"Beautiful, Jamie," the photographer calls to me as I turn my head and look off into the middle distance, giving the photographer a perfect view of the necklace and earrings I'm wearing- not to mention the exquisite white wedding dress! The dress is strapless, but doesn't show off too much cleavage, and hugs my curves beautifully. I have incredibly long fake nails- extending over an inch from my fingertip- attached to each digit and my make-up is applied flawlessly. My long blonde hair- which I haven't had seriously shortened in over two years- is tied into a tight updo, kept well away from my face and neck. Attached to my hairdo is a pure white veil that the photographer occasionally asks me to raise and lower over my face.

Underneath the dress- which is just one of ten I'm modelling today- is a set of ivory-white satin lingerie. A very tightly-laced overbust corset shapes my figure into the shape required by the dress's manufacturers. A tight satin thong covers my flattened groin (flattened by a latex vagina panty, of course) and thigh-high white silk stockings are attached to the corset by four garters each. On my feet I'm wearing white leather pumps with a 5" heel. I can only hope that on my wedding day, I look and feel as beautiful as I do at this moment.

It's been so long- over three weeks- since my last modelling job, and even longer since my last bridal shoot, but it all comes back to me in an instant the second I step in front of the camera. Over the last eight months my life has changed to the point where I can barely recognise the person I was in 2012.

Physically, I've hardly changed- I've not had any further surgeries since August and am still about 11 months away from 'the big one'. I'm still taking the hormones but there's only so much you can be feminised until you're unrecognisable as having been born male, and I passed that point a long time ago.

My university studies have taken over my life somewhat, but for the better- I'm loving the work I'm doing, even if it is slightly harder than I expected (though I'm currently averaging a 2:2, which is something). I still do work experience for Joshua, but only one day a week, and I still study ballet, but in a much different way than previously. When Krystie and Mary discovered that Charlotte and I were receiving private tuition from former prima ballerina Ellen Heywood, they both demanded at least one lesson with her. So, for Christmas, Charlotte and I clubbed together to buy them both a year's worth of lessons with Ellen, with the implication that the present may become a regular thing, despite the expense (even with the mate's rates Ellen gives us, it's still £150 per student per lesson). So, our little intimate lessons, in which I often opened up to my two closest confidantes, have become girls' nights, only in the daytime and wearing pointe shoes. No, not even girls' nights- it's almost like being back in school, only this time at least I'm one of the popular kids.

Fortunately, I still have Paul. Since August we've grown closer than ever, both physically and emotionally. Whilst we do sometimes indulge in unprotected sex it is very rare- I still haven't finished off the box of tampons I bought in August- but we spend virtually every night (and day) together nowadays. I frequently find myself accompanying him to his shoots, where I try to occupy my time with studying but inevitably find myself roped into donning his latest bizarre costume and going in front of the camera. I've not had to wear anything quite as extreme as the fish costume but I've wound up doing ballet in a black satin corset, thong, stockings and opera gloves and in another shoot, through the magic of make-up, transformed into a living porcelain doll, amongst many other different scenarios. Sometimes the costumes make me long for the relative simplicity of a skirt suit & stilettos! And yes, we've done more 'private' photo and video shoots- our new favourite is one in which I strip from a skin-tight satin leotard and stockings down to a sparkly c-string and nipple pasties and do a burlesque performance for Paul. The great thing about a 'costume' like that is that it's so small you can take it just about anywhere, so sometimes when we're staying in a hotel Paul gets an encore- especially so when we're on holiday! In November we had a weekend in Greece and last month we enjoyed a week in New York- already we're looking at brochures for the summer!

I'm forever thankful for Paul being in my life, as Charlotte has gradually drifted further out of it. Sure, we still live together, sure, we're still BFFs and sure, we're still each other's closest confidante, but ever since Charlotte's media career took off it's like I don't even know the girl any more.

Her Strictly appearance sent her through the stratosphere and into the mainstream. She finished 3rd overall on the show, making the grand final but not quite winning the popular vote. Yes, there were some stories in the tabloids about how she's had extensive dance training which supposedly gave her an unfair advantage, but as Charlotte will happily tell you, there's only so much you can learn from ballet that'll help you in ballroom of Latin dancing. Following the conclusion of the show Charlotte got herself a place on the live tour, meaning she was effectively gone from September through to the end of February, and following that she found herself inundated with TV work, mostly hosting reality-style shows on ITV2 and BBC3. Of course, she took the work, even if sometimes it was just to keep Spencer & Hall happy (and believe me, with the money Charlotte's making for them, they are VERY happy with her right now). The media are calling Charlotte 'the new Kelly Brook'. God only knows what that would make me...

It's not like Charlotte has completely abandoned her friends, though- as mentioned earlier, we all get together at least once a week for ballet, and Charlotte's parties for us (and our boyfriends) are as extravagant as ever. It shouldn't surprise you to learn that the theme for my 21st birthday was 'Strictly Come Dancing'. In the run-up to the party I was dreading it- no girl wants to be upstaged on her special day. Fortunately, Charlotte was willing to let me have the limelight for one night only (and even do a few dances with Matt, her professional partner on the show) and had some utterly gorgeous dresses made for me to wear at the party. Charlotte insisted that each of us had to do one ballroom and one Latin dance, and I drew 'tango' and 'salsa'. My tango dress was unbelievable- a deep, crimson red, almost completely backless and the skirt split up both sides. Sometimes, when I'm feeling low, I take it out of my wardrobe and just stare at it for a while and remember just how incredibly sexy I looked and felt when I was fully made-up and tangoing around the floor in it. My salsa dress was equally fun- essentially a leotard with massive amounts of fringing on it that bounced and swished every time I took a step (and in the salsa, there are a LOT of steps). I will confess I did get a little diva-ish before the party and insisted on a third dress being made, a proper full ballroom dress to waltz in, but what girl doesn't want to have one truly beautiful ball gown to swish around her as she's swept around the floor? Even my parents joined in in the group waltz at the end of the party, leading to a very awkward moment when dad found himself dancing with me!

For the boys' parties, the theme of us girls wearing 'service uniforms' has continued. A while ago us girls just decided to drop any pretense and admit that we all just loved dressing up- not that the boys complained, of course! In February Keith was treated to a gaggle of cheerleaders in crop tops, miniskirts and platform trainers celebrating his every step (with Charlotte at the top of the human pyramid, of course) and in March Paul celebrated his 24th by being waited on hand and foot by a bevy of French Maids in ridiculously frilly dresses- though obviously, only I was allowed to tend to him personally! For Charlotte's 22nd in May she's determined to have the 'Black Swan' themed party she couldn't have for my 20th, and has even had Ellen choreograph a routine for the four of us to perform on the day- another reason we all practise ballet together. Only Charlotte could take such a generous Christmas present and make it all about her...

"That's perfect, think we've got all we need," the director announces to my intense relief as I step out from in front of the camera and head to my changing room.

"Here comes the bride..." Paul sings mockingly as I enter the room and immediately turn my back to him to let him unzip the slinky white dress.

"Hilarious," I reply sarcastically. "It is good to be back in front of the camera again."

"I'll try not to take that personally," Paul snorts as I grimace internally.

"You know what I mean," I say, attempting to sound sympathetic. "Sometimes I'm so wrapped up with stuff I actually forget that I am a model."

"Really?" Paul asks. "I'd have thought every time you looked in the mirror you'd be reminded that you were the most beautiful girl in the world." I grin a big, goofy grin at Paul's compliment and lean toward him to give him a long, lingering kiss as he unties my corset, freeing my breasts for him to playfully caress despite my attempts to get changed back into my street clothes.

"Sometimes I guess I need to hear that," I say with a sigh as I pull on the black bra, thong and tights I was wearing when I arrived at the studio before retrieving the red playsuit I put on this morning.

In an effort to make myself feel more comfortable wearing bifurcated items of clothing like trousers or shorts, I've been forcing myself to wear them more often, which has resulted in me experimenting with my look more and more, and at this present time I've developed a real fondness for playsuits. Despite some people describing them as 'adult rompers'- which I guess isn't entirely untrue- they are very cute and can be very sexy, especially when paired with sheer tights like mine is today. Most of the time I go for playsuits that are cut very high in the leg, like a leotard (sometimes with lace fringing to give me a little more modesty), but today's is longer, like a pair of hot pants, and has long see-through lacy sleeves in black to contrast the hot red of the rest of the garment. Naturally, I complete my look with a pair of 5" heeled ankle booties before untying my hair and grabbing my handbag, signifying to my boyfriend that I'm ready to go.

"As I said," Paul says, wrapping a loving arm around my waist, "the most beautiful girl in the world." I grin and kiss him one more time as we walk out of the studio arm in arm.

We arrive back at my place just after 3pm and find the house empty, not that this is too surprising- Keith's back at university, studying harder than ever for his final semester, and Charlotte's media career keeps her out of the house, sometimes for days on end. Grinning, I happy slip off my booties in favour of a pair of comfy Ugg boots and crash on the couch, wrapping Paul's arms around me as fritter away the evening watching TV and eating a takeaway dinner. We're both in bed at 10pm- both of us have work tomorrow- where we eagerly undress each other before ending the day in the most orgasmic way possible...

My alarm clock wakes us both up at 7:45, and after removing Paul's hands from my breasts and buttocks, I run through my normal morning routine almost subconsciously before getting dressed for the day. Friday's the day I work for Joshua so I pick out a suitable skirt suit (with me only working one day a week, Joshua decided to drop casual attire on Fridays) after donning my vagina panty, bra, thong & blouse for the day and tying my hair into a sophisticated ponytail. This suit is a plain dark blue one with a knee-length pencil skirt, but I decide to jazz it up a little with a pair of dark fishnet tights- which, obviously, excites Paul greatly! After pulling on a pair of matching 5" heel stilettos and grabbing a matching handbag, I head down to the driveway to be driven to work by Paul. It's always weird leaving the house empty like this- especially given how famous Charlotte's become- but I guess this is all part of growing up.

"Reckon I should accept Joshua's inevitable job offer today?" Paul jokes as we pull out of the driveway- after, of course, he wastes several seconds playing with my tights!

"I'd love to know what his reaction would be if you did," I reply with a giggle. "He'd probably shove a contract down your throat or something." Suddenly, Paul adopts a serious facial expression and glances sideways at me.

"Do you still enjoy working for Joshua?" He asks, catching me off-guard. "Both as a model and, well, as this." I open my mouth to respond, but pause just a little too long as I contemplate my answer.

"Sure," I say, failing to convince even myself. "I guess."

