Jennifer Christine
The continuing story of Jenny Holland

Part 13

The fact I was hurting numbed me slightly to the impending procedure.
Until I received in the post a large envelope marked with the clinic’s logo.
It was waiting for me when I got home the day after my appointment with Julie.
I’d just left Wendy with a jovial. “See ya”, and turned my key in the door.

“Hi Jenny” mum called out. “There’s a letter for you in here.” I could tell from the tone of her voice that it wasn’t a normal letter; something in the tension in her voice relayed the importance of me seeing it straight away.

I felt my heartbeat rise, I have no idea why, but my psyche must have as I’d probably been in denial a bit over the last weeks as my future got a bit closer each day.

I dropped my bag by the stairs and walked almost warily into the kitchen peering round the door like a cat before entering. The buff envelope was on the kitchen counter. I could see the colourful Swiss Stamp on it from the door.

I looked over at mum — she was wearing one of those smiles that say, “You know what this is and I know you’re going to be bouncing off the walls or crying in a minute and I feel for you.”

“Well I guess you’d better open it, I’ll put the kettle on,” she volunteered with a sort of merry macabre hint in her voice.

I picked it up and walked to the kitchen table and sat down. Yes, there on the back next to the seal was the Clinic Logo. It was my final notice. My future had caught up to me.

I could feel a sort of prickly sensation as I pulled the tab and the contents spilled onto the table.

The cover letter was uppermost.
Dear Jennifer Holland
Please read the following carefully………….. and contact us if you have any questions.

I read through it quickly.

Several stapled bundles were included.
“What you need to take with you.”
“How to get from the Airport to the Clinic”
“Preparations before you leave home.”
“What to do if you can’t proceed with the operation.”
“Outcomes”
“Post op”

It totalled a pile of about 20 sheets.

There was also a brochure on the nursing home I’d be in after the op. It looked like a resort a bit back from Lake Leman on which Geneva sits.
Looking at the blurb it seemed I’d be in Hospital for three days then transferred to the Nursing Home. That is until the doc said I could go.

Four weeks from now I’d be in there. With it all behind me ( I hope).I pondered the way I’d be feeling as mum plonked the tea down.

“Come on then — spill.” She urged gently.

I looked at her and pushed the major part of the stuff over to her to scan. I was looking at the folder marked. “Preparations before you leave home.”
There was whole blurb about making sure you were as fit as possible and walking a mile or two in the weeks leading up to the op — stopping HRT — losing excess fat.

Basically all those things that speed up recovery.

Until it got down to a section about the day before you front up for surgery.
Like getting some stuff called Fleet and drinking it the night before.
“What’s fleet mum?” I asked — wondering if it was a dietary supplement.

Mum looked at me and had a sort of squinty grin on her face.

“What?” I frowned at her silly grin.

“Oh you’re going to love that.” She offered a little tit-bit.

“Come on, out with it.” I urged drumming my fingers on the table top then taking a sip of tea, to calm my rising state of nerves.

“Ah well, before I had you and Nigel, and I mean right before, when I was going into labour, I had to clean myself out in case of whatever — well in case the pressure made me,” she hesitated, “Well incontinent, bowel wise I suppose.”

I coloured up, “you mean it flushes out my bowels?” I wasn’t really concerned, but it was like I was going to have a baby or something, I was identifying with mum.

“Oh yes, it certainly does that.” She grinned and squeezed my arm with a little supportive gesture. “It’s not bad, but it is a little undignified. You end up sitting on the toilet for about 30 minutes as it shoots through you.”

She peered over my shoulder, yes; you don’t get to eat anything after that, so it’ll be last thing at night on Sunday. I suppose you’d better have your last proper meal on Sunday lunch.”

It was getting a bit adjacent. I sucked up a huge breath, I didn’t realise I’d been holding it. I was sweating a bit.

“Are you ok pet?” Mum put her hand on my forehead and then round my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. “Don’t worry darling, you’ll be fine. It just seems a bit hurdle at the moment and a sort of apex point in your life. I know how you feel — I think.
Knowing you’re going to be drinking Fleet is like an inclusive ceremony for women!”

