It all started earlier this summer when Mom insisted I get a summer job. Of course I procrastinated; I mean why would I want to work when I could just relax and have fun like my friends. On the last day of school, Mom had had enough though, she actually picks me up from school and says, as I climb into the car, “Terry, I am taking you to the mall. There is a job open at New York and Company that you are going to take. Cheryl, you know, Christi’s mom, is the manager there and she said she would be happy to have you.”
I look at her like she has turned green and grown antennae… Finally, I am able to speak, “New York and Company? That is a girls’ clothing store… What am I supposed to do there?” She shakes her head and says, “I don’t want to hear any lip; you’ve had weeks to find a job and you have put it off. No more. This is a good job. Cheryl is even going to pay you a few dollars above minimum wage if you do well. Besides, Christi will be working there, too. I know you really like her…”
I am mortified and whine, “Mom! What are you talking about? And…even if…that doesn’t make up for working in a girl’s store!” She just smiles and says, “No matter. That is where you are working this summer. Besides, even if, as you say, you don’t like Christi, which makes me laugh, think of all the other girls that will be shopping there. It is about time you got a girlfriend—you are nearly sixteen!” I say, “Yeah…nearly sixteen and still no puberty…thanks, Dad!” Mom looks at me sternly and says, “Don’t you be bad-mouthing your poor father, God rest his soul, he couldn’t help his genes…any more than I could help love him. You may stay scrawny like him, but that does not mean someone won’t love you…”
I don’t even try a comeback…she is pulling into the mall parking lot and there is no use. She parks and makes me get out and follow her into the mall and then up the escalator to the second floor where New York and Company is located. She literally drags me into the store and a…cute girl—she looks to be about seventeen or eighteen, greets us, “Welcome to NYC. I am Amber. Can I help you find something in particular? That section over there is all on sale…fifteen percent off…”
Mom shakes her head and says, “No, thank you though, Amber. Actually, we are here to see Cheryl McReady. Is she available—she is expecting me, Grace Kinsley. Could you please let her know?” Amber bustles off to get Ms. McReady and I stand there trying not to drool at the gorgeous girls milling about the store. Maybe this won’t be so bad, after all…
Amber takes us to an office at the back of the store and Ms. McReady hugs mom and says, “Grace! I am glad you brought Terry. Terry, I am glad you are willing to take the job. Amber, please take Terry and show him around the store. He is going to be working with us this summer…” Amber looks at me strangely, but smiles at Ms. McReady and says, “Sure thing, Ms. M. Come on, Terry, let me show you around…”
I follow Amber back out into the store. Obviously, I have never been in here before… She shows me the sections: pants, jackets, accessories, shoes… She looks at me and says, “I guess you are about a size two…let me measure you…” She grabs a tape measure and starts measuring me. I stand there, stunned, and ask, “What are you doing? What difference does it make what girl’s size I am?” She giggles and says, “Oh, I just like to guess peoples’ sizes. See? I was right. A size two, short. Most girls would kill for that…”
Before I can retort, Ms. M. and mom come out. Mom says, “You are all signed up and an official NYC employee now!” Ms. M. says, “Welcome Terry. You will have to sign a few papers but you are otherwise good to go. Christi can’t come in tonight and I need the help, so your Mom agreed to let you stay and start straight away…” I look at mom, shocked. I finally, stutter, “B…b…but…” I don’t get any more out.
Ms. M. says, “The only thing is you are not dressed for work… Normally, I would say you could use your discount here…” Amber speaks up and says, “Ms. M. I just measured Terry—he is a perfect 2S. I am sure that we can find some things here and no one would ever know.” I pale as Mom says, “It is settled then. This job is not about the money—it is to get him off his tail this summer… Here Cheryl. Take my credit card and use it to get him whatever he needs for the job—even if it is in another store. Obviously, I prefer getting a discount whenever possible, though. I trust your judgment and I need to run. I will pick you up out front at eleven, Terry.” And…she leaves…
Amber pulls me over to the clearance rack and says, “I know we have some things in here that would fit…let’s see if they will work. With your discount, you can get several outfits that way…” She sorts through the pants and finds several pair of solid black and some pin-striped ones that, unlike some others on the rack, have belts on them. The belts are the skinny girly kind, but she says that we can change that out. After she pulls out three pair of the pants she goes to the racks of ‘tops’ and pulls out several button-front shirts; in white, solid colors, and striped.
She looks at my sneakers and white socks and shakes her head. She picks up a package of black tights and adds them to the pile. She goes over to the shoes and says, “There is not a huge selection here, but let’s check your size first.” She measures my foot with one of the foot-size gauge thingies and proclaims me a size 6 ½ (women’s). Then she says, “We have these flats, but they are ballet flats and would probably stand out as more girly than you would like. We have these new booties in…they are open-toed and open-backed, and have a pretty high heel. I don’t really think it would be noticeable, though, with those pants…and it would give you a little extra height. Let’s see…here we go. We have them in your size and in black. Perfect!”
She grabs a belt and shoos me towards the changing room. She stops at her purse and pulls something out on the way. She tells me to go in and take off me clothes, “I will hand you some things to put on over the door. Use this first, though…I always keep a spare in my purse. You can keep it; make sure you use it every day, though!” She hands me an unopened travel-sized stick of vanilla-scented Secret deodorant. “You need it and believe me, we will know if you are not using it!”
She pushes me in one of the stalls and closes the door. I stand there, unmoving for a while—until she asks, “Are you undressed yet?” I groan and say, “No. I don’t think this is a good idea…I mean everyone will know that I am dressing like a girl.” Amanda says, “They won’t know. I promise. Look—try these on. If it looks girly, we will figure something else out…”
I sigh and strip down to my underwear. I shudder and open the deodorant. I smell it and it is actually not, too bad…although pretty strong vanilla. I rub it on under my arms and say, “OK…I put on the deodorant…it feels funny—I have never used deodorant before.” Amanda mumbles something about that being obvious and then says, “OK, try this blou…shirt…” She hands me a white shirt. I pull it on and start to button it up, but have trouble. I complain, “The buttons are on the wrong side. How am I supposed to do this?” Amanda giggles and says, “I am sure you will figure it out. Just keep trying…” I grumble, “People will know it is not a guy’s shirt with the buttons on the wrong side.” Amanda asks, “How many times have you looked at which sides the buttons are on. No one will pay any attention. Are you done yet?” I finish them up to the last three on the top and give up. I try and button the sleeves, but there is only button that sort of lets the cuffs flare open. I look in the mirror and it is true; if you are not specifically looking to see which side the buttons are on, you can’t really tell. The cut of the shirt is a little off, pulling in at the waist and flaring at the breast more than usual, but the material really feels soft and nice.
I say, “OK, I have the shirt on. I guess it is OK…” She hands me the black nylon tights, already out of the package and says, “We don’t have socks here, so these will have to do…” I look at them like they might eat me, and whine, “Can’t we just go to a shoe store and get some socks?” She says, “Well, we could, but you have already paid for these now that they are opened…and I promise that no one will be able to tell; it is not like you will be wearing a skirt, or anything…” I sigh and say, “So, how do I put these things on?” Amanda giggles and asks if it is OK to come in and show me. After she shows me how to roll them on and get them situated, I grumble, “OK…I guess…these feel funny. They are tight.” Amanda giggles as she says, “That is why they are called tights, silly. I think we will need to get you different underwear, though. Boxer briefs are not the best with the pants…and especially with tights. Hang on…”
She disappears, leaving me standing in the dressing room, feeling like an idiot. A few minutes later, she comes back and says, “I just went to VS next door. Here…I got you the ‘boy cut’ style—just ignore the bit of lace. They were on sale…” She hands me a pair of pink girl’s panties that are cut like a boy’s briefs, but have lace around the waist and legs. I let out a little noise of surprise and exclaim, “I am NOT wearing those!” She laughs and says, “Oh, come on Terry, who is going to know—besides they are paid for. They were on sale and there are no returns on them. Do you want to tell your Mom you wasted her money?” I say, “why couldn’t you get boy’s underwear?” She says, “Victoria’s Secret is right next door, so it was quick—and this is as close to boy’s as they get there… I will just step out so you can change into them.”
I shoot daggers at her back as she leaves the little stall and closes the door. I look at the…undies…holding them between two fingers like I might catch something from them and sigh. She is right. If Mom finds out they spent the money and I refused to wear the stuff, then she will kill me. She, of course, will believe them over me in the mood she is in right now. Dang! I should have found another job…even McDonald’s would be better than this… I unroll the tights and change into the…undies…and am surprised at how soft they are. The lace tickles a little, but they feel really nice. I shake my head and roll the tights back on.
Amanda comes in when I am done and says, “There, that is much better. See. Those boxers were all wadded up in there…that would have shown through your pants. They may look like guy’s pants, but they are made for girls…the fabric is totally different and would show that mess under pants.” She messes with my tights telling me I need to keep the seams straight and then hands me a pair of black pants. I pull them on and the material rubs against my nylon-clad legs and it feels…good. I struggle with the first button, the ‘safety’ button that is hidden on the inside of ‘good’ pants. It is on the wrong side again. When I finally get it buttoned, I notice that it pulled a triangular flap over the fly area, meaning that even with the zipper open, the area is closed. I ask, “How am I supposed to pee with all of this stuff…and this stupid flap? The…undies…don’t have an opening, either.” Amanda says, “You will have to unbutton your pants, of course, and pull things down. There aren’t any urinals here in the store anyway, only a toilet…and you better not get pee everywhere…that is just so gross…”
I get the other two buttons closed and close the really short zipper. I notice that the thighs are a bit tight and the legs flare out a bit—Amanda tells me that is normal for ‘modern’ boot-cut pants. I also notice that they sit really low on my waist. I try to pull them up, but Amanda tells me they are supposed to be that low—that they are mid-rise pants, which is the style for women…to give the impression of a longer torso. I slide on the boots and feel really funny with the three-inch heel and the open toe and back…
Ms. M. stops by at that moment and inspects me. She says, “Well, Terry, you look very nice. No one would ever know that you are wearing female clothing. You will want to button that one button, two open ones, I don’t mind—three is too much…cleavage….well, chest… you know what I mean. The shoes are the closest thing to a problem, but you will be mostly behind the counter for a while anyway. Just make sure to put your belt on. Now, your hands are still a problem. Your skin is rough and those nails are atrocious. Not only do they look bad, but you could snag some of our more delicate material… Amanda, please see what you can do. I will let your Mom know something needs to be done long term…” She looks up and says, “…and Amanda, see what you can do with that mop of hair, as well…” She gives her an apologetic look and turns to leave, then turns back around and says, “Oh, is that vanilla I smell? I will say that is much improved over that sweaty smell from before…make sure you continue to use your deodorant!”
Amanda takes my hands and trims my nails and files them. Then she hands me some hand lotion to apply to my hands. Then she takes some sort of gel and spreads it through my hair before she brushes it into a style she seems OK with. She says, “You really need to get some good vitamins, your nails are too thin; they are actually cracked and split. They need some serious help. Keep using the lotion on your hands and it will soften up your skin and help get rid of the rough spots… Now, put on your belt and come on—I will show you how to use the register…”
The first couple of steps are weird in the high heels. Thankfully, they are wider heels and I adjust fairly quickly, but still marvel at the click-clack sound they make on the marble flooring. Ms. M. just nods at Amanda when she sees me…
Amanda shows me how to work the register and I pick it up pretty quickly…and the night goes pretty fast from there, since there is a steady stream of customers…none of which say a thing about me or the way I am dressed… Maybe they are right…no one noticed anything…or at least laughed at me. But Mom is going to have to get me some real clothes… This is too nerve-wracking…even if they DO feel really nice…
Mom picks me up outside the mall. I have several bags with the clothes from the store…and the clothes I had worn in. I had wanted to put my sneakers back on to walk out, but somehow…they had gotten lost. Ms. M. promised they would show up… Walking out in the booties was a little nerve-wracking, but no one paid me any attention, at all… I throw the bags into the back seat and climb in the front. It is a quick ride home and I am happy to get to bed…
To be continued...
I wake up to the sun shining brightly in my eyes. I glance at the clock…almost eight thirty… I stretch, careful to not wake up Emily, blissfully sleeping and somehow ignoring the bright light. I smile and lightly brush a few strands of hair out of her face as I recall last night’s ‘activities’. I can still feel the glow…
I quietly get up and put on my silk nighty and a robe. I go into the kitchen and look out at the glorious day…and make some coffee… Emily and I had been up late last night. Me studying up on the defense for my psychology Ph.D.—and her studying for her finals for her social services degree. After that, well, we need to ‘unwind’. I smile again at the memories…
Thirty minutes later a very sleepy-eyed Emily comes out of the bedroom—drawn by the smell of the coffee. She comes over and gives me a kiss and I hand her a mug of the steamy brew…strong and sweet like she likes it. She smiles and says, “That was wonderful last night. We should do that more often!” I giggle and tease her back, “What? Study late? I think that can be arranged!” I duck the bagel that comes flying towards me and we both giggle some more.
