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Story Notes:
This is a work of fiction, and is the property of the author. If there is another story out there like this, no copyrigt infrongement is intended, and this is strictly from the imaginatio of the author. The characters, places, and events, may not be fictional, but were not copied from any other story by any other author. © 2009 by Barbara Lynn Terry.
Author's Chapter Notes:
This is a continuing story in several parts, with several chapters to a part. There are no chapter names as such.

What Mother Didn't Know

by Barbara Lynn Terry

Part One

Chapter One

For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to be a girl. Maybe need to be would be more correct. I had just turned twelve years old in August. I have long, light brown hair that shimmers when light hits it. I have wide blue eyes, eyelashes any girl would die for, an oval face (I get that from my mother), and even a tiny figure. Not much of a figure, but enough of one not to be mistaken for a boy when I am dressed as a girl. My mother has never seen me dressed as a girl though, because I was never at home during the summer. I would go and stay with her best friend's family up north. There I was accepted as the girl I am, and was allowed to dress the part also. I always stooped down to get something, or pick up something that I dropped, I even stooped down to clean the oven, the cabinet doors below the sink, and to put the pots and pans away. I never bent over. I was always told it was bad for the back, and anyway stooping is more dignified and ladylike.

My mother always tried to correct the way I did things, telling me only girls did things that way. She was born in the late 1920's, and of course was so old fashioned. By the time I was born in the late 1940's, she had finished high school, and beauty school and was a licensed cosmetologist, as well as a very good cocktail waitress at one of the famous restaurants. One day while she was working in the beauty shop, I went there to ask her for a little money to see a movie. This was Saturday, and I wanted to see Walt Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. She gave me two dollars, and told me to be home by dinner.

I left the store, and went to the Warner theater. I paid my fifty cents for my ticket, and bought a small soda and a box of jujubes. I still had a dollar left. I went in and sat down. When the movie started, I sat and listened to every word, watched every scene closely, and tried to mimic them as they were saying their lines. Everybody in the theater booed at the evil stepmother, and cheered when the prince kissed Snow White to wake her up. When the movie was over, I headed to the bus stop and went home. We lived on the city's near north side, so I had to take a second bus to my corner where we lived.

I got off the bus, and waited for the traffic light to change. When it was green, I looked all ways to make sure no cars were coming, and the ones at the red lights were stopped. I got in the house, and tried to mimic the lines and emotions of the characters in the movie. Mother came home almost right behind me. I went in the kitchen and poured myself a glass of apple juice. As mother began getting out the pans to make dinner, she looked at me and smiled.

"How was the movie, dear?"

"It was good mom. Mom, when the evil stepmother was making her plans, and then became the woman selling apples, everyone booed in the theater, and when the prince kissed Snow White to wake her up, everybody cheered."

"Well, at least you had a good time. Dear, would you get me a couple of carrots and one thing of celery?"

I opened the refrigerator, and stooped down to open the drawer, and get out the vegetables mother wanted.

"Honey, only girls stoop down like that, and you're not a girl. Boys bend over to get things."

"Mother, I know you keep saying that, but I know some men that even stoop. Up north. They say it is better for your back, than bending is."

"Well, I just don't want you getting in any trouble with the boys, because they may think you're trying to act like a girl, and may hurt you. I am just looking out for you, dear."

"Yes mother, I know you are. But even in school they tell us to lift things from the floor with your knees, instead of your back, because then that helps lessen back fatigue and injuries."

"All right, but I want you to know that how you stoop, and pick things up from the side, is more a feminine thing than it is a guy's. Because when you stoop down dear, you keep your legs together. Only girls do that, that I know of."

"Mother, this is 1961, and things are a lot different than they were when you were a teenager. When you were in school, they had the great depression, and customs were different then. But today, we are a new generation that has learned to accept things as they are, and not necessarily what a man or a woman would do, or be. We even have a couple of gay kids in our class, and they are respected for being themselves. They never bother anyone, and even though there are a few kids who give them grief, they just go on like nothing bothers them. So I don't intend on having any trouble."

"Well, I was just looking out for you is all. Now, would you set the table for us, dear?"

"Yes mother."

