Totally Insane 7–Appendix
by Angharad

I lay in bed reflecting on my day. The tummy ache had gone and so had the squits, thank goodness. I think it was nerves and stress and having Brian for a brother. Mummy and Daddy, goodness, this girl stuff really is getting to me–tummy, mummy and daddy, I never used to talk like that–well not since I was about seven or eight. At the same time it didn’t seem to bother me. A week ago, it certainly would have done.

Anyway, Mum and Dad, had been quite reasonable in their support for me as Kylie, I just wish I knew what I wanted out of all this. Everyone else seems to know what’s best for me, but I don’t, which is unusual. Normally I do know what I want, or roughly do. This girl stuff really confuses me.

Daddy had shown me a way of analysing things, you do a column of pros and one of antis. Sometimes there are opposites which are equal. I tried a few times before it made much sense, like, ‘Being a girl is good’ and ‘Being a girl is bad.’ I also tried it with ‘boy’, but that didn’t work either.

In the end I just did one for ‘Kylie’ and one for ‘Kyle’. Part of me liked being a girl, but part of me liked being a boy sometimes too. It seemed easier being a girl, except for all the getting ready stuff, but that would get easier with practice. Pretty well everything I did as a boy, I could do as a girl–except use a boy’s loo. Not everything I did as a girl could I do as a boy–babysitting, was a prime example.

I loved the new relationship with Mummy, that was such fun so far, for both of us; even Daddy, seemed to be a little gentler with me. Maybe that was just ‘cos he was feeling his way, but Mummy was definitely enjoying having a girl in the house.

I enjoyed being a girl for Philip and his kisses. I blushed as I thought of them, but it was nice. “You kiss like a girl,” he’d said. I didn’t know, I hadn’t kissed a girl on the lips. I blushed again. Was the reality, that I was gay but was hiding it? I didn’t know. Which would be worse, changing into a girl or coming out as gay? Both would be difficult for me and all my family. Any time I was alone in school, I would be vulnerable and that probably meant getting beaten up–I was useless at fighting.

Brian laughed at me when I made a fist, I’d put my thumb inside my fingers. “That’s how girls do it,” he teased, then showed me how to do it properly. “If you hit anyone like you do it, you’d hurt yourself more than them, probably break your thumbs.” It was kind of him I suppose, except the only one I’d ever hit was him–and I slapped him. He laughed then beat me up.

If being a boy meant growing into something like Brian, I’d go for the girl thing every time. However, I knew that Philip was much gentler and nicer than Brian would ever be: but even he was tougher than me. My dad was right; I’m a wimp.

I went back to my analysis, but nothing seemed to recommend being a boy, it was all very girl dominated. That seemed a bit skewed to me, maybe lying in bed in a nightdress clutching my teddy bear, caused that to happen. I’ll think some more tomorrow, after all, the shrink was unlikely to see me for a couple of weeks, so there was no desperate urgency, was there?

I awoke in a sweat, Philip and I had been kissing in a quiet corner in the school grounds. Neither of us had seen the crowd gathering until it was too late. Then they closed in on us. “Kiss him again!” they demanded and photographed us with their mobiles, they made us do it over and over and I was crying. Philip tried to be brave and pushed me behind him but they dragged him away and punched and kicked him. I sank to the floor whimpering waiting for them to get me.

“What about this one, the femmy fairy?” asked one of the boys.

“Nah leave her, it would be like beating up a girl.” As I was dressed as a boy, it left me puzzled. Philip eventually returned battered, bleeding and bruised, “Come on, Kylie, let’s get back to class.”

“But you’re hurt!” I exclaimed and threw my arms around him.

“I’ll survive, it’s worth it for my girl.” At this point I woke up, in a lather and in tears.

I tried to concentrate on the good things, like Mummy doing things with me and it being such fun. Even washing up was fun doing it with someone. I eventually went back to sleep, but in the morning I didn’t feel very rested.

Mummy made me get up and shower, including washing my hair. She then showed me what to do and I had to do for myself. Apparently, I was going to have to do it every morning, probably with a different style. I yawned, no wonder it was only seven o’clock. The troll was still asleep, I was so tempted to wake him up–like, with a bucket of ice cold water! He’d kill me, besides his bed would need changing and guess who’d have to do it?

I dried my hair and styled it as required, Mummy stood behind me watching and advising. “Right, now put your face on.”

“What?”

