Christmas Tide.
by Angharad.
Jeremy hated his name, he also hated being a boy but it seemed there was little he could do about it. Another of his dislikes was Christmas. He'd secretly asked Santa to change him into a girl, he'd done the same at church and nothing happened. Then as he got a little older and towards the onset of puberty, he felt even more despair. His contemporaries in school, the boys at least, were sprouting spots and facial hair with creaky voices that were deepening and the girls were developing hips and little bulges on their chests. Jeremy looked at the girls with deep envy.
School had broken up for the Christmas holiday and Jeremy took his dog, Winnie, for her daily walk. He'd named her Winnie because when she was a puppy she'd poo anywhere. So she became Winnie the Poo named after his favourite childhood character, the famous 'Bear with little brain,' a bit like his dog.
They lived on the coast, but not a part that was heavily used by holidaymakers. The coastline here was rocky and any beaches difficult to access, especially when carrying all the paraphernalia that tourists seemed to need to use. Jeremy had grown up learning all the best places to bathe or to sunbathe and the best places for beachcombing; he had a box of treasures at home that he'd found on or near the strandline. Fossils and shark's teeth, mermaid's purses and assorted debris that had washed up from rubbish dumped overboard or lost in storms or perhaps just lost.
He'd always wanted to find a message in a bottle, it never happened but something that had happened was finding a bag of white powder weighing perhaps a kilo or more which he showed to his mum and they took it to the police. It turned out to be cocaine and he got a reward for that of two hundred pounds which he put in his savings account. He now had a thousand in it but he knew he'd need lots more and looked forward to getting a job so he could save even more, but the downside was that he'd be turning into a man but there was little he could do to stop it.
That morning, he'd looked at himself in the mirror. His dad called him a stick insect because he was painfully thin despite his healthy appetite and he was far from the tallest boy in his class, if anything he was closer to the shortest with a squeaky voice and fresh complexion, matched by his curly dark hair which was longer than perhaps most other boys wore it, but then, Jeremy was a girl, at least in his own mind.
It was 2019 and Christmas Eve and his parents were busy with shopping to fill the refrigerator with Christmas fare and other last-minute purchases so they seemed quite happy that Jeremy took the dog out instead of getting under their feet and besides, they were getting his present so his absence meant they had more chance of getting it home without him seeing it.
It was cold that day, so he wore his tights under his jeans and over his panties. If his mother had known how he was dressed, she'd have been alarmed, especially if she'd known that under the thick jumper and shirt, he wore a sports bra, hoping that one day he'd have breasts to fill the empty cups. It was why he was saving, to pay for an operation to make him a girl. One day he'd get there, he just had to be patient and at twelve years old, that was difficult as everything seemed to take so long.
Jeremy and Winnie went beachcombing as the previous two days had been quite stormy with strong sou'westerlies that smashed huge waves against the cliffs. Sometimes after that, there were treasures to be found, perhaps some more drugs which could mean another reward and more for his surgical fund.
He felt as warm as toast with all his layers of clothing topped with a weatherproof hooded coat that came down almost to his knees and kept out the wind and rain. He and Winnie scrambled down the slippery path to the shingle beach and began their search for any treasure the sea had released. Most of the strandline was marked with slippery seaweeds of various types including the kelp that had been ripped from deeper water. There was loads of plastic, old pots and bottles, wrappers of all sorts of things from tobacco to foodstuffs. It was a real eyesore but he wouldn't try and collect it today, which he sometimes did to clear the litter.
He had almost completely traversed his beach when he spotted a box, a white cardboard box wrapped in thin, transparent plastic. He trudged across the slippery algae to look at it. It had a name on it, and lots of other writing. It was medicine and as he wiped off the sandy grit from the outside of the plastic, he recognised the name of the medication, it was oestrogen, as in contraceptive pills, the same brand his mother took but had to pay for. He thought he could take them back for her to save her money but after loading the box of a thousand pills into his rucksack, as he walked back towards his house he began to see another use for the pills and wondered if perhaps his prayers had been answered.
He was home before his parents and after stashing the pills in his bedroom in the drawer under his bed, where he kept clothes he no longer wore regularly, and which his mother rarely opened, he began searching the internet for information about how he could use his newfound treasure, could he at long last start to become a girl? His excitement was hard to contain and it puzzled his parents but he passed it off as just being worked up by the thought of Christmas the next day. They didn't query it beyond that, happy to smuggle his present into the house without him seeing it. Now they all had secrets to keep, if only for a day or less or perhaps for quite a bit longer in Jeremy's case, but he'd extracted the first foil strip of the little white pills and hidden them in his wardrobe, he would take his first tomorrow on Christmas day and celebrate his good fortune then.
He continued his beachcombing but never found anything like the pills he'd discovered that Christmas.
Every day he took one of the pills and looked to see if anything was happening to his body. He didn't know how fast it would be if at all because according to his researches, it was a very individual thing. During the summer, he discovered he couldn't go without a shirt as his breasts started budding which delighted him until he realised they would eventually show through his shirts and he'd have to try and disguise it, but he kept taking the pills.
He did have the odd spot but his skin remained soft and smooth and only covered in the finest of peach fuzz, his voice remained high but his hips and bottom began to grow and his jeans which had been loose now became tight in the hips while remaining slack at the waist. By Christmas he was developing a female body, his breasts were evident with growing nipples and his narrow waist and broadening hips together with his longish curly hair made him look like a young woman, only the shrunken penis between his legs sitting in front of his very small scrotum showed his original sex. He was delighted with the changes and also that his parents hadn't noticed.