I was just staring into space a bit — I think the adrenalin had kicked in and given me an endorphin high or something.

“Yeah I’m okay–it’s suddenly here isn’t it? And I’ve been sort of putting off thinking about it–” I looked back at the paperwork. “What’s an inflatable Doughnut?”

Mum agve a little giggle. “Something you sit on when you’re a bit sore down there.” She pointed at my nether regions. “You’re going to need it on the plane home I’d say.”

“Oh God, this really is going to be undignified isn’t it?” I grinned and blushed again.

“I’ve got to get some maxi-pads as well and loose panties. M-u-u-u-m…. H-E-L-P. This is like all those nightmares about being naked in front of the school rolled into one.”

Mum looked at me with a sort of sympathetic grimace. “You’re going to be walking like John Wayne after three days in the saddle as well. So I think you’d better resign yourself to being totally out of service and just be grateful you’re in Switzerland where no one knows you.”

“Can I have a sugar sack to put over my head like John Merrick?”

“Who?”

“Elephant Man. That was his name.”

Mum shook her head and laughed. “By New Year it’ll all be behind you and you’ll wonder what the fuss was about. Off you go and get changed, I’ll put these away for you and I’ll sort out a little grip bag and start getting this stuff together. Then you won’t have to worry your pretty little head over it.” She patted my bum towards the stairs and went back to the stove to stir whatever was making that lovely smell.

I was still upstairs when Dad came in. I was just about to head down when I heard him laughing uproariously. No doubt it was about the Fleet! And ALL those other things. Sheez what price being a girl.

When I did get downstairs, I slipped quietly into the kitchen and dad looked round and immediately came over and gave me a hug.
I love my Dad, I do!

“Well princess, it’s all about to happen isn’t it?”
“Well I for one will enjoy a nice Christmas Holiday in Switzerland. Even if I have to spend a bit of it nursing my beautiful daughter.” He squeezed my shoulder like mum had a few minutes previously, then helped himself to a whisky into which he dropped a solitary piece of ice. I grimaced and he chuckled. “I’m looking forward to some duty free as well! This stuff is so weak that one piece of ice and the flavour is all gone. Mmmm Kirsch and Schnapps… yummy.” He was dreaming as he stirred his drink with his finger then sucked off the precious liquid with relish.

Later on I sat on my bed and read the final two clipped together sets of sheets.
Outcomes.
It appeared that I could be anywhere from completely numb to being over sensitive to the point that I wouldn’t be able to sit down. But in reality most were somewhere in between and quite normal. I should be able to reach orgasm and maybe even be self lubricating.
I flushed a bit as I really hadn’t spent too much time thinking about my sexuality or the act itself. Though it did make me feel very sad that Paul wasn’t likely to be anywhere in the picture. It’d be fun finding out…. I flushed again. This is all a bit more than I’m prepared for at the moment.

Then I read about the dilators….. and flushed enough to set off a fire detector.

I determined I’d talk with Wendy about this — I wanted to know if normal girls had to do anything like that — somehow I doubted it and also I had to admit I’d never heard of it.
I hadn’t been the biggest male on the block when it came to wedding tackle and the brochures had mentioned that the more you had, the more vagina you’d end up with.
I hoped I had enough. But then it did say that skin could be ‘borrowed’ from the inside of the thigh, which sounded very uncomfortable. I pictured myself in a Texan hat and a six gun standing next to Big John Wayne — I had to giggle at that point as only the walk would be the same — nothing remotely like John Wayne was living in this house.
Mid you with a name like Marion, who’s to know?

“You’ve got to do WHAT?” Wendy’s eyes were like saucers, “It’s how big?”
I repeated the info from the brochure.” It’s 1 3/8” diameter and 10 inches long.
Is that big?” I asked naively .

“The very thought brings tears to my eyes.” Wendy said then adjusted it slightly. “Though I’m not sure whether it’s joy or envy.” She giggled, and then fell about laughing.
I felt a little short of 1.5 inches high. Barely enough to peer over the dilator in question …

“Does it vibrate?” She smirked and then grabbed her tummy and rolled around the bus shelter unable to control herself. “Can I borrow it sometimes if I’m lonely?” She shook to the roots of her being.

