Halloween

Who is underneath?

 

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf on Monday, September 28, 2009 - 9:16 pm, this retro classic was pulled out of the closet, and re-presented for our newer readers. ~Sephrena
 
Author's Notes: This is a compilation of a chapter story that I submitted last year. I would like to thank Angela Rasch for her help in editing. She was remarkable and I never would have finished it without her help. ~ Lisa.
 

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Halloween - Chapter 1
October 31, 1970
 
 
“So what are you boys going to be for Halloween this year?” Mother asked looking directly at me while I was eating breakfast with my brothers.

“Are you asking Steven and Billy or are you asking me, Mom?” I replied.

“I am asking everyone but I have an idea for a costume for you. Steve, have you decided on a costume?”

“I can’t stand costumes, Mom. I’m throwing on my football shirt and helmet and going out with my friends after school.” Steven grudgingly responded.

“And you, Billy? Are you going out again as a bum? You know that’s not really creative. Smudging your face with charcoal is not really getting into the spirit of Halloween,” Mother asked.

“Mom, I’m with Steve. I hate costumes and rubbing charcoal on my face is all I want to do.”

As Mother turned her eyes toward me, I realized exactly where this conversation was going. I was 11 years old and every Halloween that I could remember my mother had asked me if I wanted to get dressed as a girl for my costume. My mother was a beautiful woman and she had always wanted a daughter to share her love of femininity with but unfortunately she had been blessed with three wonderful boys.

I never understood why she always targeted me but up until now I had always turned her down. As she smiled at me, I began to think about how I would answer today. I really wanted to say yes but I was afraid; afraid of what my brothers would think, afraid of what my friends would say, afraid of what my mother would think. But then again she always seemed to want to put me in a dress for Halloween.

Puberty was a few years off so I still knew very little about the differences between boys and girls. I always felt very comfortable with girls and ever since I could remember I had wished and prayed that I would magically turn into one over night. I remember receiving my First Communion three years ago and following a pretty young girl up the aisle of our Church and dreaming about wearing the white dress that she had on and having my hair styled with curls and small flowers like she had. I never really understood why I had these feelings and thoughts but I did. And I felt wonderful when I dreamed like that.

On the other hand I had two rough and tumble brothers so I could never really act on my dreams. They would beat me up if I would act girly telling me that I was embarrassing them in front of their friends. My older brother, Steven, even called me a ‘fag’ and forced me to quit the church choir because he felt I was embarrassing him. But as my mother looked at me, I knew that I didn’t have too many more chances where she would offer to dress me as a girl for Halloween.

“What about you, John? Do you have a costume this year?”

“No, Mom,” I replied, “I don’t think I am going to go out this year. I think I am getting too old to trick or treat.”

“11 years old is not too old for Halloween, silly! If you haven’t picked out a costume I could always dress you up as a girl. I’ve offered to do it for you and your brothers before but you have always turned me down. Would you like to give it a try this year? I promise it would be fun?”

“Mommmm, I don’t know,” I replied, “It would be so embarrassing.”

“Do it,” Steven laughed, “It will get her to stop asking us. You will look so stupid that she’ll never try again.”

“Steve is right, John” Billy injected, “If you do it then she will never ask us again.”

“Why don’t you do it, Billy?” I replied, “You’re a year younger than me and you’d make a better girl.”

“I already told mom that I have plans with my friends and you said you have no plans at all.”

“So what do you say, John,” Mom said, “I promise that no one will laugh. You’ll be surprised at how good you will look.”

“Ok, Mom,” I smiled, “but I’m only doing it so that you’ll quit bugging all of us.”

“I’m so excited!” Mom cried, “John, you have always had the prettiest eyes and, despite what your brothers said, you are going to make a beautiful girl. Let’s get started as soon as you get home from school.”
 
 
Halloween — Chapter 2
October 24, 1976
 
 
As soon as I came in the door, I heard my Mom calling from the kitchen.

“John, honey, is that you?”

“Yes, Mom,” I yelled, “I’m going up to my room to do my homework.”

“John, can you come hear for a second, I need to talk to you.”

I immediately knew that my packages must have arrived. As I walked down the hallway into the kitchen I realized that I should have told my Mom about my purchases. I guess I knew that I’d eventually have to tell her but I just never got around to talking to her.

“John, you received a few packages in the mail today. Do you want to tell me about them?”

“There just for Halloween, Mom,” I replied, “I just wanted to get a few things for my costume for Janet’s Halloween party next week.”

“Well, it looks like I’m not going to get to help you from the looks of those packages. You have one from Strawbridge & Clothier; one from Wigs International; and one from some foam company. What is your costume this year if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was hoping that I would get a chance to talk to you before they arrived,” I whispered, “but, you were always too busy. And I still want you to help me because I want to dress as a girl again.”

“Oh, I’m so glad!,” she replied, “I’ve had so much fun these past few Halloweens and I was worried that you wouldn’t want me to help you anymore. But if that’s the case then what have you ordered?”

“Well, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but I bought a skirt and a blouse, a wig and some foam to make some padding.”

“What do you mean about taking it the wrong way?” my mother replied.

“Well, I was worried that you would think that I was weird for buying my own girl’s clothes.”

“I don’t think it’s weird that you are buying clothes for a Halloween costume. They will probably fit better than mine now that you are 17 years old. The clothes are just for Halloween, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are just for Halloween!. And don’t take this the wrong way,” I laughed, “but I wanted to wear something that was more age appropriate. I sort of felt silly wearing your clothes; not that you don’t have a wonderful wardrobe of stylish clothes.”

“Oh, my God!” mother laughed, “I never even thought that my clothes wouldn’t be perfect for you. I thought I was pretty stylish.”

“You are, Mom. But you are stylish for a 42 year old woman. I am 17 years old and I want to look younger. And by the way, I ordered another wig that I also think is a better style for someone my age.”

“I’d love to see what you ordered,” Mom replied, “but do you want to go up to your room in case your brothers come in?”

“Definitely,” I smiled, “Can you grab one of the packages?”

Five minutes later we were upstairs in my room with the door locked and I was opening up the packages. I opened up the wig package first I slowly pulled out a long layered auburn wig with a shaggy front. After shaking it out I turned to my mother and said, “I think this style is closer to what you see on girls my age. What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful and I love the ash highlights. Why don’t you show me the skirt and blouse?”

Opening the package from Strawbridge & Clothier, I pulled out a flowery peasant skirt that fell to about mid-calf and a cotton blouse with puffed sleeves and wide tie at the back. They were just what I wanted; exactly the type of clothes that the girls in my classes were wearing.

“What do you think, Mom? I think they’re perfect.”

“They’re beautiful and I know the perfect shoes you can wear with them. You didn’t buy your own shoes, did you?”

“No, I was hoping that I could borrow a pair of shoes as well as some stockings and lingerie,” I replied sheepishly.

“That’s no problem, honey. You’ve been borrowing my things every Halloween for the past 6 years. But what’s with the other package; the foam?”

“Well, that’s a little more difficult to explain.”

“What can be more difficult? Here we are looking at your new wig, skirt and blouse. I can’t imagine a bigger surprise.”

“Well, Mom,” I sighed, “The foam is to make me look more realistic. In the past I may have worn your bra but we just stuffed it with stocks. It looked pretty comical. I’d like my chest to look more realistic; like I have breasts. And the blouse is fairly sheer so whatever bra I wear will be visible and I want to appear natural. Also, with my skinny hips I will look silly in the skirt unless I can add some padding to my hips. The foam can be cut to make more natural breasts and padding for my hips.”

“You’ve certainly given this a lot of thought,” Mom replied, “But there’s something your not telling me, isn’t there? You couldn’t have come up with all of this on your own. How did you learn about all of this?”

“Well, that is the real part that I meant was difficult to explain,” I began. “A few months ago, I was downtown in Philly with Michael and David and I saw a few girls going into a bar. I could tell they were really guys but they really looked great, like real girls. To make a long story short, I went into the bar and spoke with them and they told me about ordering clothes from catalogs and getting padding to look more realistic.”

“Did Michael and David go in with you?”