In school, he managed to get by disguising or binding his breasts or suggesting he'd got gynaecomastia or boy boobs and that they'd disappear eventually, not that he had many friends amongst the boys and he tended to sit with a gang of girls in the lunch times. One or two became his friends and he'd let them play with his long hair and put makeup on him, which they thought was a hoot to do to a boy, even a good natured one like him. He even went with his best friend Carly, to her hairdresser and had his hair trimmed, both of them pretending he was a girl called Jessica. The hairdresser told 'her' that she had lovely hair, strong and thick but needed to take more care of it. Jessica promised to do so and while she was there, Carly persuaded her to have her ears pierced, which was no big deal these days as half the boys sported one or both ears decorated with an earring or stud.
"Are you pleased with your hair?" asked Carly realising that perhaps Jessica wasn't seeing this a game.
"Oh yes, yes I love it and I'm going to ask Mummy to get some better shampoo and conditioner."
Carly smiled knowingly, Jeremy didn't usually call his mother, Mummy. Was he just role-playing or was something else going on? She decided to check. "You enjoyed being taken as a girl, didn't you?"
Jessica blushed from toes to her scalp and replied in a very small voice, "Yes."
"You like being a girl, don't you?"
Jessica's face creased as if in pain and her eyes began to fill with tears. "Yes," said the same small voice. A tear ran down her face.
"Oh, don't cry, Jess, I like you as a girl and we all think of you as one anyway. Even some of the boys think of you as more of a girl than a boy."
"I am a girl," was said so quietly that Carly had to ask Jessica to repeat it. "I'm a girl, there I've said it." Jessica stood up more straight and walked on. "I'm a girl and proud of it."
Carly wasn't sure what to think let alone say, so she walked along behind and kept quiet. After a few minutes, she asked, "Does your mum know about your, you know whats?" she nodded towards Jessica's breasts.
Jessica shrugged, "Dunno if she does she hasn't said anything.
"Do you disguise them at home like you do in school?" asked Carly.
"Usually yeah, why?"
"Shouldn't you perhaps tell her to see why you're turning into a girl?"
"Why, I'm quite happy with my body?" Jessica threw back at her but knew that at some point she would be discovered, she simply wanted to get to a stage where they would have to accept that she was more girl than boy and let her transition to her preferred role, except she knew that she'd end up at the doctor's and a blood test would show she'd taken tablets and they'd stop her. She promised herself, she wouldn't disclose where she kept them but if they really searched for them, she needed a more secure hiding place. That would need some serious thought and soon.
She decided to keep a part used strip where they could find it but keep the bulk in something like her dad's old toolbox which he hardly ever used as he wasn't very mechanical and claimed that modern cars needed a computer more than spanner to repair them. She wrapped the pills in a plastic bag and put them between the two blocks of wood the toolbox sat on to keep it off the floor of the garage and reduce risk of rusting. Unless you knew they were there, no one would see them yet they were quite accessible.
Jeremy's mother noticed the ear studs, little blue crystals and without saying anything started to look harder at her son. His hair was well below his shoulders but seemed much more shaped. Usually, he wore it in a low ponytail, but today it was down and it was only when he pushed it behind his ear to use his earbuds for his iPod that she noticed the ear stud. A bit more careful observation and she saw its matching neighbour. The tee shirt he was wearing wasn't the one he went out in, they were different colours, she was pretty sure of that and his jeans - goodness, he was wearing girl's ones and they fitted across his hips and bottom like a girl which she only noticed because the loose gilet thing he had on rode up when he bent down to pick up some money he'd dropped. His mum took a deep breath and decided she needed to talk to Jeremy and also to his dad but before that, she needed to see if changes were happening to his chest, as he seemed to deliberately try to prevent anyone seeing it. Perhaps she'd do it when he was ready for bed as no one wears very much as nightclothes. Her plan was set, she'd do it that night. Instead, it was the next day when things happened, Christmas day.
Her plan didn't actually get to implementation as she accidentally opened the bathroom door while he was washing and they both gasped, Jeremy because she had caught him unguarded and undisguised and his mum because she saw her son looked like a young woman. What the hell was going on? She told him as soon as he was dressed that she wanted to speak with him.
He nearly died and burst into tears, he knew this would end badly and even wondered about trying to jump out the window, except it was too high and if he hurt an ankle or something, they'd catch him anyway and he'd still have to deal with the interrogation. Feeling like a condemned woman, Jeremy finished shaving her legs and after creaming everything, went to get dressed. He didn't know whether to try and hide things and bluff it out or to wear some fitted stuff and tell them he was really a girl. It was Christmas day, no doctor would be working except at the hospital for the next couple of days so they wouldn't be able to prove what he was doing or for how long until after the holiday. But he was very nervous as he dressed in his girl jeans and threw on a sports bra to flatten his breasts over which he pulled on a tee-shirt and loose woolly jumper. His breasts were still slightly visible but he doubted his parents would want to see his bare chest and even if they did, he'd object and hope the embarrassment factor would prevent it.
The condemned woman made her way down to the dining room and to face her parents dreading what was going to happen but determined to resist any attempt to make her back into a boy, or worse a man.
"Come in, son, and sit down," his mother invited him to sit at the table with them. His father was already seated there. The turkey was in the oven and his mother thought she had an hour before she needed to do anything else towards dinner. Jeremy hadn't had breakfast but he wasn't feeling exactly hungry at this moment.
She passed him a glass of apple juice which he accepted, though his anxious manner and teary eyes showed he was not enjoying this family meeting. "You know why I asked to talk with you, don't you?" she asked him and he shrugged.
