It was just Mom and me, unfortunately it has been that way for quite a few years now. Once Dad had done the deed, he no longer wanted to be a part of her life. I guess for a while Mom debated about having an abortion. In the end, with a little financial help from her parents, I was welcomed into the family. According to Mom, I was a handful, both before she had me and afterward. I was cranky all the time making for many sleepless nights for her. I received the name Tab, after her favorite male star Tab Hunter. If I had been female at birth I would have been named Tabitha.
Nothing special as a child, I did receive lots of love from Mom, never lacking for attention and caring. The word love was never used at the time, but felt never the less. From an early age I had chores, small tasks at first, but always explained to me in detail and followed up on to make sure I performed the task and did it well. As I got older more chores were assigned, never more than I could do, but necessary to keep the house neat and clean. She did more than her share always, but the ones I performed helping her in her struggles as a single Mom.
She did odd jobs around the neighborhood, taking in laundry, ironing and anything else she could find to support herself and me. Quite often, I had kids to play with as she baby sitted often and sometimes for more than one child.
One day she was approached by one of the Mom’s friends she was babysitting for wanting to know if she was interested in a job. Her friend owned a beauty salon and she had just recently merged with a larger chain. Business was booming and she needed more help, she remembered Mom mentioning she had learned to do hair so she brought it up. Mom went to talk to the owner the next day, that night she returned now having a job of her own. She was so proud, maybe things will be easier for us now.
The training was something she learned when in high school. Her degree in cosmetology was courtesy of the technical school attached to the high school. After having me and getting me to pre-school age she wanted to get a job in that profession, as a means to support us. The opportunities never were available though so she plowed forward the only way she knew.
As soon as I got old enough I worked part time jobs for spending money, since what little Mom made went to bills and rent. We got along fine, not really destitute, just that money was often extremely tight. I mowed lawns, even did a little babysitting at times. As I got older, Mom allowed me to help out at the salon she worked at in the evenings cleaning up after a day’s business. That is when I didn’t have school the next day. To Mom, school was not an option for me; she was determined that I get my diploma, an essential for any further education I might want.
Mom had a funny outlook on life, at least I thought it was. To her nothing came without lots of hard work, so she set goals for me when I entered high school. If I worked hard and got excellent grades I would get a reward. If I failed to achieve a certain level, I had to pay a penalty, one that would make an impression on me. It in a way it was a double reward system. I did well, I got a reward and also could forgo the penalty.
High school was the practice for the incentives and punishments she planned to implement. All of her intricate system of motivation was set for my college years. So as I progressed through high school my grades were examined and she would tell me that if I carried on at that level I could expect rewards. Grades lower and I would be embracing the feminine gender. It was a strong incentive, and pretty much worked during my high school years. All but one semester qualified for some type of rewards, that one time she had me pull from the proposed forfeitures, the slip telling me that I would have breasts, a C cup size and glued on for a year. I nearly fainted on the spot, it is one thing to be told of a penalty, but to actually draw it out and then be expected to submit to it, quite frightening.
Since I was of the male gender, all retributions involved doing something female, and for a minimum amount of time. Mom played on a male’s fear of anything feminine. Although I desired them as a partner, I definitely did not want to join their ranks. It worked, I was constantly aware of the penalty’s presence, Mom made sure of that, encouraging me to do better to avoid their implementation. I had so many dreams over the years of running afoul of the game and having to take that first step towards femininity.
Every once in a while she would add to the choice of penalties, now fifteen to choose from kept in a glass jar on the dining room table. In plain sight, to remind me that they were there, waiting for me to make a mistake and have to choose one. It was all spelled out, crystal clear both the rewards and the penalties. I would receive a reward for a GPA of 3.6 or higher, every tenth of a point better than that a bigger reward. A GPA of 4.0 getting me a car, a most sought after reward for me.
Mom had made some good money doing salon work the last couple of years, stashing it all away for later, maybe college if I could achieve the required entrance requirements. She would also pay for my retributions if I didn’t produce the minimum results she desired. I was now in the first semester of junior college, the first step towards a possible college degree. Now, as she would say we are playing for all the marbles. A minimum GPA guaranteeing me another semester of college, along with a reward for my hard work. Below that a penalty and my college days probably forfeited.
Mom knew I was smart, so I had no excuse for not making the minimum grades necessary. An IQ test in high school put my IQ at over 180, so I was easily capable of the work. Where my problem was and still is, I don’t always focus and minor annoyances throw off my mind, and everything comes apart. That is the reason for all the elaborate reward/penalty proposition to encourage me to stay interested and give me something to work for while trying to avoid the penalties.
Often Mom would tell me of instances during my childhood where I was playing with something and I would go quiet, then just get up and walk away leaving those toys strung all over and not put back in the toy box. This and other actions culminated in changes during my last year of grade school.
During eighth grade my behavior precipitated all of this motivational strategy. I had trouble with a teacher, the fault was mine, but hostilities developed, at least on my part. I literally came apart. I failed my proficiency test, a test to determine that we learned the basics so we could graduate. Only Mom’s intervention got me a chance to take the test again, one week later. I did pass that test only one point above the minimum passing grade.
I am not even sure what some of the penalties were now, at the time they were added to the pot, she had explained them in detail, but time and other things tend to make you forget. Well maybe not forget, just hoping they would go away. I did graduate high school with a GPA of 3.7, noteworthy but only college time counted in the new system. Now we were approaching the issuance of first semester grades, my first semester in junior college. As she has pointed out, I was now playing for real.
We had reached an agreement that I could still attend the junior college if I didn’t hit the minimum GPA for the rest of the year. But failure to achieve it the second semester would end my college days. I studied pretty hard, maybe not as hard as I should have, but was quite confident of making the magical 3.6 mark. I had just finished my finals, grades could be attained tomorrow by signing into the school internet site.
That night Mom and I talked after dinner. She wanted to know how I thought I did in my classes, a frequent conversation that we shared. Then she surprised me by asking if I might want to make a little side wager. “I think you are being over confidant, so to make sure that you get the full effect of my little game if you fail to hit the minimum mark. At a GPA of 3.5 or below you would have to choose a penalty from the jar. My little side bet is if you don’t hit it, you will have to draw two penalties. If you do manage the minimum she will throw in an extra reward to go with whatever you manage to qualify for.”
The reward for a GPA of 3.6 is a new computer, something I could easily embrace. If I took her side wager, I would get three hundred dollars in software in addition to the computer if I made the grade. Stupid me fell for her scheme, agreeing to the side wager. My gut telling me to take a pass on this bet, my mind only seeing the additional rewards. Stupid mind!