“Definitely not, Mom,” I whispered. “I don’t want them to know that it was my idea to dress up as a girl for Halloween. I’ve told them that you really wanted me to and that I only really do it to please you. I went in a few weeks later when I was able to go downtown by myself.”

“Well, we really need to talk about this. You are way too young to be going into bars in downtown Philadelphia. What kind of a bar was it? Was it a gay bar?”

“I think it was a gay bar but the girls told me that it was the only bar that girls like them could go and relax. It’s called the “Velvet Underground” and it’s on 13th street at Arch.”

“Honey, I don’t want you going to that bar again without me. If you want to learn anything else from those girls then I am going to insist that I go with you. It seems they helped you with Halloween this year but I can’t think of any other reason for you to go there. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“Yes, Mom,” I sighed. “I don’t have any reason to go back there again.”

“And you understand that if there is a reason to go,” Mom replied, “that you will bring me with you. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mom,” I responded without looking at her, “but there won’t be a reason to go there again. Ever! It was just for this Halloween.”
 
 
Halloween — Chapter 3
Saturday October 31, 1976
 
 
I can’t believe what time it is. I had wanted to get up at nine but my clock told me it was a little before noon. I still had things I needed to do before getting ready for the party; and I had just wasted over two hours.

I quickly jumped out of bed, rushed into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and took care of my morning needs. As quickly as I moved I still took the time to sit to pee, something I had been doing for years. All the boys I knew always stood when they had to relieve themselves. My mother and brothers were always arguing about who left the seat down, but it always seemed natural for me to sit.

After pulling on a t-shirt and my school khakis, I headed downstairs to grab a little cereal before going out to finish my shopping. “Good morning, Mom. You look beautiful as usual.”

“Well, aren’t you chipper this morning? It must be all the sleep you got.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to sleep in. I have a few chores that I want to do before we get ready.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you already had everything that you needed.”

“I’m a little bit embarrassed to tell you this,” I began sheepishly, “but I want to go to the drug store and get some Nair, because I was hoping to get rid of the hair on my legs for the party. I was also hoping to get a pair of clip-on earrings that matched my outfit.”

“I have a better idea,” Mom said with a sly grin. “How would you like to get your ears pierced?”

“That’s crazy. Everybody will be able to tell. What would Steven and Billy say? They would beat me up, if they saw me with my ears pierced.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Mom argued. “I wouldn’t let them. I’ll make sure they know it was my idea for the party. Lots of boys have pierced ears now; and you could just let them close up if you didn’t love them. They heal and close, if you don’t continue to wear earrings, Honey.”

“I still don’t know.” I sighed, but I was warming to her suggestion. “Where would we get them done?”

“There is a little store in the mall that’s pretty private.” Mom smiled. “We could go there after picking up your Nair at the drug store. Come on, Honey, you’ll look great with pierced ears and real earrings.”

“Ok, but you will have to take care of my brothers because I don’t want them picking on me.”
 

 
“I love these gold posts, Honey,” Mother commented while looking at the display of earrings.

“They’re pretty plain, Mom,” I replied. “I was hoping to wear a more dangly pair.”

“You’ll need to wear gold posts for at least three weeks without removing them. Maybe you can switch to another pair for this evening, and then switch back to the posts after the party. It’ll hurt a little when we do it, though. Why don’t you pick out a pair for the party while I go and talk to the store manager?”
 

 
Mom pointed at the clock on our kitchen wall. “Honey, it’s already three. Why don’t you run upstairs and start getting ready for the party? Steven and Billy won’t be back until later this evening.”

“I guess I do need a little time to Nair my legs.” I smiled. “Before I go I just want to let you know how much I love you and how grateful I am for your help.”

“I know you love me, Honey. I’m just happy you let me have a little fun every Halloween.”

“You need some fun in your life.” I took a moment to look her over. “Why haven’t you ever dated again?”

Moving her hand quickly to brush a tear, Mom returned my appraising looked and smiled, “You’re so sensitive. Neither of your brothers would ever think about asking me about dating. I guess the real answer is I haven’t really ever gotten over your father. It’s only been about five years; and I still love him and miss him every day. You boys keep me busy enough; and I’m happy just taking care of all of you.”

“You’re the best mother in the world, but I really think that Dad would want you to be happy. If that means dating and finding someone to share your life, then I’m sure that he’d want you to do that. No one will ever replace Dad, but I’m sure that there are men out there who could make you happy.”

Mom plucked a tissue to wipe her eyes, “Thank you for your advice. You’re so sweet and sensitive. I’m so touched that you want me to be happy, but unless you get upstairs and take care of those legs I won’t have enough time to do your make-up.”
 

 
“I thought that you might get carried away with the Nair.” Mom coughed while she looked at me sternly.

I sat in the chair by my desk while applying moisturizing lotion over my entire body, and hadn’t heard her enter. I suspected she was kidding, but couldn’t begin to explain why I had used the Nair on my arms, chest, and legs, before shaving under my arms. “Sorry, Mom, but it actually feels great now that I’ve applied this moisturizer.”

“I’m only kidding. Now you see some of the pleasures we women enjoy every day. No one will even notice your missing hair unless you tell them. Now, Honey, can you tell me what that thing is that you are wearing over your thingy?”
“Oh my, God,” I squealed while I jumped to cover myself. “I forgot my. . . . I shouldn’t be sitting here in front of you with nothing. . . .”

“Don’t worry, dear.” She laughed while I fumbled with my towel. “Let me show you how we girls cover ourselves. Instead of tying it around your waste you wrap it around your chest just below your armpits. See, it covers everything beautifully. Now tell me what that thing is, because it appears to be the smallest bikini I have ever seen.”

“It’s called a gaff,” I whispered shyly. “Connie from the ‘Velvet Underground’ gave it to me when she heard that I was going to be dressing up for Halloween. She also gave me this waist cincher to help give me a smaller waist and a little beard cover to use before you help me with my make-up.”

“You and this -- Connie -- seem to have become fast friends. Is there anything else you haven’t told me about?”

“Mom, I’ve told you everything except that she asked me to stop at the ‘Velvet Underground’ after the party tonight. Since I told you I wouldn’t go without you I have no intention of going later tonight. She was just trying to be helpful.”

“I think she’s been more than 'helpful'.” Mom knitted her eyebrows. “Let me take a look at your waist cincher. You’ll probably need my help to tighten it. Why don’t you stand and lift your arms while I wrap this around you? This is actually going to be a wonderful lesson for you. You’re really going to learn what we women go through to look good for men.”

“Don’t tighten it too much,” I complained. “I don’t want to pass out from lack of oxygen.”

“You’ll get used to it,” she laughed. “It loosens up over time. Now, grab that beard cover and let’s go into my room so we can use my makeup mirror. You hardly need beard cover on your face, but we’ll give it a try.”

An hour later I sat at my mother’s makeup table wearing a bra and high-waisted panties comfortably filled with foam, which gave me the exact curves I desired. In addition, I wore a garter belt with stockings.
Mom studied me, and then said, “There we go, Honey, I think we’re finished.”

“You’ve really outdone yourself.” I peered in the mirror and nearly teared-up. “I love what you done with my eyes. The mascara really adds length and volume to my lashes; and I love the shades you blended together for my eyes.”

“No crying, Honey. Not after all the work we’ve done with your face.”

“But, I can’t believe how beautiful you've made me look.”

“Well, wait until you see yourself when we get your clothes and wig on. If you don’t mind, I think these are the shoes you should wear. They’re really stylish, even for you young girls, and they only have a small heel, so they won’t be too difficult to get used to.”

Mom said quietly watching me stumble in her shoes. “I can’t believe how good you look.”

And, I can’t believe how hard it is to walk. “Mom, how do girls manage to look so confident in shoes with high heels? I can hardly move in these?”

“It just takes practice.” Mom laughed. “High heels are sexy and make your legs look great. Women have been wearing them for about five hundred years. It’s another lesson you’ll learn about what women go through to attract men. Posture is also important when you’re walking in heels; you want to stand tall with your chest out. Nothing works better for catching a man’s eye than walking into a party with high heels and a low-cut blouse. Try walking with narrower steps like you are walking on a straight line. You’ll want to stand tall; and you will find that it is easier to do if you sway your hips as you walk. Just keep practicing; it gets easier.”