"For as long as I've known you it's like you live your life at light speed," Paul says with concern in his voice. "I dunno if it's because you live with Charlotte, but you're always bouncing between one project and another. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I feel I never see you- obviously, um, I'd want to see you more, but-" I interrupt Paul as he becomes more and more flustered.

"I get what you're saying," I say, calming him down. And I really do. It's not even since I met him that things have gone berserk- it's ever since I set off down the road to becoming a woman. I've gone along with every new experience that I never stopped to ask myself if this is truly what I wanted, and I can pinpoint the exact second it started- when I accepted Charlotte's offer to become Jamie-Lee full-time.

I've replayed that moment a million times in my head and wondered what would have happened if I'd said no to Charlotte. She'd have begged and pleaded, for sure, but if I'd stuck to my guns, gone back to being James? I'd have been a weedy, effeminate boy. Sure, a weedy, effeminate boy with a colossal bank balance, but without a life, without any direction. It's no wonder I feel my life is passing by so quickly- before I met Charlotte it wasn't moving at all. Before that fateful week two years ago I'd never even considered becoming female- now it's like I can't conceive of anything else. I'd been so sheltered from what my father would undoubtedly have called 'freakish and deviant behaviour' that I never considered that it was what was missing from my life.

And yet, it feels like I'm running away. Running away from my old life? Maybe. With the exception of my parents it's like my old pre-Charlotte life never happened. I never had many friends at school, and those I did know I don't have any contact with any more. It's taken me so long to realise that I'm not playing at being Jamie-Lee. For 19 years beforehand, I was playing at being James. Playing at being a boy. I've got a lot of catching up to do.

"I've wasted 19 years already," I explain. "Gotta make up time where I can!" Much to my relief, Paul beams a wide, happy grin and gives my fishnet-covered thigh a quick squeeze.

"I-" Paul begins, before stammering. "-Um, think we're almost here." My heart skips a beat as he says that sentence. We've been going out for well over a year, had sex countless hundreds of times, met each other's parents, practically lived with each other for the past few weeks, and yet we've yet to say those three little words to each other. Do I love Paul? In truth, I don't know. I could say the words- even though I haven't been on stage or in front of a camera in months, I am still an actress, I have had classes and everything- but I don't know if I'd mean them.

And yet, two years ago, before Jamie-Lee was even born, I said them to Keith without a moment's hesitation. And I DID mean it then.

"Yep, we're almost here," I whisper as Paul pulls us into the street containing Joshua's office. I elegantly swing my legs out of the car and get out, subconsciously straightening my skirt and jacket as I lead Paul into the posh office building.

"Jamie!" Joshua yells with a blindingly bright grin as I enter the building. "Paul Gould! Come and take photos for me!" I exchange a quick, knowing glance with Paul as he greets my boss.

"Okay," my boyfriend says with a cheeky grin. "When do I start?" Joshua is taken aback slightly by Paul's forwardness.

"What?" He asks, keeping his trademark grin firmly attached to his face despite his confusion. "Aha," Joshua chuckles, cottoning onto the game. "Very clever! Wondered if you'd ever say yes just to see what I'd do! Now kiss your girlfriend and get out of here!"

"Sure thing, boss," Paul cheekily replies, giving me a lingering kiss on the lips before departing for his own job.

"That was his idea," I explain as I put my handbag in my drawer and switch on my computer.

"I don't doubt it!" Joshua smirks as he returns to his own office, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Do I love Paul? Maybe, maybe not. Is my life better because it has him in it? Undoubtedly.

Work goes as it always has- mostly catching up on the work Joshua's not been able to get done over the course of the week- and by the time 5pm rolls around I'm still awake and energetic enough to have a wide grin on my face as I leave the office, which is definitely a good thing as whilst Friday daytime has become my regular work day, Friday nights have become my regular girls' nights out!

"Hey Jay!" Charlotte greets me with a quick hug as I return home (Keith's just gone back to university, so I always get extra affection from her when he's not here). "Loving the fishnets, gonna have to try that look one time! If, you know, I ever get a job."

"You hosting the latest super reality TV show ISN'T a job?" I tease as I quickly skip up the stairs to my room.

"Not when it's that much fun!" Charlotte yells after me, causing us both to giggle girlishly. I quickly strip off my suit and change into a t-shirt and denim miniskirt for dinner, but much to Charlotte's delight, I leave my fishnets on! After dinner, the two of us head up to her room to prepare for our night out! First comes our underwear- I swap my plain back bra & thong for a frivolously tiny lace G-string (the dress I have in mind has built-in 'support'), and exchange my fishnets for a pair of glossy tan-coloured tights. Charlotte, of course, pulls on a pair of flesh-coloured fishnets, 'inspired' by my choice of work legwear.

Next comes our hair and make-up. Charlotte's still wearing her hair short, which is ironic considering she only cut it back in 2011 to match my then-short hair for the switcheroo, but she liked it so much she kept the style whilst I grew my hair long! I spend time adding additional waves to my hair and tie it up into a loose updo, whilst Charlotte slicks her hair to give the illusion of extra length. We both paint our nails a dark, almost brownish shade of red, and then set about applying our make-up for the night. Fake tan, thick gel eyeliner and thick silver eye shadow go on first, followed by our longest fake eyelashes. Numerous different shades of lip liner and lipstick go on our mouths and numerous different perfumes cloud our bodies before we pick out our dresses for the night. Naturally, we both opt for tiny, slinky black dresses- Charlotte's has flimsy spaghetti straps holding it up whilst I opt for a halter neck with a very low back and a mesh front, through which you can see HUGE amounts of cleavage. We complete our looks with our poshest handbags, flashiest jewellery and a pair of platform stilettos- mine have a 6" heel, but Charlotte, ever the 'alpha female', opts for a gravity (and sense)-defying 7.5" pair. Shoes that I, of course, immediately make a mental note to buy, despite their £250 price tag!

Undoubtedly we'll both turn the heads of every straight man we pass tonight, and not just because of Charlotte's fame. We may both have boyfriends, and we may both be uninterested in any man who tries hitting on us (and there will be plenty who try), but we both want to be treated as goddesses, treated as the sexiest women to ever grace planet Earth with our presence.

The taxi picks us up just after 8:15pm and whisks us into London, where Krystie and Mary- both equally dolled up- are waiting for us. After getting a few selfies for our respective blogs/Instagram accounts, we tour various clubs around the city before Charlotte leads us to a particular club that's taken her interest at around 11pm. Of course, we jump the queue and are led straight into the club's VIP area by its simpering manager, who serves us our first round of drinks on the house.

"Cheers!" The four of us all simultaneously yell, clinking our glasses together.

"When are the guys getting here?" Mary asks, taking a sip of her expensive cocktail.

"Can we not go five seconds without talking about boys?" I ask with mock exasperation. "This is girls night, the guys are only here as eye and arm candy!"

"Perfectly put, Miss Burke," Charlotte compliments me, casting an eye out over the dancefloor beneath us.

"Thank you, Miss Hutchinson," I reply as I follow Charlotte's gaze. "Though you are keeping an eye out for Keith, right?"

"I've not seen him in five days," Charlotte responds. "I'm entitled to be, well, entitled."

"I haven't seen Dan since Wednesday," Mary chimes in, shooting daggers at me from her eyes.

"And I haven't seen Chris since Monday," Krystie states coldly. "So let's take a show of hands here- who's the only girl to have seen her boyfriend in the last 24 hours?" Sighing, I raise my hand.

"And who's the only girl complaining that we're talking about boys?" Krystie asks accusingly.

"Okay, okay," I concede. "Boys are great! Yay boys!" Satisfied with my 'concession', Krystie sits back in her chair and keeps sipping her drink.

"They will of course have stopped off at a pub on the way for a game of pool," Mary sighs.

"God, why DO boys do that?" Krystie sighs in agreement. "The four hottest women in the world right here, and they want to play with long, thin bits of wood."

"Not it!" I immediately yell, followed closely by Charlotte and Mary. It's kind-of an in-joke we've developed over the years as a response to Krystie's love of 'innuendo'. Krystie, for her part, simply rolls her eyes and relaxes back into her chair, resting her expensive 6" heels on the table in front of us.

"Just like my high school prom," Krystie complains. "Eight of us went together, 4 girls, 4 boys, you'd have thought 4 couples, right? Nope. 4 girls sitting together talking about what jerks the 4 boys were as said boys completely ignored us."

"God, tell me about it," Mary agrees. "I went to my prom with a date and left with three other single women. I dunno why schools think that 16 year olds can interact with the opposite sex."

"How about you, Jamie?" Krystie asks me with a smile. "Any horror stories from your prom?" I put my glass down and grimace slightly- fortunately, though, I won't have to lie to my friends about exactly why my prom experience would be different to theirs.

"I... never had a prom," I say truthfully. "Don't forget my parents kicked me out before the end of my GCSEs, prom was the last thing on my mind at that time." Krystie looks slightly worried, as if she touched a sensitive nerve.

"Charlotte?" Krystie asks tentatively.

"Never went to school after the age of fourteen," Charlotte sighs, "let alone had a prom. And I couldn't go with Keith to his, as his private school was boys only so, obviously, no need for a prom."

"That sucks," Mary says. "Every girl should have a prom! You know, where they can dress up in their best clothes, be treated like a princess and dance with the boy of their dreams..."

"You mean exactly like what we're doing tonight?" I interrupt with a smile, letting Krystie know her faux pas wasn't as bad as she'd feared.

"You know what I mean!" Mary retorts. "Wearing a big, swishy dress, getting driven to the venue in a fancy limousine..."

"So... Like my 21st?" I ask sarcastically.

"Again, you. Know. What. I. Mean," Mary retorts, her normally soft Belfast accent growing thicker and thicker with every agitated word. "Krys, we should definitely throw these two a prom! A proper one!"

"Hell yeah," Krystie agrees with a grin, "I can get in on that! You two have thrown us so many parties, it's time we did something for you for a change!"

"...It would be nice," Charlotte concedes, looking expectantly in my direction.

"Who am I to say no to a party?" I say, prompting cheers from my three friends.

"It's settled then!" Mary orders. "Clear your diaries for tomorrow, 'cause we're going prom shopping!" The four of us cheers and clink our glasses again, but before I'm able to take a sip of my drink I'm out of my chair and greeting my boyfriend at the entrance to the VIP area with a long kiss.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" Krystie sighs with over-exaggerated frustration. "Twelve hours, and he's the first to get here!?" I simply stick my tongue out at my friend and lead my boyfriend by the hand down to the dancefloor, where we stay for the next several hours...