When I was finished putting our plates, silverware, and napkins on the table, mother sat down with the cutting board, and the stew meat, and diced the beef into even smaller pieces. When she was finished, she took the cutting board over to the stove, and pushed the meat in to the small roaster. She rinsed off the cutting board, and started cutting the vegetables. She put them in the roaster with the meat. She mixed up some gravy and put that in also. By this time the oven was preheated, and she mixed up the vegetables and stew meat, and put the pan in the oven. Then she poured herself a cup of coffee, and sat down to have a cigarette. I sat at the table with my legs together, and my hands folded. Every now and then, I would brush an errant hair away from my mouth, or eyes, or I would just flip my head and my hair would go back in place.

"Honey, I am concerned by all these feminine movements you have. Like just now, brushing the hair away is definitely a feminine gesture, and the way you flip your hair back into place is too. I don't know if you noticed it or not, but you have a definite feminine swivel to your hips when you are walking. So I need to ask you this question. Are you gay?"

"No mother."

"Then why all of the feminine gestures?"

"Mother, I don't see anything feminine. I just do what I do, and every body movement, and every action just comes natural."

"Natural? Not for a boy they aren't. I am getting more concerned because you are twelve years old, and even though when you were younger it may have been cute, but it isn't cute any more. You are going to grow up to be a man, and you have to start acting like one."

"Mother, I can't say that I am doing anything feminine. Remember that when you were growing up, men were men, and women were women. But like I said too, this is 1961, and times are different. What was feminine when you were growing up, isn't necessarily feminine today. People today mother, are individuals, and we act like individuals. We are no longer living the life someone else dictates for us. We are living our unique, individual lives. When you were growing up, it was expected you act the way society dictated. But today, things you see as feminine, are out of date, and no longer matter.

"Today mother, there are men who are nurses, women who are mechanics, and everybody lives the way they want, as long as they aren't hurting anyone. See mother, this is the age of Camelot, as they call President Kennedy's administration, and we are young at heart and in body. We have no illusions of grandeur, no uptight sense of right or wrong. We live for today, because tomorrow may never come. So the things you see as feminine, we see as normal and natural."

She took a deep breath, sipped her coffee, and took a drag from her cigarette. "Well, I still say you're acting like a girl."

I just rolled my eyes to the ceiling and said, "oh mother." Then I giggled.

Yes, I was doing feminine things. The way I walked, the way I stooped, the way I held my hands, and the way I brushed or flipped my hair away from the front of my face. When I had groceries, or packages in my hands, I was careful not to walk up the stairs with my feet pointing in front of me, but always walked up the stairs kind of a little sideways. Even my voice was high for a "boy" my age. What mother didn't know, is that I was not going to correct any of my movements. If anything, they were going to get more pronounced, and more fluid. By the time I was out of high school, I would be so fluid in my movements, that I could go anywhere as a woman, and not have a problem.

This was the last week in August, and I had just come back from up north on Friday. School would start on Tuesday, the day after Labor Day. I went to my room, and hung up my clothes. I put my soiled underwear in the laundry, and folded and put away the clean ones. When I started back to the living room, I could hear mother on the phone talking to my aunt. She was my mother's only living sister, my other aunt had died as an infant in a car accident. I stopped to listen what mother was saying.

"So I don't know what to do, Hazel. I have talked to him and pointed out the things I was concerned about, but he says that this generation accepts these as normal for everyone. What do I do?" There was a pause, and I couldn't hear aunt Hazel, but then mother spoke again. "All right Hazel, I'll try that. Maybe that will help him see that what he is doing is noticeably feminine." She sighed again, and hung up the phone. I came in nonchalantly, and said I was finished putting my clothes away.

"Sit down, Ronnie, we have to talk." I sat down on the couch, and she looked at me, took a deep breath, and began her lecture. "Ronnie, I was just talking to aunt Hazel, and I explained to her the things we talked about, and she said that maybe you should see a psychiatrist. He will help you get past these feminine gestures."

"He, mother? Why can't it be a lady psychiarist? There are women who are psychiatrists too, you know."

"Ronnie, I will not argue. Your aunt Hazel gave me the name of a very good child psychiatrist at county hospital. I will make an appointment, and I want you to see him. His name is Dr. Johnston. Now just go and do something. I can't call his office until Monday anyway."

"Mother, Monday is Labor Day, you'll have to call him on Tuesday." She just groaned.

I went back to my room, and took out the book Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. I laid on my bed on my tummy, and read. Mother came by and saw me, then she said."Honey, only a girl lies like that on her bed, when she is either writing, reading, or even doing homework. I should know, because that is the way I laid on my bed, when I did those things. So sit up straight like the young man you are. And what are you reading? Little Women? Don't you like stories like Hucklberry Finn, or cowboy stories?"

