The Women's Job - Part 27

OTHER PARTS | ALL STORY LIST

Monday held no surprises for me. I got a lot of compliments on my new skirt and jacket and especially my hair.

Each day seemed to get better and better. Since the incident with Ginny the week before, everyone was very nice to me. It didn't take Einstein to deduce that no one wanted to have to confront Connie as a result of harassing me. It did leave me wondering who was being nice to me because of that and who was really my friend. Carol and the others who stood up for me, I was sure of. Several others were nice to me before the incident. I couldn't waste my time worrying about the rest.

Tuesday morning held a surprise for me.

Connie called me into her office around mid-morning. "We had a call from Curlins. They've decided to start running a full-page color ad, and they want to discuss a possible layout."

I recognized the name. I had seen their stores in a few of the malls I'd been in. It was a small local chain of clothing stores. I didn't know why she was telling me this?

"They've asked that we give them a presentation, show them what we can do for them."

"Do you need me to put the usual portfolio together for you?"

"You'll need to do that, yes, but I won't be presenting it." She leaned back in her chair.

"Who's going to do it?" There was no one else available. The other salespeople were all out of town.

Connie grinned. "You are."

"Me!?" She surprised me. "I'm not ready to . . . "

"Don't be silly. Of course, you are." Her look turned serious. "You've helped me put together a dozen complex presentations. You know the pricing, the presentation techniques, and what we can do for them. There's no one better qualified to do it. You've even directed photo sessions on your own. You're better qualified than ninety percent of our salespeople."

Modesty aside, that was all true, but I'd never done a presentation on my own. Not the least of my worries was that I'd be making the presentation alone, as Jennifer, in a strange place, in front of strangers. "Are you sure?"

Connie sat up straight and smiled at me. "Positive."

I parked my car in one of their visitor’s spots. I checked my hair and makeup. I had been dressing that morning when Connie came in and suggested I wear one of my suit outfits this morning. I had planned on wearing slacks, but I took her suggestion without giving it much thought.

It was a linen outfit, a pale gray windowpane plaid, and it looked very crisp and smart. I had liked the silk shells that hung in my closet but hadn't had an occasion to wear them. The white one looked very nice under the collarless jacket.

I understood why she wanted me to wear the outfit now. I waited for my knees to stop shaking before I stepped from the car. Straightening my skirt, I walked carefully down the sidewalk to the front door.

I presented myself to the receptionist. "Good morning," I said to the girl, struggling to appear calm and cheerful. "My name is Jennifer. I'm here to see Mr. Brooks."

I was scared to death but tried hard not to let it show. I had this picture of having to stand up in front of a room full of men and give my pitch. It wasn't anything like what I thought it would be.

Mr. Brooks, a very polite and cordial middle-aged man, came out to greet me. He escorted me to his office, where I met two of his associates. They were all delightful, very polite to me. It helped calm some of my fears. There was always the nagging thought in the back of my mind that someone, somewhere, would recognize me for what I was, but this wasn't the time or the place.

Mr. Brooks associates, who I’d be making my pitch to, were a young man and a middle-aged woman. It wasn't as formal a thing as I anticipated. We simply sat around a table, and I fed them the facts and figures. I told them why our firm could better represent their interests than any other firm in town.

My palms sweated, my knees shook, and, at times, when they threw questions at me one after another, I thought I might lose it. I didn't forget, for a second, who I was or the part I was playing.

None of the behavior, the harassment as I came to recognize it, was exhibited by Mike Parks. The men were very professional and listened intently to my pitch. It helped when I realized I didn't have to contend with Park's kind bigotry.

The woman was equally considerate. She didn't have a clue that she was dealing with a man. I did nothing to make her doubt for a second that I was a woman, even when it came to accompanying her to the ladies’ room during a short break.

I had little trouble remembering how to act, sitting there with a man on either side of me and the woman across the table. I tried not to fidget too much, sitting up straight, only occasionally tugging my dress down to cover my legs. I was glad I had a lot of practice, and it helped me to get through it.

I didn't try to give them the hard sell, that wasn't my way. I was honest with them, and it worked. To my amazement, I won the account. It was a great feeling.

