The story of Mike versus Michelle picks up and ends three years after Michelle's SRS. Mike versus Michelle: Epilogue By Sharon Parsons

My name is Michelle Holsteader. I'm 23 years old. I'm married with two stepsons. Cam, my oldest is 23, the same age as me. Gary is 15 and Dave, my husband, is 47. Dave and I have been married for 6 years.

The most unusual thing about me is that I'm a woman. Most people would read the first paragraph and just assume that I'm female. I am of course, but it wasn't always that way.

My name used to be Mike and I used to be a boy. My mother bought me my first dress when I was 12 years old and my life has never been the same since. I wrote about the experience and you can look it up if you want to. Its called "Mike versus Michelle". It tells how I went from dressing up in my mother's clothes to getting a full sex change operation.

I'm not the first woman who began her life as a boy and I won't be the last. The interesting thing about my situation is that it wasn't actually necessary for me to get a full blown sex change. I never felt like I was born into the wrong body and I wasn't exactly homosexual either. Of course as a general rule, sexuality doesn't play a huge role in whether someone is a man or a woman. Its just a lot more traditional and conventional when men fall in love with women and vice versa.

I did what I did because it was thrilling and exciting. You see, ever since I was a little boy, I got a rise out of pretending to be like my mother. I wanted to dress like her and act like her and smoke like her. Being like her was a sexually charged fantasy for me. I never expected or wanted it to be real. But one thing led to another and opportunities began to present themselves. I took them all one by one. Each thing I did made me more and more like my mother. I began taking female hormones and started smoking when I was 14. I got breast implants when I was 15. I got married when I was 17. And I got SRS when I was 19. My husband and I had traditional penis/vagina intercourse for the first time when I was 20.

I made a lot of questionable decisions along the way and have regretted all of them at one time or another. Some have faded with time while others are still with me. I'm often asked if I would change anything I've done if I had it to do over again.

I'm not the smartest person in the world. I didn't go to college but I know a lot about life. I know that everything we do today will affect who we will become tomorrow. And everything we did yesterday made us into who we are today. With that in mind, its hard to pick and choose from the things I've done and question whether or not I should have done them.

I'm convinced that I wouldn't be the woman I am today if I had done anything differently. I don't subscribe to the theory that all things happen for a reason, but I do believe we're as happy as we make up our minds to be.

I wish this and I wish that but in the end I've learned to live with the final result, even though I know nothing is ever final until death. And even then, finality is debatable. I guess what I'm trying to say is; I'm happy with my life. There are times when I wonder what my life would have been like if my mom had never caught me wearing her clothes. But when I'm done wondering, I get down on my knees and thank God that she did catch me.

There was a time in my life when I wished I'd never been born. It lasted for almost a year and coincided with my SRS. The source of my pain and anguish was both mental and physical. The loss of my testicles reduced the amount of endorphins produced by my pituitary gland. That had a domino affect on my serotonin levels. Basically speaking, I was depressed and unable to have orgasms. The surgery left me steeped in remorse.

So what happened to change things? The short answer is that I grew up.

Up until I had SRS, my life as a woman had been a sham. I had been role playing and enjoying it very much. I played the part of wife and mother the way I'd seen my mother do it. The thing is, my mother wasn't playing a role. She was and is the real thing.

I appreciate everything Dr. Martha did for me, and I don't want to de-emphasise her contributions to my welfare. But my mother was the person who helped me make the most out of the situation I had created.

I turned on her a couple of times after the surgery and for that I'm very sorry. As I said earlier, I was emotionally dead and remorseful. It was easier to blame her for the way I felt than it was to blame myself. After all, if it hadn't been for her, if I hadn't loved her as much as I did, I never would have tried on her clothes in the first place. And as long as I'm casting out the blame, I probably never would have started smoking if I hadn't idolized her the way I did. And I certainly wouldn't have become sexually involved with a grown man.

I spent the first five or six months after my SRS blaming her and being angry with her. She could have turned her back on me. After all, I wasn't her responsibility. I was married and on my own. But instead of turning her back on me, she befriended me.

My mom has this irritating habit of bringing up the past. She'd say things like, do you remember when...or do you remember that. Of course I remembered! I wasn't soft in the head. Most of the time I'd lose my patience with her, but one time I didn't.

We were having lunch at her house when she brought out the photo album from mine and Dave's wedding.

"Do you remember when the photographer took this?" she asked as she pointed at a page in the album.

It was a picture of Dave lighting my cigarette for me while my mother was standing in the background.

I shook my head and looked away. "That's the tackiest wedding picture I've ever seen in my life. I should have killed that photographer when he took it. Why did you buy it anyway?"