I flinched when she called me a young man. I couldn't figure her out though. Up north I was accepted as the girl I am, by everybody who knew me, but my own mother felt I was an embarrassment or something. I would have to talk to some of my girl friends tomorrow. They would know how I could get around this. I wasn't too keen on seeing a psychiatrist though. All they wanted to do was take your money, and give you medicine for a pretend psychosis. A friend of mine went to see a psychiatrist, and the psychiatrist said he was bipolar, whatever that is, and he has to take a lot of medicine for what the doctor said. And she even wants to tell me what I should read. I am definitely going to have to talk to Cindy and Bobbie tomorrow and see what I can do. I didn't want to give up being this sweet girl for the few months I would be here with mother. Mostly, I would stay up north and go to school there. But here, mother wanted to dictate my life.

Chapter Two

I didn't know how long I could take any more of this. Mother always taught me never to judge others, and treat others like I wanted to be treated, but here she was judging me, and telling me I needed to see a psychiatrist. I had a lot to think about. Should I call grandma Dolly and see if I can go back up north? Should I tell her daughter Caroline, my mother's best friend, (and the mother I should have had) about what mother is doing? What should I do? Well, tomorrow I will talk to Cindy and Bobbie and find out how to handle this situation. We have always been there for each other, and maybe they can tell me what to do. It was getting late, so I put the book mark on the page I was reading, and closed the book.

I went in the bathroom and ran my bath water. I put in some of mother's bubble bath, and when the tub was filled, I got in and sat down slowly. Mother had a big flesh colored sponge, and I used that to squeeze the water all over me. After being in the bath, and having soaked every part of my body with the fragrant water, I washed all over, and rinsed off. I got out of the tub, and patted myself dry as my girl friends had taught me up north. I then wrapped the towel around me like they showed me, and went to my room. I had just gotten in to my pajamas when mother came in. She gave me a kiss on the forehead, and asked me if I had a handkerchief, and then said good night. After she closed the door, I got out of bed, and out of my pajamas. I took one of the nighgowns Renee had given me. It was lavender in color, and had lace around the hem and the sleeves. It came just to my knees, and I got back in bed.

When I woke up, the sun was coming in through the window. I got up, and changed back into my pajamas, and went to take my bath. Mother came by just as I was putting in her rose scented bubble bath. She looked like she was going to say something, but then just went on to her room. When she came back out, she came in the bath room, and sat on the toilet and started talking.

"Ronnie, I am worried. Only a girl takes a bubble bath, and only a girl wears a lavender nightgown to bed, especially one with lace on it. Where did you get all of those girl's clothes from?"

"I got them from my friends up north. See mother, I don't see myself as having feminine movements, because they are natural to me. I know you keep telling me that I am a boy (I flinched), but that is only on the outside. Do you remember George Jorgensen who went to Copenhagen, Denmark, and came back Christine Jorgensen? I am like she is. Mother, I know you think that I would have problems being a physical girl, but I don't. Even David says I am pretty. Mother, you taught me to accept others, and treat others like I want to be treated. But here you are, treating me like I am an embarrassment to you, or something. Why can't you accept me for who I am?"

"Ronnie, you are not going to be a female. Women in this world are treated worse than some criminals. We are second class citizens, we get paid less than a man for the same job, we are abused and cheated on by our men, and we will never amount to anything in a man's world. I cannot have my first born child be a female in any manner. I should throw those clothes out, so you have no choice but to wear your normal clothes. And if the girls up north are giving you their clothes to wear, I should forbid you to go back up there. Ronnie, you are a boy, and in today's society, boys don't wear dresses, or skirts, or bras, or panties, or nightgowns, and boys today don't take bubble baths. If you want to know the difference between boys and girls, I will show you. I will explain everything in detail and why, so you can see that you can never be a female anyway. I love you, and I don't want to see you get hurt."

"So in other words, you want me to live your life, the way you dictate it, and you don't care how many of my toes you have to step on to get me to listen. Mother, if you throw my dresses, skirts, under things, and nightgowns away, and forbid me to go back up north, I will run away. I have enough know how to make it on my own. The only thing I will miss is school. If you can't accept me for me, then I am ashamed to call you my mother. Besides, it isn't that I can't be female, it's just that you want a physical son that you can brag about." For that remark, she slapped my face. I ran to my room crying.

Mother came up to my room, and sat on my bed. "I'm sorry, dear, but you can't be a female. It just isn't possible."

