Denise; Hair And Makeup Forever
My older sister and I were at each other’s throats again. Totally impossible to get through a day without a major blow-up. Some of these disagreements were ridiculous in their absurdity. My sister blamed me, and I, of course, blamed my sister, a typical brother-sister relationship. Recently most of these were about my future since I was going nowhere fast, after graduating high school.
I tried the get a job thing, failing miserably right from the start. My grades were atrocious, I had no previous experience, choosing not to work during my summers during high school. I think the biggest turn off is my attitude. Like it isn’t my fault that I didn’t study or make even a token effort to learn something. At times, I got so wrapped up in myself, that I actually thought that I was owed something for just suffering through high school.
Barely graduated high school was a better analogy, in a class of 575 students I only managed to place 545. That and my total lack of drive meant that I was not looked upon as a likely candidate for employment. Sis had tried numerous times to motivate me to do anything, as long as it is a step forward. I continued to vegetate, and the arguments get worse between us. I just didn’t care, my life sucked, and it isn’t going to get better, so I stopped trying.
Dad left us when we were toddlers since apparently Mother was not enough woman for him. We later learned that he had five different affairs during the first seven years of their marriage. Mom tried to keep us together overlooking the affairs in an effort to keep the family together. After Dad had left, Mom was eventually able to get child support, partly due to the laws of this state and partly due to the attorney that Mom had hired. All along he maintained that he was not the father, hoping to evade the child support.
For a while, there was concern if both of us were actually fathered by him. Mom was sure, but as strong as Dad was denying it did leave considerable doubt. Mom even went as far as getting DNA tests on both of us, to prove that he indeed was our father. That data proved that Dad is our father, and Mom’s attorney took advantage of it. It did take the attorney over a year to track my father down and get the judgments against him.
Needless to say, he was not prompt with the child support, even missing months at a time when he was apparently switching girlfriends. It made it very hard for Mom as she had to work two jobs for a while to help support us. Mom never complained, at least, to us about her plight, since it was necessary, she just did it.
Shirley, my older sister, ended up with the duties of raising me as Mom was often working to provide for us. Shirley is very intelligent, a straight A student all the way through high school. She was offered three scholarships after high school but passed over the best ones so she could stay local to help raise me. Three years separated us, but at times, it seemed like ten.
I think she was a little peeved since she had to stay local because of me. I am sure that has contributed to the hostility between us. Nobody made her choose to stay here, but she felt she owed it to our Mom to do so. Since Mom was not around much, I blamed all of my troubles on Shirley, although none of them were ones that she had caused.
Then the unthinkable happens, and Mom dies in a car accident. No close relatives other than our Grandmother, so that is where we ended up. At least, we are not in foster homes. Shirley now has total responsibility for me since Grandma is ninety-two. We live in Grandmother’s house across town from where we were raised, but everything is relatively the same. Grandmother is head of the household figuratively, but because of her age, Shirley is the one making the decisions.
Shirley assumed the duties of head of the household trying to keep everything together. The arguments between us continue, with me challenging every decision she makes while doing nothing to help around the house. I knew things could be much worse, but for some reason, I couldn’t give in or stop the verbal abuse.
One of the few good things that happened was that Shirley had hired an attorney shortly after the accident since the driver that killed Mom was four times over the limit for alcohol. A suit was filed, and the insurance company for the drunk settled out of court for three million dollars. This changed things as we now had some money. Shirley immediately started making plans to make things easier for everyone.
Shirley and Grandma talked things over for days, but I was left out of the loop. I know Shirley was concerned about care for Grandma, with mom dead we were her only living relatives. Grandma had a little social security, plus her husband's railroad retirement, but not enough to care for her for very long. Up until the settlement, we had drained some of those funds that were for her care as we had no income to offset our expenses.
Since Shirley is 21 now, she was given custody of me until I turned 21. I was 18, but not legally an adult in this state. Shirley’s decision boiled down to her wanting to take advantage of some of her offered scholarships; I guess the problem was where I fitted into all of this. Obviously, Grandma couldn’t look after me, just managing to be able to take care of herself.
The resulting decisions were announced after several weeks of discussions. Shirley was paying so Grandma could be put into an assisted living complex. Someone would be there to help her if needed, and her meals and medical transportation were furnished. Obviously, Shirley was very responsible wanting to see that Grandma was taken care of then looking at what would be best for us.
Shirley decided on a school in the far west that offered her one of the scholarships a few months ago. It was a private university renowned for its academic excellence but in the middle of nowhere. Its isolation is on purpose, no distractions to interfere with the absorption of knowledge. What to do with me is the topic of several talks between Shirley and me over the next few days.