Since I was drawing the forfeitures, it wasn’t her making me do things, my own hand would decide my fate. Whatever retribution I chose, I would have to call and arrange for the task, further making the chosen task more humiliating. I didn’t sleep well that night, worrying about what might transpire today. I avoided the computer the next morning, even though the grades would be posted shortly after seven AM.
Mom was right there asking “Well how did you do?” That was her question as she was leaving for the salon. When I didn’t reply she smiled. “Not that confident huh?” She knew me too well. “If you don’t make it, be sure to pick your forfeitures and call the salon for your appointment. In fact, to keep down the temptation to go through the penalties and pick the less invasive ones, pick two now and I will put the rest away for later.” Her grin got bigger but I did as she requested and selected two slips of paper out of the jar. She put them on the refrigerator behind a kitchen magnet and kissed me on the forehead and left. She took the jar with her, probably going to lock it in her trunk. My own Mother not trusting me. She was one smart cookie.
I was miserable, I wasn’t confidant, but realizing now was not the time to be wishing I had done more. I went to my computer, logged on to the internet and then the school site. I typed in my name and the password and watched as the numbers appeared on the screen. Yep, what I feared had happened, my head instantly dropping to stare at my feet. I am sure all of my blood rushed to my head, feeling a light headed kind of floating feeling overtaking my body. I am not sure what went through my mind for the next thirty minutes; when I finally joined the living again I was still staring at my feet, seriously depressed.
Then clarity seemed to take over my brain, 3.4 GPA oh shit a third penalty now to be invoked. I did look to see what class or classes had done this to me. As if the class itself could have put me in this predicament. Two of my most detested classes, had succeeded in making my life now worthless. English Literature and French, now those two had done what no one else could, turn my life upside down. Both classes registered a GPA of 3.2 pulling my other grades down with them. The highest grade I made was in American History and Trigonometry, both with a grade of 3.8, nothing to brag about but lacking in any strings attached.
Knowing Mom I knew I had to take the initiative, before she had her chance in intercede. I walked to the refrigerator and removed my destiny. I decided to sit for the unveiling, in case of fainting not so far to fall. I unfolded both papers, laying them flat on the kitchen table. I purposefully didn’t look until I had them both open. I slid the one to the side and glanced at my fate. I could feel the red spreading all over my body, as my mind focused on the penalties.
The first penalty was nail extensions, half inch in length for nine months or three-quarter inch in length for six months, bright red at all times and no covering for the hands at any time. The sigh escaped my mouth, I wasn’t conscious that I did it, it just sneaked out and made its statement public.
The second penalty was high heels, three inch height if I wanted to experience them for a year, four inch heel height for nine months. Mom and her time restrictions, a sure way to make the penalty not something easy to ignore or somehow to forget. The heels would be required anytime I was not in my bed, no exceptions. I didn’t make any vocal comments on this one, I am sure the combination of the two would make me see the errors of my ways. In fact, I could already see where I had to improve and soon before I appeared as a female full time.
Then I remembered the third one yet to be chosen, and a tear slowly slid down my cheek. Not for any other reason than my life was going to be much harder in the next few months. I called the salon, told them who I was and made an appointment for the nail extensions, the gal that answered talking with somebody in the background. I instantly knew that this was going to get worse, the receptionist informing me that I had an appointment tomorrow morning at eight AM with Cheryl, my Mom. My mind was suddenly reeling.
Recently the salon had gone through some changes. At first they were known as the Girly Gurl Salon. Now the owner had refocused on performing their services on males, her initial focus when the salon was first started. Since the popularity of Turnabout dances, and everything that had morphed into, the new name was the Turnabout Gurl Salon. Enter a male, perform a turnabout and a female will leave. The salon has been swamped ever since.
I thanked her and hung up, walking slowly to my bedroom and laid on my bed. Maybe by some miracle tomorrow would not come, and I will be spared the humiliation of getting my nails done, by none other than my Mother! I knew the salon where she worked carried clothes, lingerie and shoes, so the appointment tomorrow would handle both of my new restrictions on life.
I decided to try and make dinner tonight, any help in my relations with Mother sorely needed. I found a couple of frozen entrees, something I could add to make them taste other than frozen cardboard. A couple of years ago, Mom had taught me the basics of this type of cooking, adding spices and other ingredients to change the entrée from barely palatable to something able to be eaten, maybe even desired.
I worked in the kitchen for over an hour doing my best to make something that might get me a lessened penalty, Mom is the type to never excuse a mistake; she might go a little easier but never absolve it. I had set the table, one look at it and she would know my intent, she is very observant and knows all my excuses and attempts to evade her intentions. I would indeed pay the forfeiture, but maybe I could get some time off or a minor concession in its implementation.
The food was ready and I heard her car in the drive. I let out an audible sigh, my recent dreams of a car for me just that, a dream. I welcomed her at the door, she instantly knew my intent, but hugged me closely anyway. Stepping back she said, “Now let’s see what my new daughter has up her sleeves tonight,” as she walked to the dining room. I was still standing in the hall with my mouth wide open. Daughter where did that come from? I did catch up with her, she took my hand and held it as she looked at the table, all set in our better china and ready for the food. I left her to get the food to the table bringing in each dish and setting it on the table then returning to get the other items. A fresh salad with her favorite dressing, was the last thing I brought to the table.
“Well daughter of mine, we seem to have a major crisis on our hands; a certain talented and smart member of this family has let her Mother down from the look of the table.” I just looked at her with my head hanging down. “We will eat and then explore what can be done to correct this situation. I am sure I can come up with something to make you willing to make changes in the future. You do agree don’t you?”
Dinner was in silence, she did compliment me on the meal preparation, mentioning that if all else fails, I should be able to gain employment as a cook for some well to do family. That implying that I would have nothing in my life other than to work for someone else as a domestic.
I cleared the dishes, even getting them in the dishwasher, something I have never done before. I knew how, but just never attempted to do it. Somehow today it seemed like the smart thing to do. With the last of my excuses used up, I made my way to the living room, Mom tapping the seat next to her on the couch. As I set down, I saw the damn glass jar with my possible penances inside and knew that I would now find the rest of my soon to be struggles waiting to be chosen.
I sat down and then leaned forward and chose another damn slip of paper. I handed it to her, I really didn’t want to see what fate had decided for me. She cleared her throat and pointed to the jar again, now for the side wager the only words out of her mouth. I closed my eyes and picked again, handing her the additional slip of paper. Four penalties, four things to suffer through for the coming months, all because I didn’t apply myself. Mom knew that I had already learned my lesson, but to suffer through each penance over the coming months would make those learned lessons hard wire in my mind. never to be forgotten or ignored.