"That shows how much you know. If Christine Jorgensen can be female after surgery, so can I. You just don't," I sniffled a little, "love me. If you really loved me, you would make sure that I was happy, and not happy the way you dictate, but by being the physical girl I am inside."

"And that's another thing too. You can never have children because you don't have the proper parts, and you can never have a monthly cycle. Ronnie, I am only trying to let you down easy, because being a woman isn't easy."

"Mother, did you hear what you just said? You have a high school diploma, and a certificate of cosmetology, and you are good at what you do. But I happen to know that there are women that are born barren. They can't have children and they can't have a monthly cycle. But that doesn't make them any less of a woman. No mother, your argument doesn't make it. You just want me to stay a boy so you can brag to people that you have a son. Mother I can't be that son, you so badly want. If you can't bring yourself to let me be who I truly am, then I have to leave. I can't live here like this and be sad. If you really love me, and you really want me to be happy, then you would accept me for who I truly am, and let me be this girl screaming inside of me to be seen, and loved, and nurtured. Why can't you see that?"

"Well, I see this isn't getting us anywhere. Get your school clothes ready for Tuesday, and I will make an appointment for you with Dr. Johnston at county hospital. You need help, Ronnie, and I will not throw those female clothes out, but I want you to promise me that you will only wear them in the house. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"Mother, please go downstairs and have a cup of coffee, and a cigarette. I will be down in about an hour."

She left, and I got up and went to my closet. I took out my cream colored dress, a full slip, and picked up a pair of pumps with two inch heels. I went to my dresser, and took out a pair of lavender panties, a lavender bra with lace around the cups, and a pair of stockings. I went in the other drawer and took out my garter belt.

I laid everthing on the bed, except for the shoes, and went to take a quick shower. I used mother's perfumed soap, and I was finished in about ten minutes. I patted myself dry, and wrapped the towel around me like a girl would. I went back in my bedroom, and I took out the cosmetics I was given. Mother hadn't found these. I put on the bra, panties, and full slip, and sat down at the table in my room, and took out a small round mirror I could use to apply makeup. I put on black eyeliner, blue/pink eye shadow, and black mascara. Then I put on a light tan foundation, and then I brushed a light dusting of powder over that. I stepped into the dress, and zipped it half way up, and took a hanger and zipped it up the rest of the way. I applied a light pink lipstick, and blotted it and then put a little more on, and blotted that. I sat down on my bed and rolled one stocking up one leg and did the other leg with the other stocking. I stepped in to the pumps. and looked at myself in the bathroom, full length mirror. Everything was straight, so I went downstairs to show mother what her oldest daughter looked like.

I must have been quieter than I thought, or she was so wrapped up in thinking about me, she didn't hear me come in. I walked past her, and stood where she could see me. I put my thumb and forefingers on each side of the dress, and did a twirl for my mother.

"Mother, my name is Susan Marie, and I am your oldest daughter." her mouth just opened so far, I was afraid she would attract every bug there was. "Mother, close your mouth, you are not a Venus flytrap."

She stood up uneasily, and tottered for a bit, until she got her bearings, and then came over to me, and did a walk around, looking at me from all angles and sides. She had her hand on her mouth, as if in deep thought.

"Ronnie...I mean, Susan Marie, how did you get everything so perfect?"

"Mother, I am a girl, whether you want to admit that or not, and when I go to see Dr. Johnston, I am wearing one of my female outfits. What you see now, is who I truly am. Now do you think you can accept me as I am?"

"You still have to go to school as a boy though. They won't let you dress this way there."

"Oh you are so right, mother. The old archaic rules of girls are girls and boys are boys. Just what does that mean, anyway? Does anybody actually know the answer?"

"I want you to make sure you don't go outside dressed like this. I don't even like you doing it in the house, but if you must, you must. I will wait until I talk with Dr. Johnston. But for right now, you can dress like this in the house, but not outside."

I stayed in my outfit for the rest of the evening. Mother usually sat next to me when we watched Ed Sullivan, but tonight she sat on the other end of the couch. I was very hurt by this. If my mother loved me so much, why can't she accept me as I am? This was all very confusing. My mother wanted me to behave a certain way towards others, but when it came right down to it, she couldn't or didn't want to, practice what she preached. I also wondered if she would go with me to watch the Labor Day parade, downtown. Well that was tomorrow. The day after tomorrow, was the first day of school.