“Look at me, Mom. I’m beautiful.” I had finally gotten a look at myself in her full-length mirror. I had imagined I would look good, but not great.

“You certainly are, Honey.” Mom laughed. “I can’t believe how much you look like I did at your age -- although that wig looks better than my hair ever did. Let’s find a handbag you can use that isn’t too fuddy-duddy for a young girl like you.”

“Can I use this Coach shoulder bag? The color definitely works with my outfit. I promise I’ll keep it with me all night, because I know it’s your favorite.”

“Sure, dear. Now -- let’s think about what you should carry in your bag. You definitely need your lipstick and powder to touch up your makeup. You could also use some tissues -- just in case.”

“Should I bring the perfume you sprayed on me?”

“No, Honey, I think that should do for the evening. Do you like it?”

I nodded. “What is it?”

“It’s Chanel #5 Eau de Toilette which is slightly less concentrated than actual perfume. Why don’t you grab your shoulder bag and your car keys? We’ll go downstairs and take a few pictures.”
 
 
Halloween — Chapter 4
 
 
Walking from my car to Janet’s front door I was filled with conflicting emotions. I truly felt wonderful. I had borrowed my mother’s three-quarter sleeve Burberry swing coat and I felt perfectly natural walking and holding my handbag over my right shoulder while swinging my left arm. The silver bracelets and ring that decorated my left hand and wrist glinted in sharp contrast to my red nails that my mother had manicured to perfection. When I looked at myself in the mirror before leaving my home I felt like I was really seeing myself for the first time. Finally my six foot tall, rail-thin body looks elegant, rather than pathetically frail.

On the other hand I realized that I couldn’t appear too natural in this new role, unless I was willing to accept dire consequences. No one except my best friends, Michael and David, knew that my mother had helped and encouraged me to dress as a girl every Halloween. I wasn’t really that popular at school, so the last thing I needed was one more reason for people to pick on me. I need people to believe I’m doing this for a joke and not because I like dressing as a girl.

Why do I look forward so much to Halloween? Why do I like looking and acting like a girl? Am I really gay? I’m seventeen-years old and I’ve never really had a girlfriend. I like girls, but I really just want to be friends with them. I’m not really sexually attracted to either boys or girls.

With equal measures of trepidation and excitement I rang the doorbell and waited to see who would answer.

“Hello, Can I help you?” Janet smiled and opened the door.

“Oh, hi.” I tried to raise the pitch of my voice.

“I’m sorry, but this is a private party and my parent’s made me promise that I’d only invite people that I know.”

“You did invite me.” I smiled enjoying the fact that she didn’t recognize me.

Janet looked at me closely for a long moment. “Oh, my God! I can’t believe it’s you. You’re stunning. No one’s going to recognize you. Come in and let me take your coat; or your Mother’s coat. It is your Mother’s coat, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s my mother’s coat, silly, and my dressing like this was her idea. She has been begging me to dress as a girl for Halloween for as long as I can remember. I let her do it about six years ago; and she’s been relentless every year since. I think she wanted a girl when she had me or something.” Janet’s grinning. I think she’s okay with how I look.

“You’re the first one here. Come in; and say hello to my parents. They’re going to die when they see you. I want you to answer the door when everyone starts coming. Let’s play it straight. I won’t tell anyone other than Mom and Dad; and I’ll bet you no one will guess who you are.”

Janet’s parents had a mixed reaction. Her mother laughed and carried on like I was really one of Janet’s girl friend’s. Her dad was a quite a bit less friendly to me than he normally is. Perhaps he’s naturally stand-offish with girls?

Janet was right. No one saw through my costume, which allowed me to become comfortable in my role. Most of the boys seemed to think Janet’s parents had hired me to help with the party, because I ended up taking most of their coats and fetching them their first drinks. Michael and David even ignored me. In addition, I was the only one not in a traditional Halloween costume. The boys came as devils, ninjas, prisoners, gangsters, and clowns. The girls favored cats, nuns, Victorian ladies, and angels.

For the first hour I mingled unnoticed until I answered the door and saw Denise Woods and her two best friends, Linda and Sally. They were the most popular girls in our high school and never gave me the time of day. Janet wasn’t really terrific friends with them either, but she must have felt social pressure to invite them.

“Hello, girls.” I smiled. “Come on in. Can I take your coats?”

“Sure,” Denise replied haughtily as she scanned me head-to-toe, “These coats are a lot more expensive than anyone else at this party would wear. Soooo. . .could you do your job and make sure they’re put somewhere safe.”

“Certainly, Miss!” I smiled.

Walking upstairs to Janet’s parents’ bedroom with the coats I was thinking about how obnoxious Denise had sounded when I saw Janet coming out of the bathroom. “I can’t believe you invited Denise and her two arrogant shadows.”

“I had to, or none of the boys would have come. You know that.”

“She’s such a bitch. She nearly threw her coat at me.”

“You sound just like a girl . . . nice and catty. I can’t wait to see her face when she realizes my ‘hired help’ is just you in costume.”

“I’m not sure she would know me if I wasn’t dressed like this? I’m not important enough in school for her to care if she knows me, or not.”

“You’re important to me. . .and a lot of people.”

I grinned and touched her arm lightly to let her know how much I appreciated her friendship.

Ten minutes later I was down in the den where most of the boys were huddled watching a football game. I purposely went over and started smiling at David and Michael hoping that they would realize who I was. I was beginning to feel a bit lonely in my role because the “coat girl” didn’t have any friends.

Before anyone recognized me, Billy Crenshaw tapped on my shoulder. “Why aren’t you in the kitchen with the rest of the girls? I’m Billy, I don’t think I’ve we’ve been formally introduced. Do you go to Union High?”

“Yes, I do.” I smiled, brightly, happy for the moment my costume was holding up.

“Hey, you two,” Billy said to David and Michael. “Have you taken any classes with my girlfriend here, because I can’t seem to place her?”

After looking me over closely for the first time, Michael nearly doubled over laughing. “Billy, I think your ‘girlfriend’ is really one of my best friends -- John.”

Billy’s face turned red.

“I promise you,” Michael added hurriedly, “I won’t tell anyone that he’s your girlfriend.”

“Omigawd,” Billy said breaking out in a smile. “John, if there’s a vote then you have mine for the best costume. I would’ve never guessed that it was you.”

“Your mother did a great job getting you ready,” David said, “because you look better than most of the girls here.”

Billy continued to extract himself from being fooled. All three of them expressed their amazement that I would wear “my mom’s clothes.”

Janet came up. “John, it seems that we’ve separated into boys in the den and girls in the kitchen.” She winked. “I think you should join us in the kitchen.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “They already know.” I turned from her toward the boys. “I’ll see you boys.” I smiled as I grabbed Janet’s arm, “I’ll let you know what girls really say when we’re not around.”

When we were out of ear shot she asked me how the boys reacted when they found out.

“They’re cool. We’ve been friends for a long time and they’re used to me being a little nuts.”

“Denise isn’t quite so accepting. You wouldn’t believe how embarrassed she got when I told her who you are.”

Immediately upon entering the kitchen, Janet and I were surrounded by most of the girls who peppered me about everything from my wig, my skirt and blouse, and who did my makeup. While laughing at some of the comments and answering the others, I caught sight of Denise and her friends glowering at me from the far side of the kitchen.
When things calmed down, Denise slowly made her way over. “This can’t be your first time dressing as a girl. You look too good.”

“Uhmmmm.”

“And the way you were flirting with the boys, without them knowing it was you, makes me wonder which team you’re playing for.”

“You’re right. . .about this not being my first time. Mom asked me to dress as a girl a few Halloweens ago; and I did to make her happy.”

She raised an eyebrow so high I thought it might come loose from her face. “How did she make you do it? Did she hold a gun to your head?”

“No, but. . . .”

“No, ‘buts’. ‘Real’ boys would never allow themselves to be dressed as girls. And your skirt and top. . .? I suppose you’re going to try to tell us that they’re your mother’s?”

