I was very apprehensive when I called my sister Melissa since this is the third time I had asked her for money. She knew I was having a rough time of it, but also very good about not rubbing my nose in it. She had repeatedly tried to warn me about the choices I was making with regards to career, and apartments. Of course, she was right, but being the stubborn male that I am, I could never see it her way.
Now I am in trouble with the rent on my apartment, and my bank account is approaching zero. She suggested that we meet for lunch at Connie’s Sub shop, a place we have been eating at for years at Eleven A.M. tomorrow. She would bring the money I needed but first she wanted to talk to me about my finances. I told her that I understood her concern since I had been making some really stupid moves with them.
I thought about our conversation after we hung up, and I realized that I should have listened to her all along. She had suggested that I take my training in Cosmetology while taking drama courses on the side. That way I would have a career to go to if acting did not work out for me, but stupid me could only see an acting career in my future. Plus the fact I just could not see myself doing hair and makeup, something way below my station in life. Yep, way too big a head to get through most door frames.
My high school drama teacher had managed to get me a scholarship at Florida State University’s Theatre of the Arts, and I had convinced myself that my only chance at a successful career is in acting. I was very wrong, since, after four years of college with a 3.8-grade average, I had not even managed to get an audition for a role.
Although I had taken four years of drama, I never got on to the stage even once, always relegated to working behind the scenes to put on the many productions that the school produced. In fact, once they found out that I could sew, courtesy of my mother’s training, that is pretty much all I did. I designed most of the costumes, and actually sewed them since there is usually a tight budget to conform to and only a couple of other persons capable of doing the work. I never considered the fact that drama might not pay my way through life, many times I could have changed majors or taken some other classes that might help in getting a job. Let’s face it how many college graduates have a degree in drama, in my graduating class; there was only two, with me being one of them.
After graduation, I had high hopes, but it turned out that I am too tall and too plump to be considered for most male parts. I even spent three weeks in Hollywood trying to get anyone to give me a chance. The answer is always the same; you are not what we are looking for in an actor. Instead of facing reality, getting an entry level job in another field and try to work my way up, I persisted in my career choice even when time after time I had to come to Melissa to borrow some money to make ends meet.
I tried the first time to ask my parents about loaning me some money, but my father refused to help me. He also had told me acting (drama) was the wrong choice, and if it had not been for the scholarship, I would not have been able to attend college. He had refused me money to go to college unless I changed majors, and when I asked them for a loan after college, his opinion was the same.
Mom managed to slip me some money from time to time, but it was always behind Dad’s back. Later in college Melissa was able to help me some since she had completed her cosmetology degree, and managed to open her own salon. She is doing quite well and has a large following in her business. In fact, she is planning on opening a separate nail salon next to her beauty salon.
Our parents co-signed her loan for her beauty salon initially, but she managed to pay that off in less than six months. I am there no good for nothing son, and she is the can’t do anything wrong daughter. In fact, my other sister, Mary, is also doing quite well engaged to marry an attorney in a couple of months. She trained to be a paralegal and got a job in his office and after a year working for him, she accepted his offer of marriage.
In fact, she is running a business of paralegals doing prep work for attorneys, thanks to her fiance setting it up, but with Mary’s managerial skills I am forever doomed to be the black sheep of the family, a position, I admitted to having earned by myself.
The next morning I am up before eight and took the time to clean the apartment. The apartment is nice but way over my budget. The apartment has two bedrooms, a living room, two baths, and an eat in kitchen. I had decorated it nice before I came to the realization that I did not have the money to sustain living there. It is close to Melissa’s beauty salon but way too big for only one person to occupy. I hardly used the extra space, one bedroom, and a bath never has been used.
I guess my brain was totally disconnected from my body when I arranged for the apartment. I am now sure that my ego and grand fantasy dreams had a major part to play in the decision. There again, Melissa had warned me to move in with her till I saw if things were going to work out. Now three months had passed by, and I was out almost five thousand dollars in deposits, rent, and furnishings for the apartment. Three thousand I had borrowed from Melissa and I had only managed to pay her back four hundred of it. That was only possible due to a refund on my college dorm room.
I dressed as nice as I could wearing a pair of chinos and a sweater with a pair of loafers on my feet. My hair is neat but almost to my shoulders, another trait necessary to become an actor, in my opinion. Anybody being a little realistic could figure out that long hair might be suitable for a female role, but for a male role no way. I arrived at Connie’s just before eleven and Melissa is already there. She waved to me, and I made my way across the shop stopping only to get us a couple of drinks. She is glad to see me, with a hug proving that sincerity. She knows that I am uptight about borrowing more money from her. To her credit she is always nice to me, never rubbing my mistakes in my face. We talked about them, but she always relents and lets me make my own choices, knowing I have yet to learn my lesson.
We talked about Mom and Dad catching me up on some of the goings-on. Since I am uncomfortable around my father, I rarely visited them figuring that any visit would end up with harsh words. I asked how her salon is coming along, and she told me she had signed the lease on the space next to her salon in the shopping center to house her nail salon. Obviously, she is excited about the addition to her salon.
She said her salon business is booming, and she now had five beauticians beside herself working in the salon. With the new addition, she would be able to move her two manicurists next door and hire two more manicurists and two more beauticians. I am really proud of her and told her that. She is a good businesswoman and took baby steps until she got her business off the ground. I wished I had taken her advice four years ago, and maybe I would be sharing in her success.
She took one of my hands and looked me in the eyes and asked me what I am going to do with my life now that the acting career seemed to be out of the picture. I told her that I had no plans but knew that I would have to find an entry level job or any job to start putting my life back together. She smiled and told me she might have an idea for me to consider.