I take a sip of my own black coffee, carefully blowing on it to cool it down a bit, first. I look over the mug and say, “I have to meet up with M.S. in an hour for another practice session. I don’t feel like I know anything about controlling my energy yet.” Emily rolls her eyes and says, “I think you have come a long way over the last two years. I mean you got your B.S. and now you are preparing to defend your Ph.D. thesis…that is amazing. I mean I know you are a genius, but that is still amazing. Look at me, I am barely ready to just get my soshe degree and you are going to be Dr. Joy!” I grin and say, “And we are going to make a mad team! Look out ye with problems!” We giggle and I go to get ready…
Forty minutes later, I am taking the short drive from the off-campus house my Dad insisted on renting for me to school. I park in my designated spot and walk up to the main building and to M.S.’s office. I knock and quickly enter at her bidding. I walk over to her and give her a big smile and hug and we get started for the day…
An hour later, my brow is glistening from my efforts. The tiny pin prick in her finger is not healing...if anything, it is bleeding more. M.S. says, “Joy, relax…you know you can’t force it. Come, you have mastered everything you need to control the flow of your energy…but you keep your channels clogged because you are trying too hard and your mind too cluttered. I want you to meet up with these two women. Here are the addresses in town. One is a very good friend of mine—don’t tell the Church—that teaches yoga…but spiritual yoga. She will help you with clearing your channels. The other is the ballet mistress at the studio in town. It is a very respected studio and taking some lessons there will help you settle down and further hone your self-discipline. I should have sent you to both a long time ago—I really don’t know why I did not think of it before…
The next day Mom surprises me. She gets me up at eight and says that she has taken the day off… that Ms. M. had talked to her and that there were some things we needed to do to get me ready for work that evening. I groan…
We pull into the parking lot of Mom’s hair stylist an hour later and I look at her inquisitively. She looks back and asks, “I assume you still insist on letting your hair grow out?” I am surprised at this…she normally wants me to basically buzz-cut it… I carefully nod… She continues, “Well then, we need to get it shaped up…it is looking too wild… Cindy is going to straighten it out and make you look presentable. She can cut it so that it will have shape as it grows. Mind you, I still think you should cut it, but you were a good sport yesterday and if you keep up your good behavior at work, you deserve some leeway in how you want to look.” She giggles and says, “It just can’t be…ape man.”
I get out of the car and wiggle around, trying to get my clothes situated. After wearing the clothes I did at work yesterday, my normal clothes feel…well, itchy. I follow Mom in and she introduces me to Cindy, her stylist. Mom says, “Cindy, Terry has a new job at New York and Company and needs to look presentable for work. I have agreed to allow him to continue to grow his hair out, but it needs to be shaped up. He also needs to have something done with his nails. They are a disaster…” Cindy takes a look at my nails and says, “Well, it looks like someone tried to salvage what they could…they will take some work, but we can make them look good. I will check your toes, too…”
I know better than to say anything…Mom is letting me grow my hair, so I am not going to push it… Cindy has me sit down at a sink and lay back. She washes my hair…it is really weird having my hair washed this way, but it feels nice. When she is done, she wraps a towel around it and takes me over to her styling chair. I sit down and she takes off the towel. My hair is a wild mess. I had been able to put Mom off from making me get it cut for several months…thankfully she had been really busy, so it was not that hard. But I knew she was gunning to get it buzzed—which makes me the laughing stock at school, since most of the boys are growing theirs out more, now.
Cindy runs her fingers through the wet blonde mess and asks me, “OK, Terry. What are you thinking? How do you want it styled?” I sit there and think…not really knowing what to say. Finally, I say, “I don’t really know. I never got that far, since Mom never would consider letting me really grow it out.” She nods and says, “Well there is absolutely no shape to it, since your last cut was basically just clippers with a guard…it is all the same length and that is why it looks this way now. Four inches is not that long at it is still too short to do much with—other than to start shaping it up. Honestly, it has been a long time since I cut a guy’s hair but I am sure we can get it looking right. I am going to add in some layers, along with a taper in the back. I think sweeping bangs would look good on your face. It will be sort of like what I would do for a pixie cut on a girl… Does that sound OK?” I shrug, “I don’t think I will tell anyone that is what it is called, but I trust you to cut it and make it look OK… Anything that Mom will like and allow me to grow it out…”
What seems like forever later, but according to the clock is only thirty minutes, I am looking at myself in the mirror. Cindy is drying my hair with a blow dryer and using her fingers like a brush. She takes a hair straightener and straightens the bangs she had blown to the front and to the right. The bangs are longer on the right and sort of feathered—she had used a razor to get that look. Overall, the look is slightly girly, but I am sure that I can comb it and make it different. She says, as she finishes up, “You will get the best results blowing it forward like I did and with a straightener, but the way it is cut, it is really low-maintenance. It will always fall basically into this shape…although, you will have to get used to the bangs falling into your face. Now, let’s show your mom and get to work on those nails.”
Mom is surprised at the look and shakes her head but says she is OK with it if that is what I want. I don’t say anything, not wanting to rock the boat. Cindy then takes me to a table and has me sit down. I brush the hair from my face and can already tell it is going to get annoying, but smile as Cindy takes my hands and looks at them. She says, “These are terrible!” She puts my hands into some sort of hot wax and lets it cool, then pulls it off. Then she puts my fingertips into a bowl of soapy-looking water. She does the same with my feet, while my hands soak.
While my feet are soaking, she pushes back the cuticles on my fingers and examines my nails. She says, “These are beyond hope, really. The only way I am going to make them look decent is to glue acrylic nails on them. And you are going to need to take some really good vitamins. The acrylic tops will protect them until your real ones grow out healthy. She gets busy gluing, cutting, and shaping the acrylic nails. She says, “I am going to leave them about an eighth of an inch past your fingertip. That is nice healthy length; you can of course grow them out longer if you want, although that is about as long as a guy would normally let them grow. You will have to come in weekly for your hair and we will take care of your nails, too…” Then she fixes my toe nails. She applies a strengthener to them and then a couple of coats of clear polish. As she is doing that, I look at my fingers…the tips aren’t really long, but still are visible, since they are bright white and squared off to my fingers… They look like Mom’s only shorter.
Two hours after arriving at the salon, Mom pays and we leave to go get some lunch. Mom takes me to the same mall that I now work at and we go into the Applebee’s. I am momentarily embarrassed when our waitress asks us what us ‘ladies’ would like to drink. Mom lets her kindly know I am a guy and we order.
After we finish eating, Mom takes me out into the mall and into some lingerie store I had never heard of (or paid attention to). She gets several packages of black tights. Then she picks up several pair of girl’s panties…in boy cut style, but plain white in ‘microfiber’ (whatever that is). When we get out, I ask, “Why did you get those? Why can’t I just wear normal socks and underwear? This is crazy, Mom.” She looks at me and says, “You have new clothes that are very nice, but are not what you are used to. Boy’s clothes are less finicky. Girl’s clothes show things more, since they are stretchy and a bit tighter. Trust me. Panty lines are embarrassing enough for a girl—I don’t think you want any. Besides, experiencing tights—or pantyhose as some people call them—will be good for you. And before you ask, no, we are not getting you different clothes…or shoes. We got a really good price for really nice stuff and no one is ever going to know…”
Finally, she takes me into Old Navy and finds several ‘camisoles’ in colors similar to my new shirts. I give her a really quizzical look as she holds up the silky things with spaghetti straps. She says, “I saw how you didn’t really button your shirt yesterday, so, you are going to wear one of these under your shirt. The silky nature, the lacy trim, and the cute little flower right here in the front will be incentive enough for you to button that third button and keep it hidden.” I groan and whine, “It was only because the buttons are on the wrong side…I will keep it buttoned. I promise!” Mom looks at me and says, “With this on underneath, I am sure you will.”
Soon after that, we are back home and Mom tells me to get ready. I take a shower, but Mom makes me wear a plastic-rubbery hat on my head to keep from getting my hair wet. She tells me I can practice learning the style tomorrow. I get out and dry off. She has already laid out some charcoal grey pants with a black pinstripe, and pale yellow shirt and yellow camisole, and my other undie stuff. I sigh and get dressed.
After she drops me off at the mall, I dejectedly make my way to the second floor and to NYC. I walk in an Amber greets me, “Terry, you look great! Nice hair! And look at those nails! Go straight to Ms. M.’s office—she has something for you.” I nod and click-clack my way to the back of the store and to her office. She calls me in and says, “Terry, you look great! Much better than that mess from yesterday! I see you left your hair long. I think that suits you.” She fidgets a minute, then continues, “I…err…I ordered your nametag from the engravers down the hall and they delivered it a bit ago. I…well...they…made a mistake. It is understandable with where you work and all, but they misspelled your name. I don’t have any more store blanks and will have to order them, but because so many seasonal hires have been made company-wide, they are on backorder and it will take a couple of weeks…at least.
She hands me the nametag and I pale when I see the name ‘Terri’ engraved in it. She says, “I am afraid you will just have to wear this one for now…it is our policy. I am sure no one will even notice…”
I sigh and open the door to the yoga studio. I am not sure what I am supposed to accomplish here, but M.S. insisted that both the yoga and the ballet would help me…so, here I am… The first thing I notice is that it is bright and cheery in the studio. There are pristine wooden floors and bright colors on the walls. Mats are rolled up and neatly piled up close to one of the walls. I let the door close and the little bell tinkles again. A beautiful young red-head, not much older than me, comes out to greet me. She says, “Hi, I am Eileen. Welcome to my studio. Classes don’t start for another couple of hours, though.” I smile and say, “Hi, I am Joy. This may sound a bit strange, but I am here at the strong recommendation of the Mother Superior at St. Paul’s…” She laughs—it is a nice laugh; sort of like the tinkling of the bell on her door. She says, “Yes, she phoned me a bit ago and said you would be coming by. Come on in and we will get started…I will give you private lessons—especially since we will be working more on the spiritual side.” She gives me a critical appraisal, eying me up and down, and continues, “Not that we won’t work on your core and posture, too…”
She takes me to her little shop and finds me some yoga pants and a top on one of the racks and tells me to go change into them. When I come out, she already has two mats unrolled on the floor and some soothing music playing in the background. I smell some sort of incense. She runs me through a physical warm-up of various yoga poses, salutations and such, then has me sit cross-legged and we work on just breathing and calming my mind for about thirty minutes. She keeps talking about me finding my center…
It is strange, as she gets me deeper and deeper into the exercises, I can almost feel a glow in my core—like I can almost touch my energy…
I take the name tag that Ms. M. is holding out towards me. My hand shakes a little as I attach it to my shirt—it is one of those magnetic ones. She smiles and says, “OK, Terry, you are behind the register again tonight. You did well last night—we have a new sale starting tonight, though, so it will likely be busier. Just let Christi know if you need help. She should be here in a bit. Amanda’s shift is almost over.”
I go out into the store in a sort of a daze. I walk to the register—the click-clacking of my shoes somehow louder in my ears than before. I am just about to go behind the counter when I hear, “Terry? Is that you?” I turn and see Christi. She says, “Terry! You look hot! Oh…wait! I didn’t know. This is AWESOME. You are Terri with an ‘i’ now? When did that happen?” Amanda pipes in, “Yes, I didn’t know that putting you into some girl’s clothes was going to turn you into one. Are you serious about this?” Ms. M. comes in just then and says, “Girls! Leave poor Terry alone. It is my fault…well, it was a misunderstanding with the engraver. She understandably thought any Terry working here would be a girl and the name would be spelled with an ‘i’…
Ms. M. goes back to her office and Amanda leaves. Christi comes over to chat since the store is empty at the moment. She says, “Terri, I don’t care if it was a mistake. You look hot like that. Your hair is cute and…well…I could see myself going out on a date with you…Are you interested? I have liked you a long time, but I am not into…well…normal…guys…” I almost drop the money I am counting. My heart is pounding. I have been wanting to go out with Christi for ages…and all it takes is for me to wear some girl’s pants and a shirt to get her to ask ME out? I sort of stutter, “I would love to go out with you. I have wanted to go out with you for quite a while, too. But I never thought you would be interested…”
Right then a stream of customers comes in and we are busy until our ‘lunch’ break. It still seems weird to call a break at nine o’clock at night a ‘lunch’ break. Anyways, Christi had convinced her Mom to let us take ours together and she insists we go to the food court. I tell her that I am not sure I want to, dressed like this, but she is insistent. She says, “Oh, come on, Terri. You are working here like this…what is the difference?” Finally, I give in and we go to the Domino’s counter and each get a slice of pizza.
We sit down to eat and Christi asks me a bunch of questions about how I am liking working at NYC. Then she quizzes me about me getting my hair and nails done and how I decided on this cute style. She says, “It is like a cute swept over pixie cut. I love it! And those nails—daring for a guy. But why did you not go longer if you are being daring? I mean with that hair? You know what we should do right now? We still have over half an hour left on our break…” She doesn’t say anything else. She just grabs my hand and pulls me back into the mall…
I help Eileen roll up the mats and say, “Thank you, Eileen. You know, I think this is really going to help me in my…work…with M.S.” She laughs and says, “You don’t have to be so cryptic, Joy. I know all about Sister Gwen and have a good idea why she sent you to me. Just because she is…currently…a Catholic…and I am a practicing Buddhist, doesn’t mean that we are not good friends. She has spent a lot of time on a mat here, too. I could feel your energy—it is very much like hers, but stronger. Once you get control of it, you will be a force to be reckoned with. Just don’t let the Church find out about it—at least not while you are still at St. Paul’s…”
I give Eileen a hug and walk down the street. I enter the dance shop connected to the studio and wonder what it is that M.S. finds so important about ballet…
“What is this place,” I ask. Christi smiles and says, it is a little mall stand and the girl that runs it, Susi, is a miracle worker when it comes to eyebrows. Yours are a mess and really don’t go with that cute hair. Come on, my treat! Hi, Susi!”
Before I can really get a word in edgewise, the girls have coaxed me into the chair and Susi turns on a bright light. Christi whispers something to her and she nods. Then she starts plucking out brow hairs—starting with what feels like half my brow at a time. I yelp as the first ‘bushel’ comes out. Christi giggles and says, “Oh, come on Terri. Man up! It is not that bad!” I whine a little, “I don’t know about this…” Susi says, “Well, I can stop, but you will have funny, mismatched eyebrows…” I shake my head and she continues on…
When she is done, she holds up a mirror for me to look at her work. I am surprised. It felt like she had pulled out my whole eyebrow. In reality, they weren’t that much smaller—just evenly shaped. And tapered to a fine point on the outside of my brow. They were sort of feminine-looking in my eyes, but not overtly so. I had seen some guy actors with brows that looked a lot like these.
