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This is more of the journey I began in “Cross-Country”, which concluded when my mother and I arrived at my grandmother’s house in Bennington, VT. “Cross-Country: Skiing” covers the ways my life changed further at the end of that wonderful year—the year that I stopped being Anthony and started my life as Ann.

Cross-Country: Skiing, by Karin Bishop

Part 1

Chapter 1: Getting Ready For The Party

“Ann, have you decided what you want to do about the Maxwells’ party?”

The Maxwells were our oldest friends. My mom had known Donna Maxwell forever; Mom had been matron of honor at Donna’s wedding and was there to console her when she divorced, just as Donna cared for my mom when my father walked out. Now Mrs. Maxwell lived with her own mother and her two sons; I dearly loved her mother and we all called her ‘Gramma’, but her sons were another matter. Mrs. Maxwell’s oldest boy Jeff was a year older than me, and Kevin was two years younger. Jeff was a macho jerk, and Kevin was just a goof; Christmas with them was a ritual annoyance.

This year would be different. It was my first Christmas as Ann. It was funny; I didn’t think of myself as transgendered so much anymore. I thought of Tony, the boy that I’d been, as transgendered. Once I had been accepted by my mother and doctors as transgendered, and allowed to start living full-time as a girl, there wasn’t anything ‘trans-’ in my mind anymore. To me, I was a girl that felt like a girl, so everything was in its proper place.

Unfortunately, there was one thing that was out of place; I still had a boy’s genitals. Well, ‘genitals’ might not be completely accurate—externally at least—because my testicles had been up inside of my abdomen since spring. And they were going to stay there, until it was time for them to be removed surgically when I turned eighteen and had my sexual reassignment surgery. And I knew it was a legal term, but personally I didn’t consider reassignment as a word that applied to me, since I already knew that my sex was female!

I wasn’t delusional, of course; I knew the difference between ‘sex’ and ‘gender’. And that there were some government documents that said, ‘Anthony Mason, male’ on them; by law, they couldn’t be changed until after my surgery. Some records could be changed, and at least my school records were correct now. This fall I’d gotten my first full report card and ‘Ann Mason, female’, had a 3.7 GPA.

It was funny to think about Mom’s question; she’d meant ‘what you want to do’ as to whether to go to the party or not, but I thought about what if it meant ‘go as a boy’ or ‘go as a girl’. There wasn’t really any way I could go as a boy because I simply didn’t look like a boy anymore. Thank goodness! After the cross-country drive to my grandmother’s in Vermont this past summer, I had lost most of my worries about being taken for a boy, and after living completely as a girl since school ended last spring, I had no worries whatsoever.

If I were going to the party as a boy named Tony, Jeff and Kevin would make fun of me somehow and I’d be miserable and probably end up sitting by myself, watching the clock. That’s what happened most years. We lived in different school districts so the only time I saw them was at Christmas for their party, and if we went skiing that year. Going to the party as a girl, the razzing from the boys would be excruciating at first but eventually they’d get bored with it and move on, and at least I’d be me, and I would spend the evening with the other ladies. More importantly, they were the closest thing we had to family on this side of the country, and it was time they met Ann. So, I made my mind up.

“Mom, unless you have an objection, I want to go. I want them to know me as I am.”

“Are you sure? You can stay home, you know. Donna will understand. But I worry that Jeff and Kevin are sure to give you a hard time. In fact, I don’t know but that Jeff might try to hurt you.”

“Well, from everything I’ve heard, he is a bully at school, but he’s not with his buddies to back him up now. Kevin’s just kind of an annoying goof. Besides, I don’t think they’ll try anything with their mom and Gramma there. It’ll be name-calling and snide remarks, or at least as much as they can get away with. But I know who I am and they can’t hurt me with names. They’ll just get tired, I hope. But …yes, I am nervous.”

She’d already told Donna about my change, of course, although Donna hadn’t seen me yet. I was looking forward to the chance to really dress up—in my first pretty holiday dress! I’d always envied little girls who got to dress up for special occasions, and now, after all those wasted years as a boy, I finally got to dress up. We’d chosen a deep emerald green velvet, empire style, that had dark green satin embroidery on the bodice, cuffs on the long sleeves, and embroidered hem. And beautiful white lace stockings—I think I loved those stockings most of all—and black pumps with a 3" heel. I’d fallen in love with heels and what they did for my legs, and after months of practice in Mom’s heels I’d gotten pretty good in them. A white satin slip with a lace hem matched the stockings. I would feel so pretty wearing it all!

I spent the day getting ready. I pinned my hair up and took an extra long bubble bath, shaving my legs and under my arms at the end. The whole time I very carefully didn’t look at my ‘boy bit’. I could say ‘penis’ to the psychologist I met with, but I didn’t like to confront it on a daily basis. I considered it foreign and thought of it as a tiny piece of useless, unwanted flesh between my legs. I cleaned there and dried it and then would tuck it back into place and do my best to forget about it. Thank goodness my testicles were nicely gone, up inside my body, so all of my panties fit smoothly.

My breasts had finally blossomed, and now poked out of the water like two rosy buds; although they were still small mounds, when I rubbed them with the soapy water they gave me such an exquisite tingle because they were now an erogenous zone! I crossed my arms and put my hands on my breasts—and how good it was to be able to say my breasts! —and gently floated with my eyes closed. All the doctors’ talks and all the reading I’d done couldn’t prepare me for how incredible it felt, or how sexy and feminine it made me feel.