"Are you turning into a girl?" asked his father blushing as he asked the question. Jeremy shrugged again and tear ran down his face. "How about a simple yes or no?" his father probed. Once more the answer was a shrug and more silent tears.
His mother took up the role of tormentor, "I noticed that you had had your ears pierced and also that you'd had a haircut, but it looks like a girl's one from the shaping at the back. It is, isn't it?" Jeremy shrugged again with more silent tears.
"Are you growing breasts?" asked his father jumping into the silence not noticing the glare his wife gave him, subtlety or sensitivity seemed even more alien than usual. Jeremy didn't move but more tears ran down his face.
"Darling, we only want to help," tried his mother but still he simply sat there and cried silently aware that if they searched, he'd had his pill today, so they couldn't take his femaleness away, leastways not in the short term. He continued to resist the interrogation up to and including his father swearing and leaving Jeremy and his mother to continue, he went into the lounge to watch the telly.
Sensing a slight lightening in the atmosphere, his mother tried a different tack. "I take it that as no one has made you get your ears pierced or grow your hair like a girl, that you wanted to do it; I think you wanted to grow breasts too, didn't you?" This time as well as the tears she got a silent nod. "You want to be a girl, don't you?" Another silent nod. "I wish you'd come and told us. Are you taking something, hormones or something like that?" More tears and a silent shrug.
"Do you have a girl name?" She asked and he nodded. "Would you tell me what it is so I can address you properly?"
A very small voice said, "Jessica," accompanied by even more tears. His mother put a box of tissues on the table and a thank you was murmured again very quietly.
"Jessica, that's a lovely name for a lovely girl," she placed her hand on his and squeezed gently. On her question about choosing it, she learned that Carly, his friend, had helped him choose it. "So Carly knows all about you as a girl?" He shrugged and nodded.
Racking her brain for questions to engage him without frightening him, or perhaps that should be her, her mother asked, "D'you like wearing girl's clothes?" The reply was a nod. "Are you wearing some now or would you like to wear them?" Nods and shrugs and tears.
"Look, Jessica, why don't you go up to your room and wash your face and put on your favourite outfit and come back down when you're ready. I wouldn't bother with any makeup for the moment though, okay?" she smiled at her new daughter who saw the joke and smiled back. "Go on then, I'll see you when you come back down and I'll tell your dad what we decided and not to upset you, he's a bit out of his depth with this sort of thing, but I'll try and help him understand, okay?" Jessica nodded a reply and slowly went back upstairs tears still dripping down her face.
She heard raised voices then it seemed to go quiet as she assumed her mother was laying into her father before the banging of pots and pans showed that her mum was taking out her frustrations on the dinner and was in the kitchen.
All three of them were in uncharted waters, the two adults had seen bits on the television or in the press but had never thought they'd have to deal with it in the family. They'd both long since realised that Jeremy wasn't a macho sort of boy but some boys are like that, now they knew why and it was turning things upside down. Her mum was trying to understand why she hadn't spotted stuff before, perhaps she'd been too busy with her own life and Jessica had hidden things well. Once she had the dinner under control again, she decided that it would get more cooperation from her new daughter if she allowed her some freedom of expression over the Christmas holiday. As no one could do anything for a few days anyway and getting an appointment with a doctor was nigh on impossible at the best of times, with the Covid thing, it was likely to be New Year before they could ask for advice. Oh boy, why do these things always happen on bank holidays? Sod's law, she decided.
Jessica hadn't come back down, so risking an accusation of intrusion, she ran upstairs and after knocking on the bedroom door asked if Jessica needed any help, Jessica was sitting on the edge of the bed in a seeming trance and weeping. Her mum decided to see if she could encourage her daughter by at least trying to appear supportive not hostile, Jessica's dad could provide plenty of that if required probably because he was frightened of what the implications were if she'd got that far. She didn't think it was likely.
"Come on, girl, show me what clothes you have, please." She rubbed Jessica's shoulder and after pulling on her arm got her to rise from the bed and go to the wardrobe. Jessica pulled out her suitcase and carried it to the bed. There wasn't much in there, just bras and panties and the girly top she'd worn to the hairdresser.
"Right, put that one on and your bra and tomorrow, if you'd like, we'll see what they have in the sales and get you a couple of things like a skirt or dress and some shoes. Can't have my daughter wearing the same outfit all the time can we?" The question was obviously rhetorical but Jessica appreciated that at least she was trying. "When you've changed, come on down and help me do the dinner, okay? A bit of mother and daughter stuff," she hugged her daughter, kissed her gently on the cheek and went back to the kitchen.
It wasn't the best Christmas the family had ever had but they got through it and after taking Jessica's measurements, Jessica and her mum did do the sales and found some new outfits and shoes, plus a handbag and even a pair of boots. Her father was trying to get his head round it all and not succeeding terribly well, hiding in his office much of the time or sitting in front of the television, but he did give them a hundred pounds as a belated Christmas present to his daughter to spend at the sales, pleased in some ways to be free of the two of them for a few hours wondering if he should offer to change the colour of the new iPhone they'd got for Jeremy for his main Christmas present, in doing so he felt he was trying to help a little as well.
After breakfast, one morning between Christmas and New Year, Jessica and her mum had a serious discussion. "What do you want to do, sweetheart? asked her mum.
"I just want to be a normal girl and do girl things, well, as much as possible."
Her mum appreciated that Jessica didn't have some unrealistic expectations by the way she said this. "What about school?"