Susi tells me, as Christi pays, “In the future, it will be easier to keep them cleaned up. Christi here is a weekly customer of mine—I hope maybe you will come back, too.” I look at Christi’s thin, arched brows—now those are girly and they look really good on her. I nod and say, “Maybe I will. Thanks, Susi.”
A pretty young girl, Emma, greets me as I enter the store. I look around at the tutus, leotards, tights, and point shoes… I smile at Emma and say, “Hi. My name is Joy and it seems I will be taking some lessons and need the appropriate…equipment…” She giggles and says, “OK! Well, welcome to our studio. I take it you are a beginner, then? Let’s get you the basics…”
A few minutes later, I have on a black leotard, pink tights, and pink ballet flats. She adeptly puts my hair into a bun and tells me I will need to learn how to do this myself. I have let her know that M.S. sent me over and she lets Mistress Rose know that I am here for my private lesson. And before I know it, I am in a studio with a stodgy, very strict woman—in a bun that looks like it is pulling her face to the back of her head--learning the five positions of ballet and how to do proper Demi-plies.
We get back to the store just as our break time is up. Ms. M. looks at me and says, “Something is different about you, Terry. You look…neater… Oh! Did Christi take you to see Susi? She loves that girl and her work. Your brows look very nice.” And she goes back to her office.
“You want what?!?!” Mom asks with a shocked look on her face. My first week is up at the store and this is my first day off. Christi wants to go on a date at the mall and then spend some time at her house—she also has convinced me that I need to get my ears pierced. I look at Mom and say, “I know it sounds strange. But lots of guys get their ears pierced now. And…well…you sort of were pushing me on Christi…” She says, “Don’t put this on me, young man. First, you get your hair cut like that. Then you get your brows shaped. Neither overtly feminine, but not really masculine, either. Now you want me to sign a permission slip to get your ears pierced?” She shakes her head…
I don’t let Mom know at that point, that I have come to really like wearing my girl’s panties… Actually, I prefer all of the girl’s clothes to my own—at least the way they feel. My normal boy’s stuff itches me when I wear it now… She looks at me and says, “You are sure you want to do this? I know I said that if you did well at work that I would give you more leeway into how you look, but I didn’t really have this in mind… Cheryl tells me you are doing really well, so…” She blows out a lung full of air and then says, “I guess so. You will have to use your own money, though. Do you have enough?” I look at her and say, “Yes, more than enough. Thank you, Mom!” She hands me the signed permission slip and I hurry upstairs.
I am sitting in M.S.’s office giving her a mini version of the Spanish Inquisition, “What did Eileen mean that you had spent a lot of time on one of her mats? And…she said something about you ‘currently’ being Catholic. And what is with Madam Rose’s bun? Can you get any more uptight than that woman?” M.S. laughs and says, “Goodness, Child. One question at a time! Yes, I go to the yoga studio at least once a week. It is good to stretch out and unwind. It is also a great place to meditate. As for ‘currently’ being Catholic. I have told you about some of my past. Before the Church ‘brought’ me into their fold—to ‘protect’ me; I was a practicing Wiccan. Deep down, I still hold a lot of those beliefs—and the Church knows it. I just don’t let them out to play much anymore. As for Rose, well, her type of discipline will be good for you once you start to understand your energies better.”
She gets up and pours us some tea before sitting down and pricking her finger. She hold it out to me and picks up her cup of tea with the other hand. Smiling and blowing on the hot liquid, she takes a careful sip and patiently waits…
I quickly take a shower and use the moisturizing body wash that Mom had gotten me. I towel off and put on a clean pair of panties…it just happens to be the ones with lace that Amanda had gotten me at VS. I also put on a camisole—I have become addicted to the feel of the silky coolness against my skin. I just towel my hair and leave it damp… I put on a pair of my scratchy jeans and a polo shirt—after putting on my deodorant. I smell the vanilla scent wafting up as I lift my arms to get the shirt on. I shake my head, I used to think this shirt was really soft…
Mom drops me off at Cindy’s salon, then takes off to take care of some other errands. I go inside and Cindy washes and styles my hair. She doesn’t really need to cut much after just a week, but she does snip a little here and razor a little there… The vitamins that Mom got me for my nails supposedly are for hair, too. Cindy says that my hair will likely start growing a little faster now that they are in my system.
She looks at my nails and says they still are fine. She does take the clear coat off of my fingers and then does something to fix the little gap at the base of nails, where they had grown and the acrylic ones that are glued on show. Like my hair, she says they will likely start growing a bit faster with the vitamins. She asks if I want her to file them back to the original length. I shake my head, no. I have decided to be a bit more ‘daring’—just to show Christi I can be… It is not like they are really a girl’s length yet, or anything…just maybe a sixteenth of an inch longer than last week.
After she finishes putting the top coat back on my fingernails and pronouncing my toes fine, I pay her. Mom is just pulling back up when I exit the salon. She looks at me and shakes her head as she says, “I see you decided to keep it long. I had hoped you had changed your mind… I guess that means that you still want to go through with the ears, then?” I nod my head and say, “Yes, Mom. Christi is going to meet us at Claire’s at the mall in about twenty minutes—she just texted me.”
I take a deep breath and concentrate just on that action for a moment. It is strange how my mind begins to clear—and that after just one session with Eileen. I take M.S.’s hand and carefully fold it into mine and pull it close to my heart. I close my eyes and breathe slowly and evenly and try to find my center. I notice that inner glow again from yesterday and feel a slight tingling in my hands. I open my eyes in surprise and let go of her hand. The pin prick is gone…
Mom goes to Claire’s with me to attest that she has given her permission. Christi comes up to the store at the same we do, but from a different direction. Mom greets her and we go inside. I hand the permission slip to the girl and Mom affirms that she has signed it. The girl, Emily, takes me back to a stool and has me sit on it. She then shows me the starter studs that I can choose from. She points to some really sparkly cubic zirconia ones and says, “These are actually on sale. You can get them for half price. Or you can get two sets for the price of one.” Christi smiles and says, “These are perfect, Terri! They would look great on you on you. Ms. K. can Terri get a double pierce? That would look so cool! Mine are triple-pierced and I love it.” She pulls back her long hair to demonstrate and continues, “Terri—now THAT would be daring!”
Mom shakes her head and says, “They are Terry’s ears and I promised I would not interfere. Terry, just remember, you have to live with the consequences. School will be starting up soon and these won’t likely be healed enough to not wear any studs in them without closing up by then. Are you prepared to wear not only earrings, but two earrings in each ear?” I feel a little run over by this whole thing—sort of like a Mac truck had come through the store and I was in its path. I had not even mentioned a double-pierce, let alone thought about one. What do I do now? Christi is pushing me more and more to be ‘daring’… I look at Christi, obviously intent on my doing it and say, “I will go with the double-pierce. Thanks, Mom…” I am SO going to regret this, I just know it…
Mom just shakes her head and says, “Like I said, they are your ears, Terry. I am going now. Cheryl will drive you two home with her in two hours. Just give me a call when you are ready to come home and I will come pick you up.” And she takes off as Emily loads the piercing gun. First Emily cleans my ears with alcohol and then makes some marks with a Sharpie. Christi shakes her head and Emily wipes them off with some more alcohol. Christi points and Emily makes new marks. Christi nods and Emily shows me the marks. They look even to me, but what do I know? How am I supposed to know that a girl’s studs are usually placed closer to the edge of the ear than a boy’s to allow for wearing more petite, dangly earrings. Boys usually want to wear larger studs, so the hole is typically placed more in the middle of the lobe. The second set of marks that Christi approved is really close to the edge of my ear—like hers… I just say, “I trust you and Christi. If you think they are where they need to be, then let’s do this before I change my mind.”
Four clicks later—there was surprisingly no pain at all—Emily is putting the backs on the studs and cleaning up the trickles of blood with some special antiseptic. She shows me how to turn the studs and how to use the antiseptic. I pay and Christi and I leave. On our way out, she stops at one of the racks of earrings—all dangly and sparkly—and says, “I can’t wait until your holes are healed up and we can shop for pretty new earrings together.” She takes my hand and leads me out. I feel a little weird about the way she said that, but follow her without comment.
I smile at M.S. She hugs me and says, “Congratulations, Child. Your first healing—well, other than your own transitional one. This is but the beginning, though. You must keep up your yoga and the ballet. I can feel your energies strengthening and you must learn to control them. You have been very fertile ground for them—I believe they may well be stronger in you than they ever were in me…”
Christi and I walk around the mall and go into the big music store to browse around. She seems a little distant, though. Finally, after we are done at the music store, I walk with her to the food court where we get a drink and sit at one of the tables. I can’t stand it anymore, so I ask, “Christi…is something wrong? You seem…well…distant today, like you don’t want to be with me. Did I do something?” She takes my hands in hers and says, “No, Terri. It is just…well…like I told you…I am not into…normal guys… I prefer you in your girl’s clothes. I would prefer you even more if those that you wear were even more girly. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want a fru-fru gay guy. Not that there is anything wrong with them. I just want a guy that is confidant enough to be feminine. When I saw you last week with your hair in that cute style and your nails fixed up…and in NYC’s finest dress clothes…it made my heart sing. Walking around with you in those boy jeans and that shirt is kind of turning me off… It is not your fault; I just like the way you look better the other way…”
I sigh and sit there quietly for a few minutes. Finally, I say, “Christi. I wondered why you liked me all of a sudden after never giving me the time of day before. I am still me, no matter what I wear, though. I don’t know that I could ever be ‘daring’ enough, as you say, to dress up really like a girl. I am not really all that brave. Getting my ears pierced today nearly gave me a heart attack. Thinking about what everyone is going to say when I go back to school with two…” I let the sentence trail off. I take another breath after a short pause and say, “I have a confession, though. I LIKE the way the girl’s clothes feel. I wish I could wear them all the time—so that no one knew.” I get a small voice and say, “I am wearing a pair of my girl’s panties and a camisole right now. I haven’t worn boy’s underwear all week…”
M.S. pours us another cup of tea and says, “So, you are starting to connect with your center and your energy flow. You say you feel a ‘glow’. That is good. You need to continue practicing connecting with that ‘glow’…you have not quite made the full connection yet…you will know when you do; trust me. When you make that connection…your perceptions of the world will change with it…”
Christi and I finish our drink as we discuss the merits of girls’ clothes versus boys’. She, of course, is all about the looks—where I am all about the feel… She checks her watch and says, “We should go to the store. Mom will be ready to leave pretty soon and I want to check something, first.”
We go up to NYC and walk in. Amanda is there greeting people and is shocked to see my ears. She gives me a hug and says I look great. Christi whispers something in her ear and Amanda nods, thoughtfully. Then Amanda says, “Well, Terry—I think we can find some cheap jeans and tops that, with your discount, won’t set you back much. I know Ms. M. will let you get them on credit. So, you like the feel of girl’s clothes?”
I give Christi a look that could kill. Amanda says, “Don’t blame Christi, Hon. I have noticed how you act in girl’s clothes…and how you act in boy’s—like right now. Come on. Let’s see what we can find that is on sale or on clearance.” Several minutes later, I have a pile of jeans that are passable for a guy. I draw the line at the leggings they try to get me to get. There is also a pile of the company’s ‘Mercer soft shirts’ in various patterns and styles, including the cropped ones. The price is just too good. This will take up my entire next paycheck, but it is worth it to have some nice clothes to wear outside of work.
Ms. M. comes out and is surprised to see my ears, as well. She approves the credit and says she will deduct the clothes from my next check. I pick up the bags and Ms. M. leads us to her car in the mall’s garage. On the way home, she says, “I am sorry, but I am going to have to come back to work for a couple of hours. I need to finish up an issue with the inventory and the next order. I am sure you two will be fine. I will bring supper home with me when I come.” She drops us off in their driveway and pulls off after Christi gets the door open and we are inside.
I drop my bags on the floor and take off my sneakers so I don’t get anything on their really soft white carpet. Christi tells me that her dad is on a business trip—so we will be alone until her mom gets back. She says, “Come on. Bring your bags up to my room and you can model your new clothes for me.” I blush but grab the bags and say on the way up the stairs, “You do know that modeling clothes isn’t really a guy thing, right?” She giggles and says, “So…pretend like you are a girl for a bit…” Again, I am not sure if she is joking, or not—so I don’t respond and just follow her to her room.
I unknot myself from the human pretzel that Eileen has me folded into. I groan and she says, “Not bad for your second session. Now, let’s work on centering yourself.” She leads into a series of breathing exercises and I start to feel the glow that is becoming more familiar—but I just can’t seem to make the connection to it. I sigh and Eileen says, “You are still trying too hard, Joy. Give it time…you will get there. You are much closer than you were even yesterday…”
I sigh again and roll up my mat. I don’t even bother changing out of my yoga gear before I leave. I just grab my bag with my ballet stuff in it and hurry down the street to the ballet studio. I change into my ballet stuff and timidly go into the private mirrored studio where Madame Rose is waiting for me.
I look around Christi’s room. It is sort of what I expected a teenage girl’s room would like—of course, I have never been in one, but have seen a few on TV. Anyway, it is all soft pastels and pillows. Posters of a few girl’s bands and few dolls are the main decorations. Christi breaks into my appraisal of her space and says, “Come on silly. I want to see how you look!”