I am thankful for Shirley since I came to depend on her for most everything. I really didn’t know what I would have done if I had been placed in foster care after mom had died. Mom had given me the name of Dennis when born, and although I got into a little trouble when younger, it was mainly because of the group, I hung out with. I got through school, but barely, earning mainly C’s and a few D’s. Not a very good start on a productive life, more like waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I wasn’t dumb just never applied myself to anything; both studies and athletics included. I was 5ft. 10in. tall and weighed 140 pounds, of average build without wide shoulders, but a little too much butt for a male. My face was fairly androgynous, easily recognized as a male, but definitely not considered dating material. In school, I was lonely, being excluded by both sexes. Not worthy as a buddy to a male, not macho enough for a female as a date. A definite no man’s land for a high school kid.
If there was someone who tried to get closer to me, my attitude would send them running, my hostility and hate of most everything made me a social pariah. There were even a few females that I would love to have some contact with in my sophomore year, but I shut them out with my attitude, partly because I was afraid of them getting to know me and rejecting me. The attitude insured that I would not be rejected since they wanted nothing to do with me in the first place.
Sis tried her best to help me find a place where I could fit in but to no avail. She even set me up with a date or two when she was still in high school, but after the first date, there was no further interest. I argued with my sister mainly because she was always Miss Goody Two Shoes. She’s smart, her opinions are usually right, her friends were true friends, and her actions were favored by others making her almost perfect. By contrast, I am the exact opposite; I respected her I just couldn’t let her know that I did. Thus the arguments, never admitting that she is right, never giving in.
Shirley thought she knew what some of my problem was. Her assumption was that we were too much alike, independent or, at least, wanting to be, and single-minded. To forestall any more arguments she wanted me to find out what I wanted to do with life and plan how I would go about it. “If you make a genuine effort to research and plan your future, I will allow you to pursue that goal. If you do the usual half-ass thing that you are famous for, I will decide for you and implement the steps to make it come true.”
My choice one way or another. “Since your university is in the middle of the Arizona desert, how will that figure into my future?”
“Come up with your plan and goal, and I will discuss it with you. You have until the middle of September to decide and plan your future. If you fail in that pursuit, you will be moving with me to Arizona, and staying there until my schooling is finished in three years.” She was actually encouraging me to pick a future and pursue it. I thanked her for allowing me to have a say in what happens to me since I am aware that she didn’t have to take into consideration my wishes.
Since today is the first of August, I had six weeks to put together a plan. I had hoped to convince her that I could rise to the occasion and persuade her of my interests and goals. The discussion ended there for the night, and the next day I started researching some options. For several days, I was on the internet all day. I checked every job I ever had any interest in, whether it was a current interest or something from years gone by.
Since I had just recently graduated from high school, I soon realized that I was living in a dream world. I found out that to go further in education; I needed good grades. Unfortunately, I wasted my time in high school, always eager to fart around rather than buckle down and study. Now that extremely restricted my choices of what I could do, making a few of my choices downright impossible. I tried to stay focused and moved on to others when some choices were not an option.
Any future academic schooling is ruled out by my horrible grades, and even a community college would not take me since my GPA is so low, believe me, I tried every small college in the area, even a few in Arizona, but the same answer always surfaced.
I managed to talk one school into letting me take a scholastic test to see what I had learned, but I never followed up on that since I am sure that a grade school student could have done better on the test than I did. It is pretty pathetic when you can only answer about a quarter of the questions asked. I did recall studying the material, but none of the relevant material stayed with me.
As the days went by, my possible list was getting shorter and shorter. I even resorted to talking with Shirley asking if there were any other choices that I haven’t considered. At least, she didn’t rub the fact that I hadn’t applied myself to my studies in my face. I knew she was thinking it, but she tactfully didn’t bring it up in the conversation.
She did suggest that I consider trade schools, usually easy to get into without requirements for previous course work and higher grades. When I went online to check out what was offered, I was disappointed since the majority of the trades were service type of jobs or industrial jobs. Beautician, manicurist, hotel clerk, welder, mechanic, and office assistant were the type of jobs that were listed in their curriculum.
I wasn’t against that type of job, but I thought that I could find something much more appropriate for myself. It ended up being an ego problem; I just couldn’t see myself being in any of those careers. I was dreaming of the good life, but couldn’t admit to the fact that I didn’t have a life to start with.
The other field that was included in their curriculum is computer related jobs. That was a field that I knew nothing about and zero interest in learning anything about it. I could find my way on the internet, and that is about the extent of my skills. I fantasized about working in a computer-related job, but that is where it ended, a fantasy.
Computer-related jobs scared me to death, access to a pot of gold, but it required actual work and dedication to succeed. I had never worked hard for anything and wasn’t even sure what the word dedication meant. If I had realized what was at stake, I might have selected a career that is only a maybe, did some research and applied myself to the task. Then again I was naïve, I did nothing and continued to question everything Shirley did. Two weeks had passed, and I had nothing to show for the time spent.
“Why don’t you take a battery of tests to pinpoint your IQ, your interests, and basic psychological profile? That would let you know maybe some new possibilities for your research.” Surprisingly, she was able to schedule the tests for the next day. I for one thought that she had this arranged for quite some time, waiting until the last minute to suggest it.
