They Think I am a Woman! - Part 12

OTHER PARTS | ALL STORY LIST

I spent a couple of boring days in bed reading girly mags to help with my feminine initiation, acclimation,' or something, according to Sheila.

When I got bored reading about Spotty Cynthia from Streatham and her boyfriends and other similar letters on the problem pages, I turned on the TV.

Daytime TV seemed to comprise lots of cooking shows, dressing up older women to look like fifteen-year-olds shows, more cooking shows, assorted shouting matches on various chat shows, and more bloody cooking shows.

Luckily, after two days of near-terminal boredom broken by dreams about drizzles of olive oil and garnishes of rocket, I was able to get up and start walking—well, limping around the flat.

Sheila had gone to work, and I was all on my lonesome when there was a knock on the door.

I slipped my dressing gown on over my rather revealing baby doll—I know, not practical, but very sensual—and opened the door.

‘Hello,’ he said, looking me up and down.

The first thought that came into my head was, ‘Cor, what a hunk.’

He was about six feet tall, with honey blond hair, deep blue eyes, a lovely small upturned nose, a nice smile, and some toothpaste-ad-type teeth. They sort of sparkled as he smiled. He had a cute little dimple in the middle of his chin.

He looked about 20, give or take a year. Ummm, not that I noticed any of that, of course, as I still have manly (if smallish) equipment, and I was into girls.

‘Um. Hello.’ I squeaked, I mean, said.

‘Sorry to trouble you, I’m new here. I’ve taken over the flat downstairs from Tony Summers, and I have some post for him. Do you know where he's moved to?’

As usual, my brain let me down, and I heard myself saying, ‘He’s moved to Australia. I’m his sister, Toni.’

‘You’re Tony?’

He looked puzzled, and his clean, strong forehead crinkled slightly in a small frown.

‘Toni with an i.’

‘Must be confusing?’

‘Yes, erm, our parents had a strange sense of humor; it’s actually short for Antonia.’

‘Oh, I see. Nice, I like it.’

He looked down at the letters in his hand and shuffled them absently.

‘Oh, it looks like you have a few too.’

He handed the letters in my general direction while gazing up and down and then noticed that I was standing sort of awkwardly.

‘Are you OK? There's a bandage on your leg.’

‘Oh yes, I just banged my leg up a bit, and it’s still a bit stiff.’

He gazed at my legs a little more closely, making me feel a teensy bit uncomfortable as I hadn’t shaved them in a few days. I was also very aware of my flimsy covering and the fact that I could swear that he had x-ray eyes. Hell, I could feel it. I’m not really paranoid, am I?

‘Um, anyway, thanks for the letters. I’ll make sure Tony gets his. Er, thanks again, bye.’

I shut the door in a hurry, not wanting him to see how upset I was.

I heard him walk down the carpetless corridor outside and breathed a sigh of relief.

I limped back to bed, took my dressing gown off, and slipped under the covers.

As my head hit the pillows, a faint smile played on my lips as I thought about him. I didn’t even know his name!

I shook myself out of my daydream as I realized that I must still be feeling the aftereffects of the accident. I have no interest in men, full stop. I like, no love, girls, not boys. I might be in a nightie and look vaguely girlish, but my preferences were purely hetero. It must be a post-traumatic stress thingy.

“Mind you,” I thought, talking to my inner self, “if I like being a girl and dress as a girl, does this make me a lesbian or bi, or what?”

My head was spinning with confusion, and I drifted off to sleep.

‘Wake up, Toni, want some tea?’

My eyes snapped open, and there was Sheila, still in her uniform, prodding my arm.

‘Ouch, that hurts. Where's your bedside manner?’

‘Sod that. One of the first things we learned at nursing school was how to irritate, pester, and bully patients. Anyway, you are due to go to work tomorrow, and it’s about time that you were more mobile. Come on, get your finger out.’

‘But it hurts!’ I whined bravely.

‘Don’t be a baby.’

‘Not.’

‘Am.’