I leaned back in the couch laying my head on the back of the couch. With my eyes still closed, she asked me if I wanted to know what I had to submit to, whispered into my fuzzy excuse for a mind. I shook my head no, “just surprise me tomorrow. It can’t get much worse can it?” She opened the slips and peeked at them, then leaned forward and inserted them in her purse, no doubt to show me tomorrow when it came time to administer the treatments.
Quietly she told me that she knew last night about my GPA, but wanted to know how I might handle it. I gave her a quizzical look, “Remember Julia, she works for the school administration, so I knew yesterday before we made the side bet. I wanted to see how far your confidence would carry you, and I guessed right, so it will be a pleasure to have a daughter for several months. Boys can be so predictable and boring. That further demoralized me, I had been played like a musical instrument, by one of the best. She apparently getting everything she wanted and me helping her get it. Just call me stupid as I should have known better than to bet with Mother.
I went to my room, I needed to talk to somebody about the things coming up and I knew Mother would not be the best choice for that discussion. I called Jan, a frequent co-conspirator at school. She was shocked that I called her, I seldom interacted with anyone from school, although I had been asked several times to one of their houses or to a school function. I asked if I could come over, I desperately needed to talk to somebody about what is going to happen tomorrow, and maybe get some advice from her. There was enough mystery about how I phrased things that she was hooked. Of course, she was instantly ready, even offering to come to my house. We only lived about three blocks apart, not a problem for either of us.
“Your house will be best, is twenty minutes alright?” I asked.
She would be waiting, now anxious to see what this is all about. I grabbed some fruit from the refrigerator, a known favorite of her for lunches, snacks, or just something to pass away the time. I politely asked Mom for permission to go to Jan’s house, getting a raised eyebrow look from her. She never denies me this but I wanted to make sure that all niceties were being used, you never know when a favor might be needed or granted.
I walked the three blocks, stepped up on their porch and knocked. Jan was right behind the door apparently, opened it and hugged me then dragged me to their patio. We got comfortable each nibbling on a piece of fruit, Jan choosing an apple, while I chose an orange. I told her everything, her giggling and open mouth indicative of her reactions to my tale. I explained about tomorrow, then asked if she was faced with something like this, but as a boy what would she do? She was quiet for a few minutes, thinking about her possible response.
“What kind of relationship do you have with your mother?”
I had mentioned about her calling me her new daughter, a fact that I had ignored but Jan thought there might be more there than meets the eye. Instead of giving me her opinion, she listed all of my options, for how I could handle the situations. “You could just take what is coming, suffer it out until the penance is over or you can embrace the change, trying to learn from it. Your changes are going to be very noticeable, so why not go a little further and see what living as a female might be like.”
“If your mother is missing a daughter, would it be so bad for you to give her that female, to do things with her, to explore her life some, see why she does things the way she does?” That caused me to re-evaluate my thinking. Jan may have something there.
We talked about a lot of the things she does with her Mother, and how much closer they had become recently since Jan is trying to be a part of her life. It wasn’t always that way, during her teen years they fought tooth and nail about everything, one of Jan’s friends having the same talk with her as we are having now.
It wasn’t instant bonding, but Jan stayed the course and soon they were doing things together and the fighting and hostility had vanished. They both understood each other better, but more importantly they had respect for each other.
Jan dropped the subject, then we chit chatted about school, about the two classes that put me here, about the teachers and about what is was like to be female. I had been a pseudo member of their little group, included but not a full-fledged member. Jan and three of her female friends made up the group. I had listened to a lot of their discussions at school, but wisely never offered an opinion on any of the matters discussed. They tolerated my presence, looked at me as maybe an equal, but reserved any further involvement in their group until I was vetted.
All during this idle chat I had been formatting a way to maybe do this right. It was not a plan, but thoughts that when put together might make some sense in the grand scheme of life. Jan finally wound down, her eyes locked on mine trying to figure out what was going through my mind. I swallowed especially hard, and asked if she would do me a big favor. “It is an idea that I might want to do tomorrow, but I am not sure.”
She could see that the idea was at the tip of my tongue, but was not peeking out for fear of being rejected immediately. A smile came to her face, then she jumped up and went to her room, returning a few minutes later with a bag of clothes for me. I peeked in the bag, the only words escaping from my mouth, “Is how did you know?” Her reply, “It is written all over you face, I think it is the right way to proceed, but you know it is going to be hard on you. Until you present a little more feminine look, society will not look favorable on you.”
“I have included a skirt and blouse, and a dress if you really want to make a statement. Of course, a pair of panties to make you feel feminine. Your mannerism at school are not that boyish, remember to take smaller steps, talk with less volume and smile a lot. Your feet are too big for my shoes, if I remember you have a white pair of sneakers that will be fine for tomorrow. Have confidence in yourself that is where you failed in your grades. You can do the work, but you constantly doubt yourself.” My mind was going numb.
She continued, “Tomorrow pretend that you are female for the whole day, and forget about Tab. Act like a female, from how you dress to how you interact with people. You see something you like, walk in and buy it. When you get to the salon, pretend you are a customer to get beautified and act accordingly. Pick out the shade of red you want for your nails, the color and height of the heels you want. Your Mom will be proud of you facing up to your challenge, not just suffering through it.”
“Most importantly let me be a small part of your life tomorrow, I will treat you to lunch if you will let me. I have always seen something in you, but you have been so terrified of it seeing daylight that you have repressed it behind so many locked doors it never stood a chance to peek out.” I agreed to lunch, even a public place a short walk from the salon. It was a hangout for the school folk, so I knew I would be observed by many of my former classmates. Better to get it out in the open quickly as my new look certainly would not be able to be hidden or camouflaged. Feeling somewhat better after our talk and knowing that I had a friend who would be there to help was helping me accept what was going to be the ‘new’ me.
I thanked her for helping me, and wanted to give her a hug, but was still too unsure about it. I walked home with a little more spring in my step, taking shorter strides and trying to keep to an invisible line on the sidewalk. I entered the house, found Mom in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher and gave her a gigantic hug. I literally skipped out the door and to my room, probably confusing the heck out of her. I stashed the clothes Jan had lent me in my closet, out of sight and then turned on my stereo, put on my headphones and relaxed on the bed.
I did think of tomorrow, but no longer dreaded it. An adventure, full of peril, danger and many possible outcomes, but an adventure never the less. After an hour, I accessed the internet looking for hints on becoming more female, even finding a few sites for males wishing to be female. I looked at all the possibilities, but just took it all in, no selections, no things I felt I had to do, just an information gathering jaunt.