I jumped the gun and told her that whatever it is I would do it. I admitted that I had wasted too much time and money on a dream, and now I had to do something and real soon. She smiled and handed me some money to get our subs and told me she would tell me what I had to do when I got back. By now the restaurant is beginning to get crowded, and I had to wait ten minutes for our subs.
During that time, I noticed Melissa talking to several ladies, presumably customers, and probably about their hair or nails. Of course, no one even knew that I existed in this town since I interacted with very few people. I picked up the subs and headed back to the table. Another lady had stopped to talk to Melissa, and I had to wait a few seconds for them to finish. I finally sat down and slid her sub over to her.
She asked me what I was paying on my apartment and if more than one person could live there. I told her six hundred dollars and a little change a month. After thinking for a minute or two, the little change was twenty-seven dollars. The lease is open-ended for up to three adults, and there are no other stipulations that I could remember. The electric and water are included in the rent, and there are two parking spaces assigned to the apartment. I asked why she is interested in the apartment, and she told me she would cover that in a minute or two.
She told me now that I am aware of my mistakes at least financially I needed to take immediate action to bring my spending under control. This would involve changing living quarters or getting roommates. I started to tell her that I didn’t want to share the apartment with a roommate, and she told me to quiet down and listen to the plan first.
“Since the apartment is closer to the salon than her apartment, she would take over my apartment, and since I needed to cut expenses, drastically she wanted me to move in with her. Since I had badly damaged my creditably with the landlord she would take over the lease, thus relieving my financial burden. We would share the expenses, food, and the cooking duties but part of my new responsibilities was to keep the apartment clean and do the laundry.”
She is aware that Mom had taught me well in those endeavors and that I could handle them easily. I agreed knowing that Melissa is right on all counts and very grateful for her saving my derriere. She would come home with me and arrange to take over the lease on the apartment thus solving one major problem of mine. Her apartment is a month to month, and she would have no trouble moving out after thirty days’ notice.
She asked if I still had all the furnishings, and I replied yes, what would I do with them. She thought that I might have sold some of them off to get some cash. I blushed a pretty shade of pink since I had not even thought that I could sell them to get some cash. She grinned ear to ear knowing I am truly embarrassed by not using any of my cranial matter in this regard. Her only comment is that I must be a natural blonde through and through.
I asked her where I might apply for a job, trying to beat her to the punch on the job front. She said that I have one including free training if I will take it. I pounced upon that wanting to know where at. I told her I could be at their place of business first thing tomorrow morning to apply or sign up, whatever is needed. She said that she would hire me to do nails and give me all the training that is necessary. The pay would be ten dollars an hour or forty percent of my intake for the salon.
I told her that I would not be good at that and she ought to find someone that will be able to do the job. I thought to myself that she was just hiring me to give me some income so I wouldn’t feel so helpless or destitute. Melissa told me she was not doing me any favors since I would have to do the same as all the other girls both in my training and also in my work. She told me she is a qualified instructor in nail care, and I could do manicures, pedicures, and artificial nails under her supervision.
I asked her if she thought I could do this, and she said if I could design and sew costumes for the theater I could learn to do nails. She could really use the help later after the new nail salon opens, and she always felt a deeper connection with me than brother and sister. I almost cried at that point since she had solved most of my problems or, at least, made an inroad towards that goal.
She warned me that there would be a few bumps along the road, namely having to practice my skills mainly on myself while I learned the trade. I looked over at her with a puzzled look on my face. Surely it couldn’t be that hard since I would just apply the polish and then later when I was ready to go home just to remove the polish. She answered me without me having to put those thoughts into words. To learn to do artificial nails, I would have to practice applying them and then applying polish.
Since artificial nails last a long time before they can be easily removed, that would require me to wear them 24/7 for several weeks. With the advent of gel nail polish and UV lights to set the polish, removing the polish is no longer a simple task. Finally, the light came on in my head, and I realized that I would be living my life away from the salon with long, beautiful, highly polished nails.
I thought about this for several minutes and asked her how other students handled this problem. She smiled and told me most were women, and long polished nails are normal for the fairer sex. I told her I could just hibernate in the apartment when not at the salon, but she didn’t seem to like that idea. It was quiet for several minutes, we had finished our subs and were cleaning up our mess on the table. Unlike most of the sub shops customers, we did not like to leave the table in a mess when we finish. We picked up our trash and headed for the parking lot after using the trash container at the door.
Connie, who we had known for several years, thanked us and told us to come back soon. When we got to Melissa’s car, she is looking around for where I had parked my car. I turned red in the face, this time, replying in a low voice that I had no gas left in it. She opened the car door for me, and we headed over to my apartment. I took her to the landlords, and she quickly explained the situation, and he rewrote the lease, and she paid six month’s rent in advance. The smile on his face couldn’t get much bigger.
We then went up to the apartment and Melissa looked it over from one end to the other. She thought everything would work out okay but said that we would have to buy a couple of armoires to add to the bedrooms to give us sufficient space for our clothes. I did not have that many clothes but remained silent since Melissa is already doing so much for me that I felt so guilty about.
We adjourned to the living room after I had got us a couple of diet cokes to sip on. She wanted to know what I thought about the job and training. I was ecstatic about having a job but am apprehensive about my ability to perform the procedures. Melissa said there was another option on how to handle the obviously feminine nails on a male persona. I hesitated, but an utterly obscure idea began to materialize in my mind. I thought I had correctly guessed what idea she is preparing to launch upon me but between my anxiety and her extraordinary smile I could not utter any words.
That smile of hers simply means I have you where I want you and to resist is futile. She suggested that to handle the nails and the polish problem the best approach is just to dress and live as a female. I started to shake a little and Melissa hugged me and held me for several minutes. As she pushed me out to arm’s length, she reminded me of when we used to play dress up, and I was always the girl. Stupidly I told her that I had no women’s clothes, but she told me to borrow some of hers until I could sew my own.