We don't arrive home until 2am, where I sigh with relief as I shed my shoes, jewellery and clothes and climb into bed, snuggling up next to Paul. We're both so exhausted we fall asleep almost immediately, but are awake again just before 8am for one of our traditional Saturday morning sex marathons!

Ninety minutes later, after the two of us have shared virtually all of our most intimate areas with each other, we roll out of bed and immediately pull on our swimming gear before heading down to Charlotte's pool. Being April, it's just warm enough to enjoy a refreshing dip, and that's what we intend to do! Paul, of course, is wearing his sexy navy blue shorts, whilst I opt for a cleavage-baring hot pink one-piece swimsuit (bikinis still being a bad idea when swimming with Paul). We're barely in the pool fifteen minutes before Charlotte saunters over the side of the pool and crouches down to admonish us.

"You know," Charlotte sighs at myself and Paul as we fool around in the water, "last night we did kinda agree to plan a big, fancy prom?"

"I thought Krystie and Mary said they were going to plan that?" I retort, threatening to splash a very indignant Charlotte with some pool water.

"They did," Charlotte concedes, "but they also said 'shopping trip', remember?" I roll my eyes and get out of the pool.

"I'll be down in twenty," I say to Charlotte as I lead Paul back to my room, his hand firmly clamped around my left buttock.

"And for god's sake Paul," Charlotte admonishes, "stop being so damned squeamish and let the girl wear a bikini once in a while. Not that that one-piece isn't damned sexy, of course." Paul and I giggle as we head back up to my room.

"I still can't believe your operation's over twelve months away," Paul sighs. "You've been living full-time for what, two years? Even got all those legal documents through from the government."

"The gender recognition certificate? Yeah," I clarify. "I know it sucks, but he is the single best surgeon money can buy and he's booked out years in advance. I was lucky Charlotte was able to get me in as early as 2014." I step into my shower, turn the water on and quickly drop to my knees in front of Paul. "Speaking of sucking..."

After I've 'cleaned Paul's penis', I drop my swimsuit and thoroughly clean my entire body before making myself back up, repainting my nails a pale pink colour and picking out my shopping outfit. I'm not spending the night with Paul so I can thankfully forego a vagina panty, but I do pull on a plain white bra & thong set, followed by a pair of nude tights, a basic stripy top and a loose knee-length black skirt. I was planning on wearing another playsuit today, but going from swimsuit to playsuit is a bit too 'suit'-y for one day. I put on my favourite jewellery, spray on some sweet-smelling perfume and slip my feet into a pair of 4" heels before grabbing my handbag and walking down the stairs to an increasingly-impatient Charlotte.

"This is your idea of 'twenty'?" Charlotte sighs, tapping her 5" stiletto-heeled feet. I merely shrug and overtly slip my hand into Paul's back pocket.

"How many of the other guys will be coming on this shopping trip?" Paul asks hesitantly.

"None," Charlotte smugly replies. "It'll just be you and four girls!"

"See you tomorrow babe," Paul says, giving me a rushed kiss on the lips before leaving the house and quickly driving off.

"BOY!" Charlotte and I yell after Paul as he leaves. Not that I can blame him- the last time we conned him into coming shopping with us he was forced to watch us try on dresses for over four hours with only his iPhone for company. I think he used up the phone's entire battery life in that one trip!

Much to Charlotte's delight, I chauffeur the two of us into central London in my Clio, Charlotte doing her utmost to be the most irritating 'backseat driver' in human history by pointing out every single potential hazard in the road- and she doesn't even have a driving licence herself!

We meet up with Krystie and Mary for lunch- deliberately choosing a restaurant with mostly male waiters just so we can see their reactions to serving four gorgeous blonde models! After eating we head to the nearest dress shop. Obviously, there's more to organising a prom than just a dress, but all four of us agreed last night that this would be the most important part!

"This is meant to be a HIGH SCHOOL prom, remember," Mary commands as we browse through racks of beautiful gowns. "No bespoke pieces!" Charlotte sticks her tongue out at Mary as she picks out a strapless sapphire-coloured gown and holds it up against her body.

"I am absolutely NOT sticking to a high school girl's budget," Charlotte insists.

"Seconded," I say with a smirk as I hold an elegant pale emerald gown against my body. "Hmm... Maybe I should do for an elegant trouser suit instead?" Immediately, I'm bombarded by friendly jeers, which subside when I take my dress to the nearest changing room.

"You'll need a hand with that," Krystie observes, accompanying me to the booth and holding the dress whilst I strip to my bra and thong.

"You know," Krystie says as she holds out the dress for me to step into, "I've known you for two years and I feel like I hardly know anything about you before the day we met. I've only even met your parents once, at your 21st."

"There really isn't anything to know," I say, hoping to divert the topic of conversation. "This dress really isn't going to work with a bra..."

"So take it off then," Krystie says with a sly smirk. "I promise I won't look..."

"Last year, after you did those topless photos, you promised you WOULD," I remind my friend.

"Okay then, maybe I will," Krystie says, her smirk still firmly attached to her face. "I don't get why you're always so sensitive about your breasts." I roll my eyes and unclip my bra, showing Krystie the faint pink blemishes on the side of my chest.

"These," I say, gently running a finger over my scars. "I was... Not a fast developer."

"Oh my god," Krystie whispers, gently touching the scar with my permission. "You've got implants? When did you get them done?" I have to hastily think- back when I used prosthetics Krystie saw what she thought was bare skin on more than one occasion.

"Just before I met you for the first time," I lie. "Charlotte paid for them in exchange for me..." I think quickly. "...Moving in with her and keeping her company whilst Keith was at university."

"Seems an odd exchange, tits for companionship," Krystie muses as I remove my bra completely, nervously allowing my breasts to hang free. "And you do know it means you'll never be able to model for Spencer & Hall, right? They have a strict 'no-cosmetic surgery' policy, after all..."

"Yeah, that's why I'm studying at uni," I say, pulling the dress on and allowing Krystie to fasten it shut. "I'll never get into Spencer & Hall or Models One, so it just makes sense to, you know, have other options available." With the dress fastened, I turn around and pose for Krystie, one hand on my hip.

"Gorgeous," Krystie beams. I pull my shoes back on and step out of the kiosk where Charlotte and Mary greet me with awed gasps.

"The first contender for the prom queen," Krystie announces as I do a turn for my friends, "Miss Jamie-Lee Burke!"

"The first contender for the prom queen's DRESS," I correct Krystie. "First of many!" Giggling, Krystie and I return to the changing room where we strip off the dress. The four of us spend the entire afternoon trying on beautiful dresses without spending a single penny on any of them! At around 6pm, we arrive back at Charlotte's house where, after a light dinner prepared by Keith, Charlotte and I grab our laptops and begin looking at sites for prom supplies.

"We are having the prom here, I take it?" Charlotte asks as she types on her computer.

"If we do that then you and Jamie won't have the experience of the limo ride," Mary says. "What are you googling for?" Charlotte blushes slightly.

"Don't tell me," Krystie sighs, "'Charlotte Hutchinson looks fresh in fishnets on night out in London'?" Charlotte giggles with embarrassment as she turns the laptop around to face us.

"Huh, you never told me you worked for the Daily Mail online," I joke as Charlotte turns her laptop to face herself again.

"Like you said," Krystie says, "keeping my options open!"

Naturally, we don't get anything done on our 'girls' night in', instead spending our time gossiping about work, boys and clothes! Krystie and Mary depart shortly after 10pm and I head to bed very quickly afterward, closely followed by Charlotte & Keith. Unsurprisingly, I'm woken up at 7:45am by Charlotte knocking on my door.

"Nope!" I yell, turning my head back into my pillow.

"You know I'll never stop asking," Charlotte yells through my door. "Have fun at your parents'."

"I will," I assure my BFF as I snuggle underneath the covers again. Inevitably, however, I'm forced to rise from my bed at 8:45 by my alarm. After showering, applying my make-up and taking my pills, I redo my nails a deep red colour and pick out my outfit for the day. I'm not spending the night with Paul tonight but I am meeting him so I pull on a vagina panty anyway, followed by a lacy black bra & thong set. I pull on a translucent pair of black tights and a similar but shorter A-line skirt to yesterday's, before finishing up with a tight red top and a pair of 3" heels. Naturally, by the time I'm ready, Paul's already waiting downstairs, so I grab my handbag and greet him with a long kiss before elegantly lowering myself into the passenger seat of his car.

We talk about rubbish on the drive to my parents', arriving just before 11am and being greeted, as always, with a big hug from my mum and a small, awkward hug from my dad.

"Jamie!" Mum beams brightly as she hugs me. "You're looking so great!"

"Thanks!" I say with a big grin. Despite being estranged from my parents for well over three years, I find myself relying on them more and more for emotional support, even though I'm closer than ever to Charlotte and my other friends. And to Paul...

"Morning Mr. Travis," Paul says with a smile as he shakes dad's hand. "Now that I've finally remembered your name, can I please have permission to date your daughter?" Dad snorts sarcastically as we let ourselves into the front room.

"Bit late for that now," dad sighs, sitting down heavily in his favourite chair. "How's work been lately?"

"Slow," I confess. "Joshua's been using me sparingly since I started uni. I'm not complaining, I need the time to study, I just, you know, kinda wish I had more time to do actual work."

"Modelling work, right?" Dad asks with an air of condescension in his voice.

"PROPER work, yes," I say firmly. Dad simply smiles at my defiance.

"...And that's just spoilt me telling your dad that you were trying on wedding dresses all day Thursday," Paul jokes, trying but failing to get a rise out of my father.

"Because you were modelling them, right?" Dad asks, clearly terrified that Paul might have proposed, and that I might have accepted!

"Right," I clarify. "And there's a difference between 'modelling' and 'trying on'. 'Modelling' is what I do as a profession, 'trying on' is what I was doing all day yesterday." This time, dad's eyes do go wide.

"Prom dresses," I clarify to my father's obvious relief. "We figured out the other day that neither Charlotte nor I had a high school prom, so we're setting out to rectify that."

"Making up for nineteen years one fancy dress event at a time," Paul quips, earing himself a soft jab in the ribs from my elbow. Much to my surprise, dad actually looks guilty at this development.

"Even though I probably wouldn't have agreed to buy a dress for you," dad says, "I do regret the fact that you never got to attend a prom at school. Even if it is an American thing we neither need nor want in our schools."

"Go UKIP!" Paul states, earning himself an evil gaze from dad.