I sigh and ask, “Where would you like me to change?” She rolls her eyes and says, “Well, right here, silly. It is just us girls, after all…” I sort of shake my head but pull out a pair of the new jeans and a ‘paper white’ top—it is one of the ‘cropped’ ones—which just means it is too short to tuck in. I take off my boy jeans-revealing the lacy VS panties that I forgot I had on—of course, I blush and Christi giggles as she stresses that she loves them. I take off the polo shirt, revealing the silky white camisole, with all its lace and the flower on front. Christi asks, “So, you have one of those on at work all the time? You should totally unbutton another button and let it show—that is CUTE!” I groan and pull on the shirt. I quickly button it up, now used to the buttons on the other side. The shirt is soft and feels glorious compared to the rough polo shirt I had on before.
I take the jeans and pull them up my legs. I sigh in contentment as the soft denim stokes my legs. They are a thousand times softer than my boy jeans—and the slight stretch in the material makes them really comfy. I know I am hooked—I don’t see how I will ever be able to wear ‘normal’ jeans again. I tuck in the shirt and button and zip the jeans. I stand there and Christi has me turn around.
She says, “That is perfect for you in “boy mode”. We are the same size—except you are a 2 short and I am a 2 average. Are you willing to play around with some accessories, just for here? It would be fun!” I shrug and say, “I guess…if it will make you happy…and no one finds out…” She smiles and says, “OK. Hang on.”
She pulls out a glitzy gold chain belt—it is only like a half inch wide and way longer than it needs to be. She has me feed it through the loops and let the extra length just hang down after I buckle it. Then she takes out a pinkish scarf thingy that is a big long loop. I am told that it is ‘coral’ and it is an ‘infinity’ scarf. She loops it around my neck and I notice the sparkle from the sequins as she does. She undoes the buttons on my shirt and just leaves it open—fully showing my camisole under it and the scarf.
She goes to one of her drawers and pulls out a pair of short, lacy socks and has me put them on. She says, “We are even the same shoe size. It is great!” She goes to her closet and finds a pair of black booties with a really high heel. She says, “This is my favorite pair of booties for jeans. They are called “photogenic booties” by Impo. Some people call them shooties. Anyway…put these on and let’s see.” I say, “Are you sure, those are really high heels and they are really pointy…” She giggles and says, “Well, the heels are four inch—but it is a 3/4 inch platform, so they are not really much higher than the ones you have been wearing at work. They are more of a stiletto than yours, but I have faith you can handle it. It is not like we are going on a hike or anything…”
I give her a disgruntled look and put them on. I tie them and stand up. The heel, of course sinks into the deep pile of her carpet. She takes my arm and leads me into her bathroom, where the tile floor gives me a more solid surface to navigate. I practice a few steps and find that I can master them OK after a bit. I am not going to be walking any model runways any time soon—but I won’t break my neck.
Christi then says, “Sit down here at my vanity, Terri. I want to try something…”
I am on my two-hundredth plié—no lie. My thighs are burning and there is no relief in sight—at least I get no sense from Madame Torture that she is going to let up. I start focusing on my breathing—like in yoga—to distract myself from the growing pain. The more plies I do, the more I focus on my breathing and the closer I get to connecting to my center. When I hit three hundred plies—I connect…and the world goes…psychedelic!
Christi says, “I don’t have the proper foundation for your complexion. As a blonde, yours is lighter than mine, so we will just do this the more natural way…” I give her a dubious look and ask, “Do what the natural way?” She giggles and says, “Your makeup, of course.” I put my hands up and say, “Wait a minute—isn’t that going a bit too far? I mean, you already have me dressed up like a Barbie doll—which is nice, by the way—but makeup?” I shake my head and say, “I don’t know…”
She lightly bats my hands away and says, “It will wash off, silly. It isn’t like I am tattooing onto you, or anything. I just want to see what it looks like…” I sigh and give in. There is no arguing with her when she has her mind set to something. I sit quietly while she explains that she is putting on eye shadow in blues and greens to complement my eyes and hair. Then she adds eyeliner and mascara. Finally, some lip stain, lip gloss, and a little blush on my cheeks. Then she has me turn to the mirror—the difference is amazing. My eyes ‘pop’, my lips are ‘there’, and my face is…pretty.
I am completely disoriented by all of the wild colors undulating in front of my eyes. I guess I know what it is like to trip on LSD now. I grab onto the bar harder and lean up against it. I hear Madame Rose ask, “Joy, are you alright? I know that was a lot of plies, but…” All I see is a weird seething mass of bright colors where she should be standing… She says, “Stay right there, I will get Sister Gwen…”
Christi says, “Terri, you are beautiful. You should wear makeup all of the time!” I shake my head in shock…just staring at myself in the mirror. Christi says, “Terri! Look at me! You are gorgeous—how do you feel?” I continue to stare at the mirror and say in a small, shocked voice, “Confused. I like how it looks, but…I can’t…”
Ten terrifying minutes later, Eileen comes in and takes me by the hands. She slowly sits me on the floor and says in a calming voice, “Gwen is on her way over. She will be here in just a few more minutes. She told me that this might happen—although, I don’t think we were expecting it quite so soon. Close your eyes…is that any better?” I close my eyes and the colors are more muted, but still there.” I nod my head and say, “A little. It is still…hypnotic—almost nauseating. All of these swirling colors…”
Christi is painting my nails—finger and toe—a bright peacock blue trying to convince me that it is OK to like myself this way. Her Mom comes in without us even hearing it. To say she is surprised is likely the understatement of the year. She comes in Christi’s room and says, “Christi, Terri. I have supper—I was able to finish a little earlier than I… Oh…my… What is this?” She sits down and looks at me—then at Christi who is putting the cap on the nail polish—having finished the third coat… I am sitting there, not really processing the fact that my nails are now blue—still shell-shocked as I am at my face in the mirror…and the fact that I like it.
I sense M.S. coming in the studio…I don’t have a better word for it. I just know it is her… Her colors are more solid…steady…organized. I gravitate towards those and she comes over and says, “Joy, Child, you have connected to your inner energy stream. This allows you to visualize external energy streams. We will discuss all of that later. I was not expecting you to progress quite so quickly. I guess our practice had you further along than I thought and the yoga and ballet was enough to push over the edge. I know this is confusing for you, right now. I want you to look inward…find that inner glow and concentrate only on that. Breathe in and out…all that is there is that inner golden glow…nothing else… Breathe in…and…out…”
Ms. M. is looking at me, obviously worried. She asks, Christi, “What in the world were you two doing? Did Terry…or Terri…I don’t know whether to think of him as a her now…want this?” Christi shakes her head and says, “I pushed a little…I just wanted to see what…she…would look like. I was going to wash it right off, honest!” I pull myself together as much as I can and focus on Ms. M. as I say, “I like how I look—how can that be? I am a guy…but…I like looking like this…”
I breathe in…and out… I focus just on that…and calm down enough that I can focus more on myself… I find that I can now see my inner glow as much as I can feel it. I focus on that glow…on that and breathing… Slowly, the other colors fade…and all I see is that golden glow inside of me… M.S. says, “Open your eyes, Child.” I timidly open my eyes and see…M.S. smiling at me. I take a shaky breath and say, “Oh, M.S., that was terrifying! I never want to do that again!”
Mom arrives twenty minutes later. Ms. M. had called her as soon as she knew that I was alright—well, as alright as I was going to be. She comes in and sort of gasps when she sees me. She says, “Terry, Sweetie, are you OK? What is going on?” Christi and I go through it all again and, while I have settled down enough to be coherent, my nerves are still rattled… I finish by saying, “I don’t know what is wrong with me, Mom. I like wearing these clothes…and I like the way I look with makeup on…”
Mom hugs me and says, “Well, I have to admit—you look very pretty. I think we are going to need to seek some professional help in this, though. Son, I love you no matter what—you know that, right?” I nod, and say, “I know, Mom… I just feel like some sort of freak…” Right at that moment, my stomach growls loudly and everyone laughs… the tension somewhat broken, Christi says, “Well, at the very least, you have a freak in your stomach!”
M.S. says, “We will discuss that later…your defense is in two hours…are you OK to do it? I can get it postponed if you need me to.” I shake my head and say, “No, this was just supposed to be a distraction before I went—it turned out to be more of one than I expected…”
Two hours later, I am sitting in a small room with a panel of professors, led by Ms. Braun (actually a professor and a Doctor). I am scrubbed clean and polished up…and eerily calm after the incident earlier… The panel plies me with questions and I calmly and confidently answer them all. After an hour of grilling that would have done the Spanish Inquisition proud, the group puts their heads together and whispers for a few minutes, then Ms. Braun says, “Congratulations, Dr. Rousseau!
I walk into the building with a smile that just won’t quit. Uncle Jeff and my Dad had been working non-stop over the past weeks to get it ready—only stopping long enough to attend my graduation last week. It has been a week since my defense and the place looks great—thanks to Mom and Dad, Uncle Jeff and Aunt Janet, and Grandma and Grandpa. I wasn’t much help this past week—between partying and trying to get a handle on intermittent bouts of seeing the world in psychedelic swirls.
Shauna is in her office, messing with a bunch of files—of what, I have no idea. She graduated last week, too—with a pre-law degree. She was accepted into Harvard, Yale, and a few other prestigious law schools, but decided to go to a small, upcoming one that is only about thirty minutes from here. In the meantime, she is going to be my office manager at the center. It is still strange for me to think that I am two years younger than her and my other friends from college—yet I am four years ahead of all of them academically….
Emily is in her office straightening her things. She had just hung her shiny new diploma on the wall—proclaiming her to be a licensed social worker and therapist. I smile as I walk by and into my office. The place is awesome…just minutes from the yoga and ballet studios. Ironically, it is also not far from Zoey’s tattoo parlor and hair salon where Joy first made an unwanted appearance.
I sit down in my pretty office chair and look around… I have made it! Now, all I need are some clients…
Mom makes me get in the car. The past week has been pure hell for me. I continued to work at NYC…longing more to dress like a girl every day. Christi would sneak some light mascara on me—and I had left my toenails blue. But, I was getting more and more depressed—because I couldn’t dress like I wanted. Not because Mom or Ms. M. would not let me—I wouldn’t let myself… Finally, Ms. M. had come across a reference to a new therapist in town that supposedly specialized in problems like mine… That is where we are headed…
Mom parks and we get out. I look at the front door of the new center; it just opened today, it seems. “Joy of Life Center” is proudly painted in rainbow colors on the glass… Mom opens the door and we go in. A pretty young woman comes out of an office and says, “Hi, I am Shauna. Welcome to Joy of Life. Please excuse that we don’t have a receptionist yet, how may I help you?” Mom says, “Well, I received a recommendation to come to your center—even though you have just opened.” Shauna smiles and says, “Yes, it is our first day—but Joy, our primary therapist, is really good at what she does. Would you like to meet her?” Mom says, “Yes, that would be nice. My name is Grace. Grace Kinsley. This is my…child…Terry. I am afraid Terry needs some help that I don’t know how to give.”
A few minutes later, we are sitting in a conference room and a very pretty—and young strawberry blonde comes in. She introduces herself, “Hello, I am Joy. It is nice to meet both of you. How may I be of assistance to you?” Mom has a shocked look on her face when says, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look old enough to be a therapist…” Joy laughs and says, “I am sure I don’t, Ms. Kinsley. Actually, I am only eighteen, but I have a Ph.D. in psychology and a few other degrees, as well. I…well…I learn easily—let’s just leave it at that. Do you think it will be a problem for you?” Mom smiles and says, “No. I trust the person that recommended you implicitly. And, please, call me Grace…”
Another pretty girl that Joy introduces as ‘Emily’ brings in a pot of hot tea and says, “I thought you might could use some tea. Or would you rather have coffee?” Mom shakes her head and says, “No, tea is perfect. Terry and I both are tea drinkers.” Emily pours the tea and smiles at me as she leaves the room. I nervously pick up the cup and blow on the hot liquid before taking a small sip.
Joy lets me settle a bit and then asks, “OK, Terry. Would you like to tell me what your problem is? If it is something that we can all agree we can help you with here at the center, then we will work out a plan of action and see if we can’t put whatever your demons are to rest…”
I nervously take a few more sips, then say in a small voice, “Well, I seem to prefer to dress as a girl even though I am a boy.” Joy is quiet, like she was waiting for me to get to the point. I sigh and say, “Don’t you get it? I want to wear girl’s clothes—I like the way they feel. I am learning to love the way they look. I want to be able to wear makeup and heels. I want to wear a dress and tights… I am a freak!” I start to tear up a bit.
Joy remains perfectly calm and still and asks, “OK, Terry. Why do you say you are a freak? Who is stopping you from wearing the things you want?” She looks at Mom, but is clearly still talking to me, “Your Mom?” I shake my head as the first tear trickles down my cheek. I say, “No, Mom and Ms. M. have been great. My girlfriend is actually encouraging me to dress that way… But I have to go back to school in a couple of weeks and there is no way I can go dressed as a girl…”
Joy takes a few sips of tea and gives me a chance to continue. When it is clear that I have said my piece, she says, “Yes, I see that thought clearly distresses you. I think I can help you, Terry, if you will let me. Grace, you will have to authorize the sessions, since Terry is a minor. I will keep you updated with our progress and get the appropriate permissions for anything that needs it, but our sessions will be private. It will be up to Terry to decide what he wants to share with you. There will however be a few things that I will ask Terry to keep confidential. If that is OK, we can get a few signatures and start tomorrow. Is that OK?”