“What do you mean?” I whispered, feeling the floor give way a bit under me.

She somehow managed to look down at me even though I towered over her. “Unless your mother shops in the teen department, it looks like they were bought specifically for you.”

Several of the girls murmured around me. I tried to catch Janet’s eyes for support, but she had looked away.

Denise pressed her advantage. “Did you buy them yourself? I’ll bet you did. Didn’t you? You have pretty good taste,” she said scornfully, “for a girl.”

Janet finally stepped in. “Denise, why don’t you go make sure the boys are having a good time -- and leave John alone.”

Denise smirked. “That’s a good idea, but why doesn’t John come with me. He looked like he was having a lot of fun with the boys.” She got in my face, again. “Wouldn’t you like to flirt with the boys a little more? Come with me; and I’ll show you how you can just brush up to them and make their little peckers pop up. I bet you’ve dreamed about getting boys excited; haven’t you?”

“Why are you doing this?” I whispered, with tears forming in my eyes.

“Oh, don’t be a cry-baby, little girl. You know that boys love getting hand jobs from girls with their nails done as beautifully as yours. Wouldn’t you love to wrap your lips around one of their cocks?”

Several girls gasped. “Tell me you haven’t dreamt about that?”

“Stop it, Denise!!” Janet demanded.

My tears had turned into torrents and sobs.

Denise continued to mock me. “Oh, please don’t cry. You look so pretty. I’m sure one of the boys would like to take you home. I’m sure he’d want to stop somewhere romantic and pop your cherry. Have you dreamt about that, too? Having a boys’ cock up your ass? I’m sure it doesn’t feel as good as a pussy for the boy, but I’m sure you’d love it.”

Almost in shock and completely in tears, I ran upstairs to grab my coat.

Behind me I heard Janet. “You’re a complete bitch, Denise!”

“Well, at least I’m a real bitch and not a fake one like your friend. The next time you invite me to a party, why don’t you screen the guest list so that I don’t have to associate with losers.”
 

 
I couldn’t stop crying. What am I going to tell Mom? She worked so hard on my makeup. I looked in the rearview mirror. I’m a mess. Maybe I can sneak in without her seeing me.

Unfortunately, she was waiting in the living room for late trick or treaters. “Is that you, John?” She asked as I closed the front door behind me. “Why are you home so early?”

“The party was a disaster.” I spoke trying to hold back my tears. “Denise Woods decided to pick on me and I couldn’t take it.”

“Come here, and let me look at you. Oh, dear, you’ve been crying. She must be a horrible girl. You went to so much trouble; and you were just having fun. Why did she attack you?”

“She’s just a little bitch. She was mad because I was getting some of the attention when she normally gets it all. She’s just so mean.”

“Come here; and let me hold you. You shouldn’t let one person ruin your evening. You just have to learn how to deal with girls like Denise.”

“But, what could I have done?”

“I don’t know, John, because I wasn’t there, but sometimes it’s best to just smile and walk away.” She took me by the shoulders and looked into my eyes. “You know it’s way too early to end your night. Didn’t the girls downtown ask you to stop in?”

“They did but I thought you didn’t want me going there.”

“I don’t want you going there without me; and I’m going with you. It’ll only take a few minutes to repair your makeup. What do you say? Do you want to go?”

“I’d love to, Mom. Can you really fix my makeup?”

Forty minutes later we were nervously walking into the Velvet Underground. Anyone looking at us would have assumed that two modestly-dressed women had made a mistake when they entered the nightclub. I had tried to prepare my mother for what I was sure was going to be a wild party but she insisted that she had seen crazier things when she was younger. There were people dressed as ghosts, devils, and policemen and firemen, but the costumes were adult in nature with quite a few approaching X-rated.

As we approached the back of the club, my Mother yelled, “I forgot how noisy and dark nightclubs can be. Do you see your friends?”

“There’s Connie over there,” I said pointing to the woman dressed like an Indian princess. “Hi, Connie, what do you think?”

“Is that you, John? You are absolutely beautiful. Come over to our table and let’s see if Debbie or Leslie recognizes you.”

“Before we do, I want to introduce you to my mother. Mom, this is Connie. Connie, this is my Mother.”

“Hi, Connie,” Mother smiled extending her hand in greeting, “Everyone except my sons call me Julie.”

“Pleased to meet you, Julie,” Connie replied taking her hand. “I’ve heard nothing but praise on what a wonderful mother you are.” She looked toward me. “Dressed like you are I can’t keep calling you ‘John’. Do you have a femme name?”

“I always liked Lisa,” I replied looking quickly over to my mother who smiled suspiciously while lifting her eyebrows. Realizing that I answered too quickly I added, “Mom, the last time I was here, Connie told me I should pick a girl’s name.”

“I think it makes perfect sense.” Mother smiled. “You are one of the prettiest girls here.”

“Let me introduce you to my friends.” Connie led us to her table. “Leslie and Debbie, I’d like to introduce you to my two friends, Lisa and Julie. Let me get two extra chairs so we can all sit together.”
 
 
Five minutes later and still not realizing that Lisa was really me, Leslie turned to Mom and asked, “So what brings you girls here tonight? You look a little out of place without costumes.”

“Well, Lisa told me she promised all of you that she would come down and show you her Halloween costume.” Mother grinned.

“Omigawd. It’s you, John, isn’t it?” Debbie laughed looking back and forth between Leslie and me.

“I can’t believe you didn’t realize it was me.” I laughed.

“You are absolutely beautiful. I suspected that you would have made a good-looking girl, but I had no idea. . . .”

“I can thank my Mother for that. She works miracles with make-up.”

“You certainly have the canvas for your mother to work on,” Connie added.

Looking at Mom, Connie smiled. “I am so happy that Lisa has such a wonderful mother like you. You don’t know how lucky she is.”

“Thank you, Connie. But you keep referring to John as a girl. Why are you doing that?”

“Have you ever heard the term, transsexual?”

“Yes, I guess I’ve read recently about that tennis player, Renee Richards. I think that’s her name. But what does that have to do with my John.”

“Well, I don’t know how much John has told you,” Connie began, “but Leslie, Debbie and I are transsexuals. So are a lot of the girls in this club.”

“John did tell me that you were guys who liked to dress as girls, but he never mentioned anything about transsexuals.”

Connie took a little sip of her wine. “My guess is he really doesn’t know we consider ourselves as transsexuals. He’s just looking for someplace safe where he could meet other boys who like to dress as girls. If you look around you see quite a few of us. Some of us consider ourselves transsexuals; simply put, we think we are really girls who were just born in the wrong body. Most of the others are transvestites. Transvestites are really men who get a sexual thrill dressing as girls.”

While Connie and Mother spoke as if I wasn’t there, Leslie grabbed my hand and escorted me to the dance floor. "Lisa, have you ever danced dressed as a girl before?"

"No," I yelled over the music, "But I've probably dreamt about it more than you could imagine."

"Well, you just follow me and I'll teach you everything you need to know about dancing as a girl."

Meanwhile back at the table, Mother was still trying to understand everything that she was hearing from Connie. “Do you think I caused this by encouraging him to dress as a girl on Halloween?”

“Absolutely not, Julie! I’m only guessing but I think if you ask him that he will tell you that he always wanted to dress as a girl. Frankly, there has only been limited research done on both transvestism and transexualism but from my point of view I don’t see a sexual aspect to his dressing. He just appears natural as a girl and he is so lucky to have a mother who loves and supports him. If you do a little research you will find that most transsexuals get rejected by their families, like Debbie, Leslie and me. Our lives are not pretty, but his life can be different with your love. I just wanted to let you know what I suspect. I hope you can help him if I’m correct.”

Reaching out and softly grabbing Connie’s hand, Mother replied. “I want to thank you, Connie. I’ve always known that John was different than his brothers, but you’ve given me a lot to think about. I can promise you that I’ll do everything I can to learn more about this and talk to him about how he feels. No matter what, I will always love and support him.”
 