After my bath, with my towel wrapped around over my boobs, I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my room, played with my hair and decided that I would wear it up but loosely. I asked Mom if she knew how to style it that way; she did and she thought it would be lovely. I changed into this cute kimono Mom had found for me; then she called me into the bathroom. All of her styling stuff was laid out, and for the next half hour we tried different things until we both realized we had it perfect. It was loosely piled on the back of the top of my head, and curled tendrils hung in front and back of my ears. It framed my face and was so soft and feminine, yet had elegance to it.

Proper party makeup was a mystery to me; I was allowed to use makeup, but my experience was only some shadow, mascara, and light lipstick for everyday wear. I’d never really done nighttime party makeup, so Mom helped there, too. After I thought I was done, she added more rouge to my cheeks, and more shadow to my eyelids. I hadn’t applied lipstick yet, so I reached for the tube and she stopped me.

“Wrong color, and there’s more to it than just that tube.” She gave me a small box with slim golden tubes and pots of color. She took my chin in her hand, and as she worked she told me about applying the outer line, filling in with color, adding a highlight to the center, and finishing it all off.

While she stopped to check her work, moving my head from side to side, I said, “Mom, this is incredible. Where did you learn how to do all this?”

“Same place you will. Women’s magazines. Only I’ve never actually done this before!” She chuckled. “I never had the courage, and let’s face it—who wants to see fabulous lipstick on this old face?”

“But Mom, it’s not ‘an old face’, but anyway isn’t that the point—to make your face fabulous?”

“On fabulous occasions, maybe, but not everyday. And we spend so much time living in the everyday. Now stop talking while I finish up.”

When she was done and I looked in the mirror, the difference in my lips—and my whole face—was astounding. They were truly ‘kissable lips’, but more importantly they were a pretty girl’s lips.

“Mom, this is incredible! I’d kiss you, but I don’t want to ruin it!”

“Don’t worry about that, honey; it’s a really good sealer but you’ll want to touch it up later anyway.” She stood behind me and we both looked into the mirror—mother and daughter. “Oh, Ann, you’re beautiful! Just how I always dreamed!”

I looked her reflection in the eyes. “Really, Mom? You dreamed of me?”

“Absolutely. This might be embarrassing, and I thought I’d never say this, but I’ve already told Dr. Livingstone so I guess you might as well know. When you were first born, I cried for weeks that you weren’t a girl. ‘Post-partum Depression’ they called it. Well, we know it should have been called ‘My-baby’s-the-wrong-sex Depression’. But things are changing to where they should have been all along, and I’m happy that you’re happy.”

“Absolutely! But …Mom! You never told me; after all this time …I had no idea that …” I swallowed. “You really wanted a girl? Really and truly?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Really and truly,” she beamed at me.

I chuckled. “You know, I was thinking about going to the Maxwells as Tony, and—”

“Why ever would you think that?” She was shocked.

I waved a hand. “I didn’t mean tonight; I just meant in general. Thinking about the times I’ve gone to the Maxwells. Times past.” She nodded, relieved. But the thought was enough to make me giggle. “Can you imagine if I tried to put on Tony’s clothes now and go?”

She chuckled at the image, then sobered quickly. “Yes, a funny image—to us. Donna, too, probably, because you just don’t look like a boy. But you would look like a stereotypical gay boy—and that would really get Jeff’s anger up!”

Mom had told me about how Donna was worried about some of the guys Jeff hung out with at his school. Without a gentle male presence in the family, Jeff was getting his mind skewed by some homophobes in his group, and was saying horrible things and treating them as self-evident truths.

“Well, I’m kind of banking on being so obviously a girl, and not a boy dressed as one, that Jeff’s instincts will cause him to back off. Ridicule, yes; I’m expecting that. He’s a jerk and that’s that. But …yeah, like I said, I’m nervous.”

“And you still want to go?”

“Have to, Mom. I can’t hide from the haters. And I really want to see Gramma, and Donna. The boys will sneer and then go off to play videogames or, I don’t know …throw rocks at church windows or whatever the heck they do.”

“Don’t say ‘heck’, Ann,” she laughed. “Proper young ladies— ”

“And I’m one of ‘em,” I interrupted teasingly. “Got my Grandma-ma’s seal of approval an’ everything!”

“Ahem! Proper young ladies don’t say ‘heck’—or interrupt!” she chuckled. “Now go get dressed.”

I was just about to get dressed when Mom knocked at the door. She had a gift box with her, and said it was an early Christmas present. Inside was the most beautiful ivory satin bra, panty, and slip I could ever dream of. The bra was absolutely smooth with wide straps at the sides of the cups, the bikini panties had lace at the waist, and the slip was a breath of ivory shimmer. Tears welled up in my eyes as I hugged Mom.

“Oh, they’re beautiful! I can’t thank you enough! I’m going to feel so special.” I batted air at my eyes.

“Honey, they only match the beautiful daughter you’ve become. Merry Christmas.” She started to tear up herself. “Now you’ve got me doing it!” She chuckled. “Can’t do our eyes all over again! I’ll leave you to get dressed.” She was fanning her own eyes as she left.

