Not sure whether I should continue this one, it's been on my computer for a couple of years. Let me know if you think it's worth finishing.
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Crazy Daisy.
By Angharad.
"You're a crazy daisy," my father's favourite expression to me, he said it so often I almost thought it was my name, then it became my nickname. My friends and my sister used to call me Daisy or Dais for short. While I was in junior school it wasn't a problem but in high school it was an embarrassment which was quickly pounced upon by the bullies and other predatory types, not helped by my long blond hair and my less than imposing stature. But I was fast and agile and my love of ballet, yes, ballet, made stand out from the crowd.
It was my sister's fault, we're heterozygous twins, which means we're not identical, but you wouldn't know it, because we're so similar. I am possibly a centimetre taller, she is about fifteen minutes older, so she is always pulling rank on me. Her name is Isabel shortened to Izzy or Belle depending on my mood, mine is David but we all know what they call me, which became worse when it was leaked that I did ballet. It was assumed that I was gay, which isn't so, least I don't think so, but I enjoy the balance and physical effort involved.
It all started because Izzy wanted to do ballet having seen Margot Fonteyn or Darcey Bussell on documentary about dance. She was blown away by the elegance and poise of the ballerinas and when I saw the athleticism of the male dancers, leaping about the place as if they were on springs I was impressed. Izzy would go without me and she kept on at Mum until I was conned into going as well to keep her company. Mind you it took the promise of a new bicycle on our birthday to get enrolled in Madame Le Croix's Ballet School. We were six years old at the time and I think Mum must have been distracted at the time because she signed us in as Belle and Daisy.
I didn't know how to put it right, I was often called Daisy at home and by my close friends that I assumed it was a boy's name, I was wrong. So for two years I learned the same moves, steps and exercises as Belle. We even wore the same things with white or pink leotards and even tutus. It was the latter which eventually gave me away, class overran one day and my mother wanted to know why I had my hair tied back and was wearing a tutu.
"Why is David wearing a tutu?"
"David? We thought her name was Daisy?"
"No, it's definitely David."
"Well, our registration forms say Izzy and Daisy and you completed them." She blushed at her mistake. "Anyway she's signed up for the rest of the course, so you might as well let her stay."
They called me over and I skipped over to them like a little girl, "Daisy are you happy doing ballet?"
"Yes," I replied, "I like doing it the same as Izzy."
"Even though you're dancing a girl's part?" asked my mother.
"She doesn't look big enough to do the boy stuff."
"He is rather slight for a boy," admitted my mother.
I blushed but admitted that I liked it. We were only doing the basics, learning steps and poses, it hadn't occurred to me that boys did different things, though I was wondering when we'd do the flying leaps and things, I assumed we had to build up to them and I was enjoying it all anyway.
It was agreed that I would continue as I was for the moment unless either my fellow ballerinas objected or I did. In which case, they'd split us up and Izzy didn't want that, nor did I really.
So it continued and as none of the other girls objected I carried on my training as a ballerina and learning to act like a girl to enable me to continue going to ballet class. Izzy was abetting me as she wanted me to accompany her although it became clear that I was getting more out of it and it was me who ended up with a solo spot at their next show, Izzy just danced as a part of the chorus.
Mum wasn't sure of dancing en pointe but I managed to do it without damaging myself and became one of only three girls in the class who could. As the class went on, most of the others thought I was called Daisy so that was the name I adopted. I stayed smaller than most of the boys of my age in school but about the same as Izzy although she caught me up height-wise and even grew taller.
I managed to keep flexible and could do the splits and also raise my leg up to my shoulder while standing on the other leg. It was suggested it was because of all the flexibility training we did on a regular basis. Because other boys meant either bullies or thieves, I tended to limit much of my social interaction to other girls, I suppose I thought of myself as one especially when dancing, and I probably resembled them more than I did most of the boys in school, not helped by my gender ambiguous clothing. Izzy and I swapped clothes on a regular basis, particularly things like leggings, tops and shorts in nicer weather. I looked as much like a girl as she did and she seemed to enjoys us looking so similar.
I had no need of football or other rough games as I got more exercise doing my ballet training than the would-be jocks anyway and I was more lithe and flexible than that collection of meat-heads. As junior progressed beyond the earlier stages and on towards middle school, our headmistress Mrs Dorian became worried for my future. I was oblivious looking like my sister and dressing the same and my parents also seemed unaware of how things would change in a year or two and seeing as I seemed happy as long as I had my sister and my ballet, I didn't foresee the imminent changes coming.
