James/Keisha: Itching to leave

As much as I'm happy for Cal, scratching that itch, I am just about ready to get back to normal.

I was talking about it over coffee with Trish/Robbie. We've gotten into the habit of having these brother/sister chats. I'm kind of the centerpiece of the group, since I live with and am best friends with Derek, work with Roy, and am technically siblings with Trish. I don't talk to Cal much anymore, but Trish does, so I hear about him that way. I mean her. Shit, funny after all these months I still do that. Ah well I'll leave it there.

So yeah, Trish had some thoughts about Cal dating that guy, and he was just going on and on (oh I did it right that time!) about how rude it was to make that kind of move in someone else's body, especially so close to the end, and yadda yadda... and so finally I just said "You're just mad because you regret shooting her down."

He denies it, but I think there's something to it. I think he feels guilty seeing as how Cal is such a nice chick - and let's face it, a cutie - and Trish, usually pretty accustomed to getting attention, is sitting around deliberately cockblocking himself.

"You could've just done it, just to do it, and now you lost your opportunity. You're officially a dude."

"That's so simplistic," he snapped back, "If it was gonna be anyone... I mean, it's just not safe to date anyone out side the group."

"You said it wasn't a good idea to date anyone inside the group, either."

"It's not, but it's better. If I'd known... she was just gonna go ahead and do it anyway..."

"Wow, you're a hypocrite," I laughed.

"I totally stand by my decision," Trish said, "It's just that that led to Cal making a worse one. He's a sweet guy, girl, whatever... he isn't going to be able to handle this."

"And you, what, would have let him down easy when you got back to your regular body?"

"At least with me everyone involved would know the score."

"Hey," I said, "If you just wanna get laid, Derek told me he'd give you a try."

"Ew," he said, "Derek said that about me?"

"Like you haven't thought it? Look at those tits. Girl's a goddess. A screamer, too. A real moaner."

Trish looked embarrassed, "You can hear her through the walls?"

"I don't have to, I'm usually in there with her."

He nearly spat his coffee out, "Don't look so embarrassed, we're two dudes trapped in the body of hot chicks with nothing else to do. Didn't think we'd get around to it out sooner or later?"

"I thought you said you liked guys in Keisha's body," he said.

"You're such a loser sometimes," I laughed, "You never heard of experimenting?"

"Well now I really don't want to go out with Derek. OR do anything else. Or even look at her."

"Hey, I offered," I said. "Not my fault you missed out on Cal."

"I didn't miss out on anything," Trish said, "She said she doesn't even like it that much."

"With David," I said, "But I bet you have some info he doesn't."

"Oh, I could rock Cal's world. Or Derek's. Or anybody's."

"How about mine?"

"James!" he said in shock, "You're my sister, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot," I said, laughing, "Oh my God, could you imagine? That shit would be hilarious. Like some Game of Thrones shit, right? Fuckin' right."

Keisha/James: Christmas and a bunch of other stuff

So I guess the last time I posted was right before my date with AJ.

I dunno what happened. I mean, I know what went on... we went out for drinks, it was kinda dumb, and at the end of the night he got a kiss and then I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to see him again. I just don't know what happened. I mean, I've seen this guy's penis, thanks to his very enthusiastic texting. And the part of me that's a chick could totally dseal with it, so I was ready. My idea going in was that I was gonna let this guy have it if he wanted it, and then I dunno... he didn't make much of a move and I was really okay with that.

It's weird. When I see guys now, I get this feeling... and it's not totally like when I would see hot girls when I was a guy. It's just this, like... warmth, and I don't mean downstairs, but inside. And then they start talking, and they're boring and dumb, and I'm just like "Dude, just be cool enough so that I can bring myself to nude up with you." But I think he blew it. It's hard to even say when. He just didn't do it for me.

So I ask myself, why do I bother? Because I'm bored of not being out there. That was how I lived, and it's how I still want to live. And I don't see myself getting into the girl-on-girl scene, so I tried to get okay with this real quick. I came this close and then something just totally deflated me. It's like... wanting to have sex with someone, and not wanting to have sex with them at the same time.

So I'm still on the lookout. Meanwhile, Derek and I are handling this apartment-switch thing, because they aren't seeing eye to eye over there after the robbery and Derek and I get along better anyway. Angie can have fun with my roommate, neat-freak Lindsay and her stupid boyfriend. She blew it.

She thinks it was some kinda conspiracy... maybe, but we can't figure it out. We figure it was probably the stolen keys, because there was no broken window or forced entry or anything, but we can't really get our heads around who is behind this or why. And I don't care. I'm just gonna watch my back from now on.

Then there was Christmas, which was a huge crazy thing. I avoided helping Keisha's mom cook anything, mainly babysitting and talking to some of the distant relatives. I mainly got gift cards for clothing stores because I want to choose more of my own clothes, because Keisha's wardrobe is frumpy as hell. I drank a whole bunch, which became a problem when I was helping Keisha's grandma get into the car, and we slipped on some ice... and I broke her fall. And that basically broke my wrist. Ow, fuck.

