Thursday, September 19
I woke up frantically searching for more signs of pubic hairs, and was relieved that none had shown their ugly faces.
I've been slowly pushing the `girl' boundary every day at school. I started by wearing my hair a bit more girly every day -- brushing it a bit differently and more feminine. I'm wearing lip gloss at home, and even though it's pale pink, it's decidedly starting to stain my lips even when I'm not wearing it. On Monday I was trying to hide my ear studs. Now, I'm pulling my hair back behind my ears to show them off. Yesterday, I used some of the concealer to cover a little pimple/blemish, and worked it in neatly so that no one could REALLY tell unless they looked closely. Maybe I'll start working on my eyebrows tomorrow. Dunno...
Mom and I started the day by heading to the lab, where I peed in a cup and got the vampire treatment on my arm and finally got to gorge myself on a McD's gut grenade on the way to school. I actually got all this done and was only about a half hour late to school. Mom had to sign me in, so she and Ms. Weston got to visit again. I didn't listen in, but it sounded like they were talking about me (duh...) and Ms. Weston wanted to be sure I was OK, and Mom said something about `hormones' and Ms. Weston just chuckled and nodded. At that point, I couldn't take it anymore and headed off to 1st period Algebra, where I was late.
I'm sure I'll find some use for algebra in the future. That's what the tell me anyway. In the meantime, we pair up in two-person teams working on problems and Brianne and I are team mates so she was glad to see me show up. Of all the girls at school, Brianne is my closest friend and I should probably confide in her more, but I'm not sure why I don't. I could really use closer friends right now.
Note to self for 50 years from now -- Remember the character Olive that Emma Stone played in `Easy A'? Yeah, that's Brianne. Also note to self --- be sure to have a copy of Easy A handy 50 years from now. Will there still be Netflix? Hmmm....
Anyway, Brianne and I have nearly every class together, except for some reason she's taking French and I opted for Spanish, but that's it. So, while Ms. Westbury wasn't looking and we were supposed to be solving quadratic equations, I said, "I'm in the mental hospital again."
She said, "Are you serious????" Brianne remembers what a basket case I was when my Dad died, so there's that.
"No, not so, yeah, so... I need to talk. Can we talk? Maybe tell your Mom we need to do biology homework together?"
"What is it? You gotta give me something? Is it sexual? Don't tell me you lost your v-card????"
"No, f--you. It's not like that. It's sexual, but it's not sexual, you know?"
"No, I don't know. But yeah, I know. Can I tell anyone anything?"
"Yeah, tell `em Chris is the bitchenist guy in school and you're sooooo fucking lucky to hang with him."
"F you. Yeah, I'll come over. I'll tell my mother you're helping me with biology. They're shitting bricks that I'll flunk biology. If I don't become a doctor, my life is ruined. I might as well be a stripper. So yeah, Mom will drive me across town in a blizzard if she thinks it's worth 2 points on my bio grade."
Since it's a private school, we don't all live in the same neighborhood, but Brianne lives like 15 minutes from me, so yeah, it would be great if we all had drivers licenses, but for now, we have to rely on the Mom taxis.
"Dinner? Six?"
"Yeah. Can your Mom drive me home? My mom's got something tonite."
"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll text her between classes."
The rest of the day went as predicted. Biology, US History, a free period for `activities' but I just usually hang in the library, lunch, English Lit I, Spanish (Mi nombre es Chris. Desearía que mi nombre fuera Christy.), and computer sci (which is meaningless, since we all pretty much know more than the teacher.). Seven periods. Seven and one half hours. 8am until 3:30. Mind numbing. I texted Mom at free period and she said OK. Operation Brianne was a "go". All systems ready for launch.
Public schools apparently have PE. What a sh-t show that would be. We get by with a year of `health ed' in the 10th grade. Really looking forward to that. Anyway, it's a rich private school, so everyone does Pilates anyway.
Fuck... why am I in this mood today? Blood loss?
So, Brianne's mom drove her over at 5. I purposely left on my school shirt and shifted into a pair of androgynous gym shorts. Brianne's mom and my mom chatted politely for a bit (the two of them have like NOTHING in common) and Brianne's mom took off for whatever thingie she had to do. Brianne and I headed for the basement with our books and turned on the TV (which is permanently tuned to nothing interesting) and she bounced on the sofa and nearly screamed "OK. Spill!"
"Ahhh... Brianne... ahhh... OK... lemme figure out how to say this."
"Spill, bitch. It's not like I've got all day!"
"OK, what if... Chris... was.... Christy?"
That's took the air out of the room. Brianne looked at me like a lost puppy for a full minute and then said, "e...lab...or...ate...?"
So I told her the whole story, with three part harmony and a drum solo in the middle. Borrowing my sisters clothes. Mom finding me. Martha. The girlie wardrobe. Dr. Preston. The blood test. A weeks worth of narrative rolled up into about 2 minutes.
Brianne took like a minute to digest this, and then said, "Well, for starters, your makeup is for shit, girl."
We both started laughing and then she reached for me and we started hugging and then fell off the sofa onto the floor and couldn't contain ourselves in tears of laughter. Mom came downstairs it was so loud and said, "are you two OK?"
I could barely contain myself, and yelled, "Yes, Mom, Brianne is trying to give me makeup tips." And then we started laughing again. Mom just smiled and giggled and headed back up to the kitchen.
"So, are you going to come out of the closet?" She asked.
"I dunno. I'm talking with a therapist and maybe need to get some hormone work done. Mom hasn't said a thing to Ms. Weston, so as far as the school is concerned, I'm a boy named Chris."
"I have to tell someone. The Emmas need to know, at least, and Madison."
"Yeah, let's give it a few days. I'm still trying to work this thru in my head."
"I can't just SIT ON IT, girl."
"Yeah, OK, let's talk at lunch tomorrow. Maybe just the Emmas. Madison can be a bitch sometimes."
"Madison will be cool, plus she knows all the great makeup tips."
"You're treating me like your make-up doll, aren't you?"
"Yes, bitch. That's what you are. You're our fucking lab experiment. `They remade her from scratch. No expense was spared. She had powers and abilities far beyond normal women.' "
"Are you trying to quote from some 1960's TV show?"
"Yeah, like six billion dollar supergirl or something like that. Bionic bitch. You just made ninth grade interesting!!!"
We ran upstairs and Mom had dinner on the table. We giggled the whole way thru, and I told Mom that I'd spilled the beans to Brianna. Mom told Brianna that this was serious stuff, and Brianna nodded and said "yes ma'am" over and over, but I could tell she'd be on the phone as soon as she got home. Gossipy bitch. I loved her. She would choreograph my coming out party.
Mom and I drove Brianne home with not a scant bit of biology homework finished. I have no doubt Brianne is going to be a world renowned brain surgeon one day. Or may be a famous stripper.