My father had been concerned at first but he was an internationally recognised orchestra conductor, so he wasn't there much of the time, flitting around the world with Tchaikovsky or Mozart. The onus for our upbringing fell upon my mother, who was, I would eventually understand was described as a flake, a really lovely person, but largely ineffective as a parent. She supported us both as ballerinas despite my being a boy and because we weren't causing a fuss, she immersed herself in her painting - she was an artist with a growing reputation for watercolour paintings, which included portraits, landscapes and some seascapes. We lived near the sea in a big house that overlooked the channel, the large conservatory was her studio and she spent more time in there than in the house.
We had a housekeeper, Doris Pettigrew, who was also an unofficial nanny, who I suppose raised us, and treated us as two girls. She was a ballet enthusiast herself and encouraged us in our training, and took us and collected us from classes three times a week. She called me Daisy and my sister Izzy, and I was very fond of her and she us. I mean, I loved my mother too, so did Izz but we looked to 'Auntie' Doris to sort out anything we needed. Did I say she lived with us? Well she did, so she was always there for us.
I think this is as far as I can go with this as I don't have a dance background and without some ballet jargon, it's all going to look rather amateur. Thank you to all who asked me to continue, which I have done, I hope you enjoy.
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Crazy Daisy (2).
By Angharad.
I told you about our love of ballet, that is Izzy and me and that they all thought I was a girl and surprisingly, I seemed better at it than my twin sister, who was happy to dance in the chorus while I got chosen for more solo roles. Of course, my parents allowed me to carry on as a ballerina and rather androgynous boy, which swapping clothes with my sister sort of encouraged. The consequence of it all was that the girls welcomed me as one of their own and the boys seemed to forget my real name was David not Daisy.
At Christmas the ballet school wanted to put on a show and wrote to Mum asking if we could take part, that is both of us, it included bits from the Nutcracker, the Christmas ballet. Of course she said yes, encouraged by Auntie Doris and she even said she would come and watch us. Because she hadn't exactly kept up with the ballet class, being more fond of her painting, than parenting and my dad was off in Europe somewhere bashing Beethoven or something similar, so Auntie Doris was the go to person, and as my mum had said yes and to get her a ticket, Doris told the ballet school that we were fine to proceed. Obviously we couldn't perform the whole ballet, it takes a full company to do that but we could perform bits of it. We were told that plans would be revealed at our next class, but we got Mum's ticket or a promise of one, so all the boxes were effectively ticked and on the way home we tried to work out which dances they would do, like the Dance of the flowers, or the Chinese dance. We both decided that whatever we did we'd enjoy it.
Our next lesson was next week, it being the weekend and nearly all our conversations were about what parts would be available, we agreed that most of the solo spots would go to the older girls who were more experienced, and thus better dancers, but the chorus was fine and we might get some understudy parts as well, that was how I'd danced solo in the first place, being an understudy for a bit of Copelia we did and Susan Jameson wasn't able to take part, so I covered for her and apparently was told quietly that I was better on the night. Izzy had no aspirations, she enjoyed the chorus but I was wondering if a solo cover could happen again. Sue wasn't in the school anymore, so it wouldn't be her.
At school, because I was increasingly seen as a girl, it wasn't such a hot topic and the boys usually left me alone. I remember one of the few incidents that arose because of my dancing. A boy who probably had family issues picked on me as I was demonstrating a dance move to one of the girls who didn't seem to be able to learn it I had and was trying to show her where she was going wrong and Peter Smith told me I looked like a poofter. His opinion wasn't of any import to me and I ignored him. He began pushing me and the momentum from his shove, I turned into a dance movement, twirling away with lots of flourishes of my hands and arms. Of course, he was looking for someone to start a fight with, I was available and very girly, so was a suitable target for him to beat and restore his self-confidence as a boy. Except it didn't quite work out that way. It's almost a universal law, that if you want to beat someone in a fight you have to either bash them or browbeat them into submission. I hadn't allowed the latter and so far he hadn't hit me, but it wasn't through lack of trying. His moves were rather obvious and as he swung at me I just leant out of the way, the ballet had made me more agile., and he just kept punching the air, he was also getting very exasperated and noisy. It attracted a teacher who saw him attempting to make contact with my face or body with his swinging fists and who interrupted the event, laughing at his pathetic attempts to hit a girl.
He was marched off to the headmistress and I was congratulated on my ability to bend my body out of his way and stay balanced. My friend got the idea of the dance move I had been trying to show her and I was still in one piece. At the end, I was showing off a bit, when I managed to balance on one leg and move the other up to the side of my face. One of the boys who'd been watching Peter Smith's antics in trying to hit me, remarked that I could have stood still and kicked him in the face and he'd have lost big time. I had to admit to Izzy that the thought of hitting or kicking him hadn't entered my mind. Girls don't fight and I considered I was girl, if not officially, then unofficially.
