag from Victoria's Secret and set it on the coffee table. "I left the tags on them in case you want me to take them back, but if you're going to keep doing this, I think it would be best for you to have your own things. You're not that much bigger than me but you have been stretching my panties a bit," she said as she pulled a pair of silky pink panties from the bag. "Aren't they gorgeous?" she asked.

They were gorgeous! But I couldn't say so. To say so would be to admit that I was a little sissy. I had too much going for me to do that. My reputation was at stake. Who knew where this could lead?

Mom laid the panties on my lap and pulled a long cream colored nightgown with pink lace from the bag. "I thought you could lock you door at night when you go to bed. That way...well, you know. Isn't it just darling?"

It was darling. Even if I didn't say so, which I didn't, the gown was beautiful, and I wanted so badly to put it on. I couldn't believe it was really mine! But how could I take it. She'd know the truth about me if I did. But she already knew. She'd known for a long time. I wasn't a boy in my mother's mind any more. I was a girl like her. It excited me as much as hurt me to think my mother knew that I wanted to put on those panties and wear that nightgown.

"I got you a bra too," she said as she pulled out a lacy pink bra that matched the panties. "It's a "C" cup, so I know its a little large, but you can stuff it."

Stuff it? Oh yeah! Sure, I could stuff it. I'd have boobs just like her then! But how could I? How could I trade my dignity for boobs and panties? What would Dad and Tony say if they caught me wearing them? Tony might let it slip to my friends. Or maybe he'd tell on purpose. My life would be over!

"I can't take these Mom. You got to take them back. I don't want them."

Mom turned her head and frowned. I saw the disappointment and confusion on her face as she put the bra back in the bag.

"Do you really want me to take them back," she asked? "Or do you really want them and you're just too embarrassed to say so?"

"I can't wear those Mom. I'm a boy," I whined. "Boys don't wear stuff like that."

"I know they don't. At least most boys don't," she said. "But we're not talking about most boys honey. We're talking about you and I'm not blind. I've seen the way you stare at me while I'm getting dressed and putting on my make-up. I know you like to read my women's magazines when you don't think anyone is looking. It just means you have a feminine side to you. That's all. Its not the end of the world."

She made it sound so normal, but I knew I wasn't. And even though I wasn't a fortune teller, I understood the gravity of the situation at hand. If I said yes to the clothes, I was saying yes to being a sissy. Saying yes would change my life in so many ways that could never be right.

I wanted those clothes with all my heart but I didn't want the other things that came with them. I didn't want my parents or anyone else thinking of me as a sissy. It was supposed to be a secret. My mom wasn't supposed to find out about it but she knew everything. Wasn't that bad enough? Did I need to make it worse by taking the clothes?

I knew with every fiber of my body that I should I say no to the clothes. I knew I'd dress up again, but I'd be more careful. This wasn't something I wanted anyone else to know about, especially my mom.

"I'll tell you what," said my mother. "I won't take them back but that doesn't mean you have to wear them. I'll just put them in your dresser. They'll be safe there and no one else will find them. If you want to wear them you can. And if you don't want to wear them, you won't have to."

"I don't know mom."

"Its okay sweetie. I won't tell your father or Tony. This will be our little secret."

I leaned forward and hugged her before she could hug me.

"Thanks Mom. I love you so much. You don't know how much. I've always loved you."

"I love you too Michelle."

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