The Barbie Bride

Part 2

I was sitting up on the examination table with my legs spread. I was wearing a cotton gown that was tied in the back. Sitting on a large piece of paper that crinkled around every time I moved was strange. I was lost in my thoughts when I realized the doctor was talking to me.

“Haley, could you slip your underwear off, please?”

I knew this was going to happen and worried this was where the whole thing exploded. The doctor knew I was trans, but up until that moment, my junk was hidden, and I felt like I looked a lot more like a girl than a guy. Of course, not really. I looked like a girl with a buzz cut. I was still hoping they’d find a miracle cure to make my hair grow back faster. I Googled it. The average person's hair grew nine to ten inches a year. That meant that I’d maybe have three-inch hair long by September. I hoped that my hair would grow back faster and I would look better quickly.

So when the doctor asked me to take off my underwear, I did. I sat up and scooted my panties off. She stared down at my crotch and frowned.

“Haley, I need to examine your penis and your scrotum.”

I tried not to sob as I stood. Of course, the first thing that I noticed was how breezy it felt on my backside. I spread my legs and presented myself to her. Even with my panties off, my penis still curved back between my legs, and my testicles were up inside my body.

The doctor sat on a stool. She looked at my tucked penis and watched as I urged my testicles down from my body. I stood up and wiggled them out. They slowly came back down between my legs.

She frowned and asked me about that. “Is that how you keep your genitals during the day?”

I nodded. “It’s fine. It’s not uncomfortable, and my underwear fits better. It keeps everything very private. I can wear panties, and no one ever questions me about my gender.”

“I see. Then you dress as a female all the time?”

“Yes. Mom said I could live my life this way if I wanted to. She said it was fine.”

The doctor wore gloves. She gently manipulated my genitals and patiently waited. After a few minutes, she seemed satisfied with their eventual response.

I smiled and tried to explain. “It takes a few seconds for the blood to circulate and for them to warm up. I shake them out twice each day when I shower in the morning and wash before bed. But I feel better this way. I don’t like my penis or my testicles. It’s like they belong to someone else.”

The doctor looked me in the eyes. She frowned. “Haley, I question what you’re doing. You’re cutting off the circulation to your testes. That is not healthy.”

“What could happen?” I was concerned.

She started to sound like a WebMD paragraph. “Your scrotum contributes to your growth and maturity. That’s where most of your testosterone is generated. If you cut off the circulation to your testes, it would result in lower testosterone production. You could slow down your puberty or delay it altogether.”

She paused to let that sink in. Then she went on. “I understand that you are very interested in transitioning, but self-castration is not the way to go. I understand that you don’t want to start male puberty and instead want to postpone it until you can start a hormone regimen and transition, right?”

I nodded and spoke. “If I stop my testosterone production, won’t that keep my boy puberty from starting?”

The doctor frowned. “It might slow down or stop your puberty, but it will also affect your development. That’s not what I’d recommend. Without puberty, your body might not develop fully. It could result in loss of bone density and complications.”

I decided to stand up for myself. “But without testosterone, I’m not in danger of getting muscles and body hair. It will keep me like this, right?”

The doctor shook her head. “Well, castrating yourself will keep you from getting the testosterone you would need to have puberty and become an adult male. However, the side effects you might suffer might cause you to damage your body. You’d stop growth in muscles, bones, organs, and your immune systems.

“Uh, but isn’t there a way to mature but keep me from becoming a man?”

She looked me in the eyes and sighed. “You can postpone your puberty temporarily, possibly until you are sixteen or eighteen, but your body needs to experience puberty. If you qualify to transition, you'll eventually take estrogen and experience female puberty. We can examine some ways we can chemically block your testosterone from affecting you and delay puberty. But I’d like to see you doing it under a doctor’s care, not on your own.”

