Girlfriend Problems - A Transition Story - Part 3

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Author - Katherine LaRue

It was about 5 p.m. when I heard Denise come through the door. I went out to greet her.

"Oh, look at you! Don’t you look pretty?"

“You like it?” I asked.

“I love it! Now that suits you much better. Oh, and look, you got your ears pierced! Now be a doll and draw my bathwater. I’m having company tonight.”

“Sure”

I went and drew Denise a bubble bath and thought, ‘Company?’ What did she mean by that? I asked myself.

After Denise took her bath, we sat at the table and ate together. Just then, Denise dropped a bomb. “I’d like for you to stay in your room tonight while my company comes over.”

“Stay in my room? The entire night?”

“Well, yes, for the most part,” Denise said it mattered factually.

“But what about me having to wash up?”

“Well, you’ll just have to wash up before he gets here.”

“Before who gets here?”

“Bob,” Denise said as she ate her ravioli.

“Do you want me to hide?”

“Oh no. You’ll meet him, but I’m going to need your presence to be scarce.”

I felt a bit put off. She was already inviting another guy into our house—into our bedroom, where we once slept together.

“This is just the way it is. Now, can you please clean up and make this place presentable for my company? And I’m glad that you spruced yourself up and that you're looking all feminine. Bob’s going to see why we split up.”

“Okay,” I could say nothing but felt hurt inside.

I washed the dishes, cleaned up after our meal, and made the pillows and the throw blanket on top of the couch uniform. Denise went to her bedroom and started to get dressed. She came out of her bedroom with a little makeup on and a sexy negligee with a silk robe covering it. She did look stunning. Not long after that, the doorbell rang. Denise promptly got up and answered the front door. There stood a hunk of a man about six feet two. His muscles rippled through his t-shirt. His hair faded and was cropped short. His pale skin gleamed as if he had oiled it. I watched as they embraced and kissed. Denise took his hand and led him into the living room.

“Bob, I want you to meet someone. This is Kathy, formerly known as Kenny.”

His deep voice boomed, “Pleasure to meet you, Kathy.”

“Hello,” I said as I stuck out my hand daintily.

“Kathy is staying here temporarily until she gets her own place. In the meantime, she’s acting as my housekeeper and cook until she finds a new job,” said Denise in a very derogatory tone.

"Oh, that’s wonderful,” said Bob. “It’s nice to have someone do some domestic chores for you. Denise, I know that’s an extra bonus since you work so hard all day.”

“Kathy dear, would you get us a glass of wine?”

“Sure. What would you like?”

“Give us the Merlot. As a matter of fact, just bring us two glasses and the entire bottle.”

I went to the kitchen and brought them the two glasses and the bottle. An angry thought crossed my mind, baby: I should drug them both. Then I said to myself, ‘No, that's silly.’

“Okay, good night. I’m going to my room. It was nice meeting you, Bob.”

“Nice meeting you too, Kathy.”

"Goodnight, Kathy,” said Denise.

“Oh, and I brought you a little something from the doctor's office to help you sleep. Look on top of your vanity. I put it there.” She said that and winked at me.

I went inside my room, and there was a bottle of pills. I read the label, and it was estradiol. Denise brought me hormones, but they were in her name. There was a note underneath the bottle.

It read, “Here’s a little something to get you started. I know you don’t have insurance right now, so I decided to give you a little help. Love Denise.”

I didn’t know how to feel. I was happy that she wrote “I love you,” but it still felt strange knowing that a man was sleeping with my now-former girlfriend in the same home and in the same bed where we once slept. I calmed myself down and took the little blue pills. I’m not going to fight it anymore. I resigned to the fact that this was my destiny now. I was going to become a woman. I put on the nightgown that Denise had given me and tried to fall asleep. Before I dozed off, I could hear Denise and Bob in the room next to me making love. She never moaned like she was moaning with Bob like she did with me. It was obvious that I never really satisfied Denise sexually. Weirdly, I was happy for her, but at the same time, I was jealous. Not jealous of Bob, but jealous of Denise. I eventually fell asleep.

A New Life,

With all of my male clothing gone and in the garbage, I wore only women’s clothing, albeit casual. It was mainly women’s jeans, leggings, women’s tops, flats, and women’s sneakers. With my hair now dyed with blonde highlights and the clothing I was wearing, you could definitely tell that I was no longer being identified as a heterosexual cis-male. I looked more androgynous, or just simply "gay," than I did a woman. Denise, on occasion, would go to the grocery store with me and make sure my behavior was overtly effeminate. She would make me “switch” my hips when I walked. She would say, “Walk more daintily, my dear Kathy. You switch those hips now.” And “Turn your wrists facing forward and pull those elbows into your sides!” And, “That’s my girl," almost teasingly. I still felt a bit awkward and extremely anxious. I felt like everyone was looking at me. I remember Denise saying, “Stop being so nervous. Nobody cares what you’re wearing. To them, you’re just another fag.” Still, my nervousness was palpable.