"You used to love this picture," said my mom. "It was your favorite."

"That was when I was young and stupid," I said angrily as I pulled a Winston from my leather cigarette case and fired it up. "I wish I had listened to you when you told me not to smoke."

"We all make mistakes," said my mother as she gingerly removed a long white Virginia Slim cigarette from her case and held it delicately between two fingers while lighting it. "But if its any consolation, you look very pretty when you smoke."

"Thanks, I guess. So do you think I made a mistake?"

Mom smiled softly. "About the smoking or about getting the surgery?"

"The surgery. I know the smoking was a mistake."

Mom maintained eye contact while taking a pull from her cigarette. She followed her inhale with an exhale and then leaned forward to trim her ash. "You didn't make a mistake sweetheart. I honestly believe with all my heart that being a woman is the best thing for you."

It wasn't her answer that surprised me. It was the way in which she said it. She made it sound more like a fact than an opinion.

"Really?"

Mom nodded yes. "Absolutely. From the day you were born, I thought you were too pretty to be a boy."

"But that doesn't mean I should have been a girl."

"I wasn't finished," said my mother. "I know you better than you think I do. As a matter of fact, I think I know you better than you know your self. Trust me honey. You did the right thing. I know this is probably going to hurt your feelings to hear it, but you didn't have what it takes to be a real man. Believe me, a woman knows these kinds of things."

Mom paused to take a puff from her cigarette and then she continued. "I never came right out and said it, but I was thrilled when I found out you were dressing up in my clothes and that you wanted to be like me. In my heart of hearts, I knew that becoming a woman would be your ticket to having a happy and meaningful life."

I sat there shocked and speechless. My mother had dropped a bomb that had obliterated any sense of male ego that the surgery might have missed. She was sitting there telling me that my life would have been worthless as a man. She said I didn't have what it takes to be a real man.

"I know this is hard for you to hear. And I love you so much that it kills me to have to hurt you. I wish you could have figured this out for your self, and I thought you did. That's why I thought you had the surgery."

"You don't think I had what it takes to be a man?"

"No honey," said my mother as laid a hand on my shoulder. "Not a real man like your father or Dave. But I always knew you had what it takes to be a real woman."

"Like you," I asked?

Mom nodded. "Is that so bad? I thought you wanted to be like me."

"I did," I said as I stubbed out the remainder of my Winston in the ashtray and reached for my mother's cigarette case. "Do you mind?"

"Of course not honey."

"Thanks," I said as I removed a long white cigarette from her pack of Virginia Slims and placed it between my lips. After lighting it, I held it between my fingers and admired the red lipstick stains on the white filter. "You're right. I did want to be like you. I thought it would be so fun and glamorous."

"You know," I said as I rolled the cigarette between my fingers and manipulated my fingers into a feminine position, "I used to dream about moments like this when I was a little kid."

"About getting dressed up and smoking with me," asked Mom?

I nodded my head and took a puff from the Virginia Slim.

"I did the same thing with my mother."

"I know. You told me."

"You don't have to pretend any more," said my mother. "And you don't have to feel bad about it either. As a matter of fact, you can even enjoy it if you want, and I hope you do."

I lifted the feminine cigarette to my lips and took the time to experience the difference between my mother's Virginia Slims and the Winstons I had been smoking. "I like these," I said. "I like them a lot."

Mom grinned knowingly. "Then you should start smoking them again. There's nothing wrong with smoking like a woman when you really are a woman," she said.

For the first time since the surgery, I felt at peace with myself. It was as if my mother had brokered a truce among all the emotions that were taking up space in my head.

"This is really nice," I said. "Being here with you like this."

"I know. I'm enjoying it too," she said as she lit another Virginia Slim for herself. "Do you have time for another cup of coffee. I can make another pot."

******

I think that if I were to lay my life out on a timeline, that day with my mother would be the first day of my life as Michelle. Everything that came before that point in my life was important and played a vital role in the person I would become. But it was on that day with my mother that I accepted myself for who I am and for who I've always wanted to be. I discovered that getting what you always wanted can indeed be a wonderful thing.

The first thing I did upon leaving my mother's house was to drive to a convenience store and buy a carton of Virginia Slims.

A young man, who looked to be about Cam's age, jumped up from his chair when I came in the store. He was a nice looking boy and he looked very familiar to me. I placed his face as soon as he asked if he could help me. It was Frank Rodriguez, my former best friend. By the way he was looking me up and down, I could tell he hadn't recognized me.