I got ready for bed, went down to the living room to give my Mom a kiss. It used to be standard practice, but recently any little thing was an excuse to not indulge. She was sitting watching TV and I approached and leaned down to give her a hug and a cheek kiss. Her mouth was open wide, startled would be the word used. She recovered quickly wanting to know if I wanted to ride in to work with her. I smiled, “No, I’ll take the bus thank you.” An eyebrow arch from her, but she didn’t respond. I am sure she sat there for quite some time trying to figure out what I was up to.
The trip with her would keep my exposure minimal, but the bus would mean more exposure especially on the trip back. I decided I need to embrace this fully and without reservations. Thus the bus trip in and back, not the easiest but forcing me to face what was ahead for me directly.
I sash-sayed back to my room, a confused Mother figure was my success for tonight. Maybe two can play the game, although her expertise would be hard to match. I didn’t worry, somehow my talk with Jan had eased my concern about what was to happen tomorrow, at least a different outlook was now available. I took a shower, deciding at the last moment to shave my legs and what little hair on my body. It was an impulse I admit, but if I was brave enough to wear the dress to the appointment I needed to not call more attention to myself.
Sleep came surprisingly easy, I don’t remember any dreams and the alarm at seven waking me with a tune. The song Up, Up and Away came over the speakers, maybe an omen for today. Mom had yelled good bye around seven she always had early appointments, a concession, so she could be with me later in the day. I told her I loved her and would see her soon. That ought to give her something to think about on the trip to work. This was actually turning out to be fun, I hoped the fun part would continue once I was immersed in the day’s proceedings.
I put my hair in a high ponytail, as per Jan’s suggestion and pulled up the panties. I almost lost it there, the feeling so unexpected. I did have a few whiskers, but according to Mom I would not get many since Dad was almost hair free on the face. Those were quickly done away with. I looked at the dress, then at the skirt and blouse. Both were feminine, the fact that the dress looked more me, that was the one I chose. Never tried on any female clothes before or wanted to yet the dress looked more me. I am sure my mind was trying to work out that reasoning as the dress slid down over my body. It was a silky fabric, slightly stretchy fitting my body quite snugly.
I worked on the back zipper for nearly ten minutes before pulling the dress up near my shoulders and zipping it up, then readjusted the dress over my waist and hips. I looked at the image in the mirror, it was not particularly a female image, but definitely not a male. I slipped on my sneakers, gathered my ID, some money and my one debit card tied to my savings account and headed to the bus stop. I had found an old fanny bag, which I appropriated, stuffing my things in it and then slinging it over my shoulder, rather than fastening it around my waist. The money was mine to spend, but she insisted I had to use the debit card, making me think again if I really wanted the item before I purchased it.
A short block to the bus stop, the bus coming along about ten minutes after I arrived. I swallowed hard as I climbed the three steps to the bus and deposited my fare. I received a smile from the driver, hoping that he was not snickering at me. The other passengers looked at me, but soon returned to their paper or staring out the window. The trip took about twenty minutes, across this end of town. I pulled the buzzer and was let off a half block from the salon. I had made the same trek numerous times when I had to meet Mom at the salon for shopping, or to eat out and then when I helped her clean the salon.
I walked the short distance, then entered the salon. I gave my name to the receptionist, she smiled then told me to be seated Cheryl will be with you, as soon as finishes her present customer. I noticed a sign behind the reception desk asking for sales help for their clothing store. Since I had started mid-term, I had the long summer ahead. Maybe I could make a few extra dollars and kill some time. I doubt I will be doing many male things this summer given my altered appearance.
I asked about the job, the receptionist calling a number on the phone then asking me to follow her. I was led into an office at the back of the salon, walking right by where Mom was doing another manicure. The lady stood to greet me, giving me a tender hug instead of a handshake. “I am Francine, you must be Tabitha, have a seat and we will talk about the job.”
“I saw the sign at reception, I am interested in the job, but I have something to confess first.” I started on the story of how I am sitting here, in a dress and going to be made more feminine shortly. She listened, then looked at her watch. She picked up her phone then talked to someone and a few moments later Mom appeared at the door.
I tried to act confident, but my nerves were about to make me sick. “Cheryl, I was just talking to Francine about the sales job. I am definitely interested, so can you help make me be more presentable so that I fit in better? If you could do that, I would be forever in your debt.” I walked out telling Francine I would be back after my appointment, walking right to Mom’s station. Mom finally caught up, turned me around and with a big smile she giggled. I was examined very carefully, her eagle eyes not missing much. Believe me the dress was well scanned with every little detail about the dress was noted. I set down in the chair, asking her where she wanted to start. “Please accept my apology for the condition of my nails.” A phrase Mom had often repeated that her customers had told her.
Another giggle but this time I was hugged from behind, a welcome feeling for this confused person in a dress. She told me that we would do the nails first then proceed from there. Both hands were immersed in a bowl of solution and soaked for ten minutes or more. She cleaned the nail, removing something from around the edge of the nail. Then she got out her box of extensions. “Well Ms. Hunter, have you decided how long you want the extensions?” I smiled asking her, “Could you show me the difference in the lengths?” Since she was treating me just like I was one of her regular customers.
She laid an extension of each length on a finger, so that I could see the difference in the lengths. I pondered over the decision, asking her how long it would take me to get used to the length. Her answer was a week or two, depending on what activities I engaged in. I reminded myself that I was confidant today, I was going to get that job no matter what, the longer lengths shouldn’t be much of a problem then, the work not likely that physical. I pointed to the longest extension. “I will take a set of those please, can you show me what colors of nail polish I have to choose from?” Silence from her, I had succeeded in leaving her speechless once more. ‘Yes!’ I said to myself, my confidence picking up some more.
She drew over the table with the nail polish on it, allowing me to pick the color I desired, I picked a bright red, it seemed to go with the dress quite well. Mom was still left without words, now is the time to step into the water all the way. Looking into her eyes, a favorite habit of hers, I asked her if she thought I could get my hair dyed today along with a permanent. “I want something carefree so that I can concentrate on my job at the clothing store. Don’t you think my brunette hair takes away from my looks, something lighter to add a little bounce to my life, maybe even some high lights would do the trick?”
I waited for all of this to sink in, her only words are you sure? “Yes, I am getting older and need to experience more from life. I think a change is due, so can you fit me in or maybe one of the other stylists can help?” She left for a few minutes, then returned telling me, “I could be fit in for both of those treatments at three this afternoon. This is one of the busier days all of the stylists are booked up till later, only makeup and hair removal have any open spots.”