Trish/Robbie was there, and he offered to help, but I guess I thought hey, it's a one-man job, I can do it. I should've asked. But fuck it. I don't like feeling so weak. It was one moment.

All that's left now is to make some plans for new years. I was thinking of just doing a Lowell Crew thing, but things the way they are it could be awkward to get Derek and Cal together, plus I still kinda want to meet people. Maybe Sophie can hook me up.

Cal/Angie: Not what I needed a week before Christmas!!!

Thursday night both me and Derek were working late shifts. This isn't that unusual, in fact I kind of prefer it because by the time we both get home we're both too tired to snipe at each other and we just kinda peacefully coexist. That's good because I kind of needed my "home" such as it is to be a sanctuary now that I just don't feel like I gel with the people I'm working with and it's becoming more and more frustrating. I thought working with a bunch of easygoing hippie types would be no problems, but it turns out they can tell when you're not really one of them and... I dunno they judge me. Or I feel like they do.

So Thursday night, I was ready to come home and just flop down when I walk through the door and... the place has been ransacked. Like, okay, Derek and I aren't the two neatest guys-slash-chicks in the world, but shit was everywhere and I realized soon that someone had broken in and gone through our stuff. Dumped out drawers, stolen things out of our rooms... I had my computer with me at work, luckily, but Derek left Mona's laptop out in the open so that's gone. I wasn't even able to totally figure out what all they got, because I don't know everything in the apartment. A lot of jewelry, clothes, appliances, the TV, DVD player, DVDs... the gifts I was going to give my friends and family... all sorts of random items from around the apartment that I had no real understanding of.

As soon as I realized what happened I just stomped through the apartment screaming. It was the worst I've felt since waking up this way. Maybe even worse... that was a shock but it didn't all come to me at once. This was just immediate anxiety and fear and panic. I screamed myself hoarse and the neighbors came to see what happened and I was hysterical with tears when I explained that we got robbed... I couldn't even call the cops, I couldn't pull myself together. When the cops showed up they seemed mad at me for not being able to explain myself. Or maybe that was just my interpretation.

I was too embarrassed to call Angie and tell her. When Derek got home she said she'd figure out a way to explain it, but she was pissed at me.

She reminded me that I left our apartment keys in Maine. Even though they got sent back quickly, that was plenty of time of them to be copied.

Which means... one of the people in our bodies is a thief?

Like... how could they even get all the way to Vancouver from Boston, find the time when neither of us was home, get into our apartment and out with all that stuff?

Who are these people?

I've had the locks changed, but I still don't feel safe here. I can't exactly move, but James and I have talked about switching apartments at least for a little while. She hates her roommate and gets along better with Derek (who, again, fucking hates me now) so maybe it's for the best.

Here's the most upsetting part... they took my guy clothes.

I kept a few articles of clothing from my Cal wardrobe. It doesn't fit great, but girls wear their old boyfriends' clothes all the time, right? A pair of boxers, some shorts, a t-shirt. I slept in it sometimes, or wear it on laundry day. It made me feel connected to who I really am... and they fucking took them. Out of the laundry hamper.

I ask again... who are these people?

I'm so fucking scared right now.

James / Keisha: Alone with myself

I'm in my own personal hell right now. Not because I'm in a girl's body, mind you... I'm pretty OK with that a lot of the time. But nights like these I'm going outta my fuckin mind.

Start with the fact that I'm on my period. I'm not saying it hurts to move, but I am definitely not in a mood to do anything. So I decided I'd spend the night at home, in my sweats, with a movie. Maybe Die Hard or Taken or something. Then I find out that my dumbass roommate and her boyfriend are also spending the night in, which means they've taken the living room.

It's not like I'm stuck at home, but Derek, who is usually my lady-bro in these situations, works nights at the coffee shop. Cal is is a nice kid, but we don't always get along. Grant, or should I say "Sophie" (whoopdeedoo, she's the first one of us to start going by her new name permanently,) is MIA as usual. Roy is off seeing family for the Canadian holiday, plus we see enough of each other at work. That leaves Trish, who I think hates me.

But honestly, I don't feel like seeing anyone right now, not in the doubled-over-in-pain state I'm in... except that all these hormones are making me lonely as hell so that I'm practically crying for no good reason... and here's a wonderful fact you might like to know... I'm horny. Like, super horny!

I can't explain it, and I wish it weren't the case, but I can totally tell that Keisha's body is pushing me to go get laid. It's a period thing, I've read up on it. It's totally scientific. Some women just get super DTF on their periods.

Now, I'm doing an okay job taking care of myself... seriously, at this point, it's basically all I do all day, but I don't think I'm really getting the job done. It's like feeling like you have to sneeze, but the sneeze never comes. No matter how hard I rub, the genie never comes out, so I get tired and quit.

Right now, I am not open to the idea of involving an object, or another person. Nothing goes in there that isn't already part of me, or a tampon.