My next question is what will Mom and Dad say about this. Her answer is Mom already knows about my idea, and she is totally for it, with Dad you couldn’t make things any worse than you have, and Mom will work on him for us. Melissa suggested that I stop making each obstacle into a roadblock and start embracing the idea. You will have a career and a way to support yourself and will be able to finally use your acting skills in a positive way.
We talked a while more, but I couldn’t convince myself that I could do the work or pull off the disguise. Melissa suggested that we go to her apartment, and she would allow me to experience both and then decide what I am going to do. I agreed, and we picked out a change of clothes, and a pair of pajamas for me since she had mentioned that it would take a few hours to try things out. I was a little apprehensive about all of this but knew that things could not stay the same; several things had to change and soon.
I was quiet on the ride over to Melissa’s place embarrassed at getting myself into this situation and unsure of whether I could live like a woman 24/7. The ride is about forty minutes in duration since Melissa had gotten her apartment before she decided to open the salon. My apartment would be much closer and more convenient for her. When we reached her apartment, she showed me where to put my things and told me to meet her in her bedroom, and we would start.
I took the opportunity to use the bathroom and after finishing looked at my reflection, in the mirror, for quite some time. I am not the typical male in appearance, looking more like a male model modeling feminine clothes. I am almost five feet nine inches tall and weighed about one hundred thirty pounds, but without broad shoulders and masculine features in my face, I did not look masculine. My slightly wider than usual hips and my longer hair added to the illusion. I am sure Melissa could make me look like a woman, but that terrified me for some reason.
Melissa called through the door for me to quit looking at my reflection and get out here. She was always able to discern what I am doing and what I was up to since we were little kids. I walked out and headed to her bedroom feeling that I was on my way to death row. She had me sit at her vanity, and she took one of my hands to look it over. She complimented me on maintaining my nails and started showing me the items she had laid out on the vanity.
She picked up a bottle of base coat and showed me how to apply it on one of her nails. She made it look so easy, but she insisted that I, now, do my nails. I had to redo my first nail since I was shaking so bad that I got more on my skin than I did on the nail. She suggested that I rest the palm of my hand on the vanity and just use my fingers to maneuver the brush. That worked much better and in about fifteen minutes I had finished with the base coat.
As I held my hands out to admire the polish the shine is very obvious. While we waited for the polish to dry, Melissa remarked that I looked at my hands as a woman did with my palms down and fingers outstretched. Guys look at their nails by making a fist and holding their hands with the palms up, fingers bent. Before I could think up a response, Melissa handed me the nest bottle of polish. It is a light pink in color, and after I had applied a coat to my first nail, I noticed that it had swirls of Burgundy intermixed.
The nail polish seemed just to flow on, and I was surprised at how good it looked. I noticed the smile on Melissa’s face and figured that I am doing pretty good. After I had finished all ten fingers, she moved a light over to the middle of the vanity and turned it on. She told me to hold my hands under the light until the polish is dry. While I did that she told me, I am a natural for a manicurist. I blushed a bright shade of pink, similar to the color of the polish I had just applied and responded that being a manicurist is not a profession for a male.
Melissa turned a lighted makeup mirror on and told me to tell her what I saw in the mirror. I knew what Melissa is wanting to hear from me, but I replied with the standard dumb blonde answer, I see me in the mirror. Melissa got that Cheshire cat grin on her face replying that, yes, she also saw that dumb blonde look, that very female dumb blonde look.
When my nails were dry, she handed me a bottle of nail polish remover and told me to remove the polish. She placed a few cotton balls in my hand and told me to soak them in the remover and then remove the polish. I put the remover on the cotton balls and rubbed the ball over the polished nail. Nothing was happening so I rubbed a little harder, even adding more remover to the cotton balls.
Melissa was chuckling now and welcomed me to the sisterhood. I was starting to panic and almost screamed at Melissa to tell me how to get the polish off. The polish is the new gel type, not coming off without soaking it off.
She just smiled and told me that we were not done experimenting yet. She shifted her chair a little more in front of me and started digging out some cosmetics. I wanted to protest but knew that Melissa is going to pursue this until I agreed, or it is determined that I would not pass as a female. So I let out a big sigh and allowed Melissa to start on my makeup. She applied a dark brown mascara to my lashes, at least, three coats and then used a black eyeliner on my eyelids.
I knew I was doomed when the image in the mirror is now undeniably a female. She continued with a pink blush, actually a Burgundy pink blush according to Melissa, and then a Burgundy lipstick. Actually, I should point out that my lips were lined with a dark Burgundy liner before the lipstick is applied. She told me to use the bathroom if I needed because we were going out to dinner, her treat. I got up from the vanity shaking my head and stepped several steps away from her. There is no way I could go out like this.
Everybody would be able to see that I was a male and make fun of me. Suddenly those memories of college came back to me where I was constantly teased about my gender. I am still called miss even now at times, but I was not going to add more fuel to Melissa’s fire. She grabbed my hands and looked at me, staring into my eyes, telling me that no one will realize that you are a male. I protested, but she held up her hand to silence me.
She told me that she would make a bet with me. If anyone suggested that I am a male while we had dinner or at the mall while we window shopped, she would give up on her plan. If, however, that no one saw me as anything other than as a female she expected me to agree to her plan in its entirety. I had my reservations about this but, I knew my sister, this is the only way that I would be able to avoid the plan. She wanted to have me wear the male clothes that I had on thinking that I am so feminine that it would make no difference in how people perceived me.
I went to the bathroom again, not wanting to risk a visit to the bathrooms at the restaurant or mall. I looked at the reflection in the mirror one last time and joined Melissa at the door. We went out to her car, and she opened the door for me and closed it after I had sat in the passenger seat. She came around to the driver’s side and sat down and swung her legs in. I blushed again, knowing that I had set in the seat the same way just a few seconds ago.
