Virtually Feminine - Part 10 - Thanksgiving
Cathy decides to go ahead with her real life test and live as a woman 24 x 7. Her first public outing is at Kathryn's Thanksgiving Party as an 'honourary American' because she knows how to bake pumpkin pie...

Thanks to Gabi for all her help and support and for proof-reading all this for me. I wouldn't be able to post this without her.

Part 10 - Thanksgiving

I'd driven home as soon as I got back to my car. I don't like staying in London any longer than I have to. I always find it a strange mix of exciting and depressing. Exciting because there are all the shops and shows and museums. Depressing because they're so expensive and I don't feel I fit in. I miss the countryside and greenery of the West Country.

I called my Mum on the way home. It’s ok, I have built-in hands-free in the car, and the journey is two and a half hours on a good day, once you get to the car, so I had time.

It was an odd conversation, a little stilted. Mum has difficulty hearing me on the phone sometimes these days. I’m still not clear what she thinks about me transitioning. She seems to be ignoring it, as much as possible. I haven’t pushed the point, I haven’t shown her what I look like when I’m dressed as a woman. I guess that she will accept it, for the sake of her grandkids, but I can tell she’s bothered. Whether she’s worried for me or worried by me, I can’t tell yet.

I didn’t call my Dad, I generally don’t think to call him. When we spoke after Linda saw me in a dress he tried to make it all about him - how could I be so stupid as to let Linda discover me? Didn’t I realise how that made him look? Why couldn’t I be man enough to let him know first?
Kind of ironic, that last one.
My Dad is probably one of the reasons I have no interest in playing at being a man anymore. He is the very definition of ‘toxic masculinity’ - his picture is alongside the entry in the dictionary.

After I ended the call with my Mum, I drove home with MP3s from my phone playing on the car audio and mused about what I would be wearing to go to work in weeks to come.

I wanted to tell Kathryn all about my appointment as I drove home. But I waited until I knew she'd be out of the office before I called her.

It was quite late in the day by the time I got home and I didn't have to wait long to talk to Kathryn. She sounded nearly as disappointed as I felt, as I described the whole heap of nothing that had changed. She became more interested as I mentioned the support service near Exeter.

“So. Are you coming into work tomorrow as Cathy?” she asked.

“I don’t think I’m quite ready for that tomorrow.” I admitted, “But I think it’s clear that, sooner or later, it’s going to happen”.

“What can I do to help you get to that point?” Kathryn asked.

“You’ve already done so much for me,” I replied. “Just… I don’t know, be patient with me? For a little while longer. I know I can rely on you to stand by me when things get sticky”.

“You know it, girl friend!” Kathryn said

-0-0-

Friday was a drag, after the excitement of the day before.

-0-0-

That weekend I sat down and had a chat with Kevin and Rachael about me wearing dresses in the future. Rachael didn’t really understand why it would be an issue. Kevin was angry and confused. I wanted to ask them not to talk to Linda about it, but that would mean either they told her everything and it drove a wedge between us all or they wouldn’t be able to talk to their mother about something that might be troubling them a lot. I held my tongue. I could explain that their Mum had sent an evil letter to my boss to try and get me into trouble, but really they were too young to understand and trying to get into a battle with their mother through them was not something I would ever do.

Linda might try it though.

-0-0-

On Sunday, I planned to go to town on the roast dinner. I had a new dress, I’d practised my makeup with help from Kathryn, I had a really nice joint of beef, with all the trimmings and an apple pie and custard for dessert.

I seasoned the meat and got it in the oven, prepared the vegetables and laid the table. Then I went to get dressed and made-up before my Mum arrived. When I came back down, I put an apron on to protect my new dress and I carried on getting the dinner ready. The roast potatoes were in when Mum arrived.

She looked me up and down when she came in, but she didn’t say a word about my outfit.

She said, “Hello, Andy,” as she stepped through the door.

Rachael came bounding up then to take over Grandma’s time.

“Grandma! There you are! Come and play with me,” she said.

I went back to the kitchen and carried on preparing dinner. When everything was ready I called everyone to the table.

Kevin came down from his room and gave me a curious look. Then he saw the food on the table and, given his usual priorities, unsurprisingly, decided food first and snarky comments after.