But I'm getting really confused. Like, I'm as straight as they get, as a dude. I love pussy, and the fact that I've been paying so much attention to my own should attest to that. But everything's all flip-flopped around in my head right now, where I could almost, almost see myself caving in and giving a dude a throw. But I don't want any guys seeing me naked or touching me. The idea makes me cringe.

It's just that... I don't respond much to girls, either, anymore. Like, I'll see a hot chick in the store and for a second I'll check out her cleavage, and then I'll think "God, what an attention whore." Like.. no shit, I'm glad to give her attention, or at least normally I would be.  But suddenly I'll look at girls that I would have hit on in my real body, and I'll just think, "I don't approve of you." And I hate that.

So that's how I'm in hell. I want all the sex, but I don't want any of it. I just want to want it the way I'm used to it, but my body has other ideas. Bad, bad ideas.

Cal / Angie: Girly

I never used to think much about what I put on my body. As long as it fit okay, I didn't care much about color or fabric or anything. All I had to do was pull on a pair of boxers in the morning, some jeans or shorts, a t-shirt and some deodorant and that was that. I had one pair of shoes, and I wore socks with em.

Now... oh boy.

At the risk of sounding like a slob, I wore the same pair of underwear for weeks on end as a guy, and now that's just not possible. A couple of days maybe but even then I become so aware of it that I feel like everyone can basically read my panties. So I've gotten very familiar with the laundromat on the corner. In fact, until she got a job, Derek was doing the laundry, and to my surprise, was very good at it, in that I never heard her complain and I'm constantly wondering if I'm doing it right, stressing out (I've ruined a couple of perfectly good bras, and am currently wondering if I should track down exact replacements as a courtesy to Angie.)

So every day begins with the selection of a fresh pair. Sometimes, to save time in the morning, I jump ahead by changing the night before, but if I think I might be on my period this is a waste, so I don't normally bother. Panties. I've written the word a few times in this post already and it still gives me a chill, let alone trying to say it out loud. It sounds so girly and cutesy... which is what they are. I was a plain white or black underwear kind of guy, since it's not like anybody was seeing them except me. They gave me room to let my "guys" breathe but not feel like they were flopping around. Now it's like... all a "piece" down there, packed in tight.

Tight is the word. Women come in all sorts of shapes - mine happens to be very, very slender, so I guess their clothes are designed to conform. I remember my first impression, digging through this girl's underthings, besides feeling like a totally perverted invasion of privacy, was that how could anybody risk cutting off circulation like that? I haven't worn briefs since I hit the fifth grade. But it all works differently for girls. There are a couple of pairs of "girl boxers" in the selection, but I find the breezyness... unsettling. Like I'm more aware that there's nothing down there when the area isn't clamped tightly. It doesn't mean I have to give myself a wedgie, but it means that the whole real estate is different in ways I wouldn't have guessed.

So as to the rest of the selection... there's a lot. Maybe it's average for a girl but it seems excessive to me. Even the "granny panties" seem slinky in their way, barely coming up to my belly button and firmly wrapping around my butt. My favorite ones aren't lacey, silky, satin, or shear, just regular cotton, but they are still petite, because I guess that means they're out of sight/out of mind and can go with everything. Sometimes I have worn those "date night" ones under my regular clothes, because 1) they're there, and 2) I'm probably not going to have a "date night" to wear them to anyway, so they might as well be for me.

Angie does not own any of those complicated lingerie things. Corsets and nylons. I don't know if I would try them on.

Not every pair of panties has a corresponding bra, and vice versa. That's weird to me. I guess stores have panties sales and you just buy them like you would socks, and wear them as you like. My boobs are modest enough that if I wear a couple of layers - two tops and a cardigan I don't intend on taking off - I can go without a bra. But I do find the firmness reassuring. If they're bobbing around, even if I don't think anyone can tell, I still feel exposed. Besides, the more fabric between the world and my nipples, the better.

The chilly fall weather, and rain to boot, has been a blessing on the fashionable front. In that there is a lot of layering to do, so I can wear top over top over top and nobody will think that's weird. And jeans, God yes, jeans. So what if they're low-rise and skin-tight, they're jeans. And I look good in them. I bought more for myself, when I realized that a lot of Angie's disposable income was mine to do as I please. I'm trying to be reasonable.

I haven't fully embraced girlyness... I still wear skater shoes most of the time, but sometimes I opt for slip-ons/moccasins/hippie shoes. I have a few times painted my nails and worn lip gloss, but I won't try eye makeup or too much face stuff. I have toyed with the idea of skin cream, because I like the idea of having soft skin in this body, and it makes me smell nice (in the sense of "I like when girls smell this way, so maybe I should.") The best thing about working in this granola environment is that nobody says anything if I don't wash my hair. So that's good. I'm still one of the least-girly of those of us who got turned this way in Maine.

I'm starting to feel fascinated by this body. How long I can stand in place before I get sore. How much sleep I need (6.5 hours minimum, 10 hours maximum[!]) how long it takes my leg and underarm hair to grow before I need to shave it again... you'd think the hippie environment would support this, but for my own comfort I came into this body with clean-shaven parts and I intend to keep them as best I can. With one exception... I had one really disastrous experience trying to clip my "bikini area" that resulted in the other of all skin irritations. So I'm going to let that be, unless I want to pay some stranger to do it for me (shudder.)