I wonder where that feminine gesture came from. I did not remember watching how women entered the car, much less practiced the maneuver. Melissa smiled with that look again letting me know that she had witnessed the maneuver and how I had pulled it off. Very good Michelle, I am glad you are accepting of all of this and blending in. I gave her a dirty look but knew she had won the first step.
When we got to the restaurant, I was terrified to get out of the car. Melissa had to come over and open my door and extract me from my seat. With her hand in the middle of my back, she steered me towards the front entrance. We were greeted by one of the restaurant valets who held the door open for us, greeting us as ladies. The Maitre’D in the lobby asked how many in our party and then asked us to follow him.
He held the chairs for us as we sat, and yes I smoothed my imaginary skirt before I sat down. Melissa got such a kick out of my gesture. The waiters referred to us as ladies, and I heard the word ma’am all evening long. Our food and drink order is taken by the waiter, and after his departure, Melissa almost broke out laughing. I am obviously perceived to be female, and this tickled Melissa to no end. Her comment is even with a flat chest, no hips and masculine clothes everybody sees you as a woman. No one has even doubted as to what gender you are, a male or a female. Looking at you now, I only see a woman, my sister, Michelle.
During dinner, nothing out of the ordinary happened, and Melissa used the time to fill me in on what to expect in the training to be a manicurist. She told me what textbook knowledge I would have to learn. It is basically anatomy of the hands, arms, legs and feet. Throw in some basic knowledge about skin, nails, and the surrounding muscles and you have it. She would furnish me with a textbook tomorrow, and I should read and study it in my time away from the salon.
I tried to slow down her preparations for me becoming a manicurist by telling her that I could still be exposed at the mall, but Melissa’s smile told me she did not believe that for a minute. Nobody would see anything but a young woman, and she is looking at her new manicurist, Michelle, I knew in my heart that she is right and sighed having fallen into her trap so easily.
After we had finished dinner, we adjourned to the mall. She parked at the opposite end from where she had told me she wanted to shop at, knowing we would have to walk the entire mall to get there. I knew she was prolonging my time as Michelle on purpose. We walked from one end to the other, obviously taking her time, gazing at the store windows as we made our way to the other end. Her comments were at my expense as she asked me if I liked a certain dress, or if I wanted to buy that outfit before it is sold out. In one store, she even talked me into trying on a dress in the changing room. Believe me, I was very reluctant, but she implied that if I didn’t try it on she would expose me to the sales assistant. It was with a great deal of apprehension that she managed to get me into the dress. Thankfully she left it at that, and I put my male clothes back on and left.
Twice a couple of Melissa’s customers stopped to talk to her and to my utter shock Melissa introduced me to the ladies as her sister, Michelle. No recognition from the ladies as to my true gender and Melissa’s smile just grew knowing that everybody perceived me as a woman. We approached the anchor store that Melissa had said she wanted to shop at, and suddenly she darted into a store dragging me behind her. It was an upscale shoe store, and Melissa found a display of heels that interested her. She apparently found two pairs that she liked and found a sales associate to fetch the shoe in her size. We found a couple of seats to sit in waiting for her to return.
Melissa startled me by telling me to remove my shoes and socks. I hesitated, but when Melissa started grabbing for my shoes, I complied. She gave me a pair of footies as she called them and told me to slip them on my feet. The sales associate finally made her return and removed one of the shoes for me to try on. I looked over at Melissa, but she nodded for me to try on the shoe. It was different to slip on the heel, but it fit perfectly. The other shoe was handed to me, and I slipped it on and then stood to see if I could even stand in them.
Surprisingly I did not have any difficulty and Melissa asked me to walk to the other side of the store and back. As I made my way back, the smile she had on her face made it apparent that I am now the proud owner of a black patent pump with a four-inch stiletto heel. The associate had left us briefly to ring up another customer, and Melissa wanted to know how I had learned to walk so well in heels. Other than our dress up games when we were in grade school, I had never worn any women’s shoes much less a pair of heels.
Melissa was skeptical of my answer, remarking that most runway models do not handle heels as well as you do. The second shoe for me to try on was a white Mary Jane style with a three-inch block heel. After the stilettos, these were no problem except they were a little tight, and I had to get a half size larger. I guess the arch of my foot in the heels should have bothered me, but both pairs really felt good after the initial moment or two.
I noticed walking in the heels that I took shorter steps and placed one foot in front of the other as I walked. She had me walk to the other side of the store again with the second pair even though I tried to get her to relent. Her persuasion was greater than my resistance. I frowned at her when I returned because there was two other pair of shoes there now, and the sales associate was packing up the shoes I wore when we arrived.
I guess I am wearing the heels home. I tried the two other pair of shoes on, one a match to the stiletto but in beige and the other a match to the Mary Jane but in black suede. Melissa told the sales associate we would take them all and I would wear the black Mary Janes. As we got up to leave, I was trying to talk Melissa out of buying them. Her reply was that if I could have seen how I looked walking in the heels, I would never wear anything but them.
Besides you need to get used to wearing them so, your legs will look nice for all the guys. That was a sobering thought, and I suddenly was very quiet. She knew that I was shocked after her comment but reassured me that dressing like a woman, particularly nails and heels, is going to attract attention from the male sector. You don’t have to go on dates with them, but they will try their best to gain your attention.
Melissa was faster in heels than I was, and she stopped by a kiosk to wait for me to catch up. She was still looking behind me as I caught up with her. I turned around to see who she was looking at, and she told me to look by the stairs at the three young men standing there. When my eyes met theirs they turned away real fast not wanting to be seen ogling me.
I looked over at Melissa, and she confirmed it had started, and with the way I was walking in the heels there would be much more before we got to the other end of the mall. My face blushed at that comment; I must have been deep red knowing my male self is turning on other young men. It is another nail in my coffin since Melissa is right, and I would have to buy into the plan.
