I guess there's something I should explain about myself - the real reason why I was Ms Ramsey's first choice for the show. To put it all in one sentence, I look like a girl. Face, figure, everything.

It has something do with my endocrine system. My body doesn't produce much testosterone, though it appears to churn out one hell of a lot of estrogen. My doctor once told me that the whole thing could be traced back to pollutants in the environment; chemicals like DDT which act like artificial hormones.

Apparently, my genetic structure was altered before I was even born, so I've always had a rather feminine appearance. People often mistook me for a girl in faded jeans and a denim jacket, particularly since I started growing my hair long.

As you can imagine, I took a lot of good-natured ragging from the guys at school over the years, but it never really amounted to much. You tend to develop a thick skin after a while, and I learned how to rank my buddies with the best of them, even after Mrs Ramsey decided I was going to flash my underwear before the entire town. There was a couple of weeks where I thought I'd go crazy listening to all the cheap shots and wisecracks, but then the rehearsals started in earnest and things started to settle down.

Well, almost.

I took a few extra classes in dance and movement, learning a Moulin Rouge routine complete with high kicks, cartwheels, handstands and flip-flops. My solo was supposed to last around three minutes, which is a heck of a long time to hold a crowd's attention. If you've ever had any formal training, you'll know how much work is involved in the preparation beforehand. You need literally hundreds of hours of drills and repetition to get it perfect, and the cancan is a notoriously complex dance. Still, I was already pretty advanced, so the choreography didn't phase me.

During the second week of rehearsals, Mrs Ramsey took me aside and gave me a bulky package emblazoned with the words Chamberlain Dancewear and Accessories. I knew what it contained as soon as I saw the logo, and felt my face turning red as she placed it in my hands. Visions of French lace started dancing through my head.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to make you try it on right now," Mrs Ramsey said, reading my expression with a teacher's all-seeing eye, "take it home this evening and see how it fits. There are a few items in there you'll need to get accustomed to, so you might want to start practicing in full costume from now on."

I didn't quite understand what she thought I'd have to get 'accustomed' to, but her words peaked my curiosity. The package was soft but surprisingly heavy as I shifted it under one arm. I shot Mrs Ramsey a questioning glance, wondering what I was going to find when I got home. She indulged me with a faintly amused smile.

"Women's underwear," she answered before I could ask, "it's a little more complicated than what boys usually wear. You might need your Mother around to give you a hand when you try it on."
I flinched at the image, opening my mouth to protest, but realized she was probably right.

"It won't be anywhere near as bad as you think," Mrs Ramsey said in reply to my unspoken question. She turned around and walked back into the auditorium, leaving me standing alone in the corridor. I'd need my Mother to zip me up into a dress!! How would I ever live this one down?

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