I almost goofed when I had the contract in front of me to sign. I almost started to sign it 'Jeffrey' but caught myself. With a flair, I wrote out 'Jennifer.’ Connie had empowered me to sign for the firm should the deal go through.

I walked out their front door with the signed contract in hand and wanted to shout for joy.

I knew it was just a little account. It was only a small, local chain of stores, but I rode back to the office on cloud nine.

Connie wasn't as surprised as I was. "I knew you could do it." She said, smiling, congratulating me.

"Yes, you did!" I said, giving her a hug, right there in the office. We never did that sort of thing in the office, but I couldn't help it.

I stayed on that cloud the rest of the day. I called Virginia at her office. She was thrilled for me. I tracked down Christy at a shoot, and I found Trish at home to tell them the great news. I temporarily forgot that I was angry with Christy.

"The account's all yours, Jen. Run with it," Connie told me when I calmed down and sat with her late in the day.

That was fine with me, but a little scary.

Wednesday was anticlimactic after the excitement of the day before. I was back at my desk, doing all the usual tasks that filled my days, but in addition, I met with the art department, scheduled three shoots, talked to the printer, and spent an hour and a half on the phone with Carolyn Rogers, the woman at the presentation the previous day.

Patty called from La. It was great talking to her. I told her my good news, and she was very happy for me.

I crossed my ‘T’s and dotted my ‘I’s. Connie and I sat down at five and discussed my plans. I was determined not to miss anything.

"I sound as if you have it covered." She told me when I finished telling her what I had done so far.

Wednesday was almost as hectic, and I loved it. The week was over before I knew it. The first shoot for Curlin's was scheduled for Monday, and I had everything covered by the time we were ready to leave the office on Friday night. I was proud of myself.

"I thought we'd have a little celebration dinner," Connie suggested as we packed up to go.

I wasn't about to argue with that. While neither of us had plans for the evening, I didn't relish the thought of going home to cook.

Christy had asked me to come over for dinner, but I put her off. I still wasn't over the hurt I felt from last week, and it was the only way I had of getting back at her. I couldn't tell her I was jealous and hurt.

"Great! Where are we going?" I asked as we headed for our cars. As long as I was with Connie, I was fine; I could handle being out in public.

"I thought we'd have a drink at Bristol's then decide."

I was surprised she'd forgotten. "I can't go out for a drink."

"Of course you can." She insisted. Then she remembered. "Oh, here." She opened her purse and took out a folded piece of paper.

"What's this?" I took it from her.

"Open it and see." She waited anxiously for me to look.

I unfolded it and almost dropped the plastic-coated card on the ground that was wrapped in the paper. It was a social security card with the name 'Jennifer Sackett' typed on it.

"Where did you get this?" I asked, surprised. It looked so real.

"I told you I'd take care of it. Don't you remember?"

Since she mentioned it, I did remember giving her my birth certificate. I looked at the paper the card was folded into. It was a new birth certificate, and it was Jennifer's. It had the same birth date and place of birth as my original, only it showed me, Jennifer Sackett, as being 'female.'

"Sackett?" I questioned. She gave me her name instead of my own, Mitchell.

"I didn't think you'd want anything to tie you back to Jeffrey Mitchell. That's all right, isn't it?"

"Sure, that's fine." It didn't make much difference. It was only a fake.

"How did you manage this?".

"I have friends." She said, smiling. "Now, you don't have anything to worry about."

"What happened to my old certificate?"

"I put it away in my safety deposit box for safekeeping. You don't want to leave those things lying around."

I couldn't argue with that. Her voice or maybe her expression seemed a little odd when she said it, but I didn't read anything into it.

"Here, let me hang onto that one for you too." She reached out, and I handed it to her. "If you need it tonight, we'll have it. You should put your social security card in your wallet."

It was a comfort to have it. Now, if I had a problem, I didn't have to worry. I just hoped no one would realize they were fakes. They shouldn't though, they looked genuine.

"Now you can get yourself a new driver's license." She suggested.