The testing was done at a local psychologist’s office, a full day of testing. By the end of the day, I had a severe headache from using my brain too much. It could also be that a headache resulted from a lack of use, not used too much. I think the lack of use reason is more the truth. The testing almost seemed hard to me, and I sweated the answers even though they were only indicating interests and skills. I finished the test at three P.M., and it took them an hour to grade and score the test. Then I met with the psychologist as she told me the results.
I kind of listened but ended up tuning her out as she mumbled on about my results. I heard about having an artistic flair at one point, also being out of the normal range on the male/female ratio. I quickly forgot about both of them, since it didn’t tell me that I should be a welder or a mechanic. I thought that the testing would tell me what job I am qualified for. Instead, it only indicated jobs that I might be better suited for. As I left, I chalked it up to a wasted day, one in which I got a massive headache to boot.
When I returned home, Shirley greeted me, wanting to find out how I did. I handed her the test results that the psychologist gave me and searched the kitchen for something to eat. I found some leftover pizza, annihilated it and grabbed a can of diet Pepsi. I was heading to my room when Shirley asked what the psychologist said. I mumbled a few things then made my way to my room. Here I was given some of the answers that might help me but chose to ignore them all. I was lost now; nothing seemed to be going the way I wanted, my options getting less and less.
I knew I had to do something or I would face my sister’s choice for my career and life. I couldn’t let that happen, somehow I had to make a decision, one with some planning and thought involved. Slightly more than three weeks remained and I was not any closer to any decision much less any research or planning. Time kept moving along faster than I perceived, ending up with a week left and me with no viable option.
A lot of this time was spent in my room dreaming of what I could do, of being selected to head a company, or develop a new product. Besides wasting the time that I needed to plan something, it kept me unfocused and spinning wheels. When I dream, I tend to overdo it, a simple dream of having a job that provided food and shelter had lost out to me as a corporate leader, arranging hostile takeovers or mergers.
I was desperate for some type of result that I could give to her to convince her of my resolve. During that time, she asked a couple of times how I was coming along. I made some excuse, but she saw through the façade. Never once did she rub my nose in it or put me on the spot. Apparently she was determined that I am going to succeed or fail on my own terms, taking away any excuses that I could use at a later date that she had manipulated me in some manner.
I knew that my time had run out, only a couple of days left, and no decision from me on what I wanted to do with my life. Maybe it was more what could I do with my life since I had messed up pretty bad, making all the wrong decisions and failing to put even forth a minimal effort to succeed. I had a sinking feeling that Arizona was in my future, no make that I am positive I would be doing what Shirley had picked for me and very soon in the Grand Canyon State.
The last few days came and went faster than I realized, it is now late Wednesday afternoon. “Get dressed, I am taking you out to dinner.” I knew that the ax was soon to fall, for one thing, she is too happy. I slipped on a pair of cargo pants and a nicer t-shirt and met her downstairs. She drove us to a restaurant on the other side of town, one that had good food, but due to the distance from out home, we seldom had the chance to eat there.
The Maître’d seated us then a waitress left menus and took our drink order. Shirley wasted no time in asking what I was most fearful of. “What have you decided on and what research have you done?” I stuttered for a while, trying to delay the judgment time. The waitress came back to take our orders, after leaving us our drinks.
As happens in most of these cases, no one came to save me, and the food took longer than usual to prepare, thus leaving way too much time for me to fill. I finally gave up, deciding that the truth might be the only way out. If a little sympathy came along as a result of my endeavors, I surely wouldn’t refuse it.
I told Shirley everything from the first day, leaving nothing out of the story. Every last detail is covered, with me hoping that she could see how hard I had tried. There is silence for quite some time, I didn’t want to make things worse, so I kept quiet. Of course, the food now arrived, why it couldn’t have come when I was faltering trying to get my way out of a situation, I will never know.
We silently ate for several minutes; actually, it was almost twenty minutes. The food is excellent, but I don’t think the quality of the food was going to save me tonight. As we finished the meal, the waitress came to take the plates away and ask if we wanted dessert. We declined, and I knew that the moment of reckoning is here.
“I am proud of you, that you told me the truth and not tried to make something up. Maybe doing this exercise taught you something that I have been trying to get through your thick skull for several years.”
“Sis, I realize that my lack of effort in school has put me in a difficult situation without a whole lot of choices available.” She asked again about the trade schools, and I told her that I had considered them but was not sure that I could be a welder or mechanic.
“The time to own up to the situation is now upon you. You need to do something with your life, or your future might be a lot less inviting than you have imagined.” Again, silence for a while, she is determined to make me come up with the solution or plan to make something of my life. I didn’t know what to pick or do with nothing sounding good or achievable.
After a brief but stressful few moments, she asked “Have you considered any other of the vocational careers?”
“No, since I really don’t have a clue about any of them.” She asked for the last time if I had any indication of the direction I wanted to pursue. I knew that the moment when she would take over the direction of my life is at hand. I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t have a clue.”