Unlike Cam, Frank hadn't done well in school. There was no college for him. I looked over at where he'd been sitting and saw a Super Man comic book and a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. Frank must have taken up smoking. I thought it was strange because he didn't seem the type.

I asked Frank to get me a carton of Virginia Slims.

"Soft pack or purse pack," he asked?

"Purse pack."

"Menthol or regular?"

"Regular, please...the full flavor kind."

"Yes Ma'am," he said as he took a knee and pulled a carton from the lower shelf. "I smoke the regular kind too. Menthol is kind of gross. Don't you think?"

"You smoke Virginia Slims?"

Frank blushed as he laid the carton on the counter. "No ma'am. I meant regular as in the flavor. I smoke Marlboros," he said as he pointed at his pack.

I shook my head and bit my lip. "That's a shame. You look to young to be smoking."

"I'm 21," he said nervously.

"That's still too young to smoke. My son is the same age and I'd have a fit if he ever started," I said as I removed my debit card from my purse. "But of course he's smarter than that. He goes to the University of Connecticut."

"Yes Ma'am," he said as he rang up my purchase.

I asked him if his mother knew he was smoking as I entered my pin number into the key pad.

By the way he hesitated, I knew he was lying as he said she did.

"That's funny, because I think I know your mother. Her name is Denise, isn't it?"

Frank's eyes grew big and his jaw dropped. He pleaded for me not to tell her.

"You still live at home. Don't you?" I asked as I picked up the carton of Virginia Slims.

"Yes Ma'am."

I shook my head and bit my lip. "Your mother always said you were a good for nothing loser. And I think I'm beginning to see what she means. Have a nice day little man."

He said nothing as I turned and walked out of the store. When I was sure he couldn't see me, I broke into a big smile. I still remembered his phone number from back when we were kids. I promised myself I'd call his mom when I got home. Such a loser, I thought as I pulled out of the parking lot and drove home.

****

I remember holding my head up high as I let myself into the house. I can even remember the sound of my heels as they clicked against the hardwood floor as I walked into the kitchen to start dinner.

Gary was still at school, Dave was still at work, and Cam was away at college. I was alone in the house with myself, but for the first time since the surgery, I didn't feel lonely.

The conversation with my mother had thawed my heart and opened my mind. But I was also raw from her blistering evaluation of my prior manhood. I could look at it two ways. I could feel humiliated or I could feel like I traded the booby prized for the grand prize and the grand prize had boobies.

I touched my breasts and smiled at my pun. Mom was right. Most of the decisions I had made were right. I was justified in doing what I had done. There was no reason to feel bad about it. But there were plenty of reasons to rejoice!

I lit a cigarette and thought about Dave. There was no doubt in my mind that he found me attractive. But the attraction had always been a one way street, and if it did go two ways, my lane had always been narrow.

I closed my eyes and recalled an image of his naked body. His body wasn't unattractive as far as middle aged men were concerned, not that I'd ever seen any other older man naked. He had a bit of paunch and the hairs on his chest and scrotum were turning gray. But it was his penis that had always concerned me.

Before my surgery we both had penises. But his was the bigger and more important of the two. His was valid and mine was more like an afterthought. I'd never discussed it with him but I had talked about it with Dr. Martha.

Dr. Martha said my male ego was in competition with Dave's. She said I was jealous of his penis because of the way he used it on me. Sex had always been about Dave's penis rather than mine. He was the sticker and I was the stuck.

I didn't want to feel that way any more. I wanted to surrender and submit. He is the man and I am the woman, I thought. He has the penis and I have the vagina, and together we are one.

I felt as if the weight of the world had been removed from my shoulders. My identity was no longer an issue because I knew exactly who and what I was. I was a woman and I was normal.

Normal?

Yes! Absolutely! I was normal in every way. I wasn't perfect and I still had my flaws, but so does everyone. Its the flaws and imperfections that make us charming.

****

Two years have passed since I had my epiphany. My life as a woman has been nothing short of spectacular- at least in my mind.

As a family we've hit a few road blocks along the way, but we've always managed to get around them.

Dave lost his job but he found a new one. It pays a little bit less but he's home more, so I like that.

Cam graduated from college and landed a great job making almost as much money as Dave. My only problem with him is his personal life. He's fallen head over heels in love with an older woman named Peggy. I don't know what he sees in her, but Dave and I do our best to keep our lips shut tight. Dave says that if we ignore the problem, it might go away by it self.

Last but not least is Gary. He's a good boy and he never gets in trouble but he seems bothered. Dave and I have both tried to talk with him but he insists there's nothing wrong and everything is fine. I hope that's the case, but if its not, I hope he trusts Dave and I enough to let us help him.

The End