Tyler/Valerie: So this was Christmas...

Now that I have a couple of free minutes though I just want to let you know how I am... tired! Holy smokes y'all, I have had to work extra-hard to pay the rent on my new place, and it ain't even that great. I really appreciate what Ryan was doing for me with the last place even if the environment wasn't so healthy, and, well, all that other shit that went down between us. But I'll always know that the motivation for the breaks he was giving me was, well, what it was, no matter how much he denies it.

November was already busy enough. I moved in with Maddie and her sister Charlie, who I hadn't met or seen prior to moving day. She showed up with just a duffel bag, which made me already like her since she reminds me of me - someone who travels around without much of an agenda and is happy to float through life, and I mean that as a compliment. America's a great country to just drift through, and honestly I wish I was brave enough to get out on the road as a woman the way I was as a man.

Seeing them together, they're definitely two sides of the same coin... the disorganized, chaotic, sarcastic Charlie and the tidy, friendly Maddie. They bicker, but in real sisterly way where they have each other's back if someone else were to step on their toes. And then there's their appearances... they have the same genetic code, the same face, the same body essentially, but they do very different things with it - Maddie with her long ombre hair and makeup, Charlie with her short, boyish shag, piercings and tattoos. One favors dresses and tights, one wears jeans and men's tees with comic book characters on them.

Given all that... I mean, I'm not a total hayseed, I've been around. Based on everything about her, I wasn't all that surprised when my guess was confirmed abd found out Charli is a lesbian. It did make me feel oddly self-conscious about being around her - like, what does she think of me? Just some "straight girl"? I don't style myself as someone who was born a man and spent many years happily dating women... I can't even "come out" to her about that because it's not really part of my backstory as Valerie. Maybe I just want credibility for not being as "vanilla" as I seem, for all the things I've seen, and done... and been.

But there hasn't been a ton of time to dwell on that anyway. It's not like I've been home a lot.

Between 8 hour days at the coffee shop and sometimes 6-hour events with the caterer, I was on my feet for almost the whole month of December, and when I did get a day off the last thing I wanted to do was shop for Christmas presents. Having time to sit and think about the season just made me feel alone and awful because, well... look at where life has taken me. I never, ever felt bad about leaving my "real" family behind (except for Carrie, who I'm so lucky knows where and who I am, but it's not like we visit much, and we go weeks without texting) but the season really underscored some of the negative feels that go along with my situation.

I mean, I have Valerie's family, and they're nice "normal" Upstate New York people. They want me to know they love me and care about me and wish I would come "home" for Christmas, but I really wasn't feeling like intruding. When I started getting Christmas letters - forwarded from my old address because of course I forgot to let Valerie's mom know I moved - I began to feel guilty that I had taken this girl's place and was taking all the love and togetherness she was supposed to be having and flushing it away.

Of course, it's not really like that. I didn't take Valerie's life. I was perfectly willing to give it back, but she felt that Cynthia's suited her better. But I'll always feel like part of that was charity. I look at all the potential she had in her original life, which I'm doing jack-all with, and think, is there anything she could possibly be getting as Cynthia that was worth this arrangement?

That was the theme of a long, drunken, sobbing voicemail that I left her a few weeks before Christmas - I was at the end of my rope, wondering what the fuck is even going on in my life, and thinking about how it's not too late for us to switch back next year if she wants.

When she responded, she was, um... very understanding. She's had some thoughts of her own but somehow feels free of regrets. On the family question, her thinking is, yes, she misses them, and she tries not to feel bad that she will never see them again as herself, but she tries to look at it as if she decided to move to another country for work or something. As long as she can keep in touch with me, she'll never lose them.

From there, we organized a few meet-ups where she helped me do my Christmas shopping and prep me for the holidays. Last Christmas I was freshly jilted at the altar, so any weirdness in my behavior could be explained away. Now, I'm just... me. Me being Valerie. So I'm pretty well expected to give gifts and join in some holiday fun, and hey I've faked it before, as Lauren and Judith. I can do it, I just haven't been in a position where I'm setting up relationships with these people for the rest of my life. I wanted some guidance from her as to how to behave, and yet I know that part of me being Valerie permanently is, however I am, that's how "Val" is now, and everyone around me just has to get used to it. Still, knowing all the backstories helps: which topics to avoid, which relatives have drama with others, and of course being warned about the 15-year-old second-cousin who hasn't gotten the memo that you're not supposed to look at your relatives that way. 

"Cyn" is doing well, amazed at how her new life seems to fit her like a glove. Loves being around the kids, has freedom to do as she pleases... and even her "Man" and her have gotten pretty close.

"I mean, we haven't decided what the future holds just yet," she said, delicately choosing her words, "...But we discovered fairly quickly that we each seemed to be what the other was looking for. He's supportive and considerate and funny, and I've always seen myself as an "old soul" so the age difference - whatever it actually is - doesn't bug me. Plus, he's hot! A silver fox!" A man with the heart of a woman... isn't that what every gal wants?

She looked down at her ring - technically just a prop but obviously meaningful to her - "We've toyed with the idea of going all the way and having a kid of our own... is that weird?"

I said, in our world, nothing's weird anymore.

I did pretty well at the family visit, nodded along with the old memories, tried to come up with good excuses why I haven't been around much this year, and made promises (probably idle ones) to be more available in 2019. I tried my best to accept that this love was not for me, but that didn't mean it wasn't nice to receive. And to marvel a bit at the fact that I'm now the kind of person who appreciates a nice makeup kit as a Christmas Gift. (I don't wear a lot of makeup but I do enjoy mascara and eyeliner.)

There was one gift that really gave me pause, and it came from Valerie/Cynthia herself. At the end of our shopping and gabbing, she produced a small white envelope. I was a little dismayed because I hadn't thought to get her anything. She said not to worry about it, and asked me to open it in front of her.

Inside was a check.

I'm not going to tell you how much, but it was sizeable.

I raised an uncomfortable eyebrow. "Um... is this, like, payment for Cynthia's life? Because I really can't accept anything like that..."

"No, it's... well, it's a gift that I'd always wanted. Something I was never able to give myself. After Josh and I were, uh... settled, we had talked about getting me some... surgery."

"Surgery?"

She pointed at my chest and cleared her throat.

"It was just always in the back of my mind, but there was so much to consider, never a good time, and better uses for the money. And it would have had to be after we started our family. Well, now I have the money, and the family, but not the need, so I thought... this would be a good way to use my good fortune. Take the money. Don't use it for that if you don't want to, but know that it's on the table. The money is yours."

I was dumbstruck. I could hardly bring myself to accept it, but Cyn wouldn't take no for an answer. I'll admit the idea had occurred to me in moments of frustration, that it would be nice to reduce my size a little. Decrease my pains, maybe work out more as a result. Stop dipping my tits in every condiment on a table. I'd have to put myself through the stress of buying a new wardrobe. I don't know. It was a fantasy, and one I didn't indulge in much because I was only borrowing this body and now that I have the opportunity it feels wrong to do anything to reshape this body, even though it's mine. But I have the money and the suggestion that, if I don't want that, I can do as I please... just be aware this is a one time offer.(Believe me I would never dream of asking Val/Cyn for a handout. Not my style.)
Lots to think a out heading into this new year, that's for sure.

-Val/Ty

Tyler/Valerie: A honeymoon of my own

After parting ways with Josh after the wedding, I did the only thing that came to mind, the same thing I always do. I left.

He was leaving anyway for the Honeymoon, so you would think I could just hang out in the city by myself. It probably would have made the transition to single life easier, give me time to make arrangements. In fact, that was what Valerie insisted I had to do, feeding me scripts on who I needed to tell and what to say. But this was a situation where, for whatever reason, I needed to get in the driver's seat.

Maybe it's the last remnants of my male pride. Maybe a polecat doesn't change his stripes anyway.

So while Josh was bound for Hawaii I went on a trip of my own... to a place I didn't think I would actually go again.

I went back to friggin' Alabama.

I did it in the stupidest way possible, too, since I didn't give Carrie the head's up before I landed on her doorstep. I wasn't even sure if she'd recognize me. It was a cold, rainy day and all I had was the bag I had packed for Hawaii. Some good it was... reckon I probably wasn't gonna do much swimming there.

I showed up at her apartment, my hair a tangled, dripping mess, my cheeks blotted with rain and tears and smudged makeup, dragging my sad little wheelie bag behind me. I knocked on the door and it opened and for the first time ever, I was looking up at her.

She gave me a look of mixed surprise and confusion but she clicked almost immediately with what was going on, mouthing "Ty?" which I nodded to confirm. She reads the blog, so she did have a sense of my current physical appearance, so when a stranger matching that description showed up at her place randomly, well... she's the smartest Blake of the bunch, I always said.

"Sweetie!" she piped up loudly in away that alerted me she was not alone. "Come in, get dry! I can't believe you're here!" She wrapped me up in a big warm hug and it felt amazing for a moment.

A voice called from the kitchen. "Care, babe? Who's there?"

"Oh, it's just my friend--" she stumbled over the name until I whispered it. "Valerie! I haven't seen her in forever!"

Then he came out to get a look at me, and I saw him there.

Luke Anderson. Carrie's high school boyfriend, who I was not a fan of. I couldn't stop myself from immediately fixing Carrie with a bug-eyed glare of shock, and she responded with a look of mixed embarrassment and fear. I nearly blew my cover by asking what the hell he was doing here.

Luke, who has known Carrie since she was a kid, asked the reasonable question: "How do you two know each other?"

"Vacation!" I blurted out. "We met on vacation a few years ago."

He seemed satisfied, and Carrie excused us saying she had to speak with Val in the hallway.

Soon as the door was closed, I hissed, "What he hell!"

"Nope!" she stuck her finger up. "We'll get to that, but if you want something from me you just need to accept that this is happening and move on."

I closed my eyes tight, took a deep breath and held it in.

"Sorry, I'm a little frazzled and that was... shocking."

"Not as shocking as seeing you here I'll bet," she snickered.

"I just got on a plane and didn't even think... I'm so sorry. I can get a hotel."

"Uh-uh honey. I want you where I can see you."

"Carrie, I don't know what you think I'm gonna... okay, I know exactly what you think, but I've changed."

