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

Steven/Shona(!!): Seeing is believing

It was 3:30 in the morning on Sunday. I rolled over in bed barely awake. I want to say I felt different but in my mind I was just... groggy and tired. I raised a hand to scratch an itch on my chest,  and immediately discovered - to my great displeasure - that it was extremely sensitive.

And squishy.

I would say that I "bolted" upright, but that would be a misstatement because it takes a different amount of muscle necessary to bolt upright in my old body vs. my new one and I guess my brain hadn't caught the difference, so it was more like a failed crunch. I got very disoriented and fumbled around for the lamp, then tried to slowly ease myself upright. By that time it was impossible to ignore all my wobbly bits.

It was real. All real. And all me.

I look like Shona now. I didn't quite at 3:30 AM but I was getting there. More and more mass ballooned out of my body. By that point my clothes were restricting me very badly where they weren't outright ripped. I should have anticipated that what I was wearing would not feel good if I were to transform into Shona while wearing it. I guess that's a function of not really believing it was going to happen, and not really thinking that critically about what would happen if it did. Scratch one pair of boxers (the V-neck I was wearing survived in stretched-out form, but left marks on my upper arms.)

I should have slept naked, but it was chilly at night. As you know from Jenn's descriptions, Shona is an XXXL. I'm a pretty stocky guy, I wear larges or extra-larges depending on the brand. Nothing I own would have been appropriate for a woman with such wide hips, prominent behind, belly, breasts and arms. Now I have all of those.

I timidly made my way over to the mirror, but on the way over it's not like I could pretend I was ignorant of what was going on. The flesh of my thighs rubbed together and I only needed to look down very slightly to see my new figure. When I finally made it, it wassuch a weird creature - half my face, half hers, and not in a cute "What would our baby look like" way. Her nose and eyes with my jaw and brow... grotesque. My beard was fading into my face, my hairline was moving forward and her long locks were inching out.

I turned away for the remainder. My body continued to swell. I knew how big she is, but it's very different when you're feeling it from the inside.

Fear and panic mixed with elation. As terrifying as this experience was, it was on some level what I wanted - answers, or at least leads on them. Confirmation that the world isn't totally crazy and yet it is - magic is real! In some form at least! And it's happening to me! I suspected I would feel miserable about the exact outcome later, but for the time being... wow. Wow! I have boobs! And... well, you know the rest.

In the morning, I did another v-chat with "Paola." She practically squealed with delight when she saw Shona's face - tired and not made-up, but really there - over top of my mug. She asked if I believed everything now, and I said what choice did I have?

She asked if I had any regrets about my decision. It took me a moment but I said no. I needed to do this. Yeah, it's not the most convenient form to be in, but I have a lot of good memories with this face and I was nearly moved to tears when I finally did see it again in the light of day.

It's not like I want to be a woman, but I really badly didn't want to be myself anymore either. And there's a very specific reason why, if this was going to happen, I was okay with it. It has to do with what I have since read that Jenn wrote about her time in this body.

I've known Shona since we were teenagers, and we've been together for a while. Her being this size has been part of my life for years. Maybe I never could have understood what she went through on a day to day basis like this, but I have seen her through lots of situations, including times when I needed to reassure her or comfort her. She never let her size get in the way of living her life.

And honestly, she deserves better than someone who is going to look in the mirror and say to themselves "This person is flawed. She is broken because she's so big." Jenn seems like a  well-meaning person, but I don't want the person who winds up with Shona's life - if it's to be permanent or whatever - to look at it as a curse. I want them to be able to love who she is the way I always thought Shona did. That was in the back of my mind when Jenn told me about how she felt about being Shona, before I knew it was real - she was saying things I just never thought Shona would really say about herself, even in her darkest moments.

I'm not ignorant. I know her appearance doesn't meet certain societal standards, and it would habe been willfully ignorant of me to pretend a woman this size doesn't experience inconveniences and challenges than a skinnier woman.

Shona is beautiful. Jenn even agreed when she saw her Insta account that she was very pretty. And to me, it's not a "beautiful for a fat girl" kind of beauty. It's real beauty. And she exuded it inside and out. And all I want - for whatever the duration of my time as her - is to embody that. I think she deserves somebody wearing her body who can see that.

In the meantime... I guess I'll go back to Gainesville and rebuild her life for her, in case she ever does decide to come back. I hope that I can find her and speak with her and learn what she is feeling. What's become of her. Hopefully, now that I know what the Inn does, we can pick up where we left off.

More thoughts later

-Steven/Shona (Stona? Sheven?)

Jenn: The Easy Way Out

When I got to the Inn the first people I encountered were my next-rooms-over neighbors: two couples, about my normal age of mid-20's. Now, one thing I have been sure to do as Shona is to clock the reactions of every person I see as I hobble around. Some gawk. Some avert their eyes. Some, usually older folks, nod courteously. And some, like these four, save their comments for after they think you're out of earshot.

And usually, they underestimate how far "earshot" is.

I've definitely learned not to take these things seriously, especially now that I knew it was not going to be permanent. As RuPaul says, what people think of me is none of my business. Don't get me wrong, it pisses me off that people think they have the right to say shit, but I was going to just let it slide as a way of owning what I had become while I still was her. In fact, I even tried to flaunt what I have through the weekend with what I wore. It was not a blazing summer heat in Old Orchard Beach this weekend, but it was temperate enough for a revealing sundress. I was probably more confident in this setting than I have been all summer.

The whole time I've been at the Inn this week, I can't stop thinking about how selfish and shallow I've been. I can't help wondering if I was motivated by some part of me that just wanted the opportunity to dump Shona's body before next summer and move on already. But I stand by the logic - if Steven was intent on barging up to the Inn willy nilly it was best if he takes a body that is not spoken for and the only one at hand is Shona's. Since I'll probably never see my real face in the mirror again, it's no problem if I have to move on, but Steven? He still has a chance.

And hey, if you're going to put yourself through the trouble, why not do it to experience something very, very different from who you started out as?

If I say "he didn't need much convincing" that probably makes it sound like he was really into the idea, but I would categorize his reaction as just, he reluctantly saw my point. When he announced he was determined to go to the Inn and find the truth for himself, it didn't occur to him that he was playing a very dangerous game. And since I am mixed up in it on a permanent basis I decided I needed to help him. So I told him to get used to the idea of bras and periods, for a start.

So the plan is for Steven to become Shona. There are advantages there: it's a body and a life he knows. We know where the body has been and who it should go back to (or rather, that nobody is "expecting" it.) And yes, he is a man who will be spending some time as a woman. I asked him to take a beat and make sure he could wrap his head around that. I think he came up against a wall in his belief. I guess getting laid off was the "life-changing moment" that allowed his disbelief to crack, the way weddings and funerals are for others. But I think there's still that doubt there. Like maybe he wouldn't agree to it if he really thought it would come true.

I honestly don't know if he's ready for what he's gotten himself into, but who ever is?

Before I arrived, I nursed a hope that my new body would be more along the lines of Shona's than anything else, if only to try to prove to myself that I could live as this person, that I wasn't just taking the easy way out. Make me some fat sweatu trucker, I deserve it. The things I have thought, and written, about my brief time as Shona proves that I could stand to grow.

Well, it didn't work out that way. And I knew it from the second I got here, if the luggage I found was any indication...

Last night, I felt my flesh start to tingle, even more intensely than ever before, maybe because I was shrinking, shrinking down. Shona's clothes seemed to expand around me but in reality, all my extra fat and flab was condensing inward until it disappeared, leaving a tight, feminine frame.

For better or worse, I'm so skinny I can see my ribs. I have hips, and a waist again. I have petite breasts and a thin neck and skinny legs. I have what you might call an ideal female body. Except... it's only fourteen years old.

Meet Paola Vasquez, a Puerto Rican girl from Queens, who had come to Maine with her parents, younger sister and boyfriend. One couple from the next rooms over became "my parents" (they did not switch genders) and the other, well... the girl became "my" boyfriend, a high school football player, and her boyfriend is wearing pigtails and attending the fifth grade.

Obviously, after the change, there was a lot of talk about what to do next, and being that several of us are "dependent" now, there was a pressing need to get back to Queens and get established in these new lives.

It's... going to be an interesting year, I think, and if I remember the ninth grade well enough Paola won't be missing too much this year that she can't make up later. I might not blog about it too much just because I don't want to give too much info away about the teenage girl whose life I am living. I've already given a fake name here, so don't try Googling it.

Besides, I might be too busy with schoolwork.

Steven, I hope you find what you are looking for.

Best,

-Jenn/Paola

Jenn: Back to the Inn Part 3

Don't look at me, it wasn't my idea. I just went along with it.

It began about a month ago. Steven and I had been out a few times and I hadn't found any major flaws other than he just didn't inspire much passion in me. He was kind and thoughtful and caring and funny and I wanted to like him.

I decided to have sex with him after our third outing. As anyone who recalls my fling with Pete knows, sex is something of a big deal for me because I need it in my life and yet I have a lot of barriers. With David I had built trust with (which I had thought was strong.) With Pete I had someone I liked but due to knowing April's appearance was not his own I was hesitant and in the end it did not last.