As usual, I lost the argument and got up gingerly and slumped a little sulkily into the armchair. I only winced occasionally, for effect, but it was like water off a duck's back. Sheila was a hard girl.

‘Now that you’ve finished the pantomime performance, let’s look at that leg.

She knelt down in front of me and gently unwound the bandage.

I only yelped a couple of times as she finally removed the covering. Not bad, considering.

‘Hmm.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Does this hurt?’

‘Ouch!’

‘And this?’

‘Ouch, ouch.’

‘Good, it looks OK. You don’t need the bandage back on; you might get away with stockings tomorrow when you go to work.’

‘Do I have to go?’

‘You promised your uncle when he rang yesterday.’

‘I was feverish and didn’t know what I was saying.’

‘Rubbish, you can’t back out now. So, has the postman come?’

I followed her gaze, looked down on the bed, and noticed the letters.

‘Oh, I meant to tell you before you started torturing me that a man has taken over my old room downstairs.’

‘I know, Giles is OK.’

‘You knew?’

‘Of course. I know all the potential nookie for miles around.’

‘Do you fancy him?’ I said, for some reason, sounding upset at that.

‘Nice bum, teeth, and all that; what's not to like? But a bit young for me and probably wet behind the ears, I prefer men with experience; he still looks like a learner.’

‘Oh.’

‘Mind you, ideal for you. Training wheels and all.’

I nearly choked on the tea that she had just handed me.

‘Me? Don’t be silly, I’m into girls.’

‘Are you sure? Look at that wet dream you had in the hospital.’

‘What wet dream?’

‘You told me about the ball, the gown, and the prince thing. Also, I helped get you out of bed to go home. There were signs.’

‘Signs?’ I said quietly.

‘I have been a nurse for years now. You would be surprised what we find on the bedcovers.’

I felt myself go red all over as I ever so cleverly changed the subject.

‘Erm, I suppose I had better read my letters now.’

Sheila smirked as she took my cup and went into the kitchen.

Most of the letters were trying to sell me something, so I chucked them.

One letter in a cream envelope and hand-stamped caught my eye.

I slit the envelope open and took out the single sheet.

It was from a doctor’s surgery:

Dear Ms. Summers,

Your new employers have a pension and life insurance scheme with Total Life and Pensions Group.

A stipulation of being in the scheme is that members have to have a medical at the earliest opportunity.

Your HR manager has contacted us and informed us that you are due to start on the 21st of this month. We have therefore arranged the examination for that morning at 9.00am sharp with Dr. Squires, prior to your commencing work.

If this is inconvenient, please let us know in good time.

Yours, etc.

I looked at the letter. To say my gast was flabbergasted would be an understatement.

How the hell was I going to get out of this!

What’s up?’

‘Oh God, oh God, oh God!’

‘O hell, don’t go all religious on me. Tell me what’s wrong?’

I shakily handed the letter over to Sheila. I wasn’t panicking, I’m sure I wasn’t, not really. I mean, panicking… No, no, I was OK.

‘Ah, this could be interesting.’

‘Interesting, is that all you can say? I turn up there, dressed all girly-like, strip my clothes off, the doctor sees my meat and two veg, and all you can say is that it’s interesting.’

‘Don’t panic.’

I…am…not…panicking.’

‘Look, honey,’ said Sheila, sitting on the bed in her best Florence Nightingale mode, ‘you are getting this all out of proportion. Just go in, sit down, and explain that you are in transition and that you are physically male but prefer the female gender role.’

‘You’ve been reading stuff on the internet again, haven’t you?’

‘Don’t say it like I have been looking at porn. When your little problem arose, I thought that it would be a good idea to have a look at the stuff about it on the net. I know all about gender dysphoria and everything now. Well, enough anyway.

‘What is that? Have I got it, and will it hurt?’

‘Don’t go all hypochondriac on me. It’s just a term used for people with your proclivities.’

‘Pro what? Oh, forget it; you’re trying to confuse me with those big words again. Look, it’s all very well you saying that it will be all sweetness and light when I go to see the doctor, but it’s me who has to go through this, not you.’