That was a scary thought, going to the Motor Vehicle office as Jennifer Sackett and admitting I used to be Jeffrey, Jeffrey Mitchell, a man. I would have to turn in my old license. If I didn't, they would check through my social security number and learn the truth. It would be so embarrassing, but it might just be worth it. It would be a comfort to have a driver's license that had Jennifer's picture on it. Could I suffer the brief embarrassment was my only concern?

I followed Connie to Bristols. I had never been to the place, but I'd heard of it from the girls at work. It was supposed to be a very classy lounge. A place where The yuppie, white-collar crowd went on Friday nights. It was in the middle of the downtown business district where Virginia and I had strolled that Sunday a few weeks ago.

I was dressed for it. I still hadn't run out of new outfits to wear, and I hadn't brought any of the outfits home from Virginia's yet. I had on my red print dress and black heels. I really liked the way it looked on me. One of the girls at the office told me I look ‘classy’ in it.

My hair still looked good. It held its set all day, and it still looked like it had that morning when I brushed it out. Sleeping in rollers was going to take me some getting used to, but the results were well worth some minor discomfort. The soft plastic ones I bought on Monday were better than the stiff hot rollers.

Finding a parking spot wasn't easy. We finally had to leave our cars in a parking garage and walk a block and a half. I wished I'd brought a jacket. My dress was short-sleeved, and it was cooling off.

The place was packed when we walked in. We had to squeeze past people to get to the bar. I was rubbed by more than one person on my way to get a drink. It seemed that women tried to get out of the way as much as possible, but the men seemed to enjoy making me squeeze by. I found myself face to face with a few guys in those cramped quarters. They just smiled at me and said 'hello' as I brushed by. I offered them no encouragement.

I was almost disappointed that I wasn't asked for my ID. The bartender was terribly busy, and Connie ordered for us both.

"Let's see if we can find a place to sit," Connie said in my ear. She pointed toward the back of the lounge.

I led the way, squeezing past the throng of people that crowded the length of the bar. It was no better in the back. There was no place to sit.

"Let's try upstairs," Connie suggested, taking over the lead.

The lounge had a second floor. A wide balcony ran entirely around the place. I knew from the girls that there were bars up there too.

The only place that wasn't crowded was the stairs. The upstairs was as bad as down below. Still, I followed Connie. She must have spotted a place to sit. I didn't see one.

It wasn't till we were almost upon them that I spotted the group of people that had taken over a table on the far wall, right next to the balcony.

"Surprise!" They yelled.

Trish, Kim, Judy, and Gloria were there. Carol from accounting, along with Pam, Linda, and Gwen, was yelling as loud as the others. Barbara, from the art department, held up a drink in salute to me. I was surprised and delighted to find Virginia there, too, laughing and drinking with my friends.

I looked at Connie, and she was grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Surprise?"

"You planned this," I said, sounding like I was scolding when I was actually delighted.

"We had to have a party to celebrate you are getting the contract." She said meekly.

We partied hard. We ate and drank, we had a ball. More than once, the topic of conversation was me and how well I had adapted to my new life but not a derogatory word was said. I had a great time.

I was talking to Linda and Pam. "Do you play tennis?" They asked me. I had heard them, several times, talking over lunch about how they played all the time.

Tennis was another of the sports I tried to do well in high school, but I never won any notoriety for my game. My father didn't give me much credit for my efforts, as hard as I tried.

"I've played a little," I told them.

"You've got to come to play with us sometime." Pam insisted.

"There's about six of us from work. We play on Thursday nights. You should come."

It was really nice of them to invite me. "I'd like that." I just had to figure out what I would wear. I had this picture in my mind of me serving in a tennis skirt. No, shorts would do when the time came.

As the afternoon turned to even, a band started to play downstairs. It wasn't long till Kim and Linda dragged me down to the dance floor. Most of the others followed. I felt funny at first, dancing with them, but they wouldn't let me go back upstairs. I was feeling the effects of the wine I'd been sipping. After the second or third song, I started letting myself go and followed their lead, dancing like them with them all encouraging me. I really had fun.

I did worry that some guy might come up and ask me to dance. While some of my friends were asked, no one hit on me, to my relief. Deep down, I was a little jealous. I knew I wasn't beautiful like my friends, but it would have been nice to be asked, at least.