"Oh, I know you've changed," she said, eyeing me with a suggestive grin. I folded my arms under my chest as if to say, yeah, they're there and we all know it. "And Luke's changed too."

I didn't have anything to say to that, except to note, "Honey... that's a new one."

She shrugged. "It just came out... what can I say? You look like a honey now."

Before I could retort she asked if there was anything else I needed to say as Tyler, or if we could go back in the apartment. The hallway was freezing, so I told her I would explain everything in-character. If he asks any questions about backstory, leave them to me, I've gotten very skilled at that over the years.

"Now come along," she ushered me into the back room of the apartment. "There's somebody you'll want to meet." There lying in a crib was the baby she had given birth to over the summer.

"Tyler," she whispered, "Meet your nephew. Thomas."

I crooked an eyebrow. "You would name him after dad..."

"Think of it as being after Grandpa if it helps."

One of the great ironies of the screwed-up Blake family tree... My dad, Tom Blake Jr., had a similar relationship to his dad that I had to him. Grampy and I always got along well, but Carrie was too young when he died to have known him like I did.

She picked up the baby and passed him to me.

"Oh, I don't..."

"Ty, just... when are you going to be back here again?"

I took the little stinker.

"Hey buddy... I'm..." I said in a hushed voice, "I'm your uncle Ty." I got a little choked up as I said it.

There's a very real chance that I will never, ever be a man again, just based on luck of the draw, and, well, things I will explain later. More and more, since I was Judith, I'm learning to be "okay" using female pronouns and such, and just thinking of myself in those terms, on a potentially permanent basis. But I found myself really wanting to use the phrase "Uncle Ty" one time in my life, at least, just to pretend I'm my old self in that second... even as the kid instinctually nuzzles into my breast.

A gal's heart could melt.

I held him a while, trying not to think about how he would probably never know me, let alone know who I really am, as Luke peppered me with some of the expected questions - who are you again, what brings you here, how long will you be staying... stressful stuff that was not improving my opinion of him anyway. I could tell he wasn't that into having visitors, so I backpedaled with "Oh really, I don't want to impose, I can leave anytime..." but Carrie shut us both down on that front and insisted.

I guess I should explain the backstory between me and Luke. I disliked him from the second he came sniffing around Carrie, because he was a Junior and she was a Freshman. He was a football star and had a reputation around town as a player, so my warnings to her to be careful only made her want him more. I resisted voicing my disapproval because of one simple fact: He's black, and we're not that far removed from the time when that was reason enough for a white guy to want a guy to stay away from his sister. I probably just didn't like I'm because he was cocky and popular and all the things I hated in high school. I kept my mouth shut about it long as I could, never wanted anyone to think it was a race thing, because my dad had a rep for not exactly being progressive, so anything I could do to distance myself from his views, I wanted to. (Oddly enough he did like Luke... Because he was a popular football player.) But Luke always rubbed me the wrong way right from the start and even though I tried to give him a chance, I always heard rumors that he would pick up anything in a skirt.

She was deaf to my warnings, but hey, it's not like I was Mr. Credibility in those days.

Eventually, he got caught redhanded, got her forgiveness, then fucked up again, so she broke it off, but I could tell she never really closed the door there and she even let him string her along when he was with someone else. The guy was her kryptonite and I never liked that.

It took until the next day, when Carrie and I could get away for coffee that I explained what all had happened with the wedding and everything. She was sympathetic, but wondered if it was up to me to dissolve the marriage, if maybe Valerie preferred reconciliation. I pointed out that the "marriage" wasn't legit anyway, and that even if Valerie was sympathetic or still wanted him back, for the duration of my term as her, I would behave as I saw fit. I thought a few years on the merry-go-round ought to have bought me the right to determine that.

"So you may be sabotaging her chances, if she does want him back."

"He's got a kid on the way. You of all people should understand that situation. I know you say Luke's changed..."

She bit her lip. "Luke isn't Tom's father."

"Ah," I said. "That makes sense. That kid is so pale."

"We ran into each other at the Piggly Wiggly a while back and we... reconnected."

I raised an eyebrow. "And the father, the one you said was so stable and in the picture?"

"There isn't one. Tommy's father is a donor. I just didn't want you to worry because I knew you would."

I took a moment to digest this information. "Well, at least it's nice to be able to keep imagining my little sister has never been with a man."

She snickered, "Wish I could say the same about you!"

My face turned tomato red. "Just Kitty! Josh and I never even--"

"Okay, relax!" she said through eye-watering laughter. "Geez, your voice gets high when you're embarrassed."

I could hardly speak. She added, "But it's so amazing to, like... see 'you' in there sometimes. There's no way I would imagine the woman sitting in front of me is actually Tyler's Blake, and yet you did that thing you always did when you're thinking... you roll your eyes back into your head and pucker your lips and your jaw goes all... weird. Exactly the same as you always did. It's freaky."

I stayed long enough to have Thanksgiving dinner at my oldest brother's place... I hadn't meant to but Carrie insisted. It was so strange being an outsider there. I tried to minimize my presence, but being that the family unit doesn't get many outsiders, let alone northerners (my accent has faded to where Mobilians don't immediately recognize me as local.) So I politely fielded many personal questions and tried to make small talk with their wives, and not seem too interested in the whereabouts of the person in my body. It was actually a little weird and sad "Tyler" never came up but I probably prefer it that way.

I still hadn't warmed to Luke, but he was very domestic, helping to cook and prepare more than many boyfriends would. I did see him checking out my rack, but even if that bugs me, it wasn't any worse than the way average guys look at me. Hell, even my own brothers were sneaking peaks, which is a good reason to never, ever, ever come over again.

But if that was the worst of it, it seems pretty innocent to me. I decided Luke's eye really wasn't wandering.

On my last night there, I was up late reading, and Luke came in with the baby, who had woken up. He sighed modestly, "My turn."

I nodded in appreciation. "That's gotta suck."

He shrugged. "It's worth it. Look at this kid!"

"Yeah, he's cute. You're pretty happy, huh?"

"More than I've ever been," he said warmly. "I never even thought I wanted this. I was a bit of a player back in the day and I thought I always would be, but when I met this little guy it hit me... I needed that. I needed to grow up."

I smiled.

"Look at him," Luke beamed, "He's gonna be a stud. Quarterback material."

"You never know," I shrugged, "Maybe he'll be artistic. Quiet. Shy
 Maybe he'll prefer boys to girls. Maybe hell be a girl."

Luke looked up at me with this frozen, hundred-yard stare for a second and I saw the wheels turning.

"Whatever makes him happy. Long as I get to be part of it."

Hm.

I still have my doubts but... well, Carrie's a grown-up. She can handle her own. I should focus on myself...

More as soon as I can get around to telling it!
-Ty/Val

Simon/Joy: My Dads

I put off contacting Joy's family as long as I could. It was guaranteed to be an uncomfortable conversation where I'd be asked lots of questions I didn't have the answers to, and be treated like someone I am not. I haven't spent a lot of time with people who know Joy but not Simon... besides the occasional take-out delivery guy, airplane stranger or of course, Abe Fowler, I pretty much just talk to Treena and that's all. I may look like a woman but I really don't feel ready to think of myself as somebody's daughter.

I mulled it over. I seriously considered not calling. They haven't seen Joy in months and months, why not just ride it out? What would be the consequences? I could make it up to them later if I felt bad or if I needed something. Nobody stays mad at their own daughter, and only child, for long. And maybe by then I would have a better answer as to where I was for 9 months of "my" life.

But I took it like a man (so to speak) and reached out. I figure, this year is gonna be full of things I don't want to do, or have done to me, whether it's my body releasing menstrual fluids at inopportune times or people looking at me like a piece of meat, best to get used to sucking it up.

The good news is, the Kershaws live in Davenport, Iowa, so it wasn't like I had to go see them. All I had to do was spend an hour or so on video chat with them, let them know I was home safe and sound, catch up a little bit. I was ready with a few talking points, but I was very thrown from the moment I saw them. First of all, looking at Lizzie Kershaw was like looking in a mirror, you'd hardly know she was 20-some years older than my current body. She's a gorgeous blonde woman (with an admittedly more impressive rack than her daughter) who has kept her figure pretty well and has great skin, I could even tell through the somewhat pixely camera. She could hardly contain her excitement at setting eyes on her daughter for the first time, spending the first moments squealing in glee that I was "home" at last. Randolph Kershaw is a refined salt-and-pepper haired gentleman. I would have expected him to be a bit more restrained in his emotions but even he seemed to be bursting beneath the surface. Being able to invoke those feelings in someone was... a mixed experience. I was flattered and proud and a bit ashamed that all this was for someone who wasn't really there. But I wore it as best as I could.

Yes, I did have to field those awkward questions. My official answer as to my whereabouts is that, while out in Maine, Joy was offered an exciting business opportunity and decided to pursue it... I was back now because the contract ended. Why don't I have any more details to share? Thank God for my imaginary "non-disclosure agreement" from my imaginary contract.

Yes, they pushed hard for more details, but since I didn't actually have any I only felt somewhat bad about not sharing. I could tell it wasn't the most satisfying answer to where their daughter has been for all this time (and why she hasn't called or e-mailed for most of it) but... tough luck, I guess? I couldn't say that, but I had to get them off the topic quickly. But that left more than a half-hour of a 45-minute v-chat with me awkwardly probing them for stuff I should have theoretically known. Seriously, Treena could help me with a lot of details of Joy's "day to day" current life, but she knew next to nothing of Joy's background, beyond being from Iowa. I have a certain knack for extracting info from people without making them feel like I'm prying (remember, top salesman here!) but it's tough because I'm supposed to know if "dad" has been out of work or if I have a cousin who was pregnant last year. I muddled my way through, but brother was it awkward. But now I have my bearings so I know, for next time (they hoped I would start calling every week if possible!) what Randolph's job, what sports teams he follows, and what Lizzie and Joy like to gossip about.

I also felt very uncomfortable trying to act like "myself" because I don't really know who Joy is to these people. I find when I'm out in public I play up the possible vain airhead version of Joy just so that people will underestimate me, and of course around Treena I'm my usual intelligent (I hope!) self. I didn't want to do the cruel Joy parody version to her parents, but I didn't also want to let any knowledge or attitudes slip that would be an obvious tip that something had changed. I know, intellectually, they would never guess their little girl isn't home right now, but... well, the less questions about that, the better. I just laid it on as thick as I could to be the doting daughter. The perfect little girl.

