Tyler/Lauren: Last Leg

I'm on the home stretch. It's literally just weeks before Meg and I go back to Maine. All of our ducks are in a row, except that one. You know, the one where I get my old body back. Meg doesn't believe me when I say I'm fine with it. Maybe I don't prefer things this way, but there's no use fighting or crying. What's done is done and I can live with it, because I have to.

Meg was right about something. She told me I should write more on the blog. I was never in the mood, and for a lot of the winter, my laptop was busted so my computer usage was homework-only, but it's not like I couldn't have done it at school in the resource room on lunchbreak, or crept down to the family PC after Paul and Sue were in bed. I just didn't want to. I didn't want to talk about what was happening with me - happening to me, happening around me - because it was embarrassing and I didn't want to admit it mattered.

Anyway, what it comes down to is I want to tell a story about me, but since I wasn't blogging much in January and February (and March and...) I need to fill you in on some details.

It starts with Mark. I met him back in the fall when I worked on the school's production of Oklahoma. He liked my carpentry skills, maturity and sense of humor. I liked that he wasn't a totally obvious jerk about wanting my attention. I could've pushed him away better, for his own good, and if he knew the truth about me he'd probably run screaming. I didn't feel anything that I would identify as attraction toward him... appreciation for his awkward charm, maybe, but it's not like he overwhelmed my now-girly hormones to the point where I couldn't keep my drawers on. Besides, I was, and am, in love with someone else, on a level I could never feel for Mark. It was that person I was thinking about as I laid in bed at night unable to sleep, that person I imagined myself holding and being held by.

"It's just a crush," I said, "He'll get over it." The problem was, I wasn't helping, more like I was encouraging him. I'm a pretty solitary person, but life can be lonely when you don't look like yourself and are stuck in the world of teens. Dana, Karlee and Ginnifer weren't enough, because as nice as they were, they were not my people. Compared with Mark, I couldn't be myself. I couldn't talk movies, music or politics with them. If I let my goofy side out, they'd look at me like I'd gone insane. Meg is "my people," but I had limited access to her, and she has expressed disapproval whenever I get flirty around here. Then in the middle of this crisis of mine, she went through a crisis of her own.

We fought a bit about that. I didn't like her behavior, I didn't think she was capable of something like that. It shocked me and bothered me and I wasn't mature about it, but neither was she.

All through January, before the line was crossed, when she was musing idly about "I'm thinking about Mykal again, I can tell he likes me, what should I do?" I was already getting fed up. I wanted to tell her how wrong it would be for her to lead Mykal on in any way, but I held her in too much esteem to get real with her and use tough language - instead of "That would be idiotic and selfish" I simply said "That sounds like a bad idea." She didn't listen. And me, I was too busy pursuing bad ideas of my own.

Mark became my shoulder to cry on, all winter. Anytime I needed to get out of the house, I would invite myself over to his. Anytime Meg was annoying me I would vent to him. Then he would wrap his arms around me, pretend he had any idea what I was babbling about, and tell me I was right even when I wasn't.

He knew not to try to kiss me.

He was just... really good. For a while.

But you can only really drag someone along like that for a short time before they start to ask questions. Like "Why aren't we dating?" "Why are you so comfortable pouring your heart out to me but you won't let me kiss you?" "How long do you expect me to put up with this?" "What do you want from me?"

By February, he would take longer to answer my texts and I would get irritated. "Come on, man, don't leave me hanging" I would nudge him to answer.

"I don't owe you my attention" he answered back.

"We're friends," I said back, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah. Just friends."

Fine, be that way.

Around this time, I had this revealing conversation with Phil about how boys and girls can't just be friends. You'd think "Oh, Tyler, you have a man's brain, you don't need insights from a kid who's lived a decade less than you." But sometimes you need guidance from outside your own situation. I don't remember ever being "just friends" with a girl by choice at that age. I'm sure it's not impossible, but if I liked the girl I wouldn't settle for it.

Mark was my shield. When I was with him, boys didn't target me, Meg's shit didn't bug me. The girls teased me a bit, but all in all I felt better. I wanted to keep that going, but I couldn't make the concessions Mark wanted. I couldn't let him touch me because that would start something I couldn't and wouldn't be able to see through. It wasn't fair, even if he didn't understand why.

So we stopped being friends.

Then I went on Spring Break and found out I was not getting my body back. And when I came back I felt like I had nobody to talk to - I didn't want to open up to Meg, I didn't have Mark, nobody could understand. I wanted to forget, I wanted to take my anxiety out on somebody.

And there was Phil. Living in my freaking basement.

I was having a bad day. Nothing but bad days at that point. He came home to find me loading up a gym bag - I needed to go punch something. "How are you getting there?" I say I'm taking the bus. He notes that I'm a small girl with a rather heavy bag on my shoulder and he has a car. Okay, fine, let's go. He grabs his bag too.

We hit the heavy bags. He commends me on my stance - "You sure don't throw a punch like a girl." I point out that Ronda Rousey exists.

I don't know how we got from there to his bed. It was like a Jedi mind game (yes, I know the term is "trick" but this was worse.) I was so hopped up on adrenaline I just felt like if it was ever going to happen, it would be then. He was kissing me and feeling me all over, I was kissing him back slightly, the voice in the back of my head saying it was wrong starting very quiet, drowned out by the impulse to let it play out... until the voices switched. I just barely had time to come to my senses before I got all the way naked. "No, no, no. Stop. Stop now. I don't want this."

"What do you mean? At the gym you were practically begging for it."