The party finally broke up around eight. The only ones left at the end were Connie, Virginia, Trish, Gwen, and myself.

I had watched my drinking, restricting myself to only a few glasses of wine. I was worried that I might have lost my tolerance for alcohol and was afraid of getting drunk and making a mistake that could expose me. I was alright to drive myself home.

"Did you have a good time?" Connie asked when we got back to the apartment.

"I really did." I appreciated her setting it all up, getting everyone to come.

"I was watching you out there dancing. You did really well. I was impressed."

I reminded her, "We danced quite a bit that night Pat and I went out. I was still a little nervous, though."

"You seemed to get over it." She said, smiling.

I knew she was referring to the way I danced, just like the other girls. "I felt a little silly. I didn't know you were watching." Not that it would have mattered.

"You didn't look silly. Besides, all the girls dance that way. You fit right in."

Neither of us was hungry. We had nibbled on enough hors d’oeuvres to make up for dinner. I was a little tired. I was content to change and get comfortable in front of the TV.

I did wonder what Christy was doing that night? I wondered if she was sitting home, alone? Or was she out with a date? I was a little annoyed with myself for handling things the way I did. I had no right to get angry and feel jealous. I shouldn't have played games and lied to her about being busy. I thought about calling her then and there, but I didn't. I was afraid I'd find out my concerns were justified. I decided I'd wait till Saturday and call her then.

Of course, that was before I learned that Connie had other plans for us Saturday. "I was wondering, Jen,"

Connie had been referring to me as 'Jen,' off and on for a few days. I didn't mind the nickname. The familiar was kind of nice, not so formal.

"I was wondering if you'd like to get out and take a ride tomorrow? We could go north, and I could show you the mountains?"

I was actually thinking of going into the office in the morning to try to get ahead a little, but it wasn't something I had to do.

All that I'd seen so far of Georgia was the city. "That sounds nice." I agreed. Work could wait.

We got an early start. We drove north out of the city, toward Stone Mountain. It was only a little more than an hour's drive. It was wonderfully relaxing to get away from everything.

Stone Mountain was definitely an impressive sight, but there were too many tourists. We didn't stay more than an hour and headed North again.

I was born and raised in the city. Tall buildings were my mountains. My mother and father took few vacations, and when they did, they were content to stay close to home. I had seen mountains, of course, mostly in New Jersey, but they weren't anything like the ones I saw that Saturday.

I suppose I needed to get away from everything for a day because it felt fantastic to drive aimlessly, just enjoying the views with Connie. We had lunch in a small, quaint roadside restaurant outside of Gillsville. I don’t think I once gave a thought to ‘Jeffrey’ that whole day.

We talked about her for a change. Connie told me more about her life that day than she had since I'd known her. I never knew she had been married once when she was very young. I was shocked to learn that she had a baby by the man, and he forced her to give the infant girl up for adoption. I couldn't fathom any man having enough influence over Connie to make her do something like that, but, as she said, she was very young.

I imagined I was beginning to understand a little better why our relationship had blossomed. I was, in a way, filling the role of the daughter she had lost so many years ago. Judging by how old she said she was when she had the baby, her daughter would have to be close to my age.

The information, unconsciously, cemented my position with this woman. Now that she had found the daughter she had lost, how was I ever going to live with taking her daughter away from her again? I wondered for a second what she'd named the baby?

We continued our trip, swinging East through the mountains, talking through the afternoon.

Shortly after the adoption of her daughter, Connie's husband left her for another woman. She was bitter, so bitter. His reasons for her giving up the baby were obvious. He wanted no permanent ties to bind them. It was obvious by her tone that she still loathed the man.

The experience hardened her for years. She redirected her energies toward her career and ended up where she was that day. This very successful businesswoman would never allow another man to make a single decision for her. Her life was consumed by her work, leaving little time for anything else.

There were a few affairs over the years, but she never let herself get too close to another man. She satisfied herself with married men. It was then that I understood about Kevin Donaldson. She still didn't trust men, even after all those years.

We turned South, down Route 17, passing through deep valleys and rustic small towns. The sky was clear all afternoon, only beginning to turn cloudy around five.