"If I could go back in time and change one thing, we'd never have kicked you out," dad confesses. "Even though I doubt I'll ever be fully comfortable with your... Choices, you are undoubtedly a successful and independent woman, and we're both very proud of you. I just wish I could take some of the credit for it."

"Of course you can," I say softly, shocked at the normally gruff man opening up. "You're my dad, and you always will be. I love you, dad."

"...I... I love you, Jamie," dad mutters. For once, Paul doesn't inject one of his 'witty' comments into the moment, instead just wrapping an arm around me and holding me tight.

"Did I hear someone say they were shopping for prom dresses?" Mum asks as she enters the room with our drinks, making all three of us laugh happily.

The normally-slightly awkward Sunday lunch passes smoothly, mum constantly asking about the prom- and, of course, my upcoming ballet performance- and for once, Paul and I aren't eager to get away, trying to find excuses to stay a little longer. It's almost 8:30pm when we do depart- Paul having to get home early for work tomorrow and me having to get home early for ballet tomorrow morning- and as I leave, dad pulls me into probably the tenderest hug he's ever given me. No words are exchanged, but it's clear that, at long last, he has finally accepted me as his daughter.

I have a contented smile plastered to my face for the whole of the drive home, something Paul can't help but notice.

"Is it my imagination or did that go infinitely smoother than usual?" He asks.

"Mmm," I tiredly mumble in agreement. "Thank you."

"For what?" Paul asks confusedly.

"For everything," I answer. "For being you, for being my boyfriend... I'm so glad Charlotte set us up."

"...I'm glad too," Paul says with a happy smile on his face. "I will confess, I never thought I could be in a relationship with a girl like you... You know what I mean, no offence... But I really have enjoyed every minute of it. I... I think I love you, Jamie." My heart begins to race and my whole body shakes at Paul's unexpected declaration.

"I... I think I love you too," I whisper hoarsely.

After we arrive home we spend at least ten minutes sat in the car just kissing, embracing each other, not wanting to pull apart from each other's company. Eventually, we're forced to part ways, but not before one final, extra-long kiss!

As I enter my home and kick off my shoes, I hear the noise of the television coming from the lounge. Smiling, I enter the lounge and sidle up next to Charlotte on the sofa, surprising her with a long, friendly hug.

"Whoa!" Charlotte shouts, surprised by the hug. "What's this for?"

"Being the best BFF ever," I say happily, squeezing Charlotte tighter despite her squirming. "And setting me up with the best boyfriend ever." Charlotte sighs and allows me to get the hug out of my system.

"Lucky Keith's gone back to uni so he didn't have to hear you say that," Charlotte jokes as I release her and snuggle down on my sofa for the night.

I eventually crawl into bed just after 10:30pm, but not before texting Paul a long text message filled with Xs!

My alarm wakes me up at 8am from the most restful sleep I've had in a long time. After my normal morning routine (including a clean vagina panty), I apply a light layer of make-up, followed by my usual ballet uniform of a pair of pink seamed tights and a snug black tank leotard. After tying my ballet slippers to my feet, I throw a plain t-shirt dress over my head and grab my pointe shoes before heading to our mini-studio, where Charlotte is all ready and waiting, doing stretches in her own uniform.

"Ellen doesn't get here for another 20 minutes," I giggle at my BFF. "You really are taking this seriously, aren't you?"

"You know how much I've always loved ballet," Charlotte says, dropping into a perfect split. "I want this performance on my birthday to be beyond perfect." Smiling, I drop into a split alongside Charlotte and do some stretches of my own.

Five minutes later, Krystie and Mary arrive at our house, wearing street clothes but toting brim-filled dance bags with them.

"Jamie, can I use your hair straighteners?" Krystie asks as she crosses the threshold into our house.

"Hi Krys!" I say sarcastically, causing the model to roll her eyes. "And yes you can, though you'll need to wait for them to warm up." I escort Krystie to my room, where she immediately strips down to her underwear and pulls her own leotard & tights from her dance bag.

"Turn around for god's sake," Krystie orders as she unclips her bra.

"After Saturday? Really?" I ask, staring fixedly at my friend, who simply rolls her eyes and strips fully naked before quickly pulling on her dance gear.

"I think my leo's starting to wear out," Krystie complains as she picks at a loose seam on one of the leg holes.

"We'll get a new one when we're out shopping today," I say, handing Krystie my warming ceramic hair straighteners. It doesn't take long for her to turn her naturally-curly, flowing locks arrow straight before tying them back into a severe ballerina's bun. I'm always amazed by how different Krystie, and for that matter, I look when we're in 'ballet mode' as opposed to normal mode. With our severe hair and lack of our usual eye make-up and scarlet lipstick, we almost look like entirely different girls. After allowing Krystie to tie my hair into a bun (she does it far better than I can myself) we head back to the studio, where Charlotte and Mary await us, both looking as different to normal as Krystie and I look.

Ellen arrives within five minutes, and after rolling the leg holes on our leotards higher using a trick Krystie taught us (it make our legs look longer, and therefore better), we begin our 90-minute lesson. For the last half of the lesson, we all don our pointe shoes and practice tutus and demonstrate our solo performances for our upcoming recital/birthday party. Naturally, we all pull off the complicated routines flawlessly, much to Ellen's pride.

After Ellen leaves, the four of us remain in the studio, dressed in our uniforms, to continue with an 'unofficial' lesson. When Krystie had her first lesson with Ellen, she mentioned to the former prima ballerina that she'd always wanted to be a professional dance teacher (having assisted with teaching ballet since she was 13), so with Ellen's blessing, she's been giving the other three of us additional tutelage after our regular lessons. It's always a bit weird taking instruction from Krystie, as a) she's the youngest out of the four of us, and b) she's also by far the least serious out of the four of us, but she clearly knows what she's talking about when it comes to ballet, and she also finds ways to make the lessons fun!

...Especially as today she orders Charlotte to retrieve the costumes she originally had made for my 20th birthday party (which was originally going to be Black Swan-themed) so that we can practise in them! We've all had both 'black swan' and 'white swan' costumes made, and today we're wearing the 'white swan' version, which consists of pristine white tights, a laced-in white tutu and a gorgeous feathery white headpiece. We dance around in our costumes, occasionally stopping to goof off and have fun as well as taking a few photos for our instagrams/blogs, until almost 12:30pm, when we reluctantly change out of our costumes and into our street clothes for yet more shopping! Krystie and Mary obviously put back on the dresses they wore when they arrived at our house, whilst I opt for a tight grey long-sleeved top and a short black pencil skirt (along with thin tights and a pair of heels, of course). Charlotte, naturally, is wearing a really short grey dress and higher heels than any of us. As we're running short on time, we only apply a light layer of make-up. Krystie and Mary untie their hair from their buns, letting their long locks hang free, but I leave mine tied up, much to the other girls' delight!

"Seems a shame to waste such a well-tied bun," I explain as I sit down alongside Charlotte in the back seat of Mary's car. Naturally, Charlotte can't help but play with it throughout the entire journey!

Before we begin our day's shopping expedition, we stop off at a nearby coffee shop for a drink- and that's the decision that causes my entire life to turn upside down and inside out.

"Oh shit," I whisper quietly as the four of us enter the small shop. Charlotte, alarmed at my uncharacteristic outburst, immediately turns to me.

"What's wrong?" She asks, genuine concern in her voice.

"We- we need to go, we need to find another coffee shop, fast," I say, my heart racing and my hands shaking.

"What is it? What's up?" Charlotte asks, but before I can answer, we're intercepted by one of the shop's employees.

"Hey, are you Charlotte Hutchinson?" The tall man asks, prompting Charlotte to adopt her 'celebrity face' for him.

"Yep, that's me," she says with a smile. "If you have a pen I could sign a napkin for you if you'd like?"

"That'd be great," the man says. "My girlfriend thinks you're- oh my god," the man suddenly looks in my direction and, much to Charlotte's undoubted chagrin, completely disregards her. I brace myself as the man inspects my face. No, no, no... I think to myself.

"James Travis?" The man asks as I close my eyes and desperately try not to cry. "James Travis? Ha! I always knew you were a little faggot, I didn't realise it was this serious!" Simultaneously, my three friends gasp- but fortunately, not at the mention of my former name.

"I beg your pardon!?" Mary barks angrily.

"How dare you speak to her like that!" Charlotte yells in the man's face. "Get me your manager now!" By now, much to my increasing horror, everyone in the coffee shop has stopped what they're doing and are looking in our direction.

"'Her'!?" The man asks incredulously. "That isn't a 'her', that's a 'him'! Lift up 'her' skirt if you don't believe me!"

"MANAGER! NOW!" Charlotte yells defensively as the man simply laughs in our faces. By now, the only thing keeping me from collapsing in a pile on the floor is Krystie holding me upright.

"Whatever," the man says dismissively. "I'm not going to need this job when the press find out from me that Charlotte Hutchinson's been hanging around with a transvestite!" With that the man leaves, stopping to laugh directly in my face as he does.

"I- I think we should go home," Charlotte says quietly, aiding Krystie in leading me outside. As we enter fresh air, however, the stress of the situation finally hits me fully and I immediately double over, vomiting all over the pavement in the least dignified manner imaginable. After throwing up two more times, Mary rushes back into the coffee shop to get me a drink of water and a napkin to clean myself up, before leading us back to her car.

The car ride home is conducted in deathly silence but in my head a million conversations are taking place at once, and none of them end well. I'd never intended to keep Krystie and Mary in the dark forever, but I'd hoped to have at least been able to wait until after I'd had 'the' operation before making the revelation.

When we arrive back home, we sombrely sit down in the living room and remain in silence for several minutes.

"Is-" Krystie begins soberly, "is what he said- is it true?" Blinking tears out of my eyes, I hesitantly nod, causing Krystie to sit back in disbelief.

"I- I can't believe it," my friend whispers. "All this time, you've been a boy?"

"She WAS a boy," Charlotte explains angrily. "She IS a girl."

"Because of course YOU knew," Krystie says, anger creeping into her voice. "Do... Do you have, have a- do you have a penis?" Now crying openly, I nod again. I look up at my friend, but she is simply sat there, shaking her head in a state of shock.

"I- I can't believe this," Krystie says quietly. "This can't be real. We've- we've been friends for years, and you've been lying to me all this time?" I take a moment to compose myself before answering the woman I feel I betrayed.