She shook her head. “Before we consider all of this, I’ll need to hear from specialists about what they recommend. We can’t just start you on a testosterone-blocking prescription without seeing a counselor who specializes in gender-affirming care and a genetic specialist. There are protocols to determine if you are transgender, and then we can talk about something together. This will take some time, but I will support you if you follow my guidance. Okay?”

I nodded and gulped.

“Haley, I understand your motivation, but a do-it-yourself sex change is not recommended. You’re too young and need to talk to several experts before making a life-changing decision. As your doctor, I don’t recommend that you tuck anymore.”

I felt like a puppet, nodding to everything she said. Unfortunately, I was not listening. I wanted to start my change now and didn’t want to wait another minute.

Finally, the doctor smiled. “We’re all finished up here. You are a healthy person. Please come back and see me after you’ve seen those specialists. And be sure to remind any doctors you see to keep me in the loop. I will probably be the one prescribing any medications.”

I watched her walk away. As soon as she left, I picked up my clothes and dressed. I did not tuck. I wanted to get home and research all of this on my computer.

I sat in the waiting room while the doctor and my mom talked. When we got back in the car, my mom was quiet. Then she looked over at me and spoke. “Your doctor gave me some names of people to contact. How do you feel about seeing a gender specialist and a counselor?”

I didn’t have to think about it. “Sure. I think it would be great to talk to some experts. I want good advice on starting my transition as soon as possible.”

Mom smiled. “Oh, honey. In my eyes, you are already there. Haley is my daughter, who I love very much. I understand your needs, and your happiness is important. I’m never going to be a roadblock.”

I cried and hugged her. It was terrific to hear Mom say such wonderful words.

She looked at me. “One more question.”

I gulped and nodded.

“Do you want to get ice cream?”

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After seeing my pediatrician, things settled down a bit. It was just mom and me now. My father had been found guilty of assault and battery. He was being charged with what he did to me, and then there were the police officers. He was charged with resisting arrest. His lawyers waved a request for bail, and he pleaded guilty.

Two weeks later, he was sentenced to two years in prison, but there were stipulations. He would serve ninety days in the County jail and then be released to a halfway house. When he got out, he had a restraining order against contact with us. He would stay in the halfway house and work. If things went well, he'd move in with his mother. He’d be fitted with an ankle monitor. Mom said the judge would return him to jail if he violated the court orders.

After Mom got off the phone with her lawyer, she pulled me aside. “Haley, it’s important that you listen to me and understand what I’m saying. Your father is gone out of our lives. He won’t be coming back. Maybe he will straighten out someday, but if he violates his court requirements, he will be returned to jail.”

She paused and let that sink in. Whenever she mentioned my dad, I felt a knot in my stomach like I was going to be sick. “But you have time to recover and move forward. The court wants you to see a counselor, and hopefully, we can find the right person for you.”

I felt the tears rolling down my face. Up until that moment, I’d never felt scared. Now, that was all I could feel. I jumped at every shadow, expecting to be grabbed and abused all over again. I felt my mom envelop me in a bear hug.

“Mrs. Dombrowski and I will do our best to watch out for the two of you girls. And Brooke’s sister Melody will help us, too. We figure that we women will be able to keep you safe. The judge has already told us that the halfway house will be in another county on the other side of the state near where your grandmother lives. If your father ever tries to come after us, his alarm will go off; he will be arrested and go back to jail.”

“I know you’re frightened, but eventually realize you're safe.”

This hopefully meant that Brooke and I had a real summer ahead of us. I tried to be positive. “Uh, can we shop for clothes? I would like to have a whole new wardrobe and donate Howard’s clothes. Maybe we can go to the mall.”

Mom frowned. “Sure, I understand how important it is for you to feel as good as possible. But right now, we have a money problem. I used up a lot of our savings to pay for the lawyers. And without your dad’s paycheck, we'll have to live on my salary now. My counselor’s salary will cover our bills, but we don’t have much left over for luxuries. But it’s not the end of the world. We'll learn to make due.”

“Can we afford to go see these new doctors to help me with my transition?”