I slid the panties up my smooth legs, and the lace lay flat against my tummy. My boy bit stayed safely tucked away, and the panties were deliciously cute. When I put on the bra, I found that my budding breasts were caressed by the satin cups, and the bra’s design made my breasts look bigger—it turned out to be a teen girl’s type of Wonderbra! I had never had such expensive feminine lingerie on before; while I’d worn expensive clothing all summer at my grandmother’s, for some reason she felt lingerie was utilitarian and should not be ‘frivolous’. If this was frivolous lingerie, I liked it! I promised myself that I would become the kind of woman that always wore such finery.

It was time for my nails. I’d only had a light shimmery glaze, which I really liked for everyday, but I removed it and began to apply two coats of a dark burgundy shade. I did my toenails, too, something that always felt girlish and fun. Tonight I wanted to feel totally girlish, so I pulled out all the stops. Finally, I spritzed myself with ‘Trésor’, and added a dab between my breasts.

I browsed through the new Teen Vogue while my nails dried, seeing a really cute purse and thinking about other possible things would be fun to get this Christmas. Some new tights would be great, and those neat scarf and mittens I saw at Penney’s, and maybe a curling iron, and . . . As I sat there in my fantastic new bra and panties I realized how greedy I was to want anything more. So forget all that; I didn’t want things. I made my Christmas wish out loud: “Santa, you don’t have to bring me anything, just let me get through this night and spend the rest of my life as Ann!”

The white lace stockings slid on as smoothly as I knew they would, and I got a strange new thrill seeing my burgundy toenails peeking through the toes. So many new girl sights, smells, and feelings this First Christmas! I slipped into the dress, admiring the heavy velvet and smooth drape. I had to tug it a little over my breasts—that’s how much the new bra helped! I stepped into the heels, using the special long-handled shoehorn. I put on two thin gold rings, and was attaching a gold tennis bracelet as I walked to Mom’s room.

“Can you zip me up, Mom?” Such a simple phrase, such a cliché, but such a feminine thing to say!

Her muffled reply was unintelligible. I was turning around when her door opened; she reached out, and zipped me up.

“Uh, thanks. Is everything okay?”

She grinned sheepishly. “I had so much fun doing your makeup that I’m running late. Sorry! Oh, what are you wearing for earrings?”

“Wasn’t sure. Hoops or dangles? I forgot to ask you.”

“So many things to remember, I know. Don’t worry, honey, you’ll have many more special occasions and pretty soon this’ll all be second nature to you. The dangles would be—wait a sec; I’ll give you some earrings to wear but I’m afraid you’ll have to clean them.”

She went to her jewelry chest and handed me a small box. She only had her blouse on over her slip, and was all disheveled.

“I’m sorry, Mom, I feel really selfish now with the time you spent on me.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry about it, I said. Now, use some alcohol and sterilize those before you wear them. I think you’ll like them.”

The box held two diamond earrings I’d never seen before. They were teardrop dangles, set in gold. I was dazzled; I didn’t know she’d had anything this gorgeous.

“Oh, Mom, thanks! I do like them; no, I love them! I’ll take good care and return them clean.”

After cleaning the earrings, I went back to my vanity to put them on. I couldn’t believe how much they sparkled as they caught the light and winked through my hair.

I decided to add one thin necklace, with a flat gold heart. Even though it was under my dress, I would know it was there and I liked feeling it between my breasts. I realized that I was done; I was dressed. As if on cue, Mom appeared at my door, fully dressed in a white silk blouse with blousy sleeves and a high, flaring collar, a long tartan skirt and matte black heels.

“Ready?”

“Oh, Mom! You look gorgeous!” I let out a ‘whoosh’ of air and stood up. “And I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Time to meet the Maxwells.”

She smiled warmly. “And time for them to meet my beautiful Ann!”

Chapter 2: The Maxwells

We had to park a block away because there were so many cars parked on the street; it looked like everybody was giving a party tonight. I wrapped my long black jacket around me as we walked to the house, and loved the hollow ‘thwock’ of my heels echoing through the night. Before Mom rang the doorbell, she turned to me.

“Last chance, honey. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, Mom. It’ll be rough; I’m expecting that. But I’ve got to do it.”

“That’s my girl!” She laughed. “Oh, Ann, I love you. No matter what happens tonight, I’m proud of my daughter.”

“I love you too, Mom—now ring that bell, fire up the popcorn and let’s start this movie!”

Donna opened the door, smiled when she saw Mom and started to say something when she took her first look at me. Her mouth stayed open and she froze for a moment, like a movie cliché. It seemed like she was taking forever, and I thought everything would fall apart, when she suddenly smiled—even her eyes smiled, thank God!

“Oh my. Oh my! Tony—I mean Ann, you’re beautiful!”

I was so pleased that I didn’t even mind her using my old name. After all, she’d known me since I was in the womb.

“Oh my!” she said again. “I’m sorry, both of you come in, come in. Your mom told me about you, you know, but she didn’t really prepare me for how—” She paused, waving a hand in the air.

I got a chill of doom waiting for her next word.

“—real you are! I mean—”

Mom laughed. “We know what you mean, and thank you, Donna. Yes, I do have a beautiful daughter, don’t I?”

Donna took our coats as the two boys shuffled into the room, heading somewhere. They stopped dead in their tracks. And stared. In the uncomfortable silence, I smoothed out the front of my dress and folded my hands in front of me, never taking my eyes off them.

Kevin broke the silence first. “You look like a girl!” he said with a strange tone of dismay. It was probably his most vicious cut, and if he intended it to hurt, it had the exact opposite effect on me—I was overjoyed.