"I'm not sure what would happen there," said Jessica hesitantly. "Some of them seem to treat me like a girl now, but if I came out as one - I dunno..."
"That's assuming the school would let you."
"I don't think they have a choice, Mummy, they have an equality and diversity policy, I think." Jessica called it up on her new phone and they read it together and agreed the school would have to support her, officially, but they may be less than enthusiastic about it, especially if some parents complained.
Amanda Brown had done some research after learning about her son's gender discrepancy and discovered the biggest problems usually involved things like toilets and changing rooms. She also realised that if they went ahead and her child attended as Jessica, the school had an obligation to resolve problems and some had got around such things by allowing individual pupils to use a special or disabled toilet or even sometimes a staff loo. Disabled toilets could also act as a changing room, though showering after PE or sport would pose problems unless Jessica came home after games or made do with just washing instead.
It really depended upon the goodwill of the school and if Jesica wanted to go through with it, plus what the doctors or psychologists said and that was another bridge they'd have to cross. Amanda knew Barbara Taylor, the headmistress of Jessica's school and wondered if she might speak to her in private before they went any further. She had her number somewhere from a group they'd both belonged to trying to raise funds for local schools, so perhaps Barbara would listen more sympathetically or at least give her a chance to sound her out.
After the conversation with her daughter, Amanda called Barbara and asked if they could talk about a very personal but important matter. Visits to other people's houses were not encouraged during the epidemic but they agreed to meet and walk their dogs the next day at ten.
Carly came to see Jessica and was pleased that she was able to wear a skirt and even more so when Amanda gave Jessica a makeup kit and invited the girls to use it, so perhaps Carly could show Jessica how to use the basics. They both went off giggling and shrieking. John Brown had gone back to work so missed out on all the fun but the squealing and laughing that came from Jessica's bedroom showed that the two girls were indeed having fun.
The next morning Amanda and Winnie met up with Barbara and her black labrador, Queenie. Once they were free from eavesdroppers, Amanda got straight to the problem. Barbara listened and then said, "We had noticed Jeremy was becoming increasingly feminine in his manner but had decided just to monitor it and take care to minimise any risk of bullying. Thankfully, we don't have much of a problem there but only because we watch out for it and deal with it quickly. If and when Jessica comes to school, I'm not sure what will happen, naturally, we'll try to protect her and so will her friends, but it's not happened here before and we'd be on entirely new ground, but we will support her as best we can. We'll need some form of official notice, so she'll need to see either a specialist doctor or psychiatrist. You say she is developing a female body type, so is she taking hormones?"
"I don't know, I suspect she has managed to get some from somewhere, which tends to show she has a long term commitment to becoming female. I hate to think what the doctor will say, but he won't be pleased with her for taking them and me for not noticing, but life is just so fraught at the moment and neither John nor I know how long we'll have jobs."
Barbara sympathised with her but bemoaned her own problems of the government expecting her to find funding for all sorts of protective equipment from a budget they'd effectively been cutting for the past umpteen years. "Everyone in teaching is feeling as exhausted as the other frontline workers but we get no recognition at all. Junior and infant's teachers act in loco parentis teaching kids to how to use a knife and fork, potty train them and try to teach them other social skills as well as educate them. So many kids these days have parents who have zero parenting skills because their parents had none. Maybe there should be some sort of exam before anyone can have children?" She mused out loud. "Then we have to feed an increasing number of them every day because poverty amongst children is increasing almost exponentially and lots of them are going to suffer even more as their parents lose jobs and possibly even their homes. It keeps me awake at night."
"And there's me laying my problems on you too, Barbara. I am sorry, you have enough on your plate already."
"No, I'm glad you told me, let me know what Jessica is going to do and when and I'll do what I can to help, I won't brief the staff yet in case she chooses to stay as Jeremy, but from what you say, that's becoming increasingly untenable. However, I will flag up that we monitor her as vulnerable to bullying, I mean him for the moment."
"As soon as I know anything at all, I'll let you know as quickly as I can, but I can tell you, it looks like Jeremy's days are numbered as his body is so female looking. I may need to keep him off when the term starts, perhaps I'll say we're self-isolating."
"If you do we'll send him classwork to do over the internet so you'll need to send us an email address." The women parted and went to their respective homes.
"Where've you been, Mummy?" asked Jessica wearing more makeup than Amanda would have done to go clubbing.
"I took Winnie out, I needed some exercise and fresh air. Going for a sophisticated look are we?" she said nodding at her daughter. Jessica went red and then giggled before running back to her bedroom where more giggles emanated from Carly.
Later, after dinner and Jessica was in bed, Amanda brought John up to date including her talk with Barbara. He looked more resigned than upset though it was clear he wasn't happy. "You realise we've been out-manoeuvred by a thirteen-year-old girl, don't you?" he said quietly.
She nodded but what he said showed he'd considered what was happening and how he would help them all deal with it, that he'd recognised that Jeremy was actually a girl called Jessica showed her that he was on their side and come what may, they'd cope together as a family and as Jessica's parents. It was why she loved this man.
The end
Not sure whether I should continue this one, it's been on my computer for a couple of years. Let me know if you think it's worth finishing.
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Crazy Daisy.
By Angharad.
"You're a crazy daisy," my father's favourite expression to me, he said it so often I almost thought it was my name, then it became my nickname. My friends and my sister used to call me Daisy or Dais for short. While I was in junior school it wasn't a problem but in high school it was an embarrassment which was quickly pounced upon by the bullies and other predatory types, not helped by my long blond hair and my less than imposing stature. But I was fast and agile and my love of ballet, yes, ballet, made stand out from the crowd.