"I never meant to lie to you," I explain. "I am a girl. Inside, I'm a girl. Legally, I'm a girl, and I have the paperwork to prove it. Being a boy... That's in the past. That's where I want to leave it." We remain in silence for the next 30 seconds before Mary stands up and walks over to me.

"Then as far as I'm concerned you are indeed a girl," she says, pulling me off the sofa and giving me a long hug, which Charlotte quickly joins in. "And a beautiful girl, too. And most importantly of all... You ARE my friend, regardless of what you were in the past."

"Thank you," I whisper into Mary's shoulder, tears still freely flowing from my eyes.

"Then I guess..." Krystie says hesitantly, "you're my friend too." I break away from the group hug and give Krystie a long hug, all of her own.

"I'm sorry I lied," I whisper in her ear.

"Are you kidding?" Krystie asks. "You didn't lie. No BOY could dance en pointe nearly as well as you can!" I laugh at Krystie's joke, the first time I've smiled since the incident in the coffee shop, and it feels so good to finally be climbing out of this hell.

"So how many other people know?" Krystie asks, earning herself a stern stare from Charlotte. "What? I've just learned something new and unexpected about one of my best friends, sue me for being curious!"

"It's okay," I say, sitting down and calming my emotions. "Just Charlotte, my parents..."

"Yeah, I'd kinda hope they realised you were born a boy," Mary jokes, causing all four of us to giggle loudly.

"...Ellen, Joshua, Paul... That's about it, really," I finish answering.

"I still almost can't believe it," Krystie says, but with a smile. "I mean, earlier this morning you were wearing a skin-tight leotard and I still wouldn't have been able to tell that you had, well, different equipment to the three of us. Assuming you two aren't keeping something from me as well?" Charlotte and Mary shake their heads at the younger woman, Mary giving her a playful whack with a cushion.

"I wear a prosthetic," I explain, "That holds everything in and gives an outwardly female appearance."

"Can I see it?" Krystie asks. This time, Charlotte shoots more than a stern stare in her direction.

"No you CAN'T," my BFF says angrily. "Jamie's had enough invasions of her privacy today."

"Okay, I'm sorry," Krystie says with genuine apology in her voice. "God, I've been so selfish, worrying only about how I feel when you must be a wreck. Who was that guy anyway?"

"Someone I knew from school," I explain. "I didn't really have any friends so I kinda got 'adopted' by a rough crowd who'd keep me around just to pick on. That's part of the reason my parents kicked me out- they used me to stash away their pot, I got a police caution for possession, my parents kicked me out, I wasn't any use any more so they kicked me out too."

"That sucks," Mary says. "And with you really being a girl inside that must've been especially tough." I have to think for a second here- when I was at school I had no idea that I wanted to be female, but I promised Charlotte a long time ago that I'd keep the circumstances of the start of my 'journey' a secret, and that's a promise I don't intend to break.

"Yeah," I eventually say, too mentally exhausted to clarify any further. "I- I think I need to lie down for a second." It's only 2:30pm but in addition to being mentally exhausted I'm also physically knackered, all the adrenaline from the confrontation having long since drained from my body.

"I'll take you up to your room," Charlotte offers, taking my hand.

"No," Krystie says softly, "I'd like to help her." Realising that Krystie and I need some time along, Charlotte nods. I'm still so wobbly I have to take my heels off as I ascend the stairs to my room, and I collapse face-down on my bed the second I enter the room.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Krystie asks quietly, to which I nod in response. "You know I'm bisexual, right? I always... I've always been slightly attracted to you, as a woman." I smirk and roll over on my bed to face the young woman.

"I'm flattered," I say, "but I'm purely heterosexual."

"Hetero as in, only attracted to boys, right?" Krystie asks cautiously.

"That is how you'd define a heterosexual girl," I clarify. "Besides which, we both have boyfriends... It'd just get awkward." Krystie giggles.

"I hope you don't mind me asking all these questions," she says, sitting down on the edge of my bed. "It's just... I don't know, really. As I said downstairs, you're one of my best friends, I don't want that to stop being the case so I feel like I need to know, you know?"

"I understand, I really get it," I say, soothing Krystie's obvious tension.

"What... What do you really want to do now, more than anything?" Krystie asks. I close my eyes and think, and only one thing springs to mind.

"I just want to have a 100% girly day," I say. "I want to pull on a onesie and crash in front of the TV. I want to have a Sex and the City marathon with my best friends. I want to paint each other's nails, style each other's hair and forget that I was ever, even for a second, male."

"Then grab your onesie and let's get downstairs and do that!" Krystie says with a smile. I sit up and hug my friend, sniffling a little as more tears threaten to make their way out of my eyes. Before too long, I've changed into my favourite onesie- a light grey rabbit one with big paws for feet and a hood with long floppy ears- and Krystie's changed into a bright yellow one I've loaned her for the day.

"Change of plans!" Krystie announces as she descends the stairs into the living room. "Shopping's cancelled, we're having a onesie party and a DVD marathon instead!" Normally, Charlotte would take great offence at being ordered around like this, especially in her own home, but after she casts a glance in my direct and sees that this is exactly what I want- no, this is exactly what I NEED right now- she immediately acquiesces.

"Onesie party!" Charlotte yells happily, giving me a quick hug before dragging Mary off to her room with her. Naturally, when they return, they're both wearing onesies similar to Krystie's and my own. We spend the next seven hours exactly the way I'd wanted- gossiping about nonsense, playing with each other's hair (my bun quickly becomes a set of fun braids) and nails, watching Sex and the City and completely forgetting about the nightmare from earlier in the day.

I settle down for bed at about 10pm (Krystie and Mary having left half an hour earlier) - I've planned to get a lot of studying done tomorrow- but before I can get down to sleep Charlotte enters my room carrying her iPad, and I can tell from the expression on her face that she doesn't have good news.

"Jamie," Charlotte says shakily. "You should see this." Charlotte hands me her tablet, and my stomach immediately sinks as I see the headline.

'The supermodel and the crossdresser- is Charlotte Hutchinson's best friend really a MAN?' The headline reads. I sigh and try to keep myself from crying or throwing up again- especially as the article than goes on to name me multiple times throughout, both by my birth name and my name as it legally is now.

"I've already had a call from Spencer & Hall," Charlotte explains. "They want to see you tomorrow morning as well." I nod as Charlotte moves to leave the room.

I barely sleep that night. Any good feelings I earned from my 'girly day' are quickly erased by the stress of my 'status' suddenly becoming not only public knowledge but public interest. For the first time in a very long while, I begin to wonder whether or not the 'journey' was even worth it...

I'm awakened just before 8am by Charlotte knocking on my door.

"Hey Jay," Charlotte says with a comforting smile. "Spencer & Hall want to see us at 10am, so we'd better get ready early. Make sure you're wearing something smart." With that, Charlotte departs to let me get ready- a far cry from the early days of my 'journey' when she'd pick out my outfit for me and do everything except dress me herself. After running through my morning routine, pulling on a lacy bra and thong, applying my poshest make-up, fixing my nails and dousing myself in an absolute cloud of my most feminine perfumes, I pick out my outfit for the day and make sure it's as feminine as possible. Eschewing tights in favour of a suspender belt and black back-seamed stockings, I pick out a pure white blouse that shows off just a hint of cleavage. A tight above-the-knee black pencil skirt follows, followed by my favourite matching peplum jacket. I slip my feet into a pair of 4.5" pointed-toe stilettos, before putting on my favourite jewellery- including the necklace my parents gave me for Christmas 2011- grabbing my handbag and heading downstairs to where Charlotte is waiting for me.

"Gorgeous. Woman," she says with a smile. "What lipstick is that?" I smile at Charlotte's compliment- whenever she asks me what I'm wearing, even if it's just the cosmetics, I know I've won her approval.

"It's actually two different shades," I explain. "I'll tell you in the car."

"I booked a taxi for us," Charlotte explains, taking my car keys from me and placing them in a nearby drawer. "I figured you wouldn't want to drive, what with everything that's happened. And..." Charlotte pauses grimacing a little. "There are... Kinda... Some paparazzi outside." My heart sinks and I frown deeply at the revelation.

"Keep your head high, look straight ahead and don't stop or slow down," Charlotte explains, putting on her expensive designer sunglasses and prompting me to follow suit. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to, I can call Spencer & Hall and see if they'd be willing to Skype instead-"

"No," I say firmly. "I can't stay holed up in here forever. Besides, I'm all dressed up now. No point in wearing such beautiful clothing and not having anyone see it, right?" Charlotte grins widely and gives me a quick hug.

"Let's do this, bestie!" Charlotte grins widely, leading me out of her front door to where seemingly every photographer in London is waiting for us. To rapid-fire cries of 'Charlotte!' and even the odd 'Jamie!' we walk past the camera-wielding men and women and into our waiting taxi, speeding off without saying a word to the reporters.

Much to my- and even more astonishingly, to Charlotte's- surprise, when we arrive at Spencer & Hall's head office, Joshua is there waiting for us. I immediately head over to the dark-skinned gentleman and apologise profusely.

"I'm so, so sorry this happened," I say to my agent, desperately trying to make sure he sees how sorry I truly am that he got dragged into this mess. Much to my surprise, however, he stops me with one of his big, beaming smiles.

"Jamie!" He says, effortlessly silencing me. "What is there to be sorry about? We're here at Spencer and Hall! They're not your boss, they wouldn't call you in to give you a bollocking, would they?"

"...And, and you're not going to bollock me either?" I ask hesitantly, causing Joshua to roar a booming laugh that makes the usually-reserved Spencer & Hall staff stare disapprovingly.

"Why would I bollock you?" Joshua asks. "You're in the press! You're big news! Do you know how much work I can get you if we handle this right?" I smile at Joshua, not quite understanding what's happening.

My lack of understanding continues as the three of us are called into Charlotte's agent's office. I sit down elegantly in my chair, crossing my legs in the most feminine manner I know as the older gentleman addresses us.

"I'm sure the three of you have seen the headlines," the man explains. "It's important we handle the next stage very carefully." Joshua smiles at me as the man echoes his earlier words.

"Jamie- can I call you Jamie?" The man asks, as I nod in response. "I do have to ask first, and feel free to decline to answer, but it will make life very difficult for both ourselves and Charlotte if you do- are the rumours true? Were you born a man?"

"Yes," I say stoically. The man simply nods.

"I see," he says. "My team has accessed your blog, Instagram and YouTube accounts, and there is nothing on there that might indicate that this was the case. A lot of people will undoubtedly feel as though you deceived them."