“Thank you, Kevin. I am a girl,” I said as naturally as possible.

Jeff still stared as Kevin turned and bounded upstairs. His face went through some strange contortions and I realized he was thinking of several cruel things to say and then discarded them because his mother was standing there. Finally he found his voice and tried to match his little brother’s scorn.

“Have fun with the old ladies!”

“Thank you, Jeff, I will.” Again, as calmly and naturally as I could. Jeff frowned and turned to stalk down the hall towards his room.

I could feel Donna and Mom let out their breaths.

Mom said, “Well, that either went very well or very badly. What do you think, Annie?”

“Very well. They’ve seen me and treated me just like a girl!”

The two women realized what I meant; from what I’d heard, Jeff was a notorious male chauvinist pig at his school while Kevin still probably thought girls had cooties. They looked at me, saw a girl, and they had unconsciously treated me like they would any other girl—with contempt. For my part, I realized that I had just had my first taste of a macho male put-down. Just one more thing to make me feel like a real female.

We heard a bustling coming from the kitchen; it had to be Gramma.

“Let me see you! Oh, my goodness!” She hugged Mom and then peered at me through her thick glasses and then reared back in surprise.“You’re lovely! I never would have thought it, Tony!”

Donna and my mom let out subtle choking sounds.

Gramma looked up from one to the other, unsure what had happened. “What? What did I say?”

“Her name is Ann, Mother,” Donna said with a smile. “Tony’s—gone.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Yes, and good riddance!” I said with a firm nod.

All four of us looked at each other for a moment and simultaneously started to laugh.

“Too many men around, anyway!” echoed Donna.

“Who needs ‘em?” laughed Mom.

“Welcome to the better world!” said Gramma.

I realized that was exactly what had happened. I’d moved into a better world—better for me. All my life I’d been living a lie, on the sidelines of the real world, afraid to really participate because someone might discover my secret. And while I still had a secret—that I’d been born as Anthony—it just didn’t seem important somehow. My life had truly started this past spring, when I began living full-time as Ann.

While the boys stayed in the den playing video games and making noise, we four sat in the living room—I had never been allowed in the living room when I was Tony—and talked about everything from the turkey to hairstyles to Donna Karan to MTV to Twilight—and Gramma surprised me with how hip she was! I loved every minute of it. Donna had brought out tea and small cookies as an appetizer while the turkey cooked, and there seemed no doubt that Donna and Gramma fully accepted me as another female. My mom would look over at me every few minutes with a smile at how well I was doing. Then Donna dropped a bombshell.

“I forgot to mention that we’ll be a few more this year. Margaret and Lisa are coming. They just had a little disaster and I thought it best if they come here instead of trying to cook over there.”

Margaret was a mutual friend of Mom and Donna who had been hit hard by the sudden death of her husband. She had two kids; Stuart was nineteen or so and just starting college, and Lisa was my age. Obviously, Stuart had never wanted to hang out with younger teenagers, so Donna’s boys and I never spent any time with him, and we certainly never spent any time with Lisa because she was a girl. Of course, I’d desperately envied her precisely because she was a girl—a very pretty teenaged girl, just like I wanted to be. But now I was very, very nervous. I’d prepared myself for meeting Donna’s family because they were like my second family; I didn’t know if right now I could handle others who’d known Tony, however distantly.

Outside of my doctors and one or two other adults, only one person my age—my wonderful friend Jane Harrington—knew that Ann Mason had been Tony. Mom and I had left for my grandmother’s in Vermont the day after school let out and I was forever Ann now; no more Tony. My grandmother took her new granddaughter in stately stride, literally taking me by the hand and introducing the world of High Tea, marmalade, ‘dressing for dinner’, and other social graces to her California granddaughter. I absolutely worship the woman even as I somewhat fear her, as Mom does—Grandmother can wither you with a glance, not that I gave her too many opportunities!

But it was an entirely different world. First there was ‘my fitting’, which was not one fitting but a series, with Grandmother overseeing the selection of styles, fabrics, tailoring, and final appointments with the seamstress. Mom had warned me, counseled me, and provided comfort when I would freak out. What really helped was to realize that Mom had undergone all this, for years, growing up as Grandmother’s daughter. So I could certainly bear it for one summer.

A great deal of the time was spent learning ‘deportment’—a word I grew to hate but would grudgingly admit I needed—and so I learned proper ways to walk and talk and sit, as well as learning to crochet. Grandmother had prepared a list of books that a Young Lady should read, and so I was plunged into Jane Austen and the Brontës. It was decided that I be enrolled in art classes. I thought it sounded wonderful but consisted of Young Ladies Taking The Air while occasionally dabbing watercolors of a garden. And, yes, there was a certain type of dress required for that function, too.

But I couldn’t complain, as Grandmother exposed me to real arts by taking us to Boston twice, once to the Boston Symphony for a Midsummer Concert with Vivaldi, Scarlatti and Haydn; and once for a special summer ballet performance of Romeo & Juliet. Each time we were passengers in a ‘limo’ she’d rented, but not one of those big ‘stretch’ limousines. It was a black Town Car, and we stayed at the Copley Plaza and it had to cost an absolute fortune but Mom told me to keep two things in mind: First, Grandmother had the money. Second, she wanted to introduce her granddaughter to ‘the finer things’. It was a mark of her acceptance of me that she wanted to make me a female of culture. I was humbled and thankful to the point of tears.