It was my sister's fault, we're heterozygous twins, which means we're not identical, but you wouldn't know it, because we're so similar. I am possibly a centimetre taller, she is about fifteen minutes older, so she is always pulling rank on me. Her name is Isabel shortened to Izzy or Belle depending on my mood, mine is David but we all know what they call me, which became worse when it was leaked that I did ballet. It was assumed that I was gay, which isn't so, least I don't think so, but I enjoy the balance and physical effort involved.
It all started because Izzy wanted to do ballet having seen Margot Fonteyn or Darcey Bussell on documentary about dance. She was blown away by the elegance and poise of the ballerinas and when I saw the athleticism of the male dancers, leaping about the place as if they were on springs I was impressed. Izzy would go without me and she kept on at Mum until I was conned into going as well to keep her company. Mind you it took the promise of a new bicycle on our birthday to get enrolled in Madame Le Croix's Ballet School. We were six years old at the time and I think Mum must have been distracted at the time because she signed us in as Belle and Daisy.
I didn't know how to put it right, I was often called Daisy at home and by my close friends that I assumed it was a boy's name, I was wrong. So for two years I learned the same moves, steps and exercises as Belle. We even wore the same things with white or pink leotards and even tutus. It was the latter which eventually gave me away, class overran one day and my mother wanted to know why I had my hair tied back and was wearing a tutu.
"Why is David wearing a tutu?"
"David? We thought her name was Daisy?"
"No, it's definitely David."
"Well, our registration forms say Izzy and Daisy and you completed them." She blushed at her mistake. "Anyway she's signed up for the rest of the course, so you might as well let her stay."
They called me over and I skipped over to them like a little girl, "Daisy are you happy doing ballet?"
"Yes," I replied, "I like doing it the same as Izzy."
"Even though you're dancing a girl's part?" asked my mother.
"She doesn't look big enough to do the boy stuff."
"He is rather slight for a boy," admitted my mother.
I blushed but admitted that I liked it. We were only doing the basics, learning steps and poses, it hadn't occurred to me that boys did different things, though I was wondering when we'd do the flying leaps and things, I assumed we had to build up to them and I was enjoying it all anyway.
It was agreed that I would continue as I was for the moment unless either my fellow ballerinas objected or I did. In which case, they'd split us up and Izzy didn't want that, nor did I really.
So it continued and as none of the other girls objected I carried on my training as a ballerina and learning to act like a girl to enable me to continue going to ballet class. Izzy was abetting me as she wanted me to accompany her although it became clear that I was getting more out of it and it was me who ended up with a solo spot at their next show, Izzy just danced as a part of the chorus.
Mum wasn't sure of dancing en pointe but I managed to do it without damaging myself and became one of only three girls in the class who could. As the class went on, most of the others thought I was called Daisy so that was the name I adopted. I stayed smaller than most of the boys of my age in school but about the same as Izzy although she caught me up height-wise and even grew taller.
I managed to keep flexible and could do the splits and also raise my leg up to my shoulder while standing on the other leg. It was suggested it was because of all the flexibility training we did on a regular basis. Because other boys meant either bullies or thieves, I tended to limit much of my social interaction to other girls, I suppose I thought of myself as one especially when dancing, and I probably resembled them more than I did most of the boys in school, not helped by my gender ambiguous clothing. Izzy and I swapped clothes on a regular basis, particularly things like leggings, tops and shorts in nicer weather. I looked as much like a girl as she did and she seemed to enjoys us looking so similar.
I had no need of football or other rough games as I got more exercise doing my ballet training than the would-be jocks anyway and I was more lithe and flexible than that collection of meat-heads. As junior progressed beyond the earlier stages and on towards middle school, our headmistress Mrs Dorian became worried for my future. I was oblivious looking like my sister and dressing the same and my parents also seemed unaware of how things would change in a year or two and seeing as I seemed happy as long as I had my sister and my ballet, I didn't foresee the imminent changes coming.
My father had been concerned at first but he was an internationally recognised orchestra conductor, so he wasn't there much of the time, flitting around the world with Tchaikovsky or Mozart. The onus for our upbringing fell upon my mother, who was, I would eventually understand was described as a flake, a really lovely person, but largely ineffective as a parent. She supported us both as ballerinas despite my being a boy and because we weren't causing a fuss, she immersed herself in her painting - she was an artist with a growing reputation for watercolour paintings, which included portraits, landscapes and some seascapes. We lived near the sea in a big house that overlooked the channel, the large conservatory was her studio and she spent more time in there than in the house.
We had a housekeeper, Doris Pettigrew, who was also an unofficial nanny, who I suppose raised us, and treated us as two girls. She was a ballet enthusiast herself and encouraged us in our training, and took us and collected us from classes three times a week. She called me Daisy and my sister Izzy, and I was very fond of her and she us. I mean, I loved my mother too, so did Izz but we looked to 'Auntie' Doris to sort out anything we needed. Did I say she lived with us? Well she did, so she was always there for us.
I think this is as far as I can go with this as I don't have a dance background and without some ballet jargon, it's all going to look rather amateur. Thank you to all who asked me to continue, which I have done, I hope you enjoy.
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Crazy Daisy (2).
By Angharad.
I told you about our love of ballet, that is Izzy and me and that they all thought I was a girl and surprisingly, I seemed better at it than my twin sister, who was happy to dance in the chorus while I got chosen for more solo roles. Of course, my parents allowed me to carry on as a ballerina and rather androgynous boy, which swapping clothes with my sister sort of encouraged. The consequence of it all was that the girls welcomed me as one of their own and the boys seemed to forget my real name was David not Daisy.
At Christmas the ballet school wanted to put on a show and wrote to Mum asking if we could take part, that is both of us, it included bits from the Nutcracker, the Christmas ballet. Of course she said yes, encouraged by Auntie Doris and she even said she would come and watch us. Because she hadn't exactly kept up with the ballet class, being more fond of her painting, than parenting and my dad was off in Europe somewhere bashing Beethoven or something similar, so Auntie Doris was the go to person, and as my mum had said yes and to get her a ticket, Doris told the ballet school that we were fine to proceed. Obviously we couldn't perform the whole ballet, it takes a full company to do that but we could perform bits of it. We were told that plans would be revealed at our next class, but we got Mum's ticket or a promise of one, so all the boxes were effectively ticked and on the way home we tried to work out which dances they would do, like the Dance of the flowers, or the Chinese dance. We both decided that whatever we did we'd enjoy it.
Our next lesson was next week, it being the weekend and nearly all our conversations were about what parts would be available, we agreed that most of the solo spots would go to the older girls who were more experienced, and thus better dancers, but the chorus was fine and we might get some understudy parts as well, that was how I'd danced solo in the first place, being an understudy for a bit of Copelia we did and Susan Jameson wasn't able to take part, so I covered for her and apparently was told quietly that I was better on the night. Izzy had no aspirations, she enjoyed the chorus but I was wondering if a solo cover could happen again. Sue wasn't in the school anymore, so it wouldn't be her.
At school, because I was increasingly seen as a girl, it wasn't such a hot topic and the boys usually left me alone. I remember one of the few incidents that arose because of my dancing. A boy who probably had family issues picked on me as I was demonstrating a dance move to one of the girls who didn't seem to be able to learn it I had and was trying to show her where she was going wrong and Peter Smith told me I looked like a poofter. His opinion wasn't of any import to me and I ignored him. He began pushing me and the momentum from his shove, I turned into a dance movement, twirling away with lots of flourishes of my hands and arms. Of course, he was looking for someone to start a fight with, I was available and very girly, so was a suitable target for him to beat and restore his self-confidence as a boy. Except it didn't quite work out that way. It's almost a universal law, that if you want to beat someone in a fight you have to either bash them or browbeat them into submission. I hadn't allowed the latter and so far he hadn't hit me, but it wasn't through lack of trying. His moves were rather obvious and as he swung at me I just leant out of the way, the ballet had made me more agile., and he just kept punching the air, he was also getting very exasperated and noisy. It attracted a teacher who saw him attempting to make contact with my face or body with his swinging fists and who interrupted the event, laughing at his pathetic attempts to hit a girl.
He was marched off to the headmistress and I was congratulated on my ability to bend my body out of his way and stay balanced. My friend got the idea of the dance move I had been trying to show her and I was still in one piece. At the end, I was showing off a bit, when I managed to balance on one leg and move the other up to the side of my face. One of the boys who'd been watching Peter Smith's antics in trying to hit me, remarked that I could have stood still and kicked him in the face and he'd have lost big time. I had to admit to Izzy that the thought of hitting or kicking him hadn't entered my mind. Girls don't fight and I considered I was girl, if not officially, then unofficially.
The parts were given to us and to my delight I was understudy to Zoe Feltz who was dancing bits of Clara, it doesn't come much better than that. I wasn't even ten years old and I was dancing understudy for the lead female part. It meant that I had to work extra hard to make sure I could do it all and apart from difficulty it required extra stamina because she was dancing nonstop for over five minutes which takes lots of energy and strength, she was dancing in a dress so I had to have one as well, in a smaller size.
I did wonder if there was something wrong with me because I wasn't much taller than Izzy and boys are usually bigger than girls, except I know I preferred to be a girl, because I'd be too small for a male ballet dancer and probably not strong enough to lift a ballerina unless she was about three years old and only weighed a couple of kilos, as they don't exist I'll stick with performing as a ballerina with which I am having so much fun and enjoyment.
Peter Smith was sent to apologise to me and I told him it was all right that he couldn't hit the skin off a rice pudding, let alone a girl. I could see that he was still ready to have a go at me so I stood on one leg and raised the other up near my shoulder and he saw the implications if he started anything again, he ran off muttering some sort of insult as he went. He ran smack into Izzy, yelled and ran off from her, she was completely baffled by his action until she spoke to me and I said he had tried to attack me earlier and failed. I did my pose again on one leg and she laughed.
We finished school about ten days before Christmas but then it was practice every day, which was made more difficult by a small fall of snow which made everything slippery underfoot. Daddy's plane from wherever was delayed by two days. Mummy was very busy trying to finish a painting that someone commissioned for a Christmas present so we hardly saw her, Auntie Doris was busy trying to prepare us for Christmas and we were just looking forward to the show. Except my understudy role, I also had to learn the chorus parts I was involved in, the Chinese dance and the dance of the flowers, both of which were quite demanding and needed everyone to know the choreography, some were better than others.
We only did a light practice at the barre the day before and Madame came to see me as we finished, just be ready for tomorrow, it looks like Zoe has Covid, she'll do her best to come but be prepared as her understudy to go on instead. I saw the dress hanging up and could almost feel it on my body. Tomorrow now became much more serious. Daddy was due into this country tomorrow morning, he'd seen us both dance in the chorus but I so wanted he and Mum to see me do a solo part and I just hoped he'd make it back home.