So in the last few weeks I've kind of done a 180 on this... from being afraid to think about it to being totally engrossed. I should probably hit "submit" on this post before I realize how self-conscious I am about it all.

It's like puberty though. First you're scared of it, feeling gross and grimy, and then suddenly you want to know everything you can. I remember staring at myself in the mirror trying to figure out when I'd grow facial hair or if I'd grow pecs. Instead, I got boobs.

And I'm not saying I like it, but... there's a neat feeling, looking yourself in the mirror when you start to like what you see. I don't love being a girl, but after sitting with the situation a while, I no longer think this is the worst thing ever.

Famous last words, I guess.

Cal / Angie: Bored and angry

I need some hobbies.

Since we've gotten here, I've just been so "in the moment." I'm working, or I'm cleaning the apartment or I'm fighting with Derek, or I'm, like, asleep. Sometimes I went for walks around the city, which was nice, but I'm getting bored of that. Today, I'm home from work, and Derek is out at his job, so I've got the apartment to myself. All I've done was clean a little, do some laundry, and walk around the place. I tried watching TV, but there's nothing on. I tried going on the internet and reading articles, but nothing holds my attention.

Suddenly I'm starting to realize what James and Roy and all them are talking about when they say we've changed.

I used to be more interested in things. I used to live for the next issue of Spider-Man or the X-Men. Now it all feels stupid. Right now, Spidey isn't even Spidey... Doc Ock has taken over his body. And you know what? I know what that's like, and if I can just say, the way they're writing it is very unrealistic. You don't just become someone else, roll up your sleeves and get on with it. It sucks. But I guess Doc Ock got to be a cool superhero guy, and I'm just a girl. Our experiences are different. He also chose it.

I was talking to James last week, about a lot of different stuff. How he seems to enjoy parts of this, the dressing up, the girly act. He pointed out that Tori, who's been on this blog a lot longer than we have, said being a girl was like having a superpower. Well it's not something I want to deal with. A lot of the girls on this site have called it a curse and that's exactly what it is. It's ruined my life. I want to be me again.

James laughed at me. He said I was miserable when I was a guy. Kept to myself, never went out, never got laid. That's not true. I had a girlfriend a year ago. We did it twice, and then she broke up with me. I wasn't good at being a boyfriend, and now I'm not good at being a girl. James thinks I could enjoy it if I try to. I shouldn't have to try, and I don't want to enjoy it. I just want it to be over.

I looked up where there's a comic shop in Van City (that's what they call this place.) I stood outside and tried to build up my courage, but I know how they treat girls in those places. I know the kind of guys that are in there. I was that kind of guy and I don't want to be gawked at just for having tits. I can't play video games either, although that's partly because we don't have an XBox here. Maybe GTA V would ease my mind, but something tells me I wouldn't enjoy it either.

Shit, shit, shit, I just went down to check on my laundry. How come I didn't know you couldn't put bras in the dryer??? FUCK! Because I'm NOT a girl! Even after three months of this crap. Ugh.

I'm gonna spend the rest of the day looking up recipes. Maybe I'll start learning to cook more. I've been on my own for a few months with only Derek to help out, so I'm sick of making the same pasta dishes over and over. I'll Google some vegetarian recipes, maybe try to start weaning this body onto meat, put on some weight. Hopefully, by the end of the day one of my friends will answer my text and decide to come hang out. Looking at this screen is giving me a headache. I'm PMSing.

#tmi

Trish / Robbie: Beach day

Our lives are utterly insane. A few months ago we were just normal teenagers. Most of us were going to college in the fall. Now it's September and I have this anxiety in my chest because I feel like I should be going to school. All that preparation I was expecting to do, registering for classes, buying textbooks, moving out of my parents house I do not have to do. I don't have to do anything, except find a new job.

Robbie's job painting houses officially ended last week. It was bittersweet. I was okay at the work but I didn't love it. I didn't find it stimulating or anything. Some of the crew were the exact sorts of obnoxious jerks that used to hit on me regularly at parties, except now they were trying to drag me to parties to hit on girls.

I did go out a few times with them, against my better judgment, sitting quietly at the bar while they struck out time and again at the club. I'll admit, it would've been nice to get "into" the spirit of things and join the dancefloor, but I feel so gangly and awkward as a man. I'm not sure how men are supposed to dance, even though I've never believe them when they told me "guys don't dance." I've seen them do it. I just don't like how they do.

The girls are another thing. It's amazing to watch these girls just cut loose. I wish I could be like that, or if I could have when I was a girl. Right now, I've decided, I'm nothing.

Which is to say, please don't read too deeply into it when I say the one member of the crew I'll miss is the only girl I worked with, Lauren. She is blonde and short and quite cute, and she probably has a better sense of humor than I do, to be able to put up with the guys ogling her.