We took Interstate 20 back into Atlanta, stopping about forty miles out at a Pizza Hut for dinner. I was stuffed when we climbed back in the car around seven.

I felt much closer to Connie after our day together, with all she shared with me. She came into my room as I was getting ready for bed. She didn't say anything; she came up to me as I sat on the bed, rubbing my lotion on my legs. She sat beside me. I stopped what I was doing and just looked at her. "What is it?" I asked.

"I just need a hug." She told me.

I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tight. I whispered, "I love you, Mom." Emotion welled up inside me, as it did so often these days. I owed this woman so much for her loving support. She didn't treat me as some sort of freak.

She held me even tighter. "I love you too, Jennifer."

She let me go eventually. She didn't get up and leave right away. She looked at me curiously. "How are you doing?"

I didn't understand. "What do you mean?"

She pointed to her chest. "You feel as though you've gotten bigger, Honey."

I had. There was no doubt about it. "The medication's not working," I admitted. I tried to kid myself, but it was useless.

"May I see?" She asked sweetly.

Why not? I lifted my nightie.

"Oh, Jen. Why didn't you say something?" She asked. "Those hormones the doctor gave you haven't helped at all. You're almost twice as big as you were."

"I take the pills every day. He said it might take time."

"What about the rest of you?"

I knew what she meant. Connie had never seen what had happened to my scrotum. "It's worse."

"Let me see."

I reluctantly pulled down my underwear.

I read the concern on her face."Oh, honey. We've got to get you back to the doctor."

I pulled up my panties. "I don't want to go back to him," I told her.

"Why not?" She asked with concern.

"I'm embarrassed," I admitted. "They all know I'm a man there."

"We've got to do something, Honey." She thought a moment. "Would you go to a different doctor if I went with you?"

I thought a moment. It would be embarrassing, no matter where I went. "I suppose." I had to do something. I couldn't just keep putting it off. I was only kidding myself that my condition would correct itself somehow.

"Leave it to me, Honey." She said with determination.

Once again, I put my complete trust in her. "All right."

We both went to church with Virginia on Sunday. I was thrilled that Connie joined us on the golf course too. She was a terrific golfer, much better than me.

There was no repeat of the previous Sunday's events, and I was grateful. I did wonder about Jack, did he go to the benefit concert with his friends? Silly thought, I decided.

We stopped at Virginia's, and I picked up a half dozen of the new outfits from the bedroom closet. There were still a dozen that remained.

"I've picked out some new things, but they haven't delivered them yet." She informed me.

I couldn't wait to see what she had bought. We didn't stay there long.

Virginia followed us back to Connie's, and we ate dinner there. It was a nice change, having her there at my place.

Carolyn Rogers and a Peter Boyle arrived at the office bright and early to oversee the shoot. I was at my peak, and everything went perfectly. They were very impressed with the proofs I took to Curlin's to show them on Wednesday. With their approval, the first spread would appear in Sunday's paper. They were very pleased with my work, as was I.

The pebble silk double-breasted blazer and skirt that had been hanging in my closet untouched came out Thursday morning. I wore my cream-colored silk shell under the jacket. After putting it on, I decided nothing felt as lovely as silk.

I didn't know why Connie hadn't told me earlier. She waited until we were on our way to work. "I called my doctor and explained your problem. She suggested that we come in and see her before referring you to anyone else. She’s going to see us this morning."

"A woman?" I said apprehensively.

"Don't worry, honey. She's was very good, and who better is there to go to than a woman who specializes in hormonal problems?"

That made sense. "What kind of a doctor is she?"

"She's a gynecologist," Connie told me casually.

"A female doctor!? I can't go into a gynecologist's office."

"Why not?" Connie just looked at me in wonder.

I realized how silly my objections sounded. Calmly, I asked, "What name is my appointment under?"

"I thought it might be easier if I made the appointment under Jennifer Sackett. Doctor Winter didn't mind and thought it might make it easier for you."

I received more than a few compliments on my smart outfit. It occurred to me that I dressed pretty well for a secretary, thanks to Connie and Virginia. I felt a little guilty that I had nicer clothes than most of the women in the office.