Mom looks at me and asks, “Terry, are you willing to give it a try?” I nod and Mom looks back at Joy, “I don’t have a huge amount of money that I can spend—I have no idea what the insurance will cover…” Joy smiles and says, “Don’t worry about that. We don’t actually charge anything. Donations are welcome, of course, but this center operates off of some special…grants… It is likely, though, that some time in the future, I will ask Terry to help out on a case. It is not a binding condition, but it is always nice to pay things like this forward…”
After Mom signs several documents, we head home. I actually feel a little better already—but also really nervous about this whole thing. I will be at the center in the mornings and work my usual evening shifts at the mall…
I say, “I will see you in the morning, Terry.” I smile as they leave and take a sip of tea. A few moments after they leave, Shauna, Emily, and to my surprise M.S. come in the conference room and take a seat. Emily has a fresh pot of tea and pours some for everyone…
M.S. smiles and says, “So, you have your first case. Care to tell us about it…and what we can do to help?” I smile and say, “It is so good to have a team like all of you. On the surface, it seems pretty straight forward… We may have a simple cross-dresser; maybe a transvestite… It could be deeper than that, though. I will need to do a few tests to be sure.” M.S. says, “Yes, you need to do your regular tests, but you also will need to explore the energy flows with your vision. We need to practice some more this afternoon…”
And so, an hour later, I am sitting in Eileen’s studio on a mat…next to M.S. who is serenely sitting there, cross-legged and looking as comfy as if she were in a million dollar lounge chair. I force myself into a lotus position and start my breathing routine. Over the past week, it has become increasingly easier to connect to my energy center. It has also become increasingly more difficult to disconnect from it. And, I have had bouts of…an auto-connect…for lack of a better word, where all of a sudden the world goes psychedelic on me. M.S. has patiently explained that I am visualizing different energy streams…different streams have different colors, which is how my brain processes them. The problem is, I seem to visualize the streams in different colors than M.S. does. The other thing is that M.S. has to physically touch someone to visualize their streams…where I just have to be close to them.
I connect and the world is once again a swirl of psychedelic colors. At least I don’t panic anymore…or get nauseous… I focus on the steady form that M.S. projects and describe what I see… That teaches me a couple of things… The neon pink color emanating from her is her feminine energy stream. It is so bright, because she is fully connected with her femininity. It is steady because she is so secure in it. She also has a strong golden stream, which is her power stream—like mine… There are other streams, but those are harder to tease out their meanings…
I look over at Eileen and am not surprised to see a similar pink stream—it is not as bright or steady, but it is a lot steadier than the streams I have picked up from most passers-by when I ‘auto-connect’. I am totally surprised to see a faint golden stream, as well. M.S. explains that everyone has a power stream—that most people cannot connect to it, though, so it won’t be readily visible—more of vapor. Since Eileen is such an accomplished yogi at her age, hers is becoming stronger…and is now clearly visible to those that can sense the streams. She explains that the really powerful yogi can have fairly strong power streams—not anywhere near as strong as mine or M.S.’s, but strong, none-the-less.
I work at disconnecting my consciousness from my center and M.S. sends me to ballet. She has explained that if I don’t build up the mental and physical discipline to separate my consciousness from my center—and keep it separated—I will eventually ‘auto-connect’ and lose myself in the streams. She says it is hard to explain, but I will understand with time. At any rate, the routines in ballet require dedication and discipline—both of which I will need. I sigh, knowing I will be in need of a healing session with M.S. tonight to ease the muscle aches…
Mom brings me back to the center the next morning. She has an appointment with Joy…and I have to take a bunch of tests…oh, joy… (No pun intended…)
Emily leads me into a room with a computer and loads a program with a bunch of questions. She runs me through the basics…it seems pretty straightforward… She leaves me to it with a pot of hot tea and says she will check in on me in a bit…
I bring Grace into my office and sit next to her at the table. I pour her some tea and settle in. Then, when we are comfortable, I ask, “OK, Grace. I just need to get your perspective on things. Terry is taking a few tests that will give me a better read, psychologically, with what we are dealing, but I never discount a mother’s intuition. Can you give me a little background on this? It seems like a fairly fresh issue?”
Grace sips the tea and grimaces. She adds a little more sugar and says, “Yes, a little over two weeks ago, this would have been a non-issue. At that point, I just wanted Terry to get a summer job. He is old enough to start learning those ethics… It is not about the money, at all. Anyway, he procrastinated. I think he thought I would give in and let him just bum away the summer like last year. I talked to Cheryl, a really good friend and the owner of the New York and Company franchise at the mall. She needed some help, so it seemed like a win-win-win. Terry would get a job, Cheryl would get help, and maybe Terry would learn not to procrastinate next time and wind up working in a women’s clothing store.”
She pauses and takes a sip of the tea. Seemingly satisfied with the sugar content, she continues, “That is where things start going south, so to say. I brought Terry in after school to get him signed up for the job. Cheryl needed help that day and so I agreed to let Terry start right away. Only, he wasn’t dressed for the part. I would have taken him to one of the stores in the mall, but one of the employees brought up that she could outfit him with some clothes at the store—at the employee discount—and no one would know, since they would really look like men’s clothing with the right accessories… That had in no way been a part of my plan, but when it came up, it seemed perfect—another nail in the coffin of procrastination. I know shaming someone is not always the best course of action—and I am ashamed of myself as a mother right now—but at the time it seemed like a good idea.”
Another sip of tea and she continues, “It gets worse from there. Terry had been badgering me to let his hair grow out. I don’t have any problems with that at all, to be honest, except I knew that he would not want to put in the work that long hair requires to look good—especially over the summer. But I had no real grounds to object once he showed that he could be responsible on the job. I decided to take a chance…I checked with his usual barber—he said that he did not do long hair. With no other place to turn, I asked my stylist and she agreed to do his hair—even though she really did not have any experience to speak of with guy’s hair. Well, you see the results… I think she did a really good job, considering… His nails were born that day, too. I blame myself for not paying attention to how neglected they had become. Anyway, my stylist told me that they really needed some protection to grow out healthy and look decent while some vitamins she recommended did their magic. She left them on the upper end of acceptable length for a guy because she said it would help with the strength. I have no idea about that, but I trust her…”
She is quiet—I don’t say anything…just waiting. Finally, she continues, “This next part is really embarrassing… Terry needed underwear to go with the new clothes he got from the store. You know how women’s pants are. They show any little thing through them. He needed something that would not show a panty line. Cheryl had told me the other girls were worried that Terry would be…well…a guy in the bathroom… So, I got him girl’s panties to kill two birds with one stone. No panty lines that would be doubly embarrassing for him…and no front opening to encourage him to sit in the bathroom. I have since found out that I could have gotten some nylon underwear for boys that would have served the same purpose, but I honestly had no idea about that at the time… I have no excuse for the camisoles over say generic undershirts—except I just wanted to shame him into buttoning up the shirt—and it seemed like a crime to put an itchy old boy’s undershirt under such a nice soft blouse…”
I pour some more tea as she continues, “Then he wanted his ears pierced… Again, I really had no big problem with it… I know that that is becoming more acceptable and probably a lot of guys in his class may have them. It is just that he has never been the popular guy at school… Our family history…on his dad’s side…has often resulted in delayed puberty. Terry is afflicted with this, like his dad was—he passed away three years ago.” I make my sincere regrets known and she continues, “Anyway, I agreed to let him get them done. He had hooked up with Christi, Cheryl’s daughter—and she was encouraging him to get it done. He had been pining after her for years…and this job made it happen…little did I know the real reason… Anyway, I agreed. We met up at the store and Christi convinced him to get a double-piercing. I tried to discourage it…but I figured that it was easier to let him do it and then just let the hole grow closed when he couldn’t handle the pressure than create a scene. It gave him another connection to Christi if that is what he wanted… When I saw the placement of the piercings later…” She breaks down and starts crying. I hand her a box of tissues and gently ask her to continue…
She takes a shaky breath and a sip of tea; then continues, “When I came over to Cheryl’s and saw him…her(?)…all made up and dressed really girly…I just did not know how to react… Is it all my fault…? Have I messed my boy up?” She breaks down even more.
I give her quiet support and wait for her to settle down, then say, “Let’s wait for the results of the tests. I don’t think you are to blame for this. I think you may have accelerated the outcome a bit. It is almost like an accidental conspiracy. Thank you for being so honest with me, Grace. This will be immensely helpful as I navigate the waters with Terry…or Terri—whichever the case may be… Are you OK to drive? We will make sure that Terry gets to the mall on time…and safely.”
I groan… Question #300 flashes up on the screen… It is the last one…and it is free text… It is a simple question…or so it would seem… “What is your name?” I hesitate. I enter “Terry”…then hit backspace…and correct it to “Terri”…then hit backspace…and sit there… I am so confused…what do I put? Finally, I quickly hit “i” and and click “Submit” before I can change my mind…
I look at Emily and ask, “So?” Emily says, “Well, I am still evaluating the results, but I can say that early polling says that Terri, with an ‘i’, is not a simple cross-dresser—there is more to it than that. He is also not a transvestite…there is no sexual thrill involved… The hesitation quotient in giving his/her name is meaningful…I need more time…” I sigh and smile at her frustration. I kiss her and say…work your magic—if anyone can tease this out—it is you—miss ‘top of her class’… I leave her frowning over her monitor…
I smile as Terri comes in. I simply ask, “I have tea…tell me if you would rather have something else…” He/she says, “No, tea is fine…really. I like it…” I nod and say, “OK, so…in your test, you responded that your name is Terri…with an ‘i’… That is how you want it?” A hesitant nod… “I smile and say, “OK, Terri. Now…I have not seen the results of your tests…Emily is looking over those right now… Can you tell me why you want to use that spelling?”
A couple of nervous blowings on hot tea…and a little nervous procrastination… Then, finally, an answer, “I don’t know…it just feels right?” I nod and say, “OK, we will leave it at that, for now. Is there anything else you would like to say before I try and map out where we go from here?”
There is dead silence for several minutes. Then, slowly, Terri opens up, “I don’t know where to begin. A few weeks ago, I was a normal guy…now, I don’t know what I am… I am terrified about these feelings…that I am some sort of pervert…” I sit there…quietly waiting…
Terri senses that I am not going to react and sighs, then says, “OK, that is maybe a bit overly dramatic…but…I really am worried. It is like I fell into some sort of feminization conspiracy…and went for it… What does that make me?” I smile and say, “OK, now we are getting somewhere. You feel like this was a conspiracy? To what end?”
Again, dead silence. I watch him…her(?)…sip some of the hot herbal tea… A shrug and a response, “I don’t know… It doesn’t make sense…that is one of my problems… One day, I am a happy guy… a few days later, I am addicted to girl’s clothes… What am I supposed to think…?” I carefully smile and ask, “OK, so, what is it about the girl’s clothing that you are ‘addicted’ to?”
More dead silence…and more… I am just as silent… Another sip of tea…and a response…, “I don’t know. It started out with me just liking the feel—girl’s clothes are…softer…nicer… you know?” I nod…I genuinely understand… Terri continues, “That was it, at first…then, I don’t know…Christi encouraged me to…let loose…and I found that I like how I look in them…and in…other feminine ways…”
I wait…nothing else comes. I wait a moment longer and ask, “Other things? Does all of this make you…tingle…?” He pales…then blushes…and says…in no particular hurry, sort of pensively, “No…I don’t get a…thrill…in the sense that I think you are asking… Just an awesome feeling that I look…great…and it is comfortable to boot…” Another sip of tea…and a question, “Why is it that girls can wear guy’s clothing and it is not a big deal… BUT, if a guy wears a girl’s clothing…or makeup…or has nice nails…he is a sissy…or…worse? That is so unfair…”
I don’t smile…I have no intention of demeaning his question. I simply say, “I don’t know, Terri. I guess girls have just done a better job over the past decades at social marketing. So, you think guys should have the same right? Let’s not debate fairness—or equality—between guys and gals…OK? But, if it is important to you to be able to wear girl’s stuff…as a guy, then are you willing to fight for that right? I think that is the question of the day… So? Hmmm?”
All of these questions… What DO I want? The right to wear girl’s stuff… Yes!” I sigh… I answer, “Yes. I want to be able to wear things that girls do… I want to be able to wear a dress. I want to be able to wear makeup. I want to be able to show my feminine side—the same as a girl can show a masculine side…and not be ridiculed—or persecuted.”
I am surprised at Joy’s next question—I guess I shouldn’t have been…I just wasn’t prepared… She asks, “So…what are you prepared to do about it? It is in your hands what you do…what are you prepared to do? Become a girl?”
I sit there… How do I answer that? I shrug and turn it back on her… I ask, “Well, I don’t know I guess… Isn’t that why you are here? To help me figure that out?” She actually giggles and smiles as she says, “Yes. I guess I am… OK, Terri…hang out here a few minutes… I will be back.”
M.S. says, “OK, Child, connect to your center and tell me what you see…” I take a deep breath and…the world goes psychedelic… I look in on Terri… I see…lots of flickery electric blue…and fringes of really unstable pink intertwined… I look at M.S. after I disconnect and say, “I don’t know. My instincts tell me Terri is a pretty solid on the male side…but with a strong overlay of femininity. I don’t get that he is overtly female…just that he wants to be like a girl… Although…it seems like he is unsure, too.” Emily comes in and says, “That is exactly what I get from his tests. He is not a transvestite…he is much more than just a cross-dresser, though. He…believes it is…right… I don’t think I have ever really seen this before. He is also really conflicted about it…” I nod and go back into the room.
I look at Terri and ask, “Terri, when I look at those pretty studs in your ears, I can’t help but notice that they are placed where a girl would have them that prefers pretty, dangly earrings over large studs like a boy would want. Was that on purpose?” He gives me a really strange look and says, “Well, no…not really. Christi showed Emily, the girl that pierced my ears, where to put them. I had no idea… But, why do you ask?” I smile and ask, “If I were to get you a nice pair of danglies, would you wear them to work today for me?”