I am obviously feeling very different since then - about myself  "my" body, my world. I let Steven in as much because it was simple and convenient for me, because, feeling as negatively as I do about being in Shona's body (and again, more on that later) I didn't feel like I had much choice. It was him or permanent celibacy.

Another factor, which also makes me sick to think of but is definitely part of it, was feeling like he "deserved" it. I try not to do it as a "reward" for men's (or anyone's) behavior but out of true mutual desire. That desire wasn't really burning for me, but I wanted him to be happy because I felt for the guy, being left with no answers as to why, undeservedly. I was in a position to make this man happy in a way few others could. He deserves better than me as Shona, and honestly better than the real Shona has treated him, but I'm all he had.

It didn't stop me from crying though.

It wasn't very romantic. On our third or fourth date I basically sat there thinking to myself "If this guy doesn't do anything to screw it up I might as well have sex with him tonight." And I tried to be excited for that (because yay sex!) But also stay out of my head and not look for minute reasons why not.

As usual he was good, inoffensive company so at the end of the evening I invited myself up and of course he was willing.

It was good. I want to stress that. It felt good to be kissed, to be touched, to be paid attention to. I liked it. I just found it hard to stop thinking about my physical appearance negatively and to feel sexy. It felt very detached for me by the end, which I didn't like.

And of course, he was making love to another woman.

I cried. We did it a half dozen times in two weeks and I cried almost every time, mostly quietly to myself. I wasn't even sure what I was crying over specifically, I just knew I had plenty of reasons.

Eventually he noticed and asked - because, you know, he's sensitive and concerned. I started by trying to lie and say I had no idea but the part of me that wants to be truthful blurted out between sobs, "I'm not who you think I am!"

He tried to reassure me and say of course I was, that he knew me inside and out and he knew me enough to know he truly loves me. I told him he wasn't getting it and he never would.

He said to try.

So I did. I blurted out about how I appeared to him to be Shona Nash but really I was a different person and my real name is Jenn. That when Shona took her trip to Maine she was transformed into a different person - I don't know who - and left me to be transformed into her, and I was trying to cope with "all of this" as best I could,  but it was "a big change" and I was still getting used to it, and I just wanted to feel normal (and sexy) again, but it wasn't working, and I feel so bad for being a fake and a liar. And I felt like he deserved better than a fake Shona.

He, um... I don't think he got it. He said whatever the problem really was we could work through it, but there was no need to push him away. I cried some more, having given it my best shot. I just told him to think about it, that someday soon I might say something the real Shona never would and to keep all of this in mind. He just kind of laughed it off but I hoped he would remember.

Then last week he came to me and said he wanted to talk.

He had just been let go from his job. He was working as a culinary scientist for a local ice cream company - I had to stifle a laugh at that, the Big Girl dating the Ice Cream man, but it wasn't funny. He felt he had helped build the company over five years and was frustrated that they had dropped him. He had spent a night just driving around town, wanting to call me... but something stopped him. And he thought back to what I had said about not being the real Shona, and he was giving it more and more thought.

"I don't know what to do," he said. "If you're really not Shona, and she left me, I want to know why. A hole has opened up in my heart that I need filled but I think I'm never going to understand fully, unless..."

My eyes widened. He couldn't possibly be saying it...

"Unless I do this. It's possible, right? If it's real, then I'll know for sure."

"Steven, you can't--" I said, "I can't let you do that to yourself! If you go to the Inn there is a *high probability* you never get to be yourself again. It's too risky and I would never deliberately put someone in that situation."

"Shona... Jenn... if I've lost you, and my job, I don't know what I have left. If everything you told me is true, I need to know, and the only way I can ever know is to do it myself. I can't stop thinking about it."

"It's too unpredictable," I said, "Too much can go wrong. Believe me, Murphy's Law lives at the Inn."

"I know where it is, I'm going with or without your blessing."

"Whatever you're looking for, it's not in Maine."

"It's not in Gainesville either," he huffed.

"Okay, okay, don't be hasty," I said, "Maybe there are some controls we can put on this."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the Inn closes down in September. After the last block of reservations, I think the people who stayed there last, their bodies get left in some kind of limbo. So if you stay there last, there's a chance you can come back in the spring and reclaim your true body."

Steven looked at me again like I was nuts - like the details only made it sound more fake.

"And maybe it would be for the best if you knew exactly who you were becoming. The Inn can be very random and I wouldn't want you to get too messed up."

"What are you suggesting?" He asked suspiciously.

"Well," I said, my face turning beet red as I broached the topic, "There really only is one option..."

Jenn/Shona: The Mystery of Shona

I have been Shona Nash for over two months 1now. I have cried as her, sweat as her, bled as her. Once or twice I've smiled, laughed, even danced as her. I still don't really know who she is, or was.

From the way people who know her act around me, she seems like she was fun, intelligent, and had a biting sense of humor they were borderline afraid of. On balance it seems like she had a good life, and she knew it. But I can only draw the conclusion that there's a reason she didn't want to live it anymore.

In my head it seems obvious. I mean hello. Take everything that's hard about being a woman and multiple it by 100 when you're this size. The world isn't built for you, people on the street look at you like a freak. I ballooned up literally overnight so of course I was not going to handle it well, not right at first. Did Shona ever get used to it?

I have become damn near obsessed with figuring this woman out. On her social media she seems more comfortable in her skin than I could ever hope to be, with lengthy rants on body positivity under her pics, mant of which do show considerable skin (rolls and all.) She seemed proud to be Shona. Why run from it? Deep down was it an act? Did something better come along? I'm dying to know but I may never.

In that spirit I decided to keep trying with Steven. If he was good enough for her perhaps there was something to that. But I wanted to try on my terms. Physical limitations be damned I wanted to hike some of the trails here. New York was fun but nothing compares to the true outdoors. I invited him alog.

Steven was a little confused but game. So we packed some backpacks with plenty of water and granola and took a hike. It was exhausting. My feet throbbed, my body was rashy with sweat and chafing. My god, next time, remind me to pick up some anto-chafe stick for my... everything.

Steven complained, probably just tryong to make a joke of it. Normally in that situation I'd tell him to man up but I was right there with him. But I didn't voice my own complaints since I was the one who spurred this. My role was to urge us on, to make sure it became an enjoyable day at all costs.

We settled in a secluded area to rest and est and got to talking, which for me meant very delicately feeling him out and trying not to sound like we just met. I know the "curse" is supposed to... well, I'm not even sure but I was counting on it to avoid raising suspicion but I didn't want to invite any questions either way.

I wonder, the longer I drag this out, if he'll find it weird that I forgot where he works, or how many siblings he has, or what his favorite band is.

He asked me why the sudden health kick. I said it wasn't a kick, this is what I'm interested in going forward. I haven't decided what to do, if it's disrespectful go start going hard in the gym and try to make Shona's body something it wasn't (and may not realistically ever be) or if I should just accept that this is me now and make do. In either case, the hiking isn't a weight loss thing, it's just something I enjoy. It's harder and more problematic for me now but I don't want the Inn to take that away from me.

I wasn't sure how to tell him that though. I guess when you're big, people think it defines you and everything must be in service to weight loss. I'm guilty of that too.

Did Shona leave her life because she hated being fat? Or was it something else? Maybe I'll never know. I thought of asking Steven, coyly if possible, if I ever mentioned anything like that  but... honestly, if I were her, that's the last person I would tell. She went to the Inn without him and as nice as he she doesn't seem to be missing him.

A shame. He's nice, he deserves better.

Jenn/Shona: Trying

After several days of putting it off, I decided to meet with Steven. It almost seemed unfair to be holding him back this way, even if from my perspective he's a total stranger who only thinks he has a right to my time.

As that last paragraph should tell you, I was and am still extremely bitter about (gestures around wildly) all this, up to and including being told "this stranger thinks you're his girlfriend."

My thing is, I so badly want to live my life, my way. But that's so not possible. The life I lived as Jenn - oh God we're getting to the point where Jenn is a past-tense person aren't we? - no longer exists. The man who took my life made some terrible choices, besmirched my name, and will live out his days being punished for it. As me. My stomach turns at this.

Steven won me over, or wore me down you could say, by showing a lot of respect and concern for me during this time. Yes, he was texting constantly, giving me updates on his life and asking how I was, but he really seemed to care, and when I indicated I wasn't feeling up to engaging with him, he demonstrated that he respected my privacy and reminded me he would be available instantly if I felt I needed someone.

Well damn! Steven, why did you have to be so good?

I do need someone. I hate to feel like I'm using him as some kind of emotional crutch here but a lot has been put on my plate lately and sympathetic ears have been hard to come by.

So I agreed to meet him for ice cream. Now, I still haven't gotten over my self-consciousness of my appearance to where being seen enjoying a double scoop on a hot day doesn't feel a little embarrassing - like, "look at the fat chick going to down on that sundae" - but I really am trying to lean into this "fuck the haters" thing and be body-positive. I might have some trouble with it behind closed doors but out in public, it's their problem and their opinions aren't worth hearing.