“That will be fine, I have an appointment for lunch after I talk to Francine about the job, but I can be back by three. Let’s figure on highlights, a light blonde in color to help make my hair pop. A loose curly permanent to hold my set. And, I am thinking weekly appointments should allow me to maintain my appearance in an adequate manner.”
The talk with Jan had given me all of these phrases and things to ask for, the end result giving Mom the daughter she apparently desired. If I was wrong about her desiring a daughter, it might be an interesting summer, though probably very long.
Mom was definitely sporting the deer in the headlights look, not a word escaping her lips. I asked if she was going to finish my nails, I didn’t want to miss my lunch date. She resumed her work picking out a set of the longest extensions in her box of goodies and laying them by my fingers. After she got them glued on I asked her if she remembered what my other two penances were from earlier. Could they be performed later when I came back for my hair, or maybe squeezed in now if someone was available to fix me up.
I mentioned that before I left I would go next door and pick my heels. “I think a pair of black and a pair of white heels should be my first choices, the colors going with most clothing.”
She placed my hands under a UV light to set the adhesive, the nail extensions extending an inch beyond my fingertips. They looked awesome, I knew they would take some getting used to, but there is not much difference between three-quarters of an inch and the inch long nails that now adorned my fingers. They are still extremely long anyway you look at it. A clear base coat, then three coats of my bright red polish followed by a clear top coat each application hardened under the UV light. There would be no one missing my hands, the polish drawing all eyes to my now delicate looking hands. The length of the extension making my fingers look small and narrow, a female’s hands for sure.
She was finishing, but she had not divulged my other penances. I reminded her again, she withdrew her purse from the drawer and handed me the two slips of paper. I eagerly looked at what they said, one requiring me to remove my eyebrows, the other simply to wear breast forms from now on, glued on to prevent premature removal. I figured the makeup tech could do my eyebrows, but didn’t know about the forms. Mom’s next customer showed up and I left to go to the front to pay after leaving Mom a tip. As I walked away she was holding the tip in her hands, but a bewildered look on her face.
After paying I returned to Francine’s office and asked if I could apply for the job. I was invited in with her complimenting me on the nails. I told her I liked them, but needed a couple of days to get used to them. She told me that she was aware of me being Cheryl’s new daughter, but wanted to know what my real reason for wanting the job. I explained the part I didn’t get to this morning. “I had agreed to everything but I did not apply myself, so the penance is deserved. I have since come to the conclusion that Mom might have wanted a daughter, so I have appointed myself as her new daughter for the summer, at least.”
“I love her and she has done so much for me that I have never thanked her for, or shown her my gratitude. That’s why I am going to start now; trying to pay her back for all she has done for me. If I learn something about the female sex, that is a plus, but my only wish is to show her how much I care for her and all she has tried to do for me over the years.”
Francine shoved over a stack of papers and had me fill them out. “You start tomorrow, at ten AM working six hours a day Monday thru Saturday. I will cover you beauty services, also allowing you a basic wardrobe as part of the job. Minimum wage at first until we can see what you can do, then we can make proper adjustments. The clothing allowance is one thousand dollars and you will receive two appointments for beauty services each week. I can’t have my sales associates looking less that their best. I do expect dresses or skirts every day, heels at all times, and makeup proper for business attire. Is there any questions?”
I giggled no. “Are you going to tell my Mother or do I get to give her the news?”
“Let me tell her, I have a few other statements that I need to remind her of, a good time to handle both at the same time.” With those words, she gathered the filled out forms, placed them in her drawer and came around to give me a big hug. I thanked her for the job, I will try hard and learn things as fast as I can. I want to make you proud of me, to show my appreciation for the job.
I gave her a hug and thank you, needing to hurry to make my lunch date with Jan. “One more question one of my tasks is that I have to complete is to start wearing breast forms, can the salon help me with that?” I got a big smile and was told that she would arrange it, after your luncheon date come back and we will take care of you.
I walked the short distance to the restaurant, Jan was there in the lobby waiting for me. I was nearly knocked down as she attacked me. The squeal was heard all through the building, several other customers giggling at her antics. The hostess led us to a table, handed us menus, and then commented on my nails. I had to tell her where I had them done, how much they cost and a zillion other questions. It was at least ten minutes later when she returned to the lobby, then the waitress showed up, wanting to know the same things. Jan was snickering, mixed with a few giggles, but enjoying my predicament. Finally our orders were placed, and all was quiet at the table.
Jan had already heard about the nails, but she wanted to know what my Mom said and did. Then I mentioned that I had gotten a job in their dress shop, squeal haven again until she finally wound down. In between our food was brought out, we nibbled on it but the emphasis was still on all that went on at the salon. She asked about what other things I had to do as part of Mom’s plan. I explained about my soon to be lack of eyebrows and that I would be sporting breasts later that day.
Jan got quiet for a while, I knew she was worried about me, things are progressing at break neck speed, maybe a little too fast for me to be able to adjust to them. I asked her to please stick with me, I am handling things okay so far, but the other shoe has yet to drop. I am sure I will need someone to talk to, to express my feelings to and be able to ask their advice. I hope that person will be you. I am sure Mom and I will talk a lot, and that will be good, but at times I need a friend, to listen and offer me other options that might be available in life.
We finished our meals, leaving a little as we are now both full. After paying the bill we walked a little bit to a small park like place next to a large office building. We found a nearby bench and sat down. She watched as I smoothed my skirt before I set down, her signature giggle again showing itself. Her only comment is you are such a girl. She wanted to be sure that I was alright, this is a lot to adjust to for a regular female, much less a newbie.
“I noticed when you were eating, even while taking a drink your nails were not a problem, like they had been there all the time. You made allowances for their length, something that is not automatic in the best of situations. When we were at the cashier to pay the check, your hand movements were practiced, not of a new emerging female. Are you sure you are not a female, just disguising yourself as a male for the kicks?”
Then I decided to ask what I had been thinking about all day. My mind had come back to this many times today, like I was obsessed about it, fading a little but never leaving my active thought processes. I cleared my throat asking Jan if Tabitha could be more than just a friend to her. Silence for a while, but I waited, maybe I have brought the subject up too soon. Maybe she doesn’t have the same feelings as me.
She moved her hands to the side of my face, holding my head firmly and leaned in and planted a sensuous kiss on my lips. It lasted a long time, it was getting hot out here, and I was having trouble breathing. A short pause then again, this time with tongue. “Is it me or is it suddenly very hot out here?” I said trying to catch my breath and slow my beating heart.