Things continued like this for the next couple of weeks. Almost every week, Denise would go out and buy me bra and panty sets and leave them on the bed with a note. This is for being such a good girl. I would also find a nice top hanging on the doorknob or a pair of women's jeans or slacks with a note saying that she loved me. I couldn’t understand why she was so nice and loving and, at the same time, so disparaging.

Denise came home one day after work and said, “I got a surprise for you! Come with me into the bathroom."

I followed her into the bathroom, where she took out a bag with a syringe and two vials. She got some alcohol wipes out. “Now take down your pants and your pants." She instructed. “Now bend over slightly." I watched her draw up half a vial from both.

“A little prick,” said Denise. “And there’s no pun intended."

We both laughed. "Well, I guess it’s true,” I snapped back. “I guess I do have a little prick.”

"Yeah, and it’s going to get even smaller after this shot,” said Denise. She continued as she pulled out a huge bottle of pills. “This is Spironolactone. I want you to take two of these per day. This is going to stop your male hormones from interfering with your female hormone therapy.”

"Oh, I’ve read about this,” I said.

“Good! So you know about it. Now, what I gave you in the shot was estrogen and progesterone. I’ll be giving you shots every two weeks. If I forget, remind me.”

“Okay, I will deny it," I said and then interrupted her while she was putting away the rest of the vials, which she had around 8. “Denise, I want to say that I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair to you to hide my true self from you. I should have told you when we first met. But I want you to know I really do love you.”

"Oh, that’s so sweet. I knew there was something different about you from the beginning, but I couldn't put my finger on it. The way you made love to me wasn’t really that manly. Your voice changed when we used to make love. It becomes ultra-high and feminine. But I just rolled with it. And then there was the fact that you liked giving me oral sex more than penetrating me with your, well, little thing.”

“I thought about it these past couple of weeks, and I feel like you’ve opened something up in me that I was afraid to see in myself. So I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Oh, you’re welcome. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I was unhappy.” Denise continued. “Things started to change when you started to become distant from me. Then one day I was looking for my birth certificate and went into the storage unit and saw those huge storage bins. I opened them up only to find women’s clothes, shoes, and makeup. So I decided to take a peek at your browser history and found all sorts of websites you had been visiting. Then, I found a Facebook page with a picture of you dressed in women’s clothes. After that, I had to call your sister, Kiera. She told me all of the problems you had as a child—how you used to dress up with her and play with her dolls. When we got together, Kiera was so happy knowing that you were indeed a straight man. And I know you were a virgin when we first made love, and I found it strange that you had never been with a woman before at your age. The thing is, you could have been honest with me and shared a bit of your past. I’m thankful that we never decided to get married, but I feel like I’ve lost almost a year of my life. But what’s done is done. The only thing we could do was move forward. Now, if you’re going to do this, I want you to see a speech therapist so you can get that male vocal pattern out of your voice. There’s one in the same building where I work, and I've made an appointment for you two weeks from now. I hope that fits with your schedule.”

“Okay, I’ll go.”

“No, you have to go if you want to stay here with me,” snapped Denise. "I'll pay for the first two sessions, but after that, you'll have to pay. Which is another thing you need to do. You need to try to get on Medicaid until you get a job. You’ll probably be able to get food stamps, which will help with the food bill. Now what’s for dinner tonight?”

“I made some breaded chicken breasts with mashed potatoes and gravy.”

"Oh, that sounds good. You know, honey, you really are a good cook. You’re going to make a good wife one day,” Denise said, with a sly smile and a wink.

We ate together, which is something we hadn’t done in a while. It gave me a chance to tell her a bit of my side. “Denise, I want you to know that I truly love you. Nothing I did was done intentionally to hurt you. Even though we’re not going to be romantically involved anymore, I will never stop loving you. I also want you to know that my dressing as a woman was done out of something deep inside of me. Not something that came from a nefarious intent.” I said, defending myself slightly.

“I understand. But I’m still hurt.” She stopped to finish chewing her food. “But I must say, I do appreciate you doing all of the domestic chores you do. It’s a huge help to me. When I come home from my shift, I’m just beat! All I want to do is take a bath and lay my head down. Nursing is a tough job. I just want you to find a job. Any job! But you’re going to need to find one, Kathy. That’s why I want you to speed up the process a bit. This is the reason for the clothes and the hormones. How you present yourself in a work environment is very important. That speech therapy is going to help. You also need to practice to be a little more graceful with your movement and walking. I don’t want you to walk around acting like an effeminate gay man. Work on that, sweetie.”

She gave me a kiss on my forehead and said, “I’m going to take a bath and get ready for bed.”

From that day on, the temperature was a bit lower between us. There was a clearer understanding of how we each viewed the situation. I felt like maybe her anger and her wanting to date someone else were the reasons why she wanted to help me transition so badly. Whatever the reason, I started to feel appreciative that she opened up this side of me.