‘I’m sure that it will be OK. You are just letting your imagination run away with you.’

I was not convinced, but I couldn’t do anything about it.

The next morning I woke up with vague wisps of a dream: doctors holding BIG syringes, straightjackets, and leering Nurse Ratched types… With a shake, I cleared my head slightly. Coming to the realization that two things were happening today.

First I did have to see a doctor and… I didn’t want to think of the consequences of that; then I was going to work in an office…as a girl!

You can imagine, gentle and patient reader, I was just a trifle reluctant to get out of bed.

Eventually I got up. Sheila was at work, so I didn’t have her moral support.

I stumbled to the bathroom, looked at the mirror, and saw my sleep-ravaged face staring back at me. With a small grimace and ignoring the building tension, I sat down for my early morning wee.

After sighing umpteen times, a small tinkle developed. I wiped myself down there, stood up, took my nightie off, and had a shower.

Very carefully shaved my legs under the shower and washed my hair, not forgetting to use the conditioner, of course.

As I dried myself off, I wondered what I should wear. I wanted to look like a girl going to the office. I had a few nice things that I could wear now. Sheila had dragged me around the shopping center after the shock of opening the letter.

My mind went back to that previous afternoon, and I shuddered.

She had made me buy several skirts and blouses, some dresses, bras, and knickers.

I got fed up with changing rooms. I was embarrassed at seeing all that naked flesh (other than mine) and not knowing where to point my eyes while I tried on more and more clothes.

It was the one thing that I still found boring: buying clothes. Perhaps it’s a girl thing that I haven't quite mastered yet. Or maybe you're born to it.

After what seemed like hours, we had gone up to the coffee shop, and after getting our drinks and some nice big knickerbocker glories, we took the drinks and ice creams, looking really tasty in the tall glasses, over to a table, and we sat and watched the world go by.

It was nice to get off my aching feet; heels must have been designed by men; women wouldn’t be that stupid!

We got hit on by a couple of Neanderthals as we sat and sipped our cappuccinos and scooped the ice cream out of the glasses with long spoons.

‘Hi girls,’ said one blockhead, ‘It’s your lucky day.’

‘And why would that be?’ said Sheila, disdain dripping from her voice.

‘We are here to cheer your little lives up,’ said Neanderthal 2.

‘I can see you boys are a bit on the shy and retiring side, and I don’t want to hurt your feelings or anything, but please, piss off.’

I just sat there, eyes wide in admiration, listening to a real pro at work.

‘Come on, love, you know that we're the best thing you're going to see in this dismal dump today. What say we go grab a flick or something, eh’ said n1.

‘I like the sound of that, especially the “something,”’ said N2.

‘What part of piss off don’t you understand? Anyway, girls like us are not in any way, shape, or form interested in men—no, sorry, little boys like you. Now run off to your mummy before I call security.’

I was getting lower and lower in my seat, and my head was now in line with the table. Sheila was a bit anti-men at the moment; what with the problems she had recently experienced with her ex, she could be a bit unpredictable, and I just wanted to stay out of the firing line. I think that I would prefer to play ‘ring around a rosy’ with gelignite than be anywhere near Sheila when she was in a strop.

But they just did not get it. The warning signs were there. Sheila was smiling and looking reasonable. She was tapping her fingers gently on the table; all very bad signals. Thick sods!

It had gone strangely quiet. The only people unaware that there was a problem were the two boys. Most of the people at the other tables had gone quiet and were staring at us in unashamed nosiness.

‘Come on, girls, you know it makes sense. Let's face it, we're your best chance today of having a good time. What are you, frigid or something?’

There was a pregnant pause, and then it happened.

Sheila must have had some mystical training from a martial arts expert from Tibet or somewhere windswept and foreign. It happened so quickly.

Sheila picked up our knickerbocker glories, and in a blink-and-it's-over motion, chucked the contents with unerring accuracy over the two wasters.

One second the boys were standing there, wearing reasonably clean tee shirts and jeans, with self-satisfied smirks on their faces, and the next, they were covered in strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate ice cream.