He gets a shocked look on his face, but then smiles and says, “Well…I would if I could, but my holes have not healed yet, so I can’t. Too bad, huh?” I say, “What I am about to do needs to stay between you and me… Don’t worry. It won’t hurt.” I get up and gently take hold of his ears. He flinches a bit and I say, “Trust me…” I concentrate a little…but it does not take much effort…I feel the flow of the energy from my center go through my hands and into his ears… I say, “Now come with me…we need to pick out those danglies and surprise Christi with them. Remember…a promise is a promise…”
Terri is standing in the jewelry store (the one down the street—not one of the ones in the mall)…speechless. He is looking in a mirror at some fairly dainty diamond drop earrings dangling from the front hole in each ear. The earrings are yellow gold to match the studs in the back hole, with a quarter carat diamond in the drop and diamond chips on the lever-back loop in his ear. To say she was surprised that her hole was healed is an understatement…and something I am going to have to talk to him/her about—as soon as I call M.S. and pay—in that order. Not to mention figure what gender to think of him/her as…
I quickly slip outside and pull out my cell phone. A few moments later, I have M.S. on the phone—she is still at the center; thankfully. I give her a quick update of what I had done and then say, “…but I must have done something wrong… His…her…well, Terri’s hair has grown about two inches and…her…fingernails must be half an inch longer, too. It all seems to still be growing at a very fast pace…” M.S. asks me what I did exactly. I say, “I just pushed a trickle of energy into…her…enough to heal the piercings. M.S. chuckles and then gets serious as she says, “Child, a ’trickle’ of energy from you in your state right now is like opening the flood gates of the hoover dam. I seem to remember something about Terri’s nails being in bad shape. I think his/her Mom said that she was giving him some special vitamins to help them. Your energy was too much for just the holes in his/her ears…it looked for something else to heal… There is a reason that some vitamins are marketed for skin, nails, and hair…they are all tied together… It will all likely grow a bit more, then slow to a more normal pace… I think Terri will not have to worry about bad hair, nails, or skin for….a while, though. Please be careful and let me know when you plan to use your energy in the future, OK?” I sigh and hang up.
I pay for the earrings—they are on sale and Terri is my first case, so it feels right… That matching necklace might be the perfect ‘graduation’ present—assuming I get him…her… that far… It is obvious that Terri has noticed the longer hair and nails. I sigh and take her to a park bench and say, “OK, Terri. I may have gotten a little carried away in my enthusiasm. First, I have to apologize to you. I was once forced into something against my will…and it was not my intention to do the same to you. Please do not tell anyone about what I did to your ears…I am not ready for people to know about…my abilities…just yet. Case in point, I just wanted to heal your holes and wound up ‘fixing’ a bit more than planned. I guess I healed your bad hair and nails, too. Your skin is more vibrant and clear, as well. Until I can control this…and achieve just what I am attempting, I don’t need this to get out, OK?” A tentative nod.
I continue, “Now, I hope that is ALL I ‘healed’. We will have M.S. scan you a little later. Who usually does your hair and nails…? Maybe they can fit you in before you have to go to work… Oh, and if you decide that you don’t want your ears pierced after all…just let me know. I did not mean to take that choice away from you. The holes are easily closed up… Although, we will likely let M.S. do that…”
Thirty minutes later, I am sitting in Cindy’s chair and she is trimming up my hair. Unbelievably, it had grown three inches in as many hours. It seems to have slowed down; although, Joy says it may still grow much faster than normal… How she convinced Cindy that it was all due to the vitamins, I have no idea… And the story that girls will sometimes change out earrings even before the holes are healed… Cindy seemed to believe it. Although, she did give me a stern look and tell me to make sure and put my studs back in at night.
When she is done, I have face-framing layers with longer bangs that are parted and flipped back to wing out at the sides. The shortest layers start at my chin and then blend down to the lengths. Overall, I now have a shoulder-length very feminine haircut…and it looks…AWESOME!
My nails are next…it seems all of the unhealthy nail has grown out and I have strong, healthy nails—again growing faster than normally would be the case. Cindy clips them off…leaving them about a quarter-inch long. Considerably longer than a guy would ever consider having them, but at a length that a girl can still comfortably do things without them getting in the way. She shapes them into nice ovals and paints them a hot pink. She trims and files my toenails and paints them a bluish-green. Similar to the peacock blue from before—but more on the greenish side.
I look at myself in the mirror. Joy is doing my makeup. My eyelashes are now full and thick…and…loooooooong…. My skin is flawless and soft… It does not take much makeup to make me…well, beautiful. Well…I was totally freaked. I still have NO idea what just happened, but…I am not going to knock it… I will SO keep Joy’s secret…well, for now…at least until I know more…
“Joy, you have to be careful…at least until you are more…grounded,” M.S. admonishes me. I had just dropped a freshly coiffed and made up Terri off at the mall and returned to the center. I roll my eyes and say, “Now you tell me. I thought it was a simple thing to heal Terri’s ears…I healed your finger. And to be fair…I DID heal the holes…” M.S. chuckles and says, “And so much more… We will scan Terri later and see what else you…healed…besides some hair and nails…” I blush and say, “Well…there is her skin, too. It is ravishingly beautiful right now…” It is M.S.’s turn to roll her eyes and say, “My point exactly…we need to see if there is anything else…”
I sigh and say, "I know. I have called Grace and let her know that I need Terri for a bit after work and that I will bring…her…I really need to figure out pronouns here…him/her home when we are done. I will pick Terri up at the mall at seven…it is luckily an early shift for…her/him today…”
And…as promised…I am waiting outside NY&C at seven when Terri comes out. I take a quick look and there does not seem to have been any more significant changes, so I ask, “So, how did it go, Terri. Did everyone like the changes?” He…she…grins and says, “Yes. Christi was ecstatic at my hair and the earrings. She liked my longer nails, too—and that I am wearing makeup. I had to tell her that these are extensions in my hair and I just longer tips on my nails… She didn’t have a hard time believing that I changed out my earrings—I guess she did the same thing when her holes were new, too…” I smile and ask as we walk down the street to the center, “So…how did it all feel to you?”
Terri pauses a moment, then starts walking again and says, “Well, it felt great actually. I love the hair, and the nails, and the makeup…and the earrings…thank you so much. But wearing these types of things at the store, where no one I know would typically ever come—at least none of the guys—well, that is different than wearing this stuff at school. And, I still don’t understand what you did to me…how did you…I mean my holes…my hair…? And I feel sort of…different…now…”
A Nun looks at me with concern. Joy introduces her as ‘Mother Superior’, or M.S. for short. She says, “Explain to me exactly what you mean by you feel ‘different’ now.” I fiddle with a paper clip that is laying on the table and shrug. I sigh and say, “It is hard to explain… I feel better… More…whole… I don’t know… I still don’t know what happened…” M.S. smiles and says, “Well, Joy asked you to keep this quiet, since not many people outside of this room know her secret—yet. And she still has a lot to learn, it seems…” She gives her a pointed, but affectionate look. She looks back at me and continues, “Joy has some of the same abilities that I do. Healing is one of them. She had intended to just heal your piercings, but got a bit carried away it seems. She did, well let’s say…too good a job. We know you had some issues with your nails because of a vitamin deficiency? That same deficiency would have also affected your skin and hair. When Joy pushed extra healing energy into you, it healed those issues, as well. I need to do a scan on you and see if I can discern any additional…’healing’ that may have happened…”
They have me lay down and M.S. lays her hands on me. I shudder and she smiles and says, “Don’t worry, Terri, I am not pushing any energy—this is purely a scan. Unlike Joy, I have to touch you to do so.” She seems to concentrate for a few minutes with her eyes closed and asks Joy, “OK, Joy. You had said that earlier you had noticed a strong main masculine stream with fringes of a feminine one. What do you see now?”
I quickly connect to my center and the fact that the world goes psychedelic doesn’t even fully register anymore. I scan Terri and notice some distinct changes. I sigh and say, “Well, the blue/male stream seems smaller. The pink/female stream is larger and…more fully intertwined with the male one…and there is now a third stream that was not there before…it is…sort of purple…like it is a mix of the two, but more on the pinkish side of purple. It is the largest stream now…and tightly entwined with the other two. I am not sure what that means, though.”
I disconnect from my center and look at M.S. who is folding her hands in her lap. Terri is sitting up with a questioning look on…her…face. M.S. looks at…her…I decide to go with ‘her’ for now…until I can talk more with her and fully decide… Anyway, M.S. looks at her and says, “Joy is right. Her energy surge seems to have tried to reconcile some of your subconscious issues… The ‘streams’ Joy was talking about are your ‘gender’ streams for lack of a better word…what gender you subconsciously consider yourself to be. You were very conflicted on that before the energy surge…you are now less conflicted…but also less polar. I think that further energy infusion could help fully rectify the misalignment…however, I also noted some subtle changes in your sex streams…you physical sex that is…it has become slightly more female… That is why your skin cleared up more like a girl’s…it could still cause additional effects; I am not sure. At this point, I highly advise against providing you with further energy until we study this some more…”
I look at M.S. I am…confused… I ask, “I don’t know why you can figure out what of all those colors is the ‘sex’ stream… But aside from that, I don’t understand how the energy I infused into Terri would have influenced that stream at all… Why did healing energy affect Terri’s sex? That IS the question, isn’t it? If Terri, or Terri’s subconscious, or Terri’s body thinks it needs to be more female to be ‘well’…” I blink in sudden clarity, hop up, and give M.S. a kiss on the cheek and say, “Thanks, M.S.! You have been a great help!” She gives me a confused look and waves limply as I rush out of the room.
About an hour later, Terri is in my office. I hand her a cup of tea and we settle in. I take a careful sip to give Terri a chance to get in the right frame of mind and then I ask, “OK, Terri. I have a question that I really need an answer on for my own purposes. It is OK if you are not fully settled on an answer, but I think you need to be clear on this for yourself, as well… How do you think of yourself? Do you think of yourself as boy…or as a girl?”
Terri sits there quietly for a few minutes, just cradling the cup of tea in front of her face and blowing the steam away from her. I just patiently wait. She finally takes a sip of the tea, puts the cup down, and puts her hands under her legs as she leans forward. She says, “I don’t know. That is the problem. I never really thought about it. I was a guy. I mean, you know…I had no reason to question that. Even up to the point where you injected your…energy…into me, well, I still considered myself a guy…just a confused one that suddenly liked girl’s clothes. Now…I don’t know. I don’t feel like neither…or maybe BOTH is the better word for it…and it feels…well, it feels OK. Does that make sense? It doesn’t to me…”
I sit and listen carefully. OMG, I have seriously made a mistake here…how do I fix this? This is going to take some major meditation and a group meeting with M.S. and the girls… At least the purple stream is clear now… I nod and say, “I believe it does, Terri. And I am afraid I may have unintentionally caused you some…confusion with my energy. I fully believe we will be able to correct anything I have done, but I have to tread carefully on that. What I believe happened is that over the past several days you have become comfortable in girl’s clothes. On top of that, you have a girlfriend that has been actively encouraging you to appear much more feminine; I think she actually may have even been encouraging you to go all the way and dress ‘en femme’ one hundred percent…?” Terri nods as I continue, “This created a sort of conflict in your subconscious streams… That is why I saw both masculine and feminine gender streams in my early scans… They were separate and distinct—but fully intertwined with one another. When I pushed the healing energy into you, it did exactly what your subconscious wanted at that moment…to feel OK with your conscious choice to please your girlfriend. The easiest way to accomplish that was to actually mix the streams…make you gender neutral if you will…but biased more towards the feminine side, since that is how you increasingly want to appear.”
I sit back and sip some tea to let that sink in a bit. I continue, “That is not all, though. There have been changes to your sex streams, as well. To be honest, I can’t see that. I mean I can, I just don’t know how to read it yet. M.S. is sure, though. Anyway, your desire to appear more feminine is driving changes in your body to accommodate that wish—thanks to my energy. That is the reason for the feminine skin, nails, and hair. Guys just don’t have the hormones for what you are exhibiting.” Terri pales and I continue, “I don’t think it has affected your…little guy…that much, but you likely have elevated female hormones at this point. We need to check that—again, M.S. can help me confirm it all. If so, and left like that, you will develop other female characteristics…likely at an accelerated rate…”
Terri blushes and asks, “Can I show you something?” I say, “Of course,” and Terri gets up and closes the door to my office. She unbuttons her blouse; I can’t help but notice that she is not showing any signs of difficulty with the left-hand buttons, or with the long nails. She takes off the blouse and then her camisole. She clearly has enlarged nipples, large areolae, and budding breasts. She says, “I thought I was going crazy. I couldn’t even tell Mom…” She starts to tear up a bit and I come over and hug her. I say, “It’s OK, Sweetie. We will work through this and fix things back to normal…whatever that turns out to be for you.” She dries her tears with a tissue I hand her and gets dressed as I ask, “So, given this…development… Do you agree that maybe going with the female pronoun for you at this point is best? You may not intend to be a girl…but I think you still intend to present as one?” Terri thinks a second and then nods.
I meet Mom at the mall on her lunch break. Joy insisted that I talk to her… I had gotten here first and grabbed a booth in one of the restaurants that is not too busy and is pretty private. We order and I quickly bring her up to speed; then say, “I guess I need to go and buy a bra…” Once Mom knows that I am really OK, she giggles and says, “We will go right after we eat…it won’t matter if I am a little late back from lunch. What good is it being the boss if you can’t be late once in a while for good reason?”