 
Halloween — Chapter 5
October 31, 1980
 
 
Laying out my lingerie on my bed, I thought back to the Velvet Underground and my mother’s introduction to the world of transsexuals and transvestites. She certainly took her promise to Connie seriously and always encouraged me to follow my heart in my quest to find my own identity.

I always found the preparation for my outings as Lisa to be as much fun, if not more, than the actual outings themselves. The skirt I wore four years ago was still trendy enough although it would be better described as retro now. During a trip to the Briarwood Mall earlier this week, I was able to find a sleeveless silver blouse and a pair of open-toed shoes with a sexy 2” heel in Jacobson’s department store. It was probably the only week of the year I felt comfortable visiting the makeup counter at Jacobson’s and I had no problem sitting down with the technician and discussing makeup ideas for my upcoming outing.

Today I was meeting two girls who I contacted through a Cross Dresser’s Personal magazine. They had invited me to their apartment for a quick dinner before going to a Halloween party at a local gay bar. This was only the third time that I have met other cross dressers or transsexuals through these so-called Contact magazines and, as usual, I was fairly nervous. There were so few ways to meet other ‘girls’ and it was hit or miss through these magazines. My first two times started out innocently enough with both men buying clothes and lingerie for me and getting a hotel room. But both times they backed out of getting dressed themselves and just watched me getting dressed. Once I was dressed they both wanted to fool around and initially I was excited because I really wanted to explore how I’d feel in the role of a woman having sex with a man. Needless to say, after a little petting, both men wanted to suck on my boy parts which immediately took me out of my role as a woman. Neither of these incidents ended poorly, although they easily could have, but they certainly introduced me to an entirely new type of person–the tranny chaser.

Having shaved and moisturized my skin I sat down at my desk with my towel wrapped around my chest girl-style and turned on the light to my makeup mirror. This was my first year living alone outside of the college dormitory system and I had splurged a little getting the mirror but it was so much easier than standing in the bathroom and trying to put on my makeup.

Without my mother around, I had spent a lot of time over the past few years practicing applying my makeup on my own. My routine was generally the same; I’d apply a little beard cover before applying my foundation and setting it with pressed powder. I was hoping that the electrolysis that I was suffering through weekly would diminish my need for beard cover but electrolysis was not only painful but it was extremely slow and costly.

After setting my foundation with the powder I would move on to my brows. For the past few years I had been plucking them as much as I could without embarrassing myself. Then I’d generally line my eyebrows before applying eye shadow, eyeliner and mascara. Then after applying a little blush to my cheeks, I’d finish by lining my lips before applying my lipstick.

After finishing, I spent a few minutes reflecting on my image in the mirror. I was always pleased with my look even if I was without my wig. I never looked in the mirror when I was in boy mode; in truth, I usually avoided it. But here with my makeup on I saw the person who I wanted to be; the person who I should have been. How many people would ever feel what I was experiencing now?

Realizing that is was close to five o’clock and that I still had to get dressed and call my mother before heading to my six o’clock dinner, I quickly began to dress. Sliding my stockings slowly up my leg, I always thought about my first meeting with my gender therapist. Her very first question was, “Do you get excited when you put on your stockings?” It took me three sessions to convince her that the excitement I felt was not sexual excitement and that I never had sexual arousal when I was getting dressed. But that was not to say that I didn’t enjoy dressing. I always did. Everything from my bra with my new silicone breast forms to my skirt and blouse felt natural. Finally, crowning it off with my wig and brushing my hair out and then looking in the mirror always took my breath away.

Selecting a few bracelets and a ring from my jewelry box, I tried to think about which earrings would look good with my outfit. I was always grateful that my mother had encouraged me to keep my ears pierced despite all of the ridicule that I received at school. She also kept her word and made sure my brothers never said a word about them. Seeing a pair that Mom had given me last Christmas I quickly inserted them and sprayed myself with a little perfume.

Sitting down by the phone, I dialed my mother while putting on my new 2  ½” heels. Since buying them earlier in the week, I had worn them each day after school so I would be comfortable wearing them all night.

“Hello!”

“Hi, Mom, Guess who?” I laughed.

“Hi, Lisa, How are you? There is no need to guess when I hear that excitement in your voice. What are you doing tonight?”

“Well, I just finished dressing and I am meeting two girls for dinner before going to a Halloween party.”

“Now, I want you to tell me that you are going to be especially careful like you always do. You know how much I worry about you when you are out as Lisa. Who are the two girls? Excuse me for asking but are they real girls or girls like you.”

Sighing loudly, I replied, “Mom, you know I am always careful.” But I understood my mother’s concern because while I never felt in danger as John I always felt especially vulnerable when I was out as Lisa. “I was introduced to the two girls through my therapist and they invited me over to dinner. They graduated from college about 10 years ago and they thought it would be nice to talk over dinner before going to the party.”

I hated lying to my mother but I didn’t want her thinking I was blinding contacting people through Tranny contact magazines.

“That’s wonderful. I am glad that you are meeting other girls like yourself. It can only help you in finding yourself. How is your therapy going?”

I was so lucky to have such an understanding mother. I remember the morning after she first met Connie she asked me when we were eating breakfast, “How can we find more information about transsexuals?” I remember taking her the library at Haverford College and showing her all the information that I had learned over the years. She was voracious in searching out information; nearly as voracious as me. In fact, it was her that found my gender therapist, Dr. Coleman, when I was away at college.

“It’s going ok, I guess,” I replied. “We’ve reached a little impasse, though. I think it’s a minor issue but Dr. Coleman sees it differently. She wants me to tell her that I am a girl trapped in a boy’s body but I don’t know if that’s the way I feel. I have always wanted to be a girl and I remember praying every night that I’d wake up the next day as a girl. But I’m not sure I feel like I’m a girl trapped in this body. It’s weird because I’ve always wanted to be a girl but I’m not really sure how a girl feels because I wasn’t born a girl. I know Dr. Coleman is trying to help me and she tells me time and again that she truly believes that I am transsexual. But she won’t let me go forward and start getting female hormones unless I admit to her that I am really a girl ‘trapped in a boy’s body.’ Does any of this make any sense, Mom?”

“You certainly have me confused but I think I understand the point you are making. I don’t know if I can be of any help but let me give you my thoughts. You were always different than your brothers. You were much more sensitive, insightful and caring. And while your brothers were always involved in sports, you were much more interested in playing inside and using your imagination. A mother always wants her children to be happy so I never pushed you into sports but I was always worried because you always shied away from boy’s activities. But it wasn’t until a few years ago that I understood that you wanted to be a girl. I just wasn’t looking for that when you were younger.”

“Thanks, Mom. You always make me feel better. You don’t know what it means to me that you love me no matter what. I love you so much and I hate to run but I better before I’m late for dinner. I love you!”

Twenty minutes later, I was pacing outside of the apartment building on Washington Street. Wearing the Burberry swing coat that my mother had given me as a gift, I wasn’t as nervous about being seen as Lisa (Halloween is the best excuse) as I was nervous about meeting my new friends. Finally, with some trepidation, I entered to lobby and rang the buzzer to their fifth floor apartment.

“Hello, is that you, Lisa?” a slightly masculine voice inquired over the intercom.

“Yes,” I barely whispered in reply.

“Go over to the door and I’ll buzz you in. And, dear, don’t be nervous. Just take the elevator and knock on 505 and we’ll let you in.”

After getting off the elevator I walked slowly to apartment 505 wondering just how I had gotten myself in the position that I was dressed as a girl and getting ready to have dinner with two other boy-girls while my regular friends were at Halloween parties at various fraternities. I wasn’t worried so much that I would run into any of my friends at the Flame nightclub because the Flame was a gay club that none of my friends ever visited. I was just worried about where my desire to be a girl was leading me both socially and professionally. As I was getting ready to knock on the door, I heard the chain lock being removed and the door slowly opened.

“Hello, Lisa, please come in,” a voice from behind the door started, “I’m Jenny and this is Sally. I just don’t want anyone passing in the hallway to see us so come in quickly.”

“You are simply beautiful,” Sally smiled as she opened her arms and pulled me closer in a hug before leaning closer and air kissing my cheek. “It looks like you have had plenty of practice dressing. The boys will be all over you when we go out tonight. Have you been to the Flame before?”