Mother said she didn't want me dressed like this when I went out. I wonder what she would say to tight jeans, a v-neck, western shirt, and my sandals? It was something to think about. A lot of girls are dressing androgynously these days. All my girl friends have at least three or four androgynous outifts. I will try it with a little mascara, and face makeup. That is an idea. After Ed Sullivan was over, I tried to give mother a hug and kiss good night, but she pulled away from me. That even hurt worse than her not sitting by me. I said good night, but she didn't say anything. I told her I still loved her, but she just went in the kitchen, and started crying.

I went in my room, and got out my lavender nightgown, and a pair of panties. I went in the bathroom, and ran my bubble bath. As I went back in my room, I could hear her through her sobs, asking why, why. I got out of my dress, and hung it up, I washed my stockings and panties though, in the bathroom sink. The tub by this time was filled, so I turned off the water, and sat down slowly. I sponged water all over me, and when I was thoroughly drenched, I washed all over. I didn't hear mother come up, but I heard her bedroom door close. When I finished with my bath, I rinsed off, and patted myself dry. I put on my panties and nightgown, and decided to see if she would talk to me.

I knocked on her door, and she didn't say anything. "Mother, let me come in so we can talk." Still nothing. She was still crying, so I went to my room, and got in bed. I wasn't going to feel guilty about her crying over this, because she was the one who told me to accept others, and not judge who, or what they are. The only thing I was sorry for, was that she didn't practice what she preached. It didn't make any sense. I turned off my lamp, and laid down, and went to sleep.

Chapter Three

When morning came, I got up, and went in the bathroom to run my bath water. I looked for the bubble bath but it was nowhere to be found, even mother's perfumed soap was gone. So, she wants me to be a man. What kind of a man? Well, anyway I had a bar of perfumed soap I had brought with me, but I didn't use it all that much except for special occasions. I went back to my room to get it out of my suitcase. I took the wrapper off of it, and took it in the bathroom with me. I sat down in the tub, and washed all over. Since I couldn't have a bubble bath, I decided I was going to smell pretty anyway. Don't look at me like that, she started it.

When I was finished rinsing off, I patted down, and then wrapped the towel around me female fashion. I went in my room, and got dressed. I opened my top dresser drawer, and took out my rose colored panties, cami, and from the other top drawer I took out a pair of stockings. I opened the third drawer and took out a pair of my jeans that had a rose on the left back pocket, and embroidered roses from the knees down to the hem of each leg. I took out a very nice embroidered v-neck western shirt, and went to my closet to get my sandals.

I put on my panties, and sat down to put my makeup on. I put on my black mascara, and then a light foundation, and powdered that over lightly. I finished getting dressed, and went to the kitchen. Mother was not there this time, well, not yet anyway. I took out the bacon, eggs, and put one slice of bread in the toaster. I put two strips of bacon in the frying pan, and used another to make my eggs. When the bacon was almost done, I popped the toast down. I was eating my breakfast when mother came in the kitchen. Now my mother is only thirty two years old, but today she look twice that. She went over to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup of coffee, and sat down and took out a cigarette and lit it.

"Ronnie," she said matter of factly. "You are not leaving this house dressed like that. Those are obviously girl's jeans, and that is obviously a girls pullover v-neck shirt." She looked under the table, and saw my sandals. "And your sandals have a higher heel and are obviously girl's sandals. Now, if you want to go the parade with your aunt, uncle, cousins, and me, you had better put something on that says you're a boy." Just then the doorbell rang.

I got up to answer it, but mother pushed me aside, and ran to the door and opened it. Aunt Hazel and her family were here. Mother looked back at me, and with her head, motioned me to disappear. Aunt Hazel stood there for a few seconds before she said anything.

"Well sis, are you going to let me in?"

"Oh, uhm, yes, uhm please come in."

"Where is Ronnie, Marge?"

"Uhm he's uhm, kind of getting ready."

"I'm ready mother," and I went in the living room. Aunt Hazel took a look at me, and like my mother put a finger to her mouth, and looked at me from all sides. My uncle Martin didn't say anything, and my cousins were silent too.

"I was just telling Ronnie to go change into some boy clothes."

"Sis, there is nothing wrong with these clothes. They are androgynous looking, and a lot of young guys are wearing embroidered things now. I think he looks all right to go to the parade, and we are going out to eat after. So there is really nothing wrong with what he has on."

