Diva Dismayed: Chapter 8 – Decision time
It was late when I got out of bed to start my day. That would be the last time I could so indulge myself. Tomorrow I would be a working ‘girl’. I discovered with pleasure that the shared bathroom on my landing had the luxury of a lock to the door which actually worked. I was relieved to learn that I would be able to make my ablutions there without fear of interruption. On this occasion I spent an inordinate amount of time in there on my make-up, hair and nails. I was looking forward to a day of doing whatever I fancied. Freedom!

I quietly let myself into Rachel’s apartment using a spare key. She and I had exchanged keys, one of hers for one of mine. The knowledge that I was now able to enter my guardian angel’s room unbidden at any time of day or night, just like family, felt comforting. She had suggested this arrangement herself and evidently shared the same feeling. That seemed surprising to me in someone so apparently mature and confident. Once inside, I could see that the door to her bedroom was ajar and that the drapes were still closed. I guessed that the occupant might be sound asleep after finishing her nightshift in the hospital. So with as little noise as possible I set about making toast and coffee.

Despite my precautions, however, after only a few minutes, Rachel joined me in the living room.

“Mmm. Something smells good” she murmured sleepily as she came up behind me and gave me a hug. The sensation of her shapely body being pressed against me provided me with another of those illicit thrills. It would have been delicious to reciprocate but I strove to ignore the temptation. She was my best friend, remember, and that was all.

Conquering my momentary embarrassment over my wayward thoughts, I turned to face my idol. “Breakfast’s nearly ready!”

“Oh goody, goody! I’m starving! Thank heaven that was the last time I’ll be on nights this month and…” she grabbed me and danced me round and round… “I don’t have to work now until Friday!”

Captivated by her childlike gaiety, I gave up trying to retain control of myself and squeezed her tightly to me. Thankfully the arousal that would have resulted was safely taped away and in any case would have been concealed under my dress. Those uncalled-for feelings might just remain hidden. With an effort I turned my attention to the food preparation once more. Minutes later we were seated at the table eating happily. After we’d breakfasted, I asked her what she thought I ought to do next. Although not always as clueless as this, I had come to depend on my resourceful friend’s ability to plan ahead. I was not disappointed now.

“Well, first of all you need to be ready to start your job. For instance it would be worth-while getting hold of a local bus timetable. How else will you get to work?”

That task was something I ought to be able to handle easily. Probably the drugstore would be sure to have one. Before the end of the day I was as ready as I could be, clothes newly laundered and laid out for my first morning. There was another question going round in my head which formed a large remaining cloud on my horizon. How was my fictitious status as a student to be resolved? It was essential to get enrolled, if I were to continue to rent my new home. When I mentioned this to her, Rachel was confident that it wouldn’t be an issue.

“The skin therapy course, as I understand, is a totally new one with quite an experimental set of topics for study. That means they’ll need to get the numbers up so it gets established in the curriculum. They’ll be crying out for attendees to fill up the classes. I’ll be amazed if you aren’t snapped up the minute you enquire about enrolling. Your new job at the beauty parlour and your past experience at Madeleine’s won’t do your chances any harm either.”

I didn’t quite share her confidence but in the event, Rachel’s estimation proved to be correct and no difficulties arose when I went along to apply. I was soon set fair to experience life as a college student that fall.

In the meantime, once I'd recovered from my unpromising first day at the beauty parlour I settled smoothly into the daily routine there. The work came easily to me, for under my parent’s tutelage I had become competent first with my own make-up, nails and hair, then my Saturday job developed my skills even further. To be engaged in a familiar occupation where I felt capable in what I was doing restored my self-confidence and the first two weeks went by without a hitch. At the end of that trial period, my place at the salon was made permanent.

