Cerridwen Circe Whitethorn's Debutante Ball
Part One of Three:
Princess Cerridwen Circe Whitethorn
I took a deep breath as I looked around me. I felt uneasy being here. Even though I'd been here before and I had my mom standing right beside me for all the emotional support I would ever need. As I released my deep breath and I closed my eyes and slowly I forced them open. This should be one of the best days in my life, the highlight of my teenage years, but once again my personal demons had decided to rear their heads and send me down into a downward spiral of self-doubting and depression. It was really silly of me, I'd made a ton of progress since I'd come out of the egg some three years ago.
When I hatched from the egg, that to say that I finally accepted that I was transgender. I was very unsure of myself and scared of my very own shadow. I was an outcast, I came from the wrong side of the railroad tracks. I was the new girl who appeared one gloomy afternoon wearing a second-hand school blouse and school skirt that my mother had bought for me from a school uniform resale shop. Everybody knew I was nothing more than a charity case. And nobody, mom, dad and teachers alike expected me to be able to handle the course work. I was trash and I belonged in the public school system.
But from those humble beginnings I'd grown. I had refused to let the bourgeois class of Benton to overlook me, to steamroll over me, to push me aside and forget about me. Yes, my dad had settled among the peasantry of Benton, among the poor field hands and day workers who had made their humble homesteads in hills that formed a half ring around the town. Who could not afford to settle in town. And yes, while my mom owned her own business and my dad made good money as a “Chemical-Man'', we still belonged firmly to the proletariat class as far as the rest of Benton was concerned. But I swore that would not hold me back!
“Honey?” Moms voice echoed loudly behind the door of the changing room. The sound of moms voice derailed the train of thought running through my head.
“Yes?” I said, turning my head so I could peer toward my mom who was holding up two formal gowns. Both were jeweled colored. The one in her right hand was a shimmering Blue Sapphire and the one in her left hand was a sparkling Emerald Green. Both gowns shimmered like the scales of some strange, yet colorful tropical fish.
“Which one would you like?” Mom said as she held up both formal gowns. She held the blue one a little higher. “Personally I think the Blue Sapphire dress would look really good on you. You have naturally black and curly hair like your mother and like your mother you have natural porcelain skin.” Mom then added. “It's also a strapless dress though so we'll need to get you a strapless bra and some fancy underwear. Well both of them are strapless.” Mom said with a heavy sigh.
“I think they're both sexy.” I said, smiling a little. “Plus. I think most prom dresses these days are strapless. They really show off a girl's shoulders. Plus I'll be wearing my hair up in a bun. So all attention will be focused on my face and bare shoulders. Plus, most of the attention will be on my cleavage.”
I noticed mom frowned a little
“You know, I'm not really keen on the idea that people will be looking at my daughter's cleavage.” She said in a matter of fact tone of voice. “But you have already worn a bunny girl suit to a local anime convention. And you were bone headed enough to wear a skimpy, barely covering anything at all bikini in a dunking booth at your school's annual fundraiser.” Mom said with another sigh. She then shook her head. “So I guess you're fine with it. I guess I'm fine with it too. I guess I'm just old fashioned.”
I smiled a little.
“You're not old fashioned mom, you're just not used to the world we live in now. I mean when you were a teenager in the early nineties, you guys still used land-line phones to talk to each other. I mean you were in college when MySpace came online. I mean your generation was lagging behind ours. When it comes to Social Media and stuff. But thankfully the Goddess saw fit to give you a teenage daughter, who is going to bring you up to speed and help you adjust to this brand new world.” I said smiling.
Mom looked like I struck her with an iron skillet.
“Plus consider this mom! It's been three and a half years since I cracked the egg. That to say it's been three and a half years since you discovered your son was really your daughter and I'd say you adjusted quite well.” I said grinning.
Mom gave me another wry smile and she then held the two dresses again.
“So, now we've gotten that out of our systems. Would you mind picking either one of these dresses? And remember young lady, I hold the power to veto your selection if you decided to out and pick one on your own. I would also like to know that these two frocks are the only ones that I have given my personal seal of approval to. So unless you feel like walking the three fourths of a mile to JCPenney from here, I'd suggest you go ahead and pick one of these. And remember too, it is my purse that covers the cost of the frocks, the strapless bra, the special underwear and the shoes. And the discount card in my name that helped derail the cost a little bit to keep your dad from having a stroke. Should you be foolish enough to choose to hike to J.C Penny and search for what you think would be a better frock, then the cost of the frock, bra, and shoes will come from your purse and your purse alone.”
