My name is David, and I am a woman.

It's just nine words or eleven syllables or twenty four letters and two punctuation marks. It takes less than ten seconds to say…and it's a statement that changed my life.

Many will be familiar with the vignette entitled 'A night at the club.' It is a tiny piece of a life. As stated in 'Rent' there are 525,600 minutes in a year. From the moment I stepped out onto the dance floor until we closed out the night was approximately 340 minutes, or just short of six hours.

It is such an insignificant period of time when compared with a year, let alone when compared with a life, and yet it was likely the most significant moment in my life up to that point.

Let me rephrase that: Life is a collection of insignificant moments of significance.

I'm not a wordsmith. I am a painter. At least I considered myself a painter. I painted my way through high school, and threw away a scholarship because I wouldn't leave my room for painting. Before I lost my place in the dorms I completed fifty-four full sized paintings and a couple of hundred postcard sized ones.

None of which sold.

I guess my style just didn't seem to touch people.

My paintings are filled with what I see: I paint parks and busy streets. I paint old warehouses and empty vistas. In all of my paintings, I add that little bit of fantasy: an elf peeking out from behind a tree, a unicorn's shadow on the water, a dragon passing in front of the moon.

Apparently the pseudo realism didn't appeal to a wide audience.

In every one of my paintings there was a woman in a simple dress. She had flaming red hair. That you could always see. Sometimes, when she was closer to the canvas you could tell she had these intense green eyes. It might have been from the colors of her makeup, but they seemed to scream at you until you paid attention. Yes, I studied makeup in my attempts to create more realistic images, not that I really knew how to apply it at that point. I just knew what it should look like.

Her smile invited you to get to know her.

And she was the reason every one of my girlfriends left me.

Not that I ever actually had a girlfriend in anything more than the hoping sense.

I tried to use my paintings as sort of an icebreaker, you know, look at the poor tortured artist, eking out a living on the harsh streets of LA. Two problems with that: painting pictures of elves and fairies and unicorns doesn't fit with the tortured artist persona, and I didn't live in LA.

Well, I would show the paintings to them, they'd light up at the unicorns, but then they'd see her. With her in every painting that I did, there was no way to miss her. They'd friend-zone me, and that would be that. No dates, no kissing, nada.

Before we go on, let me explain something. I wasn't trying to get a girlfriend to fill some sexual need or anything like that. I was looking for a girlfriend for validation. You know how it is; people seem to be more real when they're in a relationship, an intimate relationship. I wanted that reality.

The problem is that anytime they saw that woman in my painting, they assumed that I already had a girlfriend, one that I was pining over, and they weren't going to be 'the rebound girlfriend.'

In a way, they were right. I'd somehow created an image of myself as a woman and injected it into all of my paintings. My therapist told me he thought that was probably my subconscious mind trying to tell me something.

Personally, it seems more like a self portrait provided in every painting. Of course we can both be right.

At the time of my fateful night on the town I was twenty four, and I'd recently finished a degree in architecture. If I couldn't be the artist I wanted, then at least I could eat. And there is art to be found in buildings, especially those that are uniquely made.

That and I still added myself and a fantasy creature or two in my perspective drawings. I even designed a building that looked like a sleeping dragon when seen from the correct angle.

I was also lying to my doctor about my age.

You see, an eighteen-year old with delayed puberty is an oddity, sure, but not quite something that is of serious concern.

A twenty-four year old with delayed puberty is a lot more troubling.

For a reason that will I'm sure be obvious to everyone, but was a mystery to me at the time, I didn't want them to prescribe male hormones to me. I knew, in the back of my mind, that for me to be a functioning member of society, read sexually active, I needed to go through puberty. But I didn't want all of the changes associated with being a male.

I thought that made me androgynous. I thought that it was ok to stay that way.

So, about once a year, I would change doctors, tell them I didn't remember who my previous doctor was, and fill out a new patient information form with updated dates on everything.