She asked me, on our last day working together, what I was planning on doing for the fall. I said I had no plans. I'm not going back to school. I don't have a new job lined up yet. I can scrape by for a little bit on savings.

She said it would be a shame if we never saw each other again, and said to keep in touch if I ever wanted to hang out at her University campus. (It's weird the way Canadians say "University" the way we say "College." They say "College" when they talk about community college.) I thought it might be nice to have a female friend who isn't secretly a boy.

Speaking of the boy-girls, we had one little meetup to celebrate the end of summer. Vancouver has a few really great beaches and I managed to get them all to come along, basically daring them to wear swimsuits. It took a lot of convincing.

James was the easiest to convince, of course. Out of the three, he is the least skittish about "flaunting" it. Which I'm a bit uncomfortable with, because with Keisha being "my" sister, I kind of feel that level of brotherly familiarity with her.

Cal and Derek came too, wearing their swimsuits under shorts and tees in case they felt too embarrassed. However, I think being in a crowd of hot (and not) girls and guys in swimwear gave them a bit of confidence. Cal wore a red bikini that fell loosely over his slim little body. Derek wore a black one-piece, which seemed modest, but actually highlighted his curves. Compared to those other two, he's a goddess. Now, it's obvious that he's let Mona's body "go" a little bit through inactivity and overeating, but the girl is still hot.

However, the real surprise was Grant, who none of us has had much contact with since we got here. He's been kind of a recluse and we were all starting to worry (although when texted, he does reply quickly.) Grant's "host" body, Sophie, is a bit of a bombshell in her own way... short, but curvacious in just the right way (big hips and butt) and quite bosomy. He was spilling out of his strapless bikini top like it was no big deal.


For my part, I wore baggy shorts - guys' swimwear is so boring and functional, like everything about them.

This weekend was the most fun I've had with these guys. They let their guards down just a little bit. I kept my eye on them to see which beachgoers turned their heads, and while they definitely paid attention to the other girls, I saw some glances cast at guys, too... quickly and embarrassedly. Okay, I don't want to make them feel too awkward about it.

But really, is it such a crime? If what Roy has said is true, that's basically how these bodies are wired. It's just physical. It's just attraction. It's scary to let your body do the driving when it's taking you in an unfamiliar direction, but if that's what's going to happen, can we fight it? Are we just making ourselves miserable by not admitting that if, for example, if Robbie liked girls, then I might too now? The evidence is... pretty convincing.

But why does it have to be about who I like? It's not like I plan on doing anything, and I don't think the others are either. The only one I'm having "fun" with is myself, and I guarantee you three out of those four boys have done the same.

Well, the equivalent.

Cal / Angie: Enough is enough

I don't know how much longer I can live like this.

Not necessarily "as a girl," although a look at the calendar shows that I'm going to have to brace myself in the next couple days, but as this way in particular. See, I don't know what kind of arrangement Mona and Angie had before Derek and I became them, but Mona hardly has a cent to her name and that means that the entire rent bill comes out of my measly paycheck. Groceries too. I'm basically feeding and housing this girl who does nothing but sit on the couch and watch reality TV and cartoons while I'm out there trying to pick up extra shifts at a not-very-busy holistic store.

I was going over my/Angie's bank account online and let out a grunt of frustration. Derek's response to this was "Don't do that, you're not sexy when you make that noise."

"I'm not trying to be sexy," I said, "I'm trying to scrape together enough money to keep us afloat. You need to find a job."

"Don't tell me what to do," he snapped back.

"I'm not telling you what to do, I'm telling you what we need. We can't survive like this. We're not at home with our parents paying for every little thing. I work my ass off for 45 hours a week and we can barely make rent. You do nothing, I'm sick of it!"

"Well it's not easy, there's no jobs," he whined. I called bullshit on that. We went back and forth for a while, I said he had to basically take the next thing that came up.

"God what are you, on your period already?"

My face got hot, my heart started pounding. I just couldn't take it anymore. The last thing I needed was him to start condescending and getting all sexist on me when he's on the same boat as I am AND making it worse for us by not working.

"Get up," I said walking over to him.

He did. He stood straight up and puffed his ample chest out. As we currently stand, I am about 5'4 and he's closer to 5'11 so he basically towers over me. My eye level is basically his chest.

"See something you like?" he quipped.

I balled my hand up into a fist, I clenched my teeth with rage, and I took a swing.

I missed, fell over and busted my lip on the coffee table. He laughed his ass off and I started to cry uncontrollably. I felt like shit.

"It's not fair," I whimpered, "I'm the one who has to do all the work and you expect to just sit on your ass, for what, a year? Are you mental? That's not how it works, Derek."

"I'm sorry," he cackled, "I just can't take you seriously! It's like fighting my little sister!"

"Don't call me that!" I screeched, "It's not funny! We're fucked! WE. ARE. FUCKED."

I took a breath and then added "And I'm not on my period... but I guess I'm PMS-ing pretty hard. I'm really stressed out right now and I don't know what do to."

