Daryl/Zee: So, This Is Weird...

...  I mean, I've been looking at a lot of posts here lately and thinking "How can you post that when there's a good chance the other person will read it, even if they say they won't?", but here I am, apparently feeling like my position as the person with the messiest personal life on the blog has been challenged, and doubling down.

So, you all know, Cary, who was Elaine before I was, and who has been "raising" Elaine and then Krystle as Mackenzie ever since.  He's also kind of the guy who winds up as first point of contact for Inn visitors who need someone to believe them, with an ad in the little guidebook which also includes a card with login details for this here blog.  Most of the time, folks just need to be reassured that this is real, but you can handle it, no matter how extreme the change may seem, and Cary's the guy to give it to them, a friendly white guy in his 60s who seems to be running his little hot dog truck as a hobby to the point where he can close up and give folks his full attention if need be, or call in Krystle/Mackenzie.

Someone needed it bad yesterday.  I gather they'd started out a young white guy who got turned into a petite Afro-Latina girl and in less than twenty-four hours their best friend - who I guess was kind of the same to start but became a tall, muscular, black college athlete - had convinced them they might as well try sleeping together, given the situation, and then talked them into a bikini and sort of paraded them around the beach the next day.  When she got to Cary, this person was kind of shell-shocked, and with Mackenzie out of town with friends, he called me to see if I could talk to them.  I said I would, but as Cary was talking to me, they had fallen asleep in one of Carl's Adirondack chairs.  Apparently, they had never gotten to sleep the previous night.

Not having anything planned for the day, I said I'd be up as soon as I could, and looked up the nearest car rental place.  I don't drive a lot as Zee, but there aren't that many trains or buses between Boston and Portland and I'd want to be able to put Cary on speaker if he called while I was in transit.  He didn't, but when he arrived there, there was a guy like he described trying to lead a girl away by the wrist.  A few guys from the beach were trying to stop him.  I sighed and slipped off my sandals, grabbing heels and sunglasses from my bag; it wouldn't get me up to his height, but if Cary was right, he might still be intimidated by an Angry Black Woman if I sent the right signals.

I made sure the heels made a lot of noise on the sidewalk and gave my best Angela Basset "what do you think you're doing?" as I approached.  He said something like "she's with me" and I stepped in a little closer, making it clear I knew he could hurt me but that he didn't dare.  "I don't know who you really are or who you are now, but you do not want to alienate the only person who does on your first day."  Obviously not what he expected to hear, because he let go of his friend, who hurried back to the stand and Cary.  Cary said I would take them to his house and they could borrow some clothes from Mackenzie's closet, since they just had a little handbag with their new wallet and phone.

They were breathing heavily as they got into the passenger seat of the rental, and I asked if they were okay.  "No!  I'm a girl, and black, and I'm not saying those are bad things, but it's really weird for me, and I let my friend fuck me in my new pussy, and who even are you?"

Keeping my eye on the road, I reached one hand out.  "I'm Zariyah, or Zee for short.  Started out as a Daryl, been an Elaine and a Magda in between, and let me tell you, it's really easy to make bad decisions with a bunch of new hormones.  I gave up everything for a man who wound up not being worth it.  But you can get through it.  Cary, the guy at the hot dog stand, he did, got his old life back, and helps others cope besides."

They grasped my had warily, introduced their new and old identities, and seemed surprised when I stopped at Cary's house so soon.  "New England towns are pretty small."  I got them inside and found some sweats in the laundry; they seemed relieved by the shapelessness, though I said they were probably going want something else soon with it being a hot day.

Then we told each other about ourselves, and they seemed worried about how completely I'd taken to female identities, and I said it sometimes felt strange to me as well, and one of the things they'd have to do until they changed back was differentiate between rash, impulsive, and reasonable under the circumstances.

Once they'd calmed down, I drove them back to the Inn.  The "boyfriend" wasn't there, so I helped them go through their inherited luggage, explaining that it would probably be wise to pick up where their predecessor left off with their birth control pills, looking their new life up online to see what could be learned, and helping write a letter to the person taking over their old life.  They gave me some side-eye when I offered make-up tips, but I pointed out this was something they were going to be expected to know soon.  I reflected that it was kind of crazy that, outside this blog, we don't really have a support network for people who just got changed.  A lot of people text back and forth with the next folks up and down their line, but they aren't that much more experienced than newbies, and it was really striking how much someone like me who had been there before could really make these crucial first steps go a lot better.  Honestly, I wonder how many people aren't even resilient enough to fake things and wind up in situations where they go into a spiral and can't get back to their real lives.  I've kind of always assumed that the folks like me who post on this blog are the ones who got into the most bizarre situations, but what if actually being able to confront and handle it this openly is actually better than the paralysis others feel?

By mid-afternoon, my new friends was feeling hungry, so we packed their things and went up to Portland (a surprisingly good restaurant town) and found a place with Dominican food to match their new identity.  Spice is apparently something they're going to have to get used to, because it seems like they're going to be around people who really like that sort of food.  I pointed out that they didn't have to if they didn't want to, but they said they didn't want to mess up this person's life.  I nodded, saying that for as selfish as some people are, it's really surprising how many folks who come to the Inn instinctively feel this sort of responsibility to people they've never met.  They said they hoped the next people staying in the room felt the same way.

We'd taken their bags with us - they really didn't want to spend another moment with their roommate, and bought a plane ticket to their new life.  They changed in a restroom at the Jetport, opting for the most gender-neutral outfit of slacks, t-shirt, and sneakers they could find, though it still revealed their navel.  I could see them doing a sort of "I think I can do this" thing in the restroom mirror, pulling their hair back behind their ears.  I told them they didn't have to go right away, that I had a spare room, but they said they figured it was best they try and explore their new life on their own, before someone was looking over their shoulder.  I nodded, making sure my number was in their phone, and saw them to the TSA line.

It was just starting to get dark when I got back to Cory's place to return Mackenzie's clothes and his keys.  He offered me a beer and I joined him on the couch to watch the ballgame.  I asked him how many like that he saw, and he said it was only a couple a year that were real bad.  The worst was a Naval aviator on shore leave whose letter him them that his new life had been fleeing an abusive home, although couples who got sent separate ways always made him sad.

After another beer, I had taken off my sandals again and had my legs up on the couch, leaned up against him.  It may surprise a lot of guys - it surprised me - but men with Cary's body type, a solid layer of muscle built up by a lifetime of hard work but a somewhat soft exterior built up by a lifelong fondness for hot dogs and ice cream, are a lot nicer to get close to than the really ripped and defined ones, and I leaned my head on his shoulder.  He responded instinctively by wrapping his arm around me, but when his hand came to lay on my breast, he jerked it back, apologizing.  I took that hand in mine and put it back, saying it felt good.  We kept watching the game for a little bit, and then I turned my head and scootched in a little closer, so that our faces were right next to each other, and then we kissed.  There was tongue, his hands in my hair, but after I got his shirt unbuttoned and he'd done the same with my top, he carefully pushed me away.

"I'm sorry...  I shouldn't..."

I nodded a bit, but more because I understood than because I agreed.  "Cary, that was mostly me.  It's, ah, been a while since I've been in the arms of a good man, or one who knows all about me, and I don't know if they've ever overlapped."  He was buttoning his shirt, so I did the same.  "It's lonely, you know?"

He grunted.  "I know."  Realizing he could, he elaborated.  "I haven't really gone out with anybody since I was Elaine.  Tough when you're a single dad, even if the kids aren't really kids, and they probably can look after themselves, but they'd probably envy any adult relationship you had, and who wants to date a woman that's okay with letting your daughter run wild?  I thought it would get easier when Mack got older, but it just hasn't.  Maybe I'm just too old for it now.  65 next week, you know."

I shrugged.  "That's not so old, and what's age mean for us?  I've been the older woman in a relationship, and even if others talk, it's okay if you really like someone."

"I don't recall that turning out terribly well for you, if you don't mind my saying."

I spit out a laugh.  "Oh, I say that all the time!  To the folks who would understand, at least."  Feeling like the evening was done and it would just get more awkward as I stayed, I put my sandals back on and grabbed my purse off the coffee table.  "You should put yourself out there anyway, though.  You're a good guy.  And a good kisser."

He saw what I was doing and held out a hand to shake, body language clear he would step back if I moved in closer, so I grabbed it, making a little joke of giving him a firm, manly handshake.  Then I headed out to the car, punched up the nearest Dunkin that was still open - two beers doesn't really get me that buzzed as Zee, but coffee seemed like a good idea anyway - and headed south.

So, yep, made out with Cary, a white guy almost twice my age, with whom I share a past identity.  It's probably a real good thing we didn't get to three or four beers.  I've made a lot of mistakes that started out with "hey, we've got this in common!"

Or maybe not.

-Zee

Daryl/Zee: New Year's Resolution/Confession

Just gonna say it:  I slept with the guy everyone warned me about, on purpose, in spite of or maybe even because of everyone warning me about him. 

I was in a bit of a funk at the end of the year; i didn't really have enough time off accrued to take any sort of Christmas vacation, but work slowed to a crawl because everyone else was making plans around the holidays.  I've made some friends in Boston, but nobody else who was also at loose ends, and I kept finding excuses not to put up a tree or decorate the apartment.  Which is fine until you wake up on the 25th with nothing to do and seriously think about calling your ex to see what he's up to. 

I didn't, but the next week was even slower, so as I sipped my hot chocolate as I wandered around the city's First Night event, I made an actual resolution:  I was not going to be J.T.'s stupid ex who constantly thought about how she gave up her entire life for a man any more.  I was gonna aggressively move on.  I actually said this aloud right before the fireworks started going off; if anyone around me had been paying attention, it would have been so cool. 