Besides, more of America looks like me than like Chrissy Teigen.

With some reservations I agreed to meet him. I had a hard time figuring out my exact wording, how to set up a date that wasn't quite a date, where I could basically say "Hey, this is to determine if I want to actually have you as my boyfriend." I thought about breaking his heart. I didn't want to do that without at least meeting him. I owed him that.

We went. I was more nervous than I thought I would be, since I haven't had a real first date in years. I wore some of Shona's nicer clothes and even pit on makeup - but I was a little out of practice and Shona's face is quite different from what I'm used to so the result was not quite up to my standards, or what I'd seen from Shona's social media. I suspected Steven wouldn't notice though.

The weirdest part was as much as I wanted him to like me, I realized that was almost an afterthought and what I was really nervous about was whether I would like him. On the one hand I built him up in my head as a really exceptional guy and how much of a relief that would be after all I've been through, and on the other I was afraid of liking him too much and feeling like I had to stay with him, feeling like I couldn't bring myself to let him down, trying to let him into my life while he is convinced I am actually a totally different woman. It would be so much easier if he just... sucked.

The reality was somewhere between. His face was very kind, very plain, round with a beard. Two years ago, when I was me and in a very different headspace than today, I would have swiped past him on Tinder with hardly a thought. He seemed very mild and meek. Physically I didn't think he took overly good care of himself. Everything about him seemed to me to be the kind of person who would be with someone like Shona, and maybe, based on her Instagram feed where she's having fun and living out loud, lucky to be with her.

If it had truly been our first date, and I was me, he might have been too intimidated to do anything and been poor company. As it was it was clear he was at ease with Shona. I liked that. There were moments where it felt like he took our setup for granted - overly physical, some tellingly obnoxious remarks I guess I was expected to find amusing and a lot of the conversation was anecdotes about people and tings I guess I was supposed to know or care about, which was boring for me - but mostly he was quite nice. I had to remind myself there was a reason he wasn't working too hard to impress me, and that from his perspective the relationship is established and lived in. He sure did act like it.

I paid him a kiss at the end of the night and told him candidly that I was at a crossroads, and that might mean putting "us" on hold. That it wasn't personal really - all it was was about me - and I owed it to him to be straight up.

He accepted that without question. That annoyed me. I actually kind of wanted him to fight back.

It all left me more uncertain than when I went in. I had hopes he would fall one way or the other - jerk or saint - but as with most things in life it wasn't so clear cut. If I was with him he might actually be the nicest person I've ever dated, but niceness isn't everything.

Do I feel like I deserve better than what I've been given? Maybe. But is it realistic to throw away a potentially good thing?

I just don't know.

-Jenn/Shona

Jenn/Shona: How To Be Fat

Not to harp on it or anything but... I'm fat. Borderline obese, in medical terms. I can't seem to forget about it, so why try letting you?

I say that word to myself every day, you know. As a way of trying to own it and get okay with it. The way people tap dance around the obviousness of it all.. curvy, plus-sized, "bigger" "full figured"... it's all just a nice way of saying "fat." But "fat" is a fact. I might as well admit it. Reclaim the word... somehow.
I'm trying to be okay with it but so far it's been very hard. I can't get over the change. It feels too different form how I started. Going from being Jenn to being Zack was in someways easier. I'm very aware of the space I take up, of the reactions from strangers that I pass on the street. Of how I look if I try to eat anything. If it's bad food, "Ugh, she just can't help herself!" If I try to eat a salad, "Bless her heart, she's trying!" Damn it all.

Shona left behind an interesting example to follow. On her Instagram she is a very pretty woman - great at make-up, keeps her hair well-styled, with this very confident, "Give No Fucks" image. she dresses stylishly in a way that highlights her body rather than trying to downplay it. On the woman in the Insta feed, I think it looks good, and "good for her" for looking so pretty. When I try it on myself, I feel like a fake. I feel like I don't know how to be "that" person. Not yet. I aspire to it for sure, but it's frustrating trying to get there, outwardly and inwardly. To learn the ins and outs of dressing and styling yourself when you're a fat girl. To feel good about yourself. To feel like you deserve to look good.

Steven has texted me. A lot. I have kept him at arm's length. I don't like being "bequeathed" someone's old boyfriend. I took my time getting back to Gainesville and didn't let him know when I arrived. He didn't take the hint and is happy to "give me space" but won't stop checking in or updating me on the minutiae of his life. I suppose it fits... we're supposed to be a couple. I can see why someone would want to be with this guy, but I am so far from being "there" it's more of a nuisance than anything.

I guess I can't completely bring myself to cut the cord. I look at myself in the mirror and think, if this is "it" for me, where am I going to find someone who wants me, who I think I deserve? I know that's just an awful thought, but I guess I've been brainwashed and I can't quit it.

It wouldn't feel right to pursue anything with this guy, and yet I feel like he's, well... a bird in the hand.

On the plus side... it's beautiful here. Georgia is very scenic and there's lots of hiking trails. I only wish I felt fit enough to spend much time on them, so that's another thing that weighs on me... so to speak.

I bought a new camera, since I got the photography bug from Zack. It makes me a little homesick for Colorado, but it's nice in its own way.  I'll probably never be home again.

Excuse me while I cry a minute...

-Jenn/Shona

Jenn: Back to the Inn Part 2

It was shocking to realize I was going from being lean, athletic Zack to overweight Shona.

I hadn't expected it based on her photo. Maybe it was out of date. Maybe the DMV lighting flattered her. But really I guess I expected... in my imagination, being a woman meant being my old self. My old proportions, a face not too different from my own.

As I lay there I just felt... heavy. And dejected. My only thought was... how am I going to do this? How am I going to face the world looking this way?

It's shameful, really. I thought I would have more... I don't know, body positivity. Open mindedness. Well it's all well and good whwn you have years to work on self-acceptance.  But it's a whole different matter if your body transforms in a night. It takes time to process. Later, once I had accepted my fate, I beat myself up over fixating on myself, my looks my new figure. I probably seem so shallow and superficial.

I heaved myself upright. I made my way over to the mirror. I wanted to see my new face in realtime. She was actually quite pretty. (I know, I'm fixated on appearances but people treat you based on your appearance most of the time and mine has changed drastically!) Big round green eyes, a cute little nose and full lips. But beneath that face, two or three chins.

I didn't even want to think about sleeping. How could I? I was so uncomfortable. I texted Pete. "Done transforming. Don't think I can sleep." A minute later there was a knock at the door. I was hesitant to open it. I was still naked. I threw a blanket over myself like a robe and opened the door a crack.

The face there gave an involuntary jump of wide-eyed surprise upon seeing me, a prelude to how people would look at me from now on.

Even in shadow I could tell Pete had won the lottery again. He was older now than I had ever seen him, for sure, but it was hard to pin down his new body's age. When he said 41, I thought wow, she's even better preserved than Lena because she could pass for late 20's or early 30's. She was larger than April (I think - hard to tell from here) but still petite, with a curvy mom bod and well-styled shoulder-length sandy brown hair (definitely dyed but still.) She wore April's pjs, and they were only a little missized. I took in her cheekbones and angular jaw and felt a pang of envy.

As he stepped in he probably did his best to be delicate, saying "wow what a change, how do you feel?" I was probably similarly not considerate in hiding my feelings by saying "Better than I look, probably," which was also probably downplaying how I felt. I paced the room trying desperately  ot to let my footfalls be too heavy, trying not to jiggle my extra flesh, as I tried to mentally come to grips with my new reality.

It's only a body, I told myself. It is just my exterior shell. I'm still me inside... yeah, I thought, but I was facing a year of people looking at me like there was something wrong. And worse, I knew I was going to be ne of those people too. It just wasn't going to be something I wanted to deal with. I wanted a nice, easily-ignored body that could get from point a to point b and maybe wouldn't look too bad in a little black dress.

I distracted myself by asking if Pete knew who he was. He said Laura Carling - a mother of two from the Boston suburbs. I was disappointed to hear this meant our journey together was over, but it made me feel very justified in thinking we would have been wrong to pursue anything that might complicate matters. Given how completely unsexy I felt in that moment it seemed to be for the best.

Once we talked through Pete's situation, the topic turned to the 250-lb gorilla in the room. I had located a lengthy typed note from the original Shona. She detailed her recent employment history and some moderate health issues, and her relationship with a guy named Steven.

As I read it through it I reached this paragraph and my hands shook:

"As surprised as I was to find myself in this situation - transformed, reborn, whatever you may call it - I have decided to embrace it. I am Shona Nash no more. Do what you will with the life I leave behind. Please make no attempt to contact me. If I need to, I will find you."

I was struck. I had lost my body and now here was someone happily casting their asidd. What had she found i her new life, did it even matter? She didn't say, nor did she obviously point out why she had to leave it. I assumed automatically it was related to her body.