Mother's mouth just opened, and her eyes got really wide. "But Hazel, these are obviously girl's clothing. The zipper on the jeans even closes to the left."

"Yes I see that. But nobody will notice in that huge crowd. Besides they are there to see a parade not someone else's clothes."

"Well then look at this." She showed aunt Hazel where it said Levi Women's Wear on the back right pocket. "Now don't tell me nobody is going to notice that."

"No sis, they won't. It is small enough to actually be ignored even in the supermarket. Marge, listen, Ronnie is just going through a stage." Why do they always say that? "He will grow out of it."

All this time, my cousins were giving me the thumbs up, and my uncle Martin who is never at a loss for words, was eerily silent. Aunt Hazel told everybody we should be going, because parking is going to be a problem. We all left the house, and got into aunt Hazel's car, and we went downtown. We were lucky to find a parking place near Gimbel's. After parking the car, we all headed the 2 blocks to where the parade would be. As we got to our spot that we picked, Cindy saw me and came over by us. She looked at my mother.

"Excuse me, but can Ronnie come over and watch the parade with us? We're right over there." She waved to her mother, and she waved back.

"Sis, let him go with his friends. We can keep an eye on him from here."

"Well, I am against it, but I guess it would be all right. I want you to know young man, we are watching you."

I left with Cindy, and when we were away from mother, I let out a big sigh. "Thank you for rescuing me, Cindy. Mother has gotten really mad at me lately. She found the clothes you and Bobbie, and the other girls up north gave me, and she went ballistic. She even wanted me to change out of these clothes."

Cynthia Marks was my height, with long, easily flowing, blonde hair. She had wide blue eyes, and her skin was flawless. She looked at my clothes, and had only one thing to say.

"You should have worn a bra. That would have really set her off. Does she know that you are really a girl inside?"

"I have been trying to tell her, but she says I can never be female because I can't have kids, and I can't have a monthly. She even told me that women are second class citizens, and get paid less than men do for the same job, and that women are abused by their men, and women will never amount to anything in a man's world."

"Does she believe all that? My mom has been married to my dad for 16 years, and he has never once abused her. He treats her as an equal in our house, asking for advice on this or that. Why does your mother think all that grabage is true?"

"I don't know. Even my aunt Hazel said there is nothing wrong with these clothes."

"Ronnie, you would even look and sound like a girl, even if you were dressed in guy clothes. You are that feminine looking, which is a good thing. Listen, I have an idea."

She told me her idea, and we went over by her mother, and we greeted each other, and then we just talked about the things mother had said. Cindy's mother was the same age as my mother, but she had a very accepting, and open mind.

"Ronnie, you go and see this psychiatrist. But you be a lady at all times. Keep your knees together when you are sitting, and always smooth your dress or skirt behind you, as you sit down. Keep your back straight, and keep your hands folded in your lap. Let me know exactly what you talk about, because then I can give you some pointers to take with you the next time."

"All right, Mrs. Marks, and thank you." She said I was welcome, and then we heard the sirens that said the parade was starting. While we waited for the first of the parade to pass us by, some clowns came by. One of them even blew up a ballon, in the shape of a poodle, and handed it to me.

"Here you go, young lady. Don't forget to take her for a walk now." I giggled, because he was so funny. But the balloon I knew, wouldn't hold air after a couple of days, but I treasured it. Then the police band came by, and we all clapped, followed by the first high school band. We clapped. There were acrobats too, and I was just awed by their timing. Then, we saw a guy dressed in a gorilla suit, acting like an ape. We laughed and giggled, and when he came by us, he moved his head from side to side, and then put a "paw?" to his mouth, and started jumping up and down, and making the noises a gorilla would make. We laughed, and giggled, and laughed some more. Then he went down the line a ways. This was the most fun I have ever had at a Labor Day parade. One of the boy scout troops came by, and we clapped, and the local girl scouts were right behind them. We clapped some more, and then another high school band from our state capitol came by. They were playing a selection of Bach, and it was very beautiful, listening to them play. I had lost myself in the music, and Cindy brought me out of it, by saying she had tried to talk to me for the last four minutes.

"I'm sorry, Cindy, but I was just getting into the music. It was beautifully played." Cindy's mother agreed. As the middle of the parade started to pass us, Bobbie and her mother came over, and stood by us. Cindy filled her in on what my mother was doing. Bobbie Granger was my age, and had long, light brown hair, and wide blue eyes. Her mother was thrity four years old, two years older than my mother.