"This is the problem!" I cried out, "Every time I get within hollering distance of a man, he thinks I want his body. I don't. no offence, Phil, you're... cool and all, but this is not what I'm interested in."

"You're a fucking tease," he sneered. "Every day you leer at me, I can tell you're thirsty for it."

I don't remember ever leering. That's all in his head.

I screeched, "I can't have one off day without some dude begging me for sex, then acting like I'm the one with the problem because I don't want it! Get over it, Phil! Go find someone else to fuck!"

He called me a bitch, we didn't talk much after that, and I was alone again.

I broke down and mended fences with Meg and told her all about the new Tyler. I told her this changed nothing - I wasn't going to be Lauren Sherman one second longer than I have to, and I hoped things could go back to being okay between us. She assured me they could... and went on at length about how bad she felt for what she had done to Wade, and to me.

I told her she didn't have to be so hard on herself. People make mistakes. She's only human. It's not like I was never tempted.

"I wouldn't have blamed you," she said. "I know you think you have to resist because you're a man, but I wouldn't think any less of you if dated a boy."

"It's not that," I said. "Boy or girl, there's only one person I want to be with."

She hates it when I say stuff like that. She always tells me we'll have that conversation later. Later will have to be soon.

Things started to get better, and that brings us to my more recent posts. After clearing the air with Meg, and straightening up at school, I reached out to Mark. It started when I went to see the school production of The Importance of Being Earnest. Meg came too, explaining some of the Oscar Wilde background for me, how it was a satire of the London social scene or whatever. It didn't totally land with me, but I guess I kinda related to it, with the putting on false identities and all.

Afterwards, I said hi to some of the friends I had left over from my drama club days, working my way over to Mark, who was helping strike the set.

We struck up a conversation, I kind of apologized for not helping out with the play this semester. He caught me up on stuff with him, and before I knew it it was like the drama between us never happened. He seemed too embarrassed to even mention his behavior.

He asked me about my plans for Prom, and I said that I had a limo booked with the girls and their boyfriends. He said he wasn't sure what he was doing.

"You know..." I said sheepishly, "Plenty of room in the limo... for friends."

He smiled. "I'd like that."

When you're a man it's easy to get bitter about chicks who won't date you. I think Mark and I both kinda absorbed this same lesson about how if you can't be with someone, sometimes it's better to swallow it and keep them as a friend rather than cutting them out. If they mean that much to you.

Life gets lonely as hell sometimes.

Tyler/Lauren: Spring Break Part 2 - Fun With Bert and Stef

I was deep in thought the entire flight, with a bit of concern over how to present myself when I finally got to Florida. I had barely ever communicated with this man, except to confirm that I would be visiting him. I guess I could have taken a pass on the whole thing and just stayed at home, made up some excuse, but I the idea of taking a break from PA appealed to me. Much as I was looking forward to never going back to the South, the weather and the crowd has gotten me down, and this was my best bet for a brief escape.

I dunno what I was worried about: I jumped into this whole Lauren thing with hardly a second thought. 'Course, I knew I didn't have much of a choice. I took my marching orders knowing that if I felt shitty about it, it didn't make a bit of difference. I trusted it would work out fine, and it did.

considering what I've been through lately, I set the bar low for comfort anyway. Worst case scenario for the vacation: I have a less than pleasurable week but still get to enjoy good weather.

When I arrived in Florida, Bert and his girlfriend Stef were there to pick me up. I almost didn't recognize him: the photos Lauren has of him he is balding, but since then he's shaved his head completely and grown a greying goatee. His entire aesthetic screams "midlife crisis," right down to the bosomy, slightly younger woman on his arm.

Stef is very boisterous. She wraps me up in a hug, saying she's excited to finally meet me, and we're just going to be the best of friends. Uh huh. I have a hard time resisting playing the bratty teenage daughter as I push her to arms length (when I catch myself acting like that I wonder if the lifestyle has rubbed off on me, or if it's me being me - if grown men sometimes act the same as teenage girls without realizing it.) Bert and Stef go on and on about all the kinds of stuff we can do while I'm here, repeatedly assuring me that it's all up to me. I tell them I don't have much of an opinion. All I really want is to be alone, but that doesn't look like it's on the menu.

I don't want to be ungrateful for their hospitality, but I break it to them quickly that I'm not staying the whole week. I tell them I'm taking a college tour at the end of the week, so I have to leave a few days early. It's in Texas, too, and mom is real skittish about me moving out of state, so it's a secret, and I don't want her to know until I've made up my mind and heard the pitch. Bert says he understands - maybe he's a bit disappointed, but I think he's relieved I trust him enough to tell him something I'm keeping from Sue.

It's a lie, of course, the kind of bald-faced one I've gotten real used to telling. Lauren's not even going to graduate high school this year: Even if I pass every course, she won't have the academic pre-requisites to qualify for a diploma. I made a decision that I wasn't going to rob this girl of an education, so I've been treading water all year.

What I'm actually doing on Thursday is heading to Houston to see the real Lauren and Tasha in their current bodies. We have everything confirmed for July, and it's not as though I don't trust that they want their bodies back, but we agreed it would be nice to visit while I had time. Kind of a show of good faith.

I've learned from reading this blog that sometimes you can't trust people when they say they're going to do something.

When we got to Bert and Stef's house, it felt very spacious, but that's maybe because the Blanchard house is such cramped quarters. I wandered the halls of this sparsely-decorated two-storey detached home feeling like I was in an art gallery or something: from what I could tell, Stef was starting to influence the design, and she later told me she was interested in interior decorating. I made the mistake of asking her about the sofa and she went on and on about the relative merits of leather versus fabric and I completely blanked out. She also has a huge thing for vases, the more exotic-looking the better, but she says she's never traveled.