It was amazingly hard to say goodbye to Grandmother—talk about tears!—and the drive back across the country was rather brisk. On the way to Vermont, everything was new because it was my first full-time girl experience. By late August I’d been through Grandmother’s training, as well as having been full-time for months. Both Mom and I were anxious to get home and get our new life together started; I only wished I was old enough to drive so I could share the burden with her. We followed our same routine of 500 miles a day, cheaper motels—now quite different after Copley Plaza!—and Denny’s. And we got home in record time …and there was some fantastic mail waiting for me …

I wasn’t aware that all during the summer, my mother had been working with my primary doctor, Dr. Livingstone, and her little team of specialists, to set my future in another direction. My documentation existed on two levels; the first was governmental, which was my birth certificate, passport if I’d had one, and Social Security number. The other level was the state and school levels, basically. Dr. Livingstone’s team worked with my mother and that level of documentation—what they called ‘the second tier’—was changed; the first tier would have to wait until I had sexual reassignment surgery at eighteen. But for everyday purposes, the second tier would do, and now, legally, my name became Ann Elizabeth Mason, honoring my mother with my middle name. My school records were all changed forward and the previous records, as Anthony, were sealed. If was as if Ann had appeared last year with such-and-such grades—pretty darned good ones, too!—and we moved on from there.

And moving on meant a new school. Since I was diagnosed as transgendered, it put me in a ‘high-risk’ category, which allowed me to transfer to Randolph Berry, the catch-all ‘continuation’ school. I was registered as Ann, a female, and nobody knew I was transgendered, because I looked and acted so naturally feminine. As far as I knew there were two other male-to-female and one female-to-male transgendered students and several very effeminate gay males, as well as gay males that gave no indications. There were some lesbians, from Emily Brontë-types to butch dykes. There were also very pregnant girls, hoping to finish their school before delivering. There were the psychological cases, the ‘head jobs’ in the slang of the school, like Ken with OCD who had to count the steps ten times before walking up a staircase. And oddly enough, there were some truly gifted kids there, too, who usually worked one-on-one with special teachers. For instance, there was Maria, who spoke of ‘modularity conjectures’ and ‘automorphic forms’ and was apparently doing math at such a high level that NASA was interested in her. Mixed in with us were some punks and borderline juvies, but nobody with violent crimes. The security was tight and fortunately, most of the kids wanted to get on with their schooling and back out into the world. Oddly enough, with all the potential criminals and crazies, we had far fewer fights than any regular high school around. But there was a bit of a stigma of going there, because other kids never knew what to make of us, and of course those kids called us ‘Berries’. We turned the derision around and called ourselves that proudly.

One of the great things about the school was that the usual gossip and questions about somebody didn’t really apply. In regular school, there’s always a rumor like, ‘Hey, I heard Craig Denton is gay!’ or ‘Hey, is Ken in our English class schizo or something?’ or ‘Did you hear that Shelly is pregnant?’ and on and on. The funny thing among us Berries was that if Craig was gay, he was, fully open, no doubt about it and no rumors involved. You didn’t wonder if Ken was schizo; you knew he had OCD, and Shelly was at five months. Rumors became as silly as saying, ‘Hey, did you hear that Shelly is a brunette?’ because you already knew she was so what was the point of rumors?

On the other hand, you didn't have to broadcast your history. I’d prepared myself to officially ‘out’ myself as transgendered, but it never really came up. There was no routine of standing up in class and explaining yourself; you just said ‘present’ or ‘here’ when they called your name. If you wanted to tell somebody about yourself, you could, but there wasn’t any pressure to do so. And, again, it would be odd to do so: I didn’t need to say, ‘My name is Ann and I’m transgendered’ anymore than Maria would say, ‘My name is Maria and I’m a genius’. Everybody got to know one another as people, and maybe that was the best thing about it; there were fewer cliques and exclusiveness than with regular school. There was an odd ‘live and let live’ philosophy because we were all so very different from each other. So, collectively, there was this sense of ‘being special’ as a good thing, a badge of honor. The funny thing was that kids that went to regular school never knew what our specialness was—except for the obviously pregnant girls—and were usually afraid to ask.

I was making new friends, though, and fitting in and everything was going fine. I got together with Jane Harrington when I could, but we all felt that ‘Jane and Annie cruising the mall’ was not the best idea since we’d inevitably run into kids that knew Tony and tales would start, and that could make things awkward for Jane. So we did movies or distant malls, but Jane had finally found a smart-enough and confident-enough guy, Paul, who asked her out to Homecoming and she was part of a couple now, head-over-heels and crazy about him. I was so happy for her, and although I missed spending as much time together as we had, the awkwardness of our relationship was eased.

The other girl that I’d gotten friendly with was a girl that I’d met for one day when Mom and I crossed the country to my grandmother’s. I’d met Amy at a motel in Elko, Nevada, and we’d hit it off immediately. She was the first girl who only knew me as Ann and only knew me as a girl, and would always be precious to me because of that. She had a thing for hockey players, so I sent her pictures and articles from the New England papers about the teams, and we emailed back and forth. I’d dearly hoped we could hang out even a little bit when Mom and I had returned from Vermont, but the timing was wrong—Amy was at soccer camp that week so we missed. But at least Mom and I got home sooner, I guess.