“I wish I hadn’t told you now.” I was a little antsy and annoyed at her lack of fellow feeling. Though I think it was making me less nervous about the whole thing. Girls don’t seem as hung up about their bodies as boys do.

The bus pulled up and she grabbed me round the waist, “Come on girlfriend let’s get to school and you can regale me later with your wonderful Christmas Story.” At which point she shut up about the whole thing and I began to relax — she really was a friend — she wasn’t going to ridicule me in front of the rest of our friends or even those we didn’t know.
“Can I tell Carol?”
“I suppose” I relented.
She giggled — “this is going to be so different!”

Later in the Lunch Hour we sat in a class room as it was throwing it down outside and I passed the brochure over to Carol — I gestured to keep it quiet with a single finger across my lips — she nodded.

Slowly as Wendy and I watched her, her eyes went rounder and rounder and her mouth went ‘O’ Shaped as she sat up straight like she’d been goosed.
She looked at me and then at Wendy with a ‘you have got to be kidding me’ look.
We both nodded and she started to smirk and flush up. Within a few moments she was almost unable to contain her glee and went out of the room — ostensibly for a pee, but we heard her down the passageway squealing — so we followed her out and tracked her by the squeals.
When we reached her, she had tears running down her face — “I have got to get me one of those.” — She pointed at the brochure. “I’d never need a boyfriend again.”
Then we all fell about as she asked, “Does it vibrate?”
By the time we returned to the classroom everyone was worried that there was a nitrous oxide leak somewhere.

Sometimes the silliest things break the tension or tickle the funny bone and this one was just one of those things.
They both clamoured to make me promise to show me the monster when I got it back from Switzerland.
“As long as you don’t want to see it in action.” I said and they both cracked up yet again.

“You look pleased with yourself,” mum said as I entered the kitchen.

“Nothing really.” I replied. Just Wendy and Carol went into hyterics when they heard about the size of the largest dilator.

“Oh I didn’t read that bit yet, how big IS it?” Mum queried.
“About ten inches long and nearly 1  ½ inches wide” I didn’t really want to tell her but I was trying to be nonchalant.
Mum spluttered, “That’ll be nice dear.” She looked at me and I looked at her and slowly the giggles started. We were laughing fit to bust when Dad came in.
We tried to compose ourselves but dad noticed we were nearly hiccupping and our eyes were streaming.
“Well whatever it is, can I hear it?” dad looked askance at me and gave mum a full eyeball.
“No dear, Girl Talk, not for tender ears such as yours.” Mum shook her head and went back to shelling peas. Dad looked back and forth between me and mum and then left to clean the shed. “Women.” I heard as he shut the door to the garden.

After reading through the whole lot of paperwork again, there didn’t seem to be anything that was or ought to be a problem so I started my homework I had to do some trigonometry so I grabbed a rule and some compasses.

I opened my book to a clean sheet . Suddenly I though “how big IS 10” x1.5” and drew two lines ten inches long 1 3/8” apart.
I joined the ends with an ellipse. — I pulled the ruler from the paper and looked at this little drawing. The colour drained from my face and I felt a bit sick.
That is one big dilator. I couldn’t believe this was supposed to go inside me….
How big were guys anyway? I’d never seen a guy with a hard on not a fully grown one anyway. Mine was pretty insignificant but then I never reached a male puberty so I didn’t expect it to be.
Nigel wasn’t around to ask so I was left to imagine and the more I imagined, the more I felt a bit ill.
I went and sought out mum.

“I’m a little worried mum, that dilator thing, is that big? I don’t know what is big and what isn’t and I just took a look at a ruler and I suddenly realise that’s a big piece of …. machinery to try to insert into me. Are guys that big?” I sounded like a six year old…

Mum looked at me and smiled gently. “If you ever see a man that big, I’d suggest you become his agent and push him into porn movies. No pet, they’re not normally that big. I guess 7 inches and 1  ¼ across is pretty much it. — any bigger and it can get a bit uncomfortable unless you’re used to it.
There’s a lot of difference between 1  ¼ and 1 3/8 as well.