Then, a day and a half later, it was First Thursday at The Changeling.  There actually weren't many of us there, and a couple left when the infamous Lenny showed up, and by the end of the night, it was just us. 

It's been a couple months since I've posted, but Lenny stayed at the Inn a few summers ago, got turned into a black woman, but things lined up so he could go back to his real life in just a few weeks.  Since then, he's really had a thing for other Inn people, especially women who used to be men, and hooks up with a lot of them, but it never lasts and often ends badly.  Most of the sizable Boston contingent of transformees at least have a second-hand story.  I was warned.  But, as the saying goes, I wasn't looking for Mr. Right, but Mr. Right Now. 

I was a bit surprised when I actually met him; from the way everyone talked, I was expecting a twenty-something horndog who had either convinced himself that his experience had set the course of his life or learned how to work a very specific new fetish.  Instead, he's forty-ish, balding a little though in decent shape, and using reading glasses.  It's kind of cute, not in an "I'm attracted to him" way, but small and non-threatening.  Even having been warned, it made me underestimate how good his game is.  He maintains eye contact, even though I've taken off my blazer and the turtleneck underneath it's a bit tight, compliments my hair on a way that indicates he knows that it can be a bit of a challenge without underlining it, and waitress for me to bring up sports and other male-coded things without looking relieved afterward. It's better than most people who sit down next to me at a bar manage. 

Long story short, we wind up at his house.  He complains a bit about wearing a condom, but does.  The gossip about his dick isn't exaggerating, and, yeah, he absolutely comes across as someone with first-hand experience in having a clitoris; he finds my g-spot quick! He doesn't fumble around squeezing my breasts like stress balls or putting his dick anywhere i wouldn't want it.  And while it's been a while for me, I do know how to keep him hard so we can go for a long time.

Eventually, we've both climaxed and are lying on top of the sheets, sweaty, naked, and panting in a good way.  He turns and looks at me with a smile.  "That was amazing!  You were meant to be a woman, don't you think?"

I laughed a bit.  "I don't know about that.  You ask me a year ago, and I'm sure I was meant to be one specific man's, uh, life partner."  I tripped a bit there; "girlfriend" seemed insufficient, but i can't say I'd had a lot of specific fantasies of being J.T.'s wife, even by the time I got ready to propose.  "I'm kind of not doing 'meant to be' right now."  The spell broken a bit, I started picking up my clothes and getting dressed.  "Well, aside from being meant to be at work tomorrow, if you know what I mean."

I called a rideshare, got back home, and got three terrible hours of sleep, but there was barely anyone in the office to notice.  Around 11:30am, I got the first text, asking if I wanted to do something more like an actual date the next night.  I was in a call, so I ignored it, and worked through lunch.  By 3pm, there were five messages, not angry or indignant or anything, but it seemed like a lot.  I feel like I would have given a woman I liked a little space, but I was kind of worried about asking anyone if this was a red flag, because the people who wouldn't find a woman in her thirties asking this weird would be all "girl, you slept with Lenny?"

I was bored enough binging the latest season of Lioness (there are like fifteen minutes of characters you actually care about in an hour of that show) to text back, and, yeah, we wound up arranging dinner and a movie the next night.

Based on the movie and restaurant he booked, it was going to be pretty casual, so I showed up in jeans, sneakers, and a hoodie.  Nothing torn up or anything - all Christmas-gift-card-new, in fact - but he raised his eyebrows. 

I tried to be playful.  "What, not what you expect from someone 'meant to be a woman'?  You didn't get to experience wearing skirts in the winter!"

He laughed, but it kind of got weird really fast, and at the end of the movie, we went for drinks, and he pointed out a couple of girls who were more dolled up for their Saturday night and said I'd look good in that or whatever, and by the end, I kind of wasn't in the mood.  I said so, he got kind of pissy about it, but ultimately I just went home.

Anyway, I actually had a busy week at work after that - quarterly planning stuff, and really wasn't looking to go out so much as go home at the end of the day, but he's kept texting me.  Even wanted to know if I was doing anything special for Martin Luther King Day, and, geez, white guys, do not ask your Black friends that.  Especially not if you're looking for a date or fun times; I actually had some 23-year-old ask at work if there were remembrances or events scheduled, and could kind of respect someone not knowing and wanting to know what kind of holiday it was for other people.  I said it wasn't exactly a day where I went to church, but I was kind of new in town and didn't know what was planned myself, and should find out for next year.

Which isn't the point so much that it was a sort of clarifying moment for how presumptuous Lenny could be and how actually dating him was going to be all sorts of uncomfortable even if he did have a certain understanding of my life that 98% of the folks I might meet didn't.  So I finally told him that this wasn't going to happen, but I was grateful for that one night.

It hasn't stopped him from texting me yet, so that's going to be a bit of a thing for a while.  But I don't regret the hook-up; I kind of needed a rebound to prove to myself that I am in fact a heterosexual girl who enjoys that rather than a guy who has spent years as various women because the girl I fell for turned out to be something else.  And also that, while I kind of hope I'll find someone I can share my whole real history with, that may not be an entirely unmixed blessing!

-Zee

Daryl/Zee: First Thursday Club

As I mentioned last time, one of the reasons I decided to settle in Boston is that there's Inn people there, but it hasn't really been an official support system until, I guess, fairly recently, when one of the local folks decided that she owned a bar and might as well get folks together there.  Invitations got sent out and, after work, I headed the other direction up the Red Line and then took a buss from the end of the line a little way up Massachusetts Avenue and found "The Changeling".

Props on the clever name - it is, at heart, an Irish pub, even if the Irish lady who runs it used to be a Texan (and thus puts unusually good barbecue on the menu) and is thus sort of like those creatures placed in other people's lives.  Is that too much explaining the joke?

So, I walked in a little nervously and saw it was a bit busy, what with it being happy hour and all.  But then, it's just a bar, so I walked up to the counter and asked the bartender if she knew anything about "First Thursday Changelings' Club".

She was actually Irish, and said I'd be wantin' t' go t' the far booth, pointing me at one in a back corner, near a foosball table but no windows.  One person was already sitting there - a woman of about 40 or so, who leapt up when she saw me.  "Hi, I'm Ashlyn!  Welcome to my bar.  You must be...  Za-rye-uh?"

"Za-ree-ya.  Call me 'Zee'.  You look great!"  I looked her up and down a little, not sure what I'd expected, other than it wasn't quite this.  As someone who had a number of older female friends as Magda, I've known a few who having not just been very attractive in their youth, but who traded off that, are either blithely unaware of how time has worked on them or who have been maniacal in maintaining it to the extent that they can and won't let you miss it.  Ashlyn, it seemed, was in the second category, wearing a green dress with a plunging neckline that showed she still had an impressive rack, although it was maybe a little tighter than intended in some other spots.  Her hair is bright red, and she's got strong-looking arms and legs as well as a face that ha a few more lines but great cheekbones.

"Thank you.  40 can hit hard and I'm not going down without a fight!"  We laughed, and then we started talking.  She asked if I was a Celtics fan yet, and I told her that I'd manage to cling to the Bulls despite not having been in Chicago for a while, and she expressed her sympathy but also her respect, because she'd given in little by little over the years, especially once she opened the bar.

We talked a lot of sports, and, god, I missed that; the ex's friends weren't really sports people, none of my female friends have been, and even the best of guy friends tend to get weird when a lady likes sports.  I mean, I did the same thing back in the day, because it's like a signal that you're extra-compatible or something at best and a threat to the ego at worst.

We'd gone on about basketball for a while when a blonde lady about Ashlyn's age came in and he beckoned her over.  "Zee, Penny; Penny, Zee.  We shook hands like it was some secret 'we're actually guys and don't hug' signal, although Ashlyn was a hugger where this old friend was concerned.  "So, how's the new job?"

Penny grunted.  "It's a lot.  I mean, it used to be enough to be married to a lawyer while writing a couple books a year, but Ray's practice is just getting off the ground and Millie is just good enough to need expensive coaches, so now I'm dealing with a classroom full of twenty Millies twice a day, and this is just part time!"  She turned and gave me a wry grin.  "Don't get me wrong, being a mother and a teacher is very rewarding, but sometimes I wish I could have passed my daughter bookish Arthur Milligan DNA as opposed to how athletic and competitive the original Penelope Lincoln was!"

That kind of bowled me over.  "Geez, I hadn't thought of that."

"It's weird!  It's not like I ever look at Millie and feel like she's not my kid or love her any less, but if every parent looks at their kids and wonders where that comes from, at least they have some idea!  I keep getting blindsided by the parts of her that aren't clearly Ray."

I nodded, and then she pointed at the guy who was walking from the bar.  "Now, Ande - Ande isn't going to have to worry about that, since he'll be using his twin's DNA!"

Ande started to back off but Ashlyn grabbed his arm.  "Don't mind her, she doesn't mean you're going to be having kids any time soon.  Now, c'mon, how do you know Penny?"

"I don't know her, I just, uh, sort of asked for something weird at a book signing."

"Not that weird - I get one or two Inn folks who want that to be part of their autographs a year.  Usually on the Pygmalion books, even though I haven't done one of those in five years, although some of the Wandering Inn ones attract the same audience.  Not that Ashlyn pays attention to anything but the mysteries."

A few other folks showed up who don't contribute to the blog and said to respect their privacy.  We stayed well past happy hour, and by the time things were about to break up at around ten, one gave a big, exaggerated, maybe somewhat tipsy sigh.  "Well, Zee, it looks like you got lucky and Lenny's not going to show up."

Penny turned to Ashlyn.  "Wait, you invited Lenny?"

"What?  I couldn't not invite him!"

Penny harrumphed.  "Agree to disagree."

I noticed a bunch of folks were kind of trying not to look at me.  "Who's Lenny?"

The lady who brought him up took me by the hand.  "Lenny spent, like, eight weeks as a woman five years or so ago, and ever since, he's hit on everyone who returned from the Inn a moderately attractive woman, saying that we should stick together so that we can share everything about our lives."

A few other folks jumped in.  "Which isn't entirely wrong."  "But he's such a weirdo about it!"  "I don't know how he even finds out."  "Learned what a girl likes, though."  "And that dick--"

The first woman slapped the table.  "Hey, stop making him sound good!  Fucker cheated on me with that stewardess for two months!"  She pointed at me.  "I'm just saying, you are totally his type - he really likes girls who used to be guys, and black girls besides.  He acts like he really knows what you go through, and talks a good game, but he's a fucking dog."

I was a bit taken aback.  "Well, I'm not looking to get back into another relationship right now."

Penny punched my shoulder.  "You say that now, but c'mon, you're a romantic like me, and guys like Lenny have a real appeal to gals like us.  I mean, if I hadn't already been married when he set his sights on me..."  She shook her head to clear it.  "Welp, that's enough sharing for tonight!  Anyone heading to Camberville and want to split a cab?"

A couple folks raised their hands, and the party split up after that.  At that relatively late hour, it took me over an hour to get home, and the walk at the end got my blood flowing just enough that I couldn't sleep now it's too late to try.

Good thing it's no-meetings Friday!

-Zee

Daryl/Zee: Wouldn't Be a Proper Inn Person Otherwise

There's a bunch of reasons us folks who have been to the Inn wind up in and around Boston, eventually; it's the nearest big city that has a direct connection to Old Orchard Beach, if only by rail, so a lot of folks who wind up switched around come from there.  If you're looking to change back and at a loose end, it's tempting to settle there so that logistics don't mess it up - they never posted to the blog, but I heard about one person whose borrowed identity was low on PTO, so they would drive up to Maine, sleep there, and then come back to Boston until they changed so that the person getting their old life back wouldn't get in too much trouble at work.  And it's a pretty nice city; not Chicago or New York but it's got all the sports, plenty of museums, at least one restaurant from whatever cuisine you happen to like, and, relatedly, your various ethnic enclaves.

"Inn People" isn't really one of those, but I do think we need each other.  You look at some entries from when this blog first started and there's someone who wound up really far from everyone else, they drop off the site, and when someone gets back in contact they've got a conspiracy wall that was apparently 10% informative and 90% paranoid.  Or you can just lose track of who you were before, like this huge portion of your life just didn't matter.  And given my personal history of losing myself, it's probably a good idea to have people around who can say "hey, Zee, what would Daryl think?"

(Is this always a good rule for an Inn Person?  Probably not!  Is it good for me to occasionally ask the question?  More often than not!)

Plus, and I cannot stress this enough, the new job is full-time rather than freelance, offers health insurance, and only averages a little more than two days a week required in the office because my job entails leading in-person training sessions as well as project management, and there's enough hardware engineering/prototyping going on that a lot of the team is on-site anyway.  Apparently my willingness to come in got me the position over a few people who insisted on being completely remote even though my "Zee" résumé isn't quite so good as my "Daryl + Elaine + Zee" one would be, if I could get people to believe in it.

So, that's me in Boston.  I found a fairly decent condo in Dorchester, although the down-payment has nixed me doing any sort of real vacation for a couple of years.  It's not quite on the subway, but one of those bike things is nearby, and that's probably better for me anyway.

Will I be here for good?  Who knows, I may decide that even in a fairly Black neighborhood, this city lives down to its racist reputation and decide to go elsewhere.  But for now, it suits me.

-Zee

Daryl/Zee: Where to next?

Stayed in the hotel room for a couple of nights, but I'm not exactly loaded enough to do that long-term, so I went looking for apartments, but as you might expect, that's also crazy in New York, even when you get to lesser neighborhoods.  I found one that looked pretty nice, and then I got Inn-brain and stopped short of signing a lease.

Breaking up with J.T. messed me up, like every breakup kind of messes you up for a while, except that every cell of my body had been changed from what they had been before I met him to facilitate being with him, and while I wasn't going to try and demand my old life back - it had been freely given with assurances about this very situation, and even if I had done so because I hadn't thought it was ever going to happen then, I'm not that kind of person - the thought of becoming a man again was certainly at the front of my mind.  So I figured, let's not commit to anything.

I don't think I'm gong to do that, though.  I've gotten used to being Zariyah Andrews, and while I'm at least the third Zee, so it's not like I've been entrusted this life by its original owner, I've tried to form some bonds with her mother and other people on her contact list because I feel like I've been entrusted with them.  I've been a woman for long enough that I'd have to not just adjust to all the details of a new life but relearn what it's like to be a man.  And, ultimately, after spending six years with J.T. and seeing it end in an afternoon, I'm ready to move forward.

But how?  And where?

I've come to really like New York, and while I could probably spend the next thirty years in Manhattan and never cross paths with someone I knew from dating J.T., I kind of don't want to risk it.  I don't want to accidentally run into Magda-4 or Harmon/Alicia, either.  Harlem is tempting; I've got a short-term rental there now, and I kind of hadn't realized just how much the Black part of my life was missing until now.

Going back home to Chicago is also tempting, but it kind of feels wrong.  I'll be tempted to return to familiar places, but form new relationships there, and drive myself nuts when they aren't quite like the old ones.  That's something I did being three of J.T.'s girlfriends, and it wears on you.  Plus, I might run into new-Daryl, and that's also weird.

A weird thing I kind of wasn't expecting is how many of the friends I've made as Zee find this course of action completely reasonable.  They know my backstory, that I met J.T. and uprooted my life to be with him and were sympathetic to both the impulse and the way it blew up and left me adrift, and it's a kind of funny thing that both sexes will react mostly the same way, but with slightly different different emphasis.  Men and women both find it romantic, but men tend more to "she's setting you up and is going to think it's funny when she dumps you" while women are usually more thinking about he might wind up hurting you without thinking about it and you'll be without a support system.  Not all men (does that rate a "TM"?), obviously, and not all women, but on the average.

So by the same logic, men will hear you talking about moving after a relationship ends and think you're nuts ("don't give her the satisfaction!") and women will be like, yeah, that's kind of extreme, but I get it and have sometimes wished it were an option for me - and are you okay, by the way?  Again, not everyone in a demographic, but there's a trend.

Looking over this, it makes it sound like I think J.T.'s dangerous, and he's not, and I don't think he would be if I stuck around but continued to reject any attempt to reconcile.  I just kind of find this really interesting and worth focusing on, because having been with him for so long, the fact that the end of a relationship can be an especially scary time for a woman is something I've avoided.  But it's something I'll have to keep in mind for the future, especially if I wind up someplace without other Inn veterans for support.

-Zee

Daryl/Zee: You Would THINK This All Counted for Something!

I still think of myself as pretty young, because not only does Jonah/Krystle have a point about your self-image kind of freezing as you were the first time you went to the Trading Post, but I was Magda for four years, and even after almost two years as Zariyah "Zee" Andrews, I still know what it's like being past menopause, feeling a little worn down, and having people look askance at you and your younger boyfriend.  I've been feeling like I imagine a young woman feels.

Except, well, I'm not, entirely.  When I talk to my "mom", she asks if I'm ever going to give her grandchildren.  I've started wearing reading glasses on occasion.  Younger people in the office say I look good "for my age".  And, I admit, when I saw that Jonah's boyfriend had proposed, it kind of hit me that I had been with J.T. for over six years and we hadn't really talked about it.  Well, we kind of had, but we'd more talked about talking about it - this is my fourth face, after all, and before I got it we kind of needed to be able to uncouple and recouple without a lot of fuss.  It hasn't been that way for a while, though.

I started to fret about it with a girlfriend, being vague about some things and trying to come up with "equivalent lies" for others, and she pointed out that I had, from the sound of it, made the first move throughout our relationship, so maybe that was just our vibe.  It felt like a really obvious thing when she put it like that; after all, I'd been the guy and he was Elaine when we met, I had gone to him when I was Elaine, had made the huge gesture to let fate decide if I should get another body, moved to his city (twice!), and sought out this younger shape myself.  He had gone along with what I wanted and was ready for, and it wasn't just dropping hints.  I was going to have to ask him.

So I went to a jeweler, let them think that I was proposing to a girlfriend, and bought a pair of matching engagement rings, both with small, kind of subtle diamonds.  We both wear jewelry, though it's more often just an earring or a pinky ring for him and I'm not a lot fancier.  Yesterday afternoon, I got the call that it was finished, and I told my co-workers that I'd be knocking off early to pick it up, and would check in later in the evening.  I got the rings, headed back to the apartment, and smiled a bit as I heard the noises from the bedroom.  This is going to sound stupid, but J.T. has been on this Euro-sleaze kick lately, "research" for a film that thought it would be fun to cast the former teen idol as the svengali figure, but also because they're kind of dumb fun, which is why I didn't think anything of opening the door and asking what he was watching.

Only to see him fucking Harmon Keller-slash-Alicia Polawski-slash-Harmony Kelton on our bed.

He was on his back and she was riding him cowgirl, so he saw me come in and pulled his hands from her breasts and tried to push himself away, and she looked over her shoulder and smirked, nonchalantly pulling away from my boyfriend's cock, picking up her uniform and slipping it on over her head, then grabbing her high heels but not bothering with her underwear as she used her other hand to grab the roller bag from the corner of the room.  She blew him a little kiss, mouthing "call me", then favored me with a quiet "bye mom" as she sauntered to the door and then the elevator.

As Magda, I'd given a probably-reasonable but probably also unhealthy amount of thought to what I would do if J.T. ever cheated on me, and the answer turned out to be cool anger.  As he reached for his boxers, I stepped on them so he couldn't pick them up off the floor and stared downward.  "All the actresses and models you work with, the girls who had a crush on you as kids, all the other women in fucking Manhattan, and you do this with fucking Harmon Keller?"

I was apparently angry enough that he feared I would do something violent, because he moved his hands to cover his shriveling, now semi-erect dick.  "Honey, it's not like that!  I mean, yes, Harmon can kind of be a pain, but she's like us, and was nervous about embracing this part of womanhood, so when we met while she was doing an audition for something while I was shooting in the same building, she asked for some pointers, and--"

"She was at an audition?  I talk to Magda, asshole, and I know she hasn't been trying to get into show business beyond her YouTube thing for a year and half!  How long has this been going on?"

He repeated the sound "I" a lot.

"It started while I was still Magda, didn't it, and she was me but with a perfect ass and nothing sagging and buttering you up about how she still wasn't sure she knew what she was doing but you were such a good teacher and nobody else would understand, didn't it?"

He lowered his head.  "Yes."

"And you probably ate it all up, didn't you?  And you know what, I'll bet she's been pushing you to do stuff that made it more likely you'd get caught, right?  She's hated me ever since I told her I'd be moving out of that apartment in Oakland any more and probably figured blowing up the thing that took sabotaged her easy little life would be good revenge."

Apparently suggesting that she wasn't primarily into him was the thing that would get him to react.  "Honey, it's not about you--"

I leaned in.  "It's about me even if the bitch didn't mean it to be.  Do you not understand that I started completely new lives twice for you?  That the only time I've talked to my original family in six years was at Elaine's wedding, and that was just small talk from a former co-worker?  That instead of Magda, I could have become somebody who wouldn't make it through the winter?  All so you don't have to sacrifice one bit of your comfortable situation!"

"Look, I never asked you to do any of that!"

"Oh, but you let me, and said how lucky you were to have someone who loved you that much!  And this is how you repay me, going behind my back with that asshole!"  Angry, I walked over to a closet, pulled out a suitcase, and started putting some clothes into it.

His expression shifted a little, like I sometimes saw at work from someone who figured I'd left myself open.  "Come on, let's talk about this!  Where are you going to go?"

"It's New York, there are hotels.  Not like I can exactly crash with Magda, is it?"

"Come on, you said yourself, we've got so much invested in this!"

I turned around.  "I said I have a lot invested in this.  You, apparently, just have a couple of closets!"

I didn't wait for a response and took about the same path Harmon had toward the elevator, and realized that I didn't even really have a travel app on my phone on the way down - J.T. had taken care of any vacations we took, and the couple of times I've traveled for work, the office handled it.  I wound up just looking for hotels on Google Maps, which I suppose is fine, but probably cost me.

Anyway, this is my second night in this room, and I'm not sure what to do.  J.T. has left a few voice mails and text, but I feel like he should be trying harder to get in touch with me?  Is that just crazy woman brain, crazy guy brain, or me knowing just how central this relationship is and expecting it to be valued similarly?

-Zee?

Daryl/Zee: What a Wedding!

Not mine, although I was wondering if maybe J.T. would do something romantic and get down on one knee at some point.  Not in a way that would upstage Elaine and new-Daryl, but maybe back at the hotel, so that I could show a ring off at the Inn-people-only breakfast the next morning.  You would think he'd be ready, given that we've been dating each other in multiple shapes since before the pandemic, so it's pretty clear we're compatible and can weather a lot.  But, then again, I suppose there's nothing that would stop me from proposing, considering I was the guy in this relationship when it started.  Not sure how that would work, though - do I go out, buy a ring, and then kneel to pop the question, holding out the little box so he can take it out and put it on my finger?  Maybe there's stuff about girls proposing on YouTube or something.

But, hey, this past weekend was not about me - it was Elaine and "Dareleanor", who has done pretty well with my life even without landing Elaine.  They coincidentally wound up taking contracts with the same company, Elaine asked him if he recognized her, and she explained how the original Daryl (me) lived her life for a while and they both started gushing, excited to have someone to talk to.  That Eleanor didn't even blink about staying in her new life once she realized that nobody wanted it back even though she'd been a white woman says something about just how completely they clicked, and they apparently didn't feel the need to wait once they figured that out.

I came out to Chicago a few days before J.T., in part because Dareleanor wanted some help with the more far-flung relatives that he hadn't met but whom my mother said had to be invited.  Someday I'll talk about how it wasn't just falling for J.T. that convinced me to leave my life behind - there are a lot of complicated feelings there, so Dareleanor and I decided not to try and do a "major life event lets you tell the truth" thing with them while things were going well - but he just needed a whole lot of information supplied on short notice, which I was able to help with.

He looked good in his tux, and Elaine looked amazing in her dress.  She found some time to hang out with me, although it was kind of weird:  I've been both of them, but only barely met either.  I'm important to them, because without me they would never have met, but I'm kind of like a storm that shut down the airport while they were in the bar waiting for different flights or something like that, an outside force-of-nature that you're glad happened but don't necessarily think well of.

It was also kind of fun to have some other Inn folks around as part of the wedding.  J.T. looked damn good in his tux, and he's famous enough that there were some murmurs running through the reception:  How do Elaine and Daryl know him?  Oh, they don't, he's with Zee.  Well, who is this Zee - I've never met her!  Although, they thought, maybe I did at some point, because she seems to know all our names!  I met most of them in my original life, when I was dating J.T./Elaine, and then in the brief time I was Elaine (I went to Marisa's wedding!), but none of them knew Zee.  They probably just assumed I had a better memory than average for casual acquaintances, which is actually true and helpful when you're parachuting into other people's lives.

Aside from that, Cary came with Krystle/Mackenzie (who gave me a look when I called her "Mackrystle" that suggests I not call her that to her face again), and the hug Elaine gave him must have made the actual father of the bride jealous.  She also gushed over how much Krystle had grown in the past few years and winked at what a pretty young woman she'd become, laughing when the apparent red-headed teen said it was a relief that she could pull off the dress she was wearing.  Some of my younger cousins danced with her and it was kind of funny because Krystle hasn't forgotten her first life and they were not expecting a 16-year-old white girl with freckles from Maine to have the moves she does.  There must be some fun videos where she is just this crazy white-and-red spot in the middle of all the Black teenagers.

I mentioned that to her when we all got together for a Sunday Inn Veterans brunch, and she laughed, saying she hoped nobody was watching that and asking whether she'd ever been on a pole.  Surprisingly, that was kind of the highlight of the thing, because we didn't actually have that much to talk about.  It wasn't a waste of time, because even if you've been in a life long enough to make it yours and not think about going back or worry about screwing something up, it's kind of a relief to know you won't have to come up with a weird explanation or remember a previous lie in a conversation.

J.T. and I stayed in Chicago for another couple days after the wedding, revisiting places we knew from our own time here, whether as Daryl or Elaine. which was fun if kind of surreal.  One restaurant was just as good as I remembered it, but that the owner who always knew everybody's name had never met me was sad.

Then, in a crazy coincidence, Harmon/Alisha was our flight attendant on the way back to New York!  It's not entirely surprising - (s)he's relocated there, back to crashing with the new Magda, who is apparently more willing to act the mother while asking little of her "daughter", and this is apparently a better place to be part of influencer/YouTube/Instagram culture than Oakland (on top of there not being much chance to transfer to L.A.) - but definitely a bit surreal to know that the woman with the short skirt and tight top who was assigned to making sure the folks in first class were satisfied used to be a top economist.

-Zee

Daryl/Zee: People Think I'm Crazy

Well, they think Zee's crazy, coming back from vacation, giving two week's notice, and saying she's going to up and move to New York because she met a guy on vacation.  Nope, don't want to stay on as remote after that, either - just making a clean start!  Which surprises them a little, as previous-Zee apparently liked working from home during the pandemic.  I can kind of see why - there are cheat sheets right next to her monitor about who everyone is - but it's kind of not exactly an ideal workplace.  None of her co-workers are surprised by the desire to move on, even if previous-Dee didn't exactly strike them as the romantic type, though the management seems to think giving notice right after coming back from a long vacation is the sort of thing an asshole does.  Can't say they're exactly wrong, but, again, there are a lot of co-workers who think giving the finger as you depart is the stuff of legend.

I was able to pack fairly light for the move - previous-Zee started downsizing almost two years ago, and I told her that she could keep whatever she had come to grow fond of from Zee's apartment, not realizing just how much she'd take me up on.  But that's fine.  She became Zee in her mid-twenties and had been her for three years, and as much as she wasn't looking back, there was a lot of things she was used to, and which I wouldn't know I was missing.

So I went to New York, put some things in a storage unit that J.T. had arranged, and then made my way to Flushing, because the new Magda was insisting that I stay with her and tell her everything she needs to know before completely diving into her new life, which was a surprise, but a welcome one.  Short-term situations in New York are at least one of hard to find and expensive, and J.T. and I didn't want to do the "new girlfriend immediately moves in" thing again, even if it would look less weird with me not appearing old enough to be his mother.  Hopefully I won't be here long, but it's nice to be somewhere kind of familiar while I get on my feet.

I was a bit surprised when I got buzzed up that first time and new-Magda opened the door; she looked younger than I had looked as her and I told her so.  She accepted the compliment and said that she'd spent some time as a make-up artist back before she got married, and had all sorts of experience with shaving a few years off a middle-aged woman even before she'd been one, and "Magda" was aging quite gracefully to begin with - although she said I obviously knew that, of course, because I'd been Magda not long before.

She ran through all that quickly before saying that I'd certainly found myself a nice little landing spot and I said, yeah, I feel a little more like me while still being someone my boyfriend would enjoy having sex with.  She turned a bit red at that - she's actually in her mid-sixties and sort of aspires to be as sex-positive as a Golden Girls character but still defaults hard to cis-het in her thinking, and the idea that I could start out as a "normal" man and get to a point where I was looking for a just-right female body even with magic involved is hard for her to get her brain around.  It's going to be fun the next time that Harmon arrives if she starts thinking of him as entirely Alicia the way she seems to treat me as entirely Zee because she doesn't know what to think about me as Daryl.

Still, she's a pretty apt pupil for someone who initially worried about teaching an old dog new tricks, seemingly excited to learn all the goings-on at the airport.  I asked if she thought she was going to be Magda long-term, and she says it's tempting, depending on what happens with her husband, who has become someone fairly age-appropriate for Magda but...  Well, his real identity is ten or fifteen years older than her, so there's a very real possibility that it won't be there to come back to in the spring, and he doesn't want to stick someone else with so few days.  Apparently, he says she should stay Magda whatever happens, rather than be a widow everyone takes pity on, but they've been together for decades and she can't imagine abandoning him like that.

It was a sobering thing that I brought up with J.T. on our "welcome (back) to New York" date that evening.  We've known kids who became adults via the Inn and vice versa, and I've certainly given some thought to having potentially lost twenty years while living as Magda, but the other end of things is scary.  Just imagine becoming Magda's husband as a teenager and not knowing if your heart will make it to the next Inn booking!

Fortunately, we've got that behind us, and he figures that in time, once I've found a place of my own and a new job, we'll eventually get to a point where we can just look forward.  Easy for him to say - he was only someone else for one year, almost five years ago!

-Darzee (nah)

Daryl/Zee: Meet-Cute

J.T. put on a pretty darn good performance Thursday night, acting like I just randomly caught his eye across the bar, buying me a drink, pretending like he didn't expect me to recognize him but would be hurt if I didn't.  It's a funny thing, our lives - if you've been to the Inn, you're eventually going to get into a position where you've got to perform as someone else, and it's different from what he does in that you don't really have to be convincing, because there's no reason for anyone to actually doubt you, but there are so many ways to be "off" that make it harder for people to follow their own part of the script, so to speak.  When you throw a professional actor like J.T. into it, though, it's something else.

At times, I'm not so sure that's a great thing - he was so convincingly Elaine that I fell for her, and hasn't that made my life crazy over the past few years?  Everyone else either just tries to keep their heads down or commits to living their new life, and while that inevitably makes a mess, because humans are messy, it's usually a clumsy mess that we can stumble out of awkwardly.  But he was just too good.

On the other hand - that night was exciting.  Like, we've kind of been doing some performances together for a while, like our "breakup" in June that got me a bunch of sympathy from the friends and co-workers I had as Magda but which left him a fair amount of time to have his friends start pushing him to find someone new, while I've been sort of laying the groundwork to leave the next Magda able to do whatever she wants without it seeming weird.

Still - it was kind of surprising to see just how well he was selling it.  I mean, I know J.T. well already, and I never really thought of myself as a woman who wanted a man to pay attention to me.  Sometimes I don't even think of myself as a woman, but a guy who has wound up in a woman's body because the girl I liked was really a man and this worked out easier.  But here's J.T., doing that, and it's kind of working on me.  I mean, I've never been a single girl looking for a guy's attention, but I did kind of worry that maybe with this new shape and voice and smell or whatever, we might lose chemistry, but, nah, he's interested and I'm excited by that.

He calls a taxi and we get back to his/our apartment, and we kiss for a long time, letting us get used to how my new lips feel before we do much else.  He's really excited to undress me, though, and I let him, not letting him touch anything until he's got me completely naked, and even then kind of making him look me all over, starting from how I've actually got pretty nice toes (I don't think prior Zees have crammed them into the sort of shoes that squish them together than much) to the shape of my legs.  Then he's laying hands on my firmer ass, and from there it's not far to my tits, and he's kissing those and being kind of cute in how he's not sure whether I want to hear how much better they are or if I'll take that as him saying that he didn't enjoy what I had as Magda.

Eventually, we get to the bed, and for all that it's exciting, I'm tighter down there than I was, and he likes it but it's also a little harder than he's had to work before.  We both get a little surprised when something that had always brought be to orgasm before feels good but isn't quite the same, although we get there eventually, and it's good enough to leave us both lying there, panting.

We hang out as much as we can over the weekend - he is in a show, after all - and most of today, before I get on a plane (ugh, paying for airline tickets!) and head back "home", where I will act so spacey and distracted for the next couple of weeks that everybody will hopefully take my not knowing who they are as being head over heels in love.

--Daryah (maybe? I'm pronouncing it dare-ee-yah in my head)

Daryl/Zee: I can hardly believe this is FINALLY me

Of all the folks posting on this blog, I suspect that Jordan is the only one who really gets how nice it is to wake up in the Inn, look in the mirror, and feel like things are finally right, even if being white was easier in a lot of ways.  Two nights ago, I went to sleep as Magda for the last time, having intending to be awake to watch my body change in the mirror, but one's mid-fifties are no joke, and I eventually flopped down on the bed, only to wake up, see the sun on my darker legs, and suddenly feel energized to bounce up and run into the bathroom.

I'd seen the face already, but it was great to be able to make it smile in the mirror; this may be my fourth face, but I don't know that you ever get used to this.  It twirled my hair, thinking I'd probably braid it, because while it's not super-nappy, it's also not the fine, silky stuff they make wigs out of, so it would take a lot more combing than Magda's did for the same effect.  I said a couple test sentences, and my voice felt a little closer to right.  "Hi!  I'm Zariyah Andrews!  Call me Zee!"

Though I'd grown an inch and a half, it wasn't enough to make the shorts and tee I had slept in as Magda feel tight.  Heck, with the weight off my chest, it was probably a wash up top.  Not that I'm flat-chested now, but Magda had always been busty and had a kid besides, so being perky maybe didn't look quite so impressive, although I remembered from being Elaine that you can do a lot with the right bra.  My legs and butt looked pretty good, and a quick look inside the shorts indicated nothing unexpected.

(I feel bad about reducing this to a bunch of body parts, but apparently four years isn't quite enough not to be waking up a new woman by taking inventory of the sort of thing guys look for)

Soon after that, folks started yelling, so I threw some daytime clothes on and went to help folks out.  After that, it was the obligatory trip to Cary's hot dog truck.  I must have been smiling like an extra-special goofball or maybe nobody else orders a Chicago-style dog - or maybe both - but he sort of held it in the air for a second, considering what a fool he'd look like if asking "Daryl?" was the wrong call, before I busted out "call me Zee!" for the first real time.

He told me I looked really good, and I thanked him, and then he did me the favor of asking how dropping twenty years overnight felt because I wanted to say it was great, thank you very much, without acting like I pitied him for taking those years back after his time as Elaine.  Us having both had the same identity at different times gave us a bit more room to talk about how things were going with the original (and never being anyone else again) Elaine.  She and the guy living as me found each other and are getting married next spring, which is crazy, especially when you think that neither of them were using those names the last time "Daryl & Elaine" was a thing.

Anyway, he seemed genuinely happy that this had finally worked out for me.  I was planning to take over this life a year ago, but then the original Zee's father died, and even if it didn't mean much to the last person living that life, being in it meant responsibilities she couldn't get out of without feeling awful, so we put everything off a year.  I haven't posted about it because I didn't want to jinx this time, which feels stupid but I can't exactly say that there's no chance of jinxes being real, can I?

I spent most of yesterday afternoon making sure that new-Magda would be in good shape - doing laundry, buying a couple new underwear sets, finding a spot where you could print things out so that she had a bunch of maps and diagrams (and making sure they were all stored in her phone), attaching names to a bunch of people at the airport.

There was also a big section in the binder on Harmon/Alicia, more than I might have expected a year ago, but fake family's fake family, and maybe the new Magda would want to spend more time with him.  We never really got on, but ever since I got my own place in Flushing in preparation for this whole switch a year ago, he's kind of made himself at home there whenever his schedule takes him to New York, because after all, Magda wouldn't expect her daughter to stay in a hotel or crash pad, would she?  We aren't actually roommates that often - I still stayed over at J.T.'s a lot - but, we do go through the motions of playing mother and daughter more than we used to.

In fact, she was there when I got into town this morning, and you'll pardon if I switch pronouns up, but you would have to look very hard to see a man eligible to collect social security in the 27-year-old woman sitting on my couch in a miniskirt and a top that was little more than a bra, feet on my coffee table in high-heeled knee-high boots, hair back in a ponytail, barely looking up at me from her phone (where she was probably looking to see if anybody had tagged photos of her from the night before) as I came in using a spare key.  There's something about her that I don't like, maybe because I feel like it's a reflection of me switching lives for my own ends and not looking back.

That and the dismissive compliments, like "yes, I guess that's at least a lateral move" upon looking at me, which probably wasn't actually racist, but sort of felt that way, like being younger and taller and tighter maybe didn't entirely compensate for not being white anymore (I'm not proud that I've worried about that myself).  I shrugged it off and said I was going to take a shower and a nap, because I'd wound up taking the train after a flight or two was canceled.

It hit me as I saw myself in the bathroom mirror that my new face didn't match what I was expecting in this place - by now I expect the Inn to be random, I guess - and I started thinking about what I'd like to keep from this apartment/phase of my life to bring into the next one.  Should I want to bring more mementos, or physical things, than I was planning?  Given that J.T. and I figure to pick right back up where we left off it doesn't seem like I should be leaving as clean of a slate.

Of course, to do that, he's got to "meet" Zee, which is why I've spent an hour or so after getting up from my hap working on my hair and make-up and making sure I chose just the right outfit so that nobody would be surprised when this "tourist" catches his eye at the bar tonight.

It's funny - I've been with him for longer than I have been with any girl, but we've switched our shapes so often that it doesn't necessarily feel like that.  Heck, I almost wonder if we'll start joking about it if we hit a rut in a couple of years.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves - tonight, I'm seeing a play and finding out what these taste buds think of gin!

-Zariyaryl (Hmm, maybe not)

Daryl/Magda: Planning for futures

The virus closing the Inn for a year has been downright peculiar - this time last year, I was fretting over being stuck as Magda and losing myself, and I think I had a little bit of a breakdown not long after my last post.  It's the sort of thing I always figured I'd be more sure of, but instead it only became clear in reflection.  J.T. had taken a job shooting some small independent film, and while I'd planned to join him, I got kind of freaked about the virus, never got on my flight, and instead turned that week into a "staycation" where I spent a lot of time in bed eating ice cream and watching Netflix, barely got dressed, and spent a lot of time freaking out because new-Daryl took a while to get back to me when I asked how things were going and seldom had questions.  It seemed perfectly reasonable at the time, especially when the time off ended, my alarm rang, and I put on my uniform and went to work like the past week had just never happened.

And here's the weird thing:  I was more centered after.  Things didn't rattle me as much, and having my planned new life fall through got me to a point where I guess I accepted that I would live my live out as Magda Polawski and was less worried about the real me showing through.  I hadn't really been hiding, but I think I'd tried too hard to show I wasn't a boring middle-aged woman around J.T.'s friends and not to be weird around the people at work, and just doing what I wanted felt like a weight off my shoulders.  This wasn't the life I'd planned, but it was a pretty decent one.  I have someone I love, I have friends, I know that the world is a little more remarkable than most people understand.  Even under weird circumstances, my job was steady and I got to help people most of the time.

Apparently, it showed up in my performance.  I don't know much about the original Magda, but I kind of get the impression that she was dedicated enough to herself and Alicia to pick up extra shifts but that was the end of it, at least at work, and Lindsey was just killing time until she could be herself again.  That's not really me, though, so I'd help the new people, show up a bit early or stay a bit late if needed, and, I don't know, engage more?  So by the time I was working an extra shift on Thanksgiving weekend, a little freaked about how too many people were traveling but doing my best to make it work, I wasn't really worried about being laid off when I was called into an office.

It turns out, I was being offered a promotion.

It's weird for an Inn Person(tm)!  Like, I've known several that have quit jobs or changed paths to something more suited, and some weird relationship situations, but being told that I am actually better at some parts of being a middle-aged white lady than an actual middle-aged white lady?  It's mighty disconcerting, but not actually bad, once I considered that my priorities clearly aren't the same as Magda's were, and that some of it was probably because I'm not entirely a MAWL - ability to connect with multiple generations makes me a better leader.  Send your management candidates to the Trading Post, corporations - they'll get a ton of new insights!

Anyway, I'm not a spiritual person, but I do kind of wonder if finally settling in as Magda, accepting that I could see a life as someone other than myself, has made the universe more willing to smile upon me, because Pete found me another candidate for a new life.  Zee's in her early 30s, presumably mixed (clearly Black but lighter than either Elaine or I was), in nice shape, and pretty much a blank slate - her parents aren't in the picture, and she's between jobs but has some savings.  I initially said he should just settle down that way, but it's almost like having the same DNA for two years after spending so long living other people's lives has made him antsy, like he wants some guardrails even though he's unmistakably Pete no matter what face he wears.

I downloaded the pictures to my phone and showed them to J.T., asking if he'd break up with me for her, and bless him, he recognized what I meant right away, especially once I said there was no reason for "her" not to move to New York.  I made a joke about how maybe I could use my new position to recommend her to the airline, and he said he didn't necessarily want people to think he had a thing for airport workers, and, besides, it was a chance for me to get back to doing what I'm good at.

(And then he showed that he still found this shape attractive, thank you!)

I told Pete yes, and we've been exchanging emails.  She seems nice, and has a clean bill of health, but I don't know everything about the real her, though I don't need to.  I get the impression that she's white and younger than Zee from some of her emails, like she's always enjoyed being looked at but it's not necessarily the same when she goes to her favorite places as a Black woman, and from how she was kind of stunned that I'd basically accepted losing 20 years.  Still, from what I can tell, I could enjoy being her.

It does mean making plans not to leave Magda's life a mess, though.  I've put in vacation time for August, and I'm trying to figure out how to stay cordial with the folks I know (they're good friends, by and large) but not actually commit "myself" to anything that next-Magda wouldn't necessarily want to be part of.  I've also been looking at apartments, and holy shit, but New York rent is insane!  I thought the old place in Oakland was crazy for what it was, but New York City is a different level, and that's just basically pretending like much of Manhattan doesn't exist.  Staying in J.T.'s nice place for the past three years has kept me kind of isolated from that, but there's a good chance that next-Magda might find herself in Jersey, because even if I might be happy with a cozy one-bedroom, she may be bringing someone else along, and I don't want her to feel like this life is a prison with no room for the rest of her.

Because it's not, even if I am looking forward to having two shoulders with a full range of motion again.  Being Magda for three years has been a bit of a test, but it's not something one needs to get past.

-Magdaryl

Daryl/Magda: This Goddamn Week

If you're reading this sometime in the future, not really remembering what 2020 was like, here's a reminder:  There's been a pandemic that has shut down and disrupted every facet of our lives, not nearly enough was done to mitigate it, and just as America in general was starting to "open up" too early, video a couple of black men being killed by white people ostensibly enforcing the law was everywhere you went on the internet and the protests became riots, in large part because of police overreaction and, from what I can see, because of people going out of their way to stir shit up because they know that any trouble will come back on black protesters.  It's been fucking insane.

I'd like to tell you that I've been using the fact that I look like a pretty well-preserved white woman to make a difference, putting myself between cops and protesters when I know shit is about to go down, but I haven't, and I hope like hell that it means I haven't lost touch with who I really am.  It's doubly concerning because I've been calling "Junah" and Jenn (and her ersatz family) to make sure that they're staying safe and feeling kind of proud that the conversations with the former feel really authentic.  He's not an older lady playing at being a young black man, or incensed that he's now more of a potential target in a way that he doesn't "deserve" because of how he started out.  He's not totally familiar with the nuances, but he gets it.

And maybe it's a measure of how much I've become this white woman that I'm more scared of the virus right now.  Between people not traveling and the airlines and airport doing what they can to enforce six-foot spaces, it could be a lot worse, but I do get people every day who are mad that I'm wearing a mask and cough or breathe heavy at you when they want to make some sort of point.  I've had several co-workers and friends come down with it - including one person I don't know very well who has died - and have had that swab stuck up my nose a couple of times.  Going out into a crowd, all that stuff going on...  I get that for some people like J.T., who have mostly been staying in for the past couple of months, this seems like not just a welcome but a righteous opportunity to hit the streets, but I can't help but think of the virus as the most dangerous part.

And to twist the knife just a little more...  Pete had found someone I could become.  31, African-American, female, she'd fallen into a good thing over the winter and was willing to say goodbye to her old life.  I haven't talked about it - or anything - on here because I didn't want to jinx it, but it was a chance to become a little more myself, maybe even start a family, except that the Inn being closed messed all that up and a part of me looks at the news and is glad that I don't have that to worry about.

Sorry for dumping all this, but if this blog isn't for the times when we don't know who we are, then what is it for?

-Magdaryl

Daryl/Magda: Wine O'Clock

J.T. is home this weekend, and thank God.  It's not just that I've missed him, but I've started missing me.  Not having someone around who knows that I'm not the same on the inside as on the outside was not quite exactly what I expected it to be, but it does make me wonder how far off the day is when I think of myself entirely as Magda.

That seemed impossible the last time I blogged, but I sometimes think that the Inn wants us to take the places of the people we've become, and the only thing holding us back from doing so is our own stubbornness and attachment to other things.  J.T. is my link to my old life, so while he's away, it's easy to slip into the things a woman in Magda's position does.

I've been working in this airport long enough to know my co-workers, so it's not particularly strange when they invite me to join them for a drink after work, although some do raise an eyebrow when I actually accept.  I'm worried that I won't fit in, but it's actually easier in some ways than fitting in with J.T.'s friends, who assume I've got little to say to them.  We've got work, a after all, and if you've ever been standing behind an unreasonable person while waiting in line, you know airline workers are going to have a list of grievances at the end of the day.

On top of that, there's a lot of physical things that I kind of don't realize are wearing me down until I'm not doing them any more.  Just walking down the street with a bunch of 5'6" women in their forties is kind of a revelation w when you spend most of your time trying to match the pace of younger, taller men because you think that you should be able to do so, even if you leave heels completely out of it.  So is ordering a glass of wine instead of beer or liquor.  I gather the health benefits are mostly bunk - most of the benefit ascribed to having a glass of wine or two a day also correlate to the other dietary choices wine-drinkers make - but it seems to match my palate and throat better.  It's strange but true.

They don't just talk about work, though, and the topic turning to kids is where things started getting a little surreal for me.  I can go weeks without giving Harmon a lot of conscious thought - it takes a moment or two for me to recognize that all the selfies and stuff "Alicia" posts on social media is kind of a performance as opposed to just the amounts of some ordinary girl when I'm scrolling through my phone, and then I take a moment to think about whether I'll ever go that native.

I hadn't actually watched his YouTube channel until one of the ladies was talking about how her kids don't listen to the radio or watch TV but just go to YouTube and I mentioned that my daughter had a channel just to have something to say.  Someone got out a tablet and we watched them, and I was kind of surprised how much he seemed to be enjoying himself, even doing a couple in the uniform I remember him taking off as soon as he would get home during our time living together.

(I mentioned them to Lindsey, who I kind of keep in touch with every now and then, saying that Harmon must finally be staying to enjoy his new life, but she doesn't buy it, thinking he'd just found a way to exploit himself or the next person who becomes Alicia just like he always did girls like her.)

A couple of weeks of this made me pretty happy when Jenn texted and asked if I'd take her to a movie because people keep carding her when she tries to buy a ticket to Hustlers.  I kind of laugh but say yes, heading out to the Bronx on my next day off to meet up.

She's not at the theater when I arrive and hadn't sending me messages, so I get a bit worried and walk to her address.

I get buzzed up when I say it's Magda for Paola, but when I open the door, it's her "Mom", adding that she's sorry, but the school confiscates students' phones when they've got detention.  I ask what that is about, and she just shrugs.  "I try to just let Jenn be, but if she's anything like me, she is not taking the whole racism thing well.  Pray you don't ever have to find out just how many awful ways there are to refer to Latinas in general and Puerto Ricans specially!"

I actually smiled a bit at that.  "I am a black man under all this, you know."

"Right!  Sorry!  Jenn told me.  Is it okay if I say you wear your new skin well, though?"

"I hope so; gotta keep a younger man interested, after all."

"I hear that, even if my guy sometimes seems to forget that he agreed just as much as I did overnight."  We laughed, and then she said that maybe we should lean into the middle-aged woman stereotype and have a couple glasses of wine while we wait.  Like I said, I'm willing.

It's more or less like doing the same thing with real middle-aged women; we tell stories and laugh a bit too loud, only hers are about trying to come up with excuses for why a grown man in the body of a ten-year-old girl is acting out at school and mine are about subjecting myself to a mammogram because I'd been wearing bras a size too small.  Maybe it was the wine talking, but I feel like she's the first person to find my story of trusting fate with J.T. romantic without reservation.

We were on our second glasses when Jenn and her "sister" arrived and ditched their things.  The others turned down the chance to come along, much to Jenn's relief.  I guess I technically wound up part of a fake family too, but Harmon/Alicia is not someone I have to deal with regularly.

"So, detention.  What's that about?"

I was trying to make conversation as we headed to the box office, but she just grunted.  "I'm pretty sure you mean well, Daryl, but can I just hang out with someone who will treat me as an adult and not talk about high school?"

"Sure, no problem.  So, you've been in New York longer than me - should I root for the Knicks or the Nets?"

She didn't really have an opinion on that, but it did get her to talk about the differences between the boroughs a bit, and how there could be bigger differences in traveling a few stops on the subway than across the country, and that was before trying to bluff how good your Spanish was.

The movie itself want bag, although I was expecting a heist more than a scam.  Jenn liked it, although I tried not to look in her direction too often, because I'd feel guilty even though I know she's not really a kid and is not like I've ever really been any sort of prude about what teenagers song some boobs or hearing the word "fuck".  What kind of middle-aged white woman am I becoming?

One who at least can joke about how J-Lo being 50 makes me both feel better about the age that the Inn made me and also kind of saggy in spots, I guess.  Jenn laughed at that, and asked if I'd ever tried any of those shoes, because she once bought a really ridiculous pair to give her boyfriend an anniversary surprise and felt ridiculous.  I said the original Magda had a pair, and I tried them on while sitting on the bed, but knew I'd fall flat on my face if I tried to stand, so they went to Goodwill.  She just pushed hers to the back of the closet and almost completely forgot them, but now she wonders what became of them, since she hasn't heard about new-Jenn breaking her neck.

"That got dark."

"Yeah, I'm just...  I don't know.  You ever wish you could go to therapy for this?"

"Every damn day."

"Now try it when you're not old enough to drink and have to get up for school every morning."  She yawned, and we split up at the subway.

I've got to admit, I'm really excited about J.T. Being back home tonight.  I'm ready to feel like myself again.

-Magdaryl

Daryl/Magda: Home Alone

I've always been a little wary of people who seem to define themselves in large part based on whatever relationship they're in, which sure must seem a little strange to people reading this, because I literally wouldn't be who I am now if not for being with J.T. and I talk about that a lot because this whole thing is a great but unexpected part of my life with a lot of unexpected details.

And having what I've got with J.T. makes it a lot easier to accept and be who I know myself to be.  It's just...

Well, nobody has a straight career path these days, especially for people like J.T. who know they're going to be jumping from project to project.  Even leaving the Inn out of it, he went from acting on TV to the stage, where people said he had more talent as a singer, so he did that, which led to him getting another job in a play, and now that that's closed, he's booked a four-episode arc on a show shooting in Toronto.  It's not quite back where he started, and his next thing could be anything, but it's a good job.

But it's in Toronto, and leaves me feeling weird and lonely.

He's been out of town three days, and as much as I don't want to be the woman that's all about her boyfriend, I find myself wondering if maybe I am and it makes everything else feel really unnatural.  I get home at the end of the day and clean off my makeup because there's not much reason to keep it on, and without J.T. around it doesn't feel like I'm getting enough layers off.  I look pretty good for a fifty-ish woman, but I've got to confess I've already skipped one trip to the gym.

We'd had an idea of maybe using this time to secure an upgrade so that the age difference isn't quite so striking to outsiders, but even if you know who to talk to, there's kind of a long list of people looking for "younger and prettier".  That whole side of the Inn subculture is kind of gross, when you come right down to it - I don't really think it's like buying and selling people, even if the language can sort of go in that direction, but it can sure feel like a really thorough form of identity theft, even if you verify that the people who originally led a life are giving it up willingly.  J.T. suggested I look at it as next-level plastic surgery, but even that seems creepy.

Anyway, nothing came up, so I've got another fall and winter as Magda, who has to be more than just J.T.'s girlfriend, especially since I don't have a lot of Inn crew nearby.  Pete's someone else in Massachusetts, Jenn hasn't sent new contact information, and Tylerie...  I don't know about her.  Sometimes she just seems like she wants to just act like she's always been Val, sometimes it seems like we just don't have anything to talk about, and sometimes she will say or do something that reminds me that there's a guy from the South who knows his way around a gun in there, and that I wasn't always Polish.  He's never actually done anything to make me fearful, but the stuff that burrows deep into your head when you're young doesn't leave just because you've got new skin.

On that note, I don't hang out with June/Jonah much anymore.  He seems to be acclimating pretty well, which I guess is what school will do for you - even if he was a year older than the other freshman, it was traveling to see the world, and between his own experience, reading the social media and diaries Krystle kept, and just having the confidence to bullshit a bit, he kind of made himself cool.  Too cool to have time for this middle-aged white lady.

So I guess it's time to start actually being one, every once in a while.  I've at least managed to be friendly with everyone at work, so it's not too weird when I finally say yes when someone brings up a girls' night.  Accepting the invitation feels weird - I've spent so much of the past year using J.T. to basically be myself despite looking like Magda, that actually hanging out with other Magdas is very unnerving.  But, I figure, it's not forever - I so plan to get some of these twenty years back next summer - so I might as well give it a try.

-Magdaryl

Daryl/Magda: Settling In?

I spent a couple days in April apartment-hunting with "Junah", who waited until the last minute to find a place for the summer and next school year because he was so busy just trying to live his new life without a while lot of help from anyone other than me, and while I haven't lost touch with being black or a man, college just seems like another world already.  Has it changed so much in ten years, or do you just forget?

Not that she needed my experience as a black man so much as my current self.  I was basically standing in for Jonah's parents, who still haven't come to terms with him deciding to stay his daughter's mother, or with a former white woman living his life, so while they're okay co-signing a lease, they don't want to be involved, and a young black guy looking for a place near campus is not going to have the easiest time of it.  So I pull a pantsuit out of the closet, come along and let people assume I'm his mother and he's either mixed-race or adopted.

It was weird.  I know some folks who, in my position, might get a kick out of puffing themselves up and acting like they're going to call the Better Business Bureau or something if they don't get what they want, or smile at new-Jonah finding out just how many different levels of racism there are, but it's pretty hollow.  I think we both kind of feel like we've exchanged one set of obstacles for new ones we aren't quite so sure how to navigate, and it gives us a bit of common ground with each other. 

The pronouns probably got confusing there, but that's Inn Person life to an extent.  Jonah sees himself as a guy living Krystle's life, and while he won't correct "she" all the time, it feels wrong to him.  Juliet, maybe because he's older and because he chose this life much more affirmatively than Jonah did.  He figures he's become a man, so he's a man.

And give him credit, he's been working hard to see what that means for him.  As much as he initially gravitated toward hanging out with his female classmates, he made an effort to do more "guy stuff", whether it's intramural sports, hitting up action movies, even going to a strip club one night.  That Jonah grew up in New Hampshire gives him pretty good cover when going to Harlem and otherwise trying out hip-hop and other black things.  It's sometimes kind of funny to watch, but he's out there trying, and you've got to respect that.  I'm not out there joining book clubs or stopping wine or otherwise trying to make a lot of middle-aged white lady friends.  And, who knows, when his brain finally gets over that "I'm old enough to there be her mother" reaction when a good-looking girl flirts with him.  That could totally drag him in a different direction.

Me, I'm still a solid "they" - woman in a lot of practical ways, but still thinking like a guy, and I think that J.T. likes me being kind of a guy at heart, that it cuts out a bunch of drama.  I kind of wonder if that will change should I spend more time around "other" folks like Magda.  Weird to think about.

Inevitable, though, considering some other recent visitors.  Elaine and not-Daryl made a quick trip here over the weekend and wanted to get dinner.  It kind of made me dizzy to see them sitting next to each other while I was next to J.T., because when you add it up, I've spent more time with "Elaine" as my girlfriend then I've spent as her and Magda combined, but I've been both of them, and though I know who's who, my brain keeps trying to see Elaine as J.T. and the other guy as me.  It's strange for him, too, although he's able to put on more of a facade of just meeting two folks he kind of knows.

And they're dating!  They didn't try to hide it, but they waited for me to comment on how they didn't need to hold hands so much, because there wasn't anybody they knew here.  Elaine said it started when she told J.T. not to say no to me, so there was definite attraction, so when she got back home and things were kind of in an unsettled place as between them as far as the world was concerned, and friends kept trying to get them back together, so when they wound up in the same place...

She trailed off with a shrug, so I turned to address my own face.  "Okay, I get her being attracted to me--"  We all laughed.  "--but I thought you had a girlfriend, and she was into it?"

"She was, and it got weird, dude.  Like, her new life was single and unemployed, so she could just move in with me, and it was fun - she became this really hot blonde - but after a while, she stopped using my name at all, even when we were home alone, saying it was just that she didn't want to slip when we were out, but, like, soon she was only listening to music from this other girl's playlists and...  Like, she's not planning to stay, but the way she was okay with assuming this whole other persona, not even looking for ways to be herself.  And, like, maybe she'd just switch back when we were ourselves again, but that she could kind of made me wonder about everything, y'know?"

"So when we meet at this business thing and we're able to get alone, and he could be himself and I had someone I could talk to about having been a white elementary school girl for a couple years, it was just this huge relief!  How are you supposed to not talk about that?  I mean, I can talk to Cary, but then it becomes about him and Krystle, which isn't his fault, but doesn't really help me deal with how this weird shit's gonna be in my head for a while!"

"Not gonna lie - it's kind of weird to find yourself attracted to a girl who sometimes talks about how something is like what happened at recess last year, but kind of special, too."

I look from one to the other.  "Is this an 'I want to stay like this' thing?"

He looked shocked.  "No!  The opposite - we didn't want you to hear it from someone else and get the wrong idea!  We weren't sure how well what you've got is working--"

Elaine elbowed him, but I said that was fair.  "I mean, there are challenges, but we're pretty happy."  I suddenly had a thought.  "I should text Pete."

My face looked surprised.  "You already promised him, uh, this?"

"I've brought it up, but he...  Well, he says a lot of things.  'Why would I want the body you abandoned?'  He'll joke about just getting used to being a girl, or say it's different when it's someone you know, but I kind of just think he's been bouncing around long enough that he finds it hard to commit."  My hand was next to J.T.'s, and he squeezed it, prompting me to lean over for a kiss.  "Anyway, he keeps in touch with a lot of people and has been asking around about something, well, a little more like you."  Elaine blushed as I looked at her.  "It may be destiny that I became someone J.T. could date, but maybe we could adjust it a bit.   People do talk about him and the older woman, and I haven't had a lot of luck looking for a better job."

"Hey, maybe y'all just aren't casting your net wide enough!"  Elaine pointed at her boyfriend.  "C'mon, I know you fell for this once, and maybe having been to the Inn stretches who you can be after.  I mean, everything you did and felt as me is still part of you, right?"

J.T. took a drink.  "I'd never know if we were trying to make it work, though.  Like, I pretend for a living, and I know that this is real, y'know, the way being yourselves will keep you sure what you've got is real."

"I get that.  Just wondering, since it took me so long to get home."

We finished our meal and then they went to their show.  We saw a movie and then went home. 

It was great to see them, at least.  It was a pretty good reminder that this year's Inn season is coming up fast, and even if I don't wind up changing, there's a lot of people who will have their lives turned upside-down - or right-side-up, as the case may be.

-Magdaryl

Daryl/Magda: Not for Tourists

I was a bit surprised when J.T. suggested we do Times Square on New Year's Eve; I'd kind of expected it to be the sort of thing a longtime New Yorker like him dismisses as being for tourists and newbies, but apparently not.  Rather, it's in the category of things that are too good to be surrendered to the tourists, although folks aren't necessarily combative about it. 

It is, in a lot of ways, one of the most true representations of the life I've fallen into as J.T.'s girlfriend.  There's something kind of fantastic everywhere, especially with regard to music, cameras you learn to ignore, noise, tight quarters, and your own little bubble inside them.  There was some of that in Chicago, but not to the extent there is here.

And in Chicago, he was Elaine and more or less anonymous beyond being generally sexy.

He doesn't exactly attract paparazzi right now, but it was the sort of night where we bumped into strangers, at least to me.  He knows a fair chunk of the people in the entertainment press around here, and a few wanted a quote about what he had planned for the New Year, which was a good chance to plug his play.  He hand-sells it a bit too, when someone recognizes him and asks what he's doing now.  It's not exactly top-tier show business, but it's kind of neat.

The chilly, damp weather kind of had me dressed up in weird layers, though - little black dress for the after party, but also thigh-high boots and black pantyhose because it'll be cold, and then a coat to cover everything up.  By the time the ball drops, I'm really questioning all of this - not only is this my first time being on my feet in heels for such a long stretch, but I felt pretty stupid wearing an underwire all night when the top of my dress was underneath my coat. 

Still, the heels make it easier to kiss to ring in the new year, and when we wind up in one of his co-stars' apartments, it makes for a bit of a ta-da! moment when the girls finally come out.  Not that anybody aside from the other women of a certain age and maybe some of the gay guys really act impressed.  I'm honestly not sure what that's about - maybe they find me kind of campy when I start talking hip-hop and video games or express a strong preference for Android over Apple - but it's kind amusing, especially when someone has talked to me under the assumption that I must own an airline rather than work for one to have a boyfriend so much younger than my apparent age.

That goes away once I'm a couple drinks in - I still notice people looking at me kind of funny, but I care a bit less - and it turned out our hosts had a karaoke machine.  Magda's voice isn't write the instrument I had as myself or Elaine, but I suspect that makes it more fun for everybody.

It was almost 5am by the time we got home and I could take off my shoes before ditching the dress and taking off that bra.  I gave my breasts a bit of a heft after that ("boy, you guys are demanding!"), then stopped and prodded a bit more before walking to the bed where J.T. was already half-asleep.  I climbed up and straddled him.  "Hey, squeeze my tits."

"If you insist."  He reached up and started fondling, until I grabbed one wrist and guided it.

"Not like that.  Like you're trying to find something.  You know how they're supposed to feel better than me."

He gave me a weird look, but gave my right breast a harder, less pleasant squeeze, then shook his head.  "Feels normal to me."  We joked a bit about my breasts feeling normal, which led to a little playing while I was already on top of him.

I had a hard time shaking the feeling, though, poking around every time I changed clothes, getting worried whether I thought I could feel anything or not.  I googled "breast self-examination", tried that, and then after a couple days I made an appointment for a mammogram, which was today.

The radiologist was friendly, actually trying to talk me out of it at first, saying that they actually don't recommend the procedure for women as young as me these days, at least not as a matter of course, and I smirked at how I don't hear that very often.  I still said I wanted to be sure, and she shrugged and led me into a room.

I guess I was lucky to have a woman examining me in teems of it being more comfortable, although maybe a male radiologist would have speed me enough not to go through with it.  Initially, it was just a surreal experience, as I took off my shirt and set my right breast on a shelf.  The doctor lowered another, and I squawked a bit as it started to compress the tissue.  She looked at me and asked if I was okay, because the closer they can get the plates together, the better the image will be.  I said I was just a bit surprised and tried to tough it out, but I wouldn't be surprised if the plates only got a half-inch closer together before I said that was okay.  She nodded, went behind a screen, and hit a button.

Then we repeated it three more times, getting both top-down and side-to-side images for each breast.  It hurt like hell, just another example about how guys can be real wimps about pain (I initially typed "pussies", but that hardly seems right).  I winced a bit putting my bra back on afterward.  It was going to hurt if they were hanging, but I guess I have a bit more to learn about wearing the right underwear for the occasion still.

The doctor was able to show me pictures fairly quickly, and assured me there was nothing out of the ordinary, although there was a fair rate of both false positives and negatives - was I sure I'd felt a lump?

I immediately felt embarrassed.  "I, uh, guess maybe not."

"You sure?  Tests are one thing, but a woman knows her body."

Not necessarily, I thought.  I felt a weird sort of shame with that, like I should know my body better, or should have grilled Magda and Lindsey on this, so that I wouldn't think a bruise from bumping into something while wearing too tight a bra or something like that might be cancer.  I felt like apologizing to this doctor for wasting her time.

J.T. tried to look unconcerned when I got home.  "How'd it go?"

"Healthy boobs.  Sore, but healthy.  Be glad you were to young for this when you weren't yourself."

"True that, though it's not like Elaine's cramps were any picnic."

"Word.  Don't miss that.  But, man, today was something.  It's one thing to laugh off people because they don't know the real you, but this was kind of real, y'know?"

"Yeah.  I'm glad you're up for it."  He kissed me on the forehead, gently.

"Thanks.  The guys who won't get here for a while don't know what they're in for, but I guess that's what happens when you actually become a woman, and not just a guy visiting that sort of life."

-Magdaryl