This is my gift to a good friend. I may not be in her league for writing but take the gift as is please.
Happy mother's day Dottie.
Dorothy walked in the door of her modest flat. She had been alternately crying or angry all day. Worse she was not sure why. She had seen all these other mothers walking around in dresses, not too unlike her own that she chose that day, with their little girls giggling and skipping beside their mothers.
This had caused her problems as she knew that her own family, and in particular her very own daughter, had all but abandoned her. She had transitioned late in life, well past the time she had been, rather accidentally, a father.
The funny thing was she never once felt like a father. God knows she had tried so hard.
Doing the manly thing of working hard to support her family. Even going so far as to grow a beard and not once look at those clothing and underwear that she knew deep down, in her heart of hearts she was supposed to wear.
It was never a dressing up thing. Nor did it ever "get her off"
It was more of the only time she ever felt like a normal human being was when she was wearing the clothes of the right gender, even if it was supposed to be wrong. She had tried to 'church' it out. This had eventually backfired as her wife had gotten rather 'holier than hole christian'.
It was the nylons that had caused her downfall. She had been coming home after a really bad day, where she had once again, gotten fired from her job. She just could never seem to get the motivation to put her all into work. There was a growing part of her that required concentration to even act like a man.
It had gotten so bad at one point that she refused to look in any mirrors or reflections. It just hurt to much to see a thing move like she did. She never thought of it as her male self, or even herself really. Just a thing, a monster, of what she was supposed to really be.
But those delicate looking black lace nylons in the window just caught and held her attention. Before she knew it she had run in and bought them. She had cradled them like a starving man might cradle a piece of food.
She had all but run home with them and rushed to shave her legs to put them on.
That night her wife had noticed her legs. Her lame excuse of having a heat rash didn't fly at all.
After a few months of no jobs the tension at home got worse and worse. Even her secret stash grew piece by piece just to give her relief.
Like all things she eventually got caught by her wife. It did not take long before she was sleeping on her mothers couch and sobbing into her understanding mothers arms. They filed for separation as it was cheaper than a divorce.
Time moved on with her finally seeing therapist after therapist in a vain hope to cure herself. And in a very real way she did. After three long years Dorothy became a real person. While she had yet to get her surgery she lived as a woman.
Her former beard was now gone, or mostly gone. She had very real breasts of her very own, even if she felt they were far too small. She wore correct clothing and no longer had to pretend to be something she was not.
What really surprised her was how easy working became now. Yes she had some difficulty getting employment because of her gender issues. But then again not half as much as she had feared.
Weeks turned to months and she worked hard to get a place of her own. It was not the best of apartments. At least the nieghboorhood was safe. She came and went spending much of her time at work or getting treatments on her face and body as well as therapists. Recently they had been urging her to take the final step and get her surgery. She wanted to so bad but her wife and flat out told her that if she did she would never see her daughter again.
Dorothy sniffled again. Her daughter was the world to her. Every time she did get to see her, mostly because her ex was out doing something or another. She treasured that sweet innocent mind that she had had a part in creating. She would rather cut off her arms than hurt her daughter.
Her ex turned out to be less of a mother to her daughter and more of a father figure. Her friends jokingly told her that was because her daughters real mother was her. She flatly denied that each and every time. Just as she refused comments such as " I can't even imaging you as a tomboy. You were never a guy. Try again Dorothy"
They were just being nice was all. She looked in the mirrors now and saw what amounted too a guy in a dress. She didn't see the girl that everyone said was right there. With a sigh she put down her purse and took of her sandals before going to the kitchen to find something to eat that wasn't fattening. She had gotten really fat at one point to tried to hide, or kill herself depending on your point of view.
It didn't work and all it ended up doing was getting a trip to the hospital in the back of an expensive, she had to pay for it, ambulance. It hadn't been a heart attack but she was told that it very well could have been. She had mulled it over before her very sweet little girl had hugged her leg and told her " Don't leave me"
It had caused her to, once again, fall into heart wrenching tears in her loving mothers arms. It had taken time. Far more time than she wanted but she was steadily losing a few pounds a month. From her many magazines on weight loss it was the best way to lose weight. A few pounds here and there didn't come back. It was the massive weight loss that usually came back with a vengeance.
Simple things like going for a walk after eating, even if it was just around the block helped. Eating tasteful food low in sugars and bad fats also helped. She still loathed salads. Fish, chicken were her staples. Junk food was munching carrots or fruits. Nuts and shelled sunflower seeds were also the norm.
Gone was the greasy burgers and fries, pot roasts, loads of pasta with meat sauces. The mornings no longer had five soft yoke eggs with six pieces of toast, hash browns, and three slabs of ham and a pack of bacon. In truth when she thought of much of what she used to eat she got slightly ill. At the time she hadn't noticed. But now it was actually gross to look at when she saw an older fat man at a restaurant eat much of what she used too.
She wasn't skinny yet, not by a long shot, but she was getting there. She found her nights of sleep were actually better as she slept the whole night now.
The road to being a woman wasn't easy. She had been accosted by others more than once and getting called sir cause the ever present tears to gush. It was now fairly rare for her to be called anything but maam.
In the kitchen of her modest apartment was some used appliances. Some had scratches or dents or even broken plastic in odd places. They were dirt cheap appliances, new at the time, but still they had all at one point been an insurance claim of some trucking company. After the claim was finished a second company could purchase the damaged goods. All items factory warrenty was gone but they did work. They were also, a very important part at least to her, a quarter of the cost of their retail price in stores.
Her kitchen didn't really look that bad. The dent on the side of the microwave was hidden by the blender whose hidden broken side, taped, was pointed towards the microwave. The black and stainless steel toaster whose bright white cord was hidden against the wall. The toaster oven whose front handle looked quite nice, even if it was originally meant for furniture.