One interesting factoid about the Kershaws: they're British! I must have jumped when they started speaking and out came these very refined (to my American ears) British accents, since Treena hadn't said that Joy had an accent. It turns out they moved to the U.S. in the late-80's, so Joy was born here... which is a relief, I guess since it means I could still be President (ha!). That gave me some additional material... the next time I call I'll have to chat them up about Brexit.

When I got off the chat, I was relieved it was over, as well as a bit pleased with the way I acquitted myself, and a bit sad thinking of my own dad. At that time he was likely sitting in his favorite spot watching the Cavs dominate the Warriors and finally win that NBA title LeBron promised... possibly while someone claiming to be sat by and pretended to be interested in Cleveland sports (it shouldn't be too hard... I mean, LeBron!)

I miss my dad, and I honestly hope I get to see him again. He's always been a good man who did anything he could to put food on the table for my family, and he was a great role model.

I've been introduced to the person who will be occupying my life, by the way. I am not ready to divulge all the personal details about them that I have, but I think we're in a good spot - some of my paranoia was, as it turns out, unfounded (but I don't think it was unnecessary.) Their professional experience makes them seem capable of picking up where I left off with Aldine, and it seems - at least from the outset - that they're sympathetic to my situation, being stuck in the body of a chick. So that makes me optimistic about where I'm going to be a year from now, but in my line of work you never count your chickens before they hatch.

And me I'm just sitting here, lounging by the pool - seems like every house in Southern California has one, which is great, so long as I can get comfortable in one of Joy's skimpy little bikinis - drawing up my plans for the next year (and ogling my own flat tummy and long smooth legs...) I'm already studying Real Estate for Dummies, learning the ins and outs of the market and the laws that govern it. Tedious, but not too hard to grasp if you have a mind for details like I do.

Treena seems to just be letting me be. If I didn't know better I'd say she was making a point to avoid me, but I gather that her schedule just has her working late nights and sleeping late into the afternoon. She has spoken a few words to me (about what she thinks I should do as Joy) and they don't seem to be intentionally hostile, so it's possible I'm just reading into things. Still, we have hardly bonded since our first few nights together and it makes me wonder just what I did wrong. Maybe I rubbed her the wrong way somehow, and if so I'd be interested in learning why and what I could do to make it up to her. I'm really not such a bad guy.

Well, there will be plenty of time to convince her.

Tyler: Families, and Thanksgiving, and stuff

I've kind of neglected Alan's life a little bit since being here, I'll admit. He has a family back in Wisconsin that loves him very much, and no doubt misses him. And I got a little absorbed re-fashioning his life into my own, that I couldn't help but leave them behind.

From the beginning, there were texts and calls, usually ones I dodged, even though I knew it wasn't fair to Alan or his family or anybody. But I had to distance myself. I felt like I'd spent a year suppressing everything about myself just to fit in and make others feel better, I needed something for me.

I warmed up a little bit, responding to texts and calls more quickly, but I still hardly know these people. I told them I had found work out here and decided to stay a while, which raised questions (Alan was not one to leave his family behind) that of course I dodged. I just wanted them to know their son is OK (he is) and to feel like they could reach me if they have to, but... jeez, they really test that. Every day I get some new update on some neighbor or distant cousin I don't know. But I try to be polite and answer back, "That's interesting" or "Good for them" or "What an asshole," as applicable (then I get chided for strong language.) I also dodge questions about Greta, saying only that we parted ways and I don't know what she's up to (mostly true.) Of course there were questions about how one could just part ways with the woman he probably was going to marry, but I chalked it up to "Personal differences." End of story.

Or so I thought. During a recent call, I had to explain again why I couldn't make it home for Thanksgiving. I let it slip a while ago that I had started a new relationship. And of course Mama Schmidt scoffed about how soon it was to be throwing family traditions away and if she loved me, she'd understand and let me come home. I told her I wasn't exactly being held against my will, and I was sure Thanksgiving would be fine without me.

So yeah, I agreed to go see Meg's family for Thanksgiving. While they didn't exactly "keep it small" (six aunts, five uncles, and 11 cousins were present) these people were all supposed to be strangers to me. Plus it was local, which was a huge bonus. Once Meg let it slip that I worked in a kitchen, her mom insisted I bring a side. Arguing that I mostly cook eggs didn't phase her, so I cooked up a recipe for whisky-infused green beans. Except I kept that first part a secret. They were a big hit.

It was a chaotic, exhausting, wonderful day. Meg is a lot like her mom – same sense of humour, same smile... but with more of a housewifey vibe. She warned me they might judge me because I didn't go to college, but they were very polite... to me. I do think her Mama is a bit judgmental toward her, though. I put my charm into overdrive to win over her dad – a friendly, intellectual guy with a big interest in history (seriously, the guy was loaded with facts about he first Thanksgiving, the Colonial era, and even a fair bit about pre-Columbian times.) Asked him lots of questions, didn't yammer on about myself.

"They really like you," Meg beamed afterward on the drive home. "My Mom is just happy I'm dating again, and Dad seems to think you're really smart."

"Don't know how he got that impression," I smirked, "Guess I'll have to keep him fooled."

Later that night, as we were getting ready for bed, she said something that struck me: "I wish I could meet your parents."

I'm sure she meant well by it, but it caused a real chill to go up my spine. I sat up and looked at her and I just said, maybe a bit coldly, "You don't have to say that."

She looked at me, "No, I mean it. I think it's a shame that I can't... like, share that part of your life. I'm really sorry about it."

"Don't worry. It's gone," I said. "They're gone. It's..." I trailed off, suddenly getting very emotional.

Sensing she had touched a nerve, she wrapped her arms around me. I felt my face get hot. I wondered if I was going to start crying. I took a breath and told her "Even if... even if I was me, even if everything was normal... trust me, it would be okay if you never met my Dad."

"Was he... that bad?"

"Yeah," I said, "We're, uh... not close."

"You never talk much about home. About Mobile, your family, your childhood. Is that why you didn't mind not getting your real body back?"

"It's just complicated."

She took a moment to swallow this. For a second it looked like she was hurt that I wouldn't open up. Then she said, "Whatever you're running from... and you don't have to explain it to me if you don't want to, I'm sure if you're ever ready you will... it's in the past. I didn't mean to remind you of it. But you're here now, with me."

"I know," I said. "Believe me. I know."

Tori: Under one roof

Since Buddy's job ended last week, he's been staying with me in Philly while we start moving my stuff over to my new place at Raine's. Sara's nearly moved out, so I can go over there anytime I want... I'm just having a hard time saying goodbye to the family.

I'm hoping having Buddy around will give me that motivation, because it's a little awkward knowing that dad will go down to the kitchen in the morning and see the guy who is banging his daughter sitting at the kitchen table. I mean, he's a cool guy and he takes it in stride, but I guess I imagine it's a front, like he'd rather not see that. I know I'd rather he didn't.

Really, it's been a remarkable step for our relationship. Before this, it was mainly about trying to keep the lines of communication open between sex. Now we're actually have to be together and do stuff. I mean, it's a lot of work. I'm used to having a lot of space and nothing to do, and now... it seems like we've always got to be doing something together.

I've been in relationships before. I never had sex as a guy, but I very nearly married my long-term girlfriend, so I know what it's like. I've just gotten so used to having nobody around that it's hard to update my routine. After the first few nights, we even started going to bed without having sex. I didn't know what to do. He wasn't even hard.

Now that I'm not working at the telemarketer, I was worried it would just be us sitting around the house all day bored, and then we'd eventually realize we didn't have much in common (totally not true) but I did get a new job. Thankfully it wasn't as hard as last time, because in the time since I've worked there I've managed to get enough new contacts and references that speak to me as a person (not just a hairdresser, as Tori was) that I got a job at one of the first places where I applied. This was especially weird since it was just past the holidays, so I wouldn't have thought it would be available.

It's nothing much, just a little clothing shop, a little boutique that opened up. I guess I got a bit of a feel for it since shopping with Raine. I've only worked like 20 hours per week since I started, but the girls there are really nice. The main catch is that they prefer we wear the stuff we sell, so I can't go to work in jeans and a t-shirt anymore (not that I thought I would be.) The clothes themselves aren't that remarkable, although I do look good in them.

Of course, this became a thing with Buddy, who's always tried to get me to dress sexier for him. I told him, here I thought I was sexy no matter what, and he says yes, but he'd rather I look the part. I just rolled my eyes instead of starting another fight over it. I think it bothers him when I make decisions that aren't based around him. That could be a problem later.

Sigh, this whole Houston thing. I don't know if I'm going to want to go, but I don't feel like ending it with him. And I really don't know if I trust myself going back to being single. Last time I was single, I was dead-set against going home with anybody, now I don't know that my judgment will be so intact. That's not a very good reason for keeping a relationship. And I really do like him. Maybe I love him, definitely when he's not being an asshead about my hair or my outfits or my job or my life. But do I "Houston-love" him? I'm getting ahead of myself. I won't even be done "school" until April. He knows I'll be here until at least then. I just need to keep the relationship afloat until that.

The family seems to like him. He says all the right things to mom and dad, he even won Mae over, so she doesn't judge me for dating him. Although if she nudges me and says "You should let him get you pregnant soon" again, I'm gonna smack her.

We're in a good place, I just need to be ready for it all to change.

Tori C: Impulsive behavior

I've been an emotional mess lately. Things aren't even that bad, but I've felt so stressed out by life now that I'm trying to make things happen with it, it makes me just want to hide in my room curled up in a little ball.

I've been packing up my stuff for when I move in with Raine on February 1, into Sara's old room. It's a bit far in advance, but it's important for me to go through all this junk, both inherited from Tori and accumulated by me -- and decide what I want to bring along because I won't have a ton of room to myself. Compared to the last time I had a major life-altering move, I think it's reasonable to want some control.

Sara and Thom will be getting a one-room apartment elsewhere. It's weird how couplehood has pushed them to the edge of our friendship circle. Danny and I hang out way more than I do with Sara, and Raine has her way of keeping guys at arm's length. And me, my boyfriend is over in the next state, for now at least, and the situation's not looking any better.