I blinked and then I found myself blinking again.
:Mom, don't take this the wrong way. But I think you missed your one true calling in life.” I said as I eyed the blue dress she was holding in her hand.
“And just what do you mean by that young lady?” My mother said as she leaned in toward me.
“You should have gone to law school instead of beauty school!” I said holding my hands up in the air as if she shields me from some kind invisible blow. “Dear Goddess mom! You got me tied and tethered to the steak here!”
“I do have a law degree honey, I just never told you.” Mom said, smiling one of her smiles.
“Oh from where?” I asked as I mentally weighed the pros and the cons of each dress my mother was holding up in her hands.
“I have a law degree from the 'University of Motherhood'” Mom said smiling.
“I think I'll take the blue one.”
“Good choice.”
Mom then handed me the Sapphire Blue gown and smiled a little as she peered toward me. I felt myself starting to blush as I reached up and took the gown from my mothers hand. I then headed to the dressing room. “Thanks mom, for you know helping me decided.” I said as I peered toward her.
“That's what mothers are for!” Mom said, smiling as she turned around.
“Also hold tight, I'm going to go find you a strapless bra.” Mom said. “I have a pretty good idea of what size you're going to need. Plus you're going to need help putting that dress on as it zips up in the back.” And with that mom walked off. And I started to walk toward the changing room.
Now the changing room at Belk's and really all over the mall are kind of spooky if you ask me. The changing room is one really long hallway that is lined with doors and at the far end is kind of a special room where one can try on fancy frocks or gowns like mine and stand on a raised platform located in the middle. Old, retro looking mirrors form a circle around the raised platform in the middle. Mirrors form a circle around the raised platform and allow the person trying on the gown to view how the grown fits them from every possible angle.
Okay I should tell you what makes them kind of spooky to me, it is the vibe I get from being in one. I always feel like somebody's watching me, judging me when I enter into one. The lighting is poor too, with several of the overhead bulbs having been burned and never replaced, despite the staff swearing they just replaced them. Doors were known to open and close on their own. And one get a feeling that one is being watched whenever one steps into the cubical. And given the lack of foot traffic in the mall today, I knew it was changing rooms.
Once I settled on a cubical, I took a deep breath and started to peel away the layer of clothing. Starting with my violet colored hoodie and then my black, short sleeve blouse, and then off came my snickers and my socks, and finally my jet black skirt. And so there I stood there, facing the mirror in only violet colored bra and violet colored panties.
“I don't even look like a boy anymore.” I said, taking a deep breath as I peered toward my chest. For eighteen hellish months I'd struggled as I took dose after dose of HRT ( Hormone Replacement Therapy) that had caused a number of weird things to happen to me, that included sudden mood swings and moments of gushing emotions. All of this happened while my frail body struggled to adjust. The hormone blockers had later the HTR had been utter hell. But it was the utter rejection of my moms side of the family that had stung the most. My mom had come from a solid, and I mean a solid Eastern Orthodox Catholic Family. She had been walking on thin ice when she had rejected the teaching of the Eastern Orthodox Catholic Church in order to study magic. Though she had fallen through the ice the moment I'd come out as transgender and instead of shoving me out of the house and disowning me, as any good Eastern Orthodox Mother should, she had embraced me as her daughter.
My dad's family on the other hand, that to the Whitethorn family, had just shrugged their shoulders and held their hands up and accepted me. I lost myself in these thoughts, so lost in my own little musing that I did not even hear my mom pushing open the door to the changing room. Sure my dad's folks might have been hillbillies, poor dirt farmers, woodsmen, river rats. And sure they had more in common with Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn than most people in town. But for all their faults, they had simply accepted me for who I was. All two hundred of them. Save the ones resting under the Willow Trees. But they had passed from this world to the other.
“I had to jump through hoops to find a matching bra.” Mom said as she held a violet colored bra.
“How did you know what size bra to get?” I said blushing a little as I reached up and took the violet colored bra from hand.
“I'm your mother, I'm required to know these kinds of things.” Mom said, taking a deep breath.