That was said to no one in particular. She held my face as she wiped her lipstick off my face, giggled a little, and then told me I had to get back to the salon. “Tomorrow at my place, no excuses and don’t come as anybody other than Tabitha.” Another peck and she walked to the bus stop. I made it back to the salon, I don’t remember a thing about the walk, just that I had made it.
It was a little after two, but the receptionist had recognized me and led back to a treatment room. Take off your clothes, lay back on the table and Edie will be with you shortly. She closed the door as she left, I removed my clothes and laid back on the table. I did leave my panties on, not anxious to advertise my male sex. A tall well-dressed female came sweeping into the room bringing with her several boxes.
I was checked out, then she laid the boxes down and left again to retrieve something else. My chest was treated in a cream, left on for a half hour then removed. She made small talk with me, asking what I did. When I confessed that I was Cheryl’s son soon to be daughter, she smiled then slid down my panties and applied the cream there also. I asked her if it would take care of my eyebrows, another grin and soon they were coated in the cream also.
Another trip out, another box to be added to my assortment sitting at the side of the table. After the cream had performed its job all of it was removed, the hair that it was applied to also vanishing. The first two boxes contained breast forms, sizable breast forms. One was placed over each nipple and then she opened the other box, a women’s sex was laid over my groin, the lips looking quite realistic. The realistic part, a guess on my part, since I had not seen a vagina before, but only from the pictures in our human sexuality class. I had not had the pleasure of even dating a girl, much less seen her privates, breasts included. I can talk to them, help them in their studies, but asking them on a date would be unthinkable. Jan a prime example, the kiss she gave me my first kiss. Wow if that is how all kisses are, well I have been really missing out.
The items she had laid out were secured to my body, my smooth front between my legs the most noticeable. The other boxes she opened had hip pads, of the silicone variety. Those were glued to my rear and the side of my male hips giving me the classic female shape. Then I tried to sit up and the breasts became my focal point. They pulled on my chest drooping slightly because of the weight. She used a filler to blend in all the seams, now my appliances were the same temperature as my body, the silicone feeling almost like real skin.
I caught a glimpse in the mirror, my face now totally feminine looking. No eyebrows, but just the fact that they had been removed make my face look so feminine. It was almost too much too soon, but twenty minutes of me taking slow deep breaths seemed to restore some composure to my system. Composure yes, sanity no, that was still missing.
I was handed a bra, a new necessity for me now plus a pair of panties. The additional padding requiring a bigger size panty. The panties I was handed felt weird as they settled over my new female sex. I felt vulnerable now, sporting a slit that was intended for things to be put in it, not at all what I had been accustomed to. The panties felt good caressing my nether regions, although thin they were still something between the female sex and the rest of the world.
I thought back to a few times I had heard Mom say that a mother daughter special moment is when the daughter gets her first bra. I handed the bra back to Sally, telling her I wanted my mother to help in getting my first bra. She leaned in gave me a big hug and kissed me on the cheek. “Cheryl is so lucky to have such a sweet daughter.”
My mind was racing trying to preserve some sanity and reason for all of this. Yeah, I had failed to keep up my grades, thus earning some of these penances. I had exceeded all her expectations and taken on other changes, voluntarily telling myself they were for Mom. What if they weren’t just for her; that is another whole mystery in itself. I could feel a headache coming on, too many brain cells working at their max, sure to overload all the circuits. My technician Edie smiled and told me, “Take your time. I am done, you just need to slip back into your clothes. If you need to sit here and get your bearings that is fine. I will tell Cheryl where you are when she finishes with her last customer.” I thanked her and reached for my clothes, the dress fitting much better now, since all the vacant spots due to my lack of a feminine figure were now filled, quite attractively filled I might add.
It was about thirty minutes later when Mom came to get me, I wanted a hug but she wanted to see the new me. We compromised, I got the hug then she pushed me back to arm’s length so she could see. I noticed her eyes getting a little misty, I sure hope it is for the reason that I imagined. She had traded one of her appointments to one of the other girls, she wanted to do my hair coloring and permanent herself. Back to her chair, and she began. Soon I appeared to be auditioning for some science fiction movie, the foil used to keep the blonde dye from the rest of the hair quite comical as it stuck out everywhere from my head.
I could tell she was nervous, her years of experience now suddenly seeming to vanish as her hands shook a little as she did my highlights. I asked if Francine had a chance to talk to her yet. Mom blushed, a seldom visible reaction that she was now experiencing. “Yes, I was told that I had a wonderful caring daughter, one that any Mom should be proud of. There could be no favoritism shown while we were in the salon. At home, she suggested that I smother you with love, a treasured daughter not to be taken lightly. Francine assured me that she would be checking on both of us, so she expected both of us to behave properly.”
I got a few minutes respite, sitting under the dryer to process the highlights. Then the foil is removed and my hair is shampooed and conditioned. Then another conditioner before the permanent. My long hair is wound on perm rods, medium in size with a paper between the rod and the hair. I looked quite a site, with a zillion perm rods in my hair. A long cotton strip wrapped around the hair, to protect my face from the perm solution. Then the smelly solution is next.
She asked, “Are you sure? Curly hair will last for several months.”
“Yes, Mother I am sure, I want to be beautiful like you.” That remark requiring several tissues, something apparently getting in her eye. She applied the perm solution, it did have a considerable unpleasant smell to it. A plastic bag to keep in the moisture and under a low heat dryer to process the perm.
I did have a couple of high anxiety moments, but they passed. A look at my nails, reassuring me that what I was doing is the right way to go. It just felt right somehow. Mom came to get me, time to remove the perm rods and see the new curly me. First I was neutralized, then a few minutes and the perm rods were removed. Big bouncy curls were the result.
I swallowed a bit, something suddenly in my throat. No going back now, forward or wholesale destruction of my new image. She cut my hair a little, shaping it to frame my face a little better. Looking in the mirror there was no boy left, only Mom’s new daughter, Tabitha.
The dress that I left the house in earlier now fitting in perfectly with my new look. I asked if she was done for the day, her response allowed me to ask her if she would help me buy my first bra. The tears did slip out this time, they were there earlier, but she managed to stifle them, not this time. She cleaned up, put everything back while I paid up front. Francine caught me, there is no charge for today. I hugged her, but insisted, it is necessary that I pay for this. It’s my gift to Mom. She understood, hugged me then scooted me back to meet Mom.