She giggled a little bit. “We will leave for Arizona Friday morning, the flight departing at eight-thirty A.M.” She paid the check, and we left. I am discouraged, but Sis had given me more than enough opportunities to pick my career, so I knew the fault for the situation is mine. It was a silent ride home, with me at a loss for words. I didn’t know what to say, and Sis was trying not to make matters worse for me.
When we got home, I am told that the movers would be here tomorrow morning, and they would pack everything for us. After the moving van is packed and left, we would stay at a motel tomorrow evening and then leave there for the airport the next morning. I am not happy, but I knew it is my own fault.
I laid awake in bed for several hours, trying to figure out what I could do to change my fate in the next several days. Nothing came to mind, and sleep finally overtook me. The next day seemed to fly by as the movers packed everything and loaded the van. I did help Sis clean the house before we left for the motel. She had arranged to rent the house to provide some extra income for Grandma and preserve a possible investment property for later. As usual she was thinking of others and looking ahead to the future.
We settled into the motel, and I dropped off to sleep as I had done more today than I have for quite some time. I was shaken awake shortly after seven A.M. We had taken showers the night before, so all we had to do is get dressed. There was complimentary coffee in the room, so we each had a cup and a bagged pastry that was also free.
The motel front desk told us that a shuttle was there to take us to the airport. Shirley had earlier arranged to turn in her lease car at their airport terminal since they had a facility there. Since the motel was only blocks away they would come by later today and pick up the car at the motel. Since she didn’t want to drive the car to Arizona, she managed to convince them that it would be in their best interest to take the old one back and issue a new lease car out in Arizona. It did save the long drive out there and would get her an updated version of the car.
We were dropped off at the terminal, made our way to the ticket counter and checked in our baggage. Then through security and out to the boarding gate. All of this is done in a timely manner, with us arriving at the gate as the plane is pulling up. We watched as the departing passengers filed through the gate, and then twenty minutes later they started boarding passengers for the flight to Tucson, Arizona.
According to Sis, Tucson was the closest large town to where we would be living. The distance between our new home and Tucson is about 45 miles. Her college is between our new home and Tucson. It is a private college known for their training and education of future executives. Eighty-five percent of their graduates are hired during their senior year even before graduation.
Shirley had a lot of her credits for graduation already completed at the local colleges, so her next three years were more of a graduate school in executive management. She had talked with the school quite a bit and her next three years were planned out in detail. The first year is loaded down with financial courses, the second year heavy in personnel development and management, and the last year overall corporate management and future planning.
Through an internet broker, Sis had bought a small ranch with a very impressive Spanish style Hacienda on it. The owner had been transferred to another company branch in South America and wanted to sell. According to the broker, Sis got it at a very lucrative price. It was partly furnished, and the land was currently planted in Jojoba’s, a specialty crop, but highly sought after. A company had leased the Jojoba fields from the previous owner and handled all the care and harvesting of the crop.
Back at the loading gate, we were one of the first boarded, selecting our seats in first class since they had very few passengers. The flight lasted about two hours in duration, and soon we were circling Tucson to land. We didn’t say much to each other on the flight, I didn’t know what to say and I think she wanted to withhold any information until we were settled in at our new home. Since the air traffic is heavy, we were delayed almost twenty minutes as they got everybody else on the ground. Several times during the flight I wondered what Sis had in mind for me, I knew she would be fair, but doubted that I would like the choice she would make for me.
Then we had to wait a little longer as our gate was in use from one of the previous flights. Sitting on a plane on one of the taxi ramps is not the best way to kill time. After thirty minutes, we finally got to the gate. We departed the plane and made our way to baggage claim. We again had to wait as they were obviously behind due to the arrival of so many planes at the same time. Another twenty minutes and our luggage finally appeared on the belt.
Sis had left me to get the luggage since it was only two suitcases, and she went to arrange for pickup of her lease car. I met her at the counter, as she was finishing up with the contracts. Their porter took our luggage and escorted us to the car. It turned out to be a new Toyota Prius since they did not have her requested model. She asked if they would trade the car later when her model was available, but if it was okay with her, they would substitute her choice with the Prius. Sis is no dummy, she smiled and told them that would be fine.
With the time change, it was coming up three P.M., so she decided to stay in town and drive out to the Hacienda tomorrow. Since the moving van would not be there until Monday morning, we would have plenty of time. She found a nice motel at the first exit out of Tucson along I-10. Although I was fighting the feeling, I liked the area and the climate, much drier than we had been used to back home. I still couldn’t admit that Shirley had made the best choice in matters.
There were several restaurants within walking distance, so we decided to stay there. The motel is nice, a recent addition to a large chain since all the rooms are new. Although the area is a tourist stop, the representation of motels and restaurants is quite extensive.
She checked in, and we made ourselves comfortable in the room. I guess all the excitement caught up with us as we both dozed off shortly after that. Two hours later we woke to her cell phone ringing. It turned out to be the real estate people checking to be sure we arrived safely. The saleslady that had handled the sale was going to meet us there at the hacienda to show us around and make sure there were no problems with the property. Sis told her we would go out the property in the morning right after breakfast. The real estate sales lady said she would make arrangements to meet us there.