"Ronnie, just be you. I'm sorry your mother doesn't understand, or refuses to understand, but you know we are your friends, and if you ever need anyone to talk to, just come by us, or even our mothers if we're not home. We have all accepted you for who you are, and if anybody had the vision to see, they would see you can never be a boy, or even a man. You are too much a girl, to be anything else. Even my dad said you were very ladylike, without even trying. That means you are a girl, because everything comes so naturally to you. Even those creeps that tried to give you a hard time, were suddenly respectful too. So you see, Ronnie, that your mother is wrong. Look, my birth control pills make me sick, and my mother wants to throw them out. I can give them to you, and you could take them, because there is estrogen in them. You would have to take a lot, like for a long time, before anything could be noticed, but you can have them."

"Thank you, Bobbie, but my mother would find them and throw them out."

"Then you can keep them at my house, and I will bring a thing of them with me. You can take them on the way to school, at lunch, and on the way home. I have a whole box full, and I keep getting them. So, tell you what, we will make it so that in a couple of years, two or three at the most, you take these pills, and you will see that you are starting to develop like a girl should."

"Thank you, Bobbie, that is very nice of you. I was wondering what I could do though to show mother in the meantime, how much of a girl I really am."

"Tell you what, girlfriend, you let us think on that. I'm sure that between us, and our mothers, we can come up with something."

The parade was finally over, and we all hugged, and said our see ya's, and I went back by mother and aunt Hazel. "We saw you were doing a lot of talking over there. What were you all talking about?"

"Something you wouldn't understand mother. It's called girl talk, you know about monthly visitors, and having kids, and just gossiping about this or that." I could see her steaming, but my mother is one for appearances, so she would wait until we got home. My cousins just giggled and laughed, and my aunt Hazel smiled.

Chapter Four

We all got into aunt Hazel's car, and we went to IHOP. IHOP did more than just serve pancake breakfasts, they served lunch as well and even dinners. Most of them were open twenty four hours. When we walked in, the hostess asked how many, and aunt Hazel said eight. They pushed two tables together, and I sat next to my cousins, while the adults sat opposite of us. When the waitress asked if we were ready to order, we all said we would have whatever the special was. The special today was, two pancakes, two strips of bacon, two eggs, and toast. We also ordered orange juice and milk for my couisins and I, and the adults ordered coffee.

We sat there talking about the parade, and what we liked about it. I told them that when the band from the capitol had played that music from Bach, I had just lost myself in the music, and didn't hear what Cindy was saying. I even told them about how funny the guy in the gorilla suit was, and what he said. Mother just rolled her eyes to the ceiling. When we were through, mother didn't light up a cigarette, because my aunt Hazel and uncle Martin didn't smoke.

My aunt Hazel was a very good lady, and God fearing. But she wasn't a Bible thumper, and didn't preach to others that what they were doing was wrong. She was a little older than my mother by about two years, and my mother's only living sister. Aunt Hazel always had a beaming smile, and was always willing to help if she could. My uncle Martin was a land developer and building contractor, and always had business. Sometimes he had business so much he had to refuse a few orders.

We went back to aunt Hazel's car, and after we were all in, she drove us back home. When we got in the house, mother right away had to be so condescending. I started to go to my room, but she stopped me.

"Just a minute, young lady. Where do you think you are going? Sit down, we are going to have this out once and for all. I want to know exactly what you and your friends were talking about. Don't give me that girl talk business either."

"Well, if you must know, I told them what you said about a woman's place in this world."

"What did you say, Marge?" Aunt Hazel asked inquringly.

"Well, I was telling Ronnie that he could never be a female because..." She explained everything to aunt Hazel, and even aunt Hazel looked at mother with an incredulous, wide eyed look. "And, that he could never be female anyway, because it is just not possible."

"All right sis, but women have come a long way in the last few years. Even though I don't think Ronnie should be acting like a girl either, I do know that letting him dress like one now, will get it out of his system. Then he won't want to ever do it again, because he has tried it, and found it just wasn't for him."

"Why does everybody think I will outgrow being the girl I am? I don't understand all of you. You tell me to treat others the way I want to be treated, and then you go and treat me just the opposite. I know from my catechism, that whatever measure you give on earth, you will receive three times as much in heaven. So, if you think this is just a stage, then why have I been like this, since I can remember? Why does everybody want me to be someone I can never be?"

"Well, you are young yet. You don't know the things adults do, or the pleasures we get from certain things. When you are our age, you will see that this was just a passing phase."

"No aunt Hazel. I mean, you have been good to me and mother, but I just have to be who I am. It doesn't matter what kind of a body I have, it is who I am in my soul that makes me the girl I am."

"But Ronnie, God put you in the body of a boy for a reason. You should be grateful for that."

"No aunt Hazel, God may have made my soul, but He did not make this body. I have been studying these things on my own at the library, and I read about genes, chromosomes, hormones, and the effect all of this has on a person's life. It is the father's genes that say what the body type is going to be, and it is the hormones that while we are in the womb, tells us who we are and who we are going to be. We can't change this, whether you may think it is a stage or not, it cannot be changed, because if it is, then we lead a very unhappy life. How many here want me to be unhappy? I am twelve years old. I have been dressing and being a girl ever since I can remember, and everytime I have to wear stiff, itchy boy clothes to school, my skin itches something terrible. I don't understand why everyone is against who I am."

"How long have you been dressing as a girl?"

"Since I was old enough to know the difference bewteen girls and boys. Like around seven years old."

"You knew the difference between girls and boys at seven? That is remarkable. Who taught you all of that?"

"My girl friends up north and here. Mother wasn't interested in teaching me, so I asked my girlfirends a lot of questions, and they answered them. That's when I got my first library card, and started reading books on human anatomy and reproduction. I found out a lot. So I figured that since I can't have children, and I can't menstruate, I was born barren. That doesn't make me any less of a girl because I have a different package. Aunt Hazel. I know that this body is male, but that is where anything of a "boy" ends. I am female in my soul, and if you knew your Bible the way you say, then you know the soul is not necessarily the same as the body sometimes."

"Well maybe, but you have to admit that you haven't been dressing as a girl, and you haven't shown any interest in boys."

"Aunt Hazel, I have been dressing as a girl, and with my girl friends. Everybody but this family knows and accepts me for who I am. Remember Aunt Hazel, do unto others, as you may have them do unto you. Mom you taught me that, and yet here you are not practicing what you preach. Why?"

"Well, I'm not going to throw out your female clothes, and I will allow you to go up north. But I..." I looked at her with a frown. "I...oh I don't know. I will wait for Dr. Johnston to tell me what I should do."

"Mom, while Aunt Hazel is here, I am telling you now, that I will see Dr. Johnston, dressed as the girl I am. I think he is going to want to see that anyway. But I will not stand for any lectures from him, and I will not stand for any thing that he says, that may be against me being the girl I am."

"Well I guess that would be all right, but as soon as you get home young lady, you are changing into your normal clothes."

"Mom, did you just hear yourself? You said young lady."

"I...see you've got me twisting my words now. What do you want of me?"

"Just the love of a mother to her oldest daughter, me."

"Marge, we have get going. But I want your promise that you won't do anything physical to her," she said pointing to me. "I have been watching her, and no boy can be that feminine just going through a phase. There is always a slip up here or there unconsciously. Ronnie hasn't slipped up once. And I have noticed something else too, her voice is high like a girl's."

"Well his voice hasn't started changing yet."

"Oh yes, it certainly has, that is the voice of a teenage girl, and it will get a little higher too. Maybe Ronnie is right. We know that we have a soul, but it doesn't say that a male has to have a man's soul, and it doesn't say that a female has to be a woman's soul. Most of us have souls that match our bodies, but I have read where there are some whose souls are in direct conflict with their bodies. When this happens sis, the soul takes refuge in the dominant gender. In Ronnie's case, that gender is female."

"Hazel, you are not a psychiatrist, and until I am told this by Dr. Johnston, Ronnie is still my son, and will dress like my son."

"Well, you do what you want. But I am telling you that this is not the way to handle this. You listen to this psychiatrist, but if he is against Ronnie being who she is, he isn't much of a psychiatrist. We have to leave, sis." She gave mother a hug, and they were gone.

"Good night mother. Sweet dreams, because I know I am going to."








 

Chapter End Notes:

This story is somewhat bout me, but I have used writer's privilege anddramatized a little here and there. Just a little tho, so that most of the story is just how it happened. When I write my final auobiography, you will see a slight difference, but only slightly. The woman I have been using in my stories that I call mother, except for here, was my mother's best friend that lived with her family up north. I just needed to get that out, because my real mother was a total "B". And I do mean totally. Thank you. Barbara

To be continued... (Incomplete)
Barbara is the author of 1 other stories.

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