Stef is definitely a very feminine woman: never leaves her bedroom in the morning without full makeup, loves to cook and clean. It's not hard to see why Bert is attracted to her, but she represents a kind of womanhood I've gotten really uncomfortable with since being on this side of the fence.

Bert works weekends at a boat dealership, so I wound up spending a lot of time with Stef at first. She got me up at 8 saying that just because I was on vacation didn't mean she was going to let me sleep my life away. I said, "What if that's what I want to do?" and she said the was a whole world out there for me, and you only live once.

Hm.

She boasted that their backyard opened right to the beach, and asked if I had brought my bikini. Of course I had - it's Florida after all. She said that if I wanted to I could spend all day lying around in the sand, but she was determined to get me out of the house. I felt like that was an acceptable compromise.

The new swimsuit I had bought as modest but form-fitting - not showy, but not exactly a burqa. It was high-waisted, which I imagined might make me look like Taylor Swift, but conceals the weight gain around my midsection, which is more noticeable than my butt or thighs, which have also increased in size in the last 8 months. I wore it under a tanktop and a light see-through wrap around my waist.

Stef accompanied me to the beach. As soon as we arrived she removed her cutoff jeans and hoodie to reveal a very miniscule bikini. I suppressed a gasp - for a woman her age and physique, it was pretty daring, letting her breasts hang out, as well as her lovehandles and belly. I wouldn't have called her fat, but her suit didn't hide anything at all. I wondered if I should be embarrassed for her or impressed by her.

She began to apply sunscreen and I removed my top layer to do the same. She remarked "Wow girl, you're a fox! Don't let your dad find out what you're hiding under there, he'll never let you leave the house!"

"Um, thanks." I got uncomfortable in a way I don't when men compliment me. It's praise from women I can't seem to shrug off. "You look good too..." I added, not-very-convincingly.

She smiled, "I like to think I'm still a 17-year-old hottie inside," she sighed, "Let this be a warning, it can all go south on you quick."

I honestly didn't know if she was fishing for compliments or what, but I had already said she looked good so I just laughed lightly.

As we laid out on blankets, she asked, "So, you got a boyfriend? Maybe we can find you a fling while we're here. Hah, just kidding." Except I think maybe she wasn't.

"I'm not really looking," I sighed.

"Of course you are," she said smugly, "Everyone's always looking, even if they say they're not."

I didn't respond, so she continued trying to engage me in girl talk. "Who's your ideal guy?"

"I don't really have one," I said, "I mean, I thought I did, but... I really don't."

"Come on, give me something!" she laughed, "If you could date any actor, who would it be?"

I sighed and started to recount a conversation the girls at school had had about Liam Hemsworth from the Hunger Games movies, pretending I was part of it. I felt like Stef could sense my apathy, so she interjected by saying she would date any of the guys on Game of Thrones, "Even the little guy," but not to tell my dad because they all have luxurious hair.

I laughed and had to admit that Jon Snow guy is a bit cute. Maybe it's the accent.

Despite myself, I started really thinking about it. I like to pretend otherwise, but I do have a straight girl's hormones rushing around inside of me, and there have been moments I've been overtaken by some pretty serious desires. But they aren't tied to looks. It's more personalities that I respond to, moments where I feel genuinely charmed by someone, looked at as an equal and a human being. That's probably why all the guys at school bug me. Having to square these feelings with the person I believe myself to be inside, as well as keeping Lauren's life drama-free as possible, is pretty torturous, so it becomes convenient to ignore it altogether.

"There's one guy back home," I finally admitted, "He's cocky and a bit of a jerk, but I can talk to him a bit, so that's nice. It just... it wouldn't work." I think about Phil sometimes, how he's right there under my roof if I ever want him, but I know it would end badly.

"Well, you never know," she said, elbowing me suggestively. "Is he cute at least?"

"Yeah," I admitted, "But I would never tell him that." That got a laugh.

I also think of Mark once in a while. Poor kid. He really liked me, and I just had to push him away, and now we're not even really friends. I went back to the Drama Club and his entire attitude toward me had changed as if overnight. That's more guilt than regret, because I played that one exactly right.

I abruptly changed the subject. "There's one person I like more, but... it can't happen. They're with someone else."

"See, that's why I never say never," she winked, "What's he like?"

"A good friend. Really understanding. Sometimes frustrating. And I feel pretty bad for having these feelings." I didn't mention it was a she. "We both know about it, but pretend we don't because it's easier."

"You can't be afraid to take what you want," she said. She seemed very eager to provide these little fortune cookie sayings.

I quickly got used to Stef's strong personality and it even brought out some really repressed sense of fun in me. It was the first time since my pageant adventures that I played girly-girl -- she took me to her favorite nail place to get pedicures, and even though I was uncomfortable being fussed over, I was pretty pleased with the results.

We met Bert for dinner that night at a French restaurant so nice it made me uncomfortable (and underdressed compared to the elegant dresses on the ladies nearby.)

"You know I'm not exactly loaded," Bert said, "But my daughter doesn't come to town very often, so you deserve a bit of spoiling." He leaned in to give me a peck on the cheek and I tried to feel grateful, but all I could think of was having waffles for dinner in the mobile home where I used to live -- or more recently, bringing a plate of chicken to my room because I just need to get away from the family for a while. I told him I appreciated it.