The event which made the next significant change to my circumstances was the arrival of a steamer trunk. It was delivered at the end of my first week and contained a selection of my clothes and shoes from home. Rather incongruously I felt disappointed that Mom had packed only female items of clothing though upon reflection I had to admit that I no longer owned any boys’ stuff and none would have fitted me if I had. The delivery opened up the prospect of a wide range of possible outfits. Underwear too. My padded bosom could be returned to its ‘normal’ size, thankfully, and I need no longer be restricted to wearing those few items of Rachel’s which more or less had fitted me and which I now laundered and returned to her. I managed to scrape together enough cash to buy her a pretty bunch of flowers. I had so much to be grateful for and this was an opportunity to express my thanks.

As I unpacked I experienced a further disappointment. I could find nothing loose-fitting among my mother’s selection of dresses, skirts and pants. My new wardrobe consisted entirely of the sort of in-fashion items which depended on the wearer having a narrow waistline. Waist-training was a fundamental part of my feminising regime and one which I’d been hoping to dispense with. My mom had introduced this practice with the aim of giving an hour-glass shape to my figure and admittedly it had met with considerable success. Over the past year the discipline had included the wearing of a waist-cincher by day and a steel-boned corset by night. While I found the latter uncomfortable at first, continual practice made me so used to wearing one that sleeping without now felt strange.
Predictably my trunk of clothing included some of those waist-constricting items I had become all too familiar with. Even though I was now theoretically free of my parent’s control, I had to admit that my tight-lacing regime remained a necessity. That is, of course, unless I replaced most of the outfits I now possessed and I was aware that those purchases were well beyond my slender purse.

In consequence when getting ready for bed that evening I resumed my corset-wearing routine. Before I retired I gazed at my image resignedly. As expected it revealed that sought after hour-glass shape. The inescapable conclusion was that my lifestyle choices were narrower than I’d hoped or intended.

Earlier that same day Rachel had broached a related topic. “There’s another matter you need to consider. Those meds which you take each day must be running low. What are you going to do about getting more?”

“Oh, that’s all right. My dear mother thoughtfully included a further supply when she sent my clothes. Now as things stand I have enough for a couple of months.” After a pregnant pause I added tentatively, “I was thinking I might give them a miss.”

I’d made no secret of my desire to regain my male status to Rachel and she had been generally supportive. Now, however, my friend looked doubtful. “In that case there are some important choices which you should be weighing about your future. It’s complicated so first of all you ought to see a medical specialist. I know someone who works in the department of endocrine medicine at the hospital and they might help.” Seeing my blank look she put it in simple terms. “Hormones. I’ll try and pull a few strings and get you an appointment with a consultant in that field.”

In the days since I’d left home I’d made no alteration to the medication I’d been taking. Fortunately I’d had a small supply of pills in my purse to last me two or three weeks but as the number dwindled I had started to wonder what I ought to do about it. Mom had got them directly from the clinic where she worked and their precise nature had always been shrouded in mystery. To begin with she’d referred to them as vitamins. That was clearly untrue and even now I didn’t even know exactly what I’d been taking, although I understood some of their effects well enough. The original salmon coloured ones were evidently feminising hormones of a kind, and there was another pill with which I’d been prescribed more recently. The impact of this one was different but dramatic nonetheless. A review of all these meds was clearly overdue and it was very timely that my friend and mentor had raised the matter.

Just as she promised, within a few days Rachel had managed to arrange a consultation with a Doctor Beckwith for me. I’d have preferred her to come along too but she was working that morning so I entered his consulting room alone and with some trepidation. Not altogether logically I’d picked out one of my nicest dresses to wear, even though I guessed I would probably have to undress completely in front of the doctor at some point. Knowing that I was looking my best ought to boost my morale. On the short walk to the block where the doctor’s consulting room was situated doubts filled my mind. How girlie had my brain become these days to be so concerned with my appearance? I arrived early for the appointment but despite that I was shown straight in.