"Jamie-Lee is a beautiful and talented woman," Joshua speaks up. "I wouldn't have signed her if I thought otherwise, regardless of the way she was born." Even though he didn't state as such in the original interview I had with him, I later found out that Joshua knew all along that I had been born male- it's not the sort of thing you can leave off a CV, after all- but had chosen to disregard it out of sensitivity toward me. Between Joshua- born in a very conservative part of Nigeria- and Mary- raised Irish Catholic- I'm constantly reminded just how loyal my friends are to me.

"Nonetheless," the agent continues, "a lie of omission is still technically a lie. We will issue a statement on Charlotte's behalf stating that the rumours are true. Jamie, do you have a gender recognition certificate?" I smile for the first time during the meeting.

"Yes," I say proudly. "Yes I do."

"Good," the man says. "The statement will read that whilst Charlotte's best friend and flat mate was originally born male, she is now, in the eyes of the law, female, and must be treated as such by the world's press. Jamie," the man continues in a softer voice, "I realise this must be difficult for you, but you have put yourself in this position by not being open from the start. I recommend- obviously, I can't force you to do this- I recommend you go onto your blog and YouTube account and explain the situation. Anything you can do to ease the situation will help Charlotte as well and make this whole thing blow over more quickly." I nod quietly at the man's instructions. For the next ten minutes the three of us are given instructions on how to act and behave over the coming three days. The statement put out by Spencer and Hall will simply read 'Charlotte has a friend who was once male but is now legally female, end of story' or words to that effect. In a way I'm almost disappointed- As tense as this has been, Joshua's words had me almost expecting to become a celebrity in my own right, not having to play second fiddle to Charlotte for once- but I'm beginning to think that that might be more hassle than it's worth!

"Did you notice," Charlotte says as we exit the meeting, "that he- my agent- hardly spoke to me at all during that meeting?" This causes both Joshua and myself to stop and think- but Charlotte's not wrong.

"Huh, that is weird," I agree as we continue to Joshua's car (he has tinted rear windows so has agreed to give us a lift home).

"Jamie is what the press want right now," Joshua explains. "They can't find any dirt on you so they'll take whatever they can get, and it's just unfortunate that they've decided to latch their claws onto Jamie." Charlotte nods- but I can tell that inside, she's unhappy, both about the interview and about gradually being eased further and further away from the centre of attention.

Sure enough, when we arrive home, the paparazzi are still there, only this time there are considerably more calls of 'Jamie' than there were previously. I quickly head up to my bedroom and change my suit and stockings for a comfy sweater dress and tights before heading down to the lounge, where Charlotte is already huddled up on the sofa in her own dress, watching TV.

"Charlie," I say softly, sensing my BFF's irritation, "I'm sorry that this happened. Sorry if this is causing you hassle."

"No, it's no hassle being dragged before your agent at the crack of dawn," Charlotte moans sarcastically.

"I mean it," I say, desperately trying to show Charlotte how contrite I am. "I feel like this is all my fault, like maybe your life would've been better if I'd never been in it." At this, Charlotte stands up and gives me a tight hug.

"There's no way my life would've been better without you," Charlotte says, into my shoulder. "Can I tell you a secret?" I nod expectantly as we both sit back down.

"I wasn't even planning on meeting you at all," Charlotte confesses. "After I got back from getting that doctor to testify against my father. I was going to have Ellen drop you home and then you- and your quarter of a million, obviously- would have been out of my life forever. But I'm glad I didn't. SO glad I didn't."

"What changed your mind?" I ask.

"Ellen, actually," Charlotte says. "She told me how much you actually seemed to enjoy the ballet lesson she gave you, which astonished me- I mean, as far as I knew, you were a boy, after all- and then I saw that dress you wore on that date with Keith, and those stockings... I thought that maybe, just maybe you'd actually like being a girl full-time. I'm so glad I was right."

"So am I," I confess. "I just wish... I wish I could do everything that's happening now at my own pace."

"Welcome to being famous!" Charlotte says with a smile. "You're public property now, you go and do whatever it is the public tells you to." I sigh as I know Charlotte's right. I grab my own iPad off the coffee table to check it- and unsurprisingly, I find over a hundred email notifications.

"Oh crap," I mumble. "Looks like I've gone viral." Taking a deep breath, I disregard the email notifications, instead logging straight into my blog to type the apology post as recommended by Spencer & Hall.

'Hi everyone,' I begin in my usual manner. 'By now many of you will have seen stories in the tabloid newspapers that cast doubt over, shall we say, my 'legitimacy'. Let me take this opportunity to say... The rumours are true. I WAS born male. But I'm not any more. I'm sorry if this causes any offence, I'm sorry I misled you, but the truth of the matter is that in my head, in my heart, I am female. I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive, and accept me. Love, Jamie-Lee.' I put the iPad back down on the coffee table, not even bothering to read the myriad emails waiting for me.

"Was that your blog post?" Charlotte asks, to which I nod in reply. "Piece of advice: people nowadays want their information handed to them. I'd recommend scrapping the blog and doing a video instead. Just, you know, a bit of advice from your BFF the TV star."

"I'll think about it," I say, sprawling out on the sofa. "See how the blog goes first." Half an hour passes in which I try to rest and focus on the TV, but to absolutely no avail. My iPad's email notification pings at me over and over again, and I know I won't be able to ignore it forever, so I bite the bullet and dive into the messages... And they're not good.

"Oh god," I say as I read the first email.

"What?" Charlotte asks, concerned. "What is it?"

"'Why don't you die, faggot'," I say, feeling more and more sick to my stomach with every word that comes out of my mouth. "That's just the first one. 'Get off the internet, you freak', 'I hope you get raped to death'. What kind of sick person writes stuff like that? I mean, how can anyone honestly think this sort of shit?" Seeing my anger and distress, Charlotte comes and sits next to me, giving me a big hug.

"I know it's hard," Charlotte says softly, "but you have to ignore them. God knows I have horrible stuff written about me all the time, I don't even read comments on my articles any more because I know what it'll say- 'fake bitch', 'airhead' and so on."

"Yeah, but you're not fake, a bitch or an airhead," I sigh.

"And you're not a freak!" Charlotte immediately shoots back. "Or a 'faggot'. And you most certainly don't deserve to be raped to death." I close my eyes and bury myself deeper into Charlotte's hug.

"How do I make this all stop?" I ask, barely suppressing tears.

"I told you," Charlotte answers, "make that video."

Thirty minutes later, I'm sat in my bedroom, where I record all of my YouTube videos, ready to put the next chapter of my vlog on my channel. Unlike my usual outfit, make-up or dancing posts, however, this one is going to be a lot more personal.

"Hi guys," I say into the camera, forcing a smile onto my face, no matter how briefly. "Those of you who follow my blog and who still buy tabloid newspapers may have seen some rumours lately saying- and I guess there's no other way to say this- that I was born a man. And as much as I hate it, those rumours are true." I pause a minute to wipe a stray tear from the corner of my eye before continuing. "I never meant to deceive any of you and I am so, so sorry that it all came out this way. I've been living full-time as a woman since long before I started this YouTube channel. In my head and my heart, I am nothing other than 100% female. Yes, there was a time when this was not the case. There was a time when I wasn't really sure what I was. But with the help of my friends- my best friend, Charlotte, in particular- I was able to take my first few steps down the path to being the person who deep down, I always wanted to be. I never mentioned being born male because that's something from the past, and that's where it deserves to stay. Some of you may choose to dislike this video or stop subscribing to me, and if that's the case I can't stop you. All I can do is ask you to forgive me if I have offended you in any way, because I am truly sorry. I'm not going to stop posting either here or on my blog, even if I lose all my subscribers. I just... I just want to be Jamie-Lee." Blinking back more tears, I click my webcam off and upload the video. I try to concentrate on my reading for my course as a way of distracting me from everything that's happening, but once again, the pings on my iPad eventually grow so deafening that I'm forced to acknowledge them. I brace myself as I open the first email... And am astonished by what I read.

'Jamie,' the comment begins. 'Don't let the internet lowlifes drag you down. Some people will be angry at you for feeling that you deceived them but that's their problem. If you say you're a woman, then as far as I'm concerned, you're a woman. You go girl!' I type a hasty 'thank you' underneath the comment before moving onto the next one.

'Damn,' the comment reads. 'This girl's more beautiful than me and she was born a man? Life's not fair...' I giggle at the light-hearted tone of the comment and type out yet another 'thank you' in reply.

For the next two hours, all I do is type out replies to the positive comments on my video- which quickly outnumber the negative comments. Any negative comments that come through are quickly reported as spam and/or get so many people attacking the commenter that I almost feel sorry for the troll. Within 2 hours, my video gets several thousand views- and I gain several hundred new subscribers!

I head downstairs at about 3:30pm to find Charlotte, Krystie and Mary (both of whom were working earlier today) waiting for me with a rapturous round of applause that has me bawling tears of joy as I am drawn into a tight group hug.

"Come and see," Charlotte says, leading me by the hand to where her laptop is set up on the coffee table. There, on the screen, is yet another headline.

''I just want to be Jamie-Lee': Charlotte Hutchinson's transsexual friend's tearful confession to the world melts hearts and defies prejudices.' I collapse onto the sofa, mentally and physically exhausted but finally, at long last, happy.

Krystie and Mary don't stick around long- only until 6pm- and with Charlotte pre-occupied with preparing for some TV filming she's doing tomorrow, when they leave I turn my attention to my phone to see if there are any missed calls. Naturally, there are several from Joshua and some voicemails from my parents checking to see how I am, but unsurprisingly, the vast majority of missed calls are from Paul. Smiling, I tap his name on my phone. It doesn't ring for long before he picks up.

"Hey you," I say with a broad grin on my face. "How does it feel to be going out with a bona fide celebrity now?" Charlotte shoots me a quick stare before playfully rolling her eyes.

"That's what I need to talk about," Paul says sternly, causing my facial expression to drop. "I've had a lot of people calling me, asking me about you." This doesn't surprise me- on my blog and YouTube I've hardly made it a secret that I was seeing Paul.

"We've talked about this, what would happen, what we would say," I reply solemnly.

"Yes," Paul says, "but it's not just the press. I've had my parents calling me asking if I was suddenly gay. Most of my friends think I'm some sort of weirdo or fetishist now. Earlier today one of them actually slipped a gay porn mag into my work bag."

"...And you didn't think to point out that it was one of them who had to buy it?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

"That's not the point," Paul says.

"Then what is the point?" I ask, suddenly deeply concerned for my relationship. Charlotte also stops what she's doing, sensing that something might be very, very wrong.