The next day it was all go. I told no one that I might be soloing again in case Zoe recovered but when we got there for the performance, Madame told me she wasn't coming so I was on instead. Being young, it doesn't occur to you that failure is an option. I had practiced the part so many times, I felt I could do it in my sleep, my one worry was that I'd drop the nutcracker toy and break it. I also felt I needed to help in my two chorus dances, but Madame told me to see how I felt after my Clara's dance and I thought apart from sweaty and zinging, I'd be fine.
I pulled on the dress and minutes later I was on, and Mummy and Daddy were in the audience, my wishes had been granted and I put extra effort into everything. Seeing as things were still frozen up we had a good audience and I was told the local paper would be covering it. So I could be written about in the press. I didn't think about my history one bit, I just wanted to see my name in print, it would probably be the first and last time.
I gave my 'Clara' everything and it went perfectly. It was the starring role for the whole show and I had to quickly change a couple of times to help my chorus group with their dances, both of which featured Izzy, so for my parents to see us both was such a treat for both of us. Then I had to slip the Clara dress back on to take my curtain calls. I was given a bouquet and did a very deep curtsey in receiving them, my dad had taken several photos and my mum told me she would choose one and paint a picture of both of us, we were both delighted at this and smiled huge beaming grins at everyone.
As we went back to the changing rooms, I had some wet wipes and a towel in my bag, Madame told us to both hurry because she had someone she wanted us and our parents to meet. I thought she meant the newspaper man, but she didn't. She came to hurry me up as I was putting my warm skirt and top on with my knee length boots and even helped me with my coat, then she hustled me out to the auditorium where there were still quite a few people lingering or talking in small groups.
I dashed out and hugged my parents who congratulated me on my dancing and Daddy patted his camera and said he thought he had some good photos of us both. Izzy was hanging on his arm and he was ruffling her hair. Just then Madame appeared with a lovely looking lady who was wearing a fur coat. "May I introduce Olga Smirnova who runs the juvenile section of the Royal Ballet School," she shook hands with my parents. She recognised my dad who is quite famous as a conductor and they spoke for a few minutes. Suddenly she put an arm around me, told my parents she was most impressed by my dancing and then dropped the bombshell that she'd like me to accept a scholarship to the school to train as a ballerina. I nearly fainted, my dream come true and I jumped up and down pulling at my parent's sleeves for them to say it was okay. They both gave plenty of smiles and said they would seriously consider it. A little later we went back to the car with me fretting that they wouldn't allow me to go to the school and I was quite sullen as I sat in the car seat glowering at my parents.
My dad saw my expression and addressed me, with a kind but serious look on his face. "Look, Daisy, be satisfied that they were all impressed with your dancing, as we all were and we shall talk to Olga after Christmas."
"You're not going to let me go are you?" I pouted back.
"Remember there is just the little problem that you are a boy despite us letting you live as a girl. I don't think we can do anything until we speak to the doctor and see what our options are, but I hate to see you get your hopes up and then for them to be dashed because they may not want to take you once they find out, which would be very sad but quite possible. Let's just have a family Christmas, enjoy ourselves and I'll speak to Dr Johnson once it's all over, Okay?"
I pouted again but when he smiled at me I smiled back, it was lovely to have him home for the holiday and whatever happened, Mummy was going to paint us dancing. I smiled again at that. He turned around and started the car and we went home.
I had several messages to continue this story so here is another episode, I hope you like it.
Crazy Daisy (3).
By Angharad.
Christmas was lovely and we both got lots of things, including makeup and dresses. My parents had almost forgotten I was a boy, so I thought and was quite happy with that. A few days after Christmas My dad dragged me off with him which was unusual, Izzy and I always went everywhere together but this day we separated. I asked my father what was happening and he said I'd find out in a little while. we drove to the doctor's surgery and he made me sit close to him and keep still. I told him I wasn't ill so why were we here? "You should be bigger than you are, Izzy is taller than you." I told him I knew but I was the better dancer. "Okay, okay we all know that and you demonstrated that the other night. No one would argue that for your age you are a very good ballerina, but remember, you are a boy and except when Matthew Bourne does something different, there isn't much call for male ballerinas."
I felt very misunderstood and stayed silent thereafter until called by the doctor. We didn't have long to wait, and Dr Johnson was a nice, older man. He knew I was dressing as a girl and did ballet. "I saw you do the Nutcracker stuff at your ballet school and very good it was at short notice." I smiled at that, "they still calling you Daisy?"
"Yes doctor, I'm quite enjoying myself."
"That's good," he replied, "Now if only the rest of my patients were as obliging, I'd only have work half as hard."
"Why is she here, Michael?" he turned his attention to my dad.
"Look, Daisy isn't a properly developing boy, she's smaller than Izzy. She seems fit enough, possibly underweight but we know she watches her intake so she doesn't put on weight. I don't think there's much doubt that she is transgendered, she's lived as a girl for about four years and hardly anyone notices, the thing is she's been offered a place at the Royal Ballet School but they don't know the state of play, if you see what I mean."
"That's a bit of a complication, you knew that one day you'd have to grasp this straw, and it looks as if that day has come."
"I know she'd love to go to the school, except she'd have to leave Izzy, it would be the first time in her life. That's going to be traumatic enough when they realise they're going to be separated if it happens."
"I see, what do you want me to do?" asked the doctor.
"I want to find out if they accept transgender pupils."
"And..."
"I need to get a referral to some sort of expert and get her on some sort of programme. Could you help, we'll have to go privately because time is quite a factor."
"Ahh, right, I only know one paediatric psychiatrist with anything like the skill you want. I call her later and get you an appointment asap."