The parts were given to us and to my delight I was understudy to Zoe Feltz who was dancing bits of Clara, it doesn't come much better than that. I wasn't even ten years old and I was dancing understudy for the lead female part. It meant that I had to work extra hard to make sure I could do it all and apart from difficulty it required extra stamina because she was dancing nonstop for over five minutes which takes lots of energy and strength, she was dancing in a dress so I had to have one as well, in a smaller size.
I did wonder if there was something wrong with me because I wasn't much taller than Izzy and boys are usually bigger than girls, except I know I preferred to be a girl, because I'd be too small for a male ballet dancer and probably not strong enough to lift a ballerina unless she was about three years old and only weighed a couple of kilos, as they don't exist I'll stick with performing as a ballerina with which I am having so much fun and enjoyment.
Peter Smith was sent to apologise to me and I told him it was all right that he couldn't hit the skin off a rice pudding, let alone a girl. I could see that he was still ready to have a go at me so I stood on one leg and raised the other up near my shoulder and he saw the implications if he started anything again, he ran off muttering some sort of insult as he went. He ran smack into Izzy, yelled and ran off from her, she was completely baffled by his action until she spoke to me and I said he had tried to attack me earlier and failed. I did my pose again on one leg and she laughed.
We finished school about ten days before Christmas but then it was practice every day, which was made more difficult by a small fall of snow which made everything slippery underfoot. Daddy's plane from wherever was delayed by two days. Mummy was very busy trying to finish a painting that someone commissioned for a Christmas present so we hardly saw her, Auntie Doris was busy trying to prepare us for Christmas and we were just looking forward to the show. Except my understudy role, I also had to learn the chorus parts I was involved in, the Chinese dance and the dance of the flowers, both of which were quite demanding and needed everyone to know the choreography, some were better than others.
We only did a light practice at the barre the day before and Madame came to see me as we finished, just be ready for tomorrow, it looks like Zoe has Covid, she'll do her best to come but be prepared as her understudy to go on instead. I saw the dress hanging up and could almost feel it on my body. Tomorrow now became much more serious. Daddy was due into this country tomorrow morning, he'd seen us both dance in the chorus but I so wanted he and Mum to see me do a solo part and I just hoped he'd make it back home.
The next day it was all go. I told no one that I might be soloing again in case Zoe recovered but when we got there for the performance, Madame told me she wasn't coming so I was on instead. Being young, it doesn't occur to you that failure is an option. I had practiced the part so many times, I felt I could do it in my sleep, my one worry was that I'd drop the nutcracker toy and break it. I also felt I needed to help in my two chorus dances, but Madame told me to see how I felt after my Clara's dance and I thought apart from sweaty and zinging, I'd be fine.
I pulled on the dress and minutes later I was on, and Mummy and Daddy were in the audience, my wishes had been granted and I put extra effort into everything. Seeing as things were still frozen up we had a good audience and I was told the local paper would be covering it. So I could be written about in the press. I didn't think about my history one bit, I just wanted to see my name in print, it would probably be the first and last time.
I gave my 'Clara' everything and it went perfectly. It was the starring role for the whole show and I had to quickly change a couple of times to help my chorus group with their dances, both of which featured Izzy, so for my parents to see us both was such a treat for both of us. Then I had to slip the Clara dress back on to take my curtain calls. I was given a bouquet and did a very deep curtsey in receiving them, my dad had taken several photos and my mum told me she would choose one and paint a picture of both of us, we were both delighted at this and smiled huge beaming grins at everyone.
As we went back to the changing rooms, I had some wet wipes and a towel in my bag, Madame told us to both hurry because she had someone she wanted us and our parents to meet. I thought she meant the newspaper man, but she didn't. She came to hurry me up as I was putting my warm skirt and top on with my knee length boots and even helped me with my coat, then she hustled me out to the auditorium where there were still quite a few people lingering or talking in small groups.