I'm not especially looking forward to leaving the family behind. I mean, I'll still come over all the time, but I know it's going to change. It's like going off to college all over again, except this time the family has been demonstrably more interested in keeping me around. With all due respect to my "real" family, the Cliffords, they were never as good to me as the Pearces have been. And that's really sad to me. How much I love these people.

Speaking of love... here's the real core of my stress. Last weekend, I was lying in bed with Buddy. I had my lips around his dick -- I'm trying to decide whether I like doing that or if I'm just giving him what I think he wants. And he's running his fingers through my hair and moaning with pleasure, and he says, "Mmm, yeah... I love that."

It made me pause. I guess on its own, it's a meaningless statement, but that word has been working its way out of his lips more and more often. I make a joke about Ewoks, and he says, "I love that you say stuff like that." He sees me in a low-cut black dress and says, "I love you in that." I get out of the shower and he says, "I love your hair when it's wet." It's starting to really get to me, like he's working he way up to saying the three little words. Every time it comes up, he seems to get closer. Later that night, he had his arms around me and we were falling asleep, and he whispers, "I love spending time with you."

I mean, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. We've been together a while now. We have a lot of fun together, he seems to get me. I just never considered the possibility that it was really love and not just... dating. Screwing around. God help me when he actually says it. I don't know how I feel. I never honestly expect to get that close to a human being, not like this.

So I was thinking about all this and stressing out and taking inventory of my stuff when I made a decision, a harmless little decision to cut my hair. Like, all of it. I mean, I didn't shave my head, but I'm definitely rocking the pixie look now.

I had only been to a hair salon a few times since being Tori. My hair has definitely suffered neglect. I just get really uncomfortable with all the ritual of the salon scene, versus the male ability to get in a chair and get out with shorter hair. What's more, even though the long hair has always been a hassle to me, I was so dead-set against altering anything I'd gotten along with being Tori that it had to stay even after I learned I'd be her for a good long while.

So I finally womanned-up and set foot in the salon with a photo of Audrey Hepburn -- as cliche as it is -- and the hairdresser just smiled and said "I'll take care of you, hun."

Like an hour later, my hair was nice and short. No more ponytails or blowing in the breeze, no more waiting hours for it to dry, no more long hairs down the drain or waking up with it all over my face.

The family was taken by surprise, it wasn't like "me," since "I'd" always held my hair with such importance. "It's just something new," I said. Mom thought it looked nice. Dad rolled his eyes. Mae said she was jealous, and boys were going to think I was smart now. Thanks, Mae.

Then I decided to brave snowpocalypse again to go to New York. As nervous as I was about Buddy being in love with me, I was especially interested in his reaction.

It was... not great. Really surprising, actually.

I'd give you the details, but the fight is technically still happening. He went out for a walk in the snow just to cool down. Considering the temperature, it ought to work. I'm thinking about staying with Ken and Jana tonight. Sigh.

I'll get back to you.

Cliff/Tori: If they only knew...

I've been spending the last couple of weeks getting over the shock of knowing I'll be this way for a while longer, while the word "forever" echoes in my head.

Nothing's changed. Being a girl isn't any worse or better for me than it was before. I don't feel depressed, I don't feel relieved, I'm just... going on. Is this good? I don't know. But it is what it is.

But I got a good boost of reassurance on Sunday, which was Father's day. I don't spend a ton of time with the family... keeping myself a bit independent while under their roof has helped keep me sane. I get up after my parents have gone to work, I get home when they're going off to bed, mostly because I hang out after work with the girls/guys. On the weekends I usually do my own thing, with the occasional exception.

Father's Day was a big deal to me, though, because even if they don't know who I really am, I wanted to prove how important they've become to me, both parents. So I made special arrangements to show off my cooking skills, which was the one thing my real dad and I really had in common. So I did a whole steak dinner for the family, and put Mae in charge of the side dishes (which didn't go so well in the end, but good for her for trying.)

It felt good, just to hang out in our backyard, the four of us, later joined by Ken and his fiancee, who was quick to point out how surprising it was that I was suddenly such an avid chef. We sat around after dinner and everyone told stories, although I was still silent... most of what I know about Tori's life is from her diaries, so there's not a lot of material that's worth sharing. Still, it was great to hear these sweet candid moments of family togetherness.

It wasn't until the next morning that I really started thinking about my own dad. I got up that morning and couldn't get the guy out of my head, and suddenly I was filled with this deep, intense shame. What would he think, if he knew the truth about his youngest son? That instead of getting his life together and moving to England for his career, he was living as a girl in Philadelphia? That at that moment on Monday morning, he was slipping on a pair of panties and clasping a bra... brushing his long dark hair, putting on a pair of tight shorts and a top that revealed his cleavage, his middrift... that his son was now somebody's daughter, and didn't mind it so much?

I don't think he'd understand that I didn't want this, but that I don't hate it either. Maybe he'd think less of me for giving in, for enjoying it at all, but I don't care anymore. I'm through with that attitude. It's something I could never explain to him, but finally, I like where I am.

Cliff/Tori: Support

I haven't been on in a few weeks, barely even checked the blog (I mainly do when Alia tells me he posted) because I'd been, as weird as this sounds, enjoying life.

I know, I feel extremely guilty about writing that right now, but at the time, it was the truth. The weather got very gorgeous very quickly and unlike last summer I was not feeling self-conscious about my body. I've long since (well, depending on your count) accepted that for the time being, I look like this, I wear these clothes, I should make myself comfortable. So if I need to shave my legs and underarms so I can show some bare leg and shoulder, so be it. I was feeling good about feeling good. On the home stretch of my return to the Inn, time started to fly.

I don't know. It was just a good time to be Cliff being Tori. As miserable as the work days sometimes are, I got through them, then hung out with "the gang" at Raine and Sara's place, or the bar, or wherever. I didn't even feel bad about taking the night for myself occasionally, just to come home and relax, because I've been more social in the last few months than I've been in years.

Then I logged onto the blog late on April 1 or I guess the 2nd by then, and there was Greg's post. And it just hit my like a ton of bricks. All the carefree attitude I had the last few weeks just disintegrated in the harsh reality of it.

Suddenly all the fun I'd been having didn't seem so fun. The clothes, the hair, the boobs, and everything else that came with it, felt very bitter to me.

Greg, I'm so sorry about what's happening with you. Seriously. I don't even know what I would do if I found myself in your situation (crawl into a hole and die maybe.) Suddenly all the paranoia about not getting my body back has hit me again. The first thing I did after I read that post was e-mail Willy to make sure we were still cool. The fact that he took several days to get back to me (two days but it felt like a week) did not ease my mind.

He assured me that yes, everything was still going to plan, and that if I was really uncertain about it I should come up to Buffalo and check in on him for Easter. As much as that would set things straight for me, I still couldn't go through with it. I still carry a sneaking suspicion that he might want to try picking up where we left off, getting a few bonus miles out of our bodies before we go back. And my own suspicions that I may not be strong enough to resist the urge to try, because I already know how I'd rationalize it (oh, it's my body, he knows who I really am, it's not like he loves Tori or anything.) Best to avoid the problem altogether.

Not to mention, separating myself from the Pearces has become very difficult lately -- it's not like those first few months where I just stayed out of their way. "Mom" and I cook together and we all have movie nights and other weirdly home-sweet-home stuff. We're not the Brady Bunch but this isn't Married with Children either.

But finally, I just wasn't in the mood for anything this weekend. The entire time, the knowledge that one of us isn't making it back to the Inn -- I don't know Greg except through the blog, but I do know we're going through the same thing (except he's lost his fiancee to boot, which makes it way worse than anything that could happen to me) and I do feel a connection there. It's like that thing someone was telling Todd about the mushrooms. We're all part of a big secret family.

It all just weighed on my shoulders the entire weekend. So I just kinda sat, catatonic, while being welcomed to Tori's uncle's place (the same place we spent Christmas) by a parade of relatives whose names and backstories I have a hard time keeping straight. "Oh there's uncle whatsisface who brew his own wine, and Aunt whoosits and her three kids." Even more confusingly, both Dad's and Mom's side came by for the dinner, which was crazy, but I guess I didn't realize that the two halves of the family could be close. Repeatedly, I had to have embarrassing conversations where I attempted to account for the state of Tori's life. No, haven't really decided what career I want, still not dating anyone, blah blah. These things that hopefully will not be my problems in a few months..... yet by constantly having to address them it reminded me of what it would be like if they were. Which means really, they might as well be. And all the while, everyone's sort of disguising their disappointment with my apparent lack of direction, and I don't have any human connection whatsoever.

And then Ken shows up.

God bless Ken. Tori's older brother has been extremely cool the few times I've met him, and from our increasingly amusing conversations on MSN/Facebook. They have a very strong relationship and thankfully that has transplanted over to me. I just like the dude. He's like the brother I never had -- which is ironic in a way because I do have a brother, I just don't get along with him as well as I'd like.

Mae even brought Ed along, although they disappeared early and only returned for dinner... so...... yeah.

Anyway, Ken was there with his fiancee Jana. He proposed on New Year's, and she's been in crazy wedding-planning mode for a few months. They're planning a fall wedding. Most of the family loves her, although I think she's a little boring. Pretty, though, in a classic beauty kind of way. But if you saw me say that out loud, it would seem kind of bitchy, because I've heard myself-as-Tori described in similar ways (more like "pretty but weird.")

Ken made the rounds, and let Jana bond with the other women, and found me to try to bring me out of my gloom. He was a great guy for trying but at that point I was feeling really low. He asked me about it and I was evasive.

"It's just... life stuff. I mean, I'm doing okay for now, but I'm not sure where I go from here." It was totally in-character stuff, covering for my real problems with the believable fakes.

Ken admitted that telemarketing really didn't sound like a good long-term plan, but if it wasn't killing me, it was good enough to keep at until I figure out something better. I told him that wasn't very good advice, and he grinned and shrugged, "What do you want to hear from me? I have the worst job, but I'm happy enough that I don't care." He works in banks or something nonspecific like that.

I was puzzled. "If you hate your job so much, why do you consider yourself happy?"