I just sunk. I know from Tyler how hard it can be to get into a situation where keeping a body doesn't feel like stealing... and how crazy it would be to pass up the opportunity like this. But I'm not prepared to commit to being Shona permanently. I just... can't make that decision right now.

Jenn: Back to the Inn Part 1

A month ago, we headed off to the Inn. I put in a lot of work smoothing things over with Pete, not that he would ever have declined to go back, but I want things to be good between us because there's an outside chance that we're not done taking this ride together. We did get separate rooms, in an effort to ensure Zack and April get sorted back to their proper places.


The first few days were relaxing as Pete and I had managed to get in ahead of the crowd. We had good weather and hung out on the beach. Knowing there was no chance we would be transforming soon was both relaxing and stressful. We talked some, but it was awkward because anytime the conversation turned to the future, I cringed. If the topic came up my mind would spiral at the possibilities.

Of course the first thing I did when we got there was to open the suitcase in my room. I was extremely relieved to find it was that of a woman. While I have enjoyed peeking through to the male experience, I just don't feel loke that's who I truly am. Maleness is so intoxicating though... Being treated the way everyone probably should be treated, beig listened too and admired rather than dismissed. And there's something to be said for being tall, leanly muscled and hamdsome. But I knew I would feel more at home in the body of a woman. When I looked and saw I was to assume the life of one Shona Nash, 23, of Gainesville, Georgia, I practically squealed. I knew it wouldn't be permanent but it felt like a heartening move.

I was downright giddy for the  hance to be a woman again. Hair and makeup, fashion, girltalk... I would even welcome periods and bras. It's not out of dislike for being male, truly Zack's was a great body to be in but it's not "me" and somehow, perversely, I would give up all the privileges on manhood, the raw primal experidnces of Feeling Male, to get back in touch with my feminine side.

I studied her face over and over across the days. There's not much you can learn from the overtly serious bland face on a drivers license photo. Was she fun? Easygoing? Driven? Friendly, mean? Did she have a sense of humour, did she cook?

Was her family missing her?

So many questions and no answers. I dared not rifle through her things further. That was for later. You never know.

It was around midnight on Saturday night that I guess the magic started to happen. My skin felt... itchy, tingly, hot and cold. Like hives mixed with a charge of static. If you didn't know what it was you would probably sleep through it, but I was waiting. I had sequestered myself in my room in anticipation for days, to ensure I was where I was supposed to be for Zack.

I waited and waited. It was maybe an hour of just that feeling and noting obvious happening. I thought maybe I felt a gurgling inside me - perhaps my insides were becoming Shona's? I kept changing position, pacing the room, feeling my hair to see if it was growing. Finally I was reaching over to grab my phone and text Pete to check on him, when I noticed my fingers had become more stubby and slender. The hue of my skin had changed ever so slightly.

Good, I thought. I stood up straight, expecting to start shrinking anytime now.

I stripped naked. From what I could see looking down, my legs were now hairless, as was my chest. My pecs and abs were softening too. I bid them a fond farewell. The penis was noticeably retracting, which was fascinating to watch, and for an instant it was like I was a man with no penis and the faintest of breasts.

I liked that. I immediately felt reborn. I would miss the strength and confidence that I jad come to associate with that appendage, and yet losing it didn't make me feel weaker, it energized me.

My body started to take of a familiarly feminine shape as Zack's hips grew round and wide. Those pecs started to swell and sag. But they weren't the only things. My hips seemingly doubling in width from Zack's. Hm, I thought. That's quite... extreme.

I had no idea.

As dark hair draped itself across my shoulders, my nipples expanded across my breasts, whoch were swelling out bigger and bigger. I started to pace again and felt the movement of a bulkier mass behind me than I expected. I reached back and ran my hands across the surface of my bum - a much much bigger territory than I was expecting to find.

I noticed that my thighs had swollen out into each other, and my once rather well defined arms soon became saggy with flab. My belly had been softening through this but it soon became clear it was ballooning too, forming rows of rolls.

I lay back on the bed and felt the frame creak and sag under me. I hyperventilated, waiting for the end.

Jenn/Zack: Barriers

I'm attracted to Pete as April.

I'm confused about it, but more than that I'm confused as to why I'm confused about it. I've already indulged my hetero-male interests with David, and I know I was/am attracted to Alexa. I can do it. I could be doing it. Why don't I want to be doing it? What's my problem?

She's really cute, and the person inside is so smart and worldly. I love talking to him. I like being around him. I've kissed those lips, caressed thst skin, and it's elicited a physical response from me... the kind thst says Go! Go for it! But we only have once.

It was a nice night. A magicsl night. Pete is rhe kind of person who knows how to show you a good time. I was intoxicated - not just by the wine but by his magnetic presence. When we got home, it was a certainty what was going to happen. Kick off our shoes, pull off each other's clothes... lock away any doubts about what you were doing.

We went through with it, but the memory is tainted by my not heeding all the doubts I had before and during.

And it's because I know it's not real. And this is not fair to Pete or to me, but I have to obey that feeling.

That person he is dressing in lacey underwear for my benefit, that person whose hand I'm holding? That is not Pete, it's April. There is a difference to me and I respect it. That is another woman's body and life I am toying with, we are toying with. I suppose it would be different if we knew April would never be herself again, like Valerie, but that's not the case.

Why was it okay for me to hook up with David as Lena? I'm not sure it was. Only that I knew the man inside (so I thought). When I looked at "her" I knew who I thought I was seeing. When I look at Pete, I see April. Nobody else seems to have this problem, but I do. That's not a judgment on them but of me. I wish I didn't. Pete is beautiful inside and I wish we could explore what we have, and yet, all I see are barriers. I feel physically ill with guilt when trying to make love to Pete as April. It feels shallow to feel like I need the person I am making love with to mentally and physically be the same, because for Pete that's not possible.

Pete is normally understanding but this has frustrated him, so whatever we had is done. He is honorable so every plan we had, with regards to Maine, is intact, but I can't say the same for David, who has cut me out of the loop, and as far as I know intends to stay as Lena. Shocking considering he hates being female, but he clearly enjoys her money and status, so...

You think you know somebody.

You think you know yourself.

I'm sorry Pete. But we are wanderers together. Maybe something will happen in our next lives that will help us through this, or take us apart for good. You deserve to be happy.

I've never been so scared or so lonely through this.

-Jenn/Zack

Jenn/Zack: What's next

If it's been quiet around here, it's not because we haven't been busy. We have to be, since even in Jersey, rent isn't cheap. I have been busting my ass to get referrals for my mediocre photography, which has gotten off the ground thanks to Alexa -- having an absolutely gorgeous woman linking you in her Insta posts really does a lot for your profile.

In celebration, Alexa and Ryan invited me and "April" out to dinner at a restaurant Ryan knew - a real up and coming hipster place. Pete didn't want to go, knowing how crappy Ryan had been and that he still hadn't been caught, but I was insistent. I didn't want to feel like a third wheel, and I still have trouble relating to guys as guys - in mixed company they're not so bad but if I have to have a one-on-one conversation with Ryan it's likely he'll say something that turns my stomach.

Plus, there were certain thoughts that I wanted to avoid having when Alexa is around.

Honestly, it's been hard to process, because when I'm around her, my hormones go off like a neon sign saying "YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO THIS!" But I get a churning feeling in my gut because I'm not a guy and if I'm lucky I won't be much longer so there would be no point in pursuing someone like her. Or anyone. Plus, she's with Ryan, even though he doesn't deserve her. And when I see them together it just pains me.

I had hoped that being "in character" with April would distract me enough, but really, compounding a secret with a lie just turns out to quadruple the negative feelings. I was constantly wondering what my body language was saying, if I was staring too long at Alexa, not looking over at April enough., if I was "passing" as male with Ryan, while simultaneously feeling the urge to fight him.

Ryan asked n innocent question about our relationship, April and Me - asking about how the last time he heard about me, I was dating that older woman. I tried to wave it off as jut a fling (and not let on that it involved a serious heartbreak) and that April, who in cover story I was with for years, was my true love. But it was hard to say those things and mean it.

Pete looked lovely, taking the opportunity to make himself very pretty and sophisticated, wearing beautiful earrings and a silvery, low-cut dress that he said was the nicest thing April owned and that he didn't think he'd get a chance to wear... any guy would be lucky to have a woman like that on his arm. I wished I could have appreciated it but I was far too distracted.

Pete deserved to be congratulated too. He had found a new job in short order, unsurprising based on April's resume and his own capabilities. It's a short-term contract too, which always sounds like such a ripoff but works out perfectly since it ends just as we are supposed to be going to the Inn this summer.

After we parted ways it was a long ride out of the city. Now it was Pete's turn to seem distant and distracted. I asked what was wrong.

"Well, I'm a little let down," he sighed. "I shouldn't be surprised, and I'm not taking it personally or anything, but... I kind  of thought this would work."

"What would?"

"This," he said, gesturing to his body, his dress, his hair and makeup. "Its... a lot, don't you think? Put a lot of work in here. I know I can't compete with Alexa - hell, if I was still on the guy side of the equation I'd be eyeing her all night the way you were. But I thought maybe I could draw some of that attention for myself."