Hunger is the next problem, so we cleaned up a little and made our way to the steakhouse right down the street. Since they had the largest crowd, we presumed that the food was probably better than the rest. We are seated and given menus, and two seconds later a waitress is there to get our drink order. Three minutes later she is back with our drinks, wanting to know if we had decided yet.
We nodded in the affirmative, with Sis getting a petite sirloin with baked potato and squash. I decided on the chuck steak, baked potato, and a three bean salad. Apparently the service here is outstanding considering what we had experienced so far.
After she left, I ask Sis what is next for me. “I have something lined up for you, in a field that you have never shown any interest in. The psych tests showed a great aptitude for this career, and I want you to try it for three months before you turn it down. It is way out of your comfort zone, so I want you to withhold judgment until the end of the three months.”
“If you apply yourself and gave it a fair shake, I will consider other options after the three months are up if you don’t want to continue in this line of endeavor.” I nodded my head since I was the one that failed to take advantage of options and failed in my education so far. She wouldn’t tell me anymore, but hinted that I would start Monday at the school. I thought that was a pretty rushed start date, but after all the trouble I had given Shirley in the past, I decided that cooperation for a change would be the best approach.
The food is served, and it looked so good, with the baked potato a noticeable standout, although the steak was in the running for best-looking meat item. The potato is five inches long, and three inches in diameter, definitely not a standard sized potato. The amenities provided for the potato were awesome. A tray consisting of ten different accouterments specifically for the baked potato was brought out. Sour cream, ranch dressing, cheese, bacon bits, mayonnaise, were just a few of the offered choices.
The steaks were juicy, but when cut into, the meat was cooked, a feat not often managed by any restaurant these days. It apparently is a prime cut of meat as the steak is tender, and the taste is magnificent. It had been grilled over an open flame with the imprints of the grill showing on both sides of the meat. Of course, I devoured the steak and potato leaving the plate clean and spotless. It was so good I was tempted to lick the plate clean, but the little common sense that I possessed kicked in and I let it be.
We ate and talked about the ranch she had bought, as it is her idea to sell it after she completed her education, making a nice little profit in the interim. There were four bedrooms in the house each with their own bathroom, living room, a den, and a kitchen-dining room combination. There were 3200 square feet in the house, an adobe construction with red tile roof. It sounded fantastic, all of the pictures of the house backed up the fact that the house was a steal at the price that Sis bought it for.
We finished, and she paid the bill as we headed back to the motel. Sis asked that when we got back to the motel she had something she wanted to talk to me about, a piece of information that I had apparently failed to tell her about. I blushed quickly fearing that she had somehow found out my little secret. I couldn’t figure out how since I thought I had covered my tracks extremely well.
I clammed up on the walk to the motel, fearing the worst. When we made it to the room, she told me to go shower and change into my pajamas and then join her in the living room. She had rented a suite, consisting of a bedroom, a bathroom, and a living/sitting room. I removed my clothes and took a shower, even washed my shoulder length hair. The bathroom had a hair dryer and so I dried my hair before I left the bathroom.
As I went to my bed where I had left my suitcase, I noticed a pair of panties and a short baby doll nightie. This was it, she knew about my hobby, I was doomed. I dropped the towel and crumpled on the bed in tears. I was positive that it couldn’t get any worse.
I am sure Shirley heard me crying, but she made no effort to come to the bedroom or console me. After a few moments, I heard her at the bedroom door. “Wipe your tears, put on the panties and nightie and come out to the living room.” I did that, dreading it all the way. I feared the worst since I had been dressing in her clothes for several years now, a hobby that had started when our mother died. It made me feel a little closer to her and Sis since I am virtually friendless at school. I slowly walked out and sat on the love seat next to her, but my eyes never left the floor.
Normally when I dressed in her clothes, an excitement would course through my body as I slipped on her clothes. Tonight is totally different; I am scared to death of what she would say or do to me. A couple of times over the last few years I had longed to tell Sis about this fetish of mine. As usual, the indecision on my part put the discussion off, now all was to come out, and this is not the best of times for this revelation to surface.
She had me sit on the floor in front of her and started brushing my hair. My hair had grown quite a bit and was shoulder length, but had not been styled in years. As she ran the brush through my hair, my mind just melted. Shirley brought me back to reality. “I need you to explain about your dressing in my clothes from the start, and do not leave anything out.” I was quite for several minutes, how can I tell her about my proclivity for dressing as a female.
I knew that the truth would have to be shared with her, she knew too much already and had waited until she had me cornered before she brought it up. I hated how smart she is, my efforts dealing with her definitely at a distinct disadvantage.
“It started right after Mom died. I felt alone and found when I visited her room and especially her closet, I felt a little better. At first, I just touched her clothes, remembering her and how she treated me, then after a particular silky item gave me the chills, I decided to indulge in caressing a few of her more silky items. Then the next step was to slip them on and experience the delicious feelings as they slipped down over my body.”
“That ended when you gave all of Mom’s clothes to the thrift store. I sat for days in my room trying to figure out what I was going to do. I felt more alone in those few weeks than I had ever been before. Then you had me doing the laundry to keep me occupied and help out. The first time that some of your clothes came through the wash, I was lured again into the web of the soft, silky clothes. At first, it was just the feeling of the clothes and the memories that they brought forth.”
“Then as weeks passed the emphasis changed to wanting to be in the clothes, experiencing how they made my body look female. That also evolved as I wanted to see myself as a female, instead of a male dressing in some dress or skirt. Finally, I ended up with the deep compulsion to dress and act like a girl. I did it as often as I could manage, having to do it when you were at classes or away from the house for an errand or chore.”
Shirley had been listening, with no comments on my history in cross-dressing. When I paused for quite some time, feeling worn out and drained of any energy, “how far do you want to take the transformation.”
“I am not sure how far I want to go. I loved the clothes, the feelings that went with it, and as a female, I just felt that it was right.” We sat in silence for quite some time, the brush running through my hair giving me goose pimples.
It was getting late, and she told me we had a long day tomorrow. She told me to open my suitcase and hang up the clothes so that they would lose a few of the wrinkles, caused by being packed in a suitcase. After that, she wanted me in bed next to her. She had got a room with two double beds but thought that I might like to cuddle with her tonight. My response was I would like that a lot. When I opened my suitcase, I immediately thought that I had gotten the wrong one. All of the clothes were for a female and a feminine one at that. I looked at the label that we had put on the suitcase at home, and it was the right one.
I gave her a quizzical look, but she just smiled. I was told again that I needed to hang my clothes in the closet and come to bed. The emphasis is on my clothes. I quickly looked around the room for my male clothes that I had taken off before the shower and nothing is there. I started hanging the clothes and am surprised that most of the clothes are the ones that I had picked when I dressed in her things.
At the bottom of the suitcase was quite a bit of lingerie, including panties, bras, a corset, stockings, and assorted other feminine undergarments. During all of this, the panties and the nightie that I had been required to wear was doing its best to dominate my thoughts. As the material caressed my body, my mind went into that state where it was just a mushy mixture of thoughts, quite delightful thoughts.
After accomplishing my task, I returned to the bedroom. Shirley is finishing in the bathroom and turned out the light. She walked over grabbing my hand and led me to the bed. I got a hug and a kiss on the cheek as she helped me slip into bed. She went to the other side and after settling in rolled over and hugged me as we lay there. She made me promise to tell her everything in the future, no lies, no withholding of thoughts or feelings. I felt guilty of how I had treated her over the last few months, and yet she has accepted a part of me without reservation. I promised her I would act differently in the future as I slipped off into dreamland.
I awoke first, just lying there with Sis’s arm around my body. I felt different somehow, closer to her, more aware of my surroundings. The nightie still felt good as it hugged my chest and shoulders. Then I had a sudden urge to use the bathroom, trying to slip out of Shirley’s grasp and not wake her an impossible task. I barely made it, since the delightful feeling of the panties sliding down my leg almost made me forget what I had to do.
The relief was very welcome, sitting down a new experience. When I dressed in some of Sis’s clothes my adventure never went beyond dressing in some of her clothes. I didn’t do things like a female, mainly because I was not aware that there is a difference between male and female actions. Today, sitting to use the bathroom just felt like it was the right thing to do. I know that telling Sis everything was a welcome relief to me last night.
I argued with her a lot, at least, I used to, but, in reality, she is my idol. She is everything that I wished I could be, namely a female. I am jealous of her life, her friends, and her confidence. She had made something of herself, even though life had not been the easiest for her. I was exactly the opposite except like her I wanted to go through life as a female.
Shirley had slipped out of bed as I am coming out of the bathroom. She pointed to the bed, where she had laid what I am to wear for today. Sure enough, Dennis was not to be around today, in fact, I wondered if he is ever going to make another appearance. Shirley had laid out a tan pair of slacks, a pair of knee-highs, a pair of low heel Mary Janes, and an ecru blouse with long sleeves. Except for the shoes, most of the items could be worn by either sex, although the blouse is rather silky and feminine.
I slipped all of the items on over a lacy pair of panties and a white camisole. The image in the mirror stated female, although there was a little wiggle room. Besides there seemed to be no choice since all of my male clothes seemed to have vanished. I was enough off balance that I didn’t want to ask too many questions or ask Shirley what was happening. I am sure that her actions have a purpose, just not sure what that purpose is yet.
Shirley helped me get everything packed so that we could leave. As we were getting everything together and making sure that we had not forgotten anything Shirley took a moment to brush my hair, not putting it into a ponytail like I usually have it. She handed me a lip gloss and told me to touch up my lips. After that task was accomplished, we checked out and headed out to our new home.
Yes, I did say it was our new home, a decidedly new change of attitude for me. I am sure Shirley was just as shocked as me when I made that statement. We stopped at Mickey D’s for a breakfast sandwich then on out to the property. Sis recognized the entrance from some of the pictures that the real estate people had sent her.
