Jonah/Krystle: Game Nights

I wasn't exactly a jock in high school, or otherwise really in a position to call other kids nerds or dorks - I was, after all, the kid going to extra church - but sometimes with Calvin and his friends, I feel like maybe I should have been?  Like, I know that I'm actually five years younger than all them, but sometimes I kind of wonder when they're going to grow up.  I guess it's a bit of everything, in that they're all white and never really had to worry about certain things, and how I jumped straight into adulthood from the middle of high school and then had a kid and I guess stopped having a lot of time for frivolity.

I mean, Game Night.  A bunch of folks in their mid-twenties getting together to play board games, and, like, not even "drink a shot when you get sent to jail in Monopoly" varieties.  One of Calvin's friends orders stuff from Germany that is apparently going to be the next big thing among tabletop enthusiasts here.  It's insane, but I feel like I'll be letting Cal down or looking like some sort of b---- if I say I don't want to go, I sound like a snob, and can the black single mother really afford to sound like she's too good for these folks?  Especially when I've got a while bunch of what Penny calls "Impostor syndrome" going on?

It's not that I don't have fun at these things, so much as how you get to doing them kind of bewilders me.  I feel like I just grew out of board games, or like they're something Little Moira is going to be growing into soon, and I haven't had time to get nostalgic and try to rediscover them.  I felt kind of silly asking Ashlyn not to schedule me to work every other Monday and even sillier asking Momma Kamen to babysit because this is my "grown-up time" with a boyfriend rather than a toddler.

On top of that, Calvin was hosting this week, and somehow that meant I was responsible for snacks - "we" were, but, well, you know.  And because it's important for some reason that I impress these people despite never having learned to do much more than heat food up, I got myself into a panic a week in advance.  I set off the smoke alarms in the apartment trying to make cookies, and maybe cried a little I told Moira and she said "ye work in a bleedin' restaurant and the owners like your fella".

So half an hour before everyone else started to arrive, Ashlyn showed up with two trays of dip, one with peach cobbler, and a bunch of tortilla chips  I thanked her with promises of overtime and handing out menus, but she said not to sweat it, that we all had different challenges in our new lives that we didn't see until they were right on top of us, but that I should remember I'm only dating Calvin and not his friends.

Easy for her to say; she didn't have any of them staring daggers at me because I'd only managed "vegetarian" rather than vegan with the second tray of dip and honestly couldn't tell the couple for who that was an issue whether there were egg whites or any other sorts of animal products in the cobbler.  I didn't have a great night as Calvin's partner, either; I swear someone got a bunch of "stuff Jonah doesn't know" Pictionary cards, and during Settlers of Catan I had no idea what expansions he had and therefore what we could do.

At the end of the night, I waited for him to sit down and then flopped onto the couch beside him, laying my head on his chest.  "Why is having fun so stressful?"

He laid a hand on my belly.  "Because you've got this silly idea that you need to prove you're awesome."

"It's not silly, and I don't have to prove I'm awesome, just that I'm not a screw-up.  I've disappointed so many people."

He leaned over and kissed my forehead, and then I leaned back a little more so he could do it again on my lips, and then his hand was on my back and I turned around so he could pull me in and there could be tongue.  One of his hands went to my butt and I let it, while I felt the muscles of his back.  The little part of me that says I shouldn't be making out with a guy was blowing its whistle but I ignored it, laying back on the couch and letting him stale me while one hand went to a breast.  I pulled him in a little, just close enough to feel that he was hard, which made me break the kiss and scoot back a bit.

"Sorry," he said, "it just happens."

"Believe me, I know.  It's just--"

Maybe there's a bit of disappointment on his face as he anticipates me saying that, but despite all the talk on that subject, I don't think I noticed any.  I actually found myself thinking "don't be stupid!" because I could feel myself turned on all over and thinking what am I going to do, run to the bathroom?  So I took a breath and said "it's just that I really can't have another baby right now.  You've got to be really careful."

A big grin spread over his face as he reached in his pocket and pulled out a condom with something about extra thickness on the wrapper, did my best not to look away as he put it on, although I may have taken a little longer than necessary in pulling my dress up over my head.  I suddenly felt really naked and vulnerable in just my bra and panties, though also kind of wishing I'd worn fancier ones.  Still, I was able to put myself in his place, pulling my panties down and letting him, well, you know.

I kind of don't know what to think of it.  It felt good, because he knew what he was doing a lot better than I did.  I mean, I didn't just lay there like I did when I got knocked up, but I didn't really know what I should do!  I felt stupid for not having done anything when I was a guy, or all the things I knew I shouldn't do but which would have left me feeling less ridiculous in that moment.  He said it was okay, I was just out of practice, and I just thought about how it was a good thing that if never let on just how much practice I figure Krystle had before I took over her life.

I talked to Ashlyn about it a couple days later and she started to laugh before apologizing, saying she figured it must be even weirder than usual for me.  Then the next day she brought in a couple of DVDs, saying that unlike most porn, most of what was on them would be fun for both of us and most of it wasn't "too advanced".  I was mortified and kept looking at my purse like it was going to catch fire the rest of the night.  I've seen R-rated movies and all, but never anything like that!  I was almost relieved that there was never a good time to get them out of the back of the drawer I speed them in over the past week.

But now Momma Kamen is out for the night and I've got another date with Calvin tomorrow, and Little Moira just feel asleep.  I really don't want to study how to please a man like this - I can't help but think of the time my dad found the magazine a classmate had stuck in my backpack and what the thought of his son learning how to make a man come would be like for him - but I kind of have to, if not for Calvin, than for the man I eventually marry.

Still...  Why is having fun so stressful?

-Jonah/Krystle

Simon/Joy: Highland Girl

I actually did it.  Everything that the original Joy ever owned is gone.  A lot of it went to thrift stores, some of it went to Treena, and the rest is in her parents' basement, but by the time I left San Diego, there was nothing in my bags that I had inherited from her.  This may seem like a silly thing to do, but once it was done, I wondered why more people who wound up in a new life long-term without the original person planning to return because of the Inn don't do it. 

Admittedly, it's not exactly financially great; purges don't bring back enough cash to replace what was gone; it maybe only really works when you're going to be traveling light and moving in with your rich boyfriend.  Still, there's a bunch of really silly stuff that goes with wearing someone else's clothes and sleeping in her bed and maybe having pictures of the girl with type current face doing things you never did on the fridge.  Like, what am I supposed to do when Treena smirks and says I'm wearing Joy's lucky panties?  And the time I've spent fiddling with her devices because she had some screwy preference that returned every time her phone rebooted.  It just feels good to have all that be mine now.

But wait, you may say, weren't you focusing on traveling light so that you can move in with Joy's ex-boyfriend?  And, yeah, I see where that come off as hypocritical.  But it's not like he ever mentions stuff he and she did very often, and I feel like the fact that he's been visiting me for the past year, so that it's mostly me choosing where we go and what we do, I feel like I've been making him my boyfriend rather than hers.

I don't mean I've been deliberately trying to change him or anything, just kind of bringing out the parts of his personality that are more in line with mine.  Some of it's guy-inside stuff, like being a little more reluctant to give head, or maybe spending an afternoon at a game rather than a nature walk or whatever, and some is just me not being girl-next-door-y in the same way.  Like, I'm not going to resist when he wants to take me to a nice restaurant or spend a couple hundred bucks on a bottle of wine, or anything like that.  I'm not gold-digging or dropping hints or anything, just not saying no or being embarrassed when life offers me nice things, and maybe she would have felt the same if she'd returned to this life after spending the better part of a year as someone else.  That she didn't is all the reminder I need that life isn't always generous and you should take what it gives you.

Although even I must admit, the castle is a bit much.

Iain's family doesn't live in an actual castle - it's not made of stone with turrets to shoot arrows at invaders or anything - but it's a pretty sizable mansion, with an enclosed courtyard, a dining hall that can accommodate a lot of people, a ballroom, and stables that I'll get to layer.  I showed some nice places to guys that had money to spend in California, but even the really nice, old ones, I'd be giving some sort of spiel about what the servants' quarters had been converted into, whereas this one still had servants living there!

Maybe more staff than family, at times.  Iain has an older half-sister, who herself is married with three kids of her own, but they live in Ireland and mainly visit around the holidays, and a younger brother who is attending school in Boston, and a few cousins who have rooms in the house to call their own - a few of them are around at any given time - but most of the time it's him and his father, plus the butler, cook, stable-master, and now a nurse.

One of the benefits of not really being Joy is that I don't remember Sir Robert Mackinnon as he was before the stroke, and as such I apparently didn't come off patronizing or pitying the way that a lot of old acquaintances do when they see the wheelchair or hear him slur his speech a little.  He's still sharp, especially when you get him talking about his horses or something else where he can get excited.  I think we've even started to bond a bit, since I'm around the major a little bit more than I'd originally expected. 

As much as being the live-in girlfriend of a rich young man sounds, it gets kind of boring at times, but getting a job in a foreign country is a kind of chicken-and-egg thing.  You can't get a job without the proper visa, and they won't issue you the visa without a job lined up.  It may go a little smoother because Joy's parents are English, but that doesn't make me a citizen.

So I kind of hang around, the staff kind of resents me because they're not running a hotel, and I try and figure out what to do next.  I would occasionally wander by the stables, and one day last week Sir Robert was there, arguing with a trainer.  The horses, you see, are the foundation of the McKinnon family fortune; they've been breeding them for decades if not centuries, but it's not something Iain and his siblings have particular interest in, and Sir Robert is apparently a canny enough businessman to recognize that diversifying the family's holdings is a smart idea.  It makes him a bit sad, though, so he seemed to be heartened by my interest, asking if I'd ever ridden.  I don't know what Joy would have said, but it's not exactly something I could fake.

He was a bit disappointed by that, but got a little happier when I started to show interest in the business.  In certain crude ways, it's a lot like what I was doing before the Inn, if you consider breeding akin to a custom manufacturing process and horses a short of durable good that certain clients might need, whether they be in the racing business, farmers, or even a couple of police departments.  Sales and contracts are...  Well, it's interesting, though he doesn't necessarily seem to think a young American girl like Joy would be interested in anything but the pretty horsies.

He seems keen to foster that interest, if only because maybe me being interested would get him interested, but didn't think much of it until I got back from doing a little shopping and had the butler, Weathers, intercept me and say there was a parcel for me from "the Master", which means Sir Robert (Weathers trends to call Iain "Mister McKinnon").  Curious, I went upstairs to find a garment bag with a riding outfit in it - boots, jacket, little cap, the whole deal.

Of course I tried it on, posing a little in the mirror.  As much as I've grown used to being Joy by now, sometimes I surprise myself, and seeing Equestrian Barbie made me giggle a little, both in delight and kind of ironically.  It wasn't hard to imagine where this could go, me as lady of the house, riding on the weekend, going to events with Iain, looking modest when he says that I'm not just a pretty face but actually run the family business.  Ridiculous, I guess, but what did I come here for if I wasn't looking at that as a possibility?

Gotta learn how to ride first, though.  First lesson with Iain tomorrow, weather permitting.

-Simon/Joy

Jenn/Zack: What's next

If it's been quiet around here, it's not because we haven't been busy. We have to be, since even in Jersey, rent isn't cheap. I have been busting my ass to get referrals for my mediocre photography, which has gotten off the ground thanks to Alexa -- having an absolutely gorgeous woman linking you in her Insta posts really does a lot for your profile.

In celebration, Alexa and Ryan invited me and "April" out to dinner at a restaurant Ryan knew - a real up and coming hipster place. Pete didn't want to go, knowing how crappy Ryan had been and that he still hadn't been caught, but I was insistent. I didn't want to feel like a third wheel, and I still have trouble relating to guys as guys - in mixed company they're not so bad but if I have to have a one-on-one conversation with Ryan it's likely he'll say something that turns my stomach.

Plus, there were certain thoughts that I wanted to avoid having when Alexa is around.

Honestly, it's been hard to process, because when I'm around her, my hormones go off like a neon sign saying "YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO THIS!" But I get a churning feeling in my gut because I'm not a guy and if I'm lucky I won't be much longer so there would be no point in pursuing someone like her. Or anyone. Plus, she's with Ryan, even though he doesn't deserve her. And when I see them together it just pains me.

I had hoped that being "in character" with April would distract me enough, but really, compounding a secret with a lie just turns out to quadruple the negative feelings. I was constantly wondering what my body language was saying, if I was staring too long at Alexa, not looking over at April enough., if I was "passing" as male with Ryan, while simultaneously feeling the urge to fight him.

Ryan asked n innocent question about our relationship, April and Me - asking about how the last time he heard about me, I was dating that older woman. I tried to wave it off as jut a fling (and not let on that it involved a serious heartbreak) and that April, who in cover story I was with for years, was my true love. But it was hard to say those things and mean it.

Pete looked lovely, taking the opportunity to make himself very pretty and sophisticated, wearing beautiful earrings and a silvery, low-cut dress that he said was the nicest thing April owned and that he didn't think he'd get a chance to wear... any guy would be lucky to have a woman like that on his arm. I wished I could have appreciated it but I was far too distracted.

Pete deserved to be congratulated too. He had found a new job in short order, unsurprising based on April's resume and his own capabilities. It's a short-term contract too, which always sounds like such a ripoff but works out perfectly since it ends just as we are supposed to be going to the Inn this summer.

After we parted ways it was a long ride out of the city. Now it was Pete's turn to seem distant and distracted. I asked what was wrong.

"Well, I'm a little let down," he sighed. "I shouldn't be surprised, and I'm not taking it personally or anything, but... I kind  of thought this would work."

"What would?"

"This," he said, gesturing to his body, his dress, his hair and makeup. "Its... a lot, don't you think? Put a lot of work in here. I know I can't compete with Alexa - hell, if I was still on the guy side of the equation I'd be eyeing her all night the way you were. But I thought maybe I could draw some of that attention for myself."

He sighed. "It's stupid. I feel like an idiot for... thinking... anything, I guess. It's been a long time since I liked anyone as much as I like you, Jenn. I'm a romantic at heart, but just like you, I care too much to trick anyone into being with me while I look like someone else. The only shot at happiness either of us has is with someone like us."

I was shocked. We've been getting along well as "housemates" and really enjoying each other's company... I guess I just thought that was where it ended. But I appreciated that he was being open and honest with me.

I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind. We're two people of compatible sexes sharing a space. I've seen "April" in all but the fullest state of undress, gotten familiar with his habits and quirks, shared jokes. It has been a little bit like a relationship - the settled, later parts. It's just that, after years with David, maybe I was hoping to be swept off my feet again. Or sweep someone off their feet.

I took my time in crafting my response as a long silence fell between us. "I just think..." I said, treading lightly to be sure if this really was what I thought, "If we're only... you know... together... because that's the easiest, or only option... is that healthy? Don't we deserve better?"

He smiled - oh, wow, how that smile lights up a room, if I'm being honest - "This has been a hreat month for me, Jenn. What could possibly be better than this?"

He touched my hand. Those soft little fingers on my rough ones.

I felt warmth inside me.

My heart started beating faster.

I wanted to kiss her right there and then.

Why... why not?

I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers. I hadn't kissed anyone in a little while, and I haven't kissed anyone new in a long while - I mean, technically, when I kissed David as Lena for the first time that was someone new, but this was something else.

I can't deny it was better. Whether because, on a shallow level, I'm more attracted to April than I was to Lena (who had beauty, but you know, the age thing and being my first "woman",) or because I was just so excited for someone to be thinking of me that way again... it was long, and hungry and passionate before we knew it.

We made out all night, and when we weren't making out we were talking like old friends, unburdening ourselves in ways we hadn't yet in all the weeks we'd been living together. I didn't know if it would just end up being one night of passion, or something more, but my eyes felt opened for the first time.

"So, does this mean," I asked around 3 AM, "I can start sleeping in the bed?"

She flashed pink-red: "Let's just take it one step at a time, okay? We have months."

Fair enough, I said...

We did fall asleep in each other's arms, though, sitting upright in a position that felt comfortable at first but left me sore in the morning.

I had left my phone in the other room. When I checked it in the morning, there was a long text from Alexa.

There was a bit of preamble, but essentially it was saying how she's never had a guyfriend like me before, and there she's starting to wonder if there's something there - a better connection than she has with Ryan. She says, she hates herself for thinking it but maybe I feel the same way and that's why I seem so indifferent about April.

She said she was sorry for putting it out there if I didn't feel the same way, but she couldn't get it out of her head.

My heart sank at that... talk about terrible timing.

-Confused Jenn

Tyler/Valerie: Smile

I have I can't tell you how many interactions with people all day behind the counter of the coffee shop. They complain to me about the quality of our baked goods, about the weather, about it being Monday. They might make some remark they really think I'll like, or be bold enough to make a remark that could be construed as flirty. For the most part I try to keep a politely neutral expression on my face. One that says, I may not be thrilled to be here and I'm really not here to make friends, but I'm not going to bite your head off. Wecan talk for the five seconds it takes to foam a latte, whatever.

Some people are better at service than I am. Maddie is a perky burst of energy. Rafe can be chummy and bro-y at the drop of a hat. The new kid, Devin, is very upbeat. I'm personally not so good at hiding my real feelings.

You would think - being a transformed person, who has lived other peoples lives for years, faking things comes naturally. But maybe that's actually why I am so averse to it. I want my inner self to come through. And if she's a little blah most days, it's not without reason.

I at least know I am providing my best service whether I'm smiling or not. Me putting on a false face, I have to believe, doesn't improve my customer's lives for eve the 30 seconds we are face to face.

When I have something to smile about, I smile. Some days I come in in a good mood, some days Maddie and I have danceoffs (she wins - I just awkwardly shuffle my body like any rhythmless former-guy with ungainly boobs.) You know, whatever. I smile when I'm happy.

You know what I'm getting at here. The number of times I've had some guy say I should be smiling - and it's always a guy - I can't count. To this day I have no set response to it. Usually, if I think I can get away with it, I just don't react. If I'm lucky I can brush it off and go to the next customer. I've had one or two guys get indignant when I've taken this approach and hiss at me about what poor service I'm giving. Sometimes I play dumb, like I didn't hear them and see if I can get them to feel embarrassed. Sometimes I even will myself to flash a smile, but I always feel disgusted with myself afterward.

Universally, it makes me feel gross. I was a man, and I know not every many goes around saying stuff like that, but it doesn't really make me feel great about the totality of my former gender to see how widespread it is. Or to feel how small and powerless and objectified it makes me feel. Being leered at is one thing - I'm worth looking at, and it doesn't inconvenience me too badly. But to be latched onto by men who want to "see me smile" just feels so sinister and wrong and makes me feel like they see me as "less." It's a reminder that to a lot of them I am less - a target, a prize, than a human to be engaged with.

Yesterday, when it happened, I tried my usual brushoff. I wasn't having a good day. My hair was being uncooperative, I was feeling certain physical ailments I never dealt with before being a woman, I was just annoyed at the world. So when this guy drops his change into the tip jar - a whopping 15 cents - and I don't smile and say thank you, he gives me this glare, and says, "Hey, not even a smile? What's the matter with you?"

I could have gone into a whole thing, but instead I gave him the fake smile, and said, "Oh, thanks." He was big and bald and honestly looked like he would take a swing at me even thought I'm five-foot nothing and female. I was too scared to try anything but go along. It's one of the worst feelings that comes along with this life.

He reluctantly accepts this, muttering under his breath as he walks away with his coffee to go sit down.

So here's where it gets screwy. We have this regular - Kevin. We call him Silvertop because he's a  little older, prematurely grey, handsome like Anderson Cooper. Well, more salt-and-pepper but whatever. He comes in every day, reads for an hour or so, then leaves quietly. I like him, generally.

He gets up and he goes over to the guy. "Excuse me," he says, "Did you just tell her to smile?"

"None of your business, pal," says the guy, who looks like he would wreck silvertop in a fight.

"That's just incredibly rude," Kevin goes on to say, "You can't just say shit like that to random women. It's 2019, pal."

"Step off," growls the other guy.

Kevin won't relent. "I'm just saying, you don't know her story. Who's to say she's got anything to smile about, just because some stranger threw a quarter her way? Why don't you think about other people for a change?"

Big Guy stands up like he's going to start a fight, but to his credit, he just leaves the shop, staring daggers at Kevin the whole way. I'm watching this unfold and I'm feeling... angry.

"Hey," I say sharply.

"Yeah?" Kevin answers back.

"Don't do that."

He looks at me for a while, then asks, "I was just trying to..."

"Well, I didn't want you to, okay. I don't need you to swoop in and tongue-lash every asshole who comes in here. Have you seen this city? That's how you get stabbed."

He looked like he was going to defend himself a bit more, but then he caught himself. "My mistake, I'm sorry."

Then he sits back down and goes back to his book.

I spent the rest of the day in a huff. I told Maddie about it, but she didn't see the big deal - she'd love to have some guy defending her, especially someone like Silvertop.

"It just feels like two sides of the same coin," I said, "The first guy thought I owed him a smile. The second wanted to seem like a hero for rescuing me."

"He was just being nice!" Maddie protested.

Charli got it better, which I guess befits her background. Not that she's a manhater per se but she's even more wary of them than I am.

Still, I spent the rest of the night first wondering if I was too harsh, then getting re-annoyed with myself for thinking I could be too harsh. It's been a while since I've mentioned it but my "natural speaking voice" in this body is like an animated kitten. Even when I work to lower my register I still sound pretty cutesy. It's annoying.

I did wonder whether I should apologize. He has always seemed like a nice enough guy, quiet, keeps to himself, his intentions were good enough. Maybe I had a valid reason but there's also a ton of baggage I bring to situations like these.

The next day when he came in, he gave his order. I gave him a smile to try to convey... an apology? The idea I might have been wrong without fully admitting it?

"I'm sorry again about yesterday" he said unprompted. "It was presumptuous of me to step in. Way out of line."

"Yeah, well" I said steeling myself to give a rare apology, "I shouldn't have jumped down your throat. I was really just... misplaced anger and stuff. Really, it was a decent gesture."

"Well, I was chastened," he said, "And you spoke your mind. I respect the hell out of that, even if I'm on the other end of it."

I appreciated him saying that.

I have to admit, the unwanted attention this body beings frustrates the hell out of me, because I can't seem to turn it off. It's one thing to doll up and draw attention to yourself, but when you don't feel comfortsble standing around looking plain and average because guys think you should be happy and perky and perfectly groomed at all times, it wears on you, makes you resent life. Ironically, it doesn't make me want to go back to being a man - it makes me want to be a better woman.

--Val

Jenn/Zack: Mope

When I left off, I had broken up with David and, immediately afterward, been told that I was not getting my body back. Not this year at least, but I might as well consider it a life sentence since nobody ever seems to get back to normal if they miss their first chance. The asshole in my body couldn't even go a year without turning my home into a meth lab, so I know I can't rely on them. I might as well consider that a lost cause.

I've been in mourning. It feels like every day I think of some new thing I'll never see again. My parents, my brother and sisters, my grandmother, my cousins, my family dog... my old job, my co-workers, the clothes I liked wearing, my hometown. Now I'm screwed, doomed to wander around through life, always pretending to be someone else. I feel like I have no purpose, except to keep Zack's life ready for him. Nothing matters anymore. Nothing feels like "me."

I'm mad at David for not telling me, as well as basically breaking off all communications. It's just as well since in this state I've been missing him and dying for something comfortable and safe, even though it would be a mistake to go back with him. The further I get from him the more the details of our relationship seem like a nightmare. As Lana, he had so much power over me but it wasn't enough.

Pete has been so helpful. She's been there and she seems to have a lot of patience for my mopiness. Pete has a gentle soul. Pete has "been there" in a lot of ways and can guide me through what I'm dealing with.

Which makes what happened next feel that much worse. That asshole David had the balls to fire Pete/April two weeks ago.

You can't tell me it wasn't personal. Pete has been above and beyond the call of duty for April's position, basically doing the job of an executive while officially only being an EA. There are other VP's but they are subject to Lena's directives, and those directives have been coming from Pete.

When Pete told me, she put a brave face on it. So much the better - April was officially overqualified, and with Pete's brain and her CV, there was a good chance this was a great opportunity. They've been collaborating, long-distance, over what kind of jobs April is interested in applying for, since she's the one who will end up doing it. We can't afford to make it through the spring unemployed until we go back to the Inn.

It just provides more reason to be livid at David, that he would pull a stunt like this. Somehow there are no laws to prevent this, since at-will employment is a thing and even though it's so nakedly personal there's no recourse Pete can take. It's just David screwing himself because he doesn't like Pete and doesn't like that he is helping me out.

I'm angry, and sad, and lonely all the time and I want this experience to end.

-Jenn

Tyler/Valerie: Girly

During parts of my life where I've been physically a woman, I've had an annoying recurring dream where I'm walking down the main street of my hometown in just my underwear. I walk past people I grew up with while they catcall me, yelling out obscene shit like "Nice tits!" "Where'd you get the panties!" "Shake that ass!" and such. I wake up feeling ashamed and bitter. Just terrible that life worked out in such a way that I now live like this. It makes me not want to get out of bed in the morning, let alone do my hair and make-up and get dressed and face the world as this.

Let it be known - I've come to like doing my hair and make-up. I'm free to slack on them, of course, but engaging in girly shit makes me feel, well, girly, in a good way. Which is important, because this is a girly body.

Let's talk about how hard it is to dress myself. Pretty much my only options are to wear something form-fitting that shows off my body, or something frumpy and baggy that may be comfortable and warm but makes me look like I'm in a potato sack. I have no choice but to acknowledge to the world that I have big boobs, round hips, and a butt that is admittedly on the flat side but still feminine. And the shit I get from the world if I choose to downplay my looks is honestly not worth the savings in time and effort. So, you win, world. You've girled me up.

I like the girly stuff, not because I ever did before, but because I've come to see it as part of being me. And no matter who you are, no matter what it takes, you can't beat the feeling of looking in the mirror and knowing the person who is looking back is the real you. However far you are from the way you started.

All this estrogen has had a transformative effect on my brain, and I'm not just talking about being willing to do something like what I did on New Years. I'm a lot more conscientious of, well... everything. I see an ad for skin cream and I think "Hm, my skin has felt dry lately - must be the weather, maybe I'll pick some up." Something that wouldn't have occurred to me during my time as a man. I also think maybe it's made me more sensitive. Charlie was sick last month, and even though we still hadn't really broken the ice, I made her soup and tea and stuff.

As to why I would have dreams knocking me down a peg, it's probably because I go through a sustained period of feeling okay about my situation, and then suddenly my brain wants to correct itself and go "No, this isn't right, you should be a man, being a woman is wrong." Tight clothes, makeup, hairspray, all wrong. Lip balm, wrong. Period, very wrong. But there's nothing I can do about it, and on balance, nothing I want to do about it.

I think what spurred these bad dreams was actually... dating. After things didn't pan out with Erik - I ghosted him, but he also ghosted me, which left me feeling oddly annoyed (what, no "thank you"? Was I not good? Does he think he can do better?) I nearly texted him but I had to remind myself I didn't like him that much, so I went on the apps.

It sucks out there. My whole line, to Pete or Jenn or anyone who asks is, I'm not actively interested in dating women, but man I miss it. I have never met a guy I liked as much as the women I dated. I went out with three guys in January and February and they were all kind of boring. They were guys who work day jobs in offices who message every reasonably attractive person they see, and I just picked the least objectionable ones.

They were full of themselves, they prattled on and on about their work, and, because I, as Valerie, am not really in the same place in my life as them, seemed not to acknowledge my observations. I was beneath them, I was more of a pet, an object, an adorable little accessory to be talked down to. And that was when they bothered to let me into the conversation. They would go on and on and usually casually reveal their cockiness, their sexism, their obliviousness to other peoples' feelings or lives.

I got invited back to all three apartments and I declined all three times even though I would like to find someone to have sex with. I didn't feel particularly attracted to them - it's so crazy how I never know what's going to, uh shall we say, light my fire. I have a few regular customers I have openly referred to as cuties, so I know I'm at least into something, but one is tall and broad-shouldered, the other is short and thin and kind of boyish, and honestly I don't think he's conventionally attractive. And don't think I haven't thought about breaking the ice there, but when you work with the public there's something to be said for keeping your relationships professional.

I was venting about all this to Charlie, of all people. When she was sick, and I helped her with stuff, we started to bond. She loves "straight girl tea" and openly drips acid all over the idea of me having a lovelife. She says I fascinate her, because I seem like such a vanilla, nothing-happening straight girl on the outside, but there's "clearly" more going on. If she only knew.

"Sometimes I wonder about you," she said with a glint in her eye. "Are you sure you're completely straight?"

I smirk, this is oddly the conversation I've wanted to have with her for months, even though I'm about to say things to her I probably shouldn't. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course. I'm all about that," she grinned widely.

I take a deep breath, "I've dated women. Years ago. Waaay in the past."

Her jaw dropped and she leaned in closer. "Anything serious?"

"One or two, yeah," I said. I could feel myself getting oddly cold as I edged toward the truth. Maybe this was a mistake.

"Why did you stop?"

"I... it's very complicated. It's not who I am anymore."

"I see. You met the guy who left you at the altar. You straightened out for him, and now you're worried your gay card has expired."

"More like, I let it lapse," I said.

"Uh huh," she nodded skeptically, as if this was not possible (and maybe in her world, it isn't.) "Well, I've got to say over the past few months I've noticed some weird things about you. Like, sometimes this 'normal vanilla good girl' thing is just an outfit you're trying on and it doesn't quite fit."

That stung a little. Any reminder that I'm not totally passing feels the same as those dreams. Like salt in the wounds that even if I embrace womanhood, it doesn't always see me as one of its own. But people take so little notice of others that it never seems to come up. And what she was saying was theoretically admiring (from her standpoint) but it came across as a critique. I got quiet.

"Don't tell Maddie, okay? She doesn't need to know."

"Oh, of course not," Charlie nodded. "Because then she'll get all weird, worrying that you and I might hook up. Or worse, you'd try to hit on her."

"Right..." I said, a little saddened that that might be Maddie's take on the situation.

"She made me promise I wouldn't try to get with you. Well I guess you don't need my help. But I still promise not to knock on your door some drunken night."

"Thanks," I said, "Same here."

She laughed, then coughed and sneezed and snorted in an adorably disgusting way. "Let it lapse!" she hooted, bringing back my term from earlier "That's hilarious."

Later, when it was my turn to be sick, she looked after me, then when Maddie was sick, we let her boyfriend take care of it, although I'd be lying if I didn't say there was a part of me that thought I could be doing a better job.

-Tyler/Valerie

Jenn/Zack: What the HELL???

Breaking up with David was the hardest, most gut-wrenching process of my life. It took days of fighting and negotiating and going back and forth endlessly on text and e-mail and in person.

Before pulling the trigger, I had to make sure my bases were covered - since I have been cohabitating with him and basically using Lena's bank account as my sole means of support, I first contacted Pete and confirmed that he would be okay if I crashed on his couch until I got on my feet. Then I started lining up potential clients for "my" photography business, which was a little feeble but it was better than nothing.

I spent days mentally rehearsing my arguments, trying to figure out the most direct yet delicate way to bring it to him. The hardest part was figuring out when to initiate the breakup, since if I waited for a heated moment, an argument of some sort, I risked getting distracted. I wanted us both to be clear-headed. And I hoped that we could walk away with no hard feelings.

I don't know how well I have described David, but that really was wishful thinking.

The moment I got the first line out of my mouth ("David, we should talk...") he went on the defensive, disputing everything, insisting that if there was a problem it was me, and I was a mooch and making him do all these awful things like live as a woman and "enjoy getting f*cked like one" as if I'm in any way responsible for anything he did or chose during his time. He insinuated that we wouldn't be breaking up if I had been the woman and he the man (possible, but irrelevant) and that I really just wanted to go off and "enjoy my c*ck" with some other "b*tch" like "that tr*nny Pete." He told me to go, I was more trouble than I was worth, that he didn't love me either, that I'd regret leaving him, etc etc.

I grabbed my stuff and left for Jersey. I spent the night crying on Pete's couch while Pete - bless his heart, tried to console but really lacks the feminine touch she aspires to. David called the next day apologizing, saying it was the heat of the moment, he was blindsided, etc etc. I told him I wanted to end it on good terms so as to not jeopardize any of us getting our proper lives back, and he said not to worry about it. And I said "what do you mean" and he says... get this...

He tells me that the people in our bodies were arrested months ago for selling meth out of our apartment. They're forbidden from leaving the state of Colorado for eighteen months. Apparently he hadn't decided what he wanted to do about it, so he didn't tell me. What, was he just going to let us transform into two complete random strangers and pretend he had no idea it was coming? Or...

Weeks passed. I grieved, I screamed, I cried, I sleep-walked my way through a few photo sessions including a very concerned Alexa, who could tell I was upset about something ("Bad breakup" probably didn't cover it, but was all I could say.) David disappeared. Even PEte didn't know for a few days where he was, until he turned up on Instagram, back in Florida, laughing it up with Pina Coladas in a way-too-revealing bikini.

So now I'm like, what, does he like Lena's life? I mean, there's a lot to like about it... wealth, respect, and yet the freedom to go be a jerkoff on holiday whenever he wants. Is he planning on stealing that life? I don't know - I'd like to think the man I was dating isn't capable of that but honestly I'm starting to feel like I never knew the real David.

Meanwhile, poor Pete is caught in the middle. When David found out I was staying with him, he threatened to fire him outright, but Pete pointed out that this was a bad idea - that he was the one keeping the company together and the only one protecting the incompetent "Lena" from a very frustrated board that has seen the company's direction plummeting over the last three quarters. Pete is very eager to hand April's life back to her, and Dave needs his right-hand woman.

I reached out to April and Zack to give them a head's up that David might be planning something really scummy, but gave my assurances that Pete and I had no such ideas. It was really hard to read their response, which was a cold acceptance, that as far as David-Lena goes, things are out of their hands.

So... there's the drama I've been dealing with lately, sorry for not posting more! Honestly, it's gotten me so worked up just to recap it, I need to lie down. I don't know what's going to happen to me. I wake up every day nauseous as to what's coming. I'm not built for this, I just want my life back!!

-Jenn, "Zack"

Harmon Keller/Alicia Polawski: Social

At some point, I should have thrown the mobile phone that I inherited from Alicia into the Bay, or at the very least deleted all of her accounts and started new ones.  Perhaps not at the outset, when one might assume that Alicia would be seeking to return to her life without disruption, but certainly there was no need to preserve such continuity once she decided to remain in her new life.  By the time I decided to tolerate this existence for another year in order to find one more suitable that has not been damaged by another's stewardship the way my own had, it had become sadly convenient.  When I need to coordinate something with co-workers - and, later, flatmates - they tend to prefer using "WhatsApp" rather than a straightforward voice-mail or text message; on top of that, enough people at the airport remember one Magda or another and ask about her that it is worth regularly glancing at the Facebook page that Daryl continues to maintain to avoid questions of why I don't know what she's up to in New York.

This convenience has generally been worth the occasional moment when Alicia's phone buzzes because somebody has found her Instagram page and decided to leave some lewd comment on a picture of her not completely dressed.  At times, I find it amusing, for I am sure most of the men posting that message would be taken aback by the true identity of the person reading it.  Occasionally one is unctuous enough to merit blocking, and in a few cases people have reappeared with new accounts.  As a man, I admire their persistence, but they are a nuisance, though one that had been tapering off, as I had not added more photographs to keep it current.

Then came "Barbie".

Barbara Matheson was hired by the airline a few months ago, and as fate would have it not only wound up assigned to the same crew as I was in November, but also rented a spot in the same apartment.  It is, I suppose, natural that she would decide to look at me as a mentor and sort of older sibling, and I certainly did little to discourage it initially.  I have always appreciated the attention of young, attractive women, and though I now recognize that it will no longer lead to certain highly-pleasant experiences, I am nevertheless vulnerable to it.

Part of her being young is that she instinctively documents her entire life in real time, and tags her non-stop stream of "selfies", food photographs, and status updates with the names of everybody in the area, frequently including myself.  Every tag becomes a new, current way for people who followed a hash-tag to Barbie's page to find mine, follow me despite the year since the previous post, or decide to make some comment, creating more and more notifications.  On a number of occasions, people came to proposition us before we finished our meal because Barbie had tagged the location!  Thankfully, she has become more conscientious about waiting to post her silly food pictures until after she has finished eating.

Somewhat surprisingly, not all of the comments Barbie attracts are from men trying to get into her pants; or from family members who think that the travel involved with her job makes her life one to live vicariously, but a whole group of young women as well.  And many of them would be shrieking in capital letters not just about the obvious things, but my apparel, which I found strangely gratifying.

Contrary to what Lindsey or Daryl might have you believe, I do dress well.  It was initially emasculating the first time I donned brassieres and skirts, in large part because of the job they represented, but eventually one must work with the reality of the body one has.  Eventually, it became clear that what one wears allows one to choose who speaks to her, and if that means a black skirt, nylons, and matching heels, it is a small price to pay to converse with serious people rather than the people Alicia used to get involved with!  It can be frustratingly difficult at times - my current hips are not as conducive to a nice pencil skirt the way Lindsey's were and presumably are again, so finding the style that best creates the intend impression can require trial and error.  That means more time than I would like in changing rooms, and I've taken to traveling with a small iron in case there is not one at a city's "crash pad".

It is, in some ways, a circle of deception, with me pretending to be Alicia pretending to be a bit more high-class than her means.  The combination of all factors puts me in some strange situations on occasion, like last night, when I needed a new top and found my bank account light between paying rent last week and my pay not being deposited until today.  I took two into the changing room and had a difficult time deciding, and practically before the idea had formed, there were two new posts on Alicia's Instagram account, asking the ladies following her which I should choose.  Surprisingly, there was a flurry of responses saying that the white one with bate shoulders was "v. sophisticated" (and, yes, some would write out "sophisticated" while abbreviating "very"), so I went with that.

The Inn has made me a selfie-posting Millennial.  God help me.

- Harmon Keller

Jonah/Krystle: You've got a boyfriend when...

... your 2-year-old daughter knows maybe a dozen people's names and "Calvin" is one of them.

This whole dating thing has been surprisingly easy so far, to the point where I sometimes find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop.  There's a part of me that wonders if Calvin has been to the Trading Post and knows I have, because he accepts me being weird so easily and doesn't push where it would freak me out, but what are the odds on that?

Like, back in October, he practically had a twinkle in his eye talking about second-date plans, and I'm like, dude, you don't know me and aren't that clever.  But I kind of enjoy that, waiting to see what he thinks I'd like.  A few days later, he texts asking if I'm free mid-week; I say yes, he says to bring workout clothes.  Interesting.

We meet at a subway station in Cambridge, and he leads me a couple blocks down the street to a rock-climbing gym.  "That's...  A choice.  You saying I'm fat or something?"

"My sister said you'd say that, and also said not to say I wanted to see you in spandex."

"You should listen to her more."

"She says that a lot.  But, honest, I just picked up on you liking sports but not really being into running.  You ever do this before?"

"Just, like, ropes in gym class."

"Trust me, you'll love it."

I don't, at first, as I go into the locker room and change.  I don't think about my butt much, especially after a couple of years - obnoxious guys tend to and grab it at work and on the subway, sure, but they to do that to everyone, and I've got more tempting targets up top - but put me in a pair of yoga pants in a room with other people, and, yeah, there's no denying that I've got a genuine black girl bottom.  It's nothing to be ashamed of, but I went to high-school with a bunch of white guys and serve a lot more in Ashlyn's, and they can get weird, like it's either gross or something exotic.  It's just my butt.

Still, getting into that and a sports bra, I couldn't help but think that this was a lot more skin than I was counting on for a second date.   I try to tell myself I'd be cool with it if I were still the guy, and you might as well rip the Band-Aid off rather than get ghosted because he finally sees your shape after a couple months, but I'm new at this and kind of nervous as I leave the locker room.

He smiles when he sees me without being creepy, though, and we go to one of the beginner walls, a trainer showing me how to work with the harnesses and all, which would probably be nothing if I'd just decided to do this on my own, but is also way more "guys I don't know touching me" than I expected on a date.

On the other hand, climbing is awesome.

I liked sports in school, but I just never got the hang of running since becoming Krystle, especially since getting pregnant.  I'll do it if Little Moira is about to get into something, but when you're as busy as I am and maybe don't have the right bra for it, it's something to be avoided.  It's probably worse if you became this top-heavy all at once, but who knows.  Yoga isn't a bad way to stay in shape in that case - it's actually really good for learning balance and stuff if the Inn changes you that much - but it's really boring.  "Hold that pose" is harder than it looks, but it's not like you're competing with the girl next to you or feeling like you're accomplishing anything.  Considering that I didn't really care if guys thought I was attractive and everything else kept me busy, I was ready to fall out of the habit.

This, though, was just fun - a lot of the stretching and feeling the burn as you balanced your weight and stretched like yoga, but you're getting closer to a goal, you can trash-talk or give your partner encouragement.  It's fun and it doesn't hurt in the wrong way, and I enjoyed it so much we wound up staying until closing.

After that, we started doing more conventional dates.  Movies, sports (I'm still not sold on hockey), skating (I am way better at that then he thought a working-class black girl would be).  I'm not sure when kissing became a thing that we just did rather than something I have into when circumstances had our lips close, or when it felt like it might hurt his feelings not to, but it did.  I admit, I nearly jumped out of my skin the first time there was tongue and the first time he touched my breasts while watching a movie, but I told myself I'd done that, and was more appreciative the next time.

Meeting each other's people was a big deal, too.  Momma Kamen has seen a lot of the original Krystle's questionable taste in men, and I had no idea if Calvin was going to fit into some pattern that had nothing to do with me from her point of view.  Plus, if my daughter didn't like him, it was game over, which admittedly wasn't really that scary - aside from the part of my brain still rebelling against dating a guy, there's one that feels like every evening I go out and leave Moira with her grandmother, on top of the ones where I'm working, is me being a bad mother.  She says I'm not nearly at the point where we have to worry about it.

I don't really think she trusts him, and I don't necessarily blame her for that; the least-involved of Karla's baby-daddies is the white guy with some money.  She grilled him pretty good, but he got out of it alive.  It was a little embarrassing, both because he's a good guy and because she doesn't really know who she's doing it for.  But I try to imagine my own parents trying to suss out his intentions and I just can't.

Little Moira likes him, though; he's a good tickler and she likes it when he lifts her up to the ceiling so she can put star stickers up.  He is also very easy to persuade that it's never too cold for ice cream, and what more does a two-year-old need?

I didn't meet many of his friends until New Year's Eve; it was our first party, I guess, and by then Momma Kamen had at least gotten to the point of accepting that Calvin was going to be a party of my life for a while, because she raised an eyebrow at me in my jeans, sweater, and Nikes.  "That's how you ring in the New Year now?"

I was trying to figure out how to say "uh, yeah" without sounding disrespectful, but then wondered about the other girls at the party - would they be dressing down?  I quickly texted Calvin, and he said not to worry about what anyone else was wearing.  I may not have been born a girl, but Moira the Elder had grumbled about something like this a few weeks earlier - "don't worry about the other girls" means "at least some of the other girls will be making an effort".

So I went to my closet, pushed my church dresses aside, and looked square at the ones I'd worn on two of the most miserable days of my life:  The day I let someone with my face have their way with me on the left, the day Joseph finished Lamont's jail term and I tried to give him a treat only to fight and find out I was pregnant on the right.  The second one looked less trashy, so I went with that and the heels and push-up bra that went with it.  Plus some black pantyhose, because it gets cold.

Then some makeup, because I look good in the mirror and it wouldn't seem right to not go that extra little way.  I don't dress up much and I've gotten used to myself naked, so it takes me a little by surprise every time I get reminded that people used to stick money in the original Krystle's panties for being hot.  I kind of feel ashamed most of the time, both because I know that me being like this is unnatural and because I took that hotness from its owner, but this time, I'm also thinking that Calvin is in for a treat.

Momma Kamen must see that I'm thinking that, too, because she says "there's my sexy little girl" and that she hasn't seen me wanting to make this effort in a while.  I blush, realizing that I do want to look nice for my boyfriend.

He appreciates it, and it doesn't suck that his friends all seem impressed with the "cute, responsible single mom" he's been telling them about.   I smile and laugh, say that when you've got a toddler, you save the time to get fancy for special occasions, and then kind of sick around Calvin for most of the night, trying not to feel too jealous of everyone talking about their recent college or had school experiences.  Could have been me, but I've got an awesome little girl, so that's not a bad trade.

I'm not really that good in heels, especially when there's a lot of dancing, so I wound up leaning on Calvin some, especially with the beer and champagne and all in my system.  There were a few times I could feel how much he was enjoying my touch, but he didn't press it when the night came to its close.

That was kind of neat, all told, although my legs felt it afterward!  Very glad that Little Moira's second birthday party could be an informal affair, and not the last bit alarmed that Calvin is trying to get in good with my daughter by spoiling her at all.

-Jonah/Krystle

Jenn/Zack: Reaching a conclusion

So, I ended up meeting with Alexa. It was nice. We had a lot in common, even though we're not supposed to. On the one hand back when I was female I'd probably have a lot of preconceptions based on her appearance that would cause us not to get along - that she was shallow, mean... dumb? Which sucks because I try to be about uplifting women. And maybe my male mindset really wants to see the best in someone who looks like she does because on some level - deep down, where I would never do anything about it - I think she's attractive.

All we did was have coffee and chat. I said I wasn't sure if I was right for her job. She pressed on about it, saying she loved my portfolio. I couldn't tell her it wasn't my portfolio. I said maybe I had some colleagues I could send her to. That was about it.

I haven't told David yet because I know he doesn't want me to do anything like that, and I know he'll react very badly when I tell him.

David came home that night, late and tired and complaining about everything as always. There's an added dimension now where he gets home and starts to undress, expecting sex. Now that we're sexually active he expects me to just be ready willing and able 24/7, at his beck and call every night, because that's what guys want, so that's what he expects from me. And it's not necessarily wrong - I do have desires and using his (Lena's) body is certainly one way to keep my attention focussed on him - and not like I don't enjoy it but... I've started feeling very bad afterwards.

I lie there and think, is this it? What do I have to look forward to? Did we ever have real conversations? Because we haven't lately. Did we enjoy each other's company? Because I don't think I do now. Was it really just about sex, and I pushed hard to keep the intimacy in our relationship because I knew we were doomed without it? Did we stay together because I felt obligated after we changed? If we were us, would I have walked away already?

I would have wanted to, I just know it. And it's scary to think I wouldn't have gone through with it because I was getting to an age where you just want to settle down with whoever you're with already. I already had m doubts before we got into this mess, but there was no way I was going to abandon him while we looked like this. But it was hardly any kind of fix for our problems. Resuming sexual activity really just emphasizes how little of a relationship there ever was.

And now - now that it's hard and inconvenient, I might need to do it (end the relationship) more than ever. It's more important now that I've done something he told me not to by meeting with Alexa, and that whenever I tell him I know it's going to touch off a huge fight, I know it's either now, or wait until we get our bodies back, and by then I will probably talk myself out of it.

I need to break up with him. I care a lot about his feelings and what happens, but I realize now that's different from love. I have my doubts because it seems wrong to break up while we're in the middle of this whole thing and I feel like I'd be leaving him high and dry, but I should follow my heart on this one.

Woo. I'm shaking, having written all of that. It's a good thing he vowed never to read this. I needed to put it out there, somewhere I hope he won't see.

-Jenn

Jenn/Zack: Holiday in the Heat

It began with a DM (and I don't mean Daryl/Magda, haha...)

A few days after my last post, as David and I were preparing to take our Christmas Holiday to Lena's Beach House in Florida, I got messaged on Instagram by a stranger asking, "Are you Valerie's photographer friend?"

I raised an eyebrow. I haven't done too much photography lately, only to keep Zack's client base up. I was enjoying it, and with Zack's help on photoshop I was pretty decent at it, but I didn't have the energy to go out and find customers, or the financial need thanks to Lena's bank account. I was also pleasantly surprised to hear that Tyler/Valerie and I were "friends" but I really wasn't sure why she was shopping me around... but I was intrigued, so I answered, "Yes... who is this?"

"My name's Alexa, nice to meet you! (Val told me you might recognize the name hehe) I'm looking for a photog to partner with for my account."

Alexa -- as in Ryan's Alexa? As in the girl Tyler, like... cuckolded?? My better instinct was to stay the heck away, but my love for drama commanded me to pursue. It'd be like meeting a character from your favorite reality show. I told her I wasn't really available in December, but maybe... maybe we could meet up in the New Year. She said that would be fine.

After that, I started browsing her feed, and it made me almost wish I hadn't agreed to meet her, at least not without serious consideration. I started scrolling, and scrolling, and found myself mesmerized by this girl's... everything. Her face, her features, her body, her style. The part of me that's a girl was both jealous and impressed by her hair, her makeup, her clothes. But there's another part of me now... one that's more interested in the curve of her hips, that glint in her eyes in that close-up where she's looking over her shoulder... her coy smile, the seemingly perfect soft line of cleavage between her breasts. It was this simultaneous feeling of both wanting her life, and maybe... wanting her in my life.

I got this sinking feeling I was in trouble either way. I didn't know if I should be putting myself in a room with her. I mean, I know I'm strong, and committed, but why put myself in a situation where I'm going to be... like... lusting after a woman who isn't my boyfriend? (Boy, that's a hell of a sentence!) David is jealous enough, why give him a reason?

When David got home - seemingly tired and worn out from the office as always - I told him about it, I was very up front. Not about any attraction I may or may not have had to this girl, but about the job offer and how I had agreed to meet with her but was thinking of reconsidering. I showed him the Insta feed.

He raised an eyebrow. "Wow," he said flatly. "She's pretty hot, huh."

Like it was nothing. Like he couldn't recognize this, like, goddess on the screen. Maybe he's been desensitized by porn, or by being female.

Finally, after a bit more scrolling, he tosses the phone aside. "Yeah, you're not meeting this chick."

I raised an eyebrow - excuse me? Don't you trust me? Never mind the fact that she is also known to be in a serious relationship. We can handle ourselves. This could be a good project.

He says, what do you need a project for? Why can't you just do your own thing?

Suddenly, my resolve doubled. Why doesn't he just say it - he doesn't trust me with other women, or other men.

I said, who was he to tell me who I could or couldn't meet? And he said he was my boyfriend, that's who, and I said really because you haven't acted like it recently, and he says is that a crack about my manhood, and I say no it's a crack about your behavior - you don't act like we're in an kind of relationship.

He says, oh, me providing for you, giving you a place to live, buying all your meals, paying for everything, that's not enough? I say tell him it amounts to being a kept wo/man and it's boring and not emotionally fulfilling. He says if I'm bored I can leave anytime.

I almost did it. I was so angry - my summary really does not do justice to how I was feeling in that moment but I'm not interested in reliving it for the blog's sake, if that's okay.

For a variety of reasons, I didn't. Storming out isn't my style - I'm more a "stick to it and get it resolved" type, but that's very hard when emotions get inflamed. But for a few moments I was thinking, to hell with this, enjoy the rest of your life.

But we're stuck with each other. I can't leave him now, not like this, or else something really stupid might happen. have to watch over him. And yes, part of it is... I'm so embedded in his Lena-life I'm not sure I would be able to survive right now.

Not a great reason to stay in a relationship I guess but there you have it. I have faith that, when this is all sorted out, he'll be the person I love again. We got over the fight, although the core issue - my interest in meeting Alexa and pursuing a photography project - was unresolved. I had a sinking feeling I was going to let him have his way on that one, and I wasn't happy about it.

The next day we went to Florida. We had a few weeks to ourselves over the holidays. Our only obligation was Christmas Eve Dinner with Lena's niece and her fiance, which promised to be awkward, since what little family Lena has doesn't really know she's taken up with a 25-year-old. I asked if David wanted me to excuse myself for the night, and he said no - Lena's a grown woman, and nobody should judge her.

We had a good first few days frolicking in the sun. It was fun, but still very chaste. David wasn't comfortable showing too much skin, although I tried to convince him to get in the spirit of the vacation, while still dressing age-appropriately. We were walking along the beach and happened to pass a pair of women in bikinis. I didn't really look - seriously! But David let out a sight.

"What?" I asked, a note of irritation in my voice - I was prepared to be accused again, and rehash our fight.

Instead he surprised me, "Wish I looked like that."

I was puzzled a sec. "Like what. Her?"

I looked back at the woman - her bikini bottom riding up her well-toned butt. Then I looked at David in his modest, flowy sundress with the deep yet modest neckline.

"I mean, if I have to be a chick, why can't I... you know? With the perkiness and the curves and the... everything!"

In that moment, I saw how trapped he was. Men, and society in general, are conditioned not to see women above a certain age as having value... even ones who are wealthy as Lena Howard. Even if they have kept their looks as well as Lena Howard!

"You don't want her life," I said thoughtfully, "Yeah, she's hot, but she probably lives at the gym and counts every carb she breathes near. Doesn't drink, doesn't stay out late, constantly moisturizing. You should be happy."

"Well, wouldn't everything be easier for us if we looked like that?"

I raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I'd feel sexier, you'd find me sexier..."

"I find you sexy," I said matter of factly.

He huffed, "How could you find me sexy?! I've seen you look at other women, and I don't look like them."

"I... don't know! I don't know how it works. But it's the same as being attracted to men, I think - you just... feel the spark."

"Oh, and you feel the spark?"

"I do! If you'll let me," I smiled.

He rolled his eyes. "You think all this is sexy?" he held out his arm and indicated some loose flab.

"I don't care about that. Everyone's got flaws, and you inherited an overall great body. Lena Howard is a beautiful woman, and you have a beautiful soul."

He fell silent as he considered what I'd said.

I asked, "Do you find me sexy?"

With extreme hesitation, he said "Yyyyyyyyyess....."

"So we don't have a problem."

"If you really found me sexy, you'd want to have sex more."

I rolled my eyes. "You're thinking like a man, honey. I respect your space too much to push you into it."

"So, you really don't mind that we've only had sex once in these bodies?"

"I didn't say I didn't mind. I said I respect you." I wrapped my arm around him and kissed the top of his head.

Next was the niece's visit. I'm sure Julie means well but she wasn't even prepared to give me a chance. She had her eye on me from the start, looking for reasons to criticize me as a partner for Lena. I was on my very best behavior, making great conversation, but she was uninterested.

Before the meal was even done, Julie laid into the both of us, me for supposedly using her wealthy aunt for her money, and "Lena" for not putting her money to better use. I was too annoyed to speak, but David got up in her face, saying it was none of her business what two adults did with their time or money, or bodies for that matter. Julie left in a huff.

The evening proceeded tensely, but I began to feel very warmly toward David again after that. There was my man, defending my honor. But he was also the woman who kept me at arms length. Or so I thought.

After dinner, we were watching a movie in the screening room. We're cuddled up nicely, it's a bit like old times. David has been using some of Lena's body washes and other products and the smell is really driving me crazy. I'm fidgeting trying to ignore what's going on in my pants. He's very still.

"You know..." he finally says, pausing the movie, "I feel like we're under the microscope. People are starting to talk, in Lena's circles. It's like, gossip."

"Really," I sighed.

"Yeah. It's not just Julie. It's people on the board who've seen me Facetiming you. It's people in Lena's clubs. I guess the secret's out."

"Uh huh..."

"I mean, if we're already convicted... we might as well do the crime, right?"

"...Excuse me?"

"Wait here."

He dashed off, as nimbly as a nearly 50-year-old woman could. With purpose, moving like I haven't seen him do since being Lena.

"David?" I called out, when he'd been gone for a few minutes.

"Hold on..." he called back.

I got up to search, but he must have heard me lumbering because he called out "Don't move!"

Finally, he called out "Okay, come to the bedroom!"

I made my way slowly over. This had to be a trick, right? Two days ago we were back to barely-holding-hands. And now?

I went to the bedroom. No David. The light in the ensuite clicked on.

He appeared, bathed in soft light from behind. He was dressed in a sexy black bra and lace panties. I've never seen him voluntarily wear anything like that.

"I bet you've been waiting," he said, putting on an eerie impression of a sultry, seductive voice.

"I..., have..."

"I've been thinking about this a lot," he said. "You like this, don't you? You think I'm sexy?"

"Um... yes," my voice cracked nervously.

"This will make you happy? This is all you want, isn't it?"

"Um... only if you do."

He took my hands and placed one of them on his breast and one of them on his ass.

"We've wasted so much time, Jenn. Make me want it. Make me like it. F*** me hard."

"David I..."

"Now, Jenn!" he hissed, planting a deep kiss on my lips.

"Are you drunk?"

"Haven't had a drop," he said breathlessly.

That was true as far as I knew - which is unusual.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because our vacation's almost over and it will be back to the real world soon. And you deserve it."

"Okay," I said - still a little skeptical but starting to get "in the mood."

And then we did it. I climbed on top of him and he played his part to a "T", moaning and screaming, perhaps a little too vocally and graphically for my liking, but in the heat of the moment it really egged me on.

I mean, I could have done without him squealing "Oh my God I'm f**ing a guy!" But at lease he seemed to be enjoying it.

He must have liked it more this time, because it became a pattern. We found our rhythm and made love every night for the rest of vacation, and well into our return in January. He looks so good beneath me... and on top of me... and one time in front of me.

I haven't ended up meeting with Alexa yet, although it 's in the back of my mind. Things are just so good now that I don't want to rock the boat.

Which... is kind of stupid, when I say it like that.

Oh, man. I'm still in trouble.

-Jenn/Zack

Daryl/Magda: Not for Tourists

I was a bit surprised when J.T. suggested we do Times Square on New Year's Eve; I'd kind of expected it to be the sort of thing a longtime New Yorker like him dismisses as being for tourists and newbies, but apparently not.  Rather, it's in the category of things that are too good to be surrendered to the tourists, although folks aren't necessarily combative about it. 

It is, in a lot of ways, one of the most true representations of the life I've fallen into as J.T.'s girlfriend.  There's something kind of fantastic everywhere, especially with regard to music, cameras you learn to ignore, noise, tight quarters, and your own little bubble inside them.  There was some of that in Chicago, but not to the extent there is here.

And in Chicago, he was Elaine and more or less anonymous beyond being generally sexy.

He doesn't exactly attract paparazzi right now, but it was the sort of night where we bumped into strangers, at least to me.  He knows a fair chunk of the people in the entertainment press around here, and a few wanted a quote about what he had planned for the New Year, which was a good chance to plug his play.  He hand-sells it a bit too, when someone recognizes him and asks what he's doing now.  It's not exactly top-tier show business, but it's kind of neat.

The chilly, damp weather kind of had me dressed up in weird layers, though - little black dress for the after party, but also thigh-high boots and black pantyhose because it'll be cold, and then a coat to cover everything up.  By the time the ball drops, I'm really questioning all of this - not only is this my first time being on my feet in heels for such a long stretch, but I felt pretty stupid wearing an underwire all night when the top of my dress was underneath my coat. 

Still, the heels make it easier to kiss to ring in the new year, and when we wind up in one of his co-stars' apartments, it makes for a bit of a ta-da! moment when the girls finally come out.  Not that anybody aside from the other women of a certain age and maybe some of the gay guys really act impressed.  I'm honestly not sure what that's about - maybe they find me kind of campy when I start talking hip-hop and video games or express a strong preference for Android over Apple - but it's kind amusing, especially when someone has talked to me under the assumption that I must own an airline rather than work for one to have a boyfriend so much younger than my apparent age.

That goes away once I'm a couple drinks in - I still notice people looking at me kind of funny, but I care a bit less - and it turned out our hosts had a karaoke machine.  Magda's voice isn't write the instrument I had as myself or Elaine, but I suspect that makes it more fun for everybody.

It was almost 5am by the time we got home and I could take off my shoes before ditching the dress and taking off that bra.  I gave my breasts a bit of a heft after that ("boy, you guys are demanding!"), then stopped and prodded a bit more before walking to the bed where J.T. was already half-asleep.  I climbed up and straddled him.  "Hey, squeeze my tits."

"If you insist."  He reached up and started fondling, until I grabbed one wrist and guided it.

"Not like that.  Like you're trying to find something.  You know how they're supposed to feel better than me."

He gave me a weird look, but gave my right breast a harder, less pleasant squeeze, then shook his head.  "Feels normal to me."  We joked a bit about my breasts feeling normal, which led to a little playing while I was already on top of him.

I had a hard time shaking the feeling, though, poking around every time I changed clothes, getting worried whether I thought I could feel anything or not.  I googled "breast self-examination", tried that, and then after a couple days I made an appointment for a mammogram, which was today.

The radiologist was friendly, actually trying to talk me out of it at first, saying that they actually don't recommend the procedure for women as young as me these days, at least not as a matter of course, and I smirked at how I don't hear that very often.  I still said I wanted to be sure, and she shrugged and led me into a room.

I guess I was lucky to have a woman examining me in teems of it being more comfortable, although maybe a male radiologist would have speed me enough not to go through with it.  Initially, it was just a surreal experience, as I took off my shirt and set my right breast on a shelf.  The doctor lowered another, and I squawked a bit as it started to compress the tissue.  She looked at me and asked if I was okay, because the closer they can get the plates together, the better the image will be.  I said I was just a bit surprised and tried to tough it out, but I wouldn't be surprised if the plates only got a half-inch closer together before I said that was okay.  She nodded, went behind a screen, and hit a button.

Then we repeated it three more times, getting both top-down and side-to-side images for each breast.  It hurt like hell, just another example about how guys can be real wimps about pain (I initially typed "pussies", but that hardly seems right).  I winced a bit putting my bra back on afterward.  It was going to hurt if they were hanging, but I guess I have a bit more to learn about wearing the right underwear for the occasion still.

The doctor was able to show me pictures fairly quickly, and assured me there was nothing out of the ordinary, although there was a fair rate of both false positives and negatives - was I sure I'd felt a lump?

I immediately felt embarrassed.  "I, uh, guess maybe not."

"You sure?  Tests are one thing, but a woman knows her body."

Not necessarily, I thought.  I felt a weird sort of shame with that, like I should know my body better, or should have grilled Magda and Lindsey on this, so that I wouldn't think a bruise from bumping into something while wearing too tight a bra or something like that might be cancer.  I felt like apologizing to this doctor for wasting her time.

J.T. tried to look unconcerned when I got home.  "How'd it go?"

"Healthy boobs.  Sore, but healthy.  Be glad you were to young for this when you weren't yourself."

"True that, though it's not like Elaine's cramps were any picnic."

"Word.  Don't miss that.  But, man, today was something.  It's one thing to laugh off people because they don't know the real you, but this was kind of real, y'know?"

"Yeah.  I'm glad you're up for it."  He kissed me on the forehead, gently.

"Thanks.  The guys who won't get here for a while don't know what they're in for, but I guess that's what happens when you actually become a woman, and not just a guy visiting that sort of life."

-Magdaryl

Tyler/Valerie: Bad timing

I didn't go out and make plans for New Year's Eve but being that I have found myself in the body of a 25-year-old something was bound to happen. A few days before the 31st Maddie and Charlie persuaded me not to get in the way of holding a party at our loft. Not that I could have stopped them but they wanted my blessing and,if possible my participation (read: cooking, house-mom duty.) I said sure, but I needed help with something.

I needed sex.

Okay maybe it's an exaggeration to say I needed it but it was definitely a strong urge. After my meetup with "Cyn" I counted backwards and realized how long it had been since my ill-conceived tumble with Ryan and decided it was time to get back out there... at least for a night.

I was actually a little confused by my sudden need. I've gone long stretches as a woman without sex before - my whole time as Lauren, months as Judith, nearly my whole first year as Valerie. Maybe my desire to abstractly get laid by a man, without having one in mind, was a sign that I'm truly female, and hetero to boot... or maybe it actually makes me a guy who possesses a vagina and is attracted to men. How should I know.

The pursuit of sex has of course changed since I was fully male. Now all I have to do is stand still and - sorry to sound conceited but it's true - someone will want to sleep with me. The problem is it's easy to turn down these offers because, well, men are men. It's easy to find flaws and assume you'll find a better one eventually. Hence you find yourself six months down the road growing cobwebs between your legs. (Kidding, I dust regularly.) Anyway, to that point, I haven't met a good man in a long time. Technically ever, when you consider Ryan was a cad, Rafe was anti-commitment, and Josh impregnated another woman.

And sure, maybe my standards are high, but I deserve to be wowed. I'm a catch. (I've decided that most men would never admit it, but they'd prefer a woman with a man's brain.)

So I must really have wanted it, to want it in spite of all the potential for disappointment, frustration, and the host of other reasons women can be deterred from casual sex. My sudden needs were really eroding my commitment to my standards. But it was only going to be one night.

My ultimatum to Maddie: find me a guy I might potentially want to sleep with or I'll invite Rafe.

She brought me a guy named Erik, a friend of her boyfriend's. His online presence showed he was a clean cut, harmless type. Didn't exactly light my fire, but no red flags. I agreed to meet him. If he could string a few sentences together he would have a very good night.

The party was... what it was. I looked good. I curled my hair into nice wide ringlets and wore a low-cut clingy dress that shows off my assets but still looks appropriate for a house party,(assisted by an insane date night bra I have never worn before that felt like scaffolding) and tights. I busied myself hostessing since, at my age, getting hammered with twentysomethings is something I have reservations about. I did drink a bit to make sure I had the necessary courage. Erik seemed unaware he was there to be my plaything and kept his distance at first, but there was little else for him to do since Maddie had brought all the same people they usually hang out with, and Charlie had brought all her gay friends, which I think a made a vanilla guy like Erik feel a little out of place.

Eventually, Maddie said to him, why don't you keep Val company in the kitchen? He made some feeble attempts to help with what I was doing but I indicated it wasn't necessary and worked to break the ice. He was a little shy, which was simultaneously cute and irritating. He said he liked to travel, and had been through Europe, which I know is a cliche but at least gave us something to discuss. I had another glass of wine and started closing the physical gap by touching his arm. He responded by going right for the kiss. Points for enthusiasm. I told him he could meet me in my room. It was only 10.

I went to the bathroom. I had started feeling strange an hour or so before but hadn't had a chance to investigate because I was busy and it didn't feel urgent. But once I got in there I pulled down my panties and found, yes, my period had showed up a few days early. That kind of explained the horniness, actually. One of these days I will get truly

I hissed a "Damnit!" and threw my underwear in a nearby hamper. I groaned in frustration. As a man I had had period sex within a committed relationship many times but you can't spring that on a guy you just met. Plus I now felt dreadfully unsexy.

I put in a tampon and went to my room, where he was sitting on my bed, as casually as a guy who thinks he might get laid.

"Hey," I somberly informed him, "So... this is awkward but I just got my period. We can, uh, still do some stuff, and I'll understand if sex is off the table."

He looked at me for a few moments, clearly weighing his options. I seemed to be the only single straight girl at the party, thus his only real opportunity to get laid - which I vividly recall 25-year-old guys being wired to pursue at any cost. Still, you can always count on the male discomfort with menstruation to ruin a party.

He shrugged, "Lets, uh, see where it goes." That was very polite.

We made out for a while. It was fun, but the creeping sense it was not going to culminate in anything spectacular for me kind of flattened the experience. I took my top off and let him plsy with my tits (god, they all love my tits. They can take em!) And presumptuously unzipped his jeans, I guess just to see how I might react.

Oh what the hell. It was almost midnight on New Years. I wrapped my hand around his johnson and began to play gently (what do you know, I know my way around one of those things.) I could hear music in the other room. I decided if he could go the length of a song without ejaculating or doing that awful thing where he pushes my head towards it, I would give him oral.

He made it.

I'd never done it before. On the one hand it seems like something you should keep for someone you really like, but on the other it was like something you can do when sex is off the table and you don't want to ruin the moment. An investment, kind of. At first I felt silly. Like I had lost my last shred of manhood and put myself in a position of pleasuring a guy without getting anything back. As if this was the moment there was truly no going back, like I haven't decided that dozens of times in the past year - I'm a woman, and sometimes women do this. the fact that I didn't hesitate probably shows you where I'm at.

But I had a lot of time to think while I was down there. Was it pleasurable for me at all? Was it anything close to what I'd hoped for? No to both. But undignified? Not that either. There was no shame to what I was doing, because we were both consenting adults and I wanted somebody to have a good time. But even after that, I still really needed sex.

"Hey," I said, "If I get you a condom, would you consider it?"

His grunting stopped and he paused to think. "Can we... do anal?"

"Uh... no." I sighed, and finished him roughly with my hand. Here's a kleenex, see ya. In hindsight - not that I would consider it, but I could have let him down gently.

I rejoined the party and kept my distance. He wasn't so bad, the whole experience just soured my night. Maddie was oblivious, but Charlie was amused. We ended up talking for a few hours as the party wound down.

She laughed when I told her he had balked at the offer of period sex.

"I've never had that problem," she said with a wink.

"Don't rub it in..." oh, poor choice of words. We laughed.

The new year began. The search continues. And my thumb hovers over Rafe's name in my contacts. He's not good for me in the long term, but he knows his way around...

-Valerie/Tyler

Tyler/Valerie: So this was Christmas...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inside was a check.

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

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

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

"Surgery?"

She pointed at my chest and cleared her throat.

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

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

-Val/Ty