With mom's help, I'd managed to get the bra on. This was after all the first time I'd worn a strapless bra and it felt a little weird.
“Mom does this changing room feel off to you?” I asked as I finally got the bra on and started to struggle with the dress. The dress was a little tight but otherwise it was a perfect fit. Mom said it was supposed to be a little tight otherwise it might slip down and expose my girls to the world.
“Oh you feel it too?” Mom said as she started to look around me.
“Yes..” I said shuttering a little.
“These changing rooms are haunted. And I'm not talking about human spirits.” Mom said, looking around. “These mirrors capture a lot of negative emotions. It's hard to put into words. But when you think of the thousands of people who have looked into these mirrors...” Mom paused and at that moment the door to the dressing room opened.
“...” I peered toward mom who just blinked and shrugged her shoulders.
A few minutes later the door of the changing room slammed shut! The echoing of the door slamming shut filled the dressing room and caused both me and mom to jump.
“Okay!” I said turning toward mom. “I'll take the blue dress.”
“Yes, I think we've overstayed our welcome!”
End of Chapter 2
Cerridwen Circe Whitethorn's Debutante Ball
Part Two of Three:
Vanishing My Own Shadow
My mother's maiden name, that to say the name she had before she had married my father had been Pandora Josephine Hamilton, now from the odd bits and pieces of information I've gathered from my mother, who has never really told me a lot about her family. Nor of her childhood for that matter, anyway according to her, her family belonged to the so-called “Aristocracy” of Jackson. My mother had been the second daughter born to Josephine Elizabeth Lee Hamilton and George Alexander Hamilton, and by a twist of fate had been the middle child. And from birth she had been something of a wild card.
Another fine bit of information I knew, was my mother had been reared from birth till the age fourteen in the fine traditions of the Eastern Orthodox Catholic Church and her family had taken a dim view of her taking up the study of the occult, they had also taken a dim view of her flunking out university and attending a trade school to learn the art of hairdressing. And they had also taken an even dimmer view of her marrying my father, a man who they considered well below her social standing. All of these things I thought, they could overlook. Indeed her mother had just heaved a heavy sigh and shook her head as my mother did each and every one of these things. But the straw that broke the horse's back was me coming out of the egg one dark, stormy night a few days before Halloween.
Now, the Hamilton family like most of the older, more wealthier Mississippian families stood firmly with the Republican Party. I think it kind of went with the teaching of the Eastern Orthodox Catholic Church. Both of those two groups of people hated people like me. Now, when I cracked out of the egg, my mom's so-called “Christian” family thought she would surely do what any good Eastern Orthodox Catholic mother would do. That is the first thing she would have done if she found her son wearing her newly brought sundress.
That to say, the first thing she would have done was slapped the ever loving shit out of me, and then marched out to the old willow tree and forced me to cut a switch, she would have then snatched the switch from my hand and then started thrashing the hell out of me with it. Once I was sobbing and crying she would have then told my dad, who would have taken off his big, broad leather work belt and started beating me with it, right across my backside, this would have beaten the “Devil” out of me. Once the “Devil” had been safely beaten out of me, she would finally give me a “Proper Haircut” that to say shaved bald or given a classic buzz cut. Once all that had been done, it would be off to some private Catholic boarding school that might have been located in the heart of the Smoky Mountains.
Possible one of the many hidden Jesuit run boot camps. One of those old fashion type schools where the monks were still allowed to beat the tar out of you. But instead of packing all my shit into a suitcase and sending me off to some Eastern Orthodox Catholic run Conversion Therapy Camp. Where I might have been given a good old fashioned ice-pick lobotomy, because you know many good, faithful Eastern Orthodox Catholic priests and many God fearing, Trump supporting, American Flag loving Republicans still see that as a magic cure-all for both homosexuality and transgenderism.
And if that failed to “Cure” me. The good doctors could always fall back on the always classic Electro Shock Therapy. Because why not? According the priest of my grandmothers church I was mentally unstable and also to rub salt in a open, bleeding flesh wound my mother also abusing me by letting 'dress-up' and 'play pretend',
All of these thoughts swirled through my head as I stepped out of the shower. It was just twelve o'clock, well twelve o' one by the clock in the hallway. So it was officially the afternoon. Now the event was not going to start till five this evening. But I felt it would take me a good five or so hours to get ready.
Once I reached my bedroom. I turned my ceiling fan and took a deep breath as I breathed in the cool air and I allowed the pink bath towel that I'd wrapped around my body to drop on the wooden floor. I had thought my Gender dysphoria was rough and from time to time he came back to sink its claws into my heart. But that was pocket change when I compared it to this bout of Imposter syndrome that I was going through. I felt like I'd been lying to myself for the last three years. When I looked into my floor length bedroom mirror I did not see a healthy, intellectual woman, who had pulled herself up the ladder of success by her own shoe strings. Who had refused to let life bowl her over.
Nope, instead I saw once more that scared little boy of thirteen, leaning once more over the old, rusting railing of Rebecca Road Bridge. I felt I was once more peering down into the currents of that dark swirling water, that violent rushing water, if the fall had not killed me, then I'm sure the roaring, rushing water would have forced me under and carried me away. Carried me straight into the main channel of the Big Black River where I'm sure a monster size catfish would have swallowed what remained of my lifeless body.
“NO!” I shouted as I stood up and turned briefly away from the mirror. I then decided to roll the dice and turn to face my own reflection, and by and large my own self doubts. I had to do this, it was now or never.
“Listen.” I started. “I'm not that scared thirteen year old anymore! I'm Cerridwen Circe Whitethorn! Daughter of Pandora Josephine Whitethorn and Rowan Willow Whitethorn!” I shouted toward my own reflection. “I'm one of the best cheerleaders at Benton Academy! I've somehow maintained a solid 'B' average so far! Despite my moms fucked up family saying I'll flunk out after my Freshman year! I'd successfully educated myself!” I shouted again to my own reflection.
And maybe it was my mind playing tricks on me, but my own reflection or the reflection in the mirror flinched. I'd known I'd not flinched. “I've battled bullies, who hate me because of who I am! I've battled the supernatural and won! And I'm going to make something of my life! I'm going to make something of myself!” I shouted a bit louder. My choice echoed and seemed to fill the small confines of my room.
And again I think my mind might have been playing tricks on me, because once more the reflection seemed to flinch. And oddly enough it seemed to be withdrawing, edging toward the border of the mirror. It seemed the more I shouted, the more it seemed to flinch, and the lesser it held on me seemed to be. And the more I felt myself returning to normal. Well, as normal as possible for a teenager, who also happens to transgender, and a witch to boot.
“So!” I shouted once more more. “Stop fucking with me! And just leave me the fuck alone! Like go back to whatever shadow world you live in!”
A moment later, my dad, still smelling of grease, oil, and looked tired as ever, popped his head into my room. I also noticed a look of sheer terror had been sketched into his face. And his normally suntanned face looked as pale as a sheet and white as flour. His brown eyes were as wide as saucer plates. And his fingernails, still caked with dirt, mud and grease, seemed to doing their best to dig their way through one side of my wooden door to the other.
“Everything okay here?” He asked as he peered toward me. I'm sure he was a little frightened and maybe a little concerned. And I'm sure above all else he was confused and maybe a tad bit afraid, My dad was not used to sudden and often violent outbursts of raw teenage emotions.
“I'm fine..” I paused and because I wanted to add a dramatic effect I added. “Daddy,” to the end of my sentence. I was not aware that at the time I was standing naked as the day I was born in the middle of my bedroom. And I mean naked, I was hiding nothing, not my breast or the pumping problem that still needed to be corrected or will be corrected as soon as I turned eighteen.
“That wonderful princess.” He said, his eyes still as wide as saucer plates and he still looked like he had just shaken hands with the devil himself. “I just got off work and I was heading to the shower. When I heard you screaming at the top of your lungs I thought I should come in and check on you.” He seemed to be shuttering a little.
“I'm fine daddy.” I said smiling the sweetest smile I could muster. “Just one of those random, often violent outburst of teenage emotions. Nothing to worry about.” I said smiling, extra sweetly.
Dad nodded his head and popped his head back into the hallway. And smiling to myself decided it was time to start getting ready. Soon, and I mean very soon I was going to set this town ablaze. Because tonight was my night. Tonight was the night, tonight was really the first night of my life. The last three years, I'd really been nothing but a wet clay pot in the kindle.