The physician was a tall man wearing spectacles. He had a short imperial beard and neatly arranged hair. I found his manner so disarming that when straightaway he asked me to undress, to comply with his request seemed completely natural. I didn’t even feel embarrassed when he produced a tape measure and motioned me to stand before him in complete nakedness. He first took a series of measurements of my chest, measuring under my bust, around the fullest part and its distance below my shoulder. He then progressed to a detailed inspection of what was below. In anticipation I had peeled off the usual controlling strips of surgical tape which I applied each morning. After the most thorough physical examination I was allowed to make myself decent again. Then he sat and, looking grave, indicated for me to sit in the chair opposite him.

“Now young er… lady. That is how you see yourself, I gather, er… Jennifer. You see yourself as a young woman.”

I nodded, but then after a moment added anxiously. “Well, I know I’m not really a girl. I didn’t start off that way. It’s just that now, well mostly I am like one and I live like one.”

“Yes, yes. Yours is a most unusual and interesting case. Perhaps not quite as rare as might be thought, but it may be that we don’t get to see too many similar ones. I understand you have been taking hormonal supplements for some time now?”

“For about two years.” I picked up my purse and took out my supply of pills. “My mother is a nurse and she had them prescribed for me.” I indicated the pink ones. “First of all I was just taking these, two every day and then after a few months the dose went up to three. I’m not sure why. Then a couple of months later I started on these.” I pointed to other ones. “One a day.”

Dr Beckwith picked the boxes up in turn and eyed them closely. He seemed quite excited and made some scribbled notes on a jotter. “I see. I see. That is quite a curious regimen. I don’t think I’ve seen anything documented about the probable effects on a person of your years. I would hazard that they are likely to be quite dramatic. Alongside these feminising hormones, this single pill is what is known as an anti-androgen. It effectively blocks the testosterone your body produces allowing the hormones to take their fullest effect.”

He referred to his notes. “Being subjected to this combination may go some way to account for your body’s shape. The development of your chest, and of your hips and upper thighs is uncommonly advanced and that might well be as expected. Your waist, however, is very small in relation to your torso. Tell me, how long has the proportion been that way?”

I explained how in recent years I’d been practicing waist-training both in the daytime and at night. “It all started when I was being got ready for my fifteenth birthday celebration and that turned into quite a big occasion. It was important that I wear a special dress, which I could only just fit into. There were exercises which I started doing too to help tone up my shape. I’ve continued with the whole rigmarole pretty much ever since.”

“Was this your own idea, or someone else’s?”

I shrugged. “My mom’s mostly, and she was so pleased with how well it all had worked that she made me see that it would be a shame to stop and lose all the benefit. So I went along with what she said. I didn’t like the idea at first but I got used to it quite quickly. It helps my confidence to know I look like an attractive girl. That sounds very vain, but I like being admired, I guess, and I think the shape of my figure makes it less likely anyone would suspect what I really am; anyone that didn’t know, I mean.”

The doctor regarded me solemnly for the space of several minutes. I began to feel quite anxious. This couldn’t be good.

When he spoke, however, his words were reassuring. “Well er… Jennifer. First of all, you are a very healthy young… er… person. Although your body shape is quite… unusual, I can comprehend how it has developed the way it has. I imagine however that one of the other effects of these hormones may be that your response to sexual stimuli will be quite limited. Your genitalia are under-developed and any erections you experience are likely to be fairly insignificant.”

His tone was matter of fact but I blushed to the roots of my hair at hearing his analysis. I only hesitantly agreed, thinking of… well… of the effect Rachel’s proximity sometimes had on me. “Usually, yes. Not always, but usually.”

He continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “The question to be addressed now is, how do you want to proceed going forward? Do you wish to continue with these medications or not? You need to understand that some of your bodily developments might be reversible, but others almost certainly won’t be. For instance, these” he indicated my well-developed breasts, “are here to stay, barring surgical removal, of course. Their presence will mean that to try and live a full life as a man might be difficult for you.”

