Part 3 of 7

Chapter 7
Rite of Passage, is a term used by anthropologists to mark a significant change in a person's place in society. Almost all societies mark marriage - the creation of a new family unit - with a formal ceremony. Becoming a member of a group, such as the military calls for a ceremony, and of course the passage from child to adult is the most obvious passage in our contemporary society.

The year that Rosie Ann turned nine found the Jordan family coping with several of these rites. Travis and Ruth both celebrated their fortieth birthdays, Ramona her eighteenth and her graduation from high school, Roxy started high school, Rita matured to the point of needing to wear a bra and Rosie Ann, no less certain of what she should be wearing than she was at age two, demanded that she should have a bra just like all of her sisters did. At nine she didn't throw a screaming fit on the floor, but no one in the household was unaware of her opinion, no indeed.

Once again, Ruth and Travis held a strategy session as they went to bed.

"Well love," Travis started, "I think we can no longer put off having Rosie Ann see that gender doctor, can we?"

"No, we can't. Travis, I love that child to death but just how did we get into such a situation?"

"The usual way - we got horny and nine months later…"

"You know very well that's not what I mean!"

"I know, I know… Has it ever occurred to you how easy it's been to treat our son as our daughter? I mean, from the moment she started to develop a personality she's been just like her sisters."

"And we've been blessed with a crop of strong, lively young women, haven't we?"

"That we have. I sometimes wonder just how much trying not to push the usual gender roles on our girls influenced Rosie Ann. There's no doubt of their femininity, especially Ramona with a boyfriend now, but they aren't feinting wallflowers, not by a long shot. I figure that the only thing that's kept Roslyn from being a championship wrestler is because the school doesn't have a girl's wrestling team."

"And they wouldn't dare let her compete against the boys and crush their poor little masculine egos, would they?"

"You may be right. Also, too much temptation to grab a boob by 'accident,' eh?"

"Speaking of crushed egos, about the only thing I can think would crush Rosie Ann's is to hit puberty and grow into some hulking jock."

"Which brings us back to the gender doctor. We know they can at least delay puberty until she's old enough to make her own decision."

"Not that she hasn't made that decision already. That girl is a stubborn as her father."

"Or her mother - don't forget her mother!"

"You know what's funny?"

"No, what's funny?"

"I'm not half as worried about having our daughter see a psychiatrist as I am having to fight the traffic in the city to get to the shrink."

"Which shows a mature attitude. Prioritizing your fears is the first step to dealing with them."

"So if I'm going to the city, the least you can do is take Rita and Rosie Ann bra shopping. That wouldn't irritate your masculine ego, would it?"

"Might get me hauled off to the hoosegow for hanging around the little girl's dressing rooms, though."

"I'll visit you on Thursdays and Saturdays until your trial comes up."

"Thanks a whole bunch."

"You're welcome. Look, you won't have to do anything but tell the girls how nice they look. I can assure you they know their sizes and have been trying on their sister's bras so there won't be any need for you to see them without their dresses on."

"How reassuring."

"Is my big, strong man afraid of a little 'ole bra?"

"So scared that I'm compelled to remove them whenever I see my wife wearing one."

"So what are you waiting for?"
 

"Mother! You can't be serious?" cried Rita in tones only an outraged pre-teen could manage.

"What? You afraid your father will see that you're wearing a bra? Like he hasn't noticed any of your sisters have breasts?"

"Mother!"

"Daughter! And which of my daughters has been pestering me to get her a bra for weeks on end? Which of my daughters thinks she's so grown up she needs a bra?"

"I want one, too," piped up Rosie Ann.

"Of course you do, can't let your sister get ahead of you, can we?"

"I'm bigger than Rita so I should have my bra first."

"But I'm older so I should have first choice."

"I'm sure your father will make sure you both have a pretty new bra to wear. No need to fight about it. I haven't got time to take you if I'm going to get your new dresses finished in time for the fair, so you'll have to go with your dad. Live with it!"

"But it's not fa…"

"If you tell me it's not fair one more time you'll go without a bra until you're seventeen."

"That's the silliest threat I've ever heard!"

"Sillier than 'It's not fair'?"

"Mother!"

"Daughter!"

"Sister"

At which point all three were laughing helplessly.

"So if you're embarrassed to have your father help you buy your first bra and I can't go with you, what other solution can you think of?"

"Amazon?"

"A true child of the digital age. Think closer to home, Rita."

"You're being a teacher again, aren't you?"

"A complete failure as a teacher, or so it appears. There are five other solutions that I can think of offhand."

"Five… other…"

"We ask one of our sisters to come with us, right Mom?" crowed Rosie Ann.

"Bingo. At least one of you was listening when I talked about creative problem solving."