Once Amy got back, we fired up the emails back and forth and it continued all through fall. She was struggling in school but basically it was because she was bored. Her soccer team came in third in the state so that was pretty cool. There was a guy that had come to work on a nearby ranch and she really liked him—her emails were almost raunchy sometimes!—and I was happy that she had a boyfriend but worried that she hated her small town so much that she’d run away with the guy or something. Meanwhile we kept in touch and—aside from some serious talk about male bodies!—I picked up some good advice from her about dealing with other girls through her own experiences. Mom said perhaps we’d get a chance to make the long haul back to Elko, or perhaps our friendship will dissipate over time. I hope not; Amy was a lot of fun.

There were some Randolph Berry girls that I’d gotten friendly with; Kelly and Christina especially. We were like Three Musketeers and hung out together, did the malls and movies and had sleepovers where I was very careful about not letting the secret bit of Tony be known. I could have declared myself transgendered and not worried, but our friendship had developed before any such declaration. And they were much more ‘normal’ than I was; Kelly had a crazy stalker ex-boyfriend at her regular school and became a Berry for safety, and Christina had a slight learning disability and had special classes. By the time I realized they thought I was a Berry because of reasons like Kelly—and it was a painful subject to her so we avoided it—telling them I was transgendered would unnecessarily complicate things. Mom and I were very nervous about the first sleepover, but we figured that not going to invited-sleepovers would just raise questions while everything was going so well—it might even seem like a brush-off. So I went to the first, and then the second, and that crazy time on Christina’s birthday …and my penis just wasn’t an issue. And it was so small and so completely tucked away that nobody ever saw or suspected anything—especially with my pretty breasts, small as they are—there was no doubt to my girlfriends that I was just another girl named Annie.

Chapter 3: Meeting Lisa

But the Maxwells, and now their friends …they knew Tony and so there would be that awkward weirdness and watching everything said and every gesture …

“Everything will be fine, Annie,” Mom whispered, reading my mind and calming me. I started to answer.

Just then the doorbell rang; it was Margaret and Lisa. Donna let them in and they did the usual bit removing their coats, and then they joined us in the living room. After the initial ‘hellos’ there was an uncomfortable silence.

“Margaret, you might be wondering exactly—” Donna trailed off, not sure how to explain me to them.

I’d been studying Lisa for a moment; her jet black shoulder-length hair shone against her red Christmas dress and again I envied her beauty. I decided to jump into the deep end, figuring that by talking to Lisa I would establish myself once and for all to everybody.

“Lisa, you probably remember me when I was named Tony. When I was born, the doctors thought I was male and that’s the way I was raised. But the truth was that inside, my mind was female, and it took some time for the doctors to realize that.” I was abridging things for Gramma’s sake.

“You mean you’re transgendered,” Lisa said matter-of-factly. “No problem. Are you all right now?”

We all were flabbergasted by her bluntness and her casual acceptance. Donna and Margaret looked at each other awkwardly. I glanced at Mom—she actually had her mouth open. She caught my glance and looked at me wonderingly, but I was more concerned about Gramma. She seemed to sit there as if nothing was wrong; she studied the cookie in her hand, and I realized this was her polite way of removing herself from the moment.

“Yes, Lisa, I’m very all right now. Better than all right!”

“Cool.” She nodded and took a sip of the tea.

We all seemed to realize that we’d been holding our breath; now there was a collective ‘whoosh’ followed immediately by laughter as we realized we were past the hard part. Suddenly I felt that we’d all grown closer, and I was struck yet again that this is one of the great things about women—this closeness. The conversation resumed, with Lisa taking part occasionally. I knew she was studying me, but I didn’t mind since she wasn’t overt or mean about it. A timer went off in the kitchen, and Gramma got up to check on the turkey. One by one Donna, Margaret, and my mom followed, leaving Lisa and me. I started to grow nervous with the silence that occurred.

“You probably think this is weird,” I began.

“Well, yes and no. The whole topic is kind of weird, but I’m interested in science and genetics so I’ve actually read a lot about it. And no, it’s not really weird because you’re so natural. I mean, you just seem like another girl. How long have you been doing this?”

“I’m not ‘doing this’; it’s what I am.”

“I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right. I didn’t mean anything bad by it. I meant, well, two things. First, how long have you known? And second, how long have you been able to be Ann? In public, I mean?”

“I’ve known ever since birth. That is, ever since my earliest memories. I’ve always felt like a girl, even though I couldn’t really know how girls felt, I just knew that I didn’t feel like the other guys felt. My thoughts, my reactions, my preferences were all feminine.”

“God, it must have been torture.”

“It was. Yeah, it really was. But now it looks like things have worked out.”

“Well, you sure look normal. Oops! That sounded awful, too! I meant ‘natural’. Or is that an insult, too?”

I laughed at the situation, and to put her at ease. “Oh, Lisa, don’t worry! The only way to hurt my feelings is to tell me I look like a boy!”

“Well, you certainly do not! Part of the reason I asked how long you’ve been ‘doing this’ is because you’ve got great legs—I wish I had ‘em! And is that your hair or a wig?”

“It’s mine. And thanks about my legs. At the risk of sounding egotistical, I’m surprised how nice my legs look; it’s like they’re not mine because I always thought I had scrawny boy’s legs.”

“Yeah, I could see what you mean, but they’re great for a girl! And who did your hair? It’s really cool!”

“I had the idea but Mom did the actual pinning.”

“My hair just won’t stay up unless I pull it tight, and then I look pinched.”