I guess life as a manicurist is not that bad, and at least, it is a means of supporting myself since my acting had not done anything for my livelihood. I managed to get to her car without further embarrassment, and we rode in silence to her apartment. I knew everyone saw me as a woman but still couldn’t make myself believe that fact. It almost brought tears to my eyes, I have never cried before, but this is overwhelming my brain.
Melissa was aware that I was trying to make some sense of what happened. She showed me how to remove my makeup and then gave me a nightie to change into. After I had changed into the nightie, I headed to the living room to sleep on the couch. That had been where I slept in the past when I stayed at Melissa’s. It is quite comfortable, and I was looking forward to a night’s rest.
Melissa usually makes up the couch for me, but the couch was still a couch. I went to find her so I could ask her where she kept the sheets, eventually finding her in the kitchen. She handed me a cup of hot chocolate dragging me to her bedroom. She patted the bed next to her, and I joined her sipping on the chocolate. She wanted me to sleep with her so we could cuddle like we used to so many years ago.
After we had finished the hot chocolate, we slipped under the covers and with Melissa trying to talk to me I apparently fell asleep. I remember tossing and turning quite a bit through the night but also looking at the image in the mirror every time I went to the bathroom. Every time the image was of a woman even though I had no makeup on. Of course, when I raised my hand up to my face I saw the beautiful nails, only worn by a woman.
My mind was trying to put some kind of logic to all of this, twenty-two years as a male and now looking and starting to feel like a female. Smoothing my skirt when it was not there and walking in heels without effort were just a couple of things that were bothering me. When dreaming I was a woman, it felt good and at that point, my mind did not want to remember any more.
I awoke early the next morning and tried to make breakfast for Melissa and me. I found a melon, some juice, and of course, made a pot of coffee for us. I guess the smell of the coffee brewing woke Melissa, but she greeted me with Good Morning Michelle and a hug, plus a kiss on the cheek. She thanked me for putting together breakfast and wanted to know if I was ready.
I asked ready for what, and she responded womanhood. I swallowed hard like I was trying to prepare myself to handle something unpleasant but nodded in the affirmative. We worked together on the dishes and putting the unused food back in the refrigerator. I was led, almost dragged to her bedroom where she started looking through her closet for clothes for me.
After looking in a chest of drawers for underwear, she handed me a pink bikini panty, a pink demi-cup bra, and a beige camisole. I was removing my nightie as Melissa ran her hands over my chest and leg. She remarked that I had very little body hair to deal with, and that will make things a lot easier to handle. I pulled the panties up over my hips and Melissa helped me clasp the bra, and then reached in the cups to pull my excess flesh more into the cup.
I suddenly had some cleavage. The camisole slid over my arms and settled on my shoulders. Putting on the underwear gave the feeling of Deja vu, everything feeling so natural like I had been wearing them my entire life. Melissa handed me a box and told me to put them in the cups; two realistic breast forms looked up at me from the box, and they jiggled in my hands as I put one in each cup. They were more of the filet type that helps push whatever excess fatty tissue up and forward. Now the cups of the bra were filled completely. Suddenly I had a figure; they looked so natural, and I am delighted as they wiggle every time I moved my body.
Melissa had picked a pair of jeans and a pink long sleeve sweater with some embroidery on the front right above the breast. The jeans were stretch, and I do mean stretch. Melissa had me laying on the bed to get the jeans on, and it took us several tries to get the button in the hole and the zipper up. They hugged every curve and bump on my body, with me being afraid to bend over lest I rip the inseam out.
I was puzzled that my male apparatus was not to be seen. Usually, even the thought of lingerie and he would be standing at attention, today not even a hiccup. The sweater is next, and that also fit quite snugly, showing off my assets. I could see the nipples on the partial forms clearly through the sweater. My black stiletto heels were the shoe she selected for me, and they felt surprisingly comfortable and really accented my legs and derriere. A pair of knee highs helped to make the shoe slip easily on my foot.
The last clothing accessory item handed me was a black purse. Melissa had already put my wallet in it and a few other necessities for a woman. I was expecting some help on my hair and makeup, but Melissa said that would be handled at the salon. We put the straps for the purses over our shoulders and headed to the car.
We made the drive to the salon and even though we were early several of her cosmetologists were already there. I was introduced to everybody as Michelle and then Cheri, one of her better hairdressers, led me over to the sinks. She washed my hair, putting several applications of shampoo and then conditioner on my hair. It was so relaxing that I dozed off, being awakened as she was finished and needed me to move over to her station.
She combed the tangles out of my hair and started sectioning my hair and then adding a clip to keep it there. She then undid each section and cut my hair. It was obvious that she was layering it and trimming off the damaged ends. I asked what style she was giving me, and her response surprised me. She was correcting the abuse that had been doled out in years past so that they could put extensions in my hair.
Then they would help me pick a style and cut my hair again to fit that style. It took her about fifteen minutes to get through all of the sections. She said that the next part is quite time-consuming and that now was the time to use the bathroom if needed. She pointed out the location to me and then went to the back to get a drink for both of us. After I had returned, she placed the cape around my shoulders and started adding long lengths of hair to my own.
The color was almost a perfect match although in mass it appeared to be a little lighter. I was watching very closely in the mirror as she worked through my hair. Cheri asked if I was going to be learning to be a manicurist, and I told her that was the plan. She liked the color that was presently on my nails and asked if I knew the name of it. I didn’t, but Melissa was working on a customer a couple of stations over, and she told Cheri that it was called Love Your Life.
I looked over at Melissa, and she just smiled. As Cheri was about halfway through my hair adding the extensions, Melissa came over pushing the manicurist’s station with her. It had all the implements necessary to do a manicure on it and a rack of different nail polishes above it on a different shelf. Melissa sat in a chair and took one of my hands and placed it in a bowl of acetone.