They were somewhat stunned and didn’t react for a few seconds. The mixture of melting ice cream on their hair and faces now cascading gently down onto their T-shirts made me giggle nervously, probably mild hysteria on my part.

‘YOU BITCH!’

‘YOU COW.’

They started to grab at Sheila, who was wielding her handbag like an offensive weapon when there was a cough…

‘Excuse me, ladies, but is something wrong?’

I looked up from my semi-prone, almost under-the-table position and saw two rather hefty security guards looming over us. They must breed them big in this shopping center, as they both looked over six feet six inches tall.

The two boys looked distinctly uncomfortable as they dripped ice cream onto the nice shiny floor.

Sheila was the first to speak.

‘These, erm… gentlemen were bothering us and making rather rude remarks. I felt threatened as I thought that they might attack us, so I threw the ice cream at them. Isn’t that right, Toni?’

‘Eek.’

One of the security guards took my coherent answer as confirmation, and in seconds the lads were being dragged away, shouting and cursing their innocence, for some not-so-gentle interrogation down in the dungeons or somewhere.

Sheila looked at me.

‘Get up off the floor, Toni; it’s not ladylike. Shall I order another knickerbocker glory?’

I got myself up a little awkwardly, dusted myself down, and sat opposite her again. I didn’t know girls could get that aggressive. She scared me sometimes. There was a sort of unearthly thing about her that was decidedly not of this world.

‘Um, yes please.’ I squeaked.

She got up and ambled over to the counter. People got out of the way like that film, you know, the one about Charlton Heston with a long beard, parting the sea or something.

Anyway, a lady cleaner came over, chuckling to herself as she cleaned the mess off the floor.

‘Game one, that.’ She said, with a nod, Sheila's way. ‘Those boys are bad ones. They're always here, mucking about, frightening the girls. They got banned last year for pinching stuff. They never learn. Stupid gits.’

The woman finished doing her stuff and ambled off again, just as Sheila came back with the ice creams.

‘There we are; get your face into this.’

We ate in silence. The food area gradually went back to normal.

‘Um, Sheila.’

‘Yes, hon?’

‘Didn’t you worry about your continuing health when those boys started and you finished the argument like that?’

She laughed.

‘No, they were pussycats compared to some I have to deal with in A&E on a Saturday night.’

‘Oh.’

My mind snapped back to the present. My daydreaming meant that I had to get a rush on.

I grabbed a silky cream blouse and black skirt, matching jacket, some knickers, a bra, tights, and black low-heeled shoes and then put them all on the bed.

In a few moments, I was over at the dressing table applying my makeup. This was getting easier and easier to do, and in less than ten minutes I had painted my face on.

Another ten minutes saw me dressed, hair brushed, and out of the door. I had avoided breakfast, as I thought that I probably wouldn’t be able to keep it down.

I caught the bus at the end of the road. I found a seat at the back that was free, and I looked again at the letter from the doctors.

I knew where I was going, as the surgery was just off the high street, not far from the office where I was going to work.

My heart did flip-flops, thinking of my ordeal ahead. If I were a drinker, now would be the time for a stiff one.

All too soon, the bus stopped at the high street. I got off and walked slowly towards the doctors’ surgery. I looked at my watch. Five minutes to my appointment.

I soon found myself outside the surgery, took a deep breath, girded my loins, whatever the hell that meant, and walked in.

The place was empty. I was expecting tons of sick people slumped on seats, coughing and spluttering and possibly twitching a little as well.

Instead, I was in a tasteful waiting room, with deep, comfy chairs dotted here and there, a coffee table with glossy magazines in the center, and a small table in the corner with a small, old-fashioned brass bell on it.

I walked over to the table, the plush deep red carpet deadening the sound of my shoes as I went.

There was a note on the table in front of the bell. It said, ‘Please ring for assistance.’

I very tentatively rang the bell; the small tinkle sounded deafening to me in the quiet room, and I jumped slightly at the noise.

A door creaked open in the corner, and a woman in a white coat came into the room.

‘Hello, are you Ms. Summers?’

‘Um, yes.’