“No, no, you’ve got beautiful hair. In fact, if you grow it a little longer and you can have a Gibson Girl.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that. That’s an old lady style. Really ancient.”

“It’s making a comeback. What you do is dress really cool, like black leather and glitter, and your hair up in the Gibson. I saw it in Teen Vogue.”

“I’ll have to check that out. Sounds cool!”

“It is, because you don’t have to go all retro. I mean, you can dress hip and the Gibson makes you even hipper.”

“The contrast, yeah; I like that. Um …”

“Your second question?” She nodded and I chuckled. “Um, out as Ann. Okay. I had to finish school last year as Tony, but I was Ann the rest of the time. Well, I was Ann all of the time, in my head and my heart, but you were asking about dressing. So. Every day when I got home from school, every weekend, all vacation. Until school ended, and that, literally, was Tony’s last day. So since then, I’m Ann to the world. And for the rest of my life.” I shrugged, so it didn’t seem like I was on a soapbox or anything.

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “You know, Ann, after just this little bit talking with you, I can’t believe you were ever a boy!”

“I wasn’t; not really. I was classified as one, had to try to live as one, but never thought or felt like one. I feel so much better now than I did, that I can’t believe I was ever a boy, either! And you can call me Annie if you want.”

“Okay, Annie. Cool. You know so much about hair., but …Uh, did you do your makeup, or did your mom do that, too?”

“My mom made me up. I do my own for everyday, but we wanted to do more for tonight. Why?”

“It’s, well, it’s kind of ...old. I figured she did it because it looks like a ‘mature woman’s evening wear’,” she said with a funny, affected voice.

“Oh God, is it awful?” My hand flew to my cheek.

Lisa laughed. “No, it’s not awful; it’s just—well, your mom did it! But we can fix it; let’s go into the powder room.”

We got up and went to Donna’s downstairs bathroom. Lisa picked up her purse on the way; I did the same. In the bathroom, she searched the cupboards until she found some cold cream, and told me to wash off the makeup I had. I put a towel around my shoulders and went to work. She dug around in her purse and began putting makeup on the counter. Once my face was clean and dry, she handed me some foundation and began to tell me how to apply it. I was already doing it and she broke off, smiling. When I was done, I sat down on the toilet lid and she went to work, holding my chin in her hand.

“You’ve got really pretty eyes, Annie; the boys must go nuts—oh! I don’t know if …?”

“Yes, you can. And I hope they do!” I smiled. “I’m just a regular girl who likes guys. I haven’t …done anything about it yet, but I know that they’re the opposite sex.”

She had straightened and was staring and then nodded, smiling slowly. “Yeah, I get it—the opposite sex! But you’ve been …Ann for a year now and you’re a babe—what’s wrong with the boys at your school?”

I blushed. “Thank you, Lisa. Actually not a full year as Ann. Although no more Tony, ever. And I go to a new school now. As Ann, of course.”

“Yeah; I guess you’d have to. And you’re probably keeping your head down, trying to blend in?” I didn’t need to go into life as a Berry so I just nodded and she did, too. “Well, then it does get harder to meet cute guys.”

We both chuckled at that. She gave me a look.

“But you …you know, don’t you?”

“Yep,” I grinned. “I’m a straight girl.”

She nodded and chuckled and went back to my makeup.“Cool. I was saying that your eyes are pretty but that blue eye shadow your mom had on you was the first ‘old lady’ thing I noticed. Never, never, never wear blue eye shadow. Never.”

“Okay, but when should I wear blue eye shadow?” I said with a smirk.

She laughed and cuffed my shoulder. “You goof! Okay, miss smarty-pants, always wear blue eye shadow. Especially when you’re around me. That way nobody will ever look at you twice!”

We laughed together like old friends which, in a way I guess we were becoming. It was odd; I’d known Lisa for years and she’d known Ann for an hour-and-a-half. Lisa used a brush on my lids and cheeks, then wiped the tip of her lipstick with a tissue and gently applied it to my lips.

“You know why I wiped the lipstick?”

“Because you don’t me want to get your germs? Assuming you would even have germs?”

She giggled. “Right. I guess that was obvious. It’s just that I was thinking about how strange it would be to suddenly jump into girlhood—all the little things that I don’t even think about any more. I’m not sure how much you know, how much you’ve only read, and what you don’t know.”

“I don’t know a lot; I mean, it hasn’t even been a year yet. But I do know that it’s fun learning! Will you help me? Please?” I hoped it hadn’t come out whiny.

She stood back for a moment and looked at me seriously. “Yeah. It’ll be fun teaching you. And—this’ll sound weird—I’d be honored to be your ‘Girl Guide’.”

“Oh, thank you, Lisa! I was so worried you wouldn’t want me as a girlfriend!” I stood up quickly and hugged her.

“Watch out! You’re not matted yet!” She laughed as she hugged me back. “I know what you mean. It’s weird; I know you and yet I just met you, sort of. Let me finish you up, then you take a look and tell me if I’m still your friend!”

I sat; she applied; then I stood and looked in the mirror. My mom’s makeup had been classic magazine glossy, and now that I saw the difference, Lisa was right; it had been mature evening wear. But what Lisa had done . . . was turn me into a really pretty teenaged girl. All of the makeup she applied was subtle but very feminine and very, very cool.

Lisa watched with pride as I checked my reflection. She chuckled, “Yeah, check yourself out; you’re a babe, girlfriend!”