“Before you answer let me give you a hug and grab your coat, dear,” Jenny said, “and then let’s go into the living room and have a glass of wine before dinner. Would you like a glass of Chardonnay, dear?”

“I’d love a glass, Jenny,” I replied while Sally took my hand and led me over to the living area. The room was nicely decorated but then just about any room would look better than a college students’. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the chair she offered me looked like something my grandmother would own and sadly out of place for someone their age. In addition, although there were a few paintings and drawings on the wall, I immediately noticed the absence of any pictures or photos in the room. I was surprised that both of them were wearing wigs because they identified themselves as transsexuals in the contact magazine and I expected that they both would have grown out there own hair.

“So have you been to the Flame before, Lisa?” Sally asked while Jenny was getting my glass of wine.

“No, I haven’t. I know it’s the best gay club in Ann Arbor but I haven’t been there yet.”

“Well, it’s one of the few places that makes girls like us feel welcome,” Sally smiled, “especially on Halloween.”

“Here you are, Lisa,” Jenny said as she glided effortlessly across the room in 3” heels. “I love your skirt and your heels. They’re perfect with your sleeveless blouse. I see that you either are blessed with very little hair or shave your arms like we do.”

Flushing profusely, I answered, “I do shave my arms as well as some other places when I get to go out as Lisa. You and Sally look great in your strapless cocktail dresses. Do you live full time as Jenny and Sally?”

Looking at Sally, Jenny smiled and looked back to me and started, “Lisa, Sally and I love meeting young girls like you because we really want to help our younger sisters. Sally and I dress and live as girls all the time except when we have to go to work or maybe stop for groceries. Because of that, we keep ourselves fully shaved at all times. Of course, we’ve both had about 250 hours of electrolysis on our faces and we are hoping that our faces will be completely clear in about 50 more hours. Have you tried any electrolysis?”

“I’ve had 12 hours but the technician thought I’d only need about 200 hours in total.” I never thought about what I’d look like without a beard or what I looked like when I shaved my body hair but looking at both Jenny and Sally made me a little bit uneasy. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Both of them were thin and moved with feminine grace. But I didn’t understand why they didn’t commit to living full-time as women. It also explains the lack of photos in the apartment. How could they display pictures of themselves if someone from the ‘boy’ part of their lives decided to visit; like their families?

“I wish I only needed 200 hours on my face because I’d now have them working on my arms and chest,” Sally laughed, “If you have already started electrolysis then I suspect that you consider yourself a transsexual, Lisa?”

“That’s a difficult question, Sally,” I replied after taking a sip of my wine. “My therapist and I are arguing over whether I think I was born in the wrong body. My earliest memories are of wanting to be a girl but I don’t know if I’d say I’m just a girl in the wrong body. That seems a little superficial. But I do think that I’m not a transvestite because my dressing is less about sexual arousal and more about feeling comfortable in my own skin.”

“I think I know where your analyst is going the ‘girl trapped in a boy’s body thing,’ “Jenny replied, “The current clinical belief is that you aren’t a real transsexual unless you feel that way; as if there is only one way to be transsexual. My advice to you is to step back from your therapy until you are convinced of your orientation. Then if you are convinced that you are transsexual you should go back and tell her what she wants to hear.”

“Jenny, you and Sally both identified yourselves as transsexual in the contact magazine I got your names from. Why are you working as men and living at home as women?”

“Are you familiar with the Johns Hopkins Gender Identity Clinic?” Sally inquired.

“A little, I think that is one of the few places that performs transsexual surgery, isn’t it?”

“Yes, dear, it was,” Sally began. “It stopped doing surgery for transsexuals in October of 1979. The head of the clinic declared that transsexual surgery didn’t work. Jenny and I were on track to have our surgery there this year but everything was put on hold. Neither of us knows what to do. Frankly, we are both devastated. We can start at one of the other centers but people are thinking of following Johns Hopkins lead and we don’t want to get lost somewhere else. We were in therapy just like you are. We were receiving female hormones and we were hoping to have our surgery but everything stopped. Our physician even stopped prescribing us hormones as a result of the clinic’s closing. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be happy. Jenny and I refuse to be unhappy and that is why we live as women at home. Until something changes, it’s the best we can hope for. Here, let’s go over to the dining room table while I refresh our wine. Dinner is just about ready.”

As we headed into the dining room, I couldn’t help asking myself, “Is this all there is?” I know Sally said she was devastated but I was beside myself. I wanted a normal life as a woman not a life in the shadows. Why hadn’t my therapist told me about Johns Hopkins? How would she prescribe me female hormones if Jenny and Sally couldn’t get them? Would I be having more fun with my friends at the fraternities or would I be happier hiding in the shadows with girls like Jenny and Sally? What was I willing to give up to live as a girl? For that matter, would having surgery (if I can find a clinic to do it) really make me a girl?
 
 
Halloween — Chapter 6
October 31, 1986
 
 
Leaving work at noon proved to be easy. The bank that I worked at expected business to slow down in the afternoon with families preparing for Halloween. Several employees with young children were also given the afternoon off.

I had to remind myself to slow down while driving to my mother’s house. The adrenalin my body pumped had made my foot heavy. It had been six years since I had been dressed as Lisa; I was bursting with anticipation. My mother had called the second week of September when she had learned that her breast cancer had returned and asked if she could spend Halloween with my family. Knowing that I had been extremely open with my wife, Karen, about my struggles with gender identity, she also asked if she could bring a witch’s costume and help me dress for her one last time.

Karen had never really seen me dressed as a woman. Her mental picture of me as a witch must have been entertaining because she quickly agreed. She knew that the return of the cancer was not a good sign and how important Mother was to our family. Karen’s eyes reflected her sorrow.

As I drove toward Mother’s house I couldn’t help but reflect on my last evening out as Lisa in 1980 and the two other ‘girls’ in Ann Arbor, Michigan. It seemed like yesterday -- especially the shock I felt when I learned that Johns Hopkins was no longer performing sex reassignment surgery. Despite being devastated, I forced myself to enjoy the evening, but I resolved that night to purge Lisa for good.

When my mother learned of my decision the next day, she was both supportive and anxious. She immediately told me that my identity as Lisa would not go away and could only be suppressed. I didn’t believe her, because I thought I could control my emotions and could walk away from that part of me. When she insisted that I ship all of Lisa’s clothes, shoes, wigs, and breast forms to her, I agreed, but only to make her happy.

I knocked on her door. She had known me better than I had when she forced me to send my clothes to her six years ago.

“Hi, Mom,” I said opening the door myself. “Where are you?” I called into the quiet house.

“Hi, Honey, I’m down in the basement. Can you help me with a few things?”

“Mom, I don’t want you carrying anything. I’ll be right down,” I yelled, as I quickly went downstairs.

She gave me a knowing grin. “I am so happy that I saved your things. Look, I washed all of your lingerie today -- and your wigs and breast forms look brand new. Can you carry that box upstairs because I want to show you your costume which I’ve stored in the closet?”

Following her upstairs my heart pounded in anticipation of seeing the outfit she had selected for me. Expecting to see something that the Wicked Witch of the West would wear I was surprised and delighted when she pulled out black and pink, peasant-top mini-dress with matching black lace petticoat.

“What do you think, Honey? It’s a size 10 which I think will be perfect; your black high heels that I saved will go perfect with it.”

“I don’t know what to say, Mom. It’s beautiful. The neckline is a little risqué but I love the petticoat. I thought you would want me to wear some old, ugly, witch’s costume -- not a pretty dress. Karen asked if I was going to paint my skin green and walk stooped over.”

“Who says you have to be an ‘ugly’ witch? The store I bought this in sold only sexy, adult costumes. Knowing Karen, she’ll be amazed when I’m through with you.”

I’m not sure if “amazed” will describe how she’ll feel.
 
 
“We should hurry, Honey. I bought you Nair. We have a lot to do before Karen brings Tommy home at three thirty.”

“Mom, I don’t know about the Nair. I’m not sure Karen is expecting. . . .”