He sighed. "It's stupid. I feel like an idiot for... thinking... anything, I guess. It's been a long time since I liked anyone as much as I like you, Jenn. I'm a romantic at heart, but just like you, I care too much to trick anyone into being with me while I look like someone else. The only shot at happiness either of us has is with someone like us."

I was shocked. We've been getting along well as "housemates" and really enjoying each other's company... I guess I just thought that was where it ended. But I appreciated that he was being open and honest with me.

I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind. We're two people of compatible sexes sharing a space. I've seen "April" in all but the fullest state of undress, gotten familiar with his habits and quirks, shared jokes. It has been a little bit like a relationship - the settled, later parts. It's just that, after years with David, maybe I was hoping to be swept off my feet again. Or sweep someone off their feet.

I took my time in crafting my response as a long silence fell between us. "I just think..." I said, treading lightly to be sure if this really was what I thought, "If we're only... you know... together... because that's the easiest, or only option... is that healthy? Don't we deserve better?"

He smiled - oh, wow, how that smile lights up a room, if I'm being honest - "This has been a hreat month for me, Jenn. What could possibly be better than this?"

He touched my hand. Those soft little fingers on my rough ones.

I felt warmth inside me.

My heart started beating faster.

I wanted to kiss her right there and then.

Why... why not?

I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers. I hadn't kissed anyone in a little while, and I haven't kissed anyone new in a long while - I mean, technically, when I kissed David as Lena for the first time that was someone new, but this was something else.

I can't deny it was better. Whether because, on a shallow level, I'm more attracted to April than I was to Lena (who had beauty, but you know, the age thing and being my first "woman",) or because I was just so excited for someone to be thinking of me that way again... it was long, and hungry and passionate before we knew it.

We made out all night, and when we weren't making out we were talking like old friends, unburdening ourselves in ways we hadn't yet in all the weeks we'd been living together. I didn't know if it would just end up being one night of passion, or something more, but my eyes felt opened for the first time.

"So, does this mean," I asked around 3 AM, "I can start sleeping in the bed?"

She flashed pink-red: "Let's just take it one step at a time, okay? We have months."

Fair enough, I said...

We did fall asleep in each other's arms, though, sitting upright in a position that felt comfortable at first but left me sore in the morning.

I had left my phone in the other room. When I checked it in the morning, there was a long text from Alexa.

There was a bit of preamble, but essentially it was saying how she's never had a guyfriend like me before, and there she's starting to wonder if there's something there - a better connection than she has with Ryan. She says, she hates herself for thinking it but maybe I feel the same way and that's why I seem so indifferent about April.

She said she was sorry for putting it out there if I didn't feel the same way, but she couldn't get it out of her head.

My heart sank at that... talk about terrible timing.

-Confused Jenn

Jenn/Zack: Mope

When I left off, I had broken up with David and, immediately afterward, been told that I was not getting my body back. Not this year at least, but I might as well consider it a life sentence since nobody ever seems to get back to normal if they miss their first chance. The asshole in my body couldn't even go a year without turning my home into a meth lab, so I know I can't rely on them. I might as well consider that a lost cause.

I've been in mourning. It feels like every day I think of some new thing I'll never see again. My parents, my brother and sisters, my grandmother, my cousins, my family dog... my old job, my co-workers, the clothes I liked wearing, my hometown. Now I'm screwed, doomed to wander around through life, always pretending to be someone else. I feel like I have no purpose, except to keep Zack's life ready for him. Nothing matters anymore. Nothing feels like "me."

I'm mad at David for not telling me, as well as basically breaking off all communications. It's just as well since in this state I've been missing him and dying for something comfortable and safe, even though it would be a mistake to go back with him. The further I get from him the more the details of our relationship seem like a nightmare. As Lana, he had so much power over me but it wasn't enough.

Pete has been so helpful. She's been there and she seems to have a lot of patience for my mopiness. Pete has a gentle soul. Pete has "been there" in a lot of ways and can guide me through what I'm dealing with.

Which makes what happened next feel that much worse. That asshole David had the balls to fire Pete/April two weeks ago.

You can't tell me it wasn't personal. Pete has been above and beyond the call of duty for April's position, basically doing the job of an executive while officially only being an EA. There are other VP's but they are subject to Lena's directives, and those directives have been coming from Pete.

When Pete told me, she put a brave face on it. So much the better - April was officially overqualified, and with Pete's brain and her CV, there was a good chance this was a great opportunity. They've been collaborating, long-distance, over what kind of jobs April is interested in applying for, since she's the one who will end up doing it. We can't afford to make it through the spring unemployed until we go back to the Inn.

It just provides more reason to be livid at David, that he would pull a stunt like this. Somehow there are no laws to prevent this, since at-will employment is a thing and even though it's so nakedly personal there's no recourse Pete can take. It's just David screwing himself because he doesn't like Pete and doesn't like that he is helping me out.

I'm angry, and sad, and lonely all the time and I want this experience to end.

-Jenn

Jenn/Zack: What the HELL???

Breaking up with David was the hardest, most gut-wrenching process of my life. It took days of fighting and negotiating and going back and forth endlessly on text and e-mail and in person.

Before pulling the trigger, I had to make sure my bases were covered - since I have been cohabitating with him and basically using Lena's bank account as my sole means of support, I first contacted Pete and confirmed that he would be okay if I crashed on his couch until I got on my feet. Then I started lining up potential clients for "my" photography business, which was a little feeble but it was better than nothing.

I spent days mentally rehearsing my arguments, trying to figure out the most direct yet delicate way to bring it to him. The hardest part was figuring out when to initiate the breakup, since if I waited for a heated moment, an argument of some sort, I risked getting distracted. I wanted us both to be clear-headed. And I hoped that we could walk away with no hard feelings.

I don't know how well I have described David, but that really was wishful thinking.

The moment I got the first line out of my mouth ("David, we should talk...") he went on the defensive, disputing everything, insisting that if there was a problem it was me, and I was a mooch and making him do all these awful things like live as a woman and "enjoy getting f*cked like one" as if I'm in any way responsible for anything he did or chose during his time. He insinuated that we wouldn't be breaking up if I had been the woman and he the man (possible, but irrelevant) and that I really just wanted to go off and "enjoy my c*ck" with some other "b*tch" like "that tr*nny Pete." He told me to go, I was more trouble than I was worth, that he didn't love me either, that I'd regret leaving him, etc etc.

I grabbed my stuff and left for Jersey. I spent the night crying on Pete's couch while Pete - bless his heart, tried to console but really lacks the feminine touch she aspires to. David called the next day apologizing, saying it was the heat of the moment, he was blindsided, etc etc. I told him I wanted to end it on good terms so as to not jeopardize any of us getting our proper lives back, and he said not to worry about it. And I said "what do you mean" and he says... get this...

He tells me that the people in our bodies were arrested months ago for selling meth out of our apartment. They're forbidden from leaving the state of Colorado for eighteen months. Apparently he hadn't decided what he wanted to do about it, so he didn't tell me. What, was he just going to let us transform into two complete random strangers and pretend he had no idea it was coming? Or...

Weeks passed. I grieved, I screamed, I cried, I sleep-walked my way through a few photo sessions including a very concerned Alexa, who could tell I was upset about something ("Bad breakup" probably didn't cover it, but was all I could say.) David disappeared. Even PEte didn't know for a few days where he was, until he turned up on Instagram, back in Florida, laughing it up with Pina Coladas in a way-too-revealing bikini.

So now I'm like, what, does he like Lena's life? I mean, there's a lot to like about it... wealth, respect, and yet the freedom to go be a jerkoff on holiday whenever he wants. Is he planning on stealing that life? I don't know - I'd like to think the man I was dating isn't capable of that but honestly I'm starting to feel like I never knew the real David.

Meanwhile, poor Pete is caught in the middle. When David found out I was staying with him, he threatened to fire him outright, but Pete pointed out that this was a bad idea - that he was the one keeping the company together and the only one protecting the incompetent "Lena" from a very frustrated board that has seen the company's direction plummeting over the last three quarters. Pete is very eager to hand April's life back to her, and Dave needs his right-hand woman.

I reached out to April and Zack to give them a head's up that David might be planning something really scummy, but gave my assurances that Pete and I had no such ideas. It was really hard to read their response, which was a cold acceptance, that as far as David-Lena goes, things are out of their hands.

So... there's the drama I've been dealing with lately, sorry for not posting more! Honestly, it's gotten me so worked up just to recap it, I need to lie down. I don't know what's going to happen to me. I wake up every day nauseous as to what's coming. I'm not built for this, I just want my life back!!

-Jenn, "Zack"

Jenn/Zack: Reaching a conclusion

So, I ended up meeting with Alexa. It was nice. We had a lot in common, even though we're not supposed to. On the one hand back when I was female I'd probably have a lot of preconceptions based on her appearance that would cause us not to get along - that she was shallow, mean... dumb? Which sucks because I try to be about uplifting women. And maybe my male mindset really wants to see the best in someone who looks like she does because on some level - deep down, where I would never do anything about it - I think she's attractive.