"I'm getting married soon, Vic." Only Ken and Mae call me Vic. I kinda like it (because if you squint your ears it sounds like Cliff.) "I'm in love with an amazing woman, I don't mean to rub it in or anything, but I couldn't care less about job satisfaction right now."

This did not help. On top of everything else, part of the reason I was supposedly miserable is that I'm single? I didn't want to admit it, but even when I was doing IT, which I liked (despite not being passionate about it, I felt needed and was good at it, so I generally liked it) I knew that yeah, loneliness was a problem. But I had just started being happy being my version of Tori. Why'd he have to rub it in? I just gritted my teeth.

"I don't know," he added, "Maybe it's not a relationship. Maybe it is the job. Maybe it's everything."

"Yeah, it's everything." I sighed, forcing a laugh.

"Maybe it's because you live at--" he stopped himself.

There was a pause before I finished the thought "At home? Yeah. That probably doesn't help."

Look, it's not my place to start rearranging Tori's whole life, especially not now, and as much as I've come to like the Pearces, I can't deny that if I had my choice, I'd be out on my own. But again, it's all the "I'm not myself, this is not my life" stress. I just couldn't express any of that.

So we changed the subject.

"So, I was talking to Jana," he said, "And she kind of liked the idea that you and Mae would be her bridesmaids." That was a bit startling. Thinking back, it was maybe a bit rude to just be stone cold about it, like "Yeah, that'll be fun," showing no enthusiasm. I know I'm not planning on being around for it, but at this time I was practically convinced that I was, and it all just... ugh, it's all too much.

Ken seemed disappointed that this didn't cheer me up (it totally would've been Tori's thing) and that really drove home how much of a mood I was in. Ken and Jana were stayign at our place, and that night, we rented Zombieland... they were cuddled on the couch to one side, I was on the other, and I have to admit, seeing them be so close was really a bummer. Ken wasn't totally wrong, but he couldn't know that he was the one I was really jealous of.

It all just comes back to wanting to be a man holding a girl like that.

So I just thought I'd get that off my chest. Sorry to be so self-obsessed at a time when Greg has some real problems, though. I feel kind of useless because I just have no idea how I'd handle a situation like that. I hope you get it sorted out.

The rest of us just have to keep living the way we are.

Cliff/Tori: Behind closed doors

Most days, I think to myself, "I should post on the blog more" but I can never think of what to write down.

I mean, it used to be so strange to be here. I had all these little experiences about being a woman and about living with Tori's family and I'd save them up, and the ones I didn't write about it was because they were either too personal or they were too boring. About the tenth post I drafted up about how uncomfortable I was sleeping (because it hadn't occurred to me that I shouldn't sleep on my breasts) I began to feel self-conscious about repetition. So if you feel like you're missing any of the story, maybe you are, but I think I'm saying everything that's vital.

I mean, what is my life right now? You can figure it out. I'm still a guy in a girl's body, except that has become so much less shocking over the last 6 or 7 months. I still have my problems, still get taken off-guard sometimes by my hormones depending on the time of month, but it's mainly gotten fairly routine. Sometimes my friends... Tori's friends, but I call them my friends because they are my friends... think I'm lame for not going out with them, but this last month has really given me cause to rein in the social tendencies. I do go out from time to time, I go shopping, I go to bars, but I'm not having any shocking adventures. I almost wish I was, just to talk about it.

But I'm still sane, I'm still me. I've survived this long. In four months time, I will be in Maine, waiting to get my body back.

It feels like so long, but it's so close I can feel it, and that excites me more than anything else.

But there's a bittersweet part to it. I feel really welcome in this family. It's strange: I got the sense from Tori's journals that her family was often talking down to her or or generally negative, but... well, they've been super nice to me. I hate the idea that they like me as Tori better than her, but it shows that if she'd meet them halfway, they'd really appreciate it. For a few months I felt, and acted, like a guest, but they welcomed me in and I really do feel like they're my family.

I considered going up to Buffalo for my (real) birthday, but it coincides with the Easter weekend, and Tori's brother has threatened to disown me if I miss the Eastern gathering at the Pearce house, and since I think he's such a nice guy I've agreed. Plus, being out of my body for so long, it would be weird to go back early, again, as Tori.

Part of me suspects an ulterior motive for Willie even asking me to come up then. We've hardly spoken since we made arrangements for the Inn, partially a conscious decision on my part due to the effect he had on me the last time I was there, which led to me having a long, still-unresolved identity crisis thing. I almost wish he and I had gone all the way, because then I would know something. At best, I've got whatever gets me going when I play with myself. It's not guys, and it's not girls, it's just myself. The only thing that really turns me on is the idea of being alone with myself. But then thoughts of my own male face looking down at me, smiling, taking me by the hand... I can't deny I get a bit of a shiver when I think back on it, and I still have no idea what that means.

I'm worried, in short, that Willie would want to take advantage of that, and though I think he's a very nice person, I'm taking Alia's advice not to complicate things. Not now.

Like I said, I've gotten so attached to Tori's family that I feel like they deserve my presence if they want it. That goes for her parents, and even Mae. Oh, man, Mae, I feel so bad for her. Tori is still not a big fan of hers, even though she's been a very good sister to me. I feel like we've sort of matured together, and it will be a shame to let go of that. But that's the future. Let me tell you about the present.

I came home the other night from work and went up the stairs, to just kick back in my room for a while, when I came across Mae crouched down next to "mom & dad's" room. I asked "What's going on?" and with a weird, serious look on her face, she mouths the words "Mom and dad are fighting."

I feel my stomach sink. Mr. and Mrs. Pearce have been like my own parents, and they seem to be very close. I always see them joking around,quite lovey-dovey, they have a weekly date night. I haven't seen them fight at all since I got here. So, feeling some concern, I crouched down and put my ear to the door.

I listened for some yelling or some arguing, or something, but all I could hear were muffled sounds of... I wasn't entirely sure. And then it dawned on me. And Mae, seeing the look of my face, got a grin on her face three miles wide. Mom and dad weren't fighting, they were fucking! The increasingly-loud female moans inside confirmed this.

Embarrassed, I rushed off to my room. Mae gave chase, following me to my room and shutting the door behind her, laughing her ass off as soon as it was shut. for my part, I could hardly breathe I was laughing so hard. I don't know why it was funny, it just was.

"Your face!" she wheezed, "Your fucking face was so--!"

"That was not cool! Why were you listening to that?"

She explained, since her room shares a wall with theirs, she hears them anytime they do it, and she felt like I deserved the privilege as well. My face was red with shock and embarrassment. I buried my face in my pillow. Mae joined me on the bed, lying widthwise, we just sat there trying to get over it until she observed, "Jeez, Vic, what's up with your room?" (I should point out that although all Tori's friends call her Tori, her family switches between Tori and Vic/Vicki/Victoria. Mae uses Vic most often, because I think Tori has said she doesn't like it.)

I don't have many visitors. At present time, my room is a schizophrenic cross between a girl who has just moved in (boxes everywhere) and a girl who can't clean up after herself (clothes everywhere.) "I'm just... busy, I guess. It doesn't bother me."

"Jeez, no wonder you're not getting any action. Guys can't get hard for a slob like you."

"Hey," I pointed out, "When a guy gets a shot at someone like this," I gestured at my body, "the last thing he's looking at are the bras on the floor." The observation felt a little sleazy as I said it, but I have to admit it's true.

She snorted, somewhat-lovingly, "You're so full of yourself, Tori. I used to hate that about you. You're still pretty hard to live with sometimes. I mean, shit, you know what I mean? I love you and everything, but sometimes you walk around like you haven't got a clue what's going on around here."

"It's been a confusing year for me," I say, trying to reach some semblance of honesty.

"I can be a bitch sometimes, I know," she admitted. Then she looked at me, expecting em to admit the same.

"I do my best, Mae." I got a little tripped up, "You're my little sister. It hasn't always been easy, but... you know? We get along now, right?"

"Yeah," she smiled. Then she spotted a top on the floor. "Is that mine?"

"Huh? Oh, no, that's mine." It was just a plaid top I picked up back in October when I was staying with Tori and Rob in Louisville.

"Oh yeah, I forgot you dress like that sometimes..." it was definitely more "her" style, but I don't really conform to any particular style. Some days I indulge in Tori's frilly clothes, some days I like the basic workshirt-looking ones. That's the amazing thing about women's clothes. She unbunched it, "You mind if I...?"

"Sure, go ahead," I shrugged.

Then, sitting right there, she took her top off, and I should note she was not wearing a bra. I mean, it's not like she flashed me - she did twist her body away modestly, but I did see everything.

It was weird how comfortable she was doing that. I watched her button up the shirt.

Mae is a bit smaller than me, has rounder hips and about the same size of a chest. There would be a stronger family resemblance if we had the same hairstyle, but I have kept Tori's long hair because I'm not interested in making that kind of change. Also she sometimes wears reading glasses, plastic-framed emo-type glasses.

She smoothed out the chest. Only the middle buttons were done up. She cupped the underside of her breasts, I guess to simulate a bra. I watched this, expecting to be caught leering.

I want to clarify... I'm not lusting after her or anything. She's young, and she's my sister. But after all these months I'm still curious about how women feel about their bodies, and Mae caught me off guard with her comfort. Maybe it's a sisterly thing, maybe it's particular to her.

She did catch the look on my face eventually, and asked what was up with it. I said, "How would you feel if I took off my top right now?"

She shrugged, "Well, I wouldn't stare. I'd probably be a little jealous. I don't know. Wouldn't weird me out. You're the one who goes skinny dipping with those friends of yours, hot tubbing and shit. Is it weird 'cause I'm your sister?"

"A little bit."

Irritated, she unbuttoned the top again, letting her breasts hang. I tried not to stare. She looked me in the eye, I was very confused. She began to laugh, "Oh my God, you are totally freaked out right now!" she looked down at herself then back at me. "Shit, Tori, they're just breasts!"

"Yeah, but--" I stammered, "They're your breasts!"

Still laughing, she slipped the top back on, but instead of buttoning it, clutched the two sides with her hand and lay back on the bed. "You're so weird."

Then after a silence, she sighed, "I think me and Ed are gonna end soon."

"Oh yeah?"

"It was probably a mistake to have sex with him. We were going so well before that, and then we did it... I mean, I like sex, a lot more than I thought I would, but Ed won't stop asking about it. It's so annoying. He didn't used to be this way."

"Boys," I sighed, lying back, "I wish I could tell you it gets easier, but it's just..." I stopped. I really had no clue what to say. Somewhere inside of me is a boy who is still glad he can see a pair of tits whenever he wants, feel a pussy, even if they're his. I shouldn't put myself down. I corrected myself, "Even if they really are all like that, the good ones can hide it."

She sat up and said, "Mom and dad are probably done now, I'm gonna go back to my room."

She walked off in my shirt. "Don't be a stranger..." I called out. Not looking back, she gave me a thumbs up.

Cliff/Tori: At home

I'm aware of how sad it is that I'm here on a Saturday night writing this. Hell, if I'd wanted to spend my Saturday night (the night before Valentine's) sitting in front of a TV screen or a computer monitor, I could've kept my penis.

I mean, sure I could get out (Snowmageddon notwithstanding) but where would that get me? there's no such thing as an innocent night out when you look like this. I even went bowling a couple weeks ago with Sara, Raine and Cyndi -- girls night out -- and we still got male attention. And hell, part of me likes it. A lot of these guys are the guys I would feel like I was in competition with a year ago, guys who under normal circumstances would have an easy time with a girl like Tori but have no idea what to with me. And in a weird, perverse way, I get some satisfaction out of that. It's horrible, it's manipulative, I know, but if they could see it from my side, if they knew who they were talking to, I think they'd understand. But there's nothing I can say to them.

But it's about keeping a balance. I would be miserable in my past life (I wanted to say my "real" life, but let's face it, for now, this really is my real life) spending a night like this, but I'm comfortable here. The bra is off, the comfy hoodie is on, so are the fuzzy socks and the pj bottoms. I am in for the night. Which makes me the only Pearce to do so, as the parents are out on date night, and Mae is off with her boyfriend. Seems like an ideal moment to go on a date with myself, but I'm saving that for later.

The mind boggles. From a guy, you wouldn't wanna hear about that stuff. Alia knows what I mean. Nothing fancy about a guy jerking off, but a girl, it's very romantic. It feels romantic.

Sad but true: I'm only a few drinks and one bad decision away from being one of those girls who guys pay to see fondle themselves on webcams. Except I think those girls talk dirty to the guys too, and I wouldn't know what to say. If I could pretend like nobody was watching, I might be able to go through with it, but in reality I am way too self-conscious.

Tori writes about doing it. She started seeing this boy in 11th grade, and started doing it on a whim because something about him made her want to (to put it vaguely.) And about two months into their relationship she gave him her virginity, and then it took a long while for him to live up to the expectation she had created for herself.

The thing that really struck me about Tori's writing occurs sometime after that, when it was over between her and this boy. before the end of that school year, her friend Danny, the boy she'd carried a torch for pretty much the whole time, even when she was dating other people, came out to her as gay. And she pours her heart out to the diary about how brave he was for doing that and how proud she was, but also surprised, and she admits with a significant amount of shame that this doesn't change her feelings toward him.

And then he flat-out disappears from the diary.

She doesn't write anything new about him, not to the point I've read. He just drops out of her life. No references. Then she starts hanging out more with Sara and Raine (Sara, practically a stranger, Raine, a somewhat annoying acquaintance until then.) More talk about fashion and style than before, less introspection.

It's like she cut herself off from her feelings. Maybe she couldn't live with her feelings for Danny knowing they could never be together. Maybe she just toughened her shell, became more of a well, a cliche.

Well, I can only speculate. I am curious enough to want to ask but I know it must be a sensitive subject. We all are entitled to our secrets and if this is something she kept from her diary maybe it's not meant for me to know anyway. I feel like, at this point, I've gotten to know this girl whose body I've been living in all these months.

My God, how long it's been.

It will always be etched into my memory, the sudden realization one morning that everything about me had changed, as my t-shirt was loose against my suddenly flabby, swollen chest and my slim shoulders... the feeling of my long hair against my face... the curious lack of testicles hanging off my groin. I'm not that person anymore, none of that is shocking to me anymore, but for so long, I couldn't pull up a pair of panties or zip up a pair of tight jeans without feeling somewhere in the back of my head that I was going to snag something, that I was bundling myself up too tight down there, even though I knew perfectly well there was nothing to worry about bundling.

Oh, I remember it all, and I wish I'd had the presence of mind to write it all down on this blog (I did make a few notes privately by hand, but looking over them they are largely under-detailed.) I remember when I first looked at myself in the mirror naked I utterly wanted to cry. No, this can't be happening, the mirror is wrong. but look down, look through your own cleavage and you will get an unobstructed view of the floor between your feet. Now that's just then daily view for me. I'm totally bemused by the entire setup. "Oh, yeah, looking good today, boobs. Might give the pubes a trim later."

Comfort. At first I felt utterly oppressed by the bra. How could I not? Panties are one thing. You barely notice there's anything different between a standard-cut panty and a men's brief, since there's nothing to really gauge the difference by. But the bra, that was just so... I mean, I resented having these two bags of flesh hanging off my body to start with, the last thing I wanted was to make them look all perky and appealing, and strain my shoulders with straps. And then one day I got out of the shower, and I thought to myself, "God, these things are just hanging there." So life has a funny way of making you change your viewpoint, especially after your body's changed.

All these things I remember from the first few weeks like they were a whole other lifetime. It's been a growing process, but it's like I changed twice, once in my body, once in my mind.

I had to get really comfortable with my body before I could do what I did on January 1st. It goes beyond dressing nice and doing one's hair. I had actually tried to start it during one of those hectic "Oh God what is going on" days back in summer. It was a typically male "Might as well try this" moment, since it had been such a huge part of my life as a guy, but it was almost too good, it freaked me out after just a little touch because I really did not want to enjoy myself. So even as I grew more and more comfortable with my body, it wasn't until Thanksgiving that the idea even re-occurred to me as something I would actually want to try, and then over six weeks later before I actually tried it because, well, sometimes you just need to wait for the right time. You need to feel at home.

And now I do feel at home. Because as weird as all that body stuff was, that was private: the really tough part was feeling safe and secure in this house. For so long, I felt like the stranger in the house, the liar, the fake. Like they were looking at me, sizing me up, compiling mental evidence that I was their fake daughter. I wanted to get out and stay out as much as I could, hence my drinking nights with the girls (and their boys.) But now that time has passed and I know when I'm getting my body back (knock on wood) I feel comfortable just relaxing and being... myself. I like Mr. and Mrs. Pearce a lot, and Mae and I have really grown close. She's the little sister I never had.

What bothers me is the obvious fact that it's not me they care for, it's the person they think I am. At the end of the day, I don't see myself as that girl. I'm just a girl who looks like her. I'm both at home, and not at home. But I'm trying to make the best of it.

I don't know what the future holds. I don't know if life can keep going like this until July, but I have my routine, and I like it. I'm comfortable here, which is so weird to say, but I think you know what I'm getting at. It's not like an earthquake destroyed my house: I have food and clothes and something to do with my time. My life could be a lot worse right now.

One last thing I want to say before I leave is that I think maybe Alia gave the wrong impression of the conversation we had about hypothetically having sex. It's not like I went over there with the intention of seducing him. But I'm a girl and he's a guy, and whether I have sex with a guy while I'm in this body is my decision, because I definitely know that if I wanted it, I could. I've entertained the notion of having sex with a male partner; I've also entertained the notion of having sex with a female partner, but I don't have much in the way of options there. I think Alia and I agreed that it would mess things up for Rob and Tori if we were to do it with each other, but that wouldn't stop it from messing things up for ourselves, which I kind of get. I feel like I could handle it, if it was him and me. Five months is a long time to be left to my own devices. I feel like that would just take the pressure off (as well as get everyone off my back about finding someone.) But he trusts that I am a strong enough person that I don't need that... and hopefully he's right.

And if he thinks I think about sex a lot... he should meet Raine. Or Sara. Or 18-year-old Tori for that matter.

Cliff/Tori: Appearances

I've spent a lot of this weekend holed up in my room reading Tori's old diaries, among other things. I've kind of been hiding from Tori's mom, of all people, because we had a bit of a fight.

I obviously don't think of her as my mom, even though I have to act like she is. She's very different from my mom. Mrs. Pearce is quite up-front about her feelings whereas my mom is kind of a passive-aggressive type... maybe it's not fair to say that about my mom to a bunch of people who don't know her, but if she doesn't like something she'll never confront it, just pick away at it and repress her feelings rather than make a scene. Sometimes I'm like that. It probably has to do with why it took me so long to terms with my current womanhood, (as much as I have.)

Mrs. Pearce is always talking about what she likes and what she doesn't like, in a very non-judgmental way. I actually kind of like her better than my mom, in that way. Mom never admitted it, but I could tell she saw the paths my brother's life and my life took, and picked which one she was proud of (he's an athlete and soldier, I was an asthmatic computer nerd. Not a hard choice.)

Anyway. Tori's mom and I generally get along and I do my best not to ruffle feathers with any of them. I look at it like being in a new workplace - as an outsider of sorts, I have to do my best to get along with these people, no matter their expectations of me. I have tried to be a very minor irritant during my time here, which is probably not how most people act around their families. Most people are not afraid of irritating their families at all.

So to the extent Mrs. Pearce and I have been in each others' lives, we've gotten along well, and she seems to really like her older daughter despite the fact that she left her job as a stylist and moved back home before having her body taken over by a man. I asked her if it bothered her that I had moved back in, and she said no, as long as I was working, but very matter-of-factly said, "It had better not be permanent, dear." Fair enough, I say!

So we get along well but I don't really know her, I just try to stay out of her way. Then on Saturday she tells me she's thinking about changing her hair color and would I mind doing it for free? And we could bond and stuff. Obviously that was Tori's thing, but what am I supposed to do? I can, and have, faked a lot over the last few months... sometimes successfully, sometimes not, but this is obviously something I don't want to try, so I tell her I can't, but I guess I couldn't give a good reason why not, so she unleashes all this ranting on me about how it's bullshit that "Tori" wasted all this time and money on beauty school and gave up on it so quickly and won't even help out her own mother, and she feels like she doesn't know "me" anymore, and, well, obviously I am just not her favorite person anymore. And it didn't help my situation that I was menstrual-cramping something awful at the time, so my baser instincts got ahold of me and I actually felt the need to get some stuff off my own chest, (stuff that mostly had nothing to do with her and I couldn't explain in a short amount of time, about my real life, my current life, my sexuality, my job, etc etc.) even though that's exactly the kind of thing I had avoided doing this whole time... I guess bottling up all my frustration doesn't help.

So I ran upstairs and shut myself in my room and started reading the diaries again. I mentioned some references to her little friend, Danny, a boy she obviously liked. As middle school gave way to high school he's still around, and yet Tori has started dating older boys instead of him. Funny how entire threads of our lives can be pulled out of place. She never explains whether she admitted her feelings for him, not yet anyway. And when she talks about these other boys she goes out with it's not with the same language and enthusiasm and passion as she wrote about Danny. I can see her starting to get shaped into the girl she ended up becoming. Sara has been referenced only as a vague acquaintance, Raine hasn't yet appeared.

She talks about her looks a lot, going back and forth about whether she thinks she's attractive. I guess that's the kind of insecurity a lot of teenage girls go through.

Let me tell you, being in Tori's body has made me appreciate a lot of things about a woman's body. Call me a caveman, but I guess before I was a woman I often just saw women as pretty faces and nice boobs. Typical superficial stuff. I've learned so much as I've gotten more and more accustomed to the face in the mirror. The way my eyelashes curl, the way my chin comes to a subtle little curve, my cute little ears... the curve of my hips and legs, the way I look in a set of bra and panties and the way my stomach just drops right down without a bulge, curving just at the top of the panties because hey I'm thin but I'm no skeleton... so many little details I never would've noticed if I hadn't had time to examine. I don't know. I wonder if she ever thought of herself that way. I know she didn't when she was 15, getting awkward, desperately watching her weight, nervous about her boobs... she wrote a whole paragraph about how she hates the way her nose sticks out, but you know what? I like her nose, too. It gives her face character.

I guess I can see why that would lead someone to obsess about beauty and go into it for a living... always judging and comparing herself to the other girls... but I wish she had someone like me who could tell her how beautiful she is just the way she is.

But hey, this is coming from a guy who hasn't been past second-base in about three years, not including with himself...

Cliff/Tori: Thanksgiving Saga Part 2

If you haven't read the below entry yet, please do so, as you can tell, this is a continuation.

I woke up Thursday morning somewhat surprised to find myself in my own bed. It was that little moment between dreaming and waking where I forgot I'd come to Buffalo, and for a very hopeful moment thought maybe the last six months (~!) were just a dream. A brush of my hand over my left breast confirmed that.

I do that sometimes. Early in the morning, in the shower, times during the day when I find myself randomly on my own. I feel my breasts, run a finger over my pussy. It's not a sexual thing, most of the time I don't even get noticeably turned on, it's just a reflex. Hell, when I was a guy, sitting at home alone I often used to just cup my balls in the same manner. Just to feel. As much angst as my predicament has given me, I know - or hope - it's not permanent, and then for the rest of my life, it's back to my old ways, so I steal a feel every now and again. It's my right, especially given how rare my interactions with the female body were before I became one.

After I got out of the shower, things weren't going well for this gal. I had intended to dress casually for Thanksgiving at my family's place - a pair of jeans and a t-shirt - but Tori's body decided to rebel. I don't know what it is about a woman's body that enables it to suddenly not fit into a pair of jeans that were just nice and snug days earlier. It wasn't even a matter of putting on weight, I've been hovering within a few pounds of the same weight I was when I got Tori's body, plus or minus 5. I guess my ass just chose today to get fat. If I could barely get them on in the morning, there was no way they'd hold out through a turkey dinner.

Plan B was a dress with one of those high-waist belts that sits right under your boobs. It was more along the lines of what my mom would want to see a girlfriend of mine wear (pretty and feminine but not revealing) but not really the style of clothes I choose to wear for myself; I dress boyishly whenever I can, which is usually. But that's more out of convenience than fear. I crossed the mental threshold against "girling up" a long while back. It also meant I had to put on a pair of nylons, especially given the frigid Buffalo weather (which I've missed only a little bit.)

The other problem was, my hair wasn't doing what I wanted to do. We still had plenty of time, and Cliff asked if I needed help, I told him no, I'd just pull it back into a ponytail or something. He offered "If ye like, I ken pull it back for ye into a braid." (I apologize for my ridiculous rendering of his accent, BTW.)

"What, seriously?"

"Oh for sure, I had three sisters, I know a thing or two."

I thought it over. "Sure, why not." He sat on the couch, I sat on the floor, my head between his legs as he tied my hair together.

"Y'know, I admire yer guts, Cliff, I really do," he chuckled in his thick British accent, "I mean lookit ye. Deep down inside, you're this bloke, but here you are. If it were me, I'd lock meself up and never let a soul see what became of me, but 'ere you are."

"Well," I laughed, "I tried that, it didn't work so well, so I wasn't left with many other options. Believe me, this was not my first choice of lifestyle..."

"Well, you ken at least consider yourself in the lucky few who probably get a chance to see the other side. Best take advantage, I says, while you've got it."

I rolled my eyes and laughed, "Yeah, you try having these things and see well you deal with it."

"Well, if I knew it weren't permanent I wouldn't mind having a go." I could tell he was joking around, but it still hit a nerve and I didn't feel like playing along with the joke. He apologize, "No for real though, you seem to be taking it okay and I'm very impressed." He slipped into his goofy American accent, "Well, I'm about done here. Have a look."

I went to the mirror and was most impressed with how nice my hair looked pulled back, but more neatly than I ever could. He came up behind me, I turned and gave him a "well done" pat on the shoulder. Once again I felt so small looking up at my old face.

He let me drive my own car over to my parents' place, although I haven't driven in months and getting behidn the wheel in this body was an odd prospect... my reaction time felt down and I felt very small behind the wheel.

We got there at around 3. I hesitated at the door. It's a very special kind of horror when you walk up to your parents' house wearing a a bra, a dress, pantyhose, earrings. I knew they'd never know it was me, but part of me just imagined my dad taking one look at me and crying out "My God son, what have you done to yourself?"

Most of the family had already arrived. My dad was in the living room with my uncle Lou, watching football. My aunt and mom were in the kitchen. Willy "introduced me around." I was all locked and loaded with the cover story, but dad and uncle Lou just smiled and turned their attention back to the game. Willy looked a bit baffled by what he called (to me) "The American Football Game," but hey, I was never that into football either.

Being one of the girls, I was called into the kitchen. Well, that's just sexist, frankly. My cousin Bette's husband Gerry manages a restaurant, but he isn't asked to help; when they arrived shortly after we did, it was Bette who came in to do the stuffing, while Gerry joined the football club. What chance did I have?

My mom seemed rather interested by me, though, and made sure I didn't stray too far from the kitchen. "I'm not really much of a cook," I said. She just looked at me and put her hands on her hips, "Well, then what good are you? Get outta here!" And I must've looked awfully uncertain about what to do, since she immediately dragged me back in and said, laughing, "I'm kidding! I'm kidding, nobody here gives a shit if you can cook, just have a seat and tell me about yourself." That confused me more than anything else because I've definitely never heard my mom swear before.

I nervously ran through Tori's general backstory - growing up in Philly, meeting "Cliff" online (then she asked me who I meant, and I had to explain that "Cliff" is the nickname her son uses.) She asked me what I thought of him, and I just wondered, what would a real woman say? What would I want said about me? What would my mom want to hear? It all just congested in my head and I started babbling about how he's such a nice guy and we're "taking it slow" and such. Then I felt stupid for bringing up sex to my mom. I wasn't thinking, I just didn't want her to think I was some slut!

She, too, seemed puzzled at what to make of that remark. She just kept basting the turkey. Then she sat next to me and took my hand in hers. "Well, it's very nice that he brought you over for dinner. And all the way from Philadelphia? It must be serious."

I laughed. "Well, what can I say? We clicked. Plus, any excuse to get away from my family..." heh.

Thankfully she didn't investigate that question further and just went on saying "I'm just happy. I love my son, but he's very shy, and it can be hard to ask him about himself. I'm glad to know a little more about how he is. He hasn't brought a girl here in a long time, I worry." And that certainly did not do much to make me feel better about myself, knowing my mom pities my love life.

One other important note, when I last saw my cousin Bette, she was pregnant. In fact, she was probably giving birth right around the time I was getting settled in Philadelphia with the Pearces. Little baby James was sitting with us in the kitchen. He woke up while Bette was still occupied with food, so she invited me to pick him up. The instant I held that little guy in my arms, I melted. I'll admit, this isn't a girl thing, I have a soft spot for babies and was looking forward to meeting him. But to the women in my family, I must've seemed like some young girl who couldn't wait to start a family of her own.

And then, as I had him held by my breast... he threw up on me. Right on the shirt that was keeping this dress respectable.

Rather than go the rest of the evening with a pukey top, or remove it and become the most cleavaged woman at the table, my mom offered to lend me a top. She had just the one, brought me up to her room and presented it to me. She left to give me privacy - changing into it necessitated removal of the dress.

I sat on the edge of my parents bed, looking at this top in my hands, and like so many things that have happened over the past months, all I could do was laugh. Some boys get caught trying on their mothers clothes when they're young, and it's embarrassing for everybody (I tried it once, I admit, but never was caught.) And here was my mom, lending me her clothes, rather enthusiastically. I'm sure there were times she wished she had a girl, rather than two boys.

I was probably taking too long getting lost in my own thoughts because before I knew, there was a knock at the door. Willy poked his head in, then removed it when he saw I was not ready. I slipped the dress back on and answered.

"Sorry!" he cried out in his phony American accent, "Uh, mom thought it might be a good time to show you around, if you wanted to see my room."

I smirked. "Sure. Let me show you around."

Like many grown men, my childhood room has not been changed much from its original configuration. Bed just big enough for a teen, alt-rock posters of bands I'd now be embarrassed to like, and women who, in real life, are probably not as attractive as they used to be. Numerous comics, particularly from my Manga phase, some action figures, outdated video games I didn't bring with me... I was frankly embarrassed to be standing in that room, especially to be a girl in that room. It was not the type of room I ever envisioned getting laid in, but maybe that's self-defeatism.

Willy was just amused, saying his room as a kid wasn't all that different. Once the embarrassment wore off, I got a bit of a nostalgia kick. It was his first time seeing the place, of course.

"Listen, Cliff, I wanna thank you for coming here with me. I've been scared to meet your folks, I wasn't sure what to say to 'em."

"Oh, you don't have to say anything much. They're not overly interesting people," I joked.

"Well, now that I know them, it'll be easier. Your dad's a decent bloke. He's open to football - ugh, soccer."

"Just let them know I'm okay, okay?"

"Okay."

I hugged the guy. Then we were called for dinner, by my dad rudely asking we "Get our pants on and get down here."

It was a good, uneventful dinner, I mainly kept to myself, politely answering the expected questions when needed. We drank a toast to absent family members. I've talked about my brother Bret a fair bit, but the truth is he wasn't there, because he hasn't been there in years, he's been in Iraq. I don't like to talk about it much because people tend to get political, and personally I just don't like to think about him being in danger. The truth is, at my most self-pitying moments after my transformation, part of what kept me sane was knowing he was out there putting his life on the line, and the worst I had to deal with was a bit of bleeding. Keeps things in perspective.

We left early though, to meet up with Justin and Randi, who ended up not showing, Randi sending Cliff a text saying Justin had gotten too drunk at his mom's, and they were going to sleep it off. So we drove home. And then...

I don't know. I don't know how to say it, despite my promise of honesty yesterday. You might want to know why, or how it started, but I can't really say, because it's just something that happened. At some point during the drive home, instincts kicked in, and I got an idea in my head, and I didn't waste too much time deciding what I was going to do about it. I was feeling happy about what a nice guy he was, how well he seemed to go with my family, and how good he made me/Cliff look, and how understanding he'd been with me/Tori.

On the way into my apartment building, I brushed up against his arm. Stepping onto the elevator, I had my arm around his waist. By the time we got to my floor, we were kissing.

He didn't say a word, didn't object. Maybe he should have, but I didn't want him to, I just wanted to go ahead with it. I was so caught up in all the feelings of being at home and being in the presence of my former body, that every possible objection I could come up with, I was able to do away with. 'It's my body, I've seen and done everything to it, if this is ever going to happen, it should probably be here and now.' We were just really caught up in the moment. It was one of those "kissing while unlocking the door, kissing while taking off jackets and shoes, into the bedroom, flopping onto the bed" types of deals you see in the movies. I think if we had stopped kissing, if either of us had said anything about the situation, it might've ruined the magic, called attention to the fact that we were not who we appeared to be and should probably not have been doing that.

I didn't know how far it was going to go. I don't have a lot of experience stopping situations like this, as I've mentioned my one previous serious girlfriend was not sexually active. So by the time he started undoing the belt on my skirt, some alarms started to go off, but I ignored them. They didn't drown out this overwhelming surge I felt rushing through my body to keep going, keep going. I was down to the top my mother had lent me and my nylons when my hand happened to brush underneath my pillow and snag on a foreign-feeling piece of fabric, which somehow I'd missed sleeping on the night before. I pulled it out from underneath. A bright pink thong, the kind I had most certainly not packed.

Freeze.

I asked him about it. He hastily explained it must've belonged to a girl he'd brought over a few nights earlier. It was like being splashed in the face with cold water.

"You mean you brought some girl back here and... and had sex with her? Just a few days ago?"

"Yeah. I mean, no big deal, it's nothing serious, just a little booty call."

"Just a little booty call? Willy, I don't get booty calls, I've never had a booty call in my life! I'm a... a virgin, remember?" At 27, it gets harder to use that word every year...

"Well yeah, sure, but... just because you are, doesn't mean I have to be. It doesn't change anything for you. I don't understand what you're on about here. It means that, hypothetically, a girl will sleep with you."

I slipped my dress back on and sat shyly on the bed. "I don't know, I just... I guess I thought people shouldn't be like that, like if I'm going to have sex, I should be in a relationship, and you... you can just go out and get it when you want? It's not supposed to be that way, it's never been that easy for me." I looked at him. "We can't do this, Willy. I really don't want to do this right now."

I thought he'd be confused, upset, but he just looked at me with those brown eyes of mine and said "I understand. I should've stopped you. But you should know I don't intend to refrain from bedding women when I can."

I sighed. "I don't expect you to. Hell, maybe if they like you, maybe they'll like me when I get my body back." I winced at how disingenuous that sounded as I said it. "It was just very shocking, to learn how good you are with women..." privately, I worried that he had had that effect on me.

So that brought the evening to an abrupt halt. I learned what it's like to kiss a man -- my neck hurt a little from craning upward, but mostly it's the same as kissing a girl, just a bit more forceful. We didn't do anything, um, too advanced, obviously, but it opened up a whole lot of thoughts about what I am right now that I really didn't expect or want to have to ask/answer.

The last part of this soon I promise.

Todd: Family Values

A lot of time has passed since I found out Deb, in my body, had impregnated a girl named Erica (previously a totally platonic friend I would never have had sex with. Probably.)

I guess I had a few expectations getting my life back. I wanted it to be exactly as I had left it, but the truth is, that was not going to be possible anyway. Before I even left for the States, I quit my job and broke up with my girlfriend, who, before we could reconcile, went and got herself transformed. No matter how I spin it, this wasn't going to be the life I wanted to get back to, so sure, why not toss in a bastard lovechild for good measure?

It is entirely likely I overreacted in my description but the truth is, I felt pretty betrayed by what Deb had done. It's not so bad that she went ahead and had sex with Erica. Yes it complicated a relatively simple, innocent acquaintanceship needlessly, but I'm used to it. I could've moved past the awkwardness like it never happened. But now there's evidence. Now it's a thing. And I guess I'm mad that Deb would've been so careless. Or that Erica would be so careless. Someone was careless and it wasn't me.

After writing that last post, I felt the urge to go see my mom. She lives in Etobicoke, far from the hustle-and-bustle of downtown life and really not that hard to get to, but for some reason I had been putting it off since getting home. I guess I was too wrapped up in my own life to think about her.

So I went out to see her without any clear decision as to whether I'd be telling her about my situation. When I got there, I had no idea what to say.

She told me, "I can tell you've got something on your mind" as she poured me an Irish coffee (we do love to drink in our family.) I was wringing my hands and drumming my fingers. Nervous habits. I wondered to myself if she'd noticed my "nervous habits" had changed over the last year. I wondered if Deb ever actually came out to visit her. "So what brings you out here?"

I wanted to tell her. I felt it all welling up in my throat as I thought back to the morning I was transformed into Anne-Marie, and after realizing I would not be going right back to Toronto, she was the second person I thought of (after Alia of course.) I wanted to tell her how I had spent a year living in a house ten times nicer than any place we'd ever lived and how it gave me an appreciation of everything she did to provide for me while Dad was in and out of the marriage (the situation between my parents was... confusing, maybe I'll explain it someday.) About how I had tried my hand at parenthood - motherhood to be exact - and occasionally found it enjoyable. When I think back on it now, more than anything about Anne-Marie's life, I miss Hayley and Connor.

I stammered, "It's been a while. I don't come around as often as I should."

She laughed. "I suppose not. I only raised you, after all."

"It's been a very... strange year."

"Are you ready to talk about it, then?"

"Talk about what?"

"Your mental breakdown."

I did a double-take. "My what?"

"Well, what would you call it? Your girlfriend broke up with you, you quit your job..."

"I wouldn't call it a mental breakdown." Well, maybe I would have.

"I didn't mind when you said you had the flu at Christmas. You didn't call me on my birthday. You didn't come to your cousin Terri's engagement party." My cousin Terri got engaged? "I don't blame you, you never were the most organized, but I want you to know I've noticed. A mother notices these things and I want you to tell me if there's something wrong."

"I didn't mean to worry you, mom--"

"Oh, you want to talk about worried? How abut disappearing to the States for months on end with hardly a postcard or e-mail?"

I sat thinking about it for a moment, my mind running over the effect my absence had had on my mother. I had been very involved with Anne-Marie's family, but Deb hadn't gone out of her way to be part of mine. And as much as I wanted to be mad at her for that, the fact is it wasn't that far off from the way I had been before. I'd come to family gatherings and act aloof from everyone, snipe and start arguments with distant relatives if it suited me, because I didn't like being made to interact with them. Shit, more than one Thanksgiving/Christmas/Birthday/Reunion I came stoned and/or drunk just to deal with it, when I wasn't outright skipping them. The behaviour my mom was chiding me for was my own, not just Deb's.

"I needed to grow up," I told her.

"Well I'm glad you said it." She smiled a warm, motherly grin, "But what are you going to do about it?"

I took a long, thoughtful sip and decided to tell her.

"Something's happened. Someone's pregnant."

"Someone?" She asked. I nodded. "Not Alia?"

"No."

"Are you seeing this girl?"

"No. Someone else is."

She heaved a deep, disappointed sigh. I was sure to add, "He wasn't seeing her at the time. I think they were, you know, broken up, or on a break or whatever, and I didn't think it was going to-- well, it doesn't matter. I made a mistake." The weird thing is, I have made mistakes, and it would do me well to admit them, even if this isn't one of them.

"And what happens now?" she asked. "Is she keeping it?"

"To my knowledge."

"And you're, what, going to help raise it? Support the kid? Play dad? Or just sign the kid away to his other daddy?"

"I... I haven't figured it out yet."

"Well," she finished her coffee, and I'd finished mine, so she cleared the cups away. "When you do, let me know. Because I want to help you, but you've got to decide these things for yourself. I want you to do whatever you feel is right, Todd."

"Thanks, mom," I stood to leave. I gave her a big, warm hug and a kiss. It felt good to reconnect with her... we hadn't talked that seriously since way, way before I left. I forgot how much of a straight-talker she can be when the situation calls for it. She can be a tough lady, my mom, and I admire her for it.

I left still not knowing what to do, but feeling I was on the right track to properly addressing the situation.

-Todd