My doctors would x-ray my bones as part of diagnosis. One good thing about delayed puberty is that my bones, at the very least, suggested I was much younger than my twenty-four years.

My body kept growing, at a slower pace than others of my age, so while I was short, I wasn't miniscule. The most recent doctor that I'd been to weighed me in at 121 lbs and measured me as 5'6" tall. It was time for a change in more than just my medical history.

The morning after the club I awoke with a start. I sat up on the couch, bleary eyed, and ran my fingers through my hair. I was having a dream about being naked in the club. Only I had breasts and no penis. When I first realized it, I felt a surge of joy flow through me…then I realized that there were other people there. James approached me, pinning me to the wall. I knew what was going to happen next, and it terrified me. That was when I woke up.

Looking around my apartment, I thought for a moment that I'd dreamt up the whole thing. Even though I had red hair and green eyes, there is no way that I could possibly look like the woman in my paintings. Their cloth covered shapes mocked me from every available surface. I felt the sorrow at this thought, and realized that even if my entire night at the club was a dream, it was a prophetic one.

I got up and took a shower, dried off, and then walked naked into my room.

I was looking for something to wear in my closet when I heard a sound behind me. Letting out a quiet eek of surprise, I covered myself as best I could and turned to see what, or who, was behind me.

Collette was just climbing out from beneath my mountainous comforter, her hair sticking out in all directions from a night of sleep without removing any of her hair products.

"Hey, David. Sleep well?"

My entire body was red with embarrassment, and I just nodded.

"We all agreed you were a girl last night, so no need to cover up on my account."

I dropped the arm from around my chest, but only to move it to my crotch.

"But, I have…"

"A penis? So, these days there are lots of girls with deformities like that."

I gave her a weak smile and went to get on some underwear. I wore bikini briefs at the time, and quickly slipped a pair on. For those of you who haven't seen them, they are a lot like a woman's bikini cut panty, even lacking the iconic 'pocket' in the front. With all the elastic, and the type of material used, they fit me better than any other underwear I'd tried. They also just felt right to me.

"You wear panties?"

"No, they're bikini briefs."

"Look like panties to me, and where..?" She said this last while looking at my crotch.

"Huh? Oh, I'm not really very big. Not that it worries me much."

"You sure you're not a girl…physically I mean?"

I dropped my shorts enough for her to see and then quickly pulled them back up.

"You know, you look like a really tall eleven-year old when you're naked."

I just blushed and continued to get dressed. I had to make an appearance at the office today, so I went with a nice charcoal suit with a cream colored dress shirt. It had a narrow lapel and I left it unbuttoned at the bottom. I wore the shirt with a narrow tie that had a descending pattern of triangles. It was in a gold tone.

Then I opened my closet and I heard a double gasp from my bed. Apparently Angie had woken up as well. Angie and Collette lived on the other side of the city, and I offered them a place to sleep. Neither of them had to work today.

"You have more shoes than I do, girl." She said.

I smiled at that. I had a nice pair of men's dress shoes in a charcoal that I'd purchased for the suit, and I slipped them on after grabbing a pair of thin socks.

"Those look almost like knee-highs," Collette said again.

"Are you both going to keep commenting about the feminine nature of my wardrobe or just accept that you were both right?"

"Nah," Angie said, "this is about you kicking yourself to the couch. We wouldn't have minded you being up here with us."

I blushed again.

"Nothing sexual, you goof. Angie and I love men, and from your reaction to James last night you do too."

I hopped up on the bed between them. "So, I could just lie down here between the two of you?"

They laughed at me and pushed me out of bed.

"You missed your chance last night, hon."

I laughed and climbed out of the bed.

"Well, enjoy yourselves," I said.

My day at the office was un-noteworthy; I worked up a new proposal for the Bryant building. This would be the fifth time I'd submitted a proposal to them. I had to come up with a new perspective drawing every time, including a mock up floor-plan.

Nothing that I created so far had interested them at all for the piece of property that they were looking at.

I was distracted and just doodling on the large sheet for the perspective view. While I drew, I thought about the events of the night before. A tree seemed to sprout out of nowhere. Then another. I drew a reflective window behind the tree that doubled the perspective. A walk meandering through the trees. A couple of hills to bound the walk. Then it seemed that the entrance needed to be an overhand, loosely evoking a castle gate.

I continued with the theme of a modern castle as I continued. Around the building, I made a hedge moat, filled with flowers instead of spikes. The penultimate floor I put in a complete wrap around reflective window. The top floor evoked crenellations by having evenly spaced vertical windows. But it wasn't the top floor. I added a tower to the left hand side of the drawing and then a central keep that extended above the front wall.

I was just putting on the finishing touches when Gary, my boss, rushed in.

"Good, I see you're ready."

"Ready? For what?"

"Bryant is here to see our next offering. They've said this is the last one that they'll wait for. After this they're going with Hartman, Weiss, and Studebaker."

Before I could even begin to voice a protest he grabbed the poster board and ran out of the room. I followed after him trying to get him to hear that I'd never meant for this to go before the Bryant Foods team, but it was too late.

He walked into the conference room like a force of nature. A feeling I'd assumed was awe filled me as he took charge of the room and brought the attention of the suits to my work.

It was more than that, and for the first time in the years since I'd started working here I allowed myself to really examine what I was feeling. I liked the way that he filled out his tailored slacks. I loved how broad his shoulders were, and the way his suit seemed to strain as he moved.

Somehow, even without the hormones to drive it, I realize that I'd been lusting after my boss. I blushed when he turned toward me and asked for me to answer the client's questions.

They didn't have that many questions.

"So, Miss Lowell, you think that this is what we need?" I smiled at him calling me 'Miss'. It was something that happened a lot, and something I would have been bothered by before today. Today I took it as a bit of validation to who I was.

"Frankly, at this point, Mr. Bryant, I don't give a damn what your company needs. I've drawn up five different buildings for you that for one reason or another you rejected. This one was too tall, that one was too short. They're not people, Mr. Bryant.

"If, after this, you feel the need to go to a sweatshop without any soul like Hartman, Weis, and Studebaker, then by all means, go there. I'm sure they'll be happy to give you another cookie-cutter, none-of-a-kind, mortar and steel eyesore like the current building that you're trying to get out of.

"This building is a castle. If you can't see that I weep for you."

And then I walked out.

I was crying in my office, trying my best to keep it together long enough to get all of my personal effects together so I'd be ready when Gary came to fire me. I knew how important this client was, and I'd likely just pissed them off. I had no idea what got into me, but I'd lit into them.

No, that's not right. I knew exactly what got into me. They were the face of every gallery and private buyer that had rejected my art for the last eight years. I'd taken my frustration at being an artist without a voice out on them.

"David, what's wrong with you?" Gary said from the doorway.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to say that. It just came out. I'll understand if you want me to leave."

"Leave? That's one of the most beautiful buildings I've ever seen. And then you're eye adjusts and you see it sitting there, a fantasy castle in the middle of the skyline."

I looked up at him, my tears drying on my face. "What?"

"They love it. Apparently Mr. Bryant played a lot of D&D in high school. He loves the idea of being a modern-day king. Go and fix…I mean wash your face and we'll talk to them together."

"Fix what, Gary?"

"Sorry, but you really…never mind. I wouldn't want you to think I was harassing you."

"Were you going to tell me to fix my makeup?"

"I…um…well…" He was bright red as he stammered out an almost response.

"Would there be a problem if I were wearing makeup?"

"You're a guy."

"Really?" I said with a slight smirk. "And you would tell any 'guy' to go fix his makeup?"

"Well, you're male."

"I'm going to a doctor's appointment this afternoon. We can discuss this when I get back. I'll meet you in the conference room."