After we have finished eating, Mom takes me to Victoria’s Secret and gets me measured for a bra. I carefully watch how the girl does it. Joy made it quite clear that I would grow to whatever size I was going to at an accelerated rate and I will likely need to do the measuring myself for a while. What I had now had grown overnight…so, there is no need to get a lot of bras, since they likely soon won’t fit… The girl pronounces me an A-cup--barely…more like an A+-cup. Mom picks out several pairs of lacy panties and I get one matching bra that the girl recommends as a very popular style. It is very feminine-looking…and is a padded, push-up style. Mom insists that I put it on before we leave and I am looking at myself in the mirror in the little changing stall. I get a little tingle of excitement… I am wearing a BRA…because I NEED to… I put the blouse on without the camisole and…it fits much better, since it is actually cut for this type of figure. The bra makes me look like I have C-cups…and gives me real cleavage that I grin at as I button up the blouse so that it is not visible… Not that the bra is not slightly visible through the white blouse…
I come out and Mom gawks at me a second, then hugs me. I see us in one of the floor-length mirrors strategically placed throughout the store. It looks like two women hugging…even my girl jeans are fitting better…
Mom takes my VS bag and leaves to go back to work. Since it is just a little under an hour before my shift starts, I just hang out at the mall. Then, on a whim, I go up to the store early. Amanda is there greeting people and almost doesn’t recognize me. She exclaims, “TERRI?! Is that you?” I smile and hug her. I ask for a favor—to surprise Christi. Ten minutes later, I am trying several different skirts. I show Amanda each one and we both agree on one. I put on a new pair of tights and then put the pink pencil skirt back on. Luckily, I had worn my good booties. Overall, it looked great. I am actually getting a figure that can pull this off… I am beyond confused at me feelings of…contentment…
Amanda adds the cost of the tights and the skirt to my growing NYC bill, with Ms. M.’s approval—both on the transaction and the look… And then Christi comes in…
I am sitting in my conference room with M.S., Emily, and Shauna. I am fighting tears…hard… I look at them all one-by-one, then focus on M.S. and ask, “What have I done, M.S.?” M.S. uses a tool from my kit and just waits as I continue with a shaky breath, “Have I condemned that poor boy to something she doesn’t want? Is it my fault? Have I…forced her into something she doesn’t really want?” I bow my head in shame and feel the tears start to well up.
M.S. waits a minute and then says, “Look at me, Joy! Child, your energy just let Terri’s subconscious manifest itself. You can’t blame yourself for that. The difference between your transformation and hers is that I made sure you really had a chance to think things through and that your subconscious was in tune with your conscious choices. I did not have the energy to force that confluence. That is what you have done for Terri. It is very likely that Terri would have wound up pretty much where she is now subconsciously without your intervention—only it would have taken a lot longer… You have spared her a lot of grief on that front.” She grins lop-sided and continues, “That being said, I don’t necessarily advise that as a mainstream treatment option—although, you have the degree on that front…” She smiles and goes on, “Anyway, let’s just let Terri catch up with her changes. If her subconscious goes a different route, then we can adjust things to that—once. You can’t take responsibility for her choices forever. But, once she is sure of herself, then a single, final intervention, that I help you with, will settle this…right?” She looks at me, concerned, and asks, “Or—are you saying that you regret your choice…?”
It takes Christi a full two minutes to realize that it is me talking to Amanda. We both play it cool and act like we haven’t noticed her come in; Ms. M. is across the room—quietly watching. Then…Christi notices it is me…and she (barely) stifles a scream…thankfully. Ms. M. smiles, happy that her daughter has found someone that can make her unusual preference happy… she goes in the back as Christi rushes over to me and gives me a big hug. Thankfully, the store is empty at the moment, since she pulls me to the back and gives me a big kiss on the lips.
We both clock in and I find that every time that I look over at Christi, she is staring at me. At one point, her Mom gets onto her to pay attention to the customers and not me! I smile at that…it feels good to be the center of her attention.
When we get off work, we both go to the food court for a drink…and I don’t even really think about the fact that I am in a skirt outside the ‘safety’ of the store… I get home a little later than usual because of that, but Mom is still up. To say that she is surprised at my outfit would be an understatement. But, she loves the skirt and asks about my mounting bill at the store. I tell her that I will work it off and that it is OK. She just smiles and writes me out a check for the whole amount—plus some to get a few more clothes. She just says, “A girl can’t have too many clothes…and with your discount, you have already gotten a lot for what you would have paid for about one nice outfit somewhere else. If this is really how you want to dress—take advantage of it.”
I hug her and get ready for bed…
I look at M.S. in shock and ask, “How can you even seriously ask that? You of all people should know that I am fully committed…and happy with my choice to become a girl. It is the repercussions of my unintended consequences that I am unhappy with. How can I live with this…gift…you have given me, if I can’t fully control it?”
M.S. sighs and asks Shauna to make a big pot of tea. She waits until we are all settled; tea in front of each us. Then she continues, “What I am about to say does not leave this room, understood?” She looks at each of us and gets our nod of agreement. Then she says, “Shauna’s family knows some of this; but I don’t believe even Shauna knows what I am about to say. If we are going to be working together, then you all have the right to know…especially of Joy continues down her path.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep sip of hot tea. She sighs and says, “As you all know, I am older than I appear. I am not going to say how old—it is irrelevant—but let’s just say that you will also have a much longer-than-usual life-span, Joy. I have had…decades…to grow into my power, learn to refine them, use them…and have them now ebbing. You, Child, are not even close to full tide yet. Don’t blame yourself for not understanding what you are capable of…not to mention what you will be capable of…”
She sits and lets that sink in. We all sit stunned and she continues, “You must understand that the powers that you and I share, Joy, are rare…but we are not unique. I am keeping you out of site from those that know of those powers for several reasons. First, while you passed my purity test, you are still vulnerable to being swayed to misusing your energy… Think of it like Star Wars—George Lucas didn’t have it too wrong. Sometimes I wonder whether he knows more than he lets on, but that is another story. Anyway, there really is something like the ‘Force’…that is where your energy flows from. There also is something like the ‘Dark Side’…there are some with control of the energy that choose to use it for darker purposes. In my youth, I fought those individuals in the name of the Church. Someday, I will tell you more about that, maybe… Anyway, Shauna’s family, while rarely with power themselves, has long worked with those of us on the good side…”
She takes some more tea as she continues, “I have told you bits and pieces of this, Joy. I was not planning on telling you this much—yet—but recent events make it necessary. The Church once made me ‘heal’ one individual over another. Both of the individuals were prime candidates as energy conduits—which is basically what we are… Some people are suited to channel the energy, once certain ‘switches’ are turned on in their bodies—for lack of a better explanation. That is what I did for you when you I ‘gave’ you your energy; I turned on your switches. Some people can channel more energy than others… Anyway, I wanted to switch on one of the individual’s channels and not the others. I was convinced that it was the right choice. The Church made me do it the other way around… It turns out that I was right…in a way. Had I switched on the person’s channels that I wanted, we would have gained a mediocrely powerful ally, at best. It also turns out the Church was right in a way—turning on the other person’s channels created a much more powerful conduit…but one that turned…well, evil. I created the most powerful monster this earth has ever seen… Of course, I couldn’t know at that point how bad it would turn out. The Church gambled and lost…two allies; the monster that I created…and me. I swore not to turn on any more channels…ever… Actually, I swore to not use my channeling powers ever again…”
We are sitting there wide-eyed… She continues, “The Church hid me away in cloisters and I have been in the guise of…several…nuns over the years… Then I came to Saint Paul’s. I knew my conduits were weakening and I decided that maybe it was my chance to make right what I had wronged…turn on one more person’s channels…for the good of humanity. I devised a special screening test—the one that you passed, Joy. An initial scan that I got of you early on, when you were unaware of me even doing it, confirmed what I hoped…I believed you to be a prime candidate… But…I had to be sure…so…well, I let the girls here…basically torture you… It was a hard choice for me…but, through it all, you remained pure. Sure, you had your doubts…even resentment…but you never acted on it… After things went even a bit further than even I had planned…I brought you in and did a deep scan…it confirmed my hopes… I pushed as much energy as my waning channels allowed and it healed you. It set your channels to a pre-open state. When you made the commitment to become ‘Joy’—to accept the change…they opened. But, here is the thing…your channels are expanding…just like…Vincent’s, the evil person I created, did… You have the potential to become a much greater conduit than even he became…but I have to protect you until you are ready… If the Church finds out what I have done, they will surely pressure you to join with them… If Vincent and his cronies find out…they will surely try and recruit you…or kill you before you grow too powerful…”
She sighs at my pale and blank stare. She says, “I am sorry for deceiving you, Joy. I am telling you all of this before you are really ready to hear it, because you need to understand that there are things that happen that you can’t control… You have to stay true to your course…you are grieving what you have done to Terri. That is good—remember that; it will be important for learning restraint from the lure of the more evil uses of your channels… BUT, remember that you have also helped this girl, too… Stay patient with me…I will teach you… When you are ready…we can look for others that are candidates…we can make a difference…but you have to grow first. Helping people like Terri through their struggles is one of the best lessons that you can begin with…along with the ballet and yoga…” She smiles wanly and sits back quietly awaiting my reaction…
I remove my makeup and moisturize like I had been shown. I slip on a silk nighty that Mom had given me and marvel at the growing breasts pertly bumping out…complete with ‘headlights’ in the cool air of my room. I smile and slip under the covers.
It doesn’t take my long to fall asleep, but I have strange dreams…of becoming…well, I don’t know… I am a woman, but not. I am guy, but not. I am beautiful…every woman’s dream…every guy’s wet dream… Somehow, it doesn’t feel wrong, though… Finally, the dreams fade and I fall into a deep dreamless sleep…
I look at M.S.—still in deep shock. Emily is holding my hand—as shocked as I am. Shauna is sitting there a bit pale, but not really shocked. I look at her and ask, not quite in an accusatory tone, “You knew about…this…; about me?” Shauna shakes her head and M.S. says, “No, Joy. Shauna’s family is the driving force behind a certain…order… But, not everyone in the family is fully indoctrinated—and those that are have to be of a certain age. I have broken one of their rules to bring her in on this. I will talk with her father later. Now I assume you have some questions. I will answer a few tonight, then I want you to sleep on what you have learned. The choice is yours what you do with your power…I certainly went for…years…without using mine.” She sits back again…quiet.
I look at Emily, still holding my hand, and smile. I give Shauna a comforting look—to let her know I am not mad at her. Then I look back at M.S. and say, “To say I have questions is likely the understatement of the past millennium! You have given me some answers to questions I didn’t even know I had…and raised a thousand more. Where do I start? So, you have ‘opened’ my…’channels’ and that is how this works… Does everyone have these channels…? I just thought that you had infused me with energy…did I open channels in Terri when I healed her?”
M.S. asks Shauna to order us something to eat… As she goes to order pizza, M.S. makes more tea and says as she tinkers with the pot, “No, you did not open any channels in Terri. Only certain people have that capability. In olden times, we were called witches…I guess people today would still call us that… I don’t like the term…especially because of where I came from, but for simplicity’s sake, let’s use that term for now… So the old myths about witches are basically true… Most witches have elemental powers; in other words, they can channel elemental energy: Earth, wind, fire, or water. Some special ones can channel more than one type of energy. A few really special ones can channel all four…those are the healers. I am one of those. And so…” “…am I,” I finish. M.S. nods and says, “It takes a lot of energy and quite some skill to open a person’s closed channels. Most people have channels. Some are even born with open ones, but they are usually not very good conduits…which is the term I prefer over witch… Anyway, Terri does not have the potential to be a good conduit. Neither does Shauna or Emily before you ask. Sorry, girls.”
I sit back and blow out my air in frustration. I ask, “OK, so this ‘Victor’ dude? You said he turned…evil…but you don’t think I will…at least without nurturing or something?” M.S. looks at me hard and says, “Just as the myths about the elemental powers are true, so are the ones about good and evil. The energy itself is neither good nor bad. The conduit’s intentions when using it are, however. Everyone has both good and evil in them. Anytime that you use your channels for good, that temporarily weakens your shields protecting you from your evil side…the ‘dark side’, if you will. That is why you feel tired when you are done. The difference between say me and Victor is that I…’ground’ my evil side before using my channels for good. I let the energy flow for good…the side of me that wants to use my channels for evil is drained of energy through that ‘ground’. For Victor, it is the opposite… By the way, it is easier to ground the good side than the evil one…that means that it is inherently easier to use your channels for evil than good. Also, the more you use your channels for bad, the more you burn out your capability to ground the bad side. At some point, you can’t anymore…you are for all intents and purposes stuck in ‘evil’ mode…”
She waits for Shauna to go pay for the pizza that was delivered. Then she continues as we help ourselves to the hot, gooey, goodness, “Victor was not inherently evil. He fell into the hands of some people that coaxed him into burning out his capability to ground his bad side…while brainwashing him into doing bad things… Now, I am not sure that there is much good left in him. If all of this sounds like I am talking about Darth Vader, or something, I assure you I am not. Make no mistake—Victor is not your Father and he is consumed with evil. You have very strong shields and inherently strong grounding capabilities…on either side…if you ever lost your ability to ground your bad side…it would leave you with immense channels that could only serve your evil side. That would either literally drive you insane—or turn you…”
M.S. refuses to answer any more questions for tonight. We finish our pizza and clean up. I go home and get ready for bed…lost in deep thought about what I had just heard. I fall into a restless sleep and dream about a ‘Yoda’ that looks suspiciously like M.S. She takes me to the same cave that Luke had gone into to fight Darth Vader… I wake up just before Vader’s mask disappears to reveal who it is… My heart is pounding and there is no way I am falling back to sleep. I sigh and get up to read up on ‘witches’ on the internet…
I am sitting in Joy’s office. It is almost nine o’clock in the morning and Joy is bleary-eyed and drinking what looks like a really strong cup of coffee that Shauna had brought her. I am sipping on a cup of hot tea. Joy takes a sip of coffee, closes her eyes for a second, opens them and smiles weakly at me. She says, “Sorry, Terry, I didn’t sleep well last night. I had some bad dreams—but you look rested.” I smile back and say, “It didn’t start out that way for me either. I was having some…strange dreams when I first fell asleep, too.”