"All right," he said, calming himself down, "Don't cry. Please. I'm sorry." He sat next to me. "I'm not used to this, I didn't think... I guess I thought it was okay. I'll find something."

Then he kissed me on my head like I was his fucking pet, and sat back down on the couch. He's got a job interview tomorrow, but somehow I still feel like the loser in all this.

Cal / Angie: Day in day out

It's already become freakishly normal. I crawl out of bed at 7:30 in the morning, stretch, and slink to the washroom. I sit on the toilet. I brush my teeth. I undress from the tank top and shorts I use as pjs. I run a brush through my hair because I've learned that if I don't, it gets all tangled in the shower and then it's impossible to un-knot. I'm thinking abut cutting it... the way I see it, even if I just get it cut once, it will mostly grow out by the time I give this body back. Assuming I get the chance to. It's only August. It feels like an eternity will pass between now and next spring... and who knows what might happen by then.

That's usually what I'm thinking of, every single morning, see. How whether I like it or not, I'm stuck for now, and if I don't make peace with it soon, it's really going to kill if I can't get back where I belong. I breathe a deep sigh then step into the shower, fussing with the knobs to get the heat just where I want it.

I just stand in there for a while, letting the water fall over me. I used to clamp my eyes shut but there's no point. I already know every inch of skin on this girl, you know? Every hair and mole. The one thing that still kind of excites me is when I soap up, because hey, even if I'm the naked girl, it's still a naked soapy girl. I feel the weight of my dripping wet breasts in my hands and lather them in a circular motion. I'd be lying if I said I didn't at least like that. I get my own private show every morning if I like it or not. And if I'm not in the mood, I just put it out of my mind.

Horrifying, then exciting, then normal, and then sometimes exciting again.

After I turn the water off, I take a moment to try to wring out my hair. If I'm in a hurry, which I usually am, I give it at least a blast with the dryer and wrap it in a towel. Then I slip into a nice warm fuzzy bathrobe and tiptoe back to my room.

I've already talked a bit about what it's like to get dressed, to choose from my options when it comes to clothes. I prefer to cover as much as possible, but Angie seems to have favoured loose, skin-baring clothes. I try to make it so that at least my bra is covered. I think it's weird that so many girls are just cool letting guys see their brastraps. Like, to me, that counts as underwear. But Angie doesn't own a lot of t-shirts and hoodies, which is what I mostly wore as a guy, so I just choose something that looks okay and layer a cardigan over it, despite the heat. (Actually, Vancouver's climate is quite breezy.)

Once I'm sure I've got everything fitted properly and in place, I take one last moment to breathe. That's because I know Derek's out there. He's such a couch potato it's almost revolting. I don't know what he does all day, besides watch TV and maybe play with himself. Must be nice, but we're going to have a PROBLEM soon.

He's just ALWAYS there. Usually he falls asleep on the couch at night, so when I get up it wakes him up. And when I get home in the evening, he's still there. I'm trying to get him to clean the place, do dishes, maybe even cook and do laundry, but I think he just thinks of this as a vacation and he doesn't have to do anything. I hate that kind of self-important attitude. I just feel so intimidated by him, and maybe it's because of the way he looks. For one, he's way taller than me, so anytime I get upset he just stands up and stares me down and basically dares me to challenge him. I'm not going to attack someone who's 6 inches taller than me and a girl - even if I'm technically one too.

I think maybe I'm just conditioned to be forgiving to attractive women, which Derek sadly is, and he's aware of it.

I've heard otherwise, but I'm not willing to accept the idea that I might be one too. Sometimes when Derek's feeling nice, he'll call me "Bright Eyes" in a really sweet tone on voice. The other day I was running around picking up garbage and he said "Hey, you know your butt really jiggles when you walk around like that."

I froze and turned to him. "Don't tell me that."

"Maybe it's just because you're so clenched tight. Get the stick out of there."

And I was just burning with anger because if he thinks that, then guys I work with, or see in the store, probably noticed and think even worse things. Every time I think I'm getting comfortable and acting like myself, I notice some guy give me the "look" and it sends a chill up my spine. Like, no thank you, I'm not interested. Gluh. Can't I just be? Or maybe it's my fault, and I need to learn to take a compliment about this body.

I just need a break, a little privacy and space. I'm starting to get edgy here with this routine.

Cal / Angie: Dressing the part

One thing I like about the girl I became is that Angie was kind of a hippie girl, so when it comes to appearances I don't get the sense that I'm acating out of character for her if I don't put in much effort. I go to work in the morning with tangled, messy hair (it's long and reddish brown) and no make-up, and nobody looks at me like I'm out of place (although sometimes I can see flashes of sneers on my way to work, it's not like I care.)

That said, she still did leave some girly things about herself, open for discussion: she does own several things of homemade make-up from all natural ingredients (face creams, lip balms, that kind of thing.) When I woke up as her, her legs and armpits were shaved, and I haven't tended to that. I wonder if maybe I should. It's still summer, and while Vancouver is a pretty breezy place, so I can get away with covering up, she owns a number of tank tops and shorts that I usually wear, so I would feel weird wearing them and revealing the ever-darkening growth under my arms.