"Brilliant, I knew you'd help, Steve."
"I'm rather fond of the girls, although I don't see them very often, last time was Izzy had hurt her ankle, but they seem extremely fit."
We left the doctor's and called home to collect Izzy and Daddy took us for a visit to the park to feed the ducks, who discovering we had proper duck food not horrible bread, swarmed all over us. I think Daddy even took a photo of a duck standing on Izzy's head. We had a great time. Later, after lunch when Doris did us a lovely pie with salad, Izzy asked me where I'd gone. I told her, the significance of the event was a bit beyond my ballet saturated mind.
That night Daddy had a call from the doctor and he wrote something in his diary ,and thanked the doctor for his help. I heard the phone ring but didn't understand what was going on. Then two days later I was rushed in the shower by Doris and dressed in my warm leggings, knee boots and one of my new tops, a warm acrylic one. After I'd eaten breakfast, a woolly had was shoved on my head, and my down coat and gloves were barely on, and Daddy was dragging me off somewhere else. I asked him where we were going but he just evaded my questions only telling me I'd see in a short time.
We met a nice lady doctor, called Dr Pauline McWhirter, she was quite old but not as old as Daddy, who's ancient, at least forty. Alas, she wanted some of my blood, our doctor had taken some a few days ago but she said she wanted to check something.
"Tell me Daisy, why do you want to be a boy?" golly, didn't that confuse me.
"I don't, I want to be a girl forever, I want to be a ballet dancer, a ballerina."
"I think you have got the wrong end of the stick, Dr McWhirter, Daisy is actually a biological male but she has lived as female with her twin sister for the last four or so years. I think she's transgender, potty about ballet and wants to live as a girl. She has a chance to go to the Royal Ballet School though that may yet be in vain as her gender thing may prevent that. We'd like you to confirm the diagnosis and act as our medical expert."
The doctor blushed and within a few minutes she understood what was what. "These blood results are crazy, hence my wanting another set to confirm them. This child has virtually no testosterone in her, but about the same amount as girl of the same age. I'd like to send you to a colleague for further blood tests and DNA, until we have that data, I can't make a diagnosis, but I'd say there is good chance of her being intersexed, which opens a whole new ballgame. If that is the case, I think the school would have to accept her. She has a penis, I take it?"
"Yes, but it's quite insignificant." She asked to see it and told me I was a good girl and apologised for messing my clothing around.
"How come you or your wife hadn't noticed, I presume this has been going on for some time?"
"I'm hardly ever there and my wife is an artist with a growing reputation, so child care usually falls on our nanny/housekeeper. We're too busy for kids really but we do love them and I like to spend time with them when we can."
"Mum's gonna paint me dancing with Izzy."
"That should be nice, you'll have to take photo and bring it to me to see," said the doctor.
"When do you want me to see your colleague?" Daddy asked, Dr McWhirter spoke into her phone and "He can see you in about fifteen minutes, he's just in the next block." She handed him a paper with the new doctor's name and address and we were off again.
Daddy told me they'd probably want some more blood to do more tests and he was very proud of me being such a brave girl. I smiled and puffed out my chest, I liked it when Daddy was pleased with me.
The new doctor was a man, a cronolist or something. He took some more blood and also rubbed a stick think around my mouth and popped it in a plastic tube and shut the lid. "Not on a period is she?"
"She a boy," said my father sounding just a little peeved.
"Oh," he looked at the blood results that Pauline had sent over to him, "so she is, it's just that her iron levels are a little bit low like a girl on her menses." He studied the results, she's got virtually no testosterone in her. You sure she's a boy?"
He had to have a look at me down below as well and looked up shaking his head spoke to my dad, "I don't think that's grown for quite a while, which it wouldn't if there was no testosterone. I can't find any testes, no surprise there. When I get the blood results back I'll know better, but I think you're looking at the diagnosis of intersex."
"What's the prognosis?" my father asked.
"We'll know more when the results come back including the DNA sample but she's either a girl with a sealed vaginal opening and hypertrophied clitoris, or a boy that nothing is happening for which could be a number of things. We may want to do a scan of her abdomen to see if that enlightens us but either way we can boost her natural hormones one way or the other."
"I think she only sees it one way, she's been living as a girl for four or so years, I suspect she wants to live the rest of her life as female."
The doctor nodded, "I think that's for Dr McWhirter to help you decide but I'd still like to do a scan if there are any testes there, they can go nasty if they don't drop." Daddy thank him and asked him to organise the scan and let us know, he nodded again and we left.
When we got home I tried to explain to Izzy what had happened but I think I just confused her. While we talked Mummy, Daddy and Auntie Doris locked themselves in the lounge. Izzy and I had some orange juice and chocolate to keep us going while we waited for the grown-ups to finish, after all we do what they wanted anyway. I hoped that I'd still get the place at the ballet school but it dawned on me they didn't invite Izzy too, that meant we'd be split up - did I want that, no I didn't, but I wasn't sure and in case they didn't accept me I didn't say anything to her.
They called me in to the lounge, "Look, we haven't asked you," my father asked. "Do you want to stay as a girl or would you rather be a boy?"
"No, I'm a girl and I want to stay as one and keep doing my ballet."
"We have to go back to the hospital for them to do a scan of your tummy tomorrow."
"Alright," I said, "will that hurt?"
"No, depending upon which scan they mean it'll just mean smearing some jelly stuff on your tummy so they can see what's inside."
"I like jelly, can I have strawberry?" I said to them and Mummy groaned.
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