‘Gosh, you are punctual. Right, come this way, please.’

I followed her out into a corridor and into another room. It was clearly some sort of changing room.

‘Right, erm, Toni, is it? Yes, well, could you please take all your clothes off and put one of the gowns on from over there?’

She vaguely pointed at some folded items of clothing on a table in the corner of the room.

‘I need to explain something.’ I said, in desperation.

‘No time now; the doctor is very busy and has other appointments. Please ring the bell when you're changed.’

‘But.’

‘Just ring when you're ready.’

She left the room in a hurry, leaving me somewhat upset, to say the least.

I took all my clothes off and changed into the gown. It wasn’t very pretty.

I felt very exposed and draughty at the back, and I was not a happy bunny.

I rang the bell, and a few minutes later the woman came in.

‘Good, all fixed? Let’s get you into the doctor.’

‘But…’

‘If you have any questions, just ask the doctor.’

I gave up. She just was not going to listen to me. I followed her with a large amount of trepidation out of that room, down the carpeted corridor, and into another room.

It was obviously an examination room with all the usual stuff, you know, torture instruments, drugs, needles, pills, severed limbs… Well, perhaps not that, but I had watched House MD recently, and it kind of put me off doctors of any kind, and what with my very recent accident and the traumatic time spent in hospitals, I was slightly biased against the medical profession.

‘Just sit here. The doctor will be with you in a moment.’

With that, she left the room, leaving me in a state bordering on mild hysteria.

As usual, while I was waiting, my mind went into overdrive.

What if the doctor was angry and disgusted with me for pretending to be a girl?

What if…

‘Hello, Toni.’

I looked around to see a pleasant-looking female doctor. She seemed about thirty years old. She had a white doctor’s coat on, medium brown hair, and a gentle smile.

‘Erm, hello doctor.’

She sat down at her desk, looked at a file of papers, put them down, and then turned to me.

‘Ok, Toni. You received a letter from us about the medical. It’s not going to hurt you or anything like that. It’s just that these stuffy life insurance people don’t trust anyone not to drop dead, making them pay out thousands, something they don't want to do unless they have to. Just looking at you, you look pretty OK to me, but I have to run a few tests just for form’s sake.’

She shuffled a few papers on her desk and then continued.

‘First of all, I know it’s embarrassing, but could you slip off your gown and pop yourself on the couch over there, as I need to give you a gynecological exam? I’m sure that you have had many before, so you know it's a little uncomfortable, but there is no need to worry. After that, I’ll take some blood and other things, sound your chest, and prod and poke you in various places, and that will be it. Toni, are you OK? You look pale.’

I looked at her. She had a kind face. Perhaps she won’t shout at me.

‘I’m not a girl.’ I whispered.

‘Pardon, dear, I can’t hear you.’

I cleared my throat. I could feel a few tears go down my face, hitting the starchy white gown like little bombs.

‘I am not a girl.’

‘Sorry, dear, it’s a failing of mine. You are, of course, a young woman. A very pretty young wom…’

‘I am a boy.’

‘Pardon me?’

‘I am a boy.’ I said, looking up through my tears at a face that looked concerned and puzzled at the same time.

She looked at her papers and then looked up at me again.

‘Are you transgender?’

I nodded, not able to speak.

‘Well, silly. Why didn’t you tell me, letting me blunder on like that?’

‘I tried to tell your receptionist, but she didn’t give me a chance.’

‘Yes, sorry about that. She’s an agency. I’ve only had her for a few days, and she’s driving me mad. My normal girl is off with the flu.’

‘She said that you were in a hurry and had lots of appointments, so if you want me to go…’

‘One, I don’t have lots of appointments; I pick and choose my hours and the number of patients I see. Two, this isn’t the NHS; I am private and can charge extortionate fees to clients who can well afford it. Three, that woman will have to go. Anyway, enough about my problems; let's talk about yours. I want you to sit there and tell me all about yourself. Then and only then will I examine you. OK?’

I nodded.

‘So tell me everything. I have a feeling that you have a few things to, ah, get off your chest. I noticed, by the way, that you are still wearing your bra. Breast forms?’