"They won't want to help!"

"Such a Negative Nellie. Try bribery - I bet you could fast talk your father into getting something nice for the sister who comes along to help."

"Now that part shouldn't be too hard, Rita."

"Just 'cause you're Daddy's favorite…"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"That's enough of that, ladies. Put your heads together and pick a sister. Then go and recruit her with promises of fame and fortune, or at least some new clothes."
 

"Can I help you, sir?"

"My younger daughters are here for their first bras. Cut it out, you two! A man can say the word 'bra' without having his daughters turn pink and hide their faces."

"Daddy!" came the stereo reply.

"Really, Daddy," announced Roslyn, "That's why you brought me along so you wouldn't have to say 'bra' in public."

"I'm a guy in touch with my feelings. I can say 'bra' any time I want."

"I bet you won't be saying it at the ranch with all the cowboys."

"You'd loose. Those cowboys are always speculatin' about how to remove a bra from a likely heifer."

"You're making it worse, Daddy. Behave yourself."

"Yes, dear. Help your sisters and I'll go look at manly power tools or something like that."

"No chain saws, you'd chop something important off."

"Like your allowance, maybe?"

"Daddy, we're in public."

"That's what happens when your mother lets me out all alone. I told her she should be the one to do this."

"We've got it all under control, come back in half an hour."

"Saved at last! Have fun, girls."
 

"Rosie Ann, you're wiggling like you have ants in your pants."

"Not my pants, Daddy. This thing itches!"

"I would be remiss if I didn't take this opportunity to say 'Be careful what you wish for - you might just get it.' You've been agitating for a bra for ages, now you want to complain because you're wearing a bra."

"I'd like to see you wear one, Daddy."

"I just bet you would, but it ain't gonna happen."

"It gets better soon, Rosie Ann," said sister Roslyn. "Pretty soon you won't notice it. Once you have something to fill it you won't want to be without it, really."

"That's easy for you to say."

"It's true, little sis."

"Mine doesn't feel all that bad, Rosie Ann," commented Rita. "My nipples were getting sensitive."

"You're embarrassing Daddy again, Rita."

"I thought he told us he could talk about bras without getting embarrassed."

"Maybe if you went whole hog and said brassiere it would be better."

"What's that?" asked Rosie Ann.

"It's the word that 'bra' comes from. You know how people hate to use long words when they can use a short one. It comes from an old French word for bodice. I found out that in modern French, 'brassiere' means a child's vest. Silly, huh?"

"Where'd you learn that? Mom sure didn't teach us that in school."

"The Internet, of course.

"See girls," Travis spoke up, "that's why you need an education, so you tell your sisters interesting and useless information and get one up on them."

"Daddy!"

This time the reply came in triplicate.
 

Chapter 8
"Mommy?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Why do we have to go so far for me to see the doctor?"

"Because the doctor works in the city and we live quite a ways away from it."

"And this doctor is one who knows lots of things about boys and girls, right?"

"Right. Maybe she can help you figure out why you feel like a girl when you were born like a boy."

"But I'm a girl. Everyone says so."

"And since you think you're a girl we treat you like a girl, but think - if someone came to the ranch to buy a girl goat so they can have her to provide milk, would they be happy if we gave them a boy goat and told them the goat thinks he's a girl?"

"Uh…"

"Could the boy goat give them milk like they wanted the goat to do?"

"That's silly! Boy goats don’t make milk, only mommy goats make milk."

"So there must be more to it than just thinking you're a girl, right?"

"I guess so…"

"It's not an easy thing to figure out. When you get to be as old as you are the difference becomes more important."

"But why?"

"Oh, honey - that's a pretty big question. That's just the way people are made. You know how your sisters changed when they got older, right?"

"Sure. They got breasts and stuff and had periods, but they aren't all that different."

"So they did, but you know that boys don't get breasts and periods, right?"

"I guess."

"Now come on, silly. You've seen the boy goats and the girl goats and know that there's a big difference. Same thing with the horses and the cows and the sheep and people."

"But I sure don't want to be a boy goat. That's gross!"

"The girl goats don't think so. We've been through this before, Rosie Ann; remember the boy goat's penis gets big and he puts it in the girl goat's vagina to make new babies. That's just the way it works for animals. It works that way for people, too, when they get old enough."

"It seems silly to me. I don't care if I ever have to do that stuff."

"You say that now, but when you get older your body is going to change your mind."

"But why?"

"Maybe the doctor can tell you. All I can say is that it's just the way things work."

"That's a dumb way to do things."

"You may be right about that, sweetie. You just may be right.
 

"You look exhausted, darling."

"Travis, on the whole I think I'd prefer wrassin' bulls to fighting traffic in the city. Can't those damn doctors have their office in the suburbs instead of downtown?"