I wasn’t able to return to school and took the fall semester off for money, and my transition made finishing school a bit complex. I eventually found a job as a barista at Starbucks, just a couple of miles from my house. It was part-time at first, but after about a month, it turned full-time. They were totally fine with hiring me because I was in mid-transition. I took the bus every day to work, and this job gave me money to spend and contribute to the household. However, since it wasn’t enough to equally share all of the expenses, I was still mandated to do all of the housework, including laundry and cooking. I shopped weekly and did laundry every Thursday, which was my day off. I didn’t mind as much as I did at first. Denise cooled off with her angry outbursts and eased up on me with the teasing. She continued to bring me estradiol every month and my shots every two weeks.

My insurance kicked in through my employer. I was still feeling a bit out of place going out as Kathy in public, but certainly, with the help of female hormones, I began to soften up. My hair grew out pretty fast and is now down, almost to my shoulders. It curled up very nicely, especially since I was now going on my own every three or four weeks to get it done at Marisol’s. Since we were getting into the fall season, wearing sweaters, boots, and pants seemed to cover up some of my male characteristics. What bothered me the most was facial hair. I never really developed a lot of facial hair as a teenager, but it was still there. I looked up hair removal online and found a salon that did electrolysis and laser hair removal that was in between my job and home. At this point, I could actually see my breasts starting to grow. First, my nipples got tender, then very large. Then the fatty tissue surrounding the areola started to puff out a bit.

The weeks passed, and Janelle continued to call me to check on me. She called me after my shift at Starbucks to catch up.

“Hey Girl! How’s it going?”

“Hey Janelle! I’m doing well. How about you?"

“I’m doing well! I’ve been thinking about you and wanted to know if you still have off on Thursdays.”

“Yes, I do. What’s up?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking that it’s about time I take you in to see my husband Richard for a consultation.”

“A consultation? You mean to get some work done?”

“Yes, of course. What else would you be seeing him for?"

"Oh, I’d love that. But I can’t afford that right now. I just got my insurance, and I don’t think they pay for cosmetic surgery.”

“You let me worry about that. I’ll pay for the consultation for you.”

“You would do that?

“Of course, sweetie.”

“No, Janelle. You’ve already done so much for me. I can’t let you do that.”

“Nonsense! I also want to talk to you about an idea I have.”

“Okay, if you insist."

“Of course. You’re like my little sister now, and I want to take care of you,” Janelle said with a compassionate tone. “He has an opening for 10 o’clock tomorrow morning. Can I pick you up around 9:15?”

“Sure!”

“We can go to lunch afterward, and I have a few things for you.”

"Okay, that sounds like a plan!”

I was excited to hear what Janelle’s husband thought about how he could further feminize my look.

Doctor Levine

The next morning, I woke up, made Denise breakfast and coffee, and helped her get out the door for work. I hurriedly got dressed. I did my makeup carefully to look the best that I could. Nothing outrageous. Just very simple and neat. I did my hair to the best of my ability and wore it out as it was getting longer. I wore some boots with a small heel, jeans, and a white sweater, which showed off my tan skin. It wasn’t very cold at the beginning of November. The sun beamed down on my face as I waited on the stairs to the apartment. I wore some sunglasses, which hid my subtle male facial characteristics. I wanted to look as feminine as possible. Not five minutes after I sat on the stairs, Janelle pulled up, but this time she drove a two-seater BMW.

“Hi, Girl!” I waved at Janelle as I got in and smelled her perfume.

“Hey Janelle! Good Morning!” as I leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“So where is your husband's office?”

“It’s out near Bryn Mawr. He has another office downtown, but this one is more spacious and nicer.”

“Oh okay,”

“I must say, Miss Kathy, you have become much more feminine-looking. And your voice is much more appropriately female! This is so good to see.”

“Thank you! I’ve been working on it.”

“I see! For just 5 months of being on those hormones, I can see a difference.”

“You know that I’m on hormones?”

“Girl, I talk to Denise all the time. She tells me everything. Just because you and I are friends doesn’t mean I don’t talk to Denise.”

We made our way toward Bryn Mawr on the local highway, and I watched the golden and red-hued trees beam with color as we passed them by. We soon turned into a parking lot for a professional building. Most of the cars were expensive and well-maintained. So were the grounds surrounding the building. There wasn’t a piece of trash in sight, and the landscape was very well-kept. We got out of the car and headed toward the building. Janelle was very well dressed—hair and nails done—and wearing a vicious all-in-one pantsuit with stilettos. Her purse was Kate Spade, which I know cost well above $400. We entered the building, and the security at the front desk acknowledged her by saying, “Good morning, Mrs. Levine.”

We rang for the elevator, and it came immediately. Once inside, Janelle spoke. “Kathy, do you mind if I come in with you for the consultation?”

“Sure, I need some input.”

“I won’t suggest anything that’s not right for you.”

“Okay, that’s fine with me.”

“You know, that’s how I met Richard. I was one of his patients.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, I was. He just did a few things for me. Nothing major. But he asked me out, and shortly after that, we continued dating, and a year later, he asked me to marry him.”

The door opened, and I saw there were only two offices on his floor. One was unoccupied, and the other was his. The sign read, “Levine Plastic Surgery Associates”.