She smiled like I had just told her Santa probably wouldn’t bring me everything I wanted. “Don’t worry, dear, I’ve already talked to Karen. Your hair will grow back.”

“Ok, Mom, let me help you into the car, and then I’ll come back for everything and lock the door.”

One hour later, I sat at my wife’s vanity in my lingerie and pantyhose while my mother finished my nails. She had carefully applied nail extensions and was painting them a deep wine red when she asked, “Honey, have you missed being Lisa?”

“That’s a difficult question, Mom, because I am really happy being married to Karen and you know how much joy you get in being a parent. I know we had Tommy pretty quickly after we got married, but he has brought so much into our lives. At the same time, this gender thing never leaves my mind. It’s there every single day; I don’t think it will ever go away. I just felt natural being Lisa; I’ve really been looking forward to today. So, I guess the answer is ‘Yes’ -- I have missed being Lisa.”

“For so many years I thought you were just indulging me when you let you dress you up for Halloween. Now I think we are ‘indulging’ each other. Now you’re just letting me have some fun because you’re worried I won’t make it to next Halloween.”

“Mom, you’re going to be okay and. . . .”

“Enough of that! As I was saying, I’m just indulging what I believe is your need to be Lisa. Now that I’m finished doing your nails I want you to keep your hands away from me while I work on your face.”

“Mom, are you sure this isn’t too much for you? I could do my makeup when my nails dry.”

“Not a chance, Honey. Wait until you see the results when I’m finished.”

Thirty minutes later, Mom zipped my dress from behind while I waited anxiously to see the results of her makeover. “Honey, you can’t look in the mirror until I put on your wig. Here, why don’t you slip on your heels, while I adjust and brush out your wig? Perfect! Let’s go over to the full-length mirror and look at how beautiful you turned out.”

Looking in the mirror, a deep joy flooded my entire being. “I can’t believe it, Mom! You’re right; I don’t know if I’d call myself beautiful, but I do think I look pretty good. I forgot how much I like looking at myself as Lisa. It feels like I’m looking at the ‘real’ me.”

“Honey, that’s why I’m here tonight,” Mother smiled as she reached out and tightly held me with tears falling down her cheeks, “Lisa is the ‘real’ you. Now let’s decide on your jewelry. I think this necklace will look great with the dress. It’s too bad your ears have closed, but I brought a few clip-ons that should work. I think I hear Karen pulling into the driveway. Why don’t you spray yourself with a little perfume and grab your witch’s hat and broom and meet me downstairs? I can’t wait to see Karen’s surprise when she sees you.”

As Mom made her way slowly down the stairs, I continued staring in the mirror thinking about all those evenings I went to bed dreaming about waking up as a girl. I would have given anything to be the girl I was now looking at; no one except my mother truly understood who I was. Shaking myself out of my day dream, I sprayed on a little Chanel # 5 before putting my lipstick and powder in a black clutch with a shoulder strap. After putting on my witch’s hat, I grabbed the broom, took a deep breath, and made my way downstairs. I could hear Mom talking in the family room.

“Is that my wonderful grandchild?”

“Hi! Grandma,” Tommy yelled.

“Hello, Mother,” Karen said. “Let me help you into a chair.”

I waited at the bottom of the stairs -- afraid to show myself.

“Let me see your costume and give me a kiss, Tommy,” Mother said. “You’ll never be too old to kiss your Grandma.”

“I’m Spider-man, Grandma. Did you make Daddy a witch? Mommy said you did.”

“Yes, I did, Tommy. Wait until you see what she looks like.”

Not knowing the reception I’d receive from both Tommy and Karen, I slowly walked into the family room -- moving naturally in my heels, as if I wore them every day.

“That lady is pretty!” Tommy blurted.

“That lady is your dad,” Mother said. “She’s just dressed like a witch.”

From the look on Karen’s face I can tell she’s not amused.

“Hi, Tommy, do you like my costume?”

“You’re pretty, Daddy.”

“Thanks, Tommy,” I smiled, anxiously looking over at Karen, “What do you think, Honey?”

“I don’t know what to say, John,” Karen hissed, “Can I have a word with you upstairs?”

“Sure, dear, I’ll meet you in our bedroom.”

Upstairs, Karen, obviously shaking, quickly got to the point, “What are you and your mother thinking? Look at you. Did you shave your entire body? When your mother discussed this dressing-up thing with me I thought she was planning on something funny, like an old witch. I don’t know if you heard her but she refers to you with female pronouns. How do you think I feel? You’re prettier than most women we know; my God, you’re probably prettier that me.”

“I’m sorry, Karen,” I replied uncertain where to begin to respond to everything she had said. “I did shave my whole body. I don’t want to blame my mother, but she thought you’d understand. It grows back quickly -- and we thought I’d look silly with hair all over. I won’t ever shave it again, I promise.”

“I still can’t get over you. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Your son even called you ‘pretty’. I don’t remember if he’s ever called me pretty. And look at your heels; they have to be at least three inches and you walk perfectly in them like you wear them every day. Did your Mother take you out to get a manicure? Even your nails are perfect. What am I to think?”

“I’m. . . . It’s going to be. . . . Mother said. . . . “Seeing the pain and confusion on her face and the tears gently falling on her cheeks, I quickly tried to hug her.

“No, don’t you touch me.” She moved a step away from me and stood with her hands on her hips. Her eyes flashed a warning to me to keep my distance. “You even have my perfume on.” She stopped for a moment and collected herself. “I need to be by myself.”

“Karen, we need to talk.”

She shook her head.

I can’t leave it like this. “I’ve always been honest with you. Before we were married I told you about my gender issues. I never lied to you, and more importantly, I haven’t been dressed like this since well before I met you. When I married you I promised to love and honor you forever. I gave up dressing because I wanted to be with you and to have a family. Getting dressed today was Mom’s idea.”

Wiping away her tears, Karen turned and looked into my eyes. “I never knew how serious your dressing as a girl was. I thought it had been a lark. But looking at how you look. . . . It’s hard for me to look at you like this -- how natural you walk and gesture with your hands. This isn’t a game; it’s a real serious issue for you, isn’t it?”

Should I deny it? Is our marriage at stake? I nodded. “I’d be lying if I told you it wasn’t a problem.” Tears flowed freely down my cheeks. “But I understood what I was doing when I gave it up and fell in love with you. I wanted to have a life together; a family together. I’ll take everything off right now if that’s what you want,” I whispered and slowly started to take off my wig.

She stopped me by grabbing my arm. “No, Honey, That’s not what I want. Please hold me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just never really knew. I don’t want to ruin everything for your mother. Not with her feeling so poorly and . . . . Now, there, let me hold you. By the way, your wig frames your face beautifully.”

Is she serious? “Thank you. What do you want me to do?”

“Let me fix your makeup because we promised your Mother that we’d have fun tonight. Tommy expects me to take him out ‘trick or treating’ but we have to make sure he doesn’t get confused about your dressing. Can you act a little less girly around him, like easing up on the female gestures? Your Mother wants to help you hand out the candy so let’s not disappoint her. But, do you really mean it when you say that you don’t need to get dressed as a girl anymore?”

“I really mean it, Honey. I love you so much and I’d do anything for you. I haven’t dressed in six years -- and I promise I won’t again.”
 

 
Later in the afternoon after Karen and Tommy left to ‘trick or treat’ I told my Mother about my conversation with Karen.

“I’m sorry that I caused you both so much trouble, dear. I just wanted to let you be Lisa again. I think it is more important than you realize. But now that you’ve promised Karen that you won’t, I want you to promise me that you will keep your word to Karen. Come over here and let me hold your hands. Your hands are so feminine; I love the color of your nails. You truly look beautiful, Honey. I want you to know that I still think of you as my daughter and always will but I want to hear your promise, because I love Karen and Tommy, too.”

“I promise that I will never dress as Lisa again, Mom. You know I love my family; I wouldn’t do anything to hurt them.”

“Lisa, as women we are taught from an early age to sacrifice everything for our families and the sacrifice you are making truly makes you a woman forever in my mind.”

I haven’t dressed as Lisa for six years, but can I really give it up for the rest of my life? What happens if something changes? Well, I don’t even want to think about that.
 