This will soak off your nail polish so that we can redo your nails. She wanted to make sure I was paying attention because she wanted me to do this same procedure for myself in the next few days. After she had got the old nail polish off of both hands, she worked on my cuticles and then roughed up the surface on my nails with a file.
She reached for a tray of nail extensions and started picking out ones that would fit each finger. When she had ten extensions laying on the table, she started applying glue to each fingernail. She made sure that she had an even coat on the nail surface and then she applied the extension. The extension came about a 3/4 inch past my finger, and I almost panicked since I had heard quite a few women comment about trying to do things with long nails.
Melissa explained that it was hard to convince women to get nail extensions when the manicurist has short stubby nails. The reason we are doing this now is so you can get used to the longer nails. It is easy to work with the longer nails once you get accustomed to them. Melissa’s was even longer than the ones she was putting on me, and if she can handle them, then she was sure that I could handle mine.
The longer hair is being done for the same reason. If all the cosmetologists had short hair, it would certainly curtail business. A woman tends to feel most comfortable with a stylist that looks feminine and beautiful. If you go to the cosmetic counter and the artist has no makeup on you feel that it would be difficult for her to do a good job of makeup on you.
I could see the reasoning in this, but this was going to take some time to get used to. Once Melissa finished applying the nail extensions, she picked out a shade of nail color and handed me the bottle. When Cheri finishes, I want you to apply the polish to your nails using long slow strokes to paint each nail. She showed me on her hand since the polish she handed me was the same as she had on her nails.
I acknowledged her and waited as Cheri finished the hair extensions. It was another thirty minutes when she finally finished adding the longer pieces of hair. She took a few minutes to brush the few tangles from the hair, and I watched in amazement the difference in how I looked. No longer was I the short haired female wanna-be, but I was truly a beautiful and sexy looking woman. Cheri said she would take a short break as I painted my nails; then she would be back to help me pick out a style.
I picked up the bottle that Melissa had given me and looked at the name on the bottle. It said Big Hair Big Nails and was described as a rosy pageant peach. Cheri came back with another Diet Coke and what looked like a hand. She handed it to me and told me to practice on this before I do my own nails.
It took me a minute or two to figure out how to hold the brush after I spent a good five minutes getting the lid off the polish. By adding the extension to my nail, it changed how I did everything. When Melissa had me put on the polish at her apartment, it seemed so much easier and fluid. This was awkward and frustrating.
After doing the nails on the practice hand that Cheri had brought me, I finally seemed to get the hang of it. Although very slowly at first I managed to get my ten nails done and held out my hands palm down, and fingers splayed so they could dry. I asked Cheri if this polish needed the UV light, and she replied no this was not a gel lacquer.
With my nails drying Cheri looked through one of the hair styling books and would point out a picture of a style that she thought would look good on me. We decided on a bouffant style with a lot of curls. Cheri told me the more feminine I am, the more tips I would likely get as a manicurist. That worried me a bit since it looked like I was going to be very feminine. I wasn’t worried about the money part, but the femininity part concerned me.
They would not give me a permanent at this time so the style would need to be created with curlers each time I did it. Besides, you need the practice in setting your hair and combing it out. That last statement should have bothered me. A male, or at least one who used to be a male, practicing setting his hair and styling it. I don’t think that would have been regarded as a masculine pursuit or desire, but somehow, the idea of practicing setting and styling my hair is appealing.
Cheri sectioned my hair again, although each section obviously held so much more hair. She started cutting again but was mainly cutting the part of the extensions that would not be needed. It didn’t seem to take as long as last time, even though Cheri was cutting about three inches from my hair.
Since the extensions were originally fifteen inches long, I now had hair with at least twelve inches more in length. The style still utilized a slightly layered look, but with the slightest color difference between my hair and the extensions, it looked like my hair had been frosted, a word I became familiar with, since Melissa always had her hair frosted. To me, “frosted” hair really accents a person’s femininity.
As Cheri finished cutting my hair, she reached for a spray bottle of setting gel and heavily saturated each section. Then using a comb, she carefully separated each of these hair sections into several smaller sections, wrapping each one around a magnetic roller. The rollers were of different sizes and were being secured by metal clips.
Glancing in the mirror, I quietly chuckled several times, as my head seemed larger than life with all these rollers and clips attached. Looking around the busy shop, I noticed that very few women had any curlers or rollers in their hair. I mentioned this to Cheri, and her reply was that most of today’s styles did not require a hair set to hold that hairstyle. A perm wave to give body to the hair and then a blow dryer for larger curls or a curling iron for smaller curls was all that was needed to achieve a beautiful hairstyle.
I looked a little puzzled at Cheri and wanted to know why I was getting the curlers. Apparently, Melissa was trying to help a trend that started back east in the theaters and shows around New York City, to get a foothold here. It was more of a retro-look, where women wore their hair in a curlier styling, almost “Big Hair.”
I remembered the name of the nail polish that I was wearing, and could see where this was all headed. Melissa wanted her cosmetologists to start doing their own hair in these trendy styles so that more women would try to copy this new retro “look”. The retro-style was more high maintenance and would be better for increasing business.
Since I was the newest and most qualified for this stylish look, I would get the chance to model her creation. I guess, sometimes, everything seems just to go against you. I had come to Melissa to borrow some money, and now I received a whole new way of living in return. It felt right most of the time, but there were moments; I was scared to death. I guess the part of being all new to me was the scariest part, but once done, things just fell into place, seemed normal, or whatever descriptive term you wanted to use.