I dashed out and hugged my parents who congratulated me on my dancing and Daddy patted his camera and said he thought he had some good photos of us both. Izzy was hanging on his arm and he was ruffling her hair. Just then Madame appeared with a lovely looking lady who was wearing a fur coat. "May I introduce Olga Smirnova who runs the juvenile section of the Royal Ballet School," she shook hands with my parents. She recognised my dad who is quite famous as a conductor and they spoke for a few minutes. Suddenly she put an arm around me, told my parents she was most impressed by my dancing and then dropped the bombshell that she'd like me to accept a scholarship to the school to train as a ballerina. I nearly fainted, my dream come true and I jumped up and down pulling at my parent's sleeves for them to say it was okay. They both gave plenty of smiles and said they would seriously consider it. A little later we went back to the car with me fretting that they wouldn't allow me to go to the school and I was quite sullen as I sat in the car seat glowering at my parents.
My dad saw my expression and addressed me, with a kind but serious look on his face. "Look, Daisy, be satisfied that they were all impressed with your dancing, as we all were and we shall talk to Olga after Christmas."
"You're not going to let me go are you?" I pouted back.
"Remember there is just the little problem that you are a boy despite us letting you live as a girl. I don't think we can do anything until we speak to the doctor and see what our options are, but I hate to see you get your hopes up and then for them to be dashed because they may not want to take you once they find out, which would be very sad but quite possible. Let's just have a family Christmas, enjoy ourselves and I'll speak to Dr Johnson once it's all over, Okay?"
I pouted again but when he smiled at me I smiled back, it was lovely to have him home for the holiday and whatever happened, Mummy was going to paint us dancing. I smiled again at that. He turned around and started the car and we went home.
I had several messages to continue this story so here is another episode, I hope you like it.
Crazy Daisy (3).
By Angharad.
Christmas was lovely and we both got lots of things, including makeup and dresses. My parents had almost forgotten I was a boy, so I thought and was quite happy with that. A few days after Christmas My dad dragged me off with him which was unusual, Izzy and I always went everywhere together but this day we separated. I asked my father what was happening and he said I'd find out in a little while. we drove to the doctor's surgery and he made me sit close to him and keep still. I told him I wasn't ill so why were we here? "You should be bigger than you are, Izzy is taller than you." I told him I knew but I was the better dancer. "Okay, okay we all know that and you demonstrated that the other night. No one would argue that for your age you are a very good ballerina, but remember, you are a boy and except when Matthew Bourne does something different, there isn't much call for male ballerinas."
I felt very misunderstood and stayed silent thereafter until called by the doctor. We didn't have long to wait, and Dr Johnson was a nice, older man. He knew I was dressing as a girl and did ballet. "I saw you do the Nutcracker stuff at your ballet school and very good it was at short notice." I smiled at that, "they still calling you Daisy?"
"Yes doctor, I'm quite enjoying myself."
"That's good," he replied, "Now if only the rest of my patients were as obliging, I'd only have work half as hard."
"Why is she here, Michael?" he turned his attention to my dad.
"Look, Daisy isn't a properly developing boy, she's smaller than Izzy. She seems fit enough, possibly underweight but we know she watches her intake so she doesn't put on weight. I don't think there's much doubt that she is transgendered, she's lived as a girl for about four years and hardly anyone notices, the thing is she's been offered a place at the Royal Ballet School but they don't know the state of play, if you see what I mean."
"That's a bit of a complication, you knew that one day you'd have to grasp this straw, and it looks as if that day has come."
"I know she'd love to go to the school, except she'd have to leave Izzy, it would be the first time in her life. That's going to be traumatic enough when they realise they're going to be separated if it happens."
"I see, what do you want me to do?" asked the doctor.
"I want to find out if they accept transgender pupils."
"And..."
"I need to get a referral to some sort of expert and get her on some sort of programme. Could you help, we'll have to go privately because time is quite a factor."
"Ahh, right, I only know one paediatric psychiatrist with anything like the skill you want. I call her later and get you an appointment asap."
"Brilliant, I knew you'd help, Steve."
"I'm rather fond of the girls, although I don't see them very often, last time was Izzy had hurt her ankle, but they seem extremely fit."
We left the doctor's and called home to collect Izzy and Daddy took us for a visit to the park to feed the ducks, who discovering we had proper duck food not horrible bread, swarmed all over us. I think Daddy even took a photo of a duck standing on Izzy's head. We had a great time. Later, after lunch when Doris did us a lovely pie with salad, Izzy asked me where I'd gone. I told her, the significance of the event was a bit beyond my ballet saturated mind.
That night Daddy had a call from the doctor and he wrote something in his diary ,and thanked the doctor for his help. I heard the phone ring but didn't understand what was going on. Then two days later I was rushed in the shower by Doris and dressed in my warm leggings, knee boots and one of my new tops, a warm acrylic one. After I'd eaten breakfast, a woolly had was shoved on my head, and my down coat and gloves were barely on, and Daddy was dragging me off somewhere else. I asked him where we were going but he just evaded my questions only telling me I'd see in a short time.