“Some minimal makeup, what do kids of your age wear, a bit of mascara and lip gloss. Come on, if you were going to school you’d be late.”

“But Mummy–“ I was going to say, ‘boys don’t wear makeup!’ looking in the mirror, it seemed a bit irrelevant.

I put the stuff on my face, I was quicker than yesterday and poked myself in the eye only once. I even used some of the blue eyeliner that Karen had given me. Mummy watched me and smiled to herself.

“Right, I’ve put out a skirt and top with your panties and bra and a pair of tights and shoes. It’s the equivalent of what you’d wear if you were going to school, hurry up and get dressed, don’t just stand there admiring yourself!”

That broke the spell and I ran into the bedroom and donned the clothes, after using the anti-perspirant under my arms, something I didn’t do as a boy. ‘Dove,’ it said, I hoped it wasn’t made from pigeons. Girls seemed obsessed with making every inch of themselves look or smell different from how nature intended them to be. Mind you, that seemed better than being a Brian, who frequently ronked like a dung heap.

As I struggled into the bra, panties and tights, I recalled bits of the conversation between the older girls in the library. They seemed as obsessed with boy’s bums as they did their own appearances. Mind you, I’ve heard boys say, “Look at the arse on that,” when a girl walked past. I thought about Philip’s bum for a moment–I’d never noticed it. Did that mean I wasn’t a girl?

I pulled on the skirt and thought, ‘He certainly noticed mine in those frilly tennis knickers!’ I was leaving my bedroom when Brian lurched out of his, “Outta the way, faggot, a real man needs a pee.”

“A gentleman remembers to lift the seat and replace it afterwards, not spray all over it like a tomcat.” My mother’s voice was like music to my ears. Brian scowled and mouthed, ‘fairy’ at me.

Breakfast was over, and my mother had given Brian a lift to school. I suspect he’d get a bit more advice on dealing with his new sister, which would be pouring oil on the flames. Daddy had grumbled at him at breakfast, “Don’t just shovel it in like you’re feeding a cement mixer! Be a bit less greedy, like Kylie.” That inflamed things a bit more. He actually punched me on the arm as he left, I cried and Daddy stamped all over him. It cost him a week’s pocket money. I’d have a big bruise on my left arm now–the pig!

Daddy had reports to write, so I set about tidying up, doing the dishes and vacuuming. I made us some tea when I’d finished and took him in a cup.

“Where’s yours?” he asked as I proffered his tea.

“Out there, I was going to do some homework.”

“Well go and get it, we can have a quick chat while we drink it.” I slipped out to the kitchen and collected my cup and load of misgivings about this chat. “Bring some biscuits too. There’s some chocolate HobNobs there somewhere, I saw them earlier.” I went back and retrieved the biscuits, it wasn’t a daughter he wanted, it was a maid service.

“Here we are, Daddy.” I handed him the biscuits.

“You having one, or are you trying to keep your girlish figure?”

I wasn’t sure if that was a jibe or a mild tease but for choccie HobNobs, I’d kill my own granny. I took one and for a few moments we munched and slurped tea. I was waiting for the inquisition to start. I wasn’t long disappointed.

“So did you kiss that boy last night?”

“Only when he left,” it was true, he spent most of the time kissing me.

“I can’t get over how normal you look.”

I looked horrified, what was I supposed to look like–a little green man?

He must have seen my horrified expression, “I didn’t mean it like that, I meant, you look like a normal girl, not a boy dressing up as a girl. Nah, that still isn’t quite what I mean. You look good as a girl, yeah, better than you do as a boy. Does that sound better?”

“I think so,” I stood up and went and sat on his lap.

He put his arm around me, “Crikey, when was the last time you did this?”

“I can’t remember,” I said snuggling against his chest.

“What are you after?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to cuddle with you, Daddy.”

He kissed me on the top of my head. “You’re a strange kid, Kyl–ie, at least you used to be, maybe things are making sense at long last.”

I sat up, “What do you mean, Daddy?”

“I’m not sure. There was always something not right about you, compared to Brian–he’s a normal boy, well, as far as psychopaths go. You always seemed to struggle, almost as if the clothes didn’t quite fit you. Then I see you like this and it seems right somehow, everything fits. What do you think?”

I nearly fell off his lap in shock. What did he mean? Before I could answer, the phone rang.