‘Yes. Well, um… It all started with a letter…’

I told her all my adventures, if you want to call them that. The misunderstandings, dressing for the first time; going out dressed as a girl; finding that I liked the way I looked and felt; realizing that I liked myself better as a girl than a boy. Then I told her about the interview with my uncle and the shocking revelations. Then I explained about what happened when I had the accident and finally the incident in the shopping center with those two idiots.

‘Well, you have been through it, haven’t you? I take it you have not discussed your gender problems with a doctor yet?’

‘No, my friend, Sheila has told me that I must do that before I make any final decisions.’

‘Very wise. Why do you feel more like a girl than a boy? After all, you have been a boy most of your life. Just putting on pretty clothes and liking them doesn’t mean that you are a girl, you know.’

I struggled to put words to my feelings.

‘It’s just that I feel more complete as a girl. It’s like before, when I dressed and looked like a boy, I wasn’t very good at it. I was never good at boy’s games. I was shy and withdrawn. I didn’t like rough and tumble. I was bullied a bit at school, but no more than other kids. It wasn’t a bad school really, all boys, no girls. I thought I was OK when I was there, but looking back, I was a square peg in a round hole. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Yes, I do. Do you feel more comfortable with being a girl then?’

‘Yes, it’s like I’ve spent most of my life being something that I’m not. I like the way I look now and how other people seem to like me. I’m not so shy, and I have friends. I never had many friends before, as a boy. I feel as if my life has just started.’

The doctor looked at her watch.

‘OK, we’ll talk more another time. Let’s do the exam.’

As promised, she prodded and poked me. She then got me up on the couch and did a thorough examination of me, including my little boy's toys and, yuk, rectum! Finally, she made me wee in a small bottle, took about an armful of blood, and then told me to get dressed.

‘Come back here when you are dressed, and we’ll finish things up for today. All right?’

I nodded and walked to the changing room, quickly got dressed, and then went back into the exam room.

The doctor was writing on her pad as I came in, and she motioned me to a chair.

‘Won’t be a tick.’

She finished writing and then turned to me.

‘OK, Toni, that’s all your tests done. You look very lovely, by the way. You will have absolutely no problems passing. Now back to your medical, I don’t think that you have any problems regarding your health that need concern you. I will be sending your samples to the lab, and we should get a result in a few days, but I’m not too concerned that anything is likely to drop off you in the near future. However, you need to address the conflicts that you have with your gender. I see quite a few people with problems of this nature, but I am not an expert. I can put you in touch with a doctor that specializes in this, and she will help you with any permanent decisions you may wish to make. She is a lovely lady, and I highly recommend her. Would you like me to give her a call?’

I thought for a moment and then just nodded.

‘OK.’

She picked up the phone, dialed a number, and waited a few seconds.

Hi, Sally, It’s June. How are you? Kids? Great; look, I have a young lady here who needs to talk to someone about her M-to-F gender situation. Could you see her? When are you free? Hah, tell me about it.’

Doctor June looked at me and smiled while we waited.

‘Thanks, Sal. Yes, I’ll see if that’s OK.’

She turned to me.

‘She can see you on Saturday morning at nine. Is that OK with you?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Sal, Saturday at nine is fine. See you at the squash club on Thursday, bye.’

She put the phone down.

‘Well, Toni, things are moving in a positive direction for you. Are you happy?’

‘More relieved, really. It’s nice to have people who are willing to help me.’

‘The trouble is, there are a lot of kids out there who can’t or won’t get the help for whatever reason. Too often, they harm themselves, and that’s a tragedy. Anyway, you have a job to go to, and that stupid receptionist needs a few words spoken to her, so push off now, and I’ll let you know when the exam results come in.’

She stood up, and we shook hands, and I left.

As I walked out of the building, I felt happier than I had for a long time. I was making decisions on my life now and not being pushed from pillar to post by events outside my control.

I walked the few blocks to the office building where I hoped I would be working for quite some time, took a deep breath, and walked through the doors.