We walked next door, with me going to one of the dressing rooms to be measured. Mom was with me, sporting a small smile, one of the associates coming to determine the right size bra for me. I first had to remove the dress, then the measurements were taken. Under the breasts, then over the tips of my breasts. There is a three inch difference so I needed a C cup bra. The measurement around my chest under my breasts was thirty-six inches, so I needed a 36C bra. I was handed a robe so that Mom and I could look at the selections available. We wondered around looking at all the pretty offerings. We picked three to try on, and returned to the dressing room. Mom helped me getting them on, adjusting the straps for me.
The associate checked the fit, making a few suggestions. I took in a little larger breath, I had caught myself referring to the appendages in front of my body as my breasts. Maybe a mental health professional might be called for in the near future. I slid into the female role, too easily, actions and words now female in kind. The bra did help with the weight, I never realized how heavy a breast was until now. It definitely helped with the jiggling on my chest, my new orbs having a mind of their own, bouncing and jiggling all over the place.
We made our selections, five in all in several pastel colors and, of course, two white ones. Most were utilitarian although a couple had some lace trim and inserts. Mom insisted on paying for them, for her daughter. I rode with her home, I noticed several side glances as she kept taking in my appearance. I kept quiet, I am sure we will talk at length when we get home.
I went to my room, put my bras up in my dresser. I decided to change out of the dress, the skirt and blouse would be perfect. I changed savoring the feel as I slipped out of the dress. I took the lipstick out of my fanny pack, refreshed it then made my way to the living room. Mom had also changed out of her cute uniform, slipping into some sweats. I gave her a shake of my head that will no longer be acceptable, she has to set the example for me, her daughter. She took the hint and returned to her room to change yet again. This time she had on a flowing pair of silky pants and a gorgeous lace blouse. I smiled and hugged her tightly.
I was dragged to the kitchen, where she put me to work. Apparently no daughter of hers is going to loaf around. We made salads containing most of what was in the produce drawer of the refrigerator, then she made some homemade dressing to go on it. A can of chicken breasts to top the salad and a few croutons for crunchiness. We sat at the breakfast bar nibbling at the salads, until the water was boiling for some Green tea. Two large glasses with lots of crushed ice made it just perfect.
Mom started the conversation, wanting to know why I had suddenly embraced all of this and went so far. I started to mumble a few words, she held up her hand. “I need you to tell me the truth, Francine has already filled me in on her observations but I need to hear it from you. Now young lady, time to tell your Mother the truth and all of it.”
“I feel bad that I didn’t study like I should. I welcome the forfeitures, they are deserved. I went to talk to Jan last night, we discussed this in detail. She asked about the relationship between you and me. She had trouble with her Mom until a friend suggested that she try to understand her, work with her and spend more time with her. It made sense, what you have done for me, trying to see that I did things right means so much to me. I decided for the summer to give you a daughter, someone who loves you so much and wants to share in your life if you will let me. I was determined to get the job, to show you that I have learned my lesson. I will do my best, to learn everything there is to be the best sales associate Francine has ever had.”
“Now can I be your daughter, please?”
I thought she was going to pop my breast forms as hard as she was hugging me. The tears were falling freely, as she mumbled, “Yes, yes of course!” We eventually returned to a somewhat drier eye condition, but she wouldn’t let go of my hand. It felt good, to be held by someone that truly loved me for who I am. It was mentioned that she was supposed to pay for all my penalties, I shook my head no. “A gift for my Mother cannot be paid by someone else. You did a wonderful job, I feel so good, so alive, so right, for a change. I love being pretty, I seriously wonder if I will ever go back. Time will tell, but for this summer, I am your daughter and nothing else.”
Mom mentioned that Francine wanted me to come in early to select my clothes. I told her about seeing Jan first thing. “Why don’t you invite Jan to help you pick out your clothes, she obviously dresses nice and has good taste?”
I let out a female teenage squeal and headed for my room. Mother just laughing away at my reaction. I hit Jan’s number and started babbling at her as soon as she said hi. She was giggling trying to get me to slow down a little. Finally she told me take a deep breath and hold it. I did and almost passed out. Jan’s voice over the phone, “Breathe you stupid girl, breathe!” I recovered quickly but her giggling went on for quite some time. Of course, she will go with me, no female turns down a shopping adventure. I asked what I should wear, the dress or the blouse and skirt. More giggling but she told me she would bring something for me tomorrow.
We talked for at least an hour, Mom poking her head in twice to see me still yakking on the phone. Both times she walked away shaking her head. “Daughters, what are you going to do with them?”
The conversation wound down, we had pretty much discussed everything including boys. Jan assured me that she would catch me up on dating boys, the fun you can have with them not something to let slip by. I was not so sure about it, the slit between my legs reminding me that I now had what boys desired.
I had to remove my makeup, moisturize my face then undress and hang up my clothes. Mom had loaned me a sleep shirt, I slipped that on then turned on my computer. I did a search on different types of female apparel, wanting to learn their names. Mom always described everything she wore with descriptions like a lacey blouse with rounded collar and three-quarter length sleeves. Or a dress with a keyhole neckline and pencil skirt. So much to learn, so I stayed up for two hours, taking notes and studying color combinations that appealed to me.
I eventually slipped under the covers, and instantly fell asleep. No dreams that I can remember, but when the alarm went off I shot out of bed. Today clothes shopping, then my first day at work. I did the bathroom thing, still a little weird when I peed, but nothing to make me want to dress as a boy again. I tried to do something with my hair, but two left hands didn’t accomplish much. Mom to the rescue, five minutes and I looked as good as yesterday. I heard the doorbell and bounded down the stairs, breasts bouncing all over the place. I then remembered that I just had panties and a bra on, nothing else.
I checked to see if it was Jan, then opened the door, standing as much behind it as possible. Jan giggling her head off. “Are we excited this morning or what?” I was nodding my head with one arm over my breasts and the other attempting to cover my pussy. Mom had witnessed the scene from upstairs also giggling. Jan opened the garment bag, taking out the contents and laying the contents on a nearby chair.
I was in love, a gorgeous sundress with wide shoulder straps laid there. It had an ivory background with thousands of little flowers sprinkled all over the dress. A lace covered hem along with a lace border at my shoulders and over the cloth straps adorned the dress. I hugged Jan, telling her how pretty it was while I was trying to get the zipper down so I could try it on. Mom was having a ball upstairs watching my antics, then when I looked up I saw the flashes as she took pictures of my actions.
As the dress settled over me I heard the zipper slide up, the bodice of the dress now conforming to my body. It felt so good on me, I may never take it off. I need a mirror, running to the downstairs bathroom so that I could see how I looked in the dress. As I rounded the corner I saw my image in the mirror, I let out a long squeal, and hugged myself. Mom came running down the stairs, wondering what happened. Once she saw me staring at the mirror, she knew that Tab was now history.