When Cheri finally finished with the magnetic rollers, she moved an upright hair dryer on wheels over behind the styling chair where I was seated. She lowered the drying unit over my hair in curlers and turned it on. The warm, almost hot, air felt so comforting and relaxing. Although Cheri handed me a magazine to browse, Cosmopolitan of all she could have chosen from, I was soon dozing off with the warmth of the circulating air and the low humming of the blower.
Cheri gently woke me from my dream, and for that, I was thankful. The last article that I was looking at was exactly what I was fantasizing. That particular article was “How to Dress to Maximize Your Bust”. In my dreams, I had large breasts and was being told by someone that I should get a job at Hooters.
Cheri helped me up from the chair and told me to take advantage of the respite to use the powder room before she finished by hairstyle. I proceeded to the Ladies Room thinking, after entering, where else could I go.
Upon returning, Cheri had my color nail polish laid out along with a clear bottle of top coat polish. She explained that Melissa had previously put on a base coat after applying my nail extensions, which protects the nail itself. Cheri instructed me to apply two more coats of color polish and then the glossy top coat. I looked at my nails, trying to imagine how they could have any more color or high gloss than they had now.
I fought again with the cap to the polish but finally was able to remove it. The second and third coat of color seemed to glide on effortlessly, and I did see a significant deepening of the color. Cheri interrupted my task by removing all of my curlers but then stopped to allow me to apply the last coat, a glossy topcoat. I glanced up to look at myself in the mirror, and each curl was firm as if the curler was still there. A definite feminine look if not a slightly humorous image was presented.
The glossy top coat was definitely that, leaving my nails looking as if they were shining like a diamond. The nails were obviously living up to their name. The company named this color Big Hair, Big Nails, and it was making my nails look bigger causing my hands to look slimmer and delicate. The long oval additions were feminine and would only be found on a young woman.
About this time Melissa came over to inspect my attempts at manicuring. Judging from the instant smile that appeared on her face, she was pleased with my efforts. Since she was caught up with her customers until her next customer showed up, she sat in the next stylist’s chair and watched as Cheri started to brush out my curls.
I asked her why she was not doing my hair since she was so enthusiastic about me dressing like a girl. She said Cheri is the expert on retro styles, while I do more of the blow dryer, curling iron styles. However, all of us are watching Cheri do your hair so we can learn to do the same type of style. I tried to tell her that this was a bit much for me, but I do enjoy the pampering. That thought makes you an honorary member of the female sex. Cheri said not honorary, but a born to the sex member when I finish with her hair. No way will she ever look less than 100 % female.
Melissa assured me that learning to be a manicurist would not take long since I was a natural at it. She thought my nails looked fabulous and was wondering if I was getting used to them yet. The length is the toughest part of adjusting to, especially when trying to go to the bathroom, as it takes twice as long to maneuver through the clothes.
It took Cheri another thirty minutes to get my hair the way she wanted it, but as I was watching her finish, I had never seen this style on any women I had come into contact with. Feminine, big, and curls all over the place making my hair look twice as large as before.
Once Cheri pronounced me done Melissa suggested that I accompany them to lunch. They frequented a cafe down the street a couple of blocks that offered a good selection of salads and fairly fast service. I was a little hesitant to go since I was still concerned about my appearance especially since I was even more conspicuous in my nails and hair.
I was handed my purse and told to apply some lipstick, I lined my lips with the tube and then blotted the excess with a tissue. Melissa and Cheri were both giggling as they guided me out the front door. When I had gotten out my lipstick, I also realized that my purse contained some other cosmetics, a wallet, a hair brush, a comb, and to my embarrassment a tampon.
Now I was giggling to myself, never thinking that I would be carrying a purse much less a tampon. At least I would be ready for anything that might come up. I hoped that the contents of my purse were just to make it look like a real women’s purse.
We walked side by side the two blocks to the restaurant. I was aware of the sound of my heels on the sidewalk, and suddenly I was not even aware that I had four-inch heels on. It just felt normal in the heels, both Cheri and Melissa noticed and made comments.
The restaurant was already busy, but Melissa had made reservations before we left. The hostess said that our table was ready, and we followed her to a table near the front windows. The table was in an alcove and was quieter and more private. The adjoining tables were occupied already and the table the hostess showed us to, had another lady already seated.
The lady was facing away from us towards the window, and as I came up to the table, I recognized the lady. Mom was smiling and quickly rose and gave me the biggest hug I had ever received. To say I was surprised was an understatement and Cheri had to grab my arm for support since I was all of a sudden feeling very faint and woozy. To be seen like this by my Mother was quite nerve-wracking, for I was still her son, even though there was no resemblance to her Melvin.
She told me that I was very beautiful and pretty and most definitely her daughter Michelle now. I even got a little kiss on the cheek, even though a tear or two was cascading down my cheek at the time. I was still crying as Cheri helped me to my seat next to my Mother. I stared at Melissa, if looks could kill you would be dead, but she just broke out in laughter. That confused me a little more, and I cried a little louder. Finally, Mother took my hand and calmed me down.
She told me not to blame Melissa for her coming to lunch today because it was her idea. She could not bear to hear any more about my progress without being able to see her new daughter. She kept talking about how beautiful I was and that thankfully there was not one trace of Melvin left. Before I could react, for she saw the tears coming she told me that she loved Melvin with all of her heart and soul, but even she can tell that I was meant to be Michelle, not Melvin.
The waitress came to take our orders, with all of us getting salads. As she finished, she asked me where I had my hair done at. I told her of Melissa’s salon just down the street, and that Cheri was the stylist. She told me she would make an appointment on her next day off since she just loved my hair style.
Melissa told her that I was a new manicurist there, and I would love to do her nails for her. I smiled, and she told me that she could use a manicure too, at the same time. She just never found time to do her own nails since she had a family to take care of. Melissa promised her a discount rate for both hair and nails because we frequented the restaurant quite regularly.