“Hello, Stuart Mosse. Oh hello, Dr Brown, an appointment for Kylie? Yes that’s fine, Friday at two. If I move things around a bit, I think I might be able to take her. Dr Andrea Schlessinger, yeah, I’ve got that, Meadow Road Clinic, I know it, we have a shop just around the corner. How’s the handicap? Down to seven! Jeez, mine’s stuck at nine, but then I haven’t done a round for weeks. What, on Sunday, yeah, I could make eight o’clock. Great, I’ll see you there then. Bye.”

He put the phone down and looked at me. I had removed myself from his lap as he moved to pick it up. I was staring into his eyes. “Well, young lady, your date with destiny is on Friday at two.”

I sat with wide eyes and probably a gold fish mouth. I hoped I wasn’t dribbling. “I heard you,” I said when my brain clicked into start mode again.

“Dr Andrea Schlessinger, I wonder if she’s a foreigner?”

“Does it matter?” I asked wondering whether she would be nice or fierce? Would she think I was a fairy or a girl stuck in a boy’s body, or something else altogether? Would she want to cut my dingle off? And what did I think about it? I hadn’t thought about it at all, except the other day, when, I wondered why boys made such a fuss about them, their winkies I mean, to me it was only something I used for weeing; was I missing something?

“No, of course it doesn’t matter, I simply thought if she was foreign we could have a language problem, you know, subtleties of English and all that.” I didn’t know, I wasn’t very subtle, mainly because I wasn’t sure what it meant. Maybe I was subtle and didn’t know it.

“Are you playing golf with Dr Brown on Sunday?”

“Yes, haven’t done so for ages. Why?”

“I just wondered that’s all.” Actually, I wondered what they might say about me, but if they play in larger groups, which I think they do, they wouldn’t be able to say much at all. “I like Dr Brown.”

“He’s a nice bloke,” agreed my father.

“Daddy, what did you mean about the clothes didn’t seem to fit?”

“Oh it’s nothing, lovely. The important thing is that the ones you’re wearing look really good on you.”

“Do they?” I felt puzzled.

“Why, don’t they feel comfortable?” Now he looked puzzled.

“Yeah, they’re okay, just a bit draughty.” Well they were.

He laughed and shook his head. “You’ll get used to it.”

Would I? Did I want to? Goodness, what will I tell this shrink on Friday? What will she tell me? I wanted to know, but I coulda waited a month or twelve. It was scary stuff. I mean, after I saw her would I be labelled some sort of wuss? An official fairy or faggot? It was double scary.

“You’re not listening to me are you?” My father’s voice came through rather loudly.

“Sorry, Daddy, I was thinking about Friday.”

“What about it?”

I could hardly tell him what I had really been thinking, so I fibbed, “I was wondering what to wear.”

“Spoken like a true girl, Kylie, the more I see of you the more I realise how you must have suffered as a boy.”

“Who me?” I asked in astonishment.

“No the cat, who else, you silly goose?”

“Maybe, I dunno.”

“How about we go out for some lunch?”

“I have homework to do,” I reminded him.

“So? I have reports to do. Come on, get your coat and we’ll grab a burger somewhere.” He wasn’t in a mood to listen or argue, so I went and got my fleece jacket.

I expected we’d end up in McDonalds but I was to be surprised. He parked the car at a pub. Normally, he doesn’t take me into pubs which is fine by me. I don’t like the smell of the beer and fags. However, I’d forgotten they don’t allow smoking anymore in public places, and this place looked okay.

He ushered me into the restaurant end and we took a vacant table. There were quite a few people eating here, I sat there clutching my bag. “I’m going to have a pint I think, what would you like, daughter-o mine?”

My mind went blank, drink–wet stuff you pour down your throat–oh yes, remember now, “Can I have Ribena?”

“Course you can, if they have it.” He went off to the bar, this was something new, I was sitting at a table with people all around me and they had time to stare. I tried to relax, but all I wanted was him to come back and protect me. A woman on the next table caught my eye and smiled, I smiled back. Was she smiling because she knew or was she just being friendly?

I decided to have dig in my bag, it stopped me looking at other people and I hoped, them at me. I found some tissues and pretended I needed to wipe my nose. Daddy returned with the drinks. I thanked him and went to pick up my glass but my hand was shaking so much, I couldn’t.

“Relax, girl, pubs aren’t that frightening,” he said softly to me. Maybe not if you’re wearing trousers, but in a draughty skirt, I beg to differ. “I’ve ordered some food, I hope that’s okay. To save time, they look quite busy.”

“What did you order?” I asked hoping it wasn’t something I didn’t like–like Brussels sprouts! Yuck!

“A steak roll, is that okay?”

Oh wow, only my favourite! “Yes, Daddy, that sounds lovely.”

“I think you chose one before, so I sort of remembered.” He was absolutely right. I’ve only had one before and it was deee-lishhhh! We don’t go to pubs very often, sometimes on a Sunday if he isn’t working and then it’s usually a roast dinner.

“What are you going to wear on Friday?” he asked and it brought me back to the present, instead of dribbling over my lunch expectations.

“Erm, I don’t know, I thought I’d talk to Mummy, see what she thought about it.” In fact, I didn’t have much idea. I couldn’t remember what I had in the wardrobe, let alone what would be most suitable. However, I was enjoying the attention and his softer approach.

“Hmmm, I was wondering if you wanted to have a quick flit around a shop or two on the way back. See if anything takes your fancy?”

Was he offering to buy me a new outfit? This never happened to Kyle, wow! Do I like this, or do I like this? Not so sure about the buying clothes without Mummy though, or Gemma. But can I afford to turn it down? I won’t be on my own will I? My tummy flipped and I wondered if it was wind or nerves, or even both.

He told me he was getting a new car soon, the firm paid for it and he had ordered an Audi. I’m not into cars, unless it’s their locking systems and those are getting too electronic for my liking. You need special equipment to get into them, ultrasonic stuff and so on. However, I tried to sound enthusiastic about his new toy.

“Talking of transport, maybe it’s just as well you bought the bike that you did.” He was referring to my girly Trek, it was okay, it got me about and went okay and was good for what I paid for it.

“Yeah, I like my bike.” Well I did, it had two wheels what more could I want.

“Did you buy it because it was a girl’s one?”

Duh! I bought it by mistake, another of Brian’s jokes–he knew it was a girl’s one, I didn’t, he told me a Trek, MTB in my size. I didn’t know it was his friend’s sister’s old bike.

“Not especially, that was just a bit of luck.” All of it bad! The ribbings I’d taken because of that bloody bike, and he was as much of a source of them as as anyone.

“And to think, I used to tease you about it. I’m sorry for that.”

“’S okay.” I saw the waitress arriving with our plates, it was going to end the conversation in the best way possible–a mouthful of steak roll.

“That bike you lost was nice one, and I was very cross with you for losing it. So I made you keep the Trek to teach you a lesson. Looks like you taught me one instead.”

I didn’t answer, I was stuffing as much of my food down my gullet as fast as I could, in as delicate a manner as I could. My hands had stopped shaking and I was enjoying my meal, I could even lift my glass without the hint of a tremor.

We finished our lunch and I had a nervous moment when I went to the loo on the way out. It was all about nothing, there was no one else in the ladies, so I needn’t have worried. I touched up my lippy and Daddy was waiting for me when I emerged. He smiled and I took his hand as we walked back to the car. He seemed so much more protective of me than before, and I think I liked it.

We parked at one of his shops and walked into a couple of stores where we browsed what was on offer. Or I browsed, he stood behind me. I wasn’t quite sure what to do, so I just watched the other girls. Look through stuff until you see something you like, look for your size, hold it up against you, maybe check in a mirror, stick it back and start again, or take armfuls off to the changing rooms.

We ended up in New Look, a chain of boutiques who sell stuff mainly for teens at reasonable prices. I found two skirts I liked and a top which would go with both of them. He held my bag while I tried them on but insisted I show him them. Cor! This was worse than going out with a boyfriend! How did I know that?

He gave me the money to buy them but we agreed, I needed something a bit more classy for Friday. We ended up in Debenhams department store. He helped me choose a blue floral print dress, with short puff sleeves and full skirt. I tried it on, it made me look about six years old. He liked it, but I gave a very firm negative opinion and we settled for a cotton dress in black with a pink design on it, it had thin shoulder straps and I put it on over a pink tee with long sleeves. He wasn’t sure, but I was. Gemma had something like it and it would go with my fleece too. Maybe I should tap him for a jacket?

I did five minutes later, a denim one with a bit of embroidery on it, but it would go with loads of things.

“I suppose you need shoes to go with the dress, your mother always does.” My father intoned in a resigned sort of way, so who was I to argue? I found a pair of red pumps and a little red bag, and after some longing looks, he bought me a pair of Assos trainers as well, with a lilac trim–kewl or what?

I hugged him and said in a little girl voice, “Thank you, Daddy.”

He shook his head, “I know I’ve been done,” he said, “come on let’s go before you bankrupt me.”

We popped in his shop before we went back because I wanted some more lip gloss and he can get discount there.

“Hello, Stuart,” said the woman behind the counter.

“Hi, Lorraine.”

“Who’s this?”

“My youngest: Kylie, say hello to Lorraine.” He had his hand around my shoulder so I could hardly dive into the makeup rack.

“Hi, Lorraine.” I said shyly looking at the floor and blushing.

“She needs some new lipstick or other,” my father’s eyebrows rose to emphasise his exclusion from the feminine mysteries of makeup.

“Help yourself, sweetheart, do you know what you want?”

“I think so,” I said, not having clue but this was a voyage of discovery after all. I went off to the makeup counter and explored the racks of sameness with different names.

“I thought you had two boys, Stuart.”

“Nah, a boy and a girl, Brian and Kylie.”

“Oh, I must have misremembered.” They chatted on and I felt myself blushing. It was embarrassing for me, how did my parents feel, with all this potential for change? Well that was up to them, I had to cope with my own level of hazard, which was manifesting in a hand covered in stripes of different testers. I couldn’t remember which one was which.

Fifteen minutes later we were back in the car, me clutching the bag of assorted cosmetics. It was much bigger than I intended, I got the lip gloss eventually plus matching nail varnish and remover pads, plus makeup remover wipes and a whole pile of ex-stock testers which had never been used.

Lorraine had said, “At your age, kiddo, my mother would have murdered me if I used makeup, nowadays they seem to start in the pram. Take this lot because they’re only destined for the bin and you can have a play. Just make sure you moisturise after you’ve cleaned it all off. She gave me a small bottle of expensive moisturiser and winked at me.

“Thank you so much for all my stuff. No wonder Daddy likes working here, everyone is so nice.”

“Stuart, I hope you’re taking notice of this customer feedback, maybe a pay rise for our hard work?”

“I wish,” said my dad sighing, “I’m only the manager remember, I do what I’m told too.”

“The area manager.”

“Yeah, big deal, just means more aggro from you lot.”

“Kylie, does it look as if I’m hassling your dad?” Lorraine smiled sweetly at me. My father however, narrowed his eyes, he knew he was beaten.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t looking.” I said and smiled sweetly back. They both laughed.

I was still doing my homework when my brother arrived, “Hey, fairy cake, get me a can of coke.”

“Get your own, I’m busy.” I had to put up some sort of resistance.

“You wait, faggot face.”

“Yeah, wanna lose some more of your allowance?” I spat back at him.

“You wanna lose your little girl face?” he held a fist inches from my nose, it smelt, not as much as my response merited, but I was playing it for all it was worth.

“Erk! When did you last wash your hands, erk! They stink.”

Instead of hitting me, he sniffed his hand. “I can’t smell anything.”

“Well I can, no wonder you can’t get a girlfriend, you pong.”

“You cheeky cow,” he said before sniffing under his arms. However, he didn’t hit me and went upstairs. A few minutes later, I heard water running and I chuckled.

I finished my homework while he was de-lousing himself and by the time he came downstairs, I was up in my room trying to sort out my wardrobe. I needed a bigger one really.

I packed some of the boy clothes I hadn’t worn for a while in some black plastic bags, and emptied out a couple of drawers in my tallboy. Then I re-hung my girly clothes. They were fast overtaking the rest. I was really pleased with the denim jacket it would go with my skirt and the two pairs of jeans I had and my new trainers, they were fab.

Daddy had dropped me off after our shopping trip and I promised not to burn the house down. I did make myself some tea–I’ve been drinking it since I was about four years old and I do like it. Then I’d taken my new purchases upstairs and laid them on the bed.

I asked him about a dressing table as we drove home because with all this makeup, I needed somewhere to keep it.

“Let’s see how you get on with the doctor first. I don’t want to spend out on large items until we know they’re necessary. If you stay as a girl or intend to do so, we’ll see about getting you one. Okay?”

It seemed a reasonable argument, so how could I protest? Then he said something about a shop mirror in the garage which he would set up in my bedroom so I had a better one than I currently had. Fair enough, I thought, at least he was trying. Actually, with his acceptance and generosity today, I thought he was wonderful. Maybe this girl thing was a good idea.

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Thanks to Gabi for more express editing - any errors left are entirely my responsibility, or >^^< you know who!