We spent the next few days sightseeing, and I did end up getting a fair amount of "me-"time and R&R. We had BBQs with the neighbors, and I was invited to play cards with Stef's lady friends. It was a pretty full few days.

Once I was feeling comfortable after a few days, I vented some of my frustrations about living with Sue and Paul, which Bert was all too happy to hear and it felt like we were almost bonding. On my last day there he took me to a Grapefruit League game, which was nice.

Thursday morning he drove me to the airport, and he reminded me that it was a secret between him and me that I as going to Texas. I smiled and hugged him, "Thanks for everything."

Tyler/Lauren: My Crappy Valentine

I was in a pretty dark place on Valentine's Day.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not depressed. There's just nothing good in my life right now. We're between productions with the Drama club, my friends are drifting away from me (or me with them) Meg and I are working through our differences, but far from the best we've been. I'm behind on my homework. I've got cramps pretty bad. I'm rooming with a messy 11-year-old girl and suppressing the desire to scream at her to get her shit put away because it's so inconsiderate and I work pretty hard to keep my little corner of the house neat and tidy.

I don't know whether it's the weather, the lack of a social life, the pressure of school or the female hormones, but I am about to snap.

Lauren turned 18 on January 23. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about it. In the eyes of the law I am an adult, but to the world, and myself. Lauren's still a "kid." 17 and a half is just a stone's throw from 18. I don't look or feel any different, but I know in my bones, this body exists in the world differently than it did a month ago and that's weird. some kind of protective bubble of "childhood" has disappeared.

I asked for gift cards, so Lauren could get some new clothes once she came back to her body, but ended up getting a lot of clothes anyway: clothes had had to be exchanged because family members estimated my size wrong, on account of what I've done to Lauren. For the record, I don't think I did anything wrong, merely took her from emaciated to skinny. At least, what is considered very skinny in the land of Paula Deen butter-fried bacon. I joke, but I do miss biscuits and gravy.

Saturday night was Valentine's Day, of course, and it felt pretty brutal knowing that Meghan was out there rekindling Tasha's romance with Wade. I don't like admitting I can't get over her. I feel like my body is betraying me by pushing all these hormones through me. Whatever I feel for her feels pretty unhealthy, and yes a little wrong, but consider the alternative - and I know there are alternatives.

It was 3 AM that night and I couldn't sleep. I was lying up in bed, listening to Kylie wheeze, when I heard Phil stumble through the door and into his room. I waited about twenty minutes, then crept down there to see the light peeking out from beneath the door.

I stood in front of it for probably a minute or so, my lungs shaking with each breath. I knew there was a huge risk in what I was about to do. No part of me thought it was smart or sane. But I needed to do something. It was like being a smoker again and lying up thinking about getting a cigarette. At a certain point you just need it.

I knocked. He answered quickly and seemed pleasantly surprised it was me.

"Sorry," he said, "Was I loud?"

"No, no, not really," I said. "I just... I saw you were still up... and this is gonna sound really stupid, but I need a friend right now, and you're the only one around. Would you mind if we talk?"

He looked at me for a second like I'd grown a third arm straight outta the back of my head, but he let me in and shut the door behind us.

He laid down on his bed, and I sat against the wall on the far side of the room. He patted the bed next to him, but it was a pretty unappealing option.

"Come on," he beckoned, "You're the one who wants to be friendly."

"Not like that," I said.

"I know, but I can't hear you from back there."

So I went and sat on his bed, back against the headboard, knees up to my chest in a protective position.

"What's on your mind?" he asked.

"It's hard to say," I said, coming ever so close to blurting out the facts about me before realizing how insane it would sound. "How was your night?"

"Shitty," he said, "Almost hooked up, but the girl was a tease. I'm pretty drunk though."

I shrugged at that. As a guy I would have been rooting for him, but in my current position I can see her reasons.

"Do you feel bad that you're not seeing anyone on Valentine's Day?"

"Meh. It's just another day," he said as if it was insane of me to ask.

"Yeah, I used to think so too," I said, "I guess I'm becoming a real... girl." I stopped and snorted a laugh at how I must've sounded.

"Yeah you are," he said, giving me uncomprehending, narrow eyes.

I decided to try to explain. "I had a fight with my best friend. I dunno how to explain it. It was about a guy."

"She stole him from you?"

"More like he stole her from me," I muttered.

"Friend gets in a relationship, you never see friend again," he surmised. "I got it."

"Yeah, basically," I said. "It's more complicated than that... but not really."

"Well, if she's your friend, you be happy for her," he said, lying back on his bed with his eyes closed, as if in a zen trance, "And if you're her friend she'll come back."

"I guess," I said, "I really don't know why I feel so bad. I just always pictured... something different."

"With who?" he asked, clearly confused.

"I don't think he's right for her," I said. "That's all."

"Okay," he said, "I see it now. No offense, but that's weak. Like, let her decide for herself."

"You don't--" I started to say, "Whatever."

There was a silence for a while. He was still lying there, not looking at me. He reached up and put his hand on my knee.

I asked, "Do you have many female friends?"

"Sure," he said, "A couple."

"And were they all just girls you wanted to date but couldn't?"

He paused for a while then answered "Mostly."

"Any girls who wanted to date you, but you didn't want to date them?"

He looked at me with a smirk and said "That's not how guys work."

I grimaced.

Another silence passed between us, until I broke it by asking, "Could you date somebody if it meant never having sex with them?"

"What?" he winced, "What would be the point?"

"Company," I sighed, "Companionship. Shared interests."

He sat up, "Sorry, but no. When you get a bit older you'll see that sex has to be part of a relationship."