"I'm convinced they do it to drum up more business. If you aren't crazy before you get there you will be by the time you find a place to park."

"You may be right!"

"So, how did it go?"

"The doctor thinks Rosie Ann is a happy, healthy, normal eleven year old girl."

"Really?"

"Really. I gather she was a bit surprised, most transgendered people have a whole pile of hangups and issues because of being transgendered. I guess we're doing something right."

"That's nice to know. So what should we be doing in the future."

"Endangering my mental health by driving Rosie Ann back for a few more visits. The doctor can't do anything more without talking to her a few more times."

"Maybe we can work it out so I can drive her some of those times."

"I like that better and better. By the way, I had to promise her we wouldn't let them drain her entire system of blood the next time. That child has been reading too many vampire stories."

"Can't blame her - I hated getting shots when I was a kid. Don't care too much for them now, either."

"Who would? If her bloodwork is OK, after the doctor gets to know Rosie Ann we can talk about testosterone blockers if she thinks it's the right way to go. I'd hate to see Rosie Ann end up a hulking six foot football player. Especially as I know she'll be agitating for a padded bra any day now. Now that Rita is developing it's only a matter of time."

"Going through that has been hard enough with the rest of the girls. How are we going to cope with Rosie Ann?"

"Rely on the doctor's advice, what else?"

"Makes me glad all I had to do was get used to a jockstrap when I was playing sports."

"You'd look cute in a thong, lover."

"I never could understand why anyone, man or woman, would want to walk around with a string up their ass."

"Not exactly practical when you're out ridin' the range, partner?"

"Or anyplace else. If you want sexy, you look best with nothing on at all."

"Glad you noticed."
 

"Happy Birthday, Rosie Ann!"

"How's it feel to be twelve, little sis?"

"You need to open that present first, Rosie!"

"No, the red box needs to be first!" Ramona instructed.

"No! Cake and ice cream first!"

"No way! Presents first!"

"Greedy girl!"

Chaos reigned for Rosie Ann's twelfth birthday. Big sister Ramona was back from college for the occasion and the Magnificent Seven were once again together. Naturally, when the cake came out and 'Happy Birthday' was sung the harmonies were as magnificent as the girls. By parental command, the presents waited until after the cake and ice cream, which waited until after the actual birthday meal.

Rosie Ann valiantly attempted to be mature about the whole thing, but those gaily wrapped boxes kept drawing her attention. At last she was installed in a comfy chair in the living room with her family gathered around her.

"Now, which one first?" Rosie Ann mused.

"I told you, the red one goes first," Instructed Ramona.

"Well if you insist!"

Scraps of paper went flying as Rosie Ann tore into the box.

"Huh? What the heck are these?" she asked in bewilderment. "They're squishy but…"

"Those, dear sister, are your brand new breast forms, the perfect gift for the girl who needs a little help up top."

"We all clubbed together to get you a really good set, at least until the doctor can start giving you girly pills." offered Raina.

"They're squishy!"

"They're supposed to be squishy. You want your boobies to bounce, don't you?" queried Roxy, which earned her a stern look from her mother.

"You gotta open the stripy box next, Rosie Ann," advised Rita.

"Does everybody but me know what's in these boxes?"

"You bet!"

"Nobody tells me anything!"

"It's a secret, silly!"

Once again, scraps of wrapping paper went flying.

"Ooh, sexy!" exclaimed Rosie Ann. "With bras like these I'm going to have to get a boyfriend."

"Ahem!" growled Travis.

"Oh Daddy! You're so easy to tease."

"I still have that baseball bat I bought for Ramona's boyfriends."

"You can keep it, I don't want to play baseball."

"I should know better. I can't win with all this feminine mystique floating around here."

"Poor Daddy. We love you anyway."

"Maybe you should go out and wrassel a bull or something to make you feel more masculine."

"Not before I finish opening my presents!"

"Maybe you should just give up and join all the rest of us women, Daddy."

"Oh no he won't!" warned Ruth. "I like him just the way he is, and don't you girls forget it!"

"Rosie Ann, open another present quick before we get distracted again!"

"Nice dress!"

"Pretty cool to get something new, right Rosie Ann? Being the youngest means always getting everyone else's hand-me-downs."

"I don't mind, but it is nice to get something new."

Eventually all the loot was opened and Rosie Ann ran up to her bedroom to put on her new clothes. At twelve she was starting to notice fashion and had regretted not being able to develop her own breasts like her sisters. The new breast forms at least made her look a bit more like a young girl, so they would have to do until she was old enough for hormone therapy.

Smiling at the pill bottle on her dresser - the one containing the anti-androgens - she figured they were the best birthday present of them all.