I spent the next hour or so describing the vision I had for the building. It was only when we were shaking hands and walking out of the conference room that I realized that there was something missing from the picture: there was no girl with flaming red hair and green eyes anywhere to be seen. It would seem she'd finally escaped the canvas and was walking around the real world.

<3  <3  <3
I sat nervously in the waiting room at the clinic where I normally saw my specialist. I had a piece of paper that I'd written my real medical history on, and I was prepared to provide it as soon as I was called back.

A nurse came and got me, weighed, measured and cuffed me. Then I was sitting waiting in the exam room.

It was only after I'd been sitting there for a couple of minutes that I realized I'd crossed my legs like a girl at the knee instead of resting an ankle on my knee like a guy. Unlike other times I'd noticed it I didn't adjust my posture, I just smiled.

Finally the doctor came in and I rose and took his offered hand.

"I'm glad you could squeeze me in today."

"It was nothing for my favorite patient. I wanted to see you soon anyway. What can I do for you today, David."

"Well, I hope you still consider me your favorite patient after what I have to tell you. These are the doctors I've been seeing previous to you over the past nine years."

"I don't understand."

"I'm not really eighteen. I'm twenty-four."

Doctor Ralstein sat down and stared at the paper in his hand. "Really…well…we need to get some additional tests run and we need to get you on hormones as soon as possible."

"Here's the thing…I'm a woman."

He looked at me for a moment, and then he just grinned at me, "you are, aren't you."

I just nodded with a grin of my own.

"Well, I can't just take your word for it, of course, but we can start you on estrogen for now. I have your blood work for last time, but I want to get some for today so I can adjust dosages as necessary. Now, if you don't mind young lady, I'll get a nurse in here and we can get you a shot."

The shot hurt, but I felt a glow fill me when it was over. I knew it wasn't the hormones, but more a sort of self reinforcement that this is what I wanted.

They took my blood and scheduled me for an MRI the following week. I had a spring in my step and a sway in my walk as I left his office.

<3  <3  <3
The office was in an out of the way corner of an office park. The door tinkled when I went through it and I looked up. There were a number of bells hung in front of the door by a bit of rough twine. The front desk was empty.

The room that I'd entered had two soft looking leather chairs. The smell of leather filled the room and seemed to have a soothing effect on me. There was a door off to the side of the desk, and that was it. I waited for a moment or two and then went and sank into one of the chairs.

I fidgeted a bit before I found a comfortable position and simply sat there for a minute or two before the door opened. Two women walked out and hugged briefly before the younger said, "We'll schedule an appointment for you for the same time next week. I think we're making wonderful progress. Consider seeing a speech therapist as well. You'll feel a lot better about how you interact with people if you do."

"I'll try," said the older woman. She had a husky voice. I took a second look and realized that it wasn't a woman at all, but a man. Immediately I became embarrassed at my thought. Physically I was also a man. I wasn't one to judge on this.

The older woman left and I rose.

"May I help you?"

"Dr. Ralstein sent me."

"You're David Klein?"

"That's me," I said with a grin.

"I'm Hilary Emmersen. Would you come on back with me?"

We spoke for a while and I told her everything that I knew, suspected, or dreamed. It included everything from the club the night before, my interaction with the girls this morning, and even a description of my closet.

"So, David, are you trying to convince me or yourself that you're a girl."

"Um…what?"

"Obviously you've got some deep seated issued with your masculinity, but who are you trying to convince here. Me? Probably should have come in a dress then. I might have believed you then."

"No, Ms. Emmersen. I'm not here to convince anyone. I am a woman. At age twenty-four, I've been a legal adult for the past three years. I would appreciate you treating me like one. As for the other? I thought you'd like to hear the reason I was here. If that's not the case…" I said as I stood up to leave.

"My, you've got fire in you, haven't you?"

"My mother was Irish. I think it's the Shaw blood in me."

She smirked at me for a moment before she just began laughing.

"Harold was right; I think I'm going to like you."

We just smiled for a moment and then she outlined where we would be going from here. What did I sign myself up for?