I got really annoyed by that "When you get older" bit, but it's not the first time I've heard that. I didn't like his take on relationships, either, but as much as I wanted to believe the opposite I have a hard time doing so too.

"I don't think I'm gonna ever have sex again," I sighed.

"You'll find somebody," he said quickly, looking over at me with a smile that suggested he'd be open to being that somebody.

"You're a good dude, Phil," I begrudgingly admitted, "Sometimes you're annoying, but you mean well. You should probably know this can't happen though." I gestured between the two of us.

He scoffed, "Whatever," and rolled over on the bed. I quietly excused myself.

I went back to my room and turned my phone on. I started scrolling through the old text messages. There were several from Meg, random conversations with Lauren's friends, and Mark. There were a bunch of one-off "Happy Birthday" texts, including one from Wade, which would've been right after he and Meg were having those problems, which I found weird at the time because I didn't think he and I were that close. Still nice, though. I hate that I consider him my enemy, because he is basically a good dude.

Scrolling back a ways, I found texts with the real Lauren, and then, my sister Carrie, coordinating our return to the Inn and checking in on how she's doing with Meg's body.

And then just before that, sitting like a brick at the bottom of the list, is a conversation with "New Tyler."

But I really don't want to get into that right now.

Tyler/Lauren: Space issues

I already kind of didn't like the holidays, but being dragged through them in Lauren's body has been a nightmare. I finally had a break from school, figuring I'd get some time to myself, but no. Friends start making plans to hang out, family drags you around, you start PMSing hard on Christmas Eve, and before you know it it's the week after New Year's and you're back in school. Not to mention all the homework assignments I had due and the massive amount of personal drama I put myself through.

Lauren's laptop broke not long before Christmas, which didn't help matters, and I didn't want to post here on the family PC for some reason. As much as I use the laptop for schoolwork, Paul and Sue consider it a luxury so getting it fixed wasn't on the top of their priorities with all the Xmas expenses - and the rest of their cash tied up in another little project: Finishing the basement.

And you'd think "Oh, Ty, you suggested that months ago, so you could move down there. Sounds great!" It would be, if that was the case but it's not. Just after Thanksgiving Paul revealed he was going to finish the basement so he could rent it out - to Phil, who wants to save some money by not living on campus this semester. Paul's even giving the guy a job at the chicken place.

Phil isn't, like, a monster or anything. He's someone I'd rather not see because he obviously has the hots for me and isn't shy about pursuing it (the whole step-cousin thing isn't an obstacle for him, apparently.) With Mark still occasionally buzzing around, the last thing I need is another male giving me that kind of attention. And since he's all moved in but the basement doesn't have its own bathroom yet, it just underlines the issues I have with sharing such a confined space with so many people (Seriously, every time I have to go someone's already in there. And in Lauren's body, I have to go a lot.)

I have talked to Meg about the possibilities of moving in with her. Neither of us is wild about the idea - explaining to Paul and Sue that I'd rather live with my stepsister and her boyfriend seems like a good way to replay the drama when I suggested taking a year off school. And it's not like they have space for me anyway, I'd basically be crashing on their couch. As nice as it would be for Meg and I to be under the same roof to lean on each other as secret-keepers, it has enough hitches to make it unappealing (to say nothing of the burning in the pit of my stomach whenever I see her and Wade getting affectionate.)

I've thought about approaching some of Lauren's other friends, but I don't want to be a burden, and I don't want to have to explain it, and there's part of me that feels like Lauren is so on the outs with her family that deliberately removing her from their house would just make her more estranged when she gets back.

I get really sad when I look at some of the clothes I can't wear anymore because I put on fifteen pounds or so, and how I'm already not returning Lauren's life in mint condition. It doesn't matter to me, but I know it's different for Lauren.

Tyler/Lauren: Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving was a long day. I wasn't looking forward to it, because Meg couldn't be there, and she's generally my saving grace at these big family functions: she and Wade decided to spend the holiday with his family, given they tend to spend more time with hers. We tend to cling to each other like live preservers in these situations, but I guess we're still here for a while yet, these situations are bound to come up. Besides, I figured, my life has such a high level of background awkwardness I didn't think it could get that intolerable.

It began the night before when Susan told me to lay out a nice outfit. Now, it's true early on in this gig I "girled up" pretty well, to the point of doing that pageant... I was following this impulse to "be" Lauren as best I could, but it exhausted me by the end of the summer and since the beginning of the semester I have been getting more and more accustomed to just not giving a shit about my appearance, from wearing clothes that clearly weren't meant to go together, looking frumpy and un-made-up, and generally not doing anything noteworthy with my hair besides a bun or a ponytail. It was easy and fine to get by with for the duration of the play, when I was working as a stagehand and functionality was a plus, and it had the side-bonus of acting as a shield against guys who might think, if I paid too much attention to my appearance, that it was for their benefit.

(The exception being Mark, who, bless his soul, was seemingly more attracted to my personality... poor kid.)

But okay. I'm making concessions to this family gathering thing, so I can slip on a pair of tights and a dress. Now granted, I don't really understand dresses where the zipper is in the back and you literally need someone else in the room to zip you up, but Kylie helped me out with that. As I mentioned a while ago, I think, Kylie and I have been sharing a room, because Sue and Paul realized that she and her twin brother were getting to the age where one would be menstruating and one would be masturbating and they had to put space between them. I suggested Paul could renovate the basement to the point where I could use it as a room, and it looks like he's been considering it.

We drove about 40 minutes out to an imposing house where we've had a few Sunday dinners since I've been here. I dunno if Paul comes from money or if it's just my upbringing that makes me think these people had quite a bit in the bank.