"The point is..." Paul says, "I'm not sure I want to be ridiculed everywhere I go as someone who exclusively fancies trannies."

"But that's obviously not the case!" I plead as feelings of nausea start to sweep over me. "You've only ever dated girls, me included, everyone knows that!"

"I know, and I know we had fun, Jamie, it's just," Paul takes a deep breath before continuing. "I think... I think it'd be best if we didn't see each other any more." By now I'm openly crying, and Charlotte is sat alongside me, squeezing my free hand supportively.

"Best for who?" I ask, my voice quivering with every word.

"I'm sorry, Jamie," Paul says, ending the call before I can say another word. I'm flabbergasted, my mouth hanging limply open in a state of pure shock- how can you go from 'I think I love you' to 'it'd be best if we didn't see each other any more' in less than 48 hours?

"Jamie..." Charlotte whispers softly, instinctively knowing what's happened. Unable to control myself any further, I break down in tears, blubbing uncontrollably into my BFF's shoulder.

"Mary," Charlotte says into my phone, having quickly dialled our friend's number, "pick up Krystie and get back here now." Within fifteen minutes, all my friends are back at our house and we're quickly back in our onesies, eating ice cream and trying futilely to mend my broken heart.

I don't climb into bed until 11pm, checking my phone one last time just in case Paul did call back (I also call my parents back to let them know I'm alright, break-up aside). To my surprise, however, the only missed call isn't from Paul- it's from, of all people, Keith. Despite the late hour, I dial his number, and he almost immediately picks up.

"Hi Keith," I say nervously. "Is- is now a good time?"

"No, it's okay, Jamie," he says over the line. "Or should I say 'James'?" I grimace- Keith reads every article printed about his girlfriend so obviously he would now know about me.

"Technically, and legally, it's Jamie-Lee," I correct Keith. "You have to understand, this is not how I wanted you to find out, I-"

"I know," Keith interrupts. "I subscribe to both your blog and your YouTube, remember?" I sigh- this conversation was always going to be more awkward than the others.

"I think I know where this is going," I say solemnly. "Knowing that I was born a man, you don't trust me being around Charlotte, so-"

"That's not it at all," Keith interrupts again, his voice warmer this time. "Your boyfriends, lack of girlfriends, and the fact that you did kind-of give me a blowjob within days of meeting me is enough for me to trust that you want suddenly start trying to steal Charlotte away from me." I smile at Keith's response, before being reminded that I am, once again, without a boyfriend.

"First off, it wasn't 'kind-of' a blowjob," I giggle. "And second... Paul dumped me."

"Oh no," Keith says with genuine concern in his voice. "Are you alright? I always knew that guy was a twat." I chuckle at Keith's casual dismissal of my ex-boyfriend.

"I'll be fine," I sigh. "It's the first time I've been on the receiving end of a dump but I'll get over it, as long as I've got my girls. Who I'll be eating ice cream with and watching Sex and the City, nothing more." Keith laughs at my joke, helping me feel more and more at ease.

"I can easily believe you've never been dumped before," Keith says, widening my smile with his compliment. "The reason I called you was to see whether or not you were alright," Keith finally reveals. "I know Charlie has times when she feels that the media are weighing her down, and this is your first time being hounded by them like she is, so if you ever need a friendly ear or a shoulder to cry on, I'm just a phone call away."

"Even during your finals?" I ask, remembering that I probably interrupted Keith from his own studies.

"Oh whatever, everything's coursework nowadays and I'm already guaranteed a 2:2," Keith explains, eliciting another laugh from me. "You take care of yourself, MISS Jamie-Lee Burke."

"I will, I-" I catch myself before accidentally saying 'I love you' to the man for whom I still harbour strong feeling. "I promise."

"See you soon," Keith says.

"You too," I say with a smile, ending the call. I put my phone back on my bedside table and stare briefly at the spot where, for several months, Paul would lay asleep after making love to me. I rub his 'spot' gently for a second before grabbing 'his' pillow and unceremoniously throwing it onto the floor.

"Keith's right," I say defiantly. "You ARE a twat." I move my own pillow into the centre of the bed and snuggle in for the night by myself.

I'm awakened by my mobile phone just after 7:30, but much to my surprise, it's a call rather than my alarm.

"Hello?" I say groggily into the phone.

"Jamie!" Joshua's eternally cheerful voice greets me. "Can you get to Waterloo for 10am?"

"Um, I guess," I say, blinking the tiredness out of my eyes. "What's up?"

"Philip Schofield and Holly Willoughby are!" Joshua near-shouts excitedly. "They want to interview you on This Morning!"

"Couldn't you have given me more notice?" I ask, getting out of bed and heading to my shower.

"They wanted you for tomorrow's show but BBC Breakfast want you on tomorrow so I convinced them to bump you forward," Joshua explains. "Strike while the iron's hot! You're the darling of the media now after that amazing video of yours, let's get you loads of fame and fortune whilst it's there for the taking!" I smile as I strip off my nightie and prepare for my morning routine.

"I'll be there," I say, much to Joshua's delight. "Do they want Charlotte as well?"

"Nope," Joshua says proudly. "Just my favourite model!"

"Your favourite CURRENT model," I correct my agent.

"My favourite ALL-TIME model!" Joshua booms happily. "Just don't tell Charlotte that!" I grin as Joshua hangs up, before the nerves begin to sink in- in just under four hours, I'll be live in front of millions of viewers. What would I say? What would I wear?

After finishing my morning routine and pulling on fresh make-up and underwear, I knock on Charlotte's door, waking her up and causing her obvious irritation.

"What is it?" She complains as she rubs the sleep from her eyes. "Couldn't you have put on something more than a bra and panties before coming in here?"

"That's what I need your help for," I say, dragging my BFF out of bed and along the landing to my bedroom. "I'm going to be interviewed on This Morning in just under 3 hours and I need to know what to wear!" Charlotte's jaw drops at the revelation.

"Oh. My. God!" She exclaims. "I didn't hear anything about this!"

"I only just found out myself from Joshua," I say as I throw open my wardrobe.

"This," Charlotte says confidently, pulling out a tight-fitting light grey top, "and this skirt," Charlotte continues, holding out a dark grey pleated miniskirt. "Translucent black tights, black boots. You'll look STUNNING."

"Thanks!" I say, taking the items from my BFF and giving her a quick hug before changing into the designer clothing. After earning Charlotte's approval, she gives me a crash course ahead of my first ever live television interview!

The taxi whisks me away to The London Studios on the South Bank, and I arrive just before 9:45am. I'm a bundle of nerves as the researcher greets me and tells me what will be expected of me during the interview.

"Phil and Holly will talk briefly about your life," the young woman explains. "They'll ask a few questions about growing up, when you first realised you wanted to be a woman, how you met Charlotte." This is good I'm being asked this in advance so I don't have to improvise on the spot in front of millions of viewers. "They'll also talk briefly about your resemblance to Charlotte, and some of the parties you've hosted recently- just so viewers can get an insight into the real Jamie-Lee."

"Okay," I say with a smile.

"Most importantly," the researcher says, "relax, remember to smile, and most of all, try to enjoy yourself!" I grin widely as I'm left alone with my thoughts. Before too long, however, I'm installed in the sofa on the set of the show, facing two people I've been watching on TV for as long as I can remember. Both Philip and Holly try to set my mind at ease before the interview begins, but once we're live on air they're both the professional on-screen faces the country has come to know and love, introducing me and beginning our chat.

The interview only lasts nine minutes but feels like an eternity as I'm probed about my past, my present and my hopes for the future- according to the official story I started cross-dressing aged sixteen (after being kicked out by my parents, something I don't mention), met Charlotte aged nineteen through a mutual love of ballet (apparently I always wanted to be a ballerina), started transitioning and ended up where I am today. All the pieces fit in really well and I remember my advice to smile and relax- and I do definitely enjoy my time in front of the camera. When the show cuts to commercial and I'm led off the stage, however, I'm a nervous wreck.

"You did brilliantly," the researcher assures me as I take a much-needed sip of water. "You were a complete natural in front of the camera and I could tell Phil and Holly really liked talking to you."

"Thanks," I sigh, trying to calm myself down. "How do people do this day in, day out?"

"You'll have to ask a presenter that, I'm just a researcher!" The young woman laughs and leaves me to my own devices. When I leave the studio- walking past several paparazzi, who I take the time to smile for- and jump in the taxi back home, I check my phone and an unsurprised to find that there's a missed call on my phone from my mum. I ring the number back and instantly smile as my mum answers her phone.

"Hi Jamie!" Mum says proudly. "I could've sworn I saw someone who looks almost exactly like you on the TV less than an hour ago, but that couldn't be the case as daughters call their parents before appearing on live TV, don't they?" I giggle at my mother's teasing.

"No, that was me," I confirm to my mother's delight. "I only got the call at 7:30 this morning, I barely had time to get dressed and get to the studios!"

"Then you'll have to come round so we can watch it when your father gets home!" Mum orders, making me giggle yet again.

"I wish I could," I say, "but I've been ordered to pack an overnight bag as I'm going to be on BBC Breakfast tomorrow, so I'm off to Manchester in a couple of hours!"

"Do you know which hotel you'll be staying in?" Mum asks, to my surprise.

"I think so," I answer. "Joshua's booked me a twin room in a premier inn."

"Twin room?" Mum asks rhetorically. "Good. I'm coming with you."

"Umm, that's really not necessary," I complain.

"Nonsense," mum counters. "You looked calm on screen but I know my daughter and I know you were a nervous wreck. You'll be even more of a nervous wreck first thing in the morning. When's your train?" I sigh, knowing I can't talk my mum out of the trip.

"Just after 3 from Euston," I say defeatedly.

"I'll see you then," mum confirms. Sure enough, when I arrive at Euston station with my overnight bag (containing about 4 different outfits!) in tow, mum's waiting for me there and greets me with a loving parental hug.

"I hope you've got everything you'll need," my mother fusses. "Clothes, toiletries, make-up?"

"Yes, mum," I moan like any other 21-year old girl with an overly protective parent. "You know, you really don't have to come with me, it's not the first time I've stayed somewhere overnight."

"Oh we'll be fine," mum insists. "It'll give me a chance to catch up with my celebrity daughter!" I smile as we board the train to the north of England and settle down into our seats.

"I'm HARDLY a celebrity," I sigh. "I'm just... in the right place at the right time."

"Well you deserve all the fame and fortune you're getting," mum states. "God knows you haven't had it easy. It's about time things started going your way."