Before I could say anything to Melissa, she told me you now have your first customer for manicuring and Cheri has a retro styling because you are out and about with the new style. We talked about Melissa’s salon quite a bit since Mother used to be a hairdresser. Mother was quite proud of Melissa’s success and was really glad that I had agreed to join Melissa in the salon.
Mother brought up Father, and I quickly turned around to see if somehow he was here. Mother patted my arm reassuring me that my Dad was not there. I took the opportunity to ask if Dad would tolerate me like this, and Mother replied not yet, but he soon would love his new daughter as much as he loved Melissa. I look puzzled, but Mother insisted that she would handle my Father when the time came. Besides you will make an adorable Daddy’s girl.
We finished our lunches and walked back to the salon together. Mother wanted to get a closer look at me in the brighter lights of the salon. She loved my nails, but my hair was just perfect in her opinion. She took the time to compliment Cheri and the fantastic style and told her that she wore her hair in a similar style when she was younger.
We set around the salon and talked for a while when suddenly the salon started to get busy again. Mother excused herself after giving me a hug and a kiss. Her parting words were I love my new daughter Michelle. For once in your life this really suits you.
Cheri had a comb out to do with a customer, so I just sat in the empty salon chair next to her station. I was trying to put a little perspective on all of this, but no revelations were revealed, all I knew was that everything just felt so natural and normal. When Cheri finished her comb out, she beckoned me back to her chair.
She announced that makeup was next. She grabbed a pair of tweezers and started working on my eyebrows. After pulling a few hairs, she put the tweezers down and started messing with a pot on her counter. She laid the back of her chair down and pulled my hair out of the way. Very quickly the hot wax is spread over my eyebrows, a cloth strip added and then yanked off. It hurt more from the surprise than from the actual hair being removed. When she sat the chair back up, the pencil-thin line of my eyebrows is faintly visible, and the arch of the eyebrows is quite noticeable.
She showed me how to apply and use all of the cosmetics I would need to perfect my look. She would apply, then have me remove it and do it myself. The biggest problem is the elegant nails, they restricted movement and made even the simplest maneuver awkward. I was getting used to them, every task getting easier to do than a few minutes ago. Cheri came and went as her customers showed up for their appointments. All the time she made me keep up with the makeup applications. In between customers she would appraise my efforts, tell me how to correct a problem, then had me remove the makeup and start again.
The afternoon seemed to fly by, and by quitting time I had mastered doing my own makeup. As Melissa and I left the salon we received hugs from Cheri, wanting me to be on time in the morning, I had my first appointment for a manicure, so being prompt is essential. I looked at her like she was crazy, the second day and I am already doing someone’s nails. All I received was a giggle. I worried about it all the way home, what if I foul up, or damage the nails. Finally Melissa eased my worries, Cheri wanted her nails done, extensions and all, good practice for me. Believe me I was still nervous about doing her nails.
When we got to her apartment, the first order of business was ditching our heels. I had always wore shoes of some kind in my apartment so I slipped on one of my other new pair of shoes. Melissa changed into some soft slippers. I was dragged to the kitchen, helping with dinner and dishes part of the deal from now on. The meal was just salads, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, cucumber, and some chicken morsels spread across the top. I chose a ranch type dressing, but not the usual type. This one was sweeter and had bits of green olives in it. I did the dishes, the long nails were inconvenient but not debilitating. I helped clean up, actually enjoying the task.
We talked for a while in the living room, after I do Cheri’s nails in the morning I will spend time with the textbook, now that I seemed to not be having problems doing nails, the book part was necessary so that I could get my license.
The next morning I managed to get Cheri’s nails almost perfect, just having to redo a couple of nails when the brush slipped out of my fingers. As soon as the manicure was completed I had to do my makeup, then was put in the office with the textbook. All of the remaining hours were spent reading and trying to learn the terms and names of all the bones, muscles essentially anything to do with the hands and feet of my prospective customers. After the salon slowed down I was quizzed by the other stylists and Melissa to make sure I was learning what I needed. I did miss a couple of things, but mostly I had managed to learn what was required.
A couple more days studying then Melissa took me to the Cosmetology Board to get my license. A test, then doing a task involving nail care is required. Melissa waited outside while I took the test, then while it was being graded we talked to the secretary of the board. I scored 98 out of 100 on the test, so that part was handled. The secretary looked at my nails, then for the practical part for me to take them all off, then reapply them this time using a longer extension. I looked at the workstation they had set-up then started removing my old nails. It took me the better part of an hour to do the required work, but when finished my nails were even better looking than when I came in. Personal opinion, but they shined, the deep red polish I used seemed to capture the light and reflect it back. The secretary issued the license, then asked if she could have an appointment with me at the end of the week for a set of extensions and polish to complete the manicure. Melissa called back to the salon, to find a time slot that she could live with, and we hugged then left.
I quizzed Melissa about calling back to the salon, I doubted I had even one appointment mush less enough to warrant checking when they were. It turns out that Cheryl was taking appointments for me since yesterday, I only had three spots left on Friday and Thursday was already full. I pinched myself, is this really happening. As soon as we got back to the salon I had an appointment waiting, and I stayed busy the rest of the day.
My last appointment left at a few minutes after five, I got a drink and plopped myself down in my chair. I looked at my schedule for today, after returning from the Cosmetology Board I had six appointments and took in almost two hundred dollars. I would get a percentage of that, but my tips were the amazing thing here. Sixty dollars in tips, in less than a half day of work.
I thought back to my days in college studying Drama and dreaming of a career in acting. What a waste, I loved my work now, making my customers nails beautiful. When I first dressed as Michelle maybe part of it was acting, but now the role was real, every morning looking forward to be that female, doing my work, then coming home to be with Sis and taking it easy for a while. When Sis coerced me into this job, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Michelle has now nailed a job in more than one way.
Story Complete For Now
© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker