Jordan/Yuan-wei: My (Ex) Boyfriend's Back (to Normal)

You know what's kind of fucking disturbing?  I know that Jacky's recent trip back to the Inn (I guess at the same time Jenn became Paola) is the first in a series of events that is probably going to play havoc with my life as Yuan-wei, but my biggest question is when I became such a goddamn feminist?

I don't think it was in just the past week or so, although I kind of shrugged off the naked text Jacky sent after the change.  He was naked and erect, but whatever; I imagine if I'd gotten my dick back after a year as Deirdre, I'd have been pretty excited.  Hell, I'd probably be pretty excited if it happened tomorrow.  Especially since whoever the last Jacky was, they kept him in good shape, maybe not quite like Benny did as me, but that a high bar.  It wasn't like a picture with just a dick, and good on him for still feeling good about his body after the other perspectives he's been getting.  I sent him a thumbs-up, meaning congratulations.  He asked what I was up to that weekend, I sent a shrug emoji ("I don't know"), and went back to whatever I was doing.

Fast-forward to the weekend, where I'm trying to clean my house and there's a knock on my door.  The camera shows its him, so I decide too be mature and talk to him, because all this shit can do a number on you and make you make bad decisions.  I buzz him in, not really thinking about what I'm wearing (crop-top, shorts, flip-flops) until he's looking me up and down.  I look back a bit - I haven't had many boyfriend's, but I've learned from real girls that there's no shame in trying to see how they've done without you, and also trying to see what some time thinking he'd be stuck as Bingbing has done to his taste in clothes, grooming, etc.  Tough to tell.

"So," I say after offering him a beer, "got any secret intel on why Chen-ai decided to pull up stakes and run now, besides the protests?"

"No, fake-me quit the job and deleted everything.  Hell, I'm going to have to buy a new laptop when I get home and already got a new phone because he went at them with a hammer.  Maybe there's some hardcopy back in Hong Kong, but he seems pretty thorough."

"Fuck.  Chen-ai is going to screw me over somehow, I just know it."

"Yeah, but look at the bright side - your new mother probably won't care if we're together or not!"

I stopped, right in the middle of reaching for a bottle in the back of the bottom shelf, then straightened up.  "Wait, what?  Are you serious?"

"Hey, I get that you broke up with me because of all this weird stuff, and Chen-ai being in the middle is scary.  I was mad for a while, but now that I see how it can mess with a person I won't hold it against you."

"You won't hold anything against me?  I'm sorry, when all of this went down, which of us told the other person what was going on, and which of us kept quiet about who they really were and fucked their ex's brother for a year?"

You'd think he would have anything to say, but he did.  "I was just thrown into all of this and he seemed--"

"Dude, you know what?  I don't care why you did it.  I'm just not gonna be with someone who did, especially when they're gonna be on the other side of the fucking planet getting into who knows what.  I'm sorry, maybe it was just an extreme situation, but we're not going to be like that again."

I put the bottle in my hand on the bar counter between us, not sure what else to do with it.  It gave him a reason to step forward.  "Well, how about one for the road, just to make sure it's all in working order?"

What. The. Fuck.  "Holy shit, are you serious?  No!  It wasn't my job to make sure you feel like a man when we were together, and it's definitely not now!"

"C'mon, you owe me that much!"

"Dude.  No."

"You want it - look at you, you're totally DTF."

"Are you serious?  I didn't really think you were coming - it's just a hot day and I had some sweaty work planned!  Plus, how did you spend two years as a girl and not figure out they don't ever owe someone pussy access?  Was Max just such an incredible, always-around boyfriend that things never got uncomfortable with anyone?"

His hand tightened on the bottle a little, and I worried that maybe I had pushed it too far, counted too much on him being able to see a woman's point of view and not enough on his brain not having been flooded with this much testosterone for two years, but he relaxed a bit and pulled it toward himself.  He took a drink and seemed to calm down a bit.

I exhaled.  "I think you should go."

"Yeah.  I, uh, just thought maybe things could go back to normal."

I spook my head.  "Sorry."

He nodded and went out the door.  There wasn't any calling me a bitch or some colorful Cantonese equivalent under his breath, but I still paid attention until he was in his Uber and driving away, and let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

I brought Annette's contacts up on my phone and was starting a text, but decided I wanted to hear her voice, so I hit the call button.  She answered, probably figuring this was some sort of emergency, and I told her about Jacky's visit.

"Wow.  Are you okay?  I haven't had many scary boyfriends, but there's always a guy or two."

"Yeah, it's just...  I was l kind of attracted to him because he seemed like me, you know?  Same hobbies, told some of the same jokes without prompting, doing the same sort of work, and--"

"Jordo, I love you, but you do realize you were the same sort of asshole, right?  Like, I heard you yelling at people while gaming as Deirdre, and who was that girl at the beach you said you were going to hate-fuck if you became yourself or Benny instead of Yuan-wei?"

"Tina Chen.  Fuck, I haven't thought about that in years.  Shit, was Jacky always like that without me seeing it?"

"I dunno.  It's tough to guess how a guy's going to handle being told no.  He didn't seem the type."

"Okay, now tell me when I started being the chick that lectures guys on that consent and agency shit?  I thought I was the fun bitch!"

She laughed.  "Oh, you are, but I've been a good influence!"

"Thanks a lot!"

"You're welcome, and congratulations on reaching the point in the story where, having learned how women want to be treated, you wake up from this weird dream a better man, confusing everyone around you!"

"You're a weirdo, you know that?"

She said she did, and then we started talking about her new job, apartment, boyfriend, and all that.

It got me spending a little more time looking in the mirror after slowing and changing to go out, though.  I always say that's still me, just in a sexier package, and even when I'm putting on lipstick or a push-up bra or whatever because I want guys to look at me, I figure that's kind of just biology too, but, shit, how much of the guy inside has changed over the past few years, and what would I be if I was suddenly myself again?

-Jordo

Valerie: Friends Without Benefits

Of all the people to talk to about my dating situation, the one I looked forward to the least was Rafe.

Rafe is back at the shop after an extended time away. Somehow he heard about my hanging around with Kevin, and somehow he got the idea it was any of his business.

"So Chickpea, I heard you got ghosted by Silvertop."

I told him he heard wrong, that Kevin and I were hanging out regularly as friends... with no benefits.

"And he's not trying to get laid? That's weird."

Now, part of me agrees but I would never let him know that. So I tell Rafe it's sad that he doesn't think men and women can be friends without sex, which I also happen to believe (moreso now that I'm a woman maybe than when I was a man.)

"I don't think it's impossible," Rafe shrugged, "I mean, I like to think you and I are friends. But then again, we've already had sex."

"Don't remind me," I grumbled.

"I never heard any complaints," he smirked. I felt a little queasy at that, not the least because it's true and he knows it. It especially stings that I've basically been with nobody since him. But I know he's just trying to push my butrons. Puts me in a no-win situation - either I lose my cool and seem like an uptight woman, or I play along and encourage it.

Understanding men doesn't always help you deal with them.

My girls are more understanding of the situation, to various degrees. Maddie thinks it's cool, but she has specifically said she "ships" me and Kevin, so she holds out hope. Charli is skeptical - I wouldn't say she's a manhater but she is definitely one to question everything that comes out of a man's mouth, so despite his apparent honesty, she sees the possibility of ulterior motives, or just, I don't know, some kind of desire to mess with my head.

Ariel, oddly enough, is the one I've talked about it the most with. She's the one who has most tried to get the sense of my feelings - am I really okay being just friends with Kevin? Teaching him to cook, going on outings to markets and stuff, playing out part of a relationship without ever truly fulfilling it? Am I setting myself up for pain? Am I settling for staying in orbit around a man who, by his own admission, can't love me back, as a way of avoiding trying to find something real?

Am I hoping for something, that I can "break through the shell" as a commentor put it?

I don't know.

I do know that, despite what he's told me about himself, I feel a connection. We've had long talks, had some really cute moments. I made a conscoous decision not to push him away after what he told me. I wanted to show we could get along and I could be in his life without expecting anything. But it hasn't  een wothout challenges.

You know, I think I'm still a little guarded around guys, which probably didn't help my case on the dating scene. I want reasons not to like them and I don't want to try to make them like me. But with Kevin the feeling is very natural. We "vibe." It just stings that being around him kind of gets me worked up and then, well... there's no payoff.

We took a weekend trip upstate. He had a  business meeting and I invited myself along because I wanted to get out of town and see the area. That obviously seems frought, especially since we stayed at a Bed and Breakfast - and you know my history with cute little Inns. But it was nice. We stayed in separate rooms of course.

I imagined we were in Maine. We wake up as different people and suddenly all his baggage melts away and we begin a new life together. That's a rotten fantasy. The man has kids. A life. And I have my own commitment, a commitment to myself to stay as Valerie for good. But I'm not doing much as her except fretting over boys and it's making me crazy.

And besides, I should know well enough that your baggage doesn't just disappear when you get a new body. As far as I'm concerned it only gets bigger.

-Valerie

Daryl/Magda: Home Alone

I've always been a little wary of people who seem to define themselves in large part based on whatever relationship they're in, which sure must seem a little strange to people reading this, because I literally wouldn't be who I am now if not for being with J.T. and I talk about that a lot because this whole thing is a great but unexpected part of my life with a lot of unexpected details.

And having what I've got with J.T. makes it a lot easier to accept and be who I know myself to be.  It's just...

Well, nobody has a straight career path these days, especially for people like J.T. who know they're going to be jumping from project to project.  Even leaving the Inn out of it, he went from acting on TV to the stage, where people said he had more talent as a singer, so he did that, which led to him getting another job in a play, and now that that's closed, he's booked a four-episode arc on a show shooting in Toronto.  It's not quite back where he started, and his next thing could be anything, but it's a good job.

But it's in Toronto, and leaves me feeling weird and lonely.

He's been out of town three days, and as much as I don't want to be the woman that's all about her boyfriend, I find myself wondering if maybe I am and it makes everything else feel really unnatural.  I get home at the end of the day and clean off my makeup because there's not much reason to keep it on, and without J.T. around it doesn't feel like I'm getting enough layers off.  I look pretty good for a fifty-ish woman, but I've got to confess I've already skipped one trip to the gym.

We'd had an idea of maybe using this time to secure an upgrade so that the age difference isn't quite so striking to outsiders, but even if you know who to talk to, there's kind of a long list of people looking for "younger and prettier".  That whole side of the Inn subculture is kind of gross, when you come right down to it - I don't really think it's like buying and selling people, even if the language can sort of go in that direction, but it can sure feel like a really thorough form of identity theft, even if you verify that the people who originally led a life are giving it up willingly.  J.T. suggested I look at it as next-level plastic surgery, but even that seems creepy.

Anyway, nothing came up, so I've got another fall and winter as Magda, who has to be more than just J.T.'s girlfriend, especially since I don't have a lot of Inn crew nearby.  Pete's someone else in Massachusetts, Jenn hasn't sent new contact information, and Tylerie...  I don't know about her.  Sometimes she just seems like she wants to just act like she's always been Val, sometimes it seems like we just don't have anything to talk about, and sometimes she will say or do something that reminds me that there's a guy from the South who knows his way around a gun in there, and that I wasn't always Polish.  He's never actually done anything to make me fearful, but the stuff that burrows deep into your head when you're young doesn't leave just because you've got new skin.

On that note, I don't hang out with June/Jonah much anymore.  He seems to be acclimating pretty well, which I guess is what school will do for you - even if he was a year older than the other freshman, it was traveling to see the world, and between his own experience, reading the social media and diaries Krystle kept, and just having the confidence to bullshit a bit, he kind of made himself cool.  Too cool to have time for this middle-aged white lady.

So I guess it's time to start actually being one, every once in a while.  I've at least managed to be friendly with everyone at work, so it's not too weird when I finally say yes when someone brings up a girls' night.  Accepting the invitation feels weird - I've spent so much of the past year using J.T. to basically be myself despite looking like Magda, that actually hanging out with other Magdas is very unnerving.  But, I figure, it's not forever - I so plan to get some of these twenty years back next summer - so I might as well give it a try.

-Magdaryl

Jenn: The Easy Way Out

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Besides, I might be too busy with schoolwork.

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

Best,

-Jenn/Paola

Jenn: Back to the Inn Part 3

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

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

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

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

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

It didn't stop me from crying though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He said to try.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you mean?"

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

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

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

"What are you suggesting?" He asked suspiciously.

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

Jordan/Yuan-wei: Half a World Away

Been a while since I checked in, but I guess that happens to everyone - at a certain point, you are Jordan Lee Yuan-wei, recent college graduate with a job in the visual effects industry, and the fact that you used to be Jordan Chang, male and five years older, is less important on a daily basis.  Especially with my parents doing their best to act like I was born this way.  It was weird to get earrings for Christmas from my mom, but I'm not complaining.  Even though becoming a girl hasn't made me really into jewelry, that's her accepting a lot.

Of course, I don't may have one mother now, and Yang Chen-ai has been anxious in recent weeks.

I know that not many Americans have been following the news out of Hong Kong (this country has its own issues to fill all your worrying about the world going to hell needs), but it's something I get asked about a fair amount because I'm from there as far as anybody who doesn't know about the Inn is concerned.  What's going on scares the shit out of me, to be honest, because there's not a lot of scenarios that don't have Lee Yuan-wei going back there for more than a visit at some point, and I'm scared that it's never going to be close to the place I know again.

On the one hand I don't know if Chen-ai really cares about that.  Maybe she does; even evil people can love their home, though I think she's mercenary enough to put up with anything so long as the business continued to bring money in.  On the other, well, she had had her husband killed with the intention of setting me or whoever else wound living Yuan-wei's life up for the fall, so who knows what else she's afraid of happening to her should China take more direct control over Hong Kong and start looking into things that had previously been ignored.  It's enough to spook her, enough to get in contact with Bingbing and hint that if she would like to go back to her real life, that could be arranged, if Chen-ai were to become her.

I'm almost angry that she said no, for a bunch of really fucking stupid reasons.

I suppose all of you that read this blog because you, not having been to the Inn, see it as a weird or kinky fantasy saw this coming, because it's the most dramatic way to fuck with me, but it turns out that the person who has been living the life of Chen Bingbing for the past couple years is, you guessed it, my ex-boyfriend Jacky.  The one I broke up with because Chen-ai promised to ruin our lives if I didn't.  Who then, apparently thinking that I wasn't upset enough by the whole state of affairs, proceeded to fuck and then get involved with my brother without telling either of us what was going on.

The whole finding out deal was weird - I guess Jacky found out that Chen-ai was sleeping with whoever was living his life (he was working as her personal assistant), figured that meant he was never going back, so came clean to Max.  They didn't immediately break up, but he told me, and...  Well, the whole thing felt gross, and for a while my brother and I weren't talking, but eventually he met another girl and decided he didn't want to be in a relationship that wasn't just about the two people involved.  Jacky/Bingbing graduated from college this May and went back home to HK, and we'd kind of figured that was it.  I wanted that to be it.

I asked him what he wanted, and while he said that he had come to accept the idea of being Bingbing for the foreseeable future, it wasn't like he'd put down roots, and I can testify that the call of "how things should be" is damn strong, even when everybody thinks they're probably better off.  So who am I to tell him that there's probably some major league catch?

It's got me stupidly distracted, though, to the point where people are noticing at work.  I can tell them that I'm worries about folks back "home", but the truth is, they really don't give a shit; they just can't have our team missing deadline on animating a swarm of monsters.  so there's been a lot of overtime and I probably haven't been doing my best work.

And I don't get it.  I've always had it in the back of my mind that Chen-ai might decide to leave her old life behind and become a generation younger, I always thought it would be to become Yuan-wei.  It's just so much fucking simpler!  Has she stayed liking me enough to not want to mess with my life, or does she see some other way to mess with me?

Who the fuck knows?  This shit doesn't matter as much as the rest of what's going on in Hong Kong, and I wish it wasn't my first concern about the whole thing.

-Jordo

Jenn/Shona: The Mystery of Shona

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Valerie: The Art of Cooking

When I mused in my last post about not knowing what to wear for my date with Kevin, I wasn't kidding around. I was right puzzled by the situation and a girl like me really has to think hard about what kind of message she sends with her clothes. We were in uncharted territory. I had arranged a meeting that may or may not have been a date, with a guy I was maybe sorta getting to like, and who I thought kinda liked me. Getting the fine details right is crucial.

Luckily I have three roommates who are lifelong females, two of whom are quite femme and glad to help me play dressup.

In the years I've been a woman, I've reached a grudging acceptance that clothes make the woman. I was Judith after all, and Lauren before that. But as Valerie - as myself - I am free to dress how I see fit. I don't need to please clients or compare myself to other teenage girls. Mostly I work, and when I'm slinging coffee that means jeans (or yoga pants) and whatever top I see fit, usually a dark crew neck tee. I do have the occasional night out but it's not hard to fit the right mood: casual, fun or (more rarely) fancy. I don't mind being the most modest girl at the party. I don't usually want the attention.

Now I had to walk the line and I didn't even know where it was. In theory this was just a cooking lesson. I could go right from work and seem right in character. But I wanted it to look like I'd put some thought in. Maybe to suggest that I would be up for more, but not that I was planning on it. (See? For womwn fashion is practically a language. And they speak it to men without them even knowing.)

I've got this little black dress I've been itching to wear all summer. It falls just at the sweet spot midway up my thigh, and really showcases my chest in a tasteful way because it has a high neckline, uet managrs to a oid looking like a potsto sack. I bought it months ago but haven't had the courage, or a reason, to wear it out. If I wore that it would be clear what message I was sending: "Let's go straight to dessert."

Don't think I didn't consider it, but that's more of a third date outfit.

In the end I wore my "good-ass" jeans and a top that is a little more revealing than what I wear to work, with a deeper neckline. It reads casual, as if I might not know my tits are on display. Rest assured, with the bra I was wearing, I knew full well.

I also did my makeup more than usual and curled my hair. It kills me how men never notice these things, and we don't even expect them to. It's just to make ourselves feel like our version of sexy. I also wore nice underwear, on the off chance it came up. For the men's part, I remember sort of taking it for granted that women's looks just kind of fell together easily without so much dang work.

Arriving at his place, I felt more nervous than I have been for a very long time. I felt like I was crossing a threshold. All the dates I've been on since the beginning of the year felt more like something to do, with guys I could take or leave (and mostly left.) This was the first guy I was starting to really like, and my uncertainty about how he felt about me, my need to win him over, was really affecting me. He greeted me with an ambiguous hug. I leaned into him to try to put him - and myself - at ease.

His place was pretty nice, considering what I'm used to around here. I mean, having a place to yourself in Brooklyn is pretty much a sign you're doing well as far as I'm concerned. That was intimidating. I'm not as young as I look, but this guy had a whole "grown up" life that I guess I haven't experienced since being Judith, or even much before that.

It's oddly intimidating being around him, in a way. I'm so used to being in positions where I have more life experience than people. But this guy is older than me, and he's lived a life and matured in ways that even Kitty never seemed. Being around him makes me feel not just my age, but Valerie's, like I'm still a kid to him, even though I've lived five lives and seen and done incredible things.

He offered me a drink of wine. I thought okay, that's pretty datey, semi-romantic, right? Setting the mood.

I felt better once I started cooking. I didn't know his skill level so I thought I would focus on the basics - correctly cooking a chicken, with some seasoning and presentation. How to design an idiot-proof meal. Get him to where he can stop buying meals that come in a box, and just buy the ingredients for them instead.

We got to talking some. He noted my skill and comfort in the kitchen, and asked why I wasn't doing this for a living.

"Working in a restaurant? Eh, I've been there and done that. All kitchens are is just a bunch of douchey tattooed man-children sweating and swearing and pulling their cocks out for laughs. I kind of outgrew it."

He nearly choked on his wine from laughing when I said that. "I had no idea you had such a mouth on you!"

"Oh, sweetie I've been around!" I said, consciously more feminine language. "I may look pretty and delicate but I'm a tough cookie inside."

"Yeah? Are you secretly one of those tattooed sweaty guys inside?"

I grinned wide. "Oh, totally. That's me all over," I said in a tone that maybe sounded like a joke. I think I might have been blushing. Might have been the wine.

I switched the topic. We talked about his work, and his kids - why they live with their grandparents much of the time and not him. With some shame he admitted he didn't feel comfortable being a single parent, and wanted his kids to have a more stable upbringing.

I didn't ask, but he explained this much about his ex: "She got in some trouble a few years back, and the court had to... well, it's an ongoing issue."

We ate, and again he raved at the quality of this very basic meal. "You sure you don't want to get back into the food biz? Maybe open your own place?"

"I don't think so," I said, "Like, that just seems like another way to get me in a room with those guys I was describing earlier. The amount of work, money, sweat... hell, I don't even have the education necessary to be a chef."

"Don't you work for a catering company on the side? Why not start your own?"

"Yeah, that's more my speed, but I never thought about going into business for myself or anything."

"Why not? All you'd need is some investment money."

"Right, all those millions I have socked away under my mattress," I sighed.

"Well, I'm enjoying your work tonight," he said with a smile.

I told him this was nothing - wait until I make him some buttermilk friend chicken, with Hushpuppies.

"Oh, is this going to be a whole regular thing?" he said.

"If you want it to be," I said, trying to ease off the gas a little if that was what he was feeling.

"No, it's cool, very cool..." then he got a little distant. Like he was trying to work up the nerve to say something. It didn't feel impossible he was trying to work out a way to kiss me. I thought about lunging forward, but I... was very mindful of seeming to eager.

But he was being such a gentleman, really charming and warm, it only solidified the feelings I'd been having, and strengthened my resolve to pursue this.

He killed the bottle of wine between both out glasses. We moved over to the couch.

I decided to take a liberty and laid back and propped my feet on his lap. "Do you mind?" I asked, "I've been on my feet all day, and my back is killing."

"Really... back problems already? You're what, 25?"

"Oh, yeah," I said, "It's these things." I cupped my boobs. For a second he looked nervous like he didn't know where to put his eyes. I told him he could look - I know they're there.

"They're a pain in the ass," I said, really just venting off the cuff and barely realizing I was now openly discussing my boobs with this guy. "Ever since I got them. I've thought about getting them reduced but..."

"But what? Money again?"

"No," I said, thinking of the gift I got from the former Valerie back at Christmas. "I could swing that. It's just... they're a part of me. It's hard to explain. I hate them, but I... I'm not sure I'd still be who I am without them."

"That's ridiculous," he smirked. "You're more than a pair of..."

"I... really can't explain. I have a very complicated relationship with my body. The idea of doing something to change it like that is both... very easy, and very hard to contemplate."

What I as trying to say was, part of me wants to keep this body as close to how I found it as I can, and that includes the massive boobs, as much of a hindrance as they are. Objectively, it really only makes sense to go down several sizes. But I worry about losing touch with my conception of who I am as Valerie.

A weird silence hung in the air as we both tried to reckon with the fact that I had just stirred up a conversation about my breasts. I felt like maybe I was getting a bit drunk.

"Listen, I really appreciate this," he said tentatively. I could sort of read where he was going, but I stayed quiet in hopes I was wrong. "I should be up front. I didn't mean for things to go too far here, I didn't even realize... I mean, if you were expecting this to be something else, besides... well..."

He hesitated. I finished his thought for him. "This isn't a date."

He shook his head.

"You don't... feel that way toward me."

He stayed still.

"Val, you're really lovely, but I'm not in a place to pursue something like that right now."

"What does that mean?" I said flatly, trying real hard not to let my growing disappointment - and anger - show.

"I have some serious baggage. I'm not the man for you. I really need you to know that - it's me."

"I have baggage too," I insisted. "I have been through shit that, no disrespect, you couldn't even fathom. I mean that."

"Why, because your ex cheated on you? I don't mean to minimize that, but..."

"Bud, that's the least of it."

I was getting very upset that I couldn't play the 'I had my body stolen years ago ad had to learn to like being a woman - basically to get to this' card.

He took a breath.

"It's really not you. You're great. And you deserve a great guy. Ever since things went down with my wife, I... oh God, this is really hard to say, okay, so please, please bear with me...

"...I have completely lost interest in sex and relationships."

I looked at him probably very suspiciously. "You what?"

"I just don't want that anymore. None of it. I don't feel that way about anybody. I'm in therapy, and I don't know, maybe with some work I can learn to feel that way again, but... trust me, being with someone like me is the last thing a young person like you deserves."

I honestly didn't know how to take that.

I was still mad at the rejection even though it had nothing to do with me. I was hurt, confused. It was hard to process, and yet in the days since I have been able to understand it a bit better... after all, I've dealt with my own desires changing away from what I used to want, what I still wanted-to-want, to what my body, and my heart, really does seem to want. So why couldn't it go the same, in a different direction?

But in that moment I really didn't know what to say, so I finished my drink and shook his hand and offered an awkward hug, and called for a ride.

I was so upset. For days. And I couldn't even be mad at him without feeling guilty, because it's not his fault. But part of me did take it personally, did resent all of that, and was mad at him, and at myself for getting so invested in the possibility that someone so good would be interested in me. I've made my peace with it, but in that moment I sure felt like an idiot who worked too hard to make herself pretty.

Part of me still suspects it's a lie, even if the idea of a man lying to not have sex with a much younger woman seems absurd when you say it out loud.

In the end, I reached out to tell him it was fine, and I could be his friend and teach him to cook for his daughters and anything else he needed. And I felt like I meant it, but I'd be lying if I said my feelings for him completely dissipated.

-Val

Jonah/Krystle: Beach Body

Jordan's employers gave her enough time away from her workstation last week to get out and about, which meant a few pictures and videos on social media as she tried to learn to surf like a real California girl - she really seems to be having a ball!

After one which was just her kind of just lying on a surfboard in her bikini, leg dangling over the side, I DMed her saying I didn't know how she was able to do that with such confidence - Calvin had invited me to go with him to the beach for a few days and was a nervous wreck.  She says it's no big deal, especially if you've got something like surfing or whatever going on instead of just sitting there, and it's not like we didn't used to go shirtless.  Sure, I say, but it's different when you've got stuff hanging out rather than the bits that needed covering being safely in the middle of some baggy trunks.  She asks if I've been slacking off some we stopped going to yoga together, and since I got that message while changing for the climbing wall, I send her a selfie. See, she says, I've got nothing to be ashamed of.

Believe it out not, I'm inclined to agree.  It's taken me something like four years to really feel good about this body, but I'm really confident these days.  My boobs are finally back down to their pre-pregnancy size, which is not always easy to deal with, but I'm kind of forgetting what flat feels like.  I've also become kind of a gym rat, not just from climbing with Calvin, but also going with Momma Kamen - her doctor told her to make some changes, but because she's apparently been the type who prioritized looking after her family more than herself (and burned what calories she needed to by running after kids and grandkids), she won't think to hit the gym unless Klara or I go with her.  So we do - well, I do, mostly, with Auntie Klara watching little Moira - and now she's got a lot more stamina and I've got abs.

Not the sort of chiseled six-pack I wanted as a teenage boy, of course, but enough that I don't look scrawny.  My legs are really toned, too, and arms have some real definition.  I don't look masculine, and Calvin will attest that I don't feel that way (and, yeah, maybe getting a little better at the giving and receiving physical pleasure also has me feeling better about my body).  I've found a hairstylist who gives me a natural look that I like, and I've even started wearing the tops that show a bit of cleavage at work.  I guess feeling like I've made my body a certain way makes me a little more comfortable using it rather than hiding it.  I even got a kind of warm feeling when the original Krystle made a comment about my muscles being gross on Facebook; I'm never not going to feel guilty about taking this life from her, but it makes me feel more like myself and not an imitation.

So, like Jordan says, I've got nothing to be ashamed of, but I still get some anxiety around Calvin's successful white friends, and being more or less in my underwear didn't feel like it would make things easier.  But it has been a really hot summer, and the pictures he showed off the little cottage his family had on the Cape looked nice.  Completely un-cursed, too, although that didn't really enter my head until someone asked me when the last time I went to the beach was.  It looked like a good time, so why not?

It was a big surprise for Moira, who has never been to the beach before.  She wasn't thrilled with getting into her car seat - she's a city girl who expects to either be carried or in a stroller (or tries to run up and down the subway cars) and this thing where she gets strapped in and faces the back of the car while Mommy and Calvin are up front for an hour or more is some garbage as far as she's concerned, even if she does eventually fall asleep.  For as crazy as the terrible twos can make you, though, there are also the moments when you get her out of the car and take her around back of the house and her eyes go wide, and then she turns around and says "Mommy, it's a sandbox with no box!"  Then she runs to the water and giggles when it's cold on her feet.

In no time whatsoever, she's letting me change her into a bathing suit and excited about the bag of new plastic beach toys.  She's kind of impatient while I change, which gives me relatively little time to really fret about how even a pretty modest one-piece exposes half my butt cheeks.  Well, never I never complained about seeing that sort of thing before, and I could throw on some shorts if need be.

Moira loves the beach; she'll dig in the sand and splash and pick up the wet sand by the water and just throw it back at the ground for hours.  After a while we blew up a floatie and that, also, was the best.  Being part of that is amazing in a way that's hard to explain, and it made Calvin smile too.  My girl is amazing.

She crashed after a few hours, and I got a chance to stroll down the beach while Calvin tried to put the fire pit his father bought together.  The change from the city was something I didn't really know I'd needed, but the sound of the waves and them lapping at my feet was kind of beautiful.  Of course, during the summer, you're not really going to be alone, and a three-year-old crashed into me a few houses down.   His mom came over to apologize, but lot up when she heard my name.  "You're Cal's girlfriend!  He's said so much about you!  I'm Annalise; he's been my summer neighbor since we were nine."

We chatted for a while, until her husband came out and gave me a weird look, like I didn't belong in a place with summer neighbors.  I headed back "home".

Despite Annalise's skepticism Calvin did manage to get the fire pit together, and actually grilled some acceptable steaks and baked potatoes with it, though Moira was initially skeptical about his insistence that he burned the hot dogs he made for her on purpose.

After she went down for the night, we sat out on the porch, and I mentioned meeting Annalise, saying she seemed nice.  He said he had been looking forward to introducing all his friends the next day but Annalise was definitely the one to meet first.  I mentioned that, seeing as this was his parents' place, there seemed to be other people for me to meet, but didn't push too much.  He's meet Momma Kamen and Klara, but not my real family, so I can't really demand more.

I murat have looked a bit tense after that, because he asked me if something was bothering me as we went to bed, but that wasn't it.  This was the first time we were sharing a bed while Moira was in the next room.  He asked if that meant we should be quiet, but I pointed out that we'd tired her out pretty good.

When getting ready to go to the neighbor's the next day, I saw with a bit of dismay that I had spilled some wine on the swimsuit I'd worn the previous day, and with no time to wash it, that meant going with the bikini.  That one is bright green, tends to squish my breasts together, and has dangling ties that I was sure Moira would pull on in just the right way to get me in trouble given half a chance.  A pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt covered it up quick, and who knows, maybe I could just stay in that all day.

It was not to be; I made it a couple hours, but then Moira was like "come swim, mommy!", and you can only put up a fight so long, especially in front of other parents, so off comes the outer layer, and then it's time to ignore the jokes about "so that's why Cal's hooking up with a single mom!"

I try to smile like a good sport, making it about the work I've put in rather than what I've stolen in my head.  I say under my breath that people used to pay money to see this body naked so they're lucky to see this much for free, but not too loud, because there's no need for Calvin and his friends to think of me that way, especially when it wasn't me. 

It's just a couple people, though, and the kids make it easy to put that out of my head.  Annalise apologizes for the boys being idiots, and says she's jealous of Moira being so fond of the water - her boy is about a year older but still scared.  I say that's just Moira; she's generally fearless, probably from spending so much time around her cousins and trying hard to keep up.

It wasn't that much of a pep talk, but it's not like she knew I needed one or that I'd be watching her as we got out of the water and noticing that she walked around like wearing a bikini on a beach was no big deal.  I've got to admit, it felt kind of nice to actually feel the sun and breeze on my upper body, and I was able to eventually work my way up to running around or playing volleyball without worrying that stuff would fall out.

Without a nap, Moira crashed hard when we got back to the house, and so did I, which means we didn't have much time to talk.  Sunday wasn't really a big day for discussion either, as we went into town to eat at this clam shack that Calvin probably thinks is twice as good as it actually is because he associates it with summer vacation, along with some frozen custard that actually was pretty great.  Moira saw a kite in a shop window, so we got to discover that none of us know anything about flying kites before packing up the car and heading back to Boston.

Once Moira was napping, I turned to Cal and tried to give a playful smile that girls who don't have a bunch of impossible secrets wear.  "So, did you and Annalise ever hook up?  She was really nice to me but who you're dating seems kind of important to her."

"What?  No!  She's actually more my sister's friend, and that would have been weird."

"Uh-huh.  So, do they think you dating me is weird, or am I okay?"

"Like I care what a bunch of people I see one weekend a year thinks of who I date."

That was kind of nice to hear.  "Well, I'm sorry if I was weird.  I just feel like I don't know what to do most of the time.  Like, I want to be more fun, especially when we're out together, but don't know how."

He looked a bit uncomfortable.  "Is this because you and I, uh..."

"Because we're different?  Nah.  It's all me."  Am I bad for liking how flustered he gets when he has to stop and consider how being white and coming from a family who can afford a vacation home can put me on the spot?  Because I kind of do like it.  It makes me think he might do okay if he wound up at the Inn and had to live a different life for a while.

"Well, it just so happens that girls who love sports, don't know how sexy they are, and are great moms are just my type."

I smiled and laid my head on his shoulder, not sure when I really started liking the sound of stuff like that rather than playing along, and let him drive us home in warm silence.

-Jonah/Krystle

Simon/Joy: Professional Girlfriend

The title of this post sounds kind of disreputable, but it's kind of what I feel like some of the time.  I don't have a job, and a fair amount of what I've been up to this spring and summer has been traveling with Iain, or just going out with him for events where you're kind of expected to bring a plus-one.  There's enough of this stuff to do that we're out a couple times a week and not always nearby - that condo in London is not just a place he has because it's annoying to rent a hotel room, although given how few neighbors we see when we're there, it is for some other people in the building.  We've been there, and to Paris, Amsterdam, Brussels, and Copenhagen besides.  The travel and event schedule is just enough that even if I had the right sort of visa to get a job here, I'd be a terrible employee for all the scheduling leeway I'd be asking for because this can be the only way to see Iain for longer than it takes him to get up and go to work.

Which isn't too suggest he's keeping me around because I look nice in a dress, have excellent small-talk skills that he can't know have been honed over a couple of decades in sales, and know what a man likes in bed on top of that.  No, more and more I feel like he genuinely likes me and doesn't think much about how "Joy" is different than she was a few years back.  We have fun going out together even if it's not a work thing.

Not that some people don't occasionally notice.  We were having a sort of low-key night out on Saturday with some of his old school friends, who had apparently met her but not me, and someone made a remark that I hadn't been a whiskey girl in the past.  I shrugged and said I'd developed a taste for it, but this woman was weirdly insistent and annoyed all evening.  I asked Iain what was up with that, and he said that even if she were not a professional party planner, she had sort of been groomed as a hostess from a very early age, and apparently knowing the favorite drinks of your guests was a big deal, both for looking like you cared about them personally and making sure you had the proper amounts of spirits on hand.  Eminently reasonable - I still remember what a lot of clients favored - but it kind of rubbed me the wrong way that night (maybe it wouldn't have if I'd been drinking white wine).

"Is that my future if we stick together a few more years?  A mental file of how to properly flatter everybody you do business with and everyone else in the UK besides?"

"Nah, I figure that'll be my job while you sell the horses."

He said it as a joke, but I am kind of getting better at all the horse stuff.  I'm not really good at riding yet, but I'm finding that I really like it.  I've never really thought about how much girls liked horses, but they really can hit this sweet spot of being pretty, powerful, and (hopefully) not threatening.  Iain's family are breeders, so it's not like the horses in the stables were ever wild, but when you sit atop one, you don't feel small and weak and like prey.  Maybe that's not such a big deal to born women, but I definitely notice it.

I haven't quite reached the point where I ask Sir Robert if I can shadow him doing business; it would be really presumptuous with my not actually being part of the family, and as much as I'm okay with having that as a goal - women like Joy have been guaranteeing their futures like that forever and I would be a realist even if I didn't actually like Iain - it's not the sort of thing you can be too plain about.

Is that too "professional"?  I don't know.  Maybe.  Joy didn't really like this sort of thing based on her diaries, but those also make it seem like Iain wasn't too thrilled with them either, and maybe he's either learned to enjoy them more with a date who doesn't complain or he just grew up and realized this is how the world works, and maybe Joy would have too.  Or maybe she wouldn't have, but it doesn't matter, because I'm Joy now.

-Simon/Joy

Jenn/Shona: Trying

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I just don't know.

-Jenn/Shona

Jenn/Shona: How To Be Fat

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Excuse me while I cry a minute...

-Jenn/Shona

Valerie: My Friend

It began innocently enough.

I was having a rough day. One of those hot, sweaty, fast-paced, never-ending, "What am I even doing in a coffee shop in Brooklyn in the body of Valerie Stewart" kind of days. Everything was frustrating, needlessly aggressive customers, snide "real housewives" types, leering college boys... just everything that cold be thrown at me.

Then my saving grace. At 2:30 PM, almost right on cue, in walks Kevin, aka Silvertop. He gets his coffee, gives me his usual nod, and goes over to his usual seat by the window to read.

We hadn't talked much since I ran into him a few months ago at a competing coffee shop and had a really nice conversation. Just chitchat in passing - he keeps to himself, and I am usually pretty swamped.

Today, I needed to vent, and there was no Maddie or anyone around that I felt like I could. So I made like I had to go wipe down some tables and approached.

"Hey - mind if I sit?"

He looked up from his book - one of those weird nonfiction things he likes reading - and first seemed surprised and maybe a little confused, but he gestured in a friendly way.

We got to talking again, I started to go off on what was bugging me about my job and my life, and I got a few minutes in when he raised a finger. "Hold on, I just want to be clear on something. This is one of those conversations where you just want someone to hear you out, isn't it? You don't actually want me to try to offer any solutions, right?"

I smiled. "You've been married."

"Long time ago, yeah," he said bashfully.

I went on and on and honestly I don't even remember what I was annoyed about that day, but the underlying theme is that sometimes it sucks being Valerie the Coffee Girl.

The next time I saw him, he asked how I was, and I said fine, and he eased me for giving a generic answer, so I elaborated on some things that were not fine.

The time after that, I must have gotten him talking about his life - about being a divorced father of two, a small business owner, just generally getting his perspective on things. I'm always wary not to take up too much of his time, because he's reading all these books because he enjoys them, not because he's waiting for someone to talk to, but he still lets me chat him up for ten or fifteen minutes during my shift.

And then somewhere along the way we became friends.

I had already kind of looked forward to seeing him, just because it was nice to see a friendly face. And then when we start talking, I thought, it's nice to have a guy to talk to - as much as I enjoy inhabiting the world of women, there are ways that I still feel excluded, where I feel like I have to fake it, where having the complete matching set does not make me a true woman underneath.

But to Kevin, I'm... I don't know. A nice younger woman, someone to keep him company. I gave him my phone number and told him he could text me if he wanted to, and the second I did that I thought, "Oh, shit... what am I hoping to get out of this?"

I mean, I really screwed myself up a little bit. Without realizing it I had developed like, a really serious crush on this guy. And it's so weird, because yeah, I've crushed on guys before - specifically Ryan, but if we're being honest it goes back to Josh and even, way way back, things I didn't want to let myself feel for Phil when I was Lauren. But it's different because this guy is... well,  different.

He's older than my real self, he's experienced, he's smart and funny. He has kids! It's weird that I should find myself interested in him and entertaining the notion that he might be interested in me!

I'm trying to play it cool - honestly I'm trying to completely pack it away, because he hasn't really indicated that he thinks of me that way, and I feel silly getting my hopes up.

But during our texts he mentioned oh, I have my daughters on weekends and they're getting really tired of chicken fingers and spaghetti. I reminded him that I cater sometimes and have a few cooking tips and tricks up my sleeve... any interest in learning some of my techniques?

He said sure and asked if I was free Thursday night.

I am.

It...  it feels like a date, right? This is suspiciously datey.

I couldn't believe it. I wasn't even sure I wanted to do anything, it just fell out of me, and when it was out, I only halfway wished I could take it back. It just felt weird, because I haven't ever really pursued a guy this way. As Valerie I am so accustomed to being pursued that it never occurred to me that I might like someone enough to make the moves on them.

It's almost annoying that I have been the one to push for him - like, hello, can you not see what's in front of you? But that might be what's so appealing to me. The idea that he might be a little immune to my looks. I like that.

I... am very nervous. Surprisingly so. I don't know what's coming next. At least I have a few days to figure out what to wear...

-Valerie

Jenn: Back to the Inn Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jenn: Back to the Inn Part 1

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


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

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

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

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

Was her family missing her?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I had no idea.

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

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

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

Harmon Keller/Alicia Polawski: Internet Famous

Jordan is extraordinarily lucky that my current rotation does not take me to LAX until July at the earliest, because I would be sorely tempted to murder her and then escape to Maine, allowing whoever winds up as Alicia next to deal with the fallout.  For all that being this absurd parody of womanhood has been a constant series of humiliations, this past week has been the most ridiculous.

As you may recall, I stepped in to assist Jordan last year when she required assistance in finishing her student film after her star quit, though I did not truly replace her, but rather played all of the duplicate robots that she would have played.  They were more or less mindless automata, so my work was mainly a matter of standing around in tight clothing and heels well taller than necessary to make up the height deficit with the average man or to appear tastefully fashionable, enough times that Jordan could combine the images.

It was technically impressive work, I suppose, although as somebody who knows all too well that her inspiration for a film in which a man's brain is placed inside a robot shaped like an anatomically-correct woman was not, as many would presume, about an ex-boyfriend who needed to learn a lesson, I cannot much disagree with her professors who apparently found it slight and somewhat juvenile.  It has not been picked up by any but the smallest film festivals, and not getting the best position in those.  This was something of a relief for me as I decided to remain Alicia for another year, and I soon paid it no mind.

Then, yesterday, as I arrived back at the "crash pad" after a flight from Dallas that had been delayed for hours (a delay for which the attendants are not paid!), I heard howling coming from the living room, and with the intent of telling the flatmates to keep it down, I poked my head in, only to see in horror that they were watching "I, Fembot".

I try to back away to write a furious email to Jordan, but I'm seen.  "Guys, she's here!"  Someone hits pause and then all four cluster around me.  "Why didn't you tell us you had a side hustle?  This what you were doing during your leave of absence? "

I took a careful half-step back.  "No, I was just..."  How to explain talking with other people who had lost their identities thanks to a cursed hotel?  "I was using the director's spare room - one of those services - and she had a panic attack about the other girl storming off the set, saying she'd step in herself but she would need far too much padding.  Well, stepping in to help was the only decent thing, although if I'd seen the costumes..."

"But that's the best part!  You look so hot in the outfits and it's so you to just go making guys horny without giving a shit!  Because even if they're programmed to respond, you know the sex-bot doesn't actually care."

"I hardly think that's an accurate--"

"Oh, c'mon, look at you on Insta!  Racking up the followers with all the selfies but never following back, barely responding unless someone comments on the museum or whatever you're in."

I groaned.  "I've told you, I don't take those pictures for 'followers'."

They arched their eyebrows and gave me variations on "sure you don't", but it happens d to be e true.  The only follower, or fan, that actually matters the slightest bit is Daryl, who finds it useful for me to have a social media presence when somebody asks "Magda" about her daughter.  Other than that, it's simply a convenient way for me to have some record of my time as Alicia after I finish it.  I cannot see myself becoming sentimental about this anatomy, but I cannot deny that the opportunity to travel has offset the job which requires it somewhat.  With this application already on Alicia's phone, and sharing the default, it should be a simple matter to extract that which I wished to keep.

Obviously, there was no point of explain that to the gaggle, so I just repeated that my photography was for myself and what others thought of it was irrelevant.  Then I said the shower was mine, ignoring the shouted question of whether a brain in one of those robots would have PMS or cramps simulated the way arousal was, because they wouldn't stick their boyfriends in one otherwise.

The shower was useful; though the Inn has made my body more resilient than it had been for some time, I had been on my feet for some time and just an hour in Texas can make you sweat in a way that sticks even under the perfume and deodorant.  Washing my flatmates' crude comments away was a pleasant enough side benefit.

Afterward, as I say wrapped in a towel, brushing my hair, Alicia's phone buzzed with some notification, and it reminded me that I had set Instagram notifications off, as I did not intend to interact on the platform (and, indeed, most of the messages it notified me of were just men saying how life-changing intercourse would be for the pair of us).  Out of idle curiosity, I brought the program up and looked at my statistics.

I had 20,000 followers.

They came in waves, it appears - some when Jordan "at-ed" me as he put his short online, but I apparently got put on lists as well, from the obvious ("flight attendants of Instagram") to the bizarrely, specifically hostile ("bitches who think they're too good to follow back but ain't all that").  It's more people than I've had students, quite possibly on a par with the number of people who have read my books or attended my presentations at conferences.  For doing little more than taking photographs of myself.

I looked in the mirror and wondered what a picture undressed would do to all that.  It almost seemed to be worth the experiment, just to see, especially since any reputation that came as a result would fall upon someone else in a few months.  If a younger person becomes the new Alicia, she might even find an account with thousands of followers a positive.

As an economist, I find the idea intriguing, creating something of admittedly illusory value from nothing.  The other side, though, is that it could wind up like Jordan's film - harmless enough at the time, but something I shall have to live with until I no longer have Alicia's face.

-Harmon Keller

Valerie: Why am I crying??

Safe to say I've cried more in the last 5 years than the whole rest of my life before that. Maybe I cried twice after the age of 12 prior to visiting Maine and becoming Lauren. Then it was a while before it happened, and I don't even remember what was the last straw, just an accumulation of things. Hormones played a part, for sure, but overall just not seeing any point in fighting it and bowing to reality - that for whatever reason I wanted to cry, and it felt good to do so. Then once it happened it happened with some regularity as my body took that as an acceptable response to a tough situation. Bad day at school? Guys being pricks? Seeing Meghan/Tasha with Wade? Just flat out feeling small and weak? Waterworks. I learned to embrace it. Occasionally I even cried for joy but not often.

I cried as Alan, too. When Meg and I fought, when we broke up. It feels different as a man. A form of shame that I had moved past as a woman, as if that body was rejecting what my mind was trying to tell me an understandable response to a hard situation. It felt physically worse to cry as Alan than as Lauren. It was pain.

I didn't cry when my father died, but I did feel bad, in my gut, mostly for Carrie, who loved him more than I ever could have, and knew a different version of him.

I cried some as Judith, out of frustration with Kit or raising Dylan/Olivia, or feeling like I was doing a bad job, but things were more stable and that helped. For all Kitty's faults in how we did not work together, she-he understood my situation and was there for me.

It's become something I understand about myself, how I'm different than the man I used to be. I didn't cry, wouldn't have liked crying and, for all my hardships I never felt I had much to cry about.

Since being Valerie I have been through the wringer, but even notwithstanding that it's been a lot of tears. I cried when Josh treated me good, because I didn't deserve it. I cried when he treated me bad. I cried after oursupposed wedding, and for weeks afterward when I wanted to just stop being Valerie already. I've cried when I was lonely. I've cried when I was tired. I've cried after sex - Rafe caught me only once and to say he did not know what to say would be an understatement.

When I determined I would be Valerie forever, I cried, and again when the original Valerie officially became Cynthia. It was like finishing a decathlon. My body felt too exhausted to do anything but sob.

Since then who knows what might trigger me. I get daily reminders that I am living a life permanently and it's not always good. I am stuck like this. Most people don't even know there's an option to go change into someone else. I do and I have vowed, essentially, to never do it again. So the world throws it in my face that I am a 5'0 single young woman with 32G breasts who works in a coffee shop. That it may not be possible to find and fall in love with someone who sees me for who I am. That my back is so sore from just existing I can hardly sleep, and when I do I can barely let myself move. MY shoulders hurt too, my neck, legs, feet, ankles.

That I was on a nearly year long cold streak of dating and sex, not always by choice. That I have an opportunity to do anything with life and I'm not. That I can hardly do anything with my hair. (Okay, that's a joke.)

I don't even have to be having a bad day. I had a really good conversation with a guy earlier and when it was over I was surprised find myself blinking out some teardrops. It was like my body knew something I didn't. Sometimes if I cry for no reason, a few days later my period will arrive and it will all make sense.  I invent reasons to have cried after that - not knowing my body perfectly even after two years. Anything. Whatever. I'm crying writing all this!

I cry because I can cry.

It's not like I'm constantly crying all the time, some kinda broken woman. I'm just surprised sometimes at how much I do, and what makes me do it, and that it usually feels right.

When I say I've changed, I don't just mean because I know what it's like to have a period or actively pursue dating men. I have seen things that Tyler Blake, as I knew him once, could not have processed. I react to situations differently. I'm stronger and better and more caring. I know more about the world and people and a myself I have a better experience of life, even if I'm just a coffee girl for now. What I had to give up to learn all that, and to meet myself as I currently am, all seems minuscule even if it's not. Going back to the Inn, somehow becoming male again... I'd like to think that wouldn't have erased all of that, but I could never have taken that chance. I have to be this.

It makes me stressed, especially at this part of the year, when the opportunity is present. I weep over all the other lives I will never live. Ain't that crazy?

And I cry because for better or worse, deep down, I'm still me. Now those are happy tears. I cry because despite all my stresses and frustrations I like my life, my body, my friends. I'm a lucky, and happy, woman! Go figure.

-Valerie, aka Tyler