All we did was have coffee and chat. I said I wasn't sure if I was right for her job. She pressed on about it, saying she loved my portfolio. I couldn't tell her it wasn't my portfolio. I said maybe I had some colleagues I could send her to. That was about it.

I haven't told David yet because I know he doesn't want me to do anything like that, and I know he'll react very badly when I tell him.

David came home that night, late and tired and complaining about everything as always. There's an added dimension now where he gets home and starts to undress, expecting sex. Now that we're sexually active he expects me to just be ready willing and able 24/7, at his beck and call every night, because that's what guys want, so that's what he expects from me. And it's not necessarily wrong - I do have desires and using his (Lena's) body is certainly one way to keep my attention focussed on him - and not like I don't enjoy it but... I've started feeling very bad afterwards.

I lie there and think, is this it? What do I have to look forward to? Did we ever have real conversations? Because we haven't lately. Did we enjoy each other's company? Because I don't think I do now. Was it really just about sex, and I pushed hard to keep the intimacy in our relationship because I knew we were doomed without it? Did we stay together because I felt obligated after we changed? If we were us, would I have walked away already?

I would have wanted to, I just know it. And it's scary to think I wouldn't have gone through with it because I was getting to an age where you just want to settle down with whoever you're with already. I already had m doubts before we got into this mess, but there was no way I was going to abandon him while we looked like this. But it was hardly any kind of fix for our problems. Resuming sexual activity really just emphasizes how little of a relationship there ever was.

And now - now that it's hard and inconvenient, I might need to do it (end the relationship) more than ever. It's more important now that I've done something he told me not to by meeting with Alexa, and that whenever I tell him I know it's going to touch off a huge fight, I know it's either now, or wait until we get our bodies back, and by then I will probably talk myself out of it.

I need to break up with him. I care a lot about his feelings and what happens, but I realize now that's different from love. I have my doubts because it seems wrong to break up while we're in the middle of this whole thing and I feel like I'd be leaving him high and dry, but I should follow my heart on this one.

Woo. I'm shaking, having written all of that. It's a good thing he vowed never to read this. I needed to put it out there, somewhere I hope he won't see.

-Jenn

Jenn/Zack: Holiday in the Heat

It began with a DM (and I don't mean Daryl/Magda, haha...)

A few days after my last post, as David and I were preparing to take our Christmas Holiday to Lena's Beach House in Florida, I got messaged on Instagram by a stranger asking, "Are you Valerie's photographer friend?"

I raised an eyebrow. I haven't done too much photography lately, only to keep Zack's client base up. I was enjoying it, and with Zack's help on photoshop I was pretty decent at it, but I didn't have the energy to go out and find customers, or the financial need thanks to Lena's bank account. I was also pleasantly surprised to hear that Tyler/Valerie and I were "friends" but I really wasn't sure why she was shopping me around... but I was intrigued, so I answered, "Yes... who is this?"

"My name's Alexa, nice to meet you! (Val told me you might recognize the name hehe) I'm looking for a photog to partner with for my account."

Alexa -- as in Ryan's Alexa? As in the girl Tyler, like... cuckolded?? My better instinct was to stay the heck away, but my love for drama commanded me to pursue. It'd be like meeting a character from your favorite reality show. I told her I wasn't really available in December, but maybe... maybe we could meet up in the New Year. She said that would be fine.

After that, I started browsing her feed, and it made me almost wish I hadn't agreed to meet her, at least not without serious consideration. I started scrolling, and scrolling, and found myself mesmerized by this girl's... everything. Her face, her features, her body, her style. The part of me that's a girl was both jealous and impressed by her hair, her makeup, her clothes. But there's another part of me now... one that's more interested in the curve of her hips, that glint in her eyes in that close-up where she's looking over her shoulder... her coy smile, the seemingly perfect soft line of cleavage between her breasts. It was this simultaneous feeling of both wanting her life, and maybe... wanting her in my life.

I got this sinking feeling I was in trouble either way. I didn't know if I should be putting myself in a room with her. I mean, I know I'm strong, and committed, but why put myself in a situation where I'm going to be... like... lusting after a woman who isn't my boyfriend? (Boy, that's a hell of a sentence!) David is jealous enough, why give him a reason?

When David got home - seemingly tired and worn out from the office as always - I told him about it, I was very up front. Not about any attraction I may or may not have had to this girl, but about the job offer and how I had agreed to meet with her but was thinking of reconsidering. I showed him the Insta feed.

He raised an eyebrow. "Wow," he said flatly. "She's pretty hot, huh."

Like it was nothing. Like he couldn't recognize this, like, goddess on the screen. Maybe he's been desensitized by porn, or by being female.

Finally, after a bit more scrolling, he tosses the phone aside. "Yeah, you're not meeting this chick."

I raised an eyebrow - excuse me? Don't you trust me? Never mind the fact that she is also known to be in a serious relationship. We can handle ourselves. This could be a good project.

He says, what do you need a project for? Why can't you just do your own thing?

Suddenly, my resolve doubled. Why doesn't he just say it - he doesn't trust me with other women, or other men.

I said, who was he to tell me who I could or couldn't meet? And he said he was my boyfriend, that's who, and I said really because you haven't acted like it recently, and he says is that a crack about my manhood, and I say no it's a crack about your behavior - you don't act like we're in an kind of relationship.

He says, oh, me providing for you, giving you a place to live, buying all your meals, paying for everything, that's not enough? I say tell him it amounts to being a kept wo/man and it's boring and not emotionally fulfilling. He says if I'm bored I can leave anytime.

I almost did it. I was so angry - my summary really does not do justice to how I was feeling in that moment but I'm not interested in reliving it for the blog's sake, if that's okay.

For a variety of reasons, I didn't. Storming out isn't my style - I'm more a "stick to it and get it resolved" type, but that's very hard when emotions get inflamed. But for a few moments I was thinking, to hell with this, enjoy the rest of your life.

But we're stuck with each other. I can't leave him now, not like this, or else something really stupid might happen. have to watch over him. And yes, part of it is... I'm so embedded in his Lena-life I'm not sure I would be able to survive right now.

Not a great reason to stay in a relationship I guess but there you have it. I have faith that, when this is all sorted out, he'll be the person I love again. We got over the fight, although the core issue - my interest in meeting Alexa and pursuing a photography project - was unresolved. I had a sinking feeling I was going to let him have his way on that one, and I wasn't happy about it.

The next day we went to Florida. We had a few weeks to ourselves over the holidays. Our only obligation was Christmas Eve Dinner with Lena's niece and her fiance, which promised to be awkward, since what little family Lena has doesn't really know she's taken up with a 25-year-old. I asked if David wanted me to excuse myself for the night, and he said no - Lena's a grown woman, and nobody should judge her.

We had a good first few days frolicking in the sun. It was fun, but still very chaste. David wasn't comfortable showing too much skin, although I tried to convince him to get in the spirit of the vacation, while still dressing age-appropriately. We were walking along the beach and happened to pass a pair of women in bikinis. I didn't really look - seriously! But David let out a sight.

"What?" I asked, a note of irritation in my voice - I was prepared to be accused again, and rehash our fight.

Instead he surprised me, "Wish I looked like that."

I was puzzled a sec. "Like what. Her?"

I looked back at the woman - her bikini bottom riding up her well-toned butt. Then I looked at David in his modest, flowy sundress with the deep yet modest neckline.

"I mean, if I have to be a chick, why can't I... you know? With the perkiness and the curves and the... everything!"

In that moment, I saw how trapped he was. Men, and society in general, are conditioned not to see women above a certain age as having value... even ones who are wealthy as Lena Howard. Even if they have kept their looks as well as Lena Howard!

"You don't want her life," I said thoughtfully, "Yeah, she's hot, but she probably lives at the gym and counts every carb she breathes near. Doesn't drink, doesn't stay out late, constantly moisturizing. You should be happy."

"Well, wouldn't everything be easier for us if we looked like that?"

I raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I'd feel sexier, you'd find me sexier..."

"I find you sexy," I said matter of factly.

He huffed, "How could you find me sexy?! I've seen you look at other women, and I don't look like them."

"I... don't know! I don't know how it works. But it's the same as being attracted to men, I think - you just... feel the spark."

"Oh, and you feel the spark?"

"I do! If you'll let me," I smiled.

He rolled his eyes. "You think all this is sexy?" he held out his arm and indicated some loose flab.

"I don't care about that. Everyone's got flaws, and you inherited an overall great body. Lena Howard is a beautiful woman, and you have a beautiful soul."

He fell silent as he considered what I'd said.

I asked, "Do you find me sexy?"

With extreme hesitation, he said "Yyyyyyyyyess....."

"So we don't have a problem."

"If you really found me sexy, you'd want to have sex more."

I rolled my eyes. "You're thinking like a man, honey. I respect your space too much to push you into it."

"So, you really don't mind that we've only had sex once in these bodies?"