We met a nice lady doctor, called Dr Pauline McWhirter, she was quite old but not as old as Daddy, who's ancient, at least forty. Alas, she wanted some of my blood, our doctor had taken some a few days ago but she said she wanted to check something.
"Tell me Daisy, why do you want to be a boy?" golly, didn't that confuse me.
"I don't, I want to be a girl forever, I want to be a ballet dancer, a ballerina."
"I think you have got the wrong end of the stick, Dr McWhirter, Daisy is actually a biological male but she has lived as female with her twin sister for the last four or so years. I think she's transgender, potty about ballet and wants to live as a girl. She has a chance to go to the Royal Ballet School though that may yet be in vain as her gender thing may prevent that. We'd like you to confirm the diagnosis and act as our medical expert."
The doctor blushed and within a few minutes she understood what was what. "These blood results are crazy, hence my wanting another set to confirm them. This child has virtually no testosterone in her, but about the same amount as girl of the same age. I'd like to send you to a colleague for further blood tests and DNA, until we have that data, I can't make a diagnosis, but I'd say there is good chance of her being intersexed, which opens a whole new ballgame. If that is the case, I think the school would have to accept her. She has a penis, I take it?"
"Yes, but it's quite insignificant." She asked to see it and told me I was a good girl and apologised for messing my clothing around.
"How come you or your wife hadn't noticed, I presume this has been going on for some time?"
"I'm hardly ever there and my wife is an artist with a growing reputation, so child care usually falls on our nanny/housekeeper. We're too busy for kids really but we do love them and I like to spend time with them when we can."
"Mum's gonna paint me dancing with Izzy."
"That should be nice, you'll have to take photo and bring it to me to see," said the doctor.
"When do you want me to see your colleague?" Daddy asked, Dr McWhirter spoke into her phone and "He can see you in about fifteen minutes, he's just in the next block." She handed him a paper with the new doctor's name and address and we were off again.
Daddy told me they'd probably want some more blood to do more tests and he was very proud of me being such a brave girl. I smiled and puffed out my chest, I liked it when Daddy was pleased with me.
The new doctor was a man, a cronolist or something. He took some more blood and also rubbed a stick think around my mouth and popped it in a plastic tube and shut the lid. "Not on a period is she?"
"She a boy," said my father sounding just a little peeved.
"Oh," he looked at the blood results that Pauline had sent over to him, "so she is, it's just that her iron levels are a little bit low like a girl on her menses." He studied the results, she's got virtually no testosterone in her. You sure she's a boy?"
He had to have a look at me down below as well and looked up shaking his head spoke to my dad, "I don't think that's grown for quite a while, which it wouldn't if there was no testosterone. I can't find any testes, no surprise there. When I get the blood results back I'll know better, but I think you're looking at the diagnosis of intersex."
"What's the prognosis?" my father asked.
"We'll know more when the results come back including the DNA sample but she's either a girl with a sealed vaginal opening and hypertrophied clitoris, or a boy that nothing is happening for which could be a number of things. We may want to do a scan of her abdomen to see if that enlightens us but either way we can boost her natural hormones one way or the other."
"I think she only sees it one way, she's been living as a girl for four or so years, I suspect she wants to live the rest of her life as female."
The doctor nodded, "I think that's for Dr McWhirter to help you decide but I'd still like to do a scan if there are any testes there, they can go nasty if they don't drop." Daddy thank him and asked him to organise the scan and let us know, he nodded again and we left.
When we got home I tried to explain to Izzy what had happened but I think I just confused her. While we talked Mummy, Daddy and Auntie Doris locked themselves in the lounge. Izzy and I had some orange juice and chocolate to keep us going while we waited for the grown-ups to finish, after all we do what they wanted anyway. I hoped that I'd still get the place at the ballet school but it dawned on me they didn't invite Izzy too, that meant we'd be split up - did I want that, no I didn't, but I wasn't sure and in case they didn't accept me I didn't say anything to her.
They called me in to the lounge, "Look, we haven't asked you," my father asked. "Do you want to stay as a girl or would you rather be a boy?"
"No, I'm a girl and I want to stay as one and keep doing my ballet."
"We have to go back to the hospital for them to do a scan of your tummy tomorrow."
"Alright," I said, "will that hurt?"
"No, depending upon which scan they mean it'll just mean smearing some jelly stuff on your tummy so they can see what's inside."
"I like jelly, can I have strawberry?" I said to them and Mummy groaned.
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