 
Halloween — Final Chapter
October, 2008
 
 
Pushing the elevator button in the lobby of my building automatically reminded me of the many changes that had occurred in my life over the past five years. My wife, Karen, and I had lived for fifteen years in a red-brick colonial in Haverford before she died tragically in a car accident. Every time I entered the elevator I was reminded of how much I missed her. Giving up our home and moving into a condominium had been a simple — but ineffective - way of trying to move away from the pain in my life.

Inspecting my recently manicured fingers reminded of other changes. I smiled approvingly at their ruby-colored nails. ~There’s nothing like a manicure or shopping to pick me up after a long day.~ Having no plans, I looked forward to a light dinner before finishing the novel that I was reading for my book club.

As I exited the elevator on the fifth floor, I thought back to the first time I had dressed again as Lisa -- two months after Karen’s funeral. I had looked in the mirror at the real me -- for the first time in over twenty years. I had kept my promise to both Karen and my mother, but didn’t know what was next.

An overwhelming wave of emotions convinced me that I could never give Lisa up -- again. I spent the next few weeks searching the internet and found a completely new community that immediately opened its heart to me. The guilt I had felt years before dissolved into personal satisfaction and resolve. . .which led to. . .changes.

My wall phone rang as I approached my apartment; I quickly rifled my shoulder bag for my keys and opened the door. Despite my efforts the answering machine picked up just before I could.

“Hello, ugh, I’m not sure how to begin. . . .”

Oh My God. It’s Tommy!

“This is your son, Tom . . . and I just wanted to say hello. I don’t even know what to call you. Calling you ‘Dad’ doesn’t seem right….”

Nearly in shock, I quickly grabbed the phone. “Tommy, it’s so wonderful to hear your voice. I don’t care what you call me. You can still call me ‘Dad’ if you want to, but I legally changed my name to Lisa a few years ago. But — all that doesn’t really matter. How are you -- and how are Debbie and Michael?” I reached for a tissue and in the process spilled my purse.

“We’re doing great . . . Lisa. I guess that wasn’t too difficult. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. You’re Lisa, and I shouldn’t be such a fool. Lisa -- Debbie is expecting again; Mikey is thrilled to have either a brother or sister.”

A new baby? I hadn’t heard. “That’s wonderful news. How old is Michael now?”

“He’s four and he’s a handful, but I can’t imagine what my life would be like without him.”

You can’t imagine your life without him. How do you think I’ve felt since you and my brothers tossed me out of your lives three years ago?

“Lisa, ma-ah. . .Dad. I’m calling, because I need to apologize to you. I got to thinking how I couldn’t stand the idea of living without Mikey . . . and I got to thinking about you and me. I’m sorry. I didn’t really know what to think -- when you told me that you were becoming a woman.”

“It was my fault. It was me.” There were a thousand things I did wrong when I came out. It was so hard on him, but I had to.

“No, it was me; I want you to hear me out. Just before Mom died she sent me a letter that I found difficult to read. It was during my last year in college and emotionally I was a wreck. She wrote that some things may change after she was gone; she wanted me to support you no matter what. Two years later when you told me about transitioning, Mom’s letter was the last thing on my mind. It wasn’t until last March when I was visiting Uncle Steve that I found out that Mom had written similar letters to both him and Uncle Bill.”

I miss them so terribly much. Neither Steven nor Billy has spoken to me since I told them.

“Mom was more explicit with both of them. I guess she didn’t think I could handle it then. She told them that you had always had gender identity issues and that she, as well as your mother, were convinced that you were a transsexual. I guess what they told me got me thinking for the first time in years. I spent the past few months researching transexualism and gender identity. I’m calling to ask you to forgive me. I’ve always loved you.” His voice, which had been catching all through the call, finally failed him. He struggled to talk again. “Debbie and I want you back in our lives. Please.”

“I don’t know what to say, Tommy.” I could barely whisper between my sobs. “I’m so happy. I’ve missed you so -- it hurt.”

“Debbie and I would love to have you join us for dinner next Friday . . . on Halloween. Can you make it?”

Could I?! “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Can you get off work early and come over about three? We’re going to take Michael out ‘trick or treating’ and we’d really like it if you could hand out candy for us. Like you did when I was a kid -- every Halloween.”

“I’d love too.” I laughed thinking about all my past Halloweens. “Can I bring anything for dinner? A salad or something?”

“No, we have everything taken care of.”

“But, I can drive over tonight. Why wait?” I can’t believe this is really happening.

“Oh, we’ve already got everything set up. -- I don’t want this to be a problem. Uhmmmm - both Uncle Steve and Uncle Bill are coming on Halloween, with their wives.”

Billy and Steven? “Are you sure you want to do this?” None of them has spoken to me in years.

“They want to get together. After I researched transexualism, I called a family meeting and told them everything that I learned. They had their problems, at first, understanding it -- but then I invited a gender therapist to another meeting with all of us. She really helped -- everyone is looking forward to getting together, although not without some anxiety. I’m sorry change is so difficult to accept, but we all want you back in our lives. We really do.”

He’s so much like his mother. “Oh, Tommy, I’m speechless.” I never dared dream that anything like this would ever happen. “I love you so much.”
 

 
“Lisa, why don’t you and Mary watch for ‘trick or treaters’ while I start getting our dinner prepared. Tommy and Debbie should be back with Michael in about an hour. I don’t think Steve or Billy will move from the TV until the dinner is on the table…unless they need a beer, of course.”

“That’s a perfect plan, Sarah,” I replied, smiling. “I love answering the door on Halloween.”

So far the evening had turned about even better than my heightened expectations. Tommy’s work on researching transexualism and the earlier meeting with the gender therapist had definitely opened the door for our family dinner. Unlike other Halloweens, I deliberately underdressed for the occasion. Wearing black dress slacks with a gold cashmere cardigan and shell, I wore black flats to take attention away from my height. After the initial awkward re-introductions, we all seemed to fit back into familiar patterns until Debbie asked if I’d like to help her in the kitchen. Sarah immediately joined us and I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sense of shared female intimacy while we chatted and prepared dinner.

When Tommy and Debbie finally returned we all sat down for dinner after watching Mikey show all of his candy. Immediately after saying a prayer of thanks the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get that,” I laughed, “Everyone begin; I’ll be right back.”

Opening the door I saw a young mother with what I thought was her daughter of about eight years old dressed as Cinderella, “Now aren’t you beautiful. What is your name?”

“I’m David.”

“And who are you dressed as, David?

“I’m Cinderella.” He grinned and attempted a curtsy.

I laughed quietly. “Well, you’re the prettiest Cinderella I’ve ever seen. What treat would you like?” I smiled holding up a bowl half-filled with candy bars. “We have M&M’s, Kit-Kats, and Skittles.”

“Thank you . . . and Trick or Treat,” he said with an enormous smile while grabbing a Kit-Kat bar.

While he was turning away his mother quickly came forward and whispered, “God Bless you! I don’t think he’ll ever forget you and your kindness.”

“Don’t be silly,” I smiled, “I remember a little boy who was almost as pretty as David trick or treating as Snow White on Halloween.” Seeing that she was looking at me without understanding, I continued. “I was that little boy. Here, let me give you my card. If you ever need to talk to anyone about gender issues and your son -- please give me a call. I’ve become somewhat of an expert.”

Her face opened to me. “I’d love to. How about tomorrow? I’ve been looking for answers; I don’t know where to turn.”

“Don’t worry, dear. All your son needs is your love and the love of his family -- and everything will work out. Just call me tomorrow; we can meet at Starbucks.”

She nodded, and then slowly walked away smiling broadly. I quietly closed the door and turned around . . . only to be surprised by Steven who had been standing behind me -- with tears rolling down his cheeks.

He’s still the vulnerable one.

“I can’t believe how kind and gentle you are,” he said, wiping away his tears. “I don’t know anyone who would have been so kind. No, actually I do. Do you know how much you remind me of Mom? You’re just as beautiful and sensitive. I’m sorry I didn’t understand that until right now.”

I closed my eyes and told my wife and Mom everything was going to be okay.

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