The gates are impressive, although already open as we approached. On both sides of the road are fields of what was apparently Jojoba, acres, and acres of the bush. As we made a turn in the road, we saw the Hacienda that was situated in the middle of a clearing between the fields. The house is gorgeous, much more impressive than any picture that I had been shown.
As we pulled up to the house, we saw another car there and after parking, a lady came out of the house. She greeted us introducing herself and asked what Shirley thought of the property. I was ecstatic about the deal, but Sis just replied that it would be adequate. I gave her a funny look, but she was ignoring me. Carla, the real estate agent, showed us through the house then the surrounding outbuildings including a barn and a smaller residence, apparently for someone that worked on the ranch.
We got into Carla’s car, and she drove us around the perimeter of the property, with more Jojoba’s than I have ever seen. Sis really did get a fantastic deal on the property, but poor Carla was left with the impression that Sis was barely satisfied. I am smart enough to keep my mouth shut and replied to only a direct question made of me.
Two hours later Carla went back to town after leaving the keys with my sister. We set down at the bar in the kitchen, and I finally lost it. I asked her how she could sit there and tell Carla that the place was adequate. Sis replied that it took everything she could do to keep a straight face during the tour. She hugged me tightly, saying that we really hit the lottery when we bought this place.
I reminded her that she is the one that bought the place, but she responded that she liked it better when it was we. We made a short list of things that we would need in the next day or two, and then what is needed in furniture for each room. Carla had the electric company turn on the power and Shirley checked to make sure the refrigerator and freezer are functioning before we left.
She had decided to stay one more night at the motel since we needed groceries before we could stay at the house. The plan is to go back to town and shop for furniture, and other nonperishable items, then eat out at a restaurant. After another night at the motel, we would go grocery shopping in the morning, and then head out to the house. That way we would save on trips, and have everything we might need before we settled into the house.
We did make one unscheduled stop at a business in the outskirts of Tucson. It was a beauty school; suddenly it became clear what Shirley had in mind for me. I was led inside and introduced to the manager of the school. Clarissa is her name, a thirtyish lady who seemed very nice. I am reluctant to show much interest because this is not what I envisioned as my career in life. Clarissa took my hand and led me to a group of students working on a female’s hair.
After I had watched for a minute, they were apparently learning to braid hair. I was introduced to the others, as Denise a new student starting next Monday. They were told that my sister and I had stopped by to meet Clarissa and see what is needed for next week. Clarissa told me to pay attention and watch, and then after twenty minutes, I was asked to take my turn at braiding the hair.
I took a few moments to brush the female’s hair and then I tried sectioning the hair into four bundles. The young female had really gorgeous hair that reached down to the middle of her back. I apparently didn’t have it right since my hands were not able to maneuver the hair as I wanted. I brushed it again and started over. This time, I managed to get my hands in the right place, and the braid came together like it is supposed to.
I was so proud of myself that I managed to do something well, instead of fumbling and failing. Clarissa complimented me, then pulled me and another student, Grace over to a manicure station. Grace had been a student for over four months and knew what she is doing. Clarissa wanted Grace to give me acrylic extensions, and then red polish to finish off the manicure. I am told to watch carefully, and then when Grace has finished, I am to do the same to her fingernails.
I looked up at Clarissa, then over to my sister wondering how I was going to manage this feat. Both were just smiling at me, so I presume that I had to try at least. I hope Grace will not be upset at what I do to her nails. Grace stuck my hands in a couple of bowls of the solution, and I soaked for about ten minutes. She pulled one of my hands out and proceeded to push and trim my cuticles. Then my nails were filed and shaped into neat ovals.
She then used a file to roughen up the top of the nail, before attaching forms that fit my nail and extended past the tip of the nail by at least three-quarters of an inch. She mixed up the acrylic material and brushed it over my nail including covering the extended form. My hands are put in a nail dryer, and it took about twenty minutes for the material to harden.
The forms were removed, and my nails are filed again into the nicely rounded ovals. Then a base coat is applied, followed by three coats of red polish. Each coat is dried separately, and then to finish off the manicure, a clear top coat was applied to each nail.
All during this process Grace is trying to engage me in conversation. She wanted to know where I am from, what I liked in school, and if I had any boyfriends. I looked at Sis when that question was asked, not really knowing how to respond. Sis came to my rescue telling Grace that up to now I had not been allowed to date since the area we lived in was full of undesirables.
I am trying to remember each step Grace has done, not paying attention to how my nails were looking. When I took a minute to concentrate on their looks, I was floored. With the longer extensions and the bright red polish my hands were no longer a part of me, they belonged to some female goddess, and they were so pretty.
Now the hard part, doing the same thing for Grace. I followed the steps she had done to me, soaking the nails to soften the cuticle. Then removing the cuticle, I roughed up the surface of the nails, then added the forms. The longer nails did make life more interesting as the length constantly is getting in the way of everything I am trying to do. I did manage, but it seemed that I was clumsy more often than not.