That said, like... how do you get into that? Do you just make a night of it? I can remember not too long ago being excited to even get hair under there, and now I'm considering shaving it all off? Should I even be embarrassed, since it's only natural? I know that if I was a guy and I saw a girl who looked like me, I would cringe at seeing hairy armpits and legs. Plus as it's growing in it's really irritating my skin.

Holy crap, I just re-read that paragraph and realized I wrote the phrase "If I was a guy." I almost deleted it and rephrased to closer to what I actually meant, but I dunno... just think about it. I'm not a guy right now. That's been made very obvious by the last week, if the previous weeks of sitting to pee weren't a tipoff. I don't think I'm comfortable making decisions based on how others see me, though, so it's all the better if guys don't like what they see. I don't want them to.

That said, it's eerie how comfortable I have gotten in this body. I'm not so squeamish to undress it, to walk around with it, to bathe it. Clothes are a whole other matter. Angie has a lot of summery dresses and I just don't feel comfy slipping into one of them. I tried one, and I don't like the way they fit or the way they flow down around my legs. Most of them are pretty short, so they can be unpredictable in the breeze, and when I sit down it's basically like sitting directly with my butt to the surface. But she only has a few pairs of shorts, and two pairs of jeans: one low rise, one high waist. The high-waisted ones feel really stuffy and don't really "breathe" in certain ways, and the low rise ones make me feel like they're going to slip down and reveal everything, especially when I bend down to get something off a low shelf. Mainly, I wear shorts and small, low-rise underwear so that they don't creep up.

I've made peace with "the girls," though. They're not huge, but I definitely feel them bobbing around under my top. I like that, during hot days, girls tops tend to have lower necklines so that they air out more, but I suspect it's really just for showing off. It still feels a little weird to have them on the edge of my vision, like, just under my eyeline. For the first few weeks I would wonder "What's that under my... oh, right, those." I think half the time I was literally just staring down at them, amazed at their existence, and I still catch myself idly running my hands over them when I think nobody's looking. Real girls... probably don't do that. But if I may say so, they feel pretty amazing, real soft and sensitive, not like I would have imagined. It just sucks that my only options are to cram them into a bra or let them hang and sway, with all the world watching them go. There's no way for them not to be on display. And they're only a 36B, so even though mine feel hefty, Derek's tits are D-cups. So I can only imagine what lugging those things are like for him. (I should note, though, that he doesn't leave the house and mostly wears sweats.)

So I feel like I've got the "average girl" or even "modest hippie girl" look down. I've found what I'm comfortable with. James can keep his experiments, and I'll stick to my routines.

Cal / Angie: A Bloody Headache

My period ended up lasting 6 days. Six anguishing days when my new uterus as rebelling against me, my head felt like a lightning storm, my breasts were sore. Six days I can look forward to every month. Days during which I was an impatient nervous wreck, lying curled up in bed, Googling "proper tampon use." This led me to this cute video. When the little girl shouts "Suck it up, this is your life now!" I clenched my teeth. At least it's only my life for a year. Derek, meanwhile, decided to play helpless victim, as if I wasn't going through it at the same time. He guilted me into making a tampon run, because he still doesn't have any money of his own.

I wrote down all my notes, my thoughts and impressions, and e-mailed them to the other ex-guys, in case they'll find them useful. I was reminded of that episode of South Park where the guys think they're getting periods. It felt so bizarre just to write down these details about myself.

Frankly, the fact that half the world goes through an experience like this every month, and I hardly knew anything about it, I'm amazed. And a little saddened. Maybe there should be a bit more open discourse about it. or maybe to women, it's just not that big a deal. Life can't come to a screeching halt for the duration. They learn, they get over it, they move on. I don't know. I guess I will.

I was reading over James' post, and I almost had to laugh. I certainly don't feel very sexy. I feel self-conscious and weird about dressing in another person's clothes, still. Wearing her underwear, clasping her bra over these breasts... like, a lot of these don't match, is there a rule about that? Nobody has objected yet to the way I dress as Angie, but I'm very careful not to wear anything cleavage-revealing. I don't even like wearing anything sleeveless or strapped so that you can see my bra, because that's just so weird to me! And I haven't done laundry since I've gotten here. This body is still so weird and uncomfortable to me that I can't imagine why women put themselves through the heck of makeup and sexy clothes for guys. I know I've gotten a few looks just by being out there au naturel, and it's freaky.


My advice is just to do what's comfortable, and if you're comfortable girling it up then all power to you. Me, I'll stick with the full coverage tops even in summer, and jeans.Even though they don't fit like my old jeans... the way they ride up and whatnot, but I guess that's permissible. After all I don't need as much room down there. God, guys, fashion is weird.

Cal / Angie: Get through this

Got kind of a 1-2 punch this weekend. The first was when I started bleeding. The second was when I got a text from my old phone number.