Her dishes were all white and almost matched. Some were from a dollar store, others used from thrift shops. Her cheap utensils were nice and new, again from the dollar store. Her daughters special cups, bowls, and plates, all disney were again from the one place that dealt with damaged goods. So what if it wasn't a complete set of one disney theme. Having a number of different princesses had thrilled her daughter.
Her living room furniture had been shampooed and cleaned, after a previous tenant had left giving it all to her. She didn't have end tables, or curtains per say. The old bed sheets tied with cords sorta looked alright if you didn't look close. She knew her apartment screamed girl. But it was hers, and more importantly to her it was actually a home.
The Reader's Digest cookbook, that had come as part of some promotion she never wanted or entered but they tried to make her pay for the items. Was open to where she had left it that morning. In the fridge was her mostly thawed chicken breast. She wanted to try the recipe in it. She had begun to teach herself how to cook with the help of the cookbook.
Not all of her recipes turned out. Actually the first few were really bad. But she was getting better. It was one of those things she had always wanted to learn, but the 'being a man' had prevented it. Next on her list was sewing. Sharp poky things didn't exactly endear her to learning it anytime soon though.
Just as Dorothy was going to open the fridge she saw that her answering machine had a message on it. Looking at the numbers she saw it was her mother. It being mother's day, and she had not gotten her mom anything yet, another thing on the forgotten to do list, she pressed play expecting the usual guilt trip.
"Dorothy... Dorrrrrroooothy... Are you there?"
There was a pause with a muffled voice that could be her mother speaking to someone else. Most likely her estranged brother and his wife.
"Well as soon as you hear this come here quick. I really need you to be here."
And the call ended just like that. No love you, no sorry's nothing.
Her mother only spoke like that when something bad had happened.
Reading books while she was growing up hadn't helped as her mind immediately filled with all sorts of horrors as to what had happened. First off was her mom's house had gotten broken into, vandalized because of her. It had almost happened before, the person ran off when she had stepped outside. It had forced her to move away from her mother at the time.
Dorothy moved quickly, grabbing her purse and shoving her feet into one of her favorite pair of flat shoes. A set that almost matched her dress. The sandals matched perfectly but were a pain to drive around in as dirt or gravel always worked itself under the heel of her foot while driving in them.
She left after making sure her door was securely locked behind her, the landlord was usually good about fixing things but little things such as sticky door locks because of shifted frames were beyond him. Some of her neighbor tenants had left their doors unlocked because of sticky doors not quite closing properly. It was a nice but old apartment building. The walls were lined with real old wooden trim, that had probably been really impressive when new but now, with a number of coats of old paint, looked tacky or just plain bad.
The building was old and therefore did not have an elevator that was in anyway fast. Since she only live three floors up it was quicker to just take the stairs. Stairs that also helped her lose some weight, an added bonus in her mind.
The short drive to her mothers house had her fretting over imagined horrors. By the time she got to her mothers she was sure that she would find cops everywhere and an ambulance hauling out some dead bodies. She was rather surprised when she pulled in and found it to be seemingly peaceful.
She had to take a few deep breathes to calm herself down. It was then she noticed that her brothers new, well newer, suv was in the driveway as well. She had been so worried at first that she had not seen it. Dorothy closed her eyes slowly as she understood.
Her brother's wife had never been at all accepting of her. She had, on previous occasions, always called her by the fake hated name from before. She couldn't think about that name anymore. It was almost like when someone said it she would first look around for someone else. Since they were there it was obvious that they, aka she, had been giving her mother a hard time again about it.
"Just breathe" she whispered to herself as she felt the anger rise its ugly head. She had always been afraid of that anger. Growing up she had lost control more than once and it had scared her a lot. Her therapist had repeatedly told her that this was because her brain was wired to be female and could only cope with female hormones. The effect of male hormones overloaded it and it was not her fault. She didn't believe it really. Though to give her credit since being on a controlled hormone usage, aka female hormones, she didn't get anywhere near as angry and instead often ran away crying instead.
Dorothy checked herself in the rearview mirror, again forgetting that her car had a vanity mirror in the sun visor. She was still presentable. She would never be a beauty by any stretch of the imagination. Still at least she didn't look like 'Him". Once she was satisfied that her hair was decent she opened the car door.
She wished that she exited gracefully but pulling oneself out against the seatbelt didn't in anyway let someone be graceful while extracting oneself from a fore mentioned seatbelt. Once she was out of her car she had a moment's fear. Usually when she visited her family she had always worn concealing tops and pants. Arriving in a sundress was sure to cause a problem.
"They just have to get used to it. It's too late to go home Dorothy" she said to herself. Holding her head up and the mantra of "just do it stupid" going in her brain she walked calmly but confidently to the door. She hesitated only a moment while the fear in her brain said to run away. She was tired of that very old voice.
She pressed the doorbell and heard it ring. Then waited.
She pressed again.
Still no answer.
Getting scared for her mother she opened the door ready for almost anything...
"HAPPY MOTHER"S DAY DOROTHY!" screamed five people.
Dorothy dam near had a heart attack at the surprise. Before her was a large banner, professional printed not a home job, that said Happy mother's day Dorot, the H and Y were missing or just hidden against the wall. Someone had not measured the banner correctly or something.
Wait a minute..
It couldn't be...
It was for HER! Not her mother. But Her!
Not the male name but HER!
Looking down she saw the blushing face of her mother. Her grinning brother. Even her sister in law was making an effort as her smile was there, plastic , but there.
But most important, at least to her, was her very own daughter.
She stood there at the door in her dress in shock as her daughter came up to her in a dress not too unlike her own, she should know she bought it for her.
"Happy Mother's day Mommie"
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