Joy gives me an interested look and takes another sip of coffee. Then she asks, “Do you remember them? Can you tell me about them?” I sigh and explain, “I don’t really know how to tell you. It was really weird. I think the dream was about how I feel about this whole thing.” Joy nods and says, “That is what dreams usually are—your subconscious working its way through difficult situations.” I nod and say, “In the dream I was a…nothing. I mean I was a guy, but not really—and I was a girl, but not really. Then it sort of transitioned and I was beautiful…as a girl. You know the type of drop-dead gorgeous that every girl would envy and every guy would fall all over themselves for… But I was still not really a girl...”
Joy excuses herself and gets some more coffee. When she comes back in, she asks, “So, does that bother you? You want to be a girl?” I shake my head and say, “No, not really. In the dream, I was this beautiful creature, but I was OK with not really being a girl… It is confusing to say the least.” Joy looks at me and asks, “So, is being that beautiful important to you?” I blush and say after a moment, “I guess I am as vain as anybody. Sure, I want to look good.” Joy asks, “As…or better said, like a girl?” I pause…and nod, slightly unsure. After another moment, I say with more conviction, “Yes, I think so. I can’t explain it.”
Joy takes a sip of her coffee, looking more alert now, and says, “Well, we have talked about some of the things that have stirred this desire in you. It is hard to say whether you would have come to this without the circumstances of the past couple of weeks—but, at this point, it is sort of irrelevant. You are there now. The question is, what do you want to do about it?” I sigh and take some sips of tea to cover my discomfort. Then, knowing she won’t give up, I say, “I don’t know. I don’t know that I have much choice. I went with Mom yesterday, like you ‘suggested’ and told her what we had discussed yesterday. She bought me a fairly expensive bra at VS. I didn’t get more than one because I figured it wouldn’t fit too long. Sure enough, I grew another cup size just last night—it already doesn’t fit. My girl’s clothes are fitting much better. The curves they are cut for are starting to match up with my curves… I am getting a feminine figure… My face is looking more feminine; I even think my nose is a little smaller…I don’t know what to do…”
Joy looks at me, unrelenting, and asks, “Yes, I can see all of that. Yet, you still have not said whether it bothers you. You said you were OK with it in your dream. Are you? I want you to think about that. Think about it really hard. I don’t want an answer right now. What I do want is for you to know that what has been done can be undone—if that is what you want. But this is sort of like in the fairy tales—you only get one shot at this. What my energies can do for you is allow your subconscious to manifest itself. That is why what is happening to you now is happening. When you are ready, I will infuse you with more energy to finish out what was unintentionally started—with M.S. guiding me this time. Whatever you have decided you want, to be your old self, to be a full girl, or where you are going now is what will manifest itself. And, yes, I did say a full girl…that can happen if it is really what you want…”
I sit there and blink. Is she kidding me? No—I don’t think so… Look at what is happening to me now… Finally, I nod and we end the session.
I groan as I look at the clock. Seven o’clock and I have a session with Terri in less than two hours. I put on a pot of coffee and take a long hot shower. My night’s ‘research’ on ‘witches’ was less than satisfactory. I will have to use some of the school’s resources, but carefully…
With strong coffee in hand, my eyes feeling like they have been sand-blasted, I have my session with Terri. I am taken aback by how much more…feminine she looks; just since yesterday. She is getting a figure that won’t quit…and her face…is becoming quite stunning.
I think we are making progress…I am learning as much from this as she is, though. I finally understand that I really didn’t change Terri. I just allowed Terri to change Terry. The problem is that it may have been premature to allow that change…the internal struggle between Terry and Terri had not been settled—it was still too influenced by Christi’s involvement. Well, and the unintentional chaos caused with the girl’s clothing. I now am confident that things will be put right, once Terri decides on what she wants…whatever that may be—although, I have my suspicions.
I leave Joy’s center and take the short bus ride to the mall. My first order of business is to get a new bra. I don’t go to VS this time, since it would just be a waste of money, I am sure. I go into Sears and find a B-cup bra that should fit according to my measurements. I pay for it and go up to NYC. I hug Amanda who has a surprised look on her face—I guess my changes are noticeable to more than just me. I go into one of the changing booths and exchange the sports bra that I had borrowed from Mom for the new ‘real’ bra. It is still the pushup kind that makes me look more like a C-cup; but it has less padding than my old one.
I go through the store and pick out a couple of skirts and some more tops…not worrying about them being able to pass a guy’s shirt, this time. When it is time to pay, I hand Ms. M. the check Mom had written out and only have to add ten dollars of my own money to cover the new purchases. Ms. M. gives me my check that she would have withheld to pay for my stuff before Mom paid and I go back into the mall to get some shoes to go with my new outfits.
An hour later, I am on the bus home…somewhat poorer, but three pair of shoes richer. I get off the bus and walk the short distance to the house. I wave to Mrs. Constance next door, who gives me a double-take. Even though I am in jeans and t-shirt, I guess I just present now as ‘feminine’…
I really need to think this through… What DO I want…? This feels good…right… But IS it right?
Shortly after Terri leaves, Emily knocks and comes into my office. She comes over gives me a kiss and says, “Hey Lover, you look like crap!” I smile wanly and say, “Yeah. It is probably a good thing you couldn’t stay over last night… I got about thirty minutes of sleep. I am running on pure caffeine right now…and you know me; I am not the coffee type.” Emily rubs my shoulders and says, “I guess M.S. is the cause of that lack of sleep?” I smile and say, “Well, her story certainly was. At least it did help me work through some things as far as Terri goes. I have a better understanding of what is happening. I still have no idea how to control it, though.” Emily finds a knot in my shoulder and expertly kneads it out. She says, “Well, what I got from M.S. is that you are not supposed to be able to—yet. I think you just need to be patient with her on that front. Ask questions, certainly. But trust her to guide you through this… I mean, what other choice do you really have?”
She gives me another kiss and goes back to her office. A few moments later, M.S. comes in. Shauna comes in right behind her with a pot of hot tea. M.S. just raises an eyebrow when she sees my cup of coffee. She smiles and asks, “Rough night?” I come over and sit at the table with her and say, “You could say that.” She laughs good-naturedly when I tell her about my ‘Darth Vader’ dream. She just listens as I tell her about my fruitless research on witches. She shows a great deal of interest as I tell her about my insights into my latest session with Terri. When I am done, she smiles and says, “Well, it seems you have had quite a time the last several hours…”
She takes a sip of tea and smiles at the taste. Shauna is becoming quite adept at making it—although, I really need to get a receptionist to do this sort of thing… It is quite below Shauna’s pay grade—not that she is complaining… M.S. continues, “We’ll talk about your dream in a bit. As for your research on witches…well, it will be interesting to see what you come up with.” She smiles and says, “Be careful. Don’t let people realize what you are researching…there would be difficult questions. We can talk about what you find out…it should be an interesting discussion. As for Terri; I am glad that you have settled down on that. Your insight is absolutely correct.”
She sips some more tea and continues, “Now for your dream. I don’t think I have to explain that to you, right?” She smiles as I shake my head. She continues, “So, I assume you do have more questions, though, right?” I sigh and nod…
I switch to a cup of tea and gather my thoughts. M.S. quietly waits. Finally, I ask, “One thing I am trying to understand…you said my…treatment as Joey was a test? First, how could you know that I would put myself into that position? Second, what would have happened if I had failed?” M.S. smiles and says, “Good questions. I had no idea that you would put yourself in that particular situation; although, given your upbringing, that was not a stretch, hmmm? The thing is that you would have been put into a different set of circumstances to test you if you had not let that one arise. As for what would have happened had you failed…? Well, I was confident that you would not, but if you had, I would have removed your memories of what had happened and your scholarship at St. Paul’s would have been terminated—to be replaced with one at another institution; across the country, of course, where you would have started fresh as Joey.”
I nod slowly and let that settle in. Then I ask, “OK. You said that we need to ground our ‘evil’ side, but that it is easier to ground our good side…to act on the side of evil. I have no idea how to ground myself…yet, I have used my energy… How does that work?” M.S. smiles and says, “My, you were paying attention. Yes, you have not been taught how to ground yourself. The thing is, you instinctively ground yourself on your evil side and draining off that energy. We will work on consciously doing that later—on knowing the difference between grounds… It is important that you not use the energy with the intent of something bad, though…you would likely instinctively ground your good side and that would not be good…” I nod slowly and say, “Ok, I guess that makes sense. So, where to now? I mean there is still so much for me to learn…”
M.S. smiles and says, “Patience, Child. It took me decades to learn to fully control my energy channels. Yours are not even fully developed, yet. Keep working on your physical balance and mental self-control. Ballet and yoga will help you there. We will keep taking cases here at the center. Working together, you will learn to read the streams and see the channels for the different elements. After that, we can work on grounding the sides…”
The rest of the week goes by quickly and Christi and I hang out at the mall some on the weekend. We also spend some time at her house. It is all about trying on different things. My breasts have finally quit growing—I am a largish C-cup. I am also a perfect size two—with all the curves that go with it. I have grown a couple of inches, so I am now a ‘regular’, almost a ‘tall’, rather than a ‘short’.
I spend a lot of time talking to Christi about how her desires had influenced mine. I also talk to Mom a lot. Sessions with Joy have sort of stalled—until I am clearer about what I want. I also spend a lot of time just meditating and reflecting on my own. I even try going to yoga with Joy—how that is supposed to help you relax, I have no idea…
Finally, on Monday, I think I know what I want to tell Joy. I just am not sure that she will accept my decision…
Terri comes in, right on time, and I can tell that she is both relieved and worried. I set out our pot of tea, pour us both a cup, and sit down to await what she has to say. She is quiet for quite some time, then begins, “Joy, I think I have come to a decision.” I look at her and smile—I don’t say anything and just wait. She continues, “I…I…I want to stay looking like a girl…but I don’t want to be a girl…at least not yet. I have come to like myself the way I am right now over the past several days, but…I don’t think I want to take that full step into womanhood… Is…is…is that OK?”
I smile and go give her a hug. I just hold her a bit and then say, “Of course it is OK. It is your body; your life. But—we are going to have to do another session to stabilize your streams. You are in sort of a limbo right now and M.S. is worried. Are you ready to go through with a session? She can be here in a few minutes? Are you really at peace with yourself—internally, I mean?” She nods and I ask Shauna to call M.S. and have her come over.
About half an hour later, I am laying on the couch again. M.S. has her hands on—and so does Joy. M.S. is explaining something to Joy about my ‘streams’ and Joy is nodding. Then M.S. says, “OK, Joy. Just a small trickle—it won’t take much at this stage…”
I feel warmth-starting where Joy’s hands are, then radiating throughout my body. It tingles a bit—then…it is over. M.S. keeps her hands on me and Joy is giving me that far-away look that I have leaned means that she is ‘scanning’ me. M.S. says, “Oh my. That is interesting.” Joy asks, “What does it mean, though?”
M.S. and Joy go into the conference room and shut the door behind them—leaving me alone in the room on the couch. After a few minutes, they come back out and Joy says, “Well, Terri. You are stabilized. But not in the manner that neither M.S. or I would have guessed—nor in a way either of us has ever seen. It is remarkable that it happened so quickly; that is an indicator that you really are OK with this…development.”
She pauses, then continues, “Remember I told you that you had developed sort of a ‘mixed’ gender stream, but that there were still smaller female and male streams intertwined—like they didn’t know where to go? Well, that mixed stream, the purple one, is all that you have now… For all intents and purposes, from a gender standpoint, you are neither male nor female—although it is a really pinkish purple; so you lean heavily towards the feminine side. Your sex streams are what are really interesting, though. Yes, I said streams… You have both a male and female sex stream. Both are completely intertwined, like a strand of twisted rope… Like your gender, you are now both male and female, physically—in other words, you are a fully functioning hermaphrodite. I really can’t tell you how your…body…well, your…genitals…will change to reflect that. But it seems that this is all in harmony with how your psyche…”
I look at them…and grin. I say, “I am both male and female… That is so awesome! That is perfect! I mean it is weird and I don’t know how I will explain it…”
M.S. speaks up, “Terri, there is a doctor that I know that should become your doctor. She understands a thing or two about streams and channels…and what they can do… Most doctors would see this a problem that needs to be fixed… Now, you just have to sort out what you are going to do about school. From what my scans show, you will completely retain your feminine looks…maybe even develop them further…”
Joy speaks up and says, “You can always go to a different school. One where you are not known…” I shake my head and say, “No. Christi is at my school now. I will just have to tough it out. I don’t care what others say, now. I am comfortable with myself. Also, my school has a great fashion-feeder program. I think I want to get into fashion school and design ‘feminine’ clothing…for men. It is about time that someone takes that on!”
A week later:
Case log – Terri Kinsley. Final Entry:
M.S. has put Terri in touch with Dr. Recht. She will closely monitor Terri’s development as a hermaphrodite and let us know if there is something that I will need to intervene on, health wise. She is fully aware that this is what Terri wants.
M.S. is also going to pull some strings to help Terri get into fashion school. I am sure we have not heard the last of this young lady.
Case 1 – Closed