“Sure. Our insurance covers them. That’s another benefit of working for a hospital system. And I have already requested an appointment with HR to see about a raise and the opportunity to work more hours within their counseling services.”

I could only nod and hope for the best. I was worried about my dad and now, our money, too.

Mrs. Dombrowski encouraged Brooke’s older sister to take us to the mall on Saturday. I explained that we wouldn’t spend any money and told her about our finances.

“Well, I think that even a little walk around will help you to relax and stop worrying.” She handed each of us a ten-dollar bill. “Lunch is on me.”

Saturday at the mall is always fun. The mall always tries to have something going on, and there was a teen fair this week. There were lots of booths, and it looked like a carnival. People were selling homemade jewelry, trinkets, scarves, felt berets, and other cool stuff.

Melody walked behind us. “Haley, maybe we need to buy you a head scarf or a beret.”

Brooke laughed and turned to her sister. “No, she doesn’t need a coverup. That stuff will draw attention to her head.”

I nodded. "Yeah. Right now, I just look like some punk kid with a buzz." I still looked more like a girl with my clothes and the bits of makeup I was wearing.

They were debating this as we walked by another booth. The woman working there overheard us. She turned and saw the scars and stitches.

I self-consciously ran my hand over my head. I could feel my hair it growing back. It looked a lot like a shave, but it was more uneven. “Uh, kinda like a court case and abuse. But it’s growing back.” I shook my head and wiped my eyes before a tear started to form.

“I’m Leana Johnson, and I’m a professional photographer. I like your look and think it’s unique. I’d emphasize it rather than hide it. Everybody always wants to look the same these days. Earrings would look nice.”

She looked me over. As she did, a man walked up to us. His name tag read George Johnson, Johnson Studios. “I could work with it, emphasize it. Nice variation.”

Leana smiled. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that mannequins are timeless. Their looks purposely don’t take away from the clothes. Have you ever thought of being a model?”

My Spidey sense was on alert, and I wondered what nonsense they were selling. I sounded defensive but spoke my mind. “No, I think that you’re spinning dreams here. I’ll bet you want to sell me modeling lessons so you can rake in big bucks.”

George laughed. He sounded like Santa Claus and that ho-ho-ho kind of laugh. “We don't do model training. That's not our business. Our trade is online catalog photography. We shoot clothing from manufacturers so they can provide the online stores with photos of their products. We have large contracts with companies but are always looking for kids who want to model our children’s lines.”

I heard Brooke sigh longingly.

I turned and looked at her. “What?”

“Oh, Haley. I'd love to be a model. It seems like such a romantic life. Travel, clothes, glamour, boys, and more boys.”

I turned to the Johnsons and immediately blurted out, “I can’t afford modeling lessons, and I’m trans.”

The woman smiled and nodded. “Honey, you're beautiful, and I love your red hair. Don’t worry. I’m not interested in taking your money. I was thinking about paying you money. How would you like to work with us doing online catalog modeling?”

Brooke and I listened as Leana told us about working for her during the week. They wanted twelve-year-old models for the children’s line they shot. She got our attention when she said, “Fifty dollars an hour, and you keep all the clothes you model.”

George handed us each a contract and told us to take them home and talk to our parents. He said we would work twenty hours each week in their studio during the summer. "During the school year, it's half of that."

On the way home, Brooke and I discussed making money and getting more clothes. We were excited, and I couldn’t wait to talk to my mom.

“Mom, I can make money, a thousand dollars each week! And I get free clothes. And yes, I told them that I was trans, and they seemed okay with that. Melody said she could be our driver, but we’d have to pay her. I can also work during the school year.”

Mom listened.

“Mom! I’m so excited. This is a dream come true.”

Mom frowned. “It sounds like a dream. I hope it all works out. Of course, I am going to say yes and call our lawyer. I want his opinion and want him to check any contract that you are signing. I will be the signing adult, but the money will all be yours. I will only be a gentle brake so you don’t go on a spending spree. But let's take one step at a time.”