"I didn't say I didn't mind. I said I respect you." I wrapped my arm around him and kissed the top of his head.

Next was the niece's visit. I'm sure Julie means well but she wasn't even prepared to give me a chance. She had her eye on me from the start, looking for reasons to criticize me as a partner for Lena. I was on my very best behavior, making great conversation, but she was uninterested.

Before the meal was even done, Julie laid into the both of us, me for supposedly using her wealthy aunt for her money, and "Lena" for not putting her money to better use. I was too annoyed to speak, but David got up in her face, saying it was none of her business what two adults did with their time or money, or bodies for that matter. Julie left in a huff.

The evening proceeded tensely, but I began to feel very warmly toward David again after that. There was my man, defending my honor. But he was also the woman who kept me at arms length. Or so I thought.

After dinner, we were watching a movie in the screening room. We're cuddled up nicely, it's a bit like old times. David has been using some of Lena's body washes and other products and the smell is really driving me crazy. I'm fidgeting trying to ignore what's going on in my pants. He's very still.

"You know..." he finally says, pausing the movie, "I feel like we're under the microscope. People are starting to talk, in Lena's circles. It's like, gossip."

"Really," I sighed.

"Yeah. It's not just Julie. It's people on the board who've seen me Facetiming you. It's people in Lena's clubs. I guess the secret's out."

"Uh huh..."

"I mean, if we're already convicted... we might as well do the crime, right?"

"...Excuse me?"

"Wait here."

He dashed off, as nimbly as a nearly 50-year-old woman could. With purpose, moving like I haven't seen him do since being Lena.

"David?" I called out, when he'd been gone for a few minutes.

"Hold on..." he called back.

I got up to search, but he must have heard me lumbering because he called out "Don't move!"

Finally, he called out "Okay, come to the bedroom!"

I made my way slowly over. This had to be a trick, right? Two days ago we were back to barely-holding-hands. And now?

I went to the bedroom. No David. The light in the ensuite clicked on.

He appeared, bathed in soft light from behind. He was dressed in a sexy black bra and lace panties. I've never seen him voluntarily wear anything like that.

"I bet you've been waiting," he said, putting on an eerie impression of a sultry, seductive voice.

"I..., have..."

"I've been thinking about this a lot," he said. "You like this, don't you? You think I'm sexy?"

"Um... yes," my voice cracked nervously.

"This will make you happy? This is all you want, isn't it?"

"Um... only if you do."

He took my hands and placed one of them on his breast and one of them on his ass.

"We've wasted so much time, Jenn. Make me want it. Make me like it. F*** me hard."

"David I..."

"Now, Jenn!" he hissed, planting a deep kiss on my lips.

"Are you drunk?"

"Haven't had a drop," he said breathlessly.

That was true as far as I knew - which is unusual.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because our vacation's almost over and it will be back to the real world soon. And you deserve it."

"Okay," I said - still a little skeptical but starting to get "in the mood."

And then we did it. I climbed on top of him and he played his part to a "T", moaning and screaming, perhaps a little too vocally and graphically for my liking, but in the heat of the moment it really egged me on.

I mean, I could have done without him squealing "Oh my God I'm f**ing a guy!" But at lease he seemed to be enjoying it.

He must have liked it more this time, because it became a pattern. We found our rhythm and made love every night for the rest of vacation, and well into our return in January. He looks so good beneath me... and on top of me... and one time in front of me.

I haven't ended up meeting with Alexa yet, although it 's in the back of my mind. Things are just so good now that I don't want to rock the boat.

Which... is kind of stupid, when I say it like that.

Oh, man. I'm still in trouble.

-Jenn/Zack

Daryl/Magda: Mismatches

If you're going to get changed into a different person, and it looks like there's a good chance you'll stay that way, there's a certain logic in moving away from both your real hometown and where your new identity lived, and to someplace like New York City.  Many large cities would probably do the trick, I suppose, but New York is so big and is such a hub that I can do things that might get noticed in other cities without much question.  It may be something as small as sitting down at a lunch counter in Harlem and having some fried chicken without much more than a little side-eye, or nobody at the movie theater caring about a weird double feature.  They'll let you be.

We were initially kind of worried about that when J.T. and I started going out, especially since he was kind of famous at one point, but there were some pictures taken, a couple websites that tried to frame a cougar narrative, but, eventually, it sort of became no big deal.  Older woman/younger guy is unusual, but seeing we dig each other makes it something of a non-story.

And we do like each other.  For a while we thought it might just be the thrill of the new or unusual, but I've been here for a couple months, and it hasn't always been complete fun, we've become really comfortable together, and good.  He was kind of nervous about me moving in at first, but it works, and we both look forward to how our weird schedules intersect.

Unfortunately, his rehearsal schedule didn't line up well with Pete's anti-Halloween dinner, which was aggressively come-as-you-are because folks like us don't need another level of make-up, costuming, and play-acting.  He isn't really sure he belongs at that sort of thing anyway, having just been someone else for one cycle and then dropped back into his life like it hasn't happened until I showed up.  Not that everyone who came is in my boat - Annette came, although to be fair, she's 22 and basically spent all he college years as someone else, so most of her friends from that period are Inn people.

She was one of the first to get to the function room Pete had rented, enthusiastically helping decorate; I imagine they love her attitude at whichever publishing company is exploiting her as an unpaid intern.  She taped Pete on the shoulder and broke off to say hi and asking if I wanted a name tag, which was more complicated than usual - between the standard "Hello, My Name Is ____" and the "My Pronouns Are ___/___" that has apparently started gaining use,  she customized them to include "Also Known As ____".  Hers said "Annette", "Ravi & Benjamin", "she/her"; Pete's said "Pete", "a bunch", "he/him".  I opted for "Daryl", "Magda", "they/their". I half expected them to tell me to choose a side, but Annette said anybody being a jerk about how someone else identified was getting kicked out.

Pete gave a little chuckle as she went back to decorating.  "Never thought Millennials and their political correctness would make a bit of sense, but in this case..."

"Dude, you do know that I'm not actually this old, and she's, like, whatever we're calling the generation after that, right?"  Not wanting to get into that, I looked down and raised an eyebrow.  "Wearing heels to your 'come as you are' party, huh?"

"Am I?  Holy shit, I am!  I swear, April's feet have been deformed by long hours in the Executive Assistant uniform to the point where I walk around my house on tiptoe and boots with a couple extra inches feel normal.  But I guess it beats being short.  I'm not quite Tylerie tiny, but every inch counts."  I was kind of surprised he picked up my play on Tyler's names, but apparently it tickled him.

He asked how I was enjoying Magda's job, and I shrugged.  "It's not really what I want to do with the rest of my life, but it's something I can do for now.  I kind of like punching a clock rather than working long hours to make an impossible deadline, too.  At least for now.  How about you?"

He shrugged.  "Young, old, man, woman, black, white, asian, I'm apparently the glue that holds an office together.  Speaking of which..."  A matching couple was filling in their name tags, and Pete brought me over to introduce us.  "Daryl, this is Jenn and David; guys, this is Daryl. Or Magda.  'Magdaryl'. It's up in the air right now."

That immediately clicked with the man in the skinny jeans and blow-dried hair.  "You're the one dating J.T.!  I had such a crush on him when I was in junior high!"  She suddenly realized how she must look.  "Not the usual person to say that, huh?"

"You'd be surprised."  I turned to her date, wearing a much looser pair of jeans and t-shirt, hair gathered into a ponytail at the base of the head rather than higher-up.  "Don't be jealous; J.T. is very much taken."  I extended a hand and David grabbed it kind of tentatively, maybe not sure how to process the flurry of names Pete had thrown at him along with the camisole under my White Sox Jersey.  I want wearing makeup but did have hairpins in, so I was sending some mixed signals.

I thought he and I might have something to talk about, given our similar age and sex changes, but he didn't seem to like he wanted to; honestly, even though I as talking sports and action movies and the like while complaining about bras and heels, I think he saw me as too close to the worst way he could see things going for him.

Jenn wasn't really negative, at least; as much as she clearly either hadn't stated thinking like a guy or was relishing the chance not to, she complained less and lived vicariously more.  She had plenty of questions about where Tyler got his shoes and apparently listened to a lot of the same podcasts as Annette. 

We all mingled a bit, but never really got far from one another - Pete has a pretty decent contact list of Inn people, but even in New York, there weren't enough for the size of the space he rented, at least that could do this kind of Halloween party (or were in the mood for it).  I'd kind of hoped to make some contacts that might give me a chance to maybe find a new career, but that didn't really happening.  Eventually I ran back into Jenn, who had had a few.  "This is the weirdest party I've ever been to.  So many girls and it's a complete sausage fest!  Shouldn't it be, like 50/50?  Or 25/25/25/25, cause some folks stay the same, generally speaking?"

"Well, I figure those guys just shrug and deal with it, right?  They know what they're doing and don't have to reach out.  I don't know why there's not more girls who became guys here or on the blog and stuff, though."