“Lisa, you’re a miracle worker!”

“Nah; it’s no miracle when you were so pretty to begin with. And how did that happen, anyway? And what about, about—”

I followed the direction of her eyes and guessed her meaning. “My breasts?”

She laughed. “Yeah, only between girls we mostly just call ‘em boobs. So—what about your boobs?”

I knew that already but grinned. “A little bit me, and a really great bra. I’ve been taking hormones for a little while and I’m finally developing.”

“I’ll tell you something: You’ve already learned one of the biggest secrets about being a girl—a really great bra!”

We laughed, hugged, and decided to check up on how the turkey dinner was coming. When we got to the kitchen we were drafted to take things out to the table; it had already been set so we were ready to eat. Donna called the boys from the back and they had to be told to wash their hands before sitting down to eat. We all bowed our heads while Margaret said Grace, and I thought about how grateful I was that at long last I was allowed to be the girl I’d always felt myself to be.

We began eating, and I realized that Jeff and Kevin kept checking me out—Jeff especially had a strange look on his face. Lisa was sitting next to me, and when she volunteered to get more rolls from the oven, she leaned down and whispered to me, “Jeff thinks you’re a babe.”

I was shocked; all along I thought he was just freaked by my change to Ann. Maybe she’s wrong, I thought. I just couldn’t believe that Jeff really thought I was attractive, and I felt a little weird for the rest of the dinner and didn’t really look at him. No, I thought; she’s definitely wrong. She just misread how freaked out his is. He’s got those homophobe buddies and he’s trying to figure me out. And he can’t say anything that he really thinks because of his mom and Gramma.

Kevin made it plain that he had no interest in me whatsoever—if I wanted to be a girl, I guess he wanted nothing to do with me; if I was a girl, he definitely wanted nothing to do with me. Either way, I was out of the picture as far as he was concerned.

After dinner, and after we’d cleared the dishes, the ladies had coffee and the four kids all had cocoa, and we gathered around the tree to open one present each. This was a tradition, since we’d all do our real Christmas at home with our families the next day. Donna, Margaret, and my mom handed each of us one box, picked up theirs, and on the count of three, we all tore into our gifts.

Donna had hers open first; she got a sweater from her boys that was pretty awful—the colors didn’t match her at all and I knew it would be the first thing she exchanged! Well, maybe she’d keep it for the sentiment. She told them it was lovely, of course. Margaret got a beautiful scarf from my mom, and Lisa got a set of designer makeup brushes from her mom. Jeff got a fishing reel he’d been wanting, and Kevin got a Playstation game and immediately jumped up to go play it until Donna told him to sit back down. Mom opened her gift from Margaret; it was another scarf, and they both laughed that they had the same type of gift. I remembered seeing scarves given in years past and thought they were lame gifts, but this winter I’d discovered that I was a scarf-loving girl and noted theirs with new interest. My present was from Donna and I was stunned as I opened it: It was a gorgeous camisole and tap pant set in turquoise silk! I couldn’t believe it, and as I looked up from my gift I saw that the others were a little stunned, too!

“Merry Christmas, Ann,” Donna said quietly but with a big smile.

Donna had known me since before I was born, and I realized that she had just formally welcomed me as Ann. She had also let her two boys know that she accepted me fully as a female. It was a powerful and moving gesture of love on her part, and I jumped up and gave her a hug.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, Donna. You don’t know how much this means to me!” I was fighting the urge to cry.

“Yes, I think I do know, Ann.”

She gave me a firm hug back, and over her shoulder I could see my mom wiping a tear, Gramma and Lisa smiling, and the boys disgusted. They got up to go play Playstation, and we ladies—it felt so wonderful to think that!—sat back down to our coffee, cocoa, and ‘girl talk’. The night passed quickly, and soon we were standing at the door putting on our coats. Lisa turned to our two moms.

“Would it be okay if Ann and I got together the day after tomorrow? You know, to see what we got for Christmas?”

Our mothers looked at each other and shrugged. Margaret said, “It’s okay with me, but we’ve got a church function in the afternoon.”

Mom said, “It’s fine with me too, but who’s going where? I could drop Ann off or Lisa could come over.”

Lisa jumped in. “It’d be great it Ann could come over; I’ve got some things I want to show her.” She winked at me, although I wasn’t sure why. But I did want to spend some more time with my new friend.

“Fine with me,” Mom said. “About three? Okay, then, goodnight, everyone, and Merry Christmas!”

We enjoyed the quiet night as we walked to the car; once again I relished the sound of my heels tapping the pavement. The car was cold and we sat for awhile with the heater going, defrosting the windows.

“Did you have a good time, Ann?”

“Mom, I don’t think I could have had a better time if I scripted it!”

“I never really got to know Lisa, but she seems like a good friend for you. I know that Margaret has said she’s smart and popular—and that’s a great combination!”

“I’m just amazed at Donna’s present. I didn’t realize before how important it was to me that she accept me, and it just bowled me over. Wait a minute—you didn’t put her up to it, did you?”

“Only the color,” Mom smiled. “Donna’s known what you’ve been going through for the past year, and even before that I think she guessed what was going on. She’s been really supportive for me, and for you.”

I sighed happily.“What can I say? I’m a very lucky girl!”

We laughed, and she turned on the headlights, put the car in gear, and we drove home listening to Christmas carols on the radio. It had been one of the greatest nights of my life!

End of Part 1

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