Mum came in with Rachael and her eyebrow raised when she saw the food laid out on the table.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked.

“What? I can’t prepare a fabulous dinner for my family?” I asked “I’m celebrating my first appointment at the gender clinic following the referral from my company,” I continued.

“Your company is paying for all this?” Mum said, gesturing vaguely in my direction.

“Well, I bought the dress, my friend, Kathryn, helped pick out the makeup, but yes, the company is picking up my medical bills. Their health insurance covers Gender Dysmorphia, which they believe is the root cause of my long-term depression,” I said.

Mum considered this for a moment and clearly thought that this was not a subject to be discussed in front of the children.

“Well, this all looks delicious! Can you pass me the potatoes, Kevin?” she said.

The rest of the evening was bizarrely normal.

I didn’t need to bathe Rachael anymore, but she was still young enough that I needed to supervise, and help her dry her hair downstairs with Grandma as Kevin took a shower.

Mum helped me get the kids off to bed. When Kevin had said good night and gone off to his room she sat down and sighed.

“Long term depression?” she asked.

“You know I’ve been depressed,” I answered.

“I’d assumed it was because of the breakdown of your marriage,” she said.

“I’m not sure which was the cause and which was the effect, to be honest. Linda and I were growing apart for years.” I said

“Well, you know I never liked her?” Mum said.

“I know...she changed, she wasn’t that bad when we got together. And I wanted kids…” I said.

“You wanted to be a mother?” Mum asked.

“Ha! Yes, I suppose so. I didn’t really know what I wanted then. I just felt… incomplete, like something was missing?” I said.

Mum looked a little wistful.

“Yes,” she said, “I remember that feeling… Kids… well, children give our lives meaning, I think.”

She looked over at me, and continued.

“Even when you don’t understand them and barely recognise them… you still love them.”

I started tearing up.

“Oh Mum! Stop it! I’m not wearing waterproof mascara and I don’t want to give Rachael nightmares when I check she’s asleep!” I said.

Mum chuckled.

“She’s made of stronger stuff than your Kevin. Girls have to be, I guess, as you will learn, I’m afraid…” she said.

“I think I have to go through this, Mum,” I said softly, “I don’t want to think about how low I got before…”

“Before?” Mum prompted.

“Before I found what has been dragging me down all my life, I think. I’ve never been truly happy, I just hid everything, from you, from Linda and from myself.” I said.

“I knew you were struggling,” Mum said. “But I never imagined anything like this…”

“I’m sorry Mum, I don’t think it was a choice,” I said.

“No. I don’t suppose it was… a Mother has a right to worry that you are doing the right thing for the right reason. And I don’t pretend to understand what’s going on inside your head… But I will be here for you and the kids. I just wish you hadn’t chosen such a difficult path…” she said.

“Not really a choice.” I reminded her.

“What’s the next step, then?” she asked.

“Well, the consultant said that I should start with a social transition, begin my Real Life Test, straight away,” I said.
“What does that mean?” my Mum asked, looking worried.

“Dressing like a woman all the time, living as a woman full-time,” I explained.

“Isn’t that, I don’t know… dangerous?” she asked.

“There is some risk, I guess. I don’t think I’ll be in any physical danger, though. On the job side... I don’t think I’m in danger of losing my job, like you seem to imagine. HR has already made it clear that they will back me at work, my job will be protected because I’ll be a minority.” I said.

I told Mum about Julie and what she said about it potentially being a good move, career-wise.

Mum shook her head.

“I don’t understand the world anymore. But you make a convincing woman. What name will you use? Andi? Andrea?” she asked.

“Er… I go by Cathy, online. A clean break between the two of us.” I said.

“I was going to call you Rachael, if you had been a girl,” she said.

“I know, that’s why I named my daughter Rachael. I never dreamed I might want that name for my own… No, I think Cathy will save a lot of confusion. Catherine for best.” I said.

“Isn’t your friend called Catherine?” Mum asked.

“Kathryn, with a ‘K’,” I said. “She never shortens it to Kathy, but yes, it can be confusing. We have three Andys in the sales team at the moment, so I guess it will be less confusing than that!”

We chatted for a little longer. The tension that there had been earlier had lessened now, and Mum seemed to accept that this was something that I had to do.

When she got up to leave, I rose with her to see her to the door. She gave me a hug, just before she left. I don’t remember the last time my Mum hugged me like that.

“My word!” she said as she let me go “You’re nothing but skin and bone! No wonder you look so good in a dress. But men like a few curves! Don’t get too skinny.”

I snerked, I couldn’t hold my laugh in.

“I think it’s going to be a long time before I date anyone, Man or woman. If I’m confused about my gender and my body, how is dating going to fit in?”

Mum shrugged.
“Sometimes the love of a good man can make everything seem right again,” she said with a smile.

I smiled as I thought about Fee.

“I guess you have a point!” I said.

Mum gave me a look, but didn’t stop to dig into it then. I don’t think she wanted any more revelations tonight, and I think she thought I was just winding her up.

-0-0-

I dropped off the kids at school as usual the next day and headed to work. I discussed with Julie how to make the transition to working as a woman. We agreed that I would continue using the disabled toilets downstairs, I would be given a key. That had the advantage that the room locked, rather than just the stall and it would give me some privacy to change or even shower (there was a shower stall in there too). I would send out an email to the company announcing my decision and Julie would follow it up with an email to the managers highlighting the company policies and offering guidance and training to anyone who thought that they might need it under the circumstances.

To be honest, I was more worried about the assholes who knew that they didn’t need training, they could only ever be in the right because they were white and male.

-0-0-

I drafted my letter, and shared it with Julie to see if she agreed with it. I also shared it with Kathryn to see if she could suggest anything. We ended up agreeing on this:

Dear Colleagues,

I’m sending this email to inform you of something that is intensely personal to me but which will result in some changes at work. I obviously cannot talk to each of you individually and explain everything to you personally so I am writing to explain to you so you won’t hear things via the rumour-mill that may be inaccurate or wrong.

I realise that some of you may still have questions or strong opinions about the issues raised by this email. By all means, drop me an email in return and I will do my best to answer any questions that you may have as honestly as I can.

I have been questioning my gender identity for some time now and I have realised that the depression and anxiety I have suffered from has been caused by the discomfort of being designated as male. Outside of work I have, with the help of friends and family, been identifying as a woman. Unfortunately, this has meant my discomfort at work has been growing. Following medical advice, and with the support of our HR team I have decided to transition to living as a woman full time.

I will still be the same person and this should improve my ability to concentrate on my work as it will remove a major distraction for me as I will no longer have two personas to juggle.

As you can imagine, this has been a difficult decision that I have struggled with for some time. Most of the people I have told about this already have been overwhelmingly supportive, which has surprised and delighted me. I hope that the rest of you will feel the same way, or at least reserve judgement until we have had a chance to work together and you get to know me in my new persona.

I will be leaving work on Wednesday evening as Andy Smith (male) and returning to work on Friday as Ms Catherine Smith (female), but I hope that you will call me Cathy.

Respectfully

Cathy Smith

Bid Manager

Julie shared this letter, along with a letter from the HR team, with the Senior Management team. That was kind of the point of no return for me.

The HR letter had a link to the company diversity policy, pointed out the section on Transgender rights and zero tolerance to abuse in the workplace and reiterated the company values of tolerance.

I got a personal email from the Chief Executive of the company congratulating me on my bravery and asking me to arrange to meet with him next week. I rang his PA, a charming woman called Maddie, who, as his PA, had already seen all of the messages, and arranged a meeting on Monday morning.

The messages to the whole company were scheduled to be sent on Wednesday morning. I’d already booked off Thursday to make pumpkin pies for Kathryn’s Thanksgiving dinner.

The rest of Monday and Tuesday were a bit of a blur.

I dragged myself into work on Wednesday with a feeling of dread and elation. This could all go either very well or very very badly. Possibly both.

My line manager, Sally, had been on the list of people who had seen the draft email. She hadn’t had much to say about it, strangely. When the email went out, the phone on her desk started ringing, the emails started flooding in and she turned to me and said:

“Well, the circus has started, you may as well go now, you won’t get any more work done today!”

“Er… Ok, I guess that you are right” I said. I got up and started packing my bag to leave.

“I’ll look forward to meeting ‘Cathy’ on Friday!” Sally said cheerfully.

I left the building quickly. There was a feeling of being watched as I made my way to my car. I felt like everyone in the company was pointing at me and saying to the person standing next to them ‘That’s him, that’s the weirdo who sent the email!’

-0-0-

When I got home, I took off my suit, put on some yoga pants and a sweatshirt and started packing all my male clothes away. I had already started preparing and many things were cleaned and folded and sorted. I started packing them into boxes and taping them up. I planned to take them to a charity shop, but I thought I would give it a few weeks before I did that. Not that I really expected to ever go back to dressing in male clothes after today, but, hey, I never thought a year ago that I would ever be wearing women’s clothes to go to work.

I took a break for a small steak and a salad and then I started putting some outfits together and packing an overnight bag for Kathryn’s party, and going into work the next day as Cathy.

Because I didn’t have to be up early in the morning for work, I went to bed quite late. I still couldn’t sleep. I lay in bed in my sleep shorts set thinking of all the things that might happen over the next few days, good and bad and in-between.

-0-0-

I woke at 7 a.m. the next day and my mind started whirling, so I decided to get up and start baking.

I took two large pumpkins, cut them in half, scooped out the seeds, smeared the edge with olive oil and placed the halves on a baking tray in a preheated oven for forty-five minutes.

The flesh of the pumpkin steamed in its own juices that were trapped under the dome of the pumpkin half.

I started making the pastry for the cases, I rolled it out, lined the greased pie tins and put in the baking paper and beads to blind bake the cases. When I took out the pumpkins to scoop out the baked flesh I put in the cases.

I scooped out the flesh and blended it in a large plastic jug with a hand-blender, then I separated the puree into two jugs. In the larger one that I had used to puree the flesh, I made up the filling with cream, eggs, condensed milk, brown sugar and a mixture of ginger, cinnamon and mixed spice. The second, smaller jug I experimented with a keto version of the recipe, eggs and double cream were fine, and so were the spices. I used Erythritol instead of sugar and skipped the condensed milk entirely. I put just a little Xanthan gum in to try and ensure the filling had the right consistency after baking.

By the time I had the fillings made, the cases were ready, smelling great and looking just slightly darker than when they went in.

I quickly removed the paper and beads and filled the cases, making sure I made a note of the position of which one had the keto mix. I put them back in the oven and went to have a shower. They would need to be turned down after about 30-40 minutes, but they would take a long time to cook, so I thought I would use the time to start getting ready.

I used hair removal cream all over my body before I got in the shower, which took 15 minutes or so, I was worrying while I was showering about how the pies were doing. I threw on my pink towelling robe when I got out of the shower and I hurried down to the kitchen to check. There was a skin forming on the filling, but it was clear that they still were not cooked. I turned the oven down and went back to getting ready.

I tucked and taped and affixed my prosthetics, every girl needs a little help and I needed more help than most. Then I put on my new bra and panties. A feeling of peace settled over me and I let out a breath that I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. I felt just a little more feminine, my body was starting to match the way it should have always been. I still had makeup and hair to do before I could be seen in public, but I felt more ‘right’ than I had for days.

I went back down to the kitchen to check on the pies. They were looking pretty good now. I pulled up a stool next to the breakfast bar so that I could watch the oven as I had a coffee on the counter next to me and I sat down to wait until the pies were ready.

I tried to imagine myself as a domestic goddess, swanning around in a peignoir, like Nigella Lawson, the thought cracked me up, and I laughed to myself. Linda had joked, early in our relationship, that with my cooking skills I would make someone a lovely wife.

Her loss, silly cow.

I finished my coffee and checked the pies again, they looked pretty good, with some brown patches on top. I didn’t want to overcook them, I wasn’t sure whether to eat them at room temperature or warm them slightly at Kathryn’s, chilled pumpkin pie was too bland to contemplate.

I took the pies out and left them cooling on boards on the work surface. I tidied the kitchen up and then did a quick check around the house. I was going to go into work from Kathryn’s tomorrow and pick up the kids on the way home from work, so the next time I would be home would be with the kids. I didn’t want to bring them home into a messy house.

Once I had finished tidying I went upstairs to finish getting changed and packing my bags. I decided to wear my jeans to drive up and help Kathryn set up and then change into my long skirt for the party.

I loaded up my car, with my bags (including my handbag, I was going to have to remember that from now on), clothes and the pies and set off.

It took nearly an hour and a half to drive to Kathryn’s. It felt a little odd, driving such a long way in my wig and makeup, I had avoided driving any great distance so obviously ‘en femme’ up until now because I didn’t want to have to answer awkward questions if I was stopped by the police for some reason. As I was going to be driving to work every day like this from now on, now was as good a time as any to start getting over my hangups about driving.

When I got to junction 17 of the M4, I rang Kathryn to let her know that I was nearly there and to check that it was ok to park on the road outside her front door for a few moments to drop off the pies and my bag?

“Of course!” she replied “See you soon!”

It took me about 20 minutes to get to Kathryn’s house and I parked right outside her door, with two wheels on the pavement, got out and knocked on the door. Kathryn opened it straight away and I handed her the pies in a cake carrying case, her eyes widened in appreciation.

“Wow, these look great!” she said.

“The one on the top is mine, it doesn’t have any sugar,” I said.

Kathryn’s face screwed up.

“Eww!” she said “That’s a horrible thought! Thanksgiving dessert with no yummy calories!”

“Oh, it has calories, just no sugar. I’m going to have to leave the crust though” I said, then sighed, like the martyr I am.

I handed my case, skirt and suit for tomorrow to Kathryn.

“Right, I’ll go and park and see you in a few minutes,” I said. I was anxious to get away before a parking warden came, Kathryn had told me how difficult they had made her neighbour’s lives.

I parked up in the same place I had before. I got my coat and my handbag, checked the car to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, locked up, double-checked the handle and headed off to Kathryn’s.

It took 3 minutes to drive to where I parked, but nearly ten minutes to walk back. I only had a low heel on my boots, but it did affect the way I walked. It was quite mild for November, about 12 degrees Celsius, but it wasn’t warm and I was glad of my woollen coat.

I felt strangely exposed, walking by myself, like I was in enemy territory, somehow.

When I got back to Kathryn’s house I knocked on the door. It took a long time for Kathryn to open the door, I was starting to wonder if she had heard me. Kathryn didn’t have a doorbell, just a knocker in the shape of a woodpecker. I never wanted to bang it too hard in case I broke something, but, given the layout of her house, if I knocked on the door and she was in the shower on the top floor then there was no way that she would hear me.

Kathryn welcomed me in with a hug and led me inside.

“Is it ok if I take my bag upstairs and go and get changed?” I asked.

“Leave your bag downstairs in the old kitchen,” she said “I’ve arranged for you to stay with friends tonight, so you can take your bag when you leave.”

“OK,” I said, a little doubtfully. I don’t know these friends and I’m feeling pretty vulnerable right now.

Kathryn had transformed her house, she’d shown me some photos online that she told me were taken by a professional photographer for House and Garden magazine. The downstairs was carpeted, had one large sofa and two small ones and bookshelves and lamps. One wall, behind the larger sofa, was dominated by a huge mirror that hid half the wall and had a heavy pewter effect frame. But the vast mirror gave the illusion that the small room was much larger than it really was. I stowed my bag, coat and suit on its hanger in the old kitchen that Kathryn had converted to a kind of cloakroom or alcove, with coat hooks, and headed upstairs with my skirt and handbag.

I got changed in the bathroom that I had helped to tile and I took the opportunity to touch up my makeup.

When I came downstairs to the kitchen Kathryn was running around getting things ready, there was so much food and more stuff cooking in the oven.

“Can you help me? Can you stick this up there? Close to the ceiling?” Kathryn asked. She handed me a packet of blu tack and some red, white and blue tinsel.

“You only wanted me to come to save on buying a ladder?” I asked.

“I’m hurt… there’s also your pumpkin pie!” Kathryn quipped.

We put up some decorations and Kathryn continued to prepare food until we got to 6 pm, then Kathryn said…

“Right! I have to run and get a shower now. Can you keep an ear out for the door and let in anyone who knocks?”

“You don’t have invitations, or a password?” I asked.

“No…” she said.

“How do I know if they are people you’ve actually invited?” I asked.

“Well… if they have an American accent then you can be fairly sure I invited them!” Kathryn said.

-0-0-

No one came while Kathryn was in the shower, I think that she was just teasing me. She took less time than I did to get ready, but I guess she has a significant head-start on me when it comes to looking feminine.

We were chatting in the kitchen when the first knock on the door came. We went down to answer the door together, I stayed behind Kathryn as she let in her first visitor, a guy about our age with a beard and, as it turned out, a Scottish accent.

“Ian!” Kathryn said, “You’re a little earlier than I expected, come in, this is my friend, Cathy!”

“Oh, aye!” Ian said, looking me up and down. He didn’t make any comment, so I assume Kathryn has told him she had a trans-woman at the party. I wondered what she had said and who she had told. “I’ll just go and put these in the kitchen then…” He said, as he indicated a carrier bag that clinked as he raised it. “I saw some of the others coming along behind me…” and with that, he headed upstairs to the kitchen.

There was another knock on the door then. From that moment on there was a steady stream of people, most of whom had American accents. Kathryn’s tiny house seemed full with Kathryn, Island and me in it, by the time there were eight other people it was a struggle to find somewhere to sit down, even with people spread through the living room, Kitchen and Bedroom on the three floors. Nobody seemed to know each other, except for the last couple to arrive; Mark and Jenny, who clearly knew each other - Mark was the American and Jenny had a British accent. Mark knew Ian, apparently.

Most of the conversation in the early part of the evening was based on answering the question “Well, how do you know Kathryn, then?” Which was easy for me; “We work together,” was met with an “Oh, of course”.

Everyone brought food or drink and the large table in Kathryn’s kitchen and every available flat surface was covered in food and drink. There was nowhere to sit down for a meal so Kathryn organised it as a kind of buffet. There was turkey, sweet potato (mashed and fried in chunks like roast potatoes), there were roast potatoes, pasta salad, potato salad, vegetables and several desserts. Someone else had brought a pumpkin pie but theirs was a much larger and more elaborate thing than mine. I found out the person who had brought the other pie was a very imposing lady from New York City, she was tall, with long waves of blonde hair, her name was Carolyn. She kind of reminded me of Blake Lively, but she was in her fifties, I think. She spoke just a little too loud for the environment, I don’t know if she was going deaf or if she was just used to people listening whenever she spoke. I never got a straight answer about what she did for a living (‘this and that, you know’) or where exactly she lived in New York (‘here and there, you know’) but she had an endless source of stories and anecdotes about her friends and Manhattan, none of which meant very much to me, to be honest. The only time I have visited America was to go to San Francisco, well, technically Silicon Valley, to do ‘Due Diligence’ on a potential partner company for the company that I was working for. Carolyn managed to get that story out of me. There was one comment she made, she said “Oh, that explains _soo_ much” when I said how I really like San Francisco, that I didn’t quite understand. But she seemed to be joking. She explained that her pie was a baked mascarpone cheesecake pumpkin pie. Whatever it was, it was rich and delicious. I think mine was a little better balanced between the sweetness and the flavour, but all the food was delicious. I decided early on in the evening that my diet was out of the window.
I tried to stick to soft drinks. I’m not great with social situations and I was so far out of my comfort zone. I wanted to leave myself the option of driving home if things got too boring or too uncomfortable.

But, as the evening went on, everyone was super nice. No one asked me the obvious question. Jenny asked me about my skirt at one point in the evening, but only to ask where I got it from.

We started playing games at about 10 pm, the kind that requires drinking. I gave up then and had a few drinks. The evening gets a bit blurry from around then. I know I got my smartphone out to take some pictures, but they are so blurry you couldn’t make them out, even if I did share them with you.

After about 11 pm people started leaving. I was waiting for Mark and Jenny to say let’s go, but they showed no signs of going. Eventually, it was just Kathryn, Ian, Mark, Jenny and me. It was about 11:30 pm or midnight when we finally left, Mark carried my case and Jenny hung onto my arm, I’m not sure if she was propping me up or I was propping her up, but she was only about 5’6” so I guess neither of us were doing a great job. Jenny was giggling and doing a stage whisper that was loud enough to set the dogs barking as we passed people’s houses. Mark was walking with quiet dignity. It wasn’t far to their house, they showed me to a guest bedroom, where I carefully got changed to go to sleep, taking off my makeup and wig carefully.

I went to sleep, smiling to myself at the sounds of drunken love-making in the room next door.