"Oh, trust me, most of us are not going to complain about bosses suddenly listening and shorter bathroom lines and clothes that have actual useful sizes."  I turned around and saw a cheerful-looking guy with a somewhat unruly Afro but a big smile; his name tag said "Juliet", "Jonah", "he/him".

"Well, when you put it like that..."  Jenn probably would have expanded on it, but David came over and was clearly ready to be done for the night, so they left.

Juliet waved and said they probably had the right idea.  "I bet your legs are staying to run down like my brain is."  She wasn't wrong, so we headed out to grab a snack (another great thing about New York is bakeries open until 3am).

It turns out we are kind of opposite sides of the same coin, me a young black man who became a middle-aged white woman, her a white woman in her early fifties who changed to a young black guy by choice.  Apparently she and her husband visited the Inn a few years back and made it back to their old life okay, only to have him go off on a "business trip" this May that left someone else in his body to explain he was leaving her for someone else, as someone else - apparently they'd been carrying on this affair for years and found the perfect new lives to claim.  She despaired, and then when she found out through another Inn person she knew that Krystle was putting this boy's body for sale--

"Please tell me you don't refer to black men as 'boy' or just casually talk about them being for sale."

"What?  Oh God, no...  At least I don't think...  I didn't mean that!"

"It doesn't matter what you mean, it matters what people hear.  You've gotta be real careful - just because you may still think like a white woman and talk about white woman things, coming out of that mouth, it's gonna sound like you're making fun to some people."

"I guess.  Hardly seems right."

"Welcome to being black in America.  I miss a lot about it, but..."  I suddenly felt pretty bad about finishing that sentence; as much as things in my real life can be unfair, I kind of feel like escaping them by becoming white is a cheat, and don't really feel grateful for it.

"Hm.  Well, I guess that's the karmic price for getting a chance to start again in college.  Not that being black is a price!  Ugh, I'm not so terrible at this when I don't have to think about it.  Or am I?"

"You probably are, but don't worry too much.  I was a giant nerd who didn't fit in either, and I turned out okay enough for J.T."

"But did you have to deal with this?"  She pointed at the mop of hair on her head.  "I let it grow out because all the cool black people when I was growing up in the 70s did this, but it just won't behave!"

"When did you last have a trim?"

"I don't know, two or three weeks ago?"

"Yeah, you're gonna want to find a barber you like and go every week.  It doesn't take that long, and if you just sit and listen while you wait, you'll get a pretty good education on being a black man."

"Sounds like this education could be more expensive than the college one!"

"Well, just think of what you're not spending on makeup, bras, pantyhose..."

"I guess.  Well, I did decide I wanted to do things differently.  But fair warning, I'm going to call you a lot."

I said that was okay, but she hasn't yet.

By the time I got home, J.T. was on the couch, watching TV.  "How was Curse Club?"

I say down and put my feet on his lap for him to massage.  "Kind of fun.  Weird having everyone treat me like I'm one of the ones who knows what he's doing."

"She's doing, based on last night."

I took the name tag I'd removed and folded in half out of my purse.  "They're doing, based on this."

"I'm not sure I approve of you going to parties where they don't think of you as a woman.  Does that make me a bad Inn Person?"

"Nah, I like that you know who you are and want me to feel as sure, although I kind of like not being sure.  Makes us special."

"Well, I guess opposites attract."

I thought about joking about "Junah" (portmanteau nickname a work in progress) then, but things were heading in a fun direction, so I just said "I guess so" and leaned in for a kiss.

-Magdaryl

Jenn/Zack: "Little" Jenn

I guess I've been a little sheepish about sharing my experiences on this blog because I'm still waiting for... well, something. Something about this situation that I can get excited about. But it's been a few weeks and I feel like I'm learning.

I also feel like I'm becoming accustomed to being a layabout, a live-in housekeeper and a "kept man" - being that my boyfriend, who is living the jet-setting life of home decor mogul Lena Howard, pays for everything, and my "job," Zack's photography career, is really more of a glorified hobby for me.

I started going to the gym. I thought, whatever mysterious force caused that Inn to change my into Zack granted me a killer set of abs, so it would be a shame to lose them. I'm hardly a fitness freak in my regular life - I like low-impact, low-result workouts, I've dabbled in pilates and spin and every New Year I resolve to start running, but really there's not much incentive. Now, I have nothing but time, and a hot new body to flex.

Can I just tell you... it is amazing to be strong. I mean, Zack is not Mr. Muscles by any means but I am impressed with how much lifting I can do! I can just sit there pumping my guns until I get tired, watching that bicep go up and down. It's a bit of a turn on. Which brings me to my next point, of course...

I  have been working on developing a relationship with certain new body part of mine. I know, it's been months, and it's not like this is new-new since I didn't post for weeks, but it did take a little bit of time. When you wake up to this strange equipment situated between your legs, and it's not what you're used to or what you want... and it isn't performing the way you most often experience it... it's strange and off-putting. Gah, I'm getting flustered just trying to talk about it.

I'm a healthy straight girl. I have a love for this organ - in its natural habitat. Normally I only know what a penis was like in a sexual context. I know enough about shrinkage and everything, but in its flaccid form I find the whole thing so goofy that I'd rather not look or think about it. And when I first saw mine, er, Zack's, it was definitely in a relaxed state. And I was certainly not in a position to change that.

Then time goes by. You get comfortable. You've used it for its other purpose enough that putting your hands on it doesn't seem so weird anymore, but as much as you want to regain that sexual attachment it's just... equipment. I worked hard to mentally get over that hurdle and think how cool it should be that I now have access to something I have been curious about since I was old enough to have sex... or old enough to pretend I knew what sex was like! But the thrilling part didn't come because all the stresses and frustrations of our lives were swirling around me. Al my anxieties about my relationship and caring for my boyfriend in the body of this older woman... made me think about him first and me not at all. There were times I would actually forget I wasn't a woman anymore, if you can believe it.

The past six weeks have been sexually frustrating because neither of us had wanted to have sex. David was adamant that he was not interested in letting me explore that region of his new body, and I certainly didn't push the issue because as well-preserved and beautiful in a  "grand dame" kind of way as Lena is, I didn't feel attraction.

Until I did.

We were sitting on the couch - apart, to give him the space he desires now - really not doing anything, bingeing a really bad MTV show I had TiVo'd, when suddenly I became hyper-aware of the person next to me. Something clicked into place that made me think, this is not just an older woman, this is a beautiful woman, and she has the mind and soul of the man I love. When she would get up to get a beer, I would get a peek at her body - her hips, her bum, and think... wow. There's really something going on there.

And then "Little Jenn" woke up.

It was the craziest feeling, good and bad all at once. No wonder guys are so obsessed with their boners, it's impossible to think of anything else when you have one! I tried to adjust myself in my seat, I hoped to God that he wouldn't notice the bulge protruding from my pants, and of course he didn't.

When I could find a moment I excused myself to the restroom to get a look.

It looked huge. Huge and stiff, just like I had hoped. Almost instinctively, I wrapped my hand around it and found it a perfect fit - again, no wonder guys are always doing this, their bodies are designed for it!

Just the sight of it, the feel of it in my hand, the feel of my hand on it, I was so excited I could hardly contain myself. It was like a missing piece of me had returned - different from before but most welcome. It was exactly the fantasy of being the opposite sex that you would think, that I wasn't experiencing and didn't think I really would!

And to my dismay... it didn't take very long. I tried to make it last but just as I was getting off and running... I had a mess on my hands.

I felt drained, I felt ashamed... I felt like... the world must surely know what I had done and how wrong it was, and that David would be so disappointed (for some reason, even though it's obvious he doesn't care.) The unabashed, sexy thoughts I had had just moments earlier turned sour in my head and left me. Sex was the last thing I wanted to think about, as my little unit shrunk back up. It felt good, for the moment, and really great for a split second, and then just like that it was over. And in that moment, I really felt like I understood men a million times better than I ever thought I would. Why they are the way they are, how they can treat women the way they do. Just for a moment though, and that doesn't excuse it for them.

After feeling sour at the end of the experience, I thought that was it - I had tried it once, and liked it a bit and felt down afterwards so I probably wasn't going to want more of it. But lo and behold, the next day, the feeling came back. My mind started wandering and ideating all these scenarios, pushing this confusing but enticing narrative of myself as a sexy, sexual male and any person I could imagine as a potential partner (I'm trying to steer it at David, but knowing how unreceptive he is to this whole thing makes even the idea of fantasizing about him a little dicey somehow.... which is a whole other issue.) It's all this weird hormonal rush, on a schedule that's all new to me.


Up until all this, I was feeling the lack of intimacy, and the lack of desire to be intimate, but also understanding where I was at and where my partner was at. I accepted the new status quo that, sure maybe we won't be a couple that is intimate, at least for a while. But now I've moved into this new phase and I'm really hoping David can join me in this place and maybe we can explore that together. I love him as a person, as difficult as he can be and as hard as it has been to weather all this. And I want to show that love, and support him, and maybe - if he wants - reawaken this part of him, of "us."


Until then... I guess I'm, just on my own.