I got hugged then she handed me her debit card. “Along with what Francine is allowing you can spend a thousand more on this debit card. Are you riding with me or are you taking the bus?” I looked at Jan, ran upstairs to get my purse and notes and we all walked out to her car. The trip was pleasant with me talking a mile a minute on what I wanted to see about getting. Mom shaking her head and Jan giggling at my enthusiasm.
Mom went to the salon, Jan and I to the clothing boutique. For a former male, I sure didn’t act like one. By the time Jan had made it over to a rack and looked down one side I had already picked out five outfits to try on. I hoped the sizes I had selected would fit me, the measurements I took last night implied that I was a size ten in misses and eleven to thirteen in juniors. At the end of the rack, I was looking, at I found a perfect sweater dress, my squeal let everyone know of my find. Jan was outright laughing at my antics. I asked the associate where I could try the items on and I almost ran back to the dressing room.
A rack was placed just outside the curtain to put my items on after trying them on. One of the dresses I found was too tight, but the rest fit fine. I hung them on the rack and took the one that didn’t fit and put it back where I found it. I got a funny look from the associate, but Francine explained it away. She had walked in while I was shopping. I was then introduced to Celia, who I would be working with. “I think you will be surprised with Tabitha, not the usual type of gurl. Give her the sale prices on her selections, and remind her when it is time to start work. Good luck with her enthusiasm, I think you will have your hands full helping her.”
With that she strolled back to her office giggling all the way. During that time, Jan had accumulated another hand full, so back to the dressing room and try everything on. Jan found some really good looking items, a dress and a skirt, I was in love with as soon as they settled around my body. My impromptu squealing let everybody know of my love of that item. More items to my purchase pile, a skirt in a color that didn’t look good on me the only thing to return. I found where Jan had found it and placed it back on the rack. Celia was all smiles as she saw me return the item to its proper place.
It was the most intense hour and half that I had ever experienced. Nineteen items that I just had to have, I paid the bill first out of what my Mom had allowed me, happy to know that I still had some unused funds from the thousand. I would save Francine’s allocation for some lingerie and formal stuff. Right on time I reported to Celia asking her, “What am I to do first” I got a big hug from her. “I have just met you but you are so cute, caring and your enthusiasm is off the charts. Let me show you how to ring up sales first.” Jan had found some more items and hung them on my rack so that I could try them on later. She wanted to do some shopping for herself, telling me that she would be back at my lunch period and try them on. I got a hug and she left.
The register was not difficult, after a few sales where she kept an eye on me, Celia said I could ring up sales now after customers found what they wanted. Since Celia was with another customer, I started with the racks going through the items straightening and pulling out ones that belonged elsewhere. We had several sets of customers come in, so I approached one set asking them if I could help them. They were looking for a shirtwaist blouse in tan with long sleeves. I led them to the rack and they started looking. I started at the other end, seeing what I could find for them.
I found two that might fit what they were looking for and one that was not an authentic shirtwaist, but I thought it might look nice on the customer. I showed them the items I found and was promptly hugged. I returned to my self-appointed task, then saw I had a customer at the register. I hurried up there and rang the customer up. Since she had picked out a skirt, I asked if she needed any stockings, or possibly a pair of heels to go with the skirt. She thought for a minute then paid me asking if she could leave her bag here while she looked for a pair of heels.
The customer was taller than usual for a female, her voice a little deeper too. I rang up my previous customer, the ladies taking all three items. The taller lady found a pair of shoes and was waiting to pay for them. The one that bought the blouses asked her if she was male. I thought oh no, am I going to have a problem here? “Yes I am and this boutique is gracious enough to let us shop in peace. Is there a problem?”
The lady just replied, “I admire your looks, I just wish my husband looked half as good as you do in her feminine finery. I really need to get him into the salon and soon. We both need to thank this young lady for being so helpful, it is rare to have one so young and beautiful so caring and courteous.”
I giggled. “Yeah my Mom is happy that I have consented to be her daughter for the summer, it sure beats playing football and hanging with the guys.” Three open mouths and then some tender hugs as they gathered their bags and left. I didn’t see Celia anywhere, no customers in the store so I went back to my work. A short time later Francine appeared, a hundred megawatt smile on her face.
“Celia says you are ready to go it alone, quite a feat for such a young female. So Celia has returned to the salon where she is a regular stylist. When lunch comes she will spell you, while you get something to eat or shop some more. If you need help call extension eleven, her extension or mine which is thirteen. Now go do your thing, I do want to see you in my office before you go home,” she said smiling. I got hugged. I never realized how nice it was to get hugs; something I had missed out on for years.
I went back to what I was doing, getting half of the store straightened and organized before lunch time. Right before lunch we were swamped with customers. Celia had a customer, but Francine came to help. I waited on the customers helping then find what they were looking for and then ringing them up. I did notice that some of the other customers were waiting for me instead of letting Francine help them. But I stayed with it finally getting everybody helped and rang up. Celia, of course, chose that moment waltzing in wanting to know where all the customers were. It is hard to act serious with bits of giggling trying to escape your mouth.
I saw Jan shopping again in the front of the store, asking her if she wanted to eat or shop. I should have known better, so we spent my lunch shopping for some more outfits. She found several for herself as she explained, “I can’t let a mere male dress better than me, unwritten law number two!” I knew that I would have to be careful, working in the clothing store as it was giving me an unfair advantage. Jan’s friendship meant more to me than looking nice. Day after day, in a new outfit would make Jan feel jealous, something I didn’t want to happen. I would have to save all the new outfits for days Jan was otherwise occupied.
Working at the store did eventually settle down to what would become normal for me. I loved the job anxious to get here in the morning and hesitant to leave at night. As the store did more business the problem of Jan disappeared since we hired her as a part-time sales associate. Thus she had some extra money and could buy her own clothes. I guess my enthusiasm in selling clothes worked, we have had a steady increase in sales ever since I came to work. I am not tooting my own horn, but helping people pick out beautiful clothes is so much fun.
Can you imagine a former male with a fantastic job and wearing the most beautiful and feminine clothes. I never did go back to school, now presently the manager of this salon’s boutique. Of course, I am and will always be Mom’s daughter. I have to pinch myself often as lucky as I have been in my life. I let out a big sigh, a BFF and a loving Mother, what more can a girl ask for? Don’t answer that, I am working on my list of must haves right now. A new life, a new gender, and lots of love. I am truly blessed. The best part is being able to be called Daughter of Mine by my Mother.
Story Complete For Now
© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker