Jonah/Krystle: Settling In, Part Two

Moira and I have been down here almost a month now, and we're almost set in our routine.  I only got as far as actually moving in last time, but obviously there has more to it than that.  I'd been able to get Moira registered for kindergarten on the phone and online, so the next morning, we called a Lyft and went to her new school, signed the last of the paperwork that needed to be done in person, and then waited in the hall while the principal brought her into her new classroom and introduced her.  I kind of wanted to stay there all day, but I had to do all the shopping for stuff I didn't have.

It dawned on me as I left the school that I kind of had no idea where the best place to do this was, especially if you can't really afford Crate & Barrel or anyplace similarly fancy.  I searched furniture and housewares on my phone, but I didn't really know which ones were respectable local places and which ones were kind of shady.  I'd made a list the night before of what we needed, and whistled at the amount of it.  Not just the cost, but I really should have kept the moving van for an extra day rather than renting a car.

And what is the right amount, anyway?  I knew that I couldn't really get away with two plates, two cereal bowls, etc., especially since I can get kind of lazy in terms of doing dishes when things are busy, but eight kind of seems like overkill - although, once I thought about "what if my parents and Momma Kamen and Karla and her boyfriend and her kids and maybe some neighbors all showed up at once", I started to panic.  I went with boxes of four and made a note to buy some plasticware for emergencies when I went grocery shopping, with the idea that I could go buy some more matching good stuff if I knew I'd have visitors a few days in advance.  It seemed like a weirdly grown-up and responsible thought for someone who sometimes kind of still thinks of herself as the teenage boy she was before the Inn.

(On the other hand, I got a text from Gabriel asking how the move was going while I was shopping, and I may have responded with a comment like "you know, if we got married, other people would buy us all this shit as wedding gifts" and he may have texted back "hahahahaha u srs?", leaving me wondering what I would have done if he'd replied "deal!")

I kind of punted on some things, since I only had so many hours to work with before school let out and I didn't want to buy actual furniture on short notice, but did want a place to sit and eat.  It felt kind of wasteful to buy chairs and tables that folded up that I hopefully wouldn't use for more than a week, especially before my first new, higher paycheck, but I wasn't going to have Moira telling her new friends that we were just sitting on the floor for a couple weeks and have people think we were really poor rather than just starting out.  I especially don't want her being told she was poor.  Like, okay, I kind of felt poor a lot when I first took Krystle's life, and it sucks.  It's a big part of why I've been kind of slow to move out of Momma Kamen's apartment even when I'd saved a bit; I didn't want her to ever feel like she didn't have everything she needed.

Anyway, once all that got done, I sat on the steps outside the building and waited.  Moira had been taking school buses at pre-kindergarten in Cambridge before summer, but I still worried about her getting on the wrong one on her first day, especially if she got distracted or forgot her new address, so I sat out there and waited, barely able to pay attention to the book I was reading on my phone.  She and a boy the same age got off at the same time, though, and they were really cute introducing each other when they realized they were neighbors and pointing at their respective apartments.  Then she ran over to me, and I picked her up and asked how her first day went.

"It was kind of neat!  There's a lot of kids in my class, but most of them seem nice.  The girl who sits next to me, Josie, speaks English and French!  Can I speak French?"

"Well, I'm sure you can learn."  I had actually been trying to find a way to get her into the classes where they teach her Chinese back in Cambridge, but I suppose French would be more practical here.

She got on the bus by herself the next morning, and then I went to the gym.  It wasn't exactly in the same neighborhood, but I left early and it's not hard to figure out buses with a smartphone.

The guy I was replacing got there about ten minutes after me, and looked me up and down as he unlocked the door.  I probably wasn't dressed the way he thought I should be, but I'd kind of had to guess what "proper" was.  The manager back at the old location was a guy, and tended to dress casual in khakis and short-sleeved button-up shirts, stuff where he even if he doesn't have to change out of it quickly if he needs to help on the floor, he's still giving the impression of someone fit and active as you'd expect in a gym.  My body isn't exactly built for that sort of thing even when a sports bra is doing its best to keep the girls under control, so I went with a loose camisole that still covered my shoulder, plus a skirt over black yoga pants.  Not quite "casual management", but I'm not really sure how that works for me yet, even a month or two later later.

Not that this guy looked like he was likely to help out on the floor.  I've been kind of lucky in most of my bosses as Krystle, who have more or less been either folks who started the business and shared the load or had been promoted from the same sort of position I have been, but this guy looked like he'd gone to college to be management.  A month or so in, I'm not exactly ridiculing it - it's a skill I'm still learning - but he sure seemed both happy that he'd be able to get back to spending all of his time managing a location in a nice white suburb and to suspect that I'd slept with someone and was either being rewarded or sent far away (or some combination of the two).

He gave me the quick tour, showing where everything is.  Chain places like this are kind of weird; it had all of the walls the location back in Massachusetts did but rearranged because the space is a different shape, with offices and the employee changing areas and break rooms in the back rather than downstairs.  I kind of wonder if there's someone at the main headquarters whose job it is to adapt stuff to the location or if that's contract work.

He seemed eager to get out before the regular employees arrived, and I wonder if there was some bad blood there.  I wouldn't exactly be surprised - both of the guys I met on that first day were a head and a half taller than me, and a little googling says they were big-deal high-school basketball players who wound up not being such a big deal in college and apparently gyms are where you apply when you've got a degree in physical education but your hometown doesn't need a gym teacher.  Indeed, five of the six people doing my old job are guys like that.  The other is a 19-year-old girl who goes to Tulane.

It's kind of weird; a lot of the guys don't look at me as an authority figure at all, and a lot of the time they are not shy about staring at my tits and ass at all, but - and this is only paraphrased a bit from an overheard conversation - I'm also not that white nerd who thought I was better than them, and maybe subconsciously they pick up on how there's a guy their age under this skin and that smooths things over a bit.  There haven't been any real problems where I've had to cut someone's hours or warn them about being inappropriate with the clients yet, but I'm kind of dreading the first.

I'm kind of running first-day and so-far stuff together there, but I guess I've fallen into enough of a pattern to remember exactly what I was feeling those first few days.  I am still kind of keenly aware of the day-to-day with Moira after school.  The elementary school in our area doesn't have the same sort of after-school extracurricular activities the one in Cambridge did, and I still really don't know anybody I trust as much as Momma Kamen to babysit yet.  She's made some friends and often goes to their places after school, but I feel kind of weird asking other parents to look after my kid on top of theirs, especially when it comes to ask which neighborhood teenager or granny is worth paying.

Still - my apartment is looking more like a home, I haven't fallen flat on my face at work yet, and Moira has made a bunch of new friends.  This may just work out!

-Jonah/Krystle

Eddie/Theresa: Being Theresa

As impossible as my life has been for the last three weeks or so, I can't imagine what it must be like for the vast majority of people who go to that place and wind up tossed into a new position which is not only out of their experience, but which itself has been left in the lurch, with nobody to help them except maybe someone else who is equally confused.  As much as it's still a shock each morning to wake up as Theresa Moreau and reacquaint myself with all the female things that I'm not yet taking for granted, I at least grew up in her hometown, and was at least a passing acquaintance, if only because I was a little better in school than people expected and was on the same sports teams with the kids who had some money.  I was even kind of friends with Austin, at least during baseball season, so there's a part of me that wants to forgive him for doing this to me, although I mostly just want him to fix it and make this as painless as it can be.

On the other hand, the people who took the place of Austin and Theresa during the past two years?  They are the literal best.  I didn't mention it in the last post or two, but I get the impression that they were an older couple, and just fantastically organized.  It's not just the new underthings and stuff, but the bedrooms had slip cases containing three-ring binders which themselves had printouts slipped into plastic sleeves, filled with pictures, maps, and relevant information side-by-side.  Even though they must have expected the real Theresa back, the information that they would have found useful - that Theresa's friend Lana had twins named Gil and Phil, or that the frozen custard place had to run a fundraiser not to close permanently - is still helpful to me.  They also seemed to anticipate something possibly going awry, including some more basic information, or putting little tabs in the textbooks Theresa used to study for her realtor's exam so I know what's especially important (although I guess they could just be leftover from when the sub did the same).

(Speaking of subs - I've had emails from the new me.  He seems nice enough - or would "they" be more appropriate, since he or she is uncomfortable enough with sharing information about their real life to the point where they haven't even volunteered that much information? - but I try not to think too much about what they're doing on a daily basis)

All that preparation didn't mean that my first week "back from vacation" wasn't difficult, but I'm trying not to imagine how it would have gone if I didn't have Austin doing my makeup or if I didn't know where Cedar Woods was.  I still got seemingly good-natured jokes about my mind still being on the beach when I was a little slow to respond at times, and certain things about showing houses and condos still elude me, let alone the exact current zoning regulations for when somebody asks about putting a deck on the back of a place.  I've rented ever since graduation, so all of the talk about offers, escrow, and closing feels like a test I'm constantly studying for and having to pass.

That's at least something that can be studied, and I can apply myself.  I've had jobs where I was kind of learning on the fly before.  It's the moments in between, when the phones aren't ringing and the four of us in the office are just chatting that are often the hardest to navigate.  I expected the other young woman to have the strongest opinion on me staying with Theresa's natural hair color, but it's actually the other guy, a few years older than me, and it makes me really uncomfortable.  He's got a girlfriend, and I suspect Theresa turned him down some time ago, so what's it matter to him that my hair is "drab"?  Is he going to be checking out my ass constantly if I ever start wearing skirts and heels?

That's not happening any time soon, though, if only because I kind of feel lost with Theresa's clothes on the weekend, and Austin's helping is sometimes not helping.  The first Saturday, I figured it was the weekend, so I grabbed some shorts and a t-shirt, but it didn't quite look or feel right (beyond the question of how ladies' jeans fit, whether they go halfway to the knee or to the ankle).  I was expecting dressing for work to be tricky, but I suddenly realized that I had thought about women's casual clothes even less.  I just knew a girl looked good or real good, but never paid attention to why, or where the line was between what she wears to a club, a concert, or just hanging around.  We haven't been doing a lot of "hanging out" - needing to read up on this other life is a handy excuse - but Austin's parents have been known to drop in, there's occasional shopping to do, and the Fourth of July was last weekend.

And that's where it gets super-weird.  From the way he describes his last couple years, Austin spent a lot of time on looking good as a girl, but if you think it's kind of creepy when a guy tells his girlfriend to wear, triple that for when that "girlfriend" is actually a guy not totally sold on "sexy" and the plan is to hang out with Austin's family, including his big brother who likes to make jokes about how if they don't get married soon, he's going to steal Theresa from him.  I'm just glad the weekend of the holiday was rainy and unseasonably cool, so I could wear jeans and a long-sleeved tee rather than the U.S. flag crop-top and the tiny shorts that go with it.

I suppose that I'll find a way to be Theresa that also lets me be myself a bit over the coming months - most folks either seem to manage that or get completely swallowed by their new life, and I still can't imagine that.  It's still hard to imagine finding the right middle ground right now, though.

-Eddie/Theresa

Daryl/Magda: Planning for futures

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

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

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

It turns out, I was being offered a promotion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Magdaryl

Simon/Joy: Shoe on the Other Foot

I try to power through all the crap having stayed at the Inn brings, because no good comes of letting your opponent see a weakness, even if that opponent is cancer or whatever cursed the Trading Post Inn, but I've got to admit, the last few months have given me a few setbacks. 

I didn't wine up going back to the office after storming out of there at the start of March.  I wanted to, but another lesson you learn working in sales is that sometimes you have to be ready and willing to not just look like you're going to walk away from a bad deal, but actually do it.  I hate it - it usually means you've misjudged something - but none of the guys from the office made even the slightest token motion of support by the time I was dressed and ready to head to my car.  I don't consider myself any kind of feminist, but folks who aren't even going to talk to you privately when you've been attacked?  Fuck 'em!

(And, yeah, I have spent some time racking my brain trying to think if that includes me. I feel like I've never been in the situation, but Treena thinks I have and it just didn't make enough of an impression on me.)

It was an effort to find new work after that, because my/Joy's one set of references in the real estate business now said I was "difficult" and ended with the story of me kneeing a potential buyer in the groin.  That does not look goods on your résumé, even if some of the women who inhabited me looked a bit encodes at points.  Eventually, you wind up lowering your expectations which is why I went from dealing with successful people looking to buy and sell houses to helping folks looking for new apartments. 

It's not a bad job for someone who isn't exactly planning on staying in this life forever.  The dress code is a little more casual, and while the hours can be longer, as far potential clients can duck out of work and so want to see places early, late, or on the weekend, things tend to get done with a minimum of haggling.  The commissions are lower, but it's easier work; sometimes the job seems like it's just a matter of them trusting me with keys.

And it gave me a big leg up when looking for a new place when Treena informed me I was moving. 

Even though it's kind of a miracle that we lasted this long - there is a lot we don't see eye to eye on - the way she did it was a real power move.  She intimated that it was about her boyfriend being ready to move in, but they've only been together a couple months.

"Fine," she says, "I'll skip the nice version - I just realized that I've had you as my roommate for almost as long as the real Joy, and ever since you've been getting cozy with Iain, the two of you have started running together in my head and I don't like it.  Then I thought, okay, it's only until he goes back to the Inn, but then I realized that meant that you'd be replaced by some other not-Joy who could be an even bigger pain or, worse, dangerous.  A girl's got to protect herself."

We had a little "I see you've made your mind up" exchange, and while I'm annoyed, because who likes moving, Treena is hardly the first woman to call me an asshole to my face or anything.  If she doesn't want me around, fine.  I've got a database full of nice-looking studios to look through, and I'm not going to have to pay an extra month as to the agency.  I can deal with it. 

Now, does she have the same attitude when I set up tables for a yard sale on Memorial Day weekend, after having put some of Joy's stuff up on Craigslist?  Nope, then it's "how can you get rid of that, it was so important to her!" and "we always shared this!"  Like, do you want me to be Joy or not?

I didn't get rid of that much in the purge, but it was enough to make the move a little easier.  I found a real hidden gem down near the beach (no ocean view, but you can almost smell the salt air), and I've got to admit - even if a lot of the contents of this new spot were once Joy's things, it does feel more like my place, both because I'm not sharing it and because I put everything where I thought it belonged.  Yeah, I felt like I'd played myself a few days ago when I woke up with red spots on my panties and nobody to borrow tampons from, but I actually felt a little better after that, too.  I may not be Joy for much longer, but I don't need training wheels as a girl anymore, either. 

-Simon/Joy

Tyler/Valerie: Something I'm cut out for

I'd done a few catering gigs with Maddie last month. Usually they were uninteresting nights but a great way to make a few bucks. Admittedly, I would have made more if my service style was more friendly and smiley and outgoing, and less "Take your shrimp tempura, and don't glare at my boobs too long" but in the end I don't think it cost me that many dollars. I've never really waitressed before, so the only direct experience I have serving is at the coffee shop, where a certain level of snarky detachment is OK since nobody spends too long at the counter anyway.

I felt like I was starting to get the hang of it heading into last night's event when everything suddenly went tits up (so to speak). Our site manager came down with a nasty springtime flu, and half the food was mis-delivered and there was no way of knowing where it was, so there was no getting it back.

There was a lot of pressure since this was apparently one of our biggest clients - some big investment banker was wining and dining some European clients and this shindig was of the utmost importance.

For a minute we were panicked, completely off our game and generally screwed. It was like everyone completely forgot how to do their jobs just because Kathleen wasn't there directing traffic. For a moment I was sheepish about doing anything because i'm the new gal, but I knew we needed someone steering the ship, so I stepped up. I instructed the girls how to pace the appetizers to buy us some time so that I could send Maddie out on a supply run to track down a serviceable replacement for the entree - which I would then cook myself in the venue's kitchen. I can't even tell you how exhilarating it was to be barking out orders and commanding a team while being so petite of a presence. It feels like I had sunk into the role Valerie's body put me in and I was finally overcoming that.

It was like drawing on every skill I had ever gained as Tyler, as Judith, as Valerie... I was making snap decisions, thinking on the fly, adjusting the playbook... I really felt like I was in my element for the first time in I don't even know how long. At the end of the night, I was stressed, I was sore, I was exhausted... but I was also on some kind of euphoric high.

On the way home I texted Rafe to say I needed to blow off the extra energy somehow, and if he wasn't at my house by 1 AM there might be trouble.

It was good. It felt like I had a purpose. It made me wish this could just be my life. Not as Valerie, I mean, just this environment, finding some place in the world that gave me this thrill and feeling of accomplishment, instead of just bounding aimlessly from life to life, making a mess and working to mop it up.

It sucks that I have to start all over again soon.

-Tyler/Valerie

Simon/Joy: Done with All This

Maybe today would have gone different if I hadn't been so distracted by what's going on elsewhere.  Treena says that doesn't matter, and I shouldn't blame myself, and that I did what I had to in both cases, even if my male mind is going to second-guess part of it, saying I'm letting hormones make me overreact.  Which is nice of her to say, even if it's not practical.

It started a couple of days ago, when I got a phone call from Brian.  Things had taken a bad turn, he said.  The chemotherapy and radiation which had seemed to be working had suddenly become ineffective, and as a result, the cancer had completely consumed one of his/my testicles, and it would have to be removed.  On top of that, there were indications that it may have metastasized, so even after the operation, we might not be out of the woods.

Hearing that about someone you know is never easy, and hearing it from the person who assumed your life because of a cursed hotel is a punch in the gut outsiders really can't imagine.  But try, and then imagine that you picked up the phone while in your bra and panties, doing your makeup for a night out with a couple of your best girlfriends.

Your immediate first reaction is that it's your fault, and not because something in your diet or lifestyle or something you'd exposed your body to before the Trading Post Inn took a snapshot of its exact state to apply to the next guy had created the cancer and it just hasn't become noticeable until after the changes.  No, the fact that I've kind of enjoyed being a pretty young girl, taken advantage of what it gave me, to the point where a moment ago I had been wondering if the high heels I was pairing with my dress were sparkly enough, that set something adrift in the universe that attacked my true form's masculinity in response.  It makes a stupid amount of sense, especially if you've got a roommate who talks a lot about karma and energy and connectedness.  Like, you know there's magic in the world (or, as one guy I know suggests, aliens conducting a long-running social experiment), and maybe that's the sort of thing that actually affects it.  Sure, it hasn't really worked that way for anyone else, but who knows?

I text the girls that I can't make it and spend a couple hours talking to Brian.  It's not a great conversation, but, hey, he needs it and I suddenly feel like getting into some sweatpants and watching sports anyway.  I have my first night where is really hard to sleep afterward, but I get through a day of work feeling kind of grateful that I can do this whole Brian goes through the hard stuff.

Today is basically going the same way until I had out to the suburbs for a showing.  It's one of the best listings I've got, and the guy I'm showing the house to is some sort of tech millionaire.  I'm feeling really good about it, thinking about what I can get with the commission, pointing out the large walk-in closet in one of the bedrooms, asking if there's a Mrs. Tech Millionaire who might appreciate it.  Maybe I'm being kind of flirty - I sort of turn it on by instinct if I think someone might be partial to petite blonde girls by now - but even if I am, it seems like he's mostly showing interest in the property.  Or at least, it seems that way until I realize I've wound up in the corner of this windowless space with a decent-sized guy between me and the door, with one hand on the wall next to my head.

I don't think there's a lot of intent to it; I've done stuff like that in my real life and tend to think of it as saying "hey, stick around" if it's saying anything, and girls who see an "or else" are just reading too much into it 99% of the time.  So I'm not really thinking of "escape" as I slide along the wall in the other direction, just that I've got a fair amount more house to show him.  He moves the same direction, puts his other hand on the other side of my head, and asks if I could fill this space.  I say I'm not the one shopping around today and duck underneath his arm, getting out of that closet and into a more open area.  I'm starting down a couple of steps toward a recessed hot tub when I'm bumped from behind and I have to do that thing where you make really quick, small steps to get down the steps in your heels without really falling.  I turned around at the bottom and asked if he was okay, because that's what you do.  He smiled, said he was sorry, and then indicated the basin with his eyes and asked if I brought a bathing suit (there was a trap over it, but you could faintly smell chlorine indicating it was filled).

Even if you're a guy inside and out, that's going to set off alarm bells (and not necessarily just omg gay! ones), so I back off, still trying to be friendly but also like, whoa, not the time or place.  But somehow I'm up against another wall, and he's real close.  His hand reaches out and for a moment I think it's going to wind up around my neck, but instead he sort of nestles my chin between his thumb and forefinger, then tips my head back before starting to lean in for a kiss.

I knee him in the groin.

The ladies-who-have-always-been-ladies probably don't understand how freaked out I have to be for that; even when a man finds someone taking it in the junk funny, he winces, and we just wouldn't consider doing it to one another, even inn a nasty fight.  We know how much that hurts.  I'm actually kind of horrified when I see him let me go and then stagger backward.  But I'm also really angry, wondering how much letting little things slide had led to this, so I do it again, this time really connecting because I'm not back against the wall and can aim that skinny kneecap.  If I'm not going to have a full complement of testes, no need for this asshole to have one.

I've got my fist clenched, the image of a  uppercut sending him flopping into the hot tub very clear in my head, but he holds his hand up and backs off, all the way to the driveway.  Once I've heard him drive off, I sink down into the nearest couch, and just shake for a while.  Then I go to the nearest bathroom and look in the mirror, kind of surprised at what I see.  It was over so fast that my hair wasn't mussed and my makeup didn't really need any touching up - there was a bit of a smudge on one cheek, but I hadn't cried, so nothing was running.  It was almost like it didn't happen.

I almost convince myself it didn't on the road back to the office, but the looks on every face there tell a different story.  I'm called into the same office as before Christmas, only this time, instead of staring at me coolly from behind the desk, he's pacing behind the chair where I sit as he asks what the fuck is wrong with me.

"I--  I'm sorry.  I didn't feel safe, so I just reacted."

"Oh, you didn't feel safe!"  He leaned in, mauve trying to see if I'd covered some injury with concealer or something.  "You certainly don't look like you've been through any sort of wringer."

"Yeah, because I acted before it could get that far!  Son of a bitch had his hands on my face; should I have waited until they were on my tits or in my panties?"

"There's no call for that sort of language, missy!"

"Are you shitting me?  Folks use that language in this office all the time, about those same tits and panties.  I don't mind like some chicks do - I can take it as the compliment it's intended to be - but that asshole crossed a line I told myself I wouldn't let anyone cross.  And if you're going to blame me for that..."

I got up, walked out, and started cleaning out my desk.  Loudly.  You might think that in sunny liberal #MeToo California, someone might have interceded on my behalf, but nope.  They just let me walk out to my car.  I think I overheard a comment about how I was just being emotional, but I'd be back Monday.

And maybe I will.  I've got to admit, this doesn't really feel like me, and maybe when I've got a little less adrenaline and female hormones running through my body later, I'll be able to sit back, think about how this is just what a woman has to do if she wants to play in men's worlds.  Tonight, though, I'll be going with booze.

-Simon/Joy

J.T./Elaine: The Grind

Am I some sort of traitor to creative people everywhere for kind of liking Elaine's nine-to-five job?  Since I got into show business as a kid, I've never really had one before; that TV show was probably the closest thing, and then there's tutors, limited hours, and you're looking for something else for at least half the year.  But ever since then, I've met a lot of people who came to acting or music or whatever later, and they've always been disdainful of office work, or hated the jobs they worked whole waiting to be discovered, calling it soul-deadening or shivering at the notion of having to punch a clock.  I've always just accepted that as being the case, and certainly, when things were looking up, I've been the same way.  Why sit behind a desk all day, punching things into a computer, or stand behind a counter selling things, knowing that what you're doing will never be remembered or bring joy into someone's life?  And to imagine doing the same thing for decades, rather than creating new characters and songs...  Ugh, right?

Maybe after I've been at it more than a month, I'll feel the same way, but right now, there's something reassuring about getting up in the morning, taking a train across town, and seeing the same people, trying to build something.  The job I got hired for its daunting as hell - we're building software for a new type of medical imaging system, and there's not a single thing about it that I really understand.  Not the medicine, not the hardware, not the three different programming languages being used, not the way information is being passed between everything.  It should have me exposed as some sort of fraud impersonating a woman with real tech skills.

But, instead, I'm really enjoying the solidity of it.  The product owners, to use the Agile terminology, understand the medicine.  The engineers understand the hardware.  The programmers understand the software.  There are folks who have spent their entire careers testing things.  I'm surrounded by a bunch of really smart people who are making something really useful work, and while none of them will have their name show up in a credit roll after someone gets a scan, that's okay.  It's not like my real name would show up on one of those either.  We've got daily meetings to talk about progress and problems, and it really helps me get a little bit of the same feeling of accomplishing something as I would wrapping a scene on set and doing something different the next.

Of course, they all kind of hate me for those meetings.

Maybe not "hate"; for like "resent".  And I kind of get it; if performing had little "breakout sessions" interrupting the flow of what what I was doing as a performer or I had to write up "stories" for every step of the process, I'd be like "that's the director/producer's job".  So it's kind of a weird tango for me right now, trying to take on as much of that stuff as I can because I want the developers to not resent me or Elaine but also kind of reliant on them knowing what's actually needed a hell of a lot better than I do (which is kind of the actual point even when the project manager isn't an out-of-work actor magically turned into someone else).  One thing Elaine warned me about was not being the sort of manager that makes sure she's always in a meeting - apparently the number one complaint she got when first taking this sort of role was that since her entire job was scheduling and moderating meetings, she never stopped and wound up chewing up everyone else's time as a result.  Not a problem with me, as that's valuable "research to not look like an idiot" time.

The people are pretty cool, too, not the total nerds I was expecting, and there are more women, too, so I'm not raw meat at a sausage party.  We're not exactly a tight-knot group yet, although I do think I've got a bit of a head start on making friends there, as being a tech contractor is kind of like being an actor, where you've got to show up on set and work extremely closely with a bunch of folks you've just met from moment one. 

And speaking of friends and getting closer and such, I had my first real "girls' night" with Elaine's single-lady friends on Friday, complete with that dress I shouldn't have worn for the interview, serious heels, and more make-up than I've ever worn without without bright stage lighting being shined in my face.  It's weird getting ready for that - as a man, there's this creeping "what am I doing?" horror, but as an actor, there's kind of an excitement.  Performing is probably a weird thing to a layperson, but it's a useful mindset to get into if you've been into the Inn.  When I go present myself as Elaine, I'm not really trying to fool anybody, but I'm trying to create an impression.  On stage or screen, the line is clearer - the actor is trying to make you feel something genuine, but you accept that it isn't real. 

I'm not sure entirely what's going on as I meet Dorrie, Diane, and Jezzie at a downtown bar.  The hugging is me doing what Elaine would, and I try to talk about work and things the way she would - for instance, she'd get very upset about guys going around her at work, whereas I mostly don't mind (aside from maybe not knowing what to do, why add steps to a process?).  But there's a lot of this life where I'm just being me to the extent that I can, and it's kind of weird trying to explain why something was cool or frustrated me in Elaine terms, especially since these seem to be very much black-girl friendships, and there's likely to be some bit of context I'm missing.

I'm learning a bit, though; we went out dancing after the drinks, and that was an experience.  I've been to clubs that mostly served an African-American clientele before, and I sort of took the feeling of sticking out like a sore thumb with me at first, but Jezzie pushing me onto the floor made it a bit easier for me to act like I belonged there.  The girls teased me about how it had been a long time since I'd been out dancing - I guess having a bit of booty to shake doesn't keep you from shaking it like a white guy, plus Cary tended to stick around with Elaine-Mackenzie rather than go out - but didn't act suspicious about my being "out of practice".  I don't know if I dance better in this body, but I feel like I get a lot more attention.

On the one hand, it's kind of nice to know I make a credible enough Elaine to get guys deciding that they want to dance with me, which is a little unnerving.  You hear that your orientation will adjust to your body's, and even if I haven't played a gay guy once or twice, a guy expressing interest shouldn't be something to get you upset (you've just got to learn to say "sorry, not into that"), but being midway between the two, you're not sure how to react.  Well, you're not sure until someone grabs your butt and pulls you in, and then it's like, whoa, personal space!  That's kind of a hard thing to assert on the dance floor, because it's hard to break the rhythm, but I did dis-entangle myself from the first guy before retreating to the ladies' room, and "my girls" had my back, although they wondered why I was being so timid.  Elaine is apparently not shy about getting a hand on his chest, pushing away, and warning him not to do it again, slapping if necessary.  She gave me a demonstration on Skype on Saturday, and I kind of feel nervous about trying to be that much a black woman.  Sure, it's kind of cute coming out of a white preteen, but it kind of makes me worried about stereotypes and going too far.

Guys grabbing my butt aside, though, I had fun.  I kind of wish I'd be able to try again this weekend, but it's time to meet Elaine's family.

-J.T./Elaine

Tyler/Valerie: Heat

It wasn't overly hot in Brooklyn this August (for crissakes I'm from Alabama) but it was still nice when summer turned to fall. Maybe it's the leftover Judith side of me that prefers to dress in layers - cardigans or flannel over shirts and black leggings or jeans. Basically, more skin coverage, less... Tight and visible. No more feeling compelled to let my cleavage be out on display. Much less sweat pooling under my boobs too. And I always thought women loved fall because of pumpkin spice drinks.
I've found that skirts and dresses do have their advantages - in hot weather, they're usually pretty light fabric and the lack of coverage, as much as I prefer to be modest about Val's gifts, is good for keeping cool. And a once-piece dress does cut down on outfit-building time, I've known since my Judith days. But it highlights the figure and makes me appear hyper-feminine, when I would like to shoot for something as neutral as possible. Fall apparel here I come.

The summer was also a rough time to be in a cramped, non-air-conditioned apartment. There were times when I allowed myself to strip down to bra and panties (let's be honest - even just the panties as long as I can close the blinds) just for going around, albeit only when Josh wasn't around. You could use the argument that "I haven't got anything he hasn't seen" but I don't buy that. You wouldn't say that to your partner's twin, and that's basically what I've become. I still have the right to say who gets to see me in what appearance. Besides, I made the guy swear off sex with his fiancee - he doesn't need the temptation.

Let's face it, while it is a nice way to beat the heat, it's also for me. I may be as much woman as man lately but I don't think anyone would begrudge me the desire to lounge around half-dressed looking this way. I'm getting used to the idea that I have a body in its prime again - with sexy, if unusual proportions. It helps me feel more at home in this skin. Besides, if I have to lug around these big jiggly mini-watermelons, and all the frustrations that entails, I might as well take a moment or two each day to enjoy them.

Speaking of enjoying things when Josh isn't around, I discovered a little gelato place around the corner that also helped to beat the heat... Despite Val's complaints that while yes, their chocolate-pistachio is better than sex, she has a wedding dress to fit into soon and Josh promised to discourage bad behavior.

After making my third, and I swore final, trip there in a week, I found a coffee shop not far from the apartment that was hiring. It's one of those hipster indie places, a real homey vibe to it. More frou-frou than the old Tyler Blake would have been comfortable inhabiting, but he's been gone a while now. The pace feels just about right for Ty-Val.

Josh confessed his disappointment... In a way it's nice to know there are some points of friction in this seemingly-perfect relationship. I already had an inkling, but this is the first interaction we've had that could almost be considered a "fight" (albeit a one-sided, low-key one.)

I think he was hoping I would keep trying to work in Early Childhood Education, but these are the jobs that are available now, and we need money.

Hmmm... I just wrote "we" need money. We're a "we" for sure, just... A very unconventional one. And I felt a little bad letting him down, since he's not controlling or a nag except about this one thing, and he has reason to. This is clearly a sore spot for him, and he went on this rant about stalling, and living up to my potential, and moving to a new phase in life... And I sat there and took it, instead of getting upset, because it hit home.

I could use some direction. I could use a chance to settle down and get to that new phase of life myself, and stop working unfulfilling Joe Jobs (or Jane Jobs.) Only I don't have a choice. This isn't my life, I'm very limited in what I can do with it, and if he understood the truth...

Well, things would be different then wouldn't they?
I kissed him and told him to hang in a little longer. "Our" lives are just beginning.

  - Ty/Val

Cary (and Elaine): Sometimes it's like I've learned nothing

So the last time I wrote something here, a few months back, it was all about Elaine teaching me how to be her so that I could get a job and keep her career going, which incidentally would keep a roof over our heads.  I seem to do all right, although the interviews are difficult.  I usually do jobs that most anybody can do, so the interview about kinda technical things would be tough even if I'm not doing it in a miniskirt and heels.  It takes a few tries before Elaine and I find a job that both will take us and looks likely to wrap up before the end of May.  It's a near thing, but today was the last day.

Elaine tells me that's good, which I'm thankful to hear, because I don't feel like I've learned anything specific on this job.  I started out not knowing much about computers, and I really don't know much about computers now.  I don't even know much about running a hotel, and yet I've somehow earned Elaine a bonus for spearheading a local group's development of a system to track everything about that.  It's bizarre.  I feel like I've gone into an office every day for months, running a lot of meetings, moving a bunch of sticky notes around a wall, but not actually doing anything.

Supposedly, according to Elaine, all the programmers would have just play video games all day long, never schedule a meeting with their "subject matter experts" or getting anything done.  I don't know that this is necessarily the case - they all seem to be good kids, more enthused about their work than I was when I was their age.  I guess maybe that's something I'm taking with me to my real life - whenever friends talk about the lazy younger generation, I can say that I don't really believe them.

I don't really know them, though.  A lot of Elaine's teaching me to live her life was so that I could go out with her friends.  I don't do it that much - like the ones at work, they're nice kids, but even with Elaine's drilling, I can be a few seconds behind in any conversation.  Dancing can be fun, but people get kind of grabby, and guys tend to take a step back when I start to talk about sports or anything.  Mostly, though, it's a matter of feeling uncomfortable leaving Elaine at home.  We spend more of our paycheck on home video equipment and the like so that she can watch movies while I'm at work or out, and most of the time I would rather stay home and watch something with her than go out with her friends.   We've got a few shows we're watching together, so sometimes she's kind of pleased that I'm letting her social life slide.

Not always, though.  The other day, I take a picture of myself with the team so that, when she's back in her own life, Elaine will recognize the people "she" worked with for these months, making sure to tag all the faces, and when I get home, she points her little fingers at the screen and asks why I've been holding out on her.  I kind of shrug.  I guess he's kind of handsome - tall, black, bright white teeth, only hair a close-cropped goatee, in good shape but not super-muscular - but not exactly distracting to me.  I tell her that I didn't think it was a big deal to mention it, because I think I handled telling him I don't date co-workers fairly well and I didn't want her to worry.

"HE ASKED ME OUT?"

Kind of, I say, but it would be unprofessional.  Besides, I wasn't feeling anything.  She says that's ridiculous, that everyone else with a functioning sex drive is starting to go along with what their bodies want, and he is exactly her type.  I say he's evidently not mine.  She looks at me curiously, and then asks if there are any guys there that do make me tingle.  I say no, but then I remember how I jumped a couple days before when another co-worker made it right to my desk without me noticing.  I point to him - white, a little closer to my real age, shaggy hair - and she just looks away, shaking her head, saying it's a good thing that I'm so professional.

I have to admit, I was kind of tempted to ask one of them out on the last day, maybe have one actual date before going back to the Inn next week.  I chickened out, though, so I guess I didn't learn anything about what the next lady I ask out will be feeling, either.

Tyler/Judith: Who is the man, here?

To "seal the deal," as it were, for my new relationship with Kitty, I invited him along to the 30th Anniversary that I had been planning for work for Saturday night. It was fair as planner that I got to bring along a guest, and I wanted him to see me in my element. I got to wear a headset to co-ordinate the servers and cooks and bartenders... not that I'm a micromanager by any means, but it was cool to be able to direct traffic. Looking around at the floral arrangements, the catering, the whole thing ticking like clockwork... I was quite pleased with what I had done for my first effort.

"This is all very impressive," Kitty said, observing the venue. I noticed with a bit of disappointment that he his eyes trailed slightly along with the nubile young female relatives of the happy couple... but then, so did I.

"I know," I said, brushing that away, "Thirty years, who would have thought?"

"I can't remember what Chett and I did for our last big anniversary. Dinner, I guess." There was such a note of sadness, or at least distance, in his voice.

It wasn't an ideal memory to call up - we do sometimes bring up our exes around each other, but not usually when we're in good spirits. I don't talk much about my time before the Inn at all, and even try not to refer to Meg very often (we are on what I think are good terms, for us.)

Other than that, the night was largely a success with great food and plenty of booze. We took a long walk in the cold after getting home.

He seemed very distracted, lost in thought, so I thought I would bring him back down to Earth with a kiss. It seemed to wake him up and we headed home quickly so we could engage in our favourite new hobby. He's getting better. We're getting better at it.

Afterwards, naked and sweaty and cuddling, he asked me if I liked Judith's work.

"Sure," I said. "It's pretty involved, lots of moving parts. Rewarding in its own way, when you get to see the end result."

"A-huh," he said. "I just worry, you know. I make plenty of money for both of us, and... well, Chett was a bit of a workaholic."

"Where are you going with this?"

"I don't know. I like things the way they were. You mostly at home, waiting for me when my day was done. I don't want you to slip away and become a... too much of a career gal."

"Excuse me?" I said, rather offended.

"I just don't want this to become your whole life. I mean, we're out of here in the Spring, right? Why upset the status quo if that was working? I just think if more opportunities like this come up, you should think twice before jumping at the opportunity. We've got a good thing."

I was upset by this - hurt and confused - but I'm doing this new thing where I try not to react right away, and instead of getting angry and violent (not as in hitting, just as in yelling and slamming of doors,) I try to be... calm about it. I think estrogen is a good medicine for that (although not a cure-all by any means!)

"I... listen. I wanted to do this. I was getting bored. I'll be bored again. And there are a lot of upsides. Judith encourages me to help her career path along because it's what she wants to be doing... and it helps us put away a bit more money for our own lives, wherever that takes us. It's win-win."

He considered what I had said but only for a second. "We don't need the money."

I was starting to get flustered. "Well, we're not exactly... you know, I would think you were used to having a bit more."

"What I'm more used to is... a man who works, and a wife who takes care of the home."

Sometimes I think Kitty is even older than her 50-some years. Like she's from my Grandmother's generation. But I guess when you're used to having money, your values stay that way a little longer.

My heart sank a bit. I'm trying to be better, understand, compromise on things. So I admitted that while I may have had a knack for Judith's job, and I didn't really see the harm in increasing my presence there... I would consider her perspective. If it's important enough for her to bring it up, you know. There was still a little bit of Tyler inside of me that really didn't like being told what to do, but the "New Me" is trying to, well, overcome that a bit. I can be a wifey. Sure.

So after that, time passes and things get a bit more routine. I'm learning to swallow my pride and be more co-operative where Kitty is concerned, and play along with this "Housewife" routine, and really, it has its perks. It's hard as a man, a proud man, to admit you don't mind being looked after financially, to take pride in playing Suzie Homemaker, but it's tough work and deserves to be admired.

He's pretty appreciative.

By that I mean he wants to screw, like, all the time. He goes for it just about every night. And it's kind of nice to be in the position where it's up to my whim whether we do or not. It's been a strange few years, with my sex drive being cranked up and down... like I'm sorry to say, even though I do enjoy the rush and the new pleasure of finally exploring this aspect of Judith's body, I just don't... need it that badly (I figure this is just a feature of Judith's body, why I was able to go months without even really thinking about it.) Not that I want him begging for it, just... it's a thing. Sometimes I do it even if I'm not feeling like it, and the results are usually "fine, but need we have bothered?"

Anyway. Before you know it, it's Valentine's Day, and... well, this is his first Valentine's Day as a man. And we realized the Saturday before it that we didn't have any plans. So he asks me what I want to do and I say I don't really care, it's midweek so we're usually pretty tired, and there's Dylan to think about and... well, should we even bother?

And he says of course, we're a couple, we love each other don't we? (I'm still grappling with whether I do or not, but... sure, let's say I do.) We should make a big deal, celebrate "us" and how far we've come. And I say okay, whatever he's up for, I'll do my part: sexy dress, lacey underwear, red lipstick, seduction, the whole nine yards (I'm didn't say as much but that was what I implied) if he works out something for us to do that night. And he turns it around on me and says "Why didn't you plan anything?"

So it's like... excuse me, what's my part here? Am I on the hook for everything because I used to be a man and stereotypically that would have been my job? He was the one who wanted to get into a more traditional husband-wife setup. I don't deserve to be "treated"? What's the rule? What does he want from me? And do I want the same things?

It's not that I don't care about V-tine's Day, I can be as romantic as anyone when I'm really head over heels, but... something about our situation already feels so lived-in and old-shoe comfortable that it didn't occur to me. I'd be happy with a night in, but it seems like that wasn't enough.

Again, instead of making it a big thing, I just kind of sat quietly and pouted about it... and so did he. It was a tense few hours, and then we got over ourselves and made some arrangements, and... it was nice, we left Dyl with Sam and went to a French restaurant (my suggestion as we've handled events there and it has a good reputation - so I guess he got me to plan something after all) He was very lovey-dovey, picked me up some roses and a necklace to wear for the night, and got his seduction, and now things are fine. (I also got him some flowers, which he seemed to enjoy more than I enjoyed mine, and a tie.)

But I've just been racking my brain for a few days since, trying to figure it all out. Nothing's been resolved and I feel like this is going to keep being a problem. It's left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I'm trying to hide it a bit and convince myself it's just an awkward growing phase as we try to figure out exactly how things are supposed to work between us.

If we really do love each other, we can get through it... I'm sure...

-TJ

Simon/Joy: Born for this

Call me crazy, but I am actually having a blast out here.

For starters, real estate is basically the perfect job for a workaholic like me. Okay, in my normal life I'm very "work hard play hard" but I've been skimping on the "play" part so I can focus on getting the bills paid and building up a bit of a financial safety net just in case. So I'm pretty much always available to my clients, and giving them the necessary amount of my brainpower to negotiate them as good of a deal as possible. I'm still a little shaky about buying, but selling, I've managed to rack up an impressive streak of sales above asking, sometimes by a lot. I had a hunch, if I could sell industrial components in the fading rust belt, California Real Estate ought to be a snap.

The trick is to get them in a room, not over the phone. They feel trapped and blindsided that a chick this small and unassuming could be a total shark.

Life is good, the money is great, the weather out here is gorgeous, I'm sexy as hell - I dedicate a few hours every weekend to keeping my tan up. When I started working Treena gave me the keys to the real Joy's Audi SUV, which rides like a dream (necessary for showing clients around.) What could be missing? I mean, besides what's between my legs.

I'm looking at the big picture here. Have an awesome year, soak up the sun and the cash, while Treena keeps up her search for the real Joy. I'm saying, I think she abandoned her body, must have gotten a better deal. If so, good for her, I wish her the best. Maybe someone out there will want to relieve me of hers once the year is up, I bet there's a whole community out there willing to trade. And when that happens, I'll be me again, ready to take the licensing test under my real name and resume my career here.

I know that sounds optimistic, but the way things are going I think it's realistic. Am I willing to consider the possibility that shit goes sideways and I get stuck here? Sure. I've read the blog, I know that happens. But it's not like that would be a death sentence (or even a life sentence!) I'm totally crushing it here, so if I get "stuck," well... somehow I bet I'll manage.

Anyway, that's what's up with me, peeps. Hope I can keep checking in on the regular.
Peace! - S/J

Jonah/Krystle: The Changeling

1. Ashlyn

Like Missy, I've been a little nervous about posting here, though for me it's more about someone getting the wrong idea of how okay I am with living Krystle's life, but I'm feeling fairly confident right now, and I want to make sure that I let everyone know how grateful I am.

As you might expect, the toy shop where I was working closed up after Christmas, and while I was given a very nice recommendation, looking for work is very difficult for someone with Krystle's history, even if she did keep it together for a couple of months. I don't know whether it's more than her history, but it certainly feels like it took me longer to find work than Benjanin did as a white man. Maybe I'm just impatient.

If so, I'm not the only one; as you might have guessed, Karla started talking a lot about me not pulling my weight about ten minutes after the store closed. I know Momma Kamen isn't going to throw me out, but it's stressful.

One night, I decided I had had enough, stormed out, and caught a bus to Arlington. I don't think I really wanted to drink, but that seems to be what people do when they're this frustrated, and The Changeling was the only bar I'd ever been to.

Fortunately, Ashlyn was working that night and recognized me, and while I was annoyed by that at first - I don't know whether it's me or being in Krystle's body, but I really wanted SOMETHING, and I could tell from the look on her face that she wasn't going to help me do something I would regret. Instead, she got me a plate of the Texas special - beef brisket and corn bread - and waited until I had filled my stomach (I thought I knew what feeling hungry was like before the Inn, but I didn't) and then let me spill.

"Okay," she said, "can you start tomorrow night?"

"Uh... Sure?"

She laughed at that. "Man, you are young! You do know that most adults would be 'just like that?' or something, right?"

I felt kind of embarrassed by that. "I guess. It's just... I don't know, I was feeling kind of desperate. I mean, why did you offer"?

''Hey, you heard that thing about how there's apparently a special place in Hell for women who don't help other women? I don't necessarily agree with the folks peddling it, but I figure it's double-plus true for men-who've-been-turned-into-women." She gave the bar a quick scan for anybody who might think we were nuts or, I don't know, "conventional" people who might say that, and continued. "You wouldn't be the first Inn person I gave a job since opening this place, okay? Heck, it's one of the reasons I wanted it, aside from missing being my own boss."

She briefly looked like an angel, until I thought about where I was sitting. "I can't tend bar! It's not even legal for me to drink, even if folks think it is!"

She said not to worry. "Either Moira or I will be here most nights, and we're good at tending bar. I just need someone to wait tables, especially during the busy periods."

"Oh." I said. "I guess I can do that."

Needless to say, I felt pretty good when I got back to Momma Kamen's apartment that night, especially since it seemed like she and Karla were expecting me to be drunk or worse.

2. Moira

I got to The Changeling early the next day, telling the guy behind the bar that I was the new waitress, only to be told that Moira would deal with me, and she was always late.  So, I sat around the bar for nearly an hour before the loud Irish girl from the first time I visited arrived, and cringed a little as she looked around and asked if the new girl was here yet, looking right at me a couple of times before I raised my hand, and then rolling her eyes. "Of course. C'mon, let's get ye set up."

She pulled me into the back room and pulled a box of t-shirts off a shelf. "'It'll be just like back home', she said! Well, so long as ye ignore the tacos on the menu and the darkie serving them!"

My jaw dropped. "Excuse me!?" I'm not entirely a stranger to people breaking out slurs to describe me, even before the Inn, but I wasn't expecting it that night. If nothing else, I feel like Ashlyn would have warned me.

"What? Oh, fuck." The girl - Moira - banged her head against the nearest wall. "I don't mean anything by it, I just grew up in a town where ev'ryone is this white--" she pointed at herself, the part of her chest above the neckline of her t-shirt, which was in fact pretty pale even for winter in New England, "--and they all say that shit so's you don't think it's a big deal, and then the new neighborhood in America was just like that except that people look both ways after." I must have looted kind of unimpressed because she looked down at the floor and then backup at me. "You know what? That's a feckin' shite apology." Then she reached out her hand. "Hi. I'm Moira Shelley, doing my absolute best not to be a horrible person."

I took it. "Krystle Kamen. So... Shelly? That's kind of a coincidence."

"Not really; Lyn's a distant cousin. Some of her cousins took me in a few years back, we got along, we went into business together." She finished rooting around in the bin and held a t-shirt up to my chest. "There, that looks about right."

I couldn't say I agreed, and asked if there were something without such a scoop neckline, maybe a size up.

She looked at me like I was nuts. "Ye do know that although Lyn pays a decent wage, ye'll mostly be workin' for tips, right? I do well enough off my charming personality, but if I were sportin' what you and my cousin have, I'd be in a higher tax bracket."  She got me the bigger shirt, though she smirked when I turned around to change.

That first night went all right, though. It was pretty quiet, and the other girl working was helpful whenever I found myself not knowing the menu or when I didn't know which table was which.

She was right about the tips, but I couldn't justify dressing or acting like some sort of slut just to make a little more money. I tried not to be to overt or preachy about it, but I guess Karla is hardly unique in not having a lot of patience with me when I don't live down to expectations. A lot of the ladies working at The Changeling - and it is almost entirely ladies upfront, though sometimes a man will tend bar when Ashlyn or Moira isn't there, and the cook is usually a guy - act like I'n being ostentatious for not showing cleavage, although Moira says it's all in my head.

And, somehow, Moira has become the person I trust on this.  I don't know if she's become my best friend here, but she's someone who looks at me and doesn't see the mess that Krystle is expected to be and doesn't feel sorry for me because I'm not in my right body. She sees someone who is about her age (she obviously doesn't know I'm actually 17) who is also kind of different. Aside from being an immigrant, she's actually the bar's co-owner, though that's a story for another time, and some of the others there resent her for it.

Maybe I've got a bit of a crush on her; Benjamin says that same-sex crushes are actually pretty common for us. I just know she's easily my favorite person to work with, especially after a day of dealing with Karla or visiting Joseph.  We at least enjoy working together, and we've hung out on days off when her boyfriend flakes on her. I kind of don't think he appreciates that she doesn't just work here and doesn't want to just leave everything to Ashlyn, but I can't exactly criticize her boyfriend when I'm visiting what everyone thinks is mine in jail.

3. "Jonah" & "Joseph"

I feel a little more confident actually putting this down because I've actually met the guy living my life, and I knew he doesn't want to keep it. Given the other stories I've read and heard, and even taking into account that they're not a perfect sample, that wasn't a given.

The current "Jonah" and "Joseph" came down for a visit over February vactation, and I met them for lunch at The Changeling. It was, as you might imagine, kind of weird, but seeing the guy living my life was kind of encouraging, because he hated it.

My first instinct is that he's wrong on that count, but I guess it makes sense considering where he was coming from. Without getting too specific on his name or other details about his real life, we're talking about a white stockbroker in his late twenties or early thirties who has made a fair chunk of money already, likes to party, and just finds something to dislike coming at him from every direction as me: He thinks Mom & Dad are too strict with curfews and church attendance, finds high school boring and unchallenging, and really doesn't like the guy on the next street over who apparently still greets my family with the n-word. He's pretty comfortable about not liking his skin color, too - he's shaved his head because he can't handle my hair (sure, I've done something similar, but I'm not acting like this is some sort of hardship), and after ''Joe" caught him staring at my chest, said he was sorry because he usually "doesn't like black chicks."

That got him a nudge from "Joe", who it turns out was his girlfriend. She seems to be having fun with the situation, flirting with her boyfriend in a way that made him squirm because she was now a guy a couple inches taller than he is.  That height has apparently helped the school's basketball team; she said she always thought she was pretty good for a short person - she was about 5'1" the first time through high school but still got minutes on the girls' JV team before being encouraged to switch to cheerleading - and it was kind of fun to be the surprise star.

Not that I got any impression that she wanted to stay "Joe"; she talked a lot about missing her sisters and how the closest she's gotten to really shopping properly was replacing the clothes she'd grown out of.  15-year-old girls trying to get her attention was kind of creeping her out, too. 

We went out to visit Joseph after lunch, and I have to admit, it was kind of the least nervous I've felt on one of those visits.  Lamont isn't considered a particularly dangerous criminal, especially since Joseph has been a model prisoner, so we get to visit in a fairly open room rather than on either side of a glass partition.  A lot of time, though, I kind of want the glass; "Lamont" may avoid looking directly at me, but a lot of other people there, whether inmates, guards, or other visitors, look hard, even though I don't do anything to provoke them.  Having a young man on either side of me makes me feel a bit safer, even if the one with my face could really stand to be a few inches further away. 

The two Josephs seemed to bond quickly, at least, with the one telling the other that she didn't think she could have handled jail time, and being able to share mostly good news.  I wonder what the guards thought about this nicely-dressed white teenager from a New Hampshire suburb telling Lamont about family stuff, but I suppose they've seen stranger things. 

They weren't completely on the same page, though, with "Joe" rolling her eyes and asking me if this was the first time Joseph said I got the rawest deal.  I said it wasn't, and I wasn't usually inclined to disagree with him, and she said she was sorry to hear that, but with all of us getting our rooms at the Inn booked, I should try to find ways to see that's not the case.

I don't think I'll be doing that, but I am thankful that at least one of us is finding the experience rewarding as well as educational. 

-Jonah/Krystle

Rosie/Ahmir: My life so far

So, since Erin is opening up about her - sorry, his - attempts at dating, I guess I will too: There haven't been any.

It was kind of disappointing when Saraya told me she was going to start dating other people, that whatever we were doing as just a bit of fun and that she wanted "a real man." She saw me more like a "gay friend" even if I'm not "officially" gay - being around me is apparently too much like being with a woman, which is fair enough since I am one. But she didn't have to lead me on so much. She didn't seem to think very much of it, and that sort of hurts. It's not like I was in love with her, and I definitely wasn't looking for a relationship, but I think I was having a lot of fun being alone together.

She helped get me out of my head and made me feel pretty normal. Erin tries to do that, too, but I think when we're around each other we spend too much time thinking about our situation. Saraya barely seems to think about it. Being in a new skin is like she just changed her wardrobe: she's still relatively attractive, and young, she just has a different color palette.

She also doesn't think about race stuff as much as I do, even though I feel like it's shoved in our faces a lot of the time.

I feel so uncomfortable around everyone. I feel uncomfortable around white people because they make me feel like I'm something else. I'm uncomfortable around black people because I feel like they can tell I'm not one of them. I wouldn't say my life as a white woman is (was?) cushy... they're both tough, and most days I would give anything to switch places with Erin and have the freedom to just worry about living my life and "having a good time." It took me three months to get a haircut because Ahmir uses a "black" barber shop and I was petrified to go in because I felt like I was violating their space. In the meantime my "afro" got very out of control.

In the short time I've been here I've been called the n-word a few times, both by meanspirited white people (while I was just standing around on the street minding my own business) and Ahmir's friends, using the friendly version with no R on the end... and in respond I just say "Man" or "Buddy" because I'm not comfortable using that kind of language no matter how I look.

Out of everyone else writing on this blog, I think only Jonah/Krystle gets what I'm going through and even he seems to have very different take on it than I do (maybe I've become a bit like he used to be in his original life?)

What's that show called? "Black-ish?" That's how I feel now... except my skin is very dark so to the rest of the world I'm just "black."

It's freaky. It's been 6 months and I still get surprised sometimes at seeing these massive dark hands in front of my face.

There's some advantages. I like being big... I was already pretty large (5'10 and weighing more than you need to know) and the world hated me, pitied me for it, because I wasn't a dainty gal. I didn't look good, didn't feel good... the men who were interested in me thought I should feel lucky to have their attention. Now I take up almost the same amount of space (less, actually, since my booty shrunk quite a bit) but it's like I'm supposed to. Men are "supposed" to be big and brawny. Take all the space they need. Finding clothes isn't a problem. I have muscles... although not as many as I did when I started since I don't go to the gym or anything. I like looking men in the eyes or shaking their hands and feeling like they see me as something of an equal.

In my normal life I was working as a school receptionist. They don't usually hire men for those jobs so I didn't bother applying. Ahmir was working construction, and even if I have the body for it I'm not really interested in that sort of thing, so I hooked up with a temp agency and have had a few contract jobs, nothing consistent or fulfilling but it mostly pays the bills. It's strange to keep having to meet new people and get their impression of me (soft-spoken large black man who is secretly a 30-year-old white woman?) and I haven't had the chance to get comfortable anywhere. That's what my life is... a constant cycle of learning the ropes and counting the days until I "get to" go back to normal.

I don't want to judge Erin for "having it easy." S/he's aware of the difference in our situations and tries not to rub it in my face. I'm really happy if she can find ways to enjoy this. Maybe I will too.

Annette/Benjamin: Flipping Burgers & Five-Year Plans

Someone explain to me why I can't just open Google Maps, type in ''now hiring", and get a list of jobs available in my neighborhood, maybe with some sort of standard way to apply. This seems like it would be tremendously useful, but you still have to literally pound pavement. It seems like a huge waste of time.

There are job websites, of course, bat they tend to be aimed at folks looking for substantially more impressive jobs than I appear to be qualified for.  I've answered some want-ads for things that I might be able to do but which look pretty miserable (anything that involves cold-calling people), and grimaced when looking at the work history that Benny and Ronan left me with. As much as I didn't bring Benny back to my room at the Inn because he seemed clever and ambitious, his CV since high school is a lot of seasonal jobs and work on construction projects; if he sticks with it, his work as Jordan at that gym will probably the first thing that could potentially be a career, with business cards and everything.

Ronan, meanwhile, spent the year that this was his life working in a hardware store. He was apparently pretty good at it, too: The manager of the place said so when I "returned" to see if that job was still available. It had been filled, which on a certain level could have been for the best (I suspect that even if there isn't that much to know about hammers, I know less). Still, it gave this guy in his mid-thirties a chance to lecture me despite my only appearing about ten years younger, about how I couldn't just make rash decisions and expect someone else to help cleanup after I've changed my mind. No shit, buster. Impart some more wisdom.

Which he did, asking me what my five-year plan was, and looking sadly disappointed when I said that I really didn't have one. "You've got to think about your future, Ben," he said, as if we had this personal connection so that his not rehiring me was his way of making me a stronger, better man.

That said, the five-year plan thing did get to me a bit. Sixteen months ago, my five-year plan was obvious - four of them in college, hopefully including a spot on the Lampoon staff, attending workshops, making connections, and then probably a crappy internship or job at a magazine as I learned the business, whatever that looks like in 2018. It would be tough, but I figured a Harvard degree would be worth something.

Then the Inn happened and I figured it wouldn't be so bad - I kind of tag-teamed with Sandra and figured I was getting really useful new perspectives that would serve me well down the line. But then the whole Ronan/original-Missy/Sandra thing happened, and I'm starting to think I should have chosen differently, maybe tried to learn Cantonese alongside "Missy's" other classes. It looks absurd as I write it, but I really think that, and I feel really envious of Missy when I do. Not for the money, or the vagina, or the amazing clothes, but I want to go to college like I was supposed to and have all the opportunities that you get from it. I can still enroll or take classes as Benjamin, but it won't be the same, either for me or the world at large.

I suppose I could go back to the Inn next year, but there's no way to be sure that the situation would get better short of convincing Sandra to give me my proper life back, and I don't think that's going to happen. I was on a pretty good track, after all. Besides, Benny trusts me with his life, and what if I surrendered it to someone who went and murdered his family or something?

...

Wow, I thought the self-pity was dark.

...

ANYWAY, as much as Benny's work history can feel like a big hindrance, it's varied enough to offer some help. For instance, when I applied to restaurants, he's got enough restaurant experience that, instead of just busing tables, I set to be considered for preparing food. It's not a huge difference in salary, but it makes me feel like I'm capable of a little more than manual labor. Cooking is creative, even if it's on a line at a fancy burger place.

Maybe not fancy fancy - we've not spreading foie gas on your Kobe beef most nights - but the place I wound up is as much bar as diner, with cocktails and micro-brew selections to pair with the two dozen or so named combinations.  So far, the folks seem to be pretty cool, and though we haven't been hanging out after work much - in part because I've mostly been working the night shift and the MBTA is not a 24-hour service like its equivalent in NYC, and although the trip home from work is pretty direct on the B line, there's not a lot of time to squeeze something else in between the grill cooling and the subway closing.

On the plus side, working here has cut down on my grocery bill a little bit, and the food is pretty great. Believe it or not, I actually hadn't had much in the way of beef since coming back from the Inn - even with a different identity that doesn't come with cultural dietary restrictions, it takes a bit of conscious effort to change your eating habits - and good Lord, was that first bacon cheeseburger strongly in the running for "best thing ever." My friend Gretchen went vegetarian for a few months in high school, and wound up going back more out of convenience than anything else, and she just said that she had sort of forgotten how good some things can be. Of course, midway through eating my first burger in over a year, I also remembered that putting on weight likely wouldn't be the huge issue it is for girls. I'll still have to exercise, but Benny tells me that his body always responded pretty well to reasonable effort, whereas dropping weight as Jordan took sustained work, so I probably should be okay.

If I'm still at "B&G" (the very minimalist name of this upscale-ish bar and grill) in five years, then something has probably gone wrong. It's serving its purpose right now, though.

-Benjamin / Annette

Tori: I'm The (Wo)man

I know I go a long time without posting here, and I hope you can understand the reasons. One, in comparison to those who are posting, my life is incredibly dull. Two, I decided a while back that I didn't want to dwell on body-swapping drama. I check in now and again but I go weeks without reading what these good people have to say about themselves. I felt like I needed to step away from this blog to complete my transformation, from Cliff, to Tori the past victim of the inn, and now to Tori: kick-ass bosslady.

Even in my old body, I didn't have much ambition. I wanted to do something I was good at, fixing other peoples' technical problems, be paid a respectable wage while doing it, and hopefully just subsist. And that was pretty much the plan as Tori, too. After 2013 was spent hopping from one dating disaster to the next (and the ones that weren't were just duds) and pining for a guy I couldn't have, I buckled down and started to develop myself as a person.

In my last post, months ago, I mentioned a friend I had in another department, Chuck. He's my best friend at work, a handsome go-getter with a beautiful wife and infant son. Sometimes it's a little painful to think about, with him being unavailable and all (what's that cliche... all the good ones are married or secretly using you to further their conspiracy?) but if anything having a friend like that has been really healthy for me. Seeing his success kind of made me want to do more for myself.

In March, he found out he was being promoted out of his department. There wasn't really anyone ready to take his place, so he told me that if I took some business courses to improve my resume, my knowledge of the company would make me a shoe-in. This from IT, usually a pretty dead-end department.

I guess I should call him my friend with benefits. Improved health benefits, you pervs.

It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. IT is what I've done for nearly a decade now, it was my identity as Cliff and as Tori, it was... a leftover, I guess. I enjoyed it, I was good at it, but getting out now looked really attractive when the opportunity came up. Who I am, as Tori, is not somebody who stays in one place forever. And definitely not because that's what Cliff did. I know that now.

It required three weeks of night school: not easy, but no big deal when you think of some of the other things I've had to learn over the years. It was nice to learn something really new at this age. I may not be a corporate shark, but I feel like I could take control of a situation now.

I start tomorrow. With a huge pay increase and a position of some actual authority.

I'm almost tempted to second-guess it. Knowing that the Agency, those weirdos who rig the Inn for fun and profit, have messed with my life (and the lives of people I care about) I have to look at stuff like this with some suspicion. But if I can't appreciate opportunities when they come around, well... how am I ever going to do anything with my life? It's been a while now, and I think they - whoever they are - are basically over me. I sat down and thought hard about it and decided it seemed very unlikely - not impossible but not likely - that this fairly benign promotion was a point in some conspiracy to get me (or other people) back to the Inn.

(Knock on wood...)

The whole thing has me excited and scared. Wish me luck.

PS. More things to talk about, but they don't necessarily belong in this post. Mwah.

Cal / Angie: Enough is enough

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"See something you like?" he quipped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tori: Woah hold on.

Here I am, complaining about boy troubles, and all of a sudden I get an e-mail.

It's from my old employer. Offering me a job.

Alex -- or whoever looks like him nowadays -- is leaving his job. And he's recommending me for his replacement.

I'm just... floored. I don't know what to think.

I would so love to go back there. Get out of my rut, get my life moving again. But I'm suspicious... whoever this person is, he's probably mixed up in the same stuff George/Alex was, and I dson't know if I can trust him. Can I just take this offer at face value? What does he know about me? What does he expect me to do?

Should I go talk to this person and find out if he's on the up and up? Could it possibly end well?

I'm suddenly very dizzy.

Tori: Keeping happy

I'm comfortable. I could complain a bit about my financial state or the occasional rocky period in my relationship. I vented a bit in my last post about how Alex didn't want to move in together yet and this somehow tied together with my mind which was all messed up with baby-crazies.

I love him because he likes me. I don't want to be "a girl" about this and start looking for things to go wrong, because we're not getting married (honestly, the stress of having a wedding just sounds awful to me. Sara just put hers off until fall.) At this point, if I'm happy, all I need to do is keep him happy, so if this is all he wants, I can handle it.

It's been some work. I've never been with someone this much for this long. Never shared so much, never made them this big a part of my life. Less and less, that one thing he doesn't know about me seems like a big deal, but it won't go away completely. Some nights we'll be in bed and I'll think "If only a woman loved me this much when I was a guy..." and it's hard to imagine how, after all this time, I'm so comfortable and yet still clinging to past regrets. I would have loved it then, but what I have now is superb so I don't know why I'm complaining.

Every so often, Alex will ask me if there's something bothering me. I try to brush it off and tell him things are fine. And they mostly are: I'm happy with my body. I have a guy to wrap his arms around me, and even if we don't live together, he's still somehow usually here to watch me try on four different outfits before going out. I swear after three years I'm still not an ace at dressing myself in a hurry, but most girls aren't even after a full lifetime. Undressing, on the other hand, I can do.

Luckily, I don't have to spend too much time picking an outfit in the morning. Black pants. White polo shirt. Nametag. I'm the girl who sells cell phones in the mall. I'm trying to take a little pride in this position, because even if it's not corporate, it's still tech-related and appeals to my interests and skill set, but I have no delusions about why I was hired. I'm the eye candy. Given a chance, most guys would rather talk to a pretty girl about their cell phone plan than anyone else working there (not to say some of my male co-workers aren't attractive, but I doubt most of the male customers care.) But it's embarrassing sometimes, because my male co-workers have this perception of me having been hired for my looks and not knowing anything about phones. And there's a lot to keep track of, with features and plans, that sometimes when I stumble or need to be helped out, it feeds their perception of me as "dumb hot (blonde!!) chick." Eye candy.

I've worked retail as Tori before, but that was in a garment shop. The only people I ever talked to were women. I wasn't the hottest one there, nor the least knowledgeable since when I became a girl I was obsessed with finding out the differences in types of fashion.

When a guy screws up around here, it's no big deal. They just laugh it off. But because I'm fighting my reputation, it's really stressful, especially because I haven't had a lot of time to get good at it yet, only working two or three shifts a week. To say nothing of male customers admiring my chest while I'm trying to explain the savings of a 3-year smart phone contract to them.

Sorry for the rambling post, anyway. Sometimes I worry about leaving off on a post like my last one, where I seem like some crazy girl, and I wanted to reassure you guys that things are actually going good. Routine with the BF, stress at the job, but good.