So I'm there, looking like a floral-clad loser, at the home of these relatives who not only do I barely know, but I don't think Lauren really knows, because again they're Paul's side of the family, where his parents and siblings were hosting the day. I shook a few hands and listened to a few anecdotes, then quietly slipped away. I found an unused bedroom to sit quietly and read the book I brought, Catch-22, which I'm reading for English class.

After about twenty minutes I see the door open and a familiar face poke in. Phil, the nephew of Paul's that I met back during our trip to Erie. And I should mention that at this point, I was so irritated by my clothes that I had actually stripped down and gotten under the covers, figuring - really stupidly - that I could just stay there for a little bit without anyone noticing, then quickly dress myself when it was time for dinner. You'll remember that this is a stupid plan, because I was wearing a dress I just explained that I needed help getting into.

So imagine a simultaneous high-pitched scream of terror, and a gruff male shout of "holy shit!" upon seeing a relatively pretty blonde girl (who is not biologically related) with the covers just pulled up to her armpits.

I threw my book at him and wrapped myself in blankets: "Get out, get out!"

"What the fuck are you doing?" He said, standing against the door with his eyes covered instead of leaving like I asked.

"Reading!" I said, reaching over for my bra. "What are you doing in here?"

"I left my phone in here," he said, gesturing over to a bag of luggage in the corner. "Jesus, what is seriously wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" I said, slipping my dress on, "I was uncomfortable in my dress, so I thought I'd... damnit, forget it. Okay, I need you to do me a favour right now. Keep your eyes closed, but... ugh... can you zip my dress up?"

He was confused, but he obliged, fumbling around my lower back for the zipper (shudder) for a moment. I could tell he was taking his sweet time, too. And then once I was satisfied that all un-seeable parts of me were covered, I let him open his eyes.

"Okay, I am really embarrassed, please tell nobody what you saw."

"Sure, sure," he said, "But the last time we met you were in a bikini, so I'm not sure how this is any different."

I gritted my teeth: there was a difference, but I wasn't really in any place to complain because the whole embarrassing situation was my own doing, and I was right beside myself. "I dunno what I was thinking," I said, trying to force a laugh about it, "I just wanted to get comfortable, y'know?"

"So that's how you get comfy? Get naked at family Thanksgiving?"

"Not usually," I said, "I kinda just wanted to forget people were out there? Like, I don't do well in these situations lately, and I got carried away. It made sense when I started."

"So you were hiding," he said, "And you figured as long as you were hiding, you'd strip down for a minute."

"Yeah, it's... ironically I was more comfortable, at least for the moment."

"Well, now I want to hide," he said.

"No way, man!" I said, "They're your family."

"Your family too!" he was quick to retort. "Your mom's been married to my uncle for what, ten years?"

"More," I scowled, although I couldn't in the moment remember how much more.

"Dinner's still an hour away, and I just can't have any more conversations about my first year at college," he said, "So we're either hiding together, or I'm telling everyone what I saw."

I stared him down. He didn't seem to be bluffing.

"All right," I said, "But I'm really trying to read here so don't distract me."

"Whatever," he said, putting some headphones on "Can I sit on the bed at least?"

I rolled my eyes. "Fine."

And then we just sat there for an hour, quietly, and it was... kinda nice. The first time I met Phil, I thought he was a loudmouth wannabe player who couldn't stop hitting on me. Here he had the upper hand and decided to play nice.

Don't get me wrong, I saw him shift his eyes over to me every so often so it wasn't hard to imagine what he was thinking (I'm literally the only person there not related to him, I'm in his age range, I'm technically "available" and he'd seen most of my body.) So there was still this unshakeable feeling of grossness... which kept flashing through my mind over dinner... I think we covered fine but there seemed to be some murmurs of "Oh Lauren and Phil seemed to be getting along." But hey, what's Thanksgiving without some family awkwardness?

I was lucky in the sense that, as an outsider to the family and a teenager, people are keen to give me space as compared to Kylie and Kevin or some of the other extended relations. I got to enjoy a fairly nice Thanksgiving meal in more or less peace, occasionally thinking back to the Thanksgivings of my youth which were nowhere near this done up and certainly didn't have this many in attendance. Besides all the chaos, it's actually kind of nice to be surrounded by people at times. They're not bad, I'm just within my rights to be bitter about it. The food was good, and I ate as much of it as I could (I'm still grappling with the fact that my eyes are bigger than Lauren's stomach, but we're slowly coming into sync on that.)

After dinner, Phil and I kind of rescued each other from having to put up with prying relatives. I had had enough of my book so we ended up having a talk. He mentioned college not being as exciting as he imagined - a lot of work and not much social life. But he was hoping to become a lawyer and maybe even a politician, so hard work was his lot. I didn't peg him as the ambitious type, but it made a certain kinda sense given his occasionally belligerent personality, especially when we first met.

He mentioned I seemed very distant compared to the outgoing girl everyone seemed to think I was. I gave my stock answer that I was "Finding myself," and mentioned doing the backstage work at the play. That made him scoff: "not a lot of money in that." I told him not everything was about money. He put his hand on my knee and told me I was being naive.

I froze.

His fucking hand. Was on. My fucking knee.

I could see him start to lean in. There was a moment where I could have moved, could have said something, but instead I froze and let it happen. He pressed his lips to mine.

I let them linger for a second and just as he started to increase the pressure from a peck to a full-on French or whatever, I moved away.

