A young man, whom is not what he should be,
is nearing the last options in life when FATE intervenes!

The Gift of Fate

Copyright© 2016 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.

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It is the first day of fall vacation and I am sitting at a table in the food court at the mall and wistfully looking at the table of girls a few feet away from me. I try not to stare—they are so beautiful! I sigh and take another bite of my hamburger—I want to be one of them SO badly.

I look down at myself in disgust. I have gained twenty pounds in the last few months alone and am now at least forty pounds overweight—I started binge-eating to cope with my depression a little over a year ago. I have seriously considered suicide once or twice. There is no way I will ever be able to be a beautiful girl like them at that table.

I take another angry bite of my burger.

Mom looks at me and says, “Finish up, Son. We need to get to the doctor’s for your appointment in thirty minutes.”

I sigh and take the last bite of hamburger. I wipe my hands on my napkin and finish my Coke with a slurping sound. I don’t want to go to the doctor. I know she will yell at me for gaining this weight. I can’t tell her WHY I have gained it. Not that SHE would have a problem with me being transgendered—she treats others with my problem, I know—it is MOM that I can’t tell.

Ever since Dad passed away last year in that fire, he was a really brave firefighter—a hero, she has gotten more into her ‘faith’. The church we go to doesn’t have anything against transgendered people either, per se. But there is a strong belief in fate that permeates the congregation. If God meant for you to be a certain gender, then that is your fate—you were born that way. Mom does not believe in tempting fate. There is no way she would be OK with me getting treatment for my condition, since my ‘fate’ is to be a boy.

I am now fourteen and will soon enter puberty. By the time I will be able to get the proper treatment to let me be the girl I am, I will have been subjected to years of body-wrecking testosterone. I give the pretty girls at the table a forlorn look as we pass them by.

An hour later, I am sitting in the exam room waiting for Dr. Simpson to finish putting stuff into my record in the computer. I was wrong, she didn’t yell at me. She did seriously talk to me, though. I think she can sense that I am depressed.

She says, “Shawn, I am going to send Nurse Grayson in here to talk you and your Mom through your new diet.”

Mom has decided that it is NOT fate that I am overweight and is going to make me get on this new diet and exercise program.

She messes on the computer some more and continues, “Oops, I almost opened the wrong record again. It is funny, I have another patient—Shawna Smittfeld—that was in just before you. Crazy close to Shawn Smithfield, huh? Anyway, I think this vegetarian diet and exercise program will be really good for you. The yoga will help with you get yourself centered. Since you’re going to be on a vegetarian diet, I am going to prescribe some vitamins and other supplements to make sure you’re getting everything you need, though.”

She leaves the room and I hear her talking to someone on the other side of the door.

After a minute, Nurse Grayson comes in and smiles at me. She says, “Hello, Shawn. Let’s talk through your diet and exercise program, OK?” She looks at Mom and asks, “I understand that you’re going to join the fitness club down the road for the programs?”

Mom nods and Nurse Grayson goes through the list of programs and classes that she recommends for me. Then she hands Mom a book outlining the diet. She says, “This will have the weight come off at about two to three pounds a week. The exercise will get you toned up, Shawn, and we will also get you limbered up with the yoga. OK? Any questions?”

I shake my head. Of course I have questions, but I know there is no sense asking them.

She looks at Mom and says, “The prescriptions will be available at your pharmacy on the record in about two or three hours. It will be set up to auto-refill every ninety days.” She looks at me and says, “Shawn, we will see you in a year, OK? Stay strong—follow your diet and your exercise program and you will be a different person when we see you!”

I nod and sigh heavily. I so wish that those ‘supplements’ could just turn me into the girl I am…
 

 
I quickly finish up with Shawn and go to help another patient. I come back to the computer thirty minutes later and finish up Shawna’s records, then Shawn’s. I am called to help another patient and come back to the computer and notice a mistake I had made in Shawna’s record—I had put in Shawn’s prescription instead of Shawna’s. I quickly remedy the mistake and start to double-check Shawn’s. At that moment, I am called to help with a small emergency. By the time I get back, I quickly submit the prescriptions to make sure they are ready on time.

I close those files and start preparing for the next patient…
 

 
Mom takes me straight to the fitness club from the doctor’s. We spend two hours touring the place and signing up to become members. I start classes tomorrow…

We go to the pharmacy and pick up my prescriptions. The pharmacist has a curious look on her face and looks at Mom and asks, “Do you have any questions?”

Mom shrugs and says, “Umm…no, I think the doctor explained it all…”

The pharmacist smiles and says, “OK. That will be $302.54.”

Mom gulps and pays. When we go to the car, she says, “Wow! Those are some expensive vitamins! You better take EVERY one of them as prescribed! Do you hear me?”

I just nod and she says, “Good! I am certainly going to make sure you do!”

When we get home, Mom opens the paper bag with the pills, throws away the paperwork in the bag without reading it, looks at the dosage on the bottle, and fills out one of those daily pill holders. She hands me the first dosage. I take the pills and swallow them with a large glass of grapefruit juice.