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

He paused to let his words sink in before resuming. “Other than trying to do that, there are two practicable alternatives, as I see it. You may wish to continue along the path on which you are now embarked. If so, then I can prescribe the appropriate drugs without any alteration. The other choice would be an intermediate course of action. This would entail the reduction of your daily hormonal intake and discontinuing the androgen blocker. You can think of it as a sort of maintenance regime, where your body will appear essentially feminine as it is now, but you may regain some sexual potency.”
Dr Beckwith took up his pad and a pen. “I will write you a full prescription when you decide which of these courses of treatment to follow, in your own good time of course. I may also consult a colleague.”

He stopped. “The frontiers of medicine are constantly advancing. Before many months, there may be yet another option to think about. In recent years a French gynaecologist has reportedly had some success performing surgery which enables the patient’s gender to be, as it were, reassigned. The man’s body in these cases would then outwardly resemble that of a woman in every detail. On this side of the Atlantic it is still early days, but the possibility will arise that at some point in the future you could live fully the life of a woman, if you so choose. Oh, child-bearing excepted, of course.”

“If you think you may want to consider going down that road, you should keep all options open. I conclude your best course of action to be for your prescription to remain unchanged at least for the next two years or so. Then after your body has stopped growing, switching to the maintenance regime would then serve you equally well.”

My head was spinning too fast in trying to take in all this information. I didn’t know how to make any response.

He gave a wry smile as he handed me his card to indicate our interview was at an end. “There’s plenty for you to consider. Let me know your decision by the end of the week. In the meantime, good luck!”

I did a lot of considering on the way back to my apartment. There was much too much to think about, but walking briskly helped me come to some conclusions. If the doctor was to be believed, there was no workable choice but to continue as a female for now. The possibility of regaining my masculinity in the near future had been denied to me, apparently, and I ought to feel devastated, but I actually felt okay about it. I had to admit to myself that I enjoyed some parts of life as a girl. Having a body that I’d been told was attractive was one such aspect. With the optimism of youth I entertained a vague hope that perhaps when medical science had advanced further then I would be able to return to my male self someday. Who knew when, however?

What I wasn’t happy about was that though I found girls and women attractive, my body was unable to do anything much about it. Perhaps Dr Beckwith’s intermediate option might provide a solution to that particular problem. That way I might be able to retain my current girly shape and fulfil a relationship at the same time. I decided there and then that the maintenance regime was worth a try. But when? Right now, or should I wait a couple of years as the doctor had suggested? Probably that. Having reached that conclusion, I decided that if I had to be a girl in the meantime, then I should aim to be the girliest girl I could be.

What was still disturbing to me was the way my body sometimes reacted to ‘stimuli’ in the shape of other boys, or even men. That wasn’t something I wished for, but it seemed to be beyond my control. I guessed that it might be the meds that were the cause of this. My head craved one thing and my body another. The good doctor hadn’t had anything to say on that subject, unfortunately.

Just then my reverie was interrupted by my name being called. I became aware that someone had repeatedly tried to attract my attention but I’d been too deep in thought to respond. “Hi Jennifer!”

I turned to see it was none other than my new friend Harvey. He was seated in the cab of his red pickup with his characteristic broad grin on his face. The vehicle was parked up in front of a laundry building.

“I’m just about to get some of my rounds done” he explained. “Can I give you a ride anywhere?”

“Thanks, but not this time” I declined. “I’ve been having a pleasant walk. It helps when you’ve a lot on your mind.”

“Well then I’ll walk with you, if that’s okay. I don’t need to start work for another half-hour.”

I smiled my acceptance. It would be good to take a break from turning the doctor’s words over and over in my mind and Harvey’s company would provide a pleasant distraction. I resumed my progress with my new escort in attendance. It was strange but to have the company of a good looking young man felt somehow nice. It wasn’t that I was attracted to him, of course. How could I be? I mean, really!