My heart was beating fast. My face was flushed with embarrassment. It's easy to imagine what it looked like, a 19-or-so year-old boy planting a harmless kiss on a 17-year-old girl, but remember in reality that boy was kissing a grown man of 30.

"No," I said after it was done. His hand was still on my knee. In fact it was moving up the hem of my dress. I wanted to snap that hand off at the wrist. Despite his size and strength advantage I think I might have been able to do it, too.

"Why not?" he asked, somehow offended, "I thought we were--"

"There's a lot of reasons," I said, "And I'm sorry you got the wrong idea."

I stood and made some distance between us. He stood too - I noticed the distinct bulge in his pants, not that I begrudge him that. He was between me and the door.

I shuffled around the bed.

"Phil," I said in the deepest, most intimidating voice I could muster (which was not very much) "What happens in the next 30 seconds is going to determine exactly what kind of guy you are."

I reached for the door knob. He rocked on his heel for a second as if he was seriously unsure if he was going to let me leave. But he did move away. He asked "Is it because of, like, the family?"

"No," I said with a heavy sigh, "There's more to it than that."

He shrugged like he didn't see my point but was letting me have it anyway. "I put my number in your phone," he said. I just said "Okay" in response because I really did not know what to think about that. As soon as I was out of the room, I marched down the hallway and looked myself in the mirror. A light trace of tears could be seen on my cheeks, I dabbed them away. "Don't," I tried to command myself. Don't what exactly, I am not sure.

The rest of the evening didn't last too long. On the car ride home I kept re-playing the scene in my mind. I wondered what part I played in that little moment. Yes, I had been getting along with him, and maybe there was an undertone of (ugh) flirtatiousness to it. Whatever part of me has been transformed, wherever my interests lie, I have the right to excuse myself from those situations. The logical part of my brain tried to settle me down: "I let it happen, then I stopped it as soon as I felt it was wrong." It should be a clean-cut issue. But there's more to it, isn't there... I just felt, and feel, so sick about it.

When I got home, I looked through my contacts and sure enough, there was Phil. I scrolled past that, though, to "Tasha," and typed in "Hey, how was your Turkey Day?" putting on as much of a chipper facade as I could.

Tyler/Lauren: Weekend Pt 2

I slept in as late as I could on Saturday, but by 11 I was ready to face the world. I went and found Meg and asked if she wanted to take a hike or something. Wade invited himself along, and Meg just kind of rolled her eyes and let it happen.

Since the three of us don't have a ton of things to talk about otherwise, I decided to make conversation with Wade. "So, you're a tattoo artist, right? How'd you get into that?"

He talked about loving art, but not wanting to limit himself to a conventional canvas... he said that tattoo art was the most personal form of art, the connection between the artist, the work and the recipient was more personal than if someone just bought a piece of art you drew, and that a lot of people liked his original designs. It was actually kind of a deep conversation, all things considered... which made me even more annoyed because I want to hate this guy, but there were moments where he and I got along better than he did with Meg. But if I had to live with him, I'd hate him more.

He told the story of how he and "Tasha" met, with her coming in for a simple tattoo design, but adding bits to it just as an excuse to see him. By the way, the tattoo in question is a lower back "tramp stamp," a fact that Meg is pretty dang self-conscious about. ("Well," I told her, "Good thing you don't have to see it ever." That didn't help.)

We got back to the beach, and Meg expressed her desire to do some swimming after lunch, confiding to me that she hadn't done that much of it since her accident years ago and was excited to get in the water. I told her to have fun, and she said I should join them at the beach. My only other real option was to join the younger kids' watergun fight, which considering my training as a marksman might've been unfair. (Okay, I just didn't want to mingle with the kiddies.)

"Oh, I dunno, I didn't bring a swimsuit."

"I threw one in your bag when you weren't looking," she said.

That rassum frassum...

Real-talk, though, it was fine. It was a peach-colored two piece that was actually pretty modest, with a boyshort cut on the lower half and a tankini on the upper half with a high neckline, covering pretty much all my jiggly parts. I was actually thankful that she didn't pick a one-piece, because even though it's a bit more modest, I'm not as accustomed to wearing that kinda bodysuit as I am a two-piece underclothe now.

I wore a couple of layers over it at first, going down to the beach to find tons of people splashing around. I decided just to lie out on a towel for a bit. A girl came by and told me I should probably strip down a bit if I didn't want tanlines. I was already getting a lot of uneven color, so despite my natural urge to tell her I didn't care, I know that the way I dress as Lauren sometimes highlights these things, so off came the overshirt and shorts.

"Wow," she said, "If I had a body like you I wouldn't cover it up."

I raised an eyebrow. She was pretty, but appeared to be a 15-year-old slip of a girl. I didn't know how to respond. It wasn't the first remark I've ever heard about my body from someone who doesn't know who I really am, but it struck me more than the girls saying they liked my prom dress or my hair. It was just an earnest remark about my body, from a girl who may very well develop one of her own someday soon.

"Yeah well," I said bitterly, "You should see my stepsister."

Speaking of whom, Meg came to sit with us not long after that. She looked really at peace with her body in a revealing bikini. I tried not to stare too long, but it was very attention-getting, considering what Tasha's body is equipped with.

My feelings about it are... strange. My reaction wasn't that far off from how I might have stared and let my eyes drift downward as a guy. My brain was still telling me "Hey, look, boobs!" even though I'm well-accustomed to my own pair by now, not to mention Meg being a friend and a human being, not an object.

I'm not even talking about sexual attraction here, I just think everyone likes to see someone attractive. That's why women buy Cosmos with Kate Upton on the cover, right? In that moment, I suddenly understood what the girl was getting at when she complimented me. Women can talk about how they look to each other without seeming lewd about it.