We worked till ten and then left for my appointment. I should have kicked myself for doubting Connie, even for a moment. I should have known better. To the receptionist, I was just another female patient. Only the doctor would know. Better it be a woman doctor than a man, and Connie was there with me.

I was a little uneasy, sitting in the waiting room waiting for them to call us. Connie and I filled out the doctor's forms together. "You can't do that." I said quietly when Connie checked off 'female' on the sheet of paper.

"You don't want the doctor's receptionist or his nurse to know, do you?"

"No, but can't we get in trouble for doing that?"

"I already cleared it with the doctor. It's alright."

"Well, if the doctor said so."

"Miss Sackett," the receptionist called us and took the completed form. We were escorted to an examining room where the nurse handed me a gown, "if you'll undress and slip this on, I'll be back in a moment."

The nurse asked Connie to wait outside in the waiting room, but Connie set her straight, insisting she was staying with me.

I changed in a hurry. I didn't want anyone walking in on me despite the fact that I left my panties on, and they would have had a very difficult time telling me I was a man with them on.

The nurse was back in a few minutes and took three vials of blood from my arm as I sat on the edge of the table. She weighed me, and I was hardly surprised to see that I weighed only 112 pounds. My blood pressure was a little high, but that was probably because I was so nervous.

"The doctor will be with you in a moment." She told us and left us alone.

"I feel so silly," I told Connie.

"She doesn't need to know any more than she does," Connie remarked. "If the tests come back the way your last ones did, she probably wouldn't even be able to tell by the results that she'd been duped."

Connie had a point.

"Good morning." The doctor said, closing the door behind her. She did look surprised at the sight of me.

She was younger than I expected. She appeared only about thirty-five, no older, and she was not unattractive.

"Good morning Carol," Connie replied. "Jennifer, this is Doctor Winter. Doctor, meet Jennifer."

I was tongue-tied.

She smiled pleasantly as she addressed me. "I'm a little surprised. Connie explained your situation. She tried to tell me what to expect but . . . "

Her reaction was understandable.

"Which would you prefer? Jeffrey or Jennifer?" The doctor asked me.

The latter would probably be less confusing. "Jennifer's fine." What else could I say? I was so nervous."

She grinned. "Charming." She turned to Connie. "You didn't lie. He's delightful and gorgeous."

I was sure she meant it to be a compliment. I certainly wouldn't have minded being thought of as handsome again. But then, when I thought about it, I was never handsome.

"Let's have a look at you, Jennifer." The doctor suggested when the kidding was over. "Please lift your gown for me."

It was embarrassing, of course, to expose myself to this stranger, wearing a woman's panties, but better her than a man.

"I'm just going to pull these down for a second and peak." She told me. She had them down off my hips before I knew what was happening.

"Mmmmm. Jennifer, you certainly have suffered some changes." It was weird for her to touch me there. She pushed and probed a little but didn't hurt me. "All right, you can pull them up now."

I didn't waste a second getting them up.

The doctor was very business-like. "Now, we'll just examine your chest. Lift, please."

It felt very strange, but I followed her direction and raised the gown again.

She touched. She poked. She squeezed. "All right, you can put the gown down now."

She offered nothing. The expression on her face did not betray what she was thinking.

"What was your normal weight before you began noticing any changes?"

I gave her all the details of everything I'd experience in the past months. She wrote it all down, thoughtfully.

"Do you have the results of the last tests that were run on you? I’d like to have them to compare to today’s test results come back."

I didn't know to bring them.

"Here they are, Carol." Connie withdrew the documents from her purse.

I thought I left them in the bedroom. Another of Connie's devious little tricks to help me from feeling nervous before it was necessary. Like not mentioning the appointment until she had to.

She scanned the tests from early July. They were a month and a half old.

"You've been on hormone therapy since these were taken?"

"Yes, faithfully."

Again Connie went into her purse. She handed the doctor the brown bottle that I thought I left in the kitchen cabinet that morning. "Every day." Connie reinforced.

She looked at the prescription and handed the bottle back to Connie.

After looking the readout over, she said, "Alright, Jennifer, you can get dressed now." She looked up from her clipboard. "When you're dressed, come next door to my office." She turned to Connie. "May I talk to you for a moment while Jennifer's getting dressed?"

"Of course."

"We'll just be next door." The doctor told me, and she and Connie left me to dress.

I was inquisitive about what she was saying next door to Connie. I didn't waste any time.

"I was just asking Connie if you were undergoing therapy of any kind." Doctor Winter explained as I came in and sat in the chair next to Connie.

"Therapy? No, why?"

"Well, you've apparently undergone quite a transformation, and I was curious how you're adjusting. You've obviously decided to adapt your lifestyle to accommodate the changes in your body. I'm simply concerned with the psychological effects."

"I feel fine," I assured her. I didn't want any part of going to a therapist, exposing my dilemma to anyone I didn't need to.

"Jennifer's very well adjusted," Connie assured her.

"I can see that." She said, looking me over again. "By the way, Jennifer, I love that outfit."

"Thank you," I responded, smiling. I loved the way it looked on me.

She looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, smiling, then directed her attention back to my folder on her desk. "Given the information here and my brief examination, I have to believe we're dealing with two unique problems, Jennifer. First, your body is, for some unexplained reason, producing high levels of female hormones. While the male metabolism is normally capable of producing these hormones, and it is very normal for it to do so, the levels in your system are very high. They are even a little high for the average woman."

"The second half of the equation is even more complex. According to your last test results, the male hormones that your body should be producing are not in evidence. Something has caused your body to stop producing them and seems to be combating the medication you've been taking."

She closed the folder and looked directly at me. "It's this half of the problem that most concerns me."

She continued, "Jennifer, I'm a specialist in hormone therapy, and I have to admit that I've never seen a case like yours. There is virtually no history, to my knowledge, of a case where the male metabolism simply quit producing hormones without some type of trauma or medication. There is no precedence."

She confused me. "So what do I do?"

"For right now, nothing. Let's wait until your tests come back, and I can confirm the results. They should be back no later than Tuesday. After that, we'll set up a strategy to attack this problem. It will require close monitoring. I'll need to see you at least once a week for tests. We'll watch your progress very closely. I'll call you on Tuesday with the test results. We'll set up your next appointment then."

I assumed an easy answer would be found to my problem. The disappointment must have been evident in my tone. "Should I keep taking the prescription?"

She looked at me curiously, "It hasn't seemed to have any effect so far, but yes, you should. There are several other things we can try, but what you've been taking should have worked. We'll decide on Tuesday what we're going to do." She stood up, indicating the appointment was concluded.

Connie and I thanked the doctor. "We'll do anything it takes, Carol. I'll personally make sure Jennifer keeps her, his appointments and faithfully takes the medication."

And Connie would. Of that, I was confident.

As Connie and I rose, Doctor Winter added. "I think you should seriously consider some therapy, Jennifer, to help you through this difficult time." She took a notebook out of her desk and flipped through it till she found what she was looking for. "This is the number of a highly respected specialist you should call."

She jotted the name and number on a piece of paper and handed it to me.

Connie glanced at the name, "What's her specialty?"

"Gender disorders."

I didn't like the sound of that. I put the card in my purse.

Coming out of her office, I didn't feel reassured. "What were you two talking about while I was getting dressed?"

"She was concerned about your mental condition with everything that’s happened to you and with you trying to live as a woman," Connie explained as we walked to the car.

"My mental condition?"

"She was just worried that you might be having emotional problems with pretending to be a woman. She didn't understand that there wasn't a problem. I told her you were quite well adjusted and happy." Connie said, trying to reassure me.

I wondered if I shouldn't have been more honest with Connie and told her how insecure I was at times. It would serve no purpose now, I decided. I did ask, "Do you think I should see her specialist?"

She turned to me. "I think we should wait and see what the tests show. If you feel the need after that, we can make an appointment. I think you're doing fine, though."

Connie was right. I was fine. I didn't like the thought of someone trying to probe my psyche, delving into my past. I was well adjusted; I didn't need therapy. I didn't consider for a second that my problem wasn't curable.