The first happened while I was at work. I guess I'll be in this body long enough to get used to this, to know what to look out for, but it took me completely by surprise and left a mess on my clothes. When I realized what happened, I turned to my co-worker Roz and asked if I could go home real quick to change. She gave me this look, like "You silly girl, you should be familiar with this by now." I was completely embarrassed.

So I got home, hurried to my room and just as soon as I'm ready to get dressed and go I hear Derek's voice: "Yo Cal, that you? Guess what, my pussy's bleeding!"

Great, so, we have that in common.

"Yeah..." I said weakly, "Mine too."

The tampons are in the drawer. I saw them right away when we moved in but I put out of my mind the idea that I might actually have to use one (or many!) It's a... a thing, that goes in you... that's not right. But I had to stop it up somehow, so...

I paused, with the thing in my hand. Derek calls in, "You need help getting it in there?"

"Shut the hell up!"

He comes closer to the door. "Just tryin' ta help, geez. Don't be embarrassed."

"God," I said, trying to work through it, "How do women go through this every month?" And the sad answer is that I'm about to find out. I guess you just grit your teeth and get through it.


The next day, I was off and I wanted to do nothing but sit around the house. Derek had the same idea, but that's his only idea. He's such a pain in the ass to live with, because Mona didn't leave him a job or really any other identity other than that body and this apartment. So he's turned out to be an incredibly lazy ass. And on days when I want to stay inn, we just sit around and drive each other crazy. I don't even know if he was doing anything, but our personalities just don't mix.

After I had enough of him, I went to my room. I hadn't checked my phone all day and I noticed there was a light indicating a new text. It asked if I was the real Cal Malloy, and if they were fully understanding what was happening back in Maine. My heart began to race and I bristled at the thought of that guy walking around with my body but... but I know he'll have an easier time than I am. I told him that if he ever needed anyone, I'd be there. Then I cried my eyes out because even though I knew it was going to happen, it still hurt and I'm just not strong enough to put up with this stuff. Everything I used to be is now being controlled by some stranger, and my future is completely dominated by whether or not that person decides to let me have it back (if that's even possible... see Matt and Lila.)

And then that was it. I was done. I am done. Done hoping that somehow this is going to go away anytime soon. Done screaming at the world... for now at least. I don't get to say "I don't want to go to Canada, be a girl and work in a hippie store." I don't get control over anything and it sucks. There is NOTHING I can do but be who I look like and learn to like it.

I don't know what that means, but I'm just going to keep doing what I'm doing and hope it all works out. It can't get any worse, right?

RIGHT?

Ugh, 3 or 4 more days of this.

Cal / Angie: What's the password?

I just want to sleep forever, or at least till all this is over.

After a few days of just running around trying to stay sane we've finally settled in... me and Derek are all set up at Angie and Mona's apartment. Derek has no trouble just sitting in front of the TV channel hopping but I'm not that comfortable yet. Mostly I just sit in Angie's room... my room now... looking at this blog or trying to memorize every item in the place. It's freaky. Soon I'm gonna get an email from someone saying they have my life. I'm sure they'll be thrilled. There's not a lot they'll have to do, I told them they can defer my fall enrollment and just... do whatever they need to do. I wonder what kind of people will become us. Old men, little girls... a whole family? I dunno. I don't want to say it but I worry that it'll be body thieves and I'll have to live like this forever. That thought's gonna be hard to shake.

There's a lot of information to take in. Addresses, computer passwords, phone contacts. Stuff that, if I was Angie, I would just know but because she's explaining her life to me I worry that she left some stuff out. Like, she told me where she works, a green nutrition store, but not what to do when I get there. I spent my whole first day awkwardly standing around hovering near cash hoping nobody would ask me to do anything special. Even worse I had to call one of Angie's co-workers because she was scheduled to open the store that day because...... well, you know how I said I felt like I forgot something in Maine? Keys.

Then I get home and Derek's still there on the couch, feet up, eating, feeling right at home and he makes fun of me for "playing along" and doing what I'm told. Like I have a choice, or like he does! Whatever, he can be a girl however he likes, and I'll be one how I like.

I feel weird just hanging out in someone else's apartment, almost as weird as trying on their clothes and eating their food. At first I didn't want to but I had been sweating through the same top and shorts for about 24 hours. Haven't tried on any other underwears though. That'll have to happen soon, although I feel like maybe hygiene wasn't this girl's main concern.

I don't know what to think about this girl. I'm getting a real hippie vibe from her. Her place was kind of a mess, and I'm used to thinking of girls as being real neat and tidy. She doesn't have a lot of possessions... Lots of multicultural decorations, dream catchers... jewelry... she seems to keep her hair long and messy and mostly wear flowing skirts. Vegetarian, obviously. She has a garden plot that she asked me to keep up. She's also got a Gecko named Geronimo, which is pretty cool. She doesn't seem like any girl I've ever met in Lowell, but that's what my parents always said "the city" did to people, places like Boston and New York. Made them "kooks." I'm trying not to agree with that.

I'm not looking forward to a year of this, but I'm doing the best I can.