The next morning, I start my new diet… A bowl of cereal with soy milk and a glass of grapefruit juice—along with my morning pills. I go to the fitness club and do an hour combo aerobics and weight class. I think I am going to die.

Lunch follows—a tofu sandwich and a glass of soy milk.

In the afternoon, I have a two-hour yoga session ( I KNOW I am going to die). Then a vegetarian supper, including more tofu and my evening pills.

And so, the fall and winter continues…day after day…

By the time it is Christmas, I have lost twenty pounds. I actually feel good. The yoga is helping, I think. Of course, the fact that I haven’t started puberty yet helps.

One strange thing happens, though—my nipples are itchy and really sore. Ever since I gained my weight, I have had moobs… I have actually always seen this as the BEST part of my weight-gain. Interestingly enough, as I have lost weight, my moobs have not gone down.

I look at myself in the mirror and sigh. I am down to just ‘chunky’ now—no longer just flat-out fat. I smile at my moobs and cry at the fact that I can’t enjoy them like any other girl. I find that I am somehow much more emotional lately. Sometimes I cry at the weirdest things—sometimes I get really mad at weirder things…

School is going to start in a week, so Mom takes me out to get some new clothes, since my old ones are too big. We get some that are a little loose to hide my moobs…and, for some reason, pants don’t fit right, at the moment. I seem to be in between sizes, or something. My waist and hips/thighs seem to be out of proportion.

After getting my clothes, we go to the pharmacy and pick up my second ninety-days of pills. Mom, of course, gripes about the $302.54…
 

 
By the time I am ready for round three of my prescription, it is getting close to summer break. I am barely fighting off my depression—I only am successful at it because puberty still hasn’t hit me. That is surprising, really, since I am now almost fifteen. I have lost another fifteen pounds and look pretty good. I only have another ten or fifteen pounds to make it to my ideal weight.

More surprising, my moobs are still around. My nipples are not as sore or itchy, but they seem to be growing. I have carefully kept that from Mom, though. I don’t know what it means, but it makes me feel girly—and I don’t want her messing with that. She seems to think that my moobs will eventually go down… I pray they don’t.

The issue with my pants hasn’t gotten any better either. My shrinking waist has definitely outpaced my hips and thighs. Again, Mom says that will sort itself out…

My clothes also seem so…scratchy… Especially on my nipples…
 

 
By the time school is out again for Christmas break, I have finished my fourth round of pills and have completed a year of dieting and exercise. I have lost a total of fifty-five pounds. I am down to 105 pounds. You might think that is really low for someone that is five foot eight, but I look GOOD.

I am toned and highly flexible. I don’t have an ounce of fat on me. I also have boobs…I can’t explain it, but they are there… If I use a little imagination, I can see a beautiful girl looking back at me in the mirror—one that could be a super model if she wanted to be.

Mom takes my back in to see Dr. Simpson for my annual check-up.

She smiles at me and gives me a thorough exam—without Mom in the room with us. I tell her about my nipples hurting earlier in the year (they don’t anymore—they are just really sensitive). She gives me a strange look as she examines my boobs.

She has Nurse Jacobs take some blood and measure me.

An hour later, she is the room with Mom and me. She says, “I can’t explain it. It seems when you were here last, Shawn, somehow your records and Shawna’ Smittfelds’s got mixed up. You were prescribed Shawna’s hormone regimen—she is transgendered. For the last year, you have been on a mixture of hormone blockers and estrogen. For all intents and purposes you are fully in the middle of female puberty.”

Mom gasps and my heart flutters.

She continues, “Nurse Grayson was a temporary hire back then. She miraculously showed up when we had a need for a nurse and performed wonderfully for a week before she moved on. This is the first that I have known that she messed up. Of course, we will reimburse you for the cost of the meds, Mrs. Smithfield. We will also cover any and all future costs to make this right.”

Mom looks worried and asks, “What about Shawn?”

Dr. Simpson says, “Well, Shawn’s testicles are permanently atrophied from the year-long anti-androgen/high-dosage estrogen treatment and will need to be on hormone replacement therapy for the rest of his—or should I say her life. While we could give…her…male hormones, we can’t undo the developments that have already occurred. Shawn has real breasts…and should be in a bra—a 24-B, by the way… She also has a completely normal body in all other respects, save for reproductive organs, for a girl her age. At this point, it really IS better—at least physically—to continue the female regimen than to switch her in the middle of puberty to a male one…”

I nearly faint. It is like all of my prayers have been answered. I couldn’t have received a better Christmas gift.

Mom looks at the Doctor, then at me, and says, “Well, it looks like fate has decided that Shawn is now my daughter. We can’t argue with fate now, can we?”
 

 
I look down on the scene as it unfolds and smile. I knew there was only one way to give Shawn her peace and have her mother accept it—make it appear as though fate had decided the outcome. I know they will both be happy now…

I take up my next case file and prepare my next role…and the next gift for a worthy soul. I wonder if I will need to be a ‘nurse’ again?
 

Fin