We arrive in Manchester just after 6pm and, after getting dinner, head straight to our hotel. My interviews going to be just after 7am, meaning I have to be up at 5am- which is pure torture for a model! As settle into our beds for the night, mum has one final piece of advice for me.

"Don't let yourself get swallowed up by the media," mum cautions. "It's all fun and games now but you don't want to end up like these people who eat insects in the Australian jungle for money."

"I won't," I promise my mother. Deep down inside, I know she's right, but I so, so desperately want to enjoy my fifteen minutes of fame while they last. A text message from Charlotte containing a web link only strengthens my resolve when I open it and read the headline.

'Jamie-Lee Burke looks confident and sexy in knee-high boots as she leaves the This Morning studio', reads the headline on the same website that almost no time ago was insinuating that I was nothing more than a drag queen.

"Turn your phone off, for god's sake!" Mum chastises from the adjacent bed. "You've got an early morning tomorrow!" Smiling, I click my phone to silent and try to settle down for some sleep.

I barely stagger out of bed at 5am at my alarm's prompting, shuffling over to the tiny hotel bathroom for my morning routine (and having a minor panic before I remember where I packed my hormone pills). It's a challenge getting ready in such a cramped space, as opposed to my comparatively palatial en-suite back home, but despite a few hiccups (such as a few angry bangs on the wall from the hotel blow-dryer being too loud), when I leave the hotel just after 6:15am I am every bit Jamie-Lee the sexy and successful fashion model. My hair is tied up into a loose but sexy updo, my make-up and nails are, as always, immaculate, my red lipstick complimenting by subtle eye shadow. I'm wearing a short black dress with long lacy sleeves, and translucent black tights cover my legs with high-heeled ankle booties also covering my toes. I go through the same routine yesterday of being briefed by the researcher ahead of the interview itself- this time, rather than talk about my life, the interview will focus on being a transgendered person in the modern world, and what help there is on offer to young women (and men!) who are struggling to find their own identities. I'm not sure what advice exactly I can offer, but I quickly remember that not everyone can have a 'Charlotte', someone to back them up, and I quickly come up with one piece of advice.

"No matter how alone you feel," I say live on television in front of millions of viewers, "there will always be someone out there who understands what you're going through, even if it's just your GP, someone on the end of the telephone or even someone on an internet forum. Make sure you don't suffer in silence, and make sure you don't let yourself get pressured into being someone you don't want to be."

My interview concludes shortly after my 'words of wisdom', and I stumble off the set as nerve-wracked as I was the previous morning. Fortunately, mum's on hand to give me a calming hug and lead me back to the hotel. Unsurprisingly, my phone rings a few minutes later, and when I answer the phone, my dad's voice comes down the line.

"You were brilliant, Jamie," dad says, pride flowing through every syllable. "You really come across well on TV, even if your dress was too revealing." I giggle at my father's words before he continues. "Now when are you coming back to London? All my friends are asking about 'my new daughter the celebrity' and are eager to meet her!"

"We'll be back soon, I promise," I say, my heart filled with happiness. "I... kinda promised mum I'd treat her to a little shopping trip in Manchester, that's all." Dad accepts this and hangs up, but mum is understandably confused by my deception.

"You didn't promise me a shopping trip," she says.

"I know, but..." I begin, sighing heavily as I continue my confession. "I don't want to go back to London, not just yet anyway. You're right, pretty soon I'm going to be public property, I just want one day out as mother and daughter- like we should've done when I was younger?" Much to my relief, mum smiles warmly and nods.

"Then that's what you'll get," she states. "Though you're the high-flying celebrity, you're paying!" I giggle as we get ready for our day of shopping!

We eventually collapse back down on the train back to London at 1:30pm, several shopping bags in tow. I also treated mum to a makeover and a manicure whilst in Manchester, which will no doubt come as a big surprise to dad! Before I even have time to breathe, though, my phone rings yet again.

"Better get used to that!" Mum jokes as I check the caller ID- it's Joshua.

"Jamie-Lee, megastar!" My agent greets me as I answer the phone. "What are you doing tomorrow?" I quickly remember, through the haze of the last few days, that tomorrow is Friday- and Joshua will be expecting me in work.

"I'll be in at 9am," I say wearily, still exhausted from my early morning and impromptu shopping trip.

"Wrong answer!" Joshua commands. "Capital FM want you on their drive time show!" I sigh as I remember my mum's earlier advice- not to let myself be swallowed up by the media.

"Can- can you run all future bookings by me before accepting, please?" I ask hesitantly.

"Of course!" Joshua says, not losing an ounce of his trademark cheer. "But this is your chance, Jamie! The country loves you! Let's make millions whilst we still can- a few months from now you may even be bigger than Charlotte!"

"Just as long as a few years from now I'm not wolfing down crickets in a jungle in Australia," I retort, making Joshua laugh.

"No no no," Joshua happily replies. "In additional to being too beautiful and talented you're much too smart for that! Now get yourself back to London so your public can adore you!"

"Let me guess," mum asks as I hang up the phone, "another appearance?"

"Yep," I say wearily. "Capital FM tomorrow afternoon."

"Well, at least it's London and you'll get the chance to sleep in tomorrow," mum points out. I finger my phone for a few minutes before hastily composing an email.

"Who's that to?" Mum pries.

"Doctor Phillips," I answer stoically. "I just- I just need to get things off my chest I can only say in a doctor-patient kind-of environment. No offence, you understand."

"None taken," mum says. "And god knows you're paying her enough money!"

When we arrive back sat Euston dad's there waiting for us. Much to my surprise, he comes up to me and wraps me up in a big, fatherly hug before driving me back home where- along with a couple of paparazzi- all my friends are waiting for me. After unpacking and changing into a slouchy but oh so comfortable denim miniskirt and hoodie, I collapse down on my sofa, only to be instantly wrapped up in a hug from Krystie.

"You're so awesome!" Krystie squeaks in my ear as I try to pry myself away from her. Much to my horror, however, Mary immediately joins us on the sofa and turns the hug into a near rugby-tackle.

"Aahh!" Mary squeals in my ear. "Now I have two super-celebrity best friends!" I glance briefly up at Charlotte and whilst she's smiling at me, I can tell from her eyes that she isn't 100% happy. Whether she's jealous of my current success or even feels threatened, I can't tell, but I do know for sure that all is not well. Much to my relief, however, she simply rolls her eyes and joins in the group hug.

"I couldn't have done any of this without you," I whisper in Charlotte's ear. "Thank you so, so much."

"Don't forget it," Charlotte near-threatens, before calling off the group hug and settling back down. Deciding to let the 'threat' slide, I enjoy the rest of my girly night before turning in at around 10:30pm, and being reminded yet again that whilst I may have almost everything a girl could want, the man I thought I loved was missing- and STILL hasn't made any effort to contact me after our last phone call.

I switch off my alarm at 7:30 and happily roll over in bed, happy that Joshua's granted me the day off to deal with more personal matters- though of course, as far as Joshua's concerned, it's to give me time for more media appearances! I eventually roll out of bed at 9am and run through my morning routine, happy to be back in my own bathroom. After applying a light layer of make-up, I decide against a bra and thong, opting for a white sleeveless bodysuit instead, on top of which I pull on a pair of thin tights and a light patterned shirt dress. I'll change into something sexier for the radio- as silly as that sounds- but for now I just want to be as comfortable as possible. I pull on a pair of ballet flats and grab my handbag and car keys before heading downstairs. The paparazzi are all gone from outside, and whilst I'm relieved, a part of me is slightly disappointed that my fifteen minutes of intense fame already appear to have ended. Heading into my driveway, I muse for a while about how quiet, how normal- how almost boring things seem now.

I arrive at Dr. Phillips's office 20 minutes early- the usually chaotic London traffic being a lot calmer than normal for some reason- and take a seat in the waiting room. I'm not in there 5 minutes before I'm interrupted.

"Hi," the strange man says cautiously. "I hope you don't mind me asking- are you Jamie-Lee Burke?" I smile warmly at the stranger.

"Yeah," I say, feeling oddly proud about being recognised by this man I’ve never met. "Nice to meet you." I offer the man a handshake, which he happily accepts.

"Wow, I have the same psychiatrist as a celebrity," the man says. "I'm Stuart, Stuart Milton." I smile at the guy briefly before returning my attention to my smartphone.

"You know, what you said in BBC Breakfast yesterday really struck a chord," Stuart explains. "Sometimes it's nice to know there's someone else who understands."

"I don't follow?" I say, confused by the way the stranger is walking.

"Well you know what Dr. Phillips's specialism is, right?" Stuart says with a laugh. "Would it surprise you to know that six years ago my name was 'Claire' and I was the not-so proud owner of a vagina?" My jaw drops at the revelation- there was no way I would've picked Stuart for anything other than 100% male. He has a deep voice, muscle definition, a flat chest- even a light layer of stubble on his face!

"You're kidding," I breathe. Stuart simply chuckles.

"The wonders of testosterone," Stuart reveals. "Much like the oestrogen pills I'm guessing you take?"

"Why would you want to change from being a girl to being a boy?" I ask, confused by the notion.

"Better pay for starters," Stuart quips. "More comfortable clothes, less social pressure when it comes to how you look. Better television... Why would you want to change from being a boy to being a girl?"

"Better television," I say, poking my tongue out at Stuart, who simply laughs again.

"No, you're not arguing that Sex and the City is better than Top Gear," Stuart says dismissively.

"More comfortable clothes," I continue. "Better work... Just an all-round better lifestyle, really."

"I guess we're going to have to agree to disagree there," Stuart says, getting out his own smartphone. "I know this is going to sound odd, given that- and correct me if I'm wrong- we're both pre-op?" I nod, prompting Stuart to continue. "But would you, you know, maybe like to, perhaps, get a drink some time?" I smile at the surreal scene of one pre-operative transsexual asking out another pre-operative transsexual of BOTH opposite genders.

"Yeah," I say with a smile. "That might be fun." After exchanging email addresses with my new friend I'm called up to Dr. Phillips's office, where she's waiting for me with a smile on her face.

"I saw you on Breakfast yesterday," Beverly says with a warm smile. "Your email said you wanted to see me because you're feeling overwhelmed by what's happened the last few days, with the media and what happened with Paul?"

"I was," I confess, thinking fondly of my brief run-in with Stuart. "But I think I'm starting to feel better." I have a smile on my face as I talk things out with my psychiatrist. Yeah, things are different. Things are manic. But I can cope with it. I have people who love me, people who will always be there to tell me just how important I am, both to them, and to myself.