I felt a bit of relief, I was wondering what I was letting myself in for and when I thought of the words ‘letting myself in for’ — I almost squeaked.
Maybe it was going to be ok — I thought Wendy and Carol had gone a bit overboard then a dastardly idea struck me.

It was Saturday and I met up with Wendy and Carol to go shopping — well window shopping anyway. I casually mentioned when we were walking through a department store that I’d spoken with mum about the ‘you know what’.

“She said that 10 x 1.5 was about normal for a fully gown man and that up to the age of about 16 or 17 they were a lot smaller. I saw a look of panic on Wendy’s face and a look of horror on Carol’s. Mum said dad is a lot bigger than that.” I kept my face straight, which was a miracle
Carol staggered sideways into a rack of clothing which nearly upturned itself. And Wendy’s face had gone a bit chalky.
“What’s up with you two?” I asked innocently.

“Nuh nuh nothing”, Carol looked really odd. Her face had gone a bit blotchy and she was looking like she’d swallowed her tongue. Wendy wasn’t much better.

“Perhaps that’ll teach you for frightening me the other day.” I sniggered.

They chased me through so many stores, that we had to backtrack to see the new stuff we’d missed.

I did find a long and warm looking felted woollen skirt for when I was in Switzerland outside and unable to wear pants (after the op). Pants wouldn’t look good with the amount of underwear and bandages I was going to be wearing in the nether regions and apparently I’d be quite swollen too — so pants are out.

I thought a dirndl might be quite the thing, but the corset looked a bit constrictive. Plus I’d have to wait til I got onto the continent.

When I got home mum said that Nigel had rung and asked if he could bring his girlfriend for Christmas Dinner as her folks were going to be away. He’d forgotten we were going to be away as well.
“I reckon we need to buy him a wall chart with time lines on it that he can fill in. Like the ones they use for annual holidays in workplaces.” I ventured.
“He’d cover it in footy fixtures and forget what the calendar was for in the first place.” Mum was trying not to sound cynical, but it came out like an indictment of teen men. I could see she wasn’t happy about it but there wasn’t anything I could say.

I showed mum the skirt and she reckoned it was really warm looking — “I thought I’d check it out and wear it to the flicks at the weekend.”I said holding it in front of me. Then I thought about Paul and the colour drained out of my day.
Mum saw my expression. “Someone walk over your grave?”
“I was just thinking about wearing it to the cinema at the weekend and it reminded me of Paul.” My lip was starting to curl a bit so I took a deep breath.

Mum looked at me, “Still getting flashes eh?”

I nodded, looking a bit glum.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t consider going out with him again after we get back? We’ve still got a couple of months before we go to Oz.” Mum looked at me for a reaction.

I didn’t dare commit my voice so I just shook my head and tried not to let the tears squeeze out from my eyes.

“Ok, off you go and get washed up for tea, Dad’ll be home in a minute.” Letting me off the hook.

I sat on my bed as my head went into a spin — should I or shouldn’t I?
I knew the answer; I wanted to — I really wanted to, but I knew that to do so would be the end of it all. It would all end in pain. He would find out and I would be left with nothing but guilt and shame.

I really needed to speak to Julie, but it had nothing to do with the transition side of things.

Suddenly I realised that I shouldn’t really be sad, I had found a really nice guy who really liked me and we’d had a really nice few weeks and that was all it was about — I was only 15 and I wasn’t going to die of old age.

Perhaps I would see him after my op — just so we could part as friends and not hate each other.

I wanted to ring him straight away but knew that would be foolish as it would leave us both where we were before. I’d speak to him tomorrow after school at the coffee shop.

I went down looking almost normal and hugged Daddy as he came through the door. “Hello Daddy, how’re doing?” I smiled up at the man who is being my rock — the only man in my life — at least for a while.

“Hello precious, that’s a nice welcome.” and his arm went round me and clutched me to him as he kissed my forehead and returned my smile.

I’ll survive.