Next thing I knew was that my hand accidentally brushed against his as we strolled along. Instinctively I pulled it away out of reach. How had that happened?! What if he thought I was flirting and inviting him to hold hands with me? Which I didn’t, of course. Though it would have been okay I guess, no big deal. Anyway he didn’t take me up on the offer, which wasn’t an offer, thank goodness, and I wasn’t disappointed. Well perhaps just a teeny bit. I expected that he might have wanted to hold my hand. Surely I didn’t look that bad. What am I thinking? I needed to stop this train of thought right there!

To ensure we were on the right footing, whatever that might be, I told my new friend how it was good to have some company in a town I didn’t know.

He became very serious, “I think it matters too. This neighbourhood is okay, but there are one or two areas in town that a pretty girl really shouldn’t go walking in, on her own. You will be safe with me of course.”

I thanked my self-styled protector smilingly, and actually I did feel more at ease. And he’d called me pretty! Which naturally didn’t matter to me in the least. Oh, don’t start all that again!

Harvey’s next words helped me get my head together. “You’re all dressed up today. Is that for a special occasion? Don’t say it’s your birthday and I didn’t know.”

I laughed and denied it. “No, that was a month or so ago. I had a doctor’s appointment, just girl stuff, you know. It helps me feel more confident if I know I look okay.”

“You look more than okay! I would have you down as one snappy dresser. Every time I’ve met you, you’ve been wearing something pretty.”

Then thinking of the last occasion we met and my scanty attire that time, he blushed bright red. “Oh, I meant your dresses, not what you wear underneath… Though that’s nice too, of course, well more than nice… er… I mean… ”

“Keep digging” I laughed.

The boy’s confusion was palpable and seeing his discomfort I became so overcome with mirth that I forgot to be embarrassed myself. When he realised I’d seen the funny side of his comment, he looked mightily relieved and joined in my laughter.

When we’d recovered our composure there was an awkward pause. It was clear that a safer topic needed to be broached, but my mind was a complete blank.

“So,” my companion inquired eventually, “what made you decide to come all the way to live over here, if you don’t mind my asking? It’s a big step for someone so young.”

I liked Harvey a lot but saw no advantage in giving out too much information to anyone. I kept to a safe minimum. “Oh, I’m enrolled on a course at the faculty. Skin therapy. It’s new and sounds really interesting. I can’t wait to start.”

“Don’t you miss your folks? I know I would.”

“My friend Rachel is staying here so that makes up for being away from home. I’ve known her since I was this high. She used to babysit me! What with my job and with settling in, I’ve been too busy to miss anyone.”

He looked his interest so I continued “I’m working at a beauty parlour downtown. Back home I used to do that part time to earn some cash, so I’ve got some useful experience. It chimes in with what I’ll be studying too. The salon’s very busy. I don’t get a minute while I’m there. The supervisor is a bit of a stickler, but the other girls are really nice and the lady that owns the place too. I’ve really fallen on my feet, getting a place there.”

While we talked I was intrigued to see a look on Harvey’s face that smacked of admiration. Yes, that was it, admiration. We fell silent for a moment. His next words proved to be a confirmation of my surmise. “You’re quite a gal, you know!”

I resisted uttering the exclamation “You have no idea!” which came unbidden into my head. I hoped I hadn’t been building myself up too much. I didn’t know how to respond. If he only knew the sort of ‘gal’ he was with, he might feel differently. Just then we reached my apartment block, and we took leave of each other. I thanked him over again for his kindness in going so far out of his way, but he shrugged it off with his characteristic grin. “See you soon, Jennifer.”

I smiled shyly and nodded.

Harvey hesitated. Then he came out with what I’d been dreading, or hoping for, I wasn’t sure which. “Say, can we grab a coke some time, or a coffee, maybe...?”

“I’d like that.” The words came out before I knew it. “But I’m paying, okay?” I added hastily. That stopped it being a date, didn’t it? I think it did.

“Sure thing!” he grinned back at me, and then he was gone.

For some reason I felt like singing as I ran happily up the stairs to my room. Once inside I threw my purse down on a chair and danced round and around. Well it was so good to have made a friend. Why shouldn’t I feel happy?!