"Hey you guys," Meg said, "Need any sunscreen?"

"Uh, sure," I stammered, then turned to my new friend, "Uh, this is Tasha, my aforementioned stepsister, and I'm, uh, Lauren."

"Oh, wow, my name's Lauren too" she said, giggling at either the coincidence or my inability to remember my own name, "I'm here with Aaron."

She gestured over to one of the cousins, who looked perfectly age-appropriate and non-threatening.

Meg offered to apply the sunscreen to my back, and I accepted. As she did, she muttered in my ear "Don't worry, there's nothing sexual about this, we're just two friends applying skincare products. You can do me next if you want."

My response was a perhaps overly flirty "I'd be happy to."

Her response was a sigh of "Don't start."

We stayed around the water until dinner. Some of the guys, were using their strength to toss the girls around in the water. The girls seemed to like this, including Little Lauren, who was getting awfully chummy with a taller, broad-shouldered older guy, which made me raise my eyebrow, because that was definitely not the guy she came with. I excused myself, which may have been a mistake in the long run.

I went to go get changed - incidentally, into the dress that Meg had packed me, because it seemed like a good garment to dry off in - and sat down for dinner, and who should sit beside me but Broad-Shoulders.

"Hey," he said in a deep, bro-ish voice, "I'm Phil."

Phil hadn't bothered to put a shirt on, and was still dripping with water. I tried not to acknowledge him directly, I just nodded and said "I'm Lauren. Sue's daughter."

"I think I remember you," he said, "You've really grown up since the last time I saw you."

"Okay," I said. "I guess so."

I could see his eyes flickering between my chest and my face.

"Why'd you leave the beach?"

"I was getting bored," I said, "And I didn't want to get thrown around. Looked dangerous."

"Nah, we're just havin' fun," he said, "Everyone else liked it."

"Yeah? Good for them."

He seemed to think I was just playing hard to get, but I was really squirming. Meg was nowhere to be seen to offer me an escape line.

I think two months is too soon to say I am "used" to guys looking at me like a piece of meat. A lot of the guys I've dealt with know Lauren from school and have a certain comfort around her, but know that she's not dating material. They maybe cross the line by a toe, and I don't respond so they back off, but in this case, there was just no picking up the vibe, as he kept talking, while I kept my responses short.

"I saw you there and I wanted to talk to you. You looked really hot."

Gee thanks, I thought, my favorite subject, how "hot" I look. I twisted in my seat so that he couldn't see down the front of my dress, but he had a pretty high viewpoint.

I decided to level with him. "Listen, man... I saw you getting really handsy with that other Lauren, maybe you should talk to her."

"She's over there with Aaron," he said bitterly. "For some reason."

"Did you know they were dating when you, uh, you know...?"

"Nope."

I guess Other-Lauren didn't cross any lines, a little bit of innocent flirtiness, but still... dance with the one you brought, right?

"She seems kinda young for you anyway, dude," I said, "What are you, twenty? Twenty-one?"

"I'm only 18," he said. That didn't seem so bad, but the hitting on every girl in sight wasn't endearing either.

I decided to get him talking about himself, asking about his favorite sports teams and crap like that. I tuned out, finished my meal quietly and excused myself.

I went to my room and laid down. A while later I heard a knock. A muffled voice said "Lauren, it's Tasha."

I sat up and called out, "Uh... 'Tasha?'"

"You never know who's listening, just... can I come in?"

"Sure."

I was lying down on the bed and she sat next to me.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said without hesitation, "Why?"

"I guess I just always feel the instinct to ask how you are," she shrugged, "You have this, like, blank expression on your face and I don't know how to read it."

I told her about the conversation I had just had with Phil. "I just had this moment of, like... this is my life. This is all really happening. So I decided I needed to get away from it."

"That's understandable," she said, "In fact it's perfectly normal. But I worry, you know that."

"I'll survive," I said, probably not convincingly.

She probably wanted to ask me more, but I think she knows that sometimes these longs gab sessions wear on me. I didn't want to talk about myself, or Phillip or Other-Lauren and Aaron or her and Wade... so we just sat there for a while, and then before I knew it we were just lying side by side. And we stayed there, quietly, for about twenty minutes or so, just relaxing. It was pretty much the best I've felt in months, kind of forgetting myself, drifting away form my body, but not feeling alone. And that just kind of saved the weekend for me.

Afterwards, we found the rest of the family engaged in a karaoke sing-off. I was kind of aghast, but with everyone knowing what kind of aspiring performer Lauren is - again, the singing lessons, which have raised my ability from nonexistent to merely dreadful. I declined as much as I could, but Meg goaded me (and provided a few drinks for courage.) I ended up belting out a version of Steve Miller's "The Joker," which requires zero singing talent anyway. It was a hit with the older audience, who didn't think I'd know it. As the night went on, I got more and more high from the cheers and did more songs from my own youth, including Pearl Jam, Guns n' Roses and even Smashmouth, as opposed to recent tunes from Taylor Swift or Katy Perry. I'm not usually one who enjoys being the center of attention, but, well, it suits Lauren-Me better than the real me, I guess.

When I'm asking for it.

We kept going until people started to fade around 3 AM. I slept until noon or so, and then it was a scramble to get home on Sunday. All in all the weekend had its ups and downs, and now the house is back to its normal cramped mode. I'm seeing more of the ups and downs of being Lauren. People give you a lot of crap, but they also give you a lot of credit when you do something they like. There may be hope yet.