Clarissa did help me mix the acrylic material, but I managed to get the mixture spread evenly over the forms. Under the dryer for a while then I removed the forms and filed the nails into neat ovals. I applied the polish like Grace had done for me and then the gloss to finish off the nails. Grace is amazed at my skill and asked if I had done some of this previously. I told her it is my first time, although I don’t think she believed me.
All the time Clarissa and Sis had been watching me from a nearby love seat, with both of them sporting smiles. Clarissa sent Grace back to the group and asked Sis and me to come to her office. I took a seat in the office, ready to hear how much I had screwed up things, I thought I had done well for my first time, but knew that I never achieved success at anything I did. I figured that this would be just another episode in my fouled up life.
Clarissa complimented me on my skill but is more interested if I liked the experience. I told her it was different but yes it is fun and enjoyable. Clarissa told Sis that she could probably have me complete the schooling in a much shorter period than the eighteen months that most students require. While I was there, she had me fill out a bunch of applications, regarding the beauty school, and the vocational college it is a part of.
Clarissa reminded me that all of the students practice on themselves first, then after gathering the basic fundamentals that is extended to other students. “Because you are not a natural born female, does not exclude you from this, you can expect to be in curlers, nail polish and makeup the majority of your time here. Is that clear?” I nodded my assent then got up to leave.
She told me she would see me Monday, and then handed me a box with my new uniforms in it. A brief peek in the box confirmed that I will be wearing skirts to attend beauty school. It was a surreal experience in a way, I never have, and I repeat never done well at anything I have attempted. It seems like my life has been an accident waiting to happen, and a lot of times the worst happened. Here I managed to do something right, and it was fun, and I have this inner glow because of it.
With the forms filled out, it is time to go, and surprisingly most of the other students gave me hugs as we left. That made it worse, always a loner, and now I seem to be included in something nice. This is definitely uncharted territory for me. We got to the car, and Sis asked if I am alright. I just sat there staring out the window, not believing what had happened. I stammered an okay, then asked if being a cosmetologist is what she had chosen for me.
Sis had felt that I was more of a female particularly in my mind than I ever let on. My male attitude kept everything remotely feminine locked away and inaccessible in the back of my mind. When she found out about my attempts at dressing, she suspected that if my barriers could be broken down, a happier and carefree adult of the female gender would emerge.
The beauty school is a definite possibility for me, my skills shown today that I am a natural at it. The end decision is yours; she would point me in the right direction, but I have to make the effort and do the work. She told me Clarissa thought that I am exceptionally gifted in this regard and would make a fortune with my skills once I obtained my cosmetologist license.
I nodded my head, and we made our way to find some food. My mind still working on the fact that this is something that I am good at, a first for me. At some point in the trip, I looked down at my nails and realized that I now sported the most gorgeous feminine nails in a bright red polish. The length is scary but made my hands and arms look so petite and female. The car stopped, and Sis suggested that I grab my purse so we could get something to eat. “I can’t go into the restaurant like this.” Sis giggled at my sudden bashfulness but told me that she is not going to wait.
I swallowed several times and hustled to catch up with her, as she entered the restaurant. The hostess seated us, asking what the two beautiful ladies wanted to drink. I giggled looking over at Sis but did manage to stumble out the words iced tea. The next thing I did was focus my attention on my new nails, the length and the shine captivating me totally. Sis wanted to know what I wanted to eat, but I was busy checking out my nails. Her only comment is you are definitely a typical young female.
I eventually got around to ordering as I began to lose my fear of being out with such beautiful nails adorning my hands. Nobody paid any attention, other than to compliment me on their appearance. After our orders had been taken, Sis asked if the career she had picked for me is satisfactory. I almost told her, no, but Denise is getting a firmer grip on things and responded. “It seemed interesting and for once I didn’t screw things up.” I think she is happy with that answer, since the smile that spread across her face is so awesome.
“You are indeed a student there, but the Turnabout Gurl Salons, a chain of beauty salons has paid your tuition and for whom you will be working once you received your license. The uniform will be a little different, more what the stylists wear at the salon. As fast as you learn the material, the quicker you will graduate. Both Clarissa and Francine, the owner of Turnabout Gurl Salons, thought that you would and could graduate early if you applied yourself.
“Do beauticians made any kind of money?” That question suddenly erupting from my mouth. Sis assured me that I could make more money doing this than any other job I had considered. Francine started out as a cosmetologist and in ten short years, heads up a chain of two hundred and twenty salons catering to the male that wants to be a female either in their life, or just to enjoy themselves. The weird part is now that the female customer sees what her cosmetologists can do they have even more business as she wants the same services for herself.
Dinner is excellent as usual, but I am warned that my habit of eating large meals in the evening is over. “You now have to think of your figure, keeping it trim and curvy. After the first week you have an appointment at the closest Turnabout Gurl Salon in Tucson, so that your sex can be made to match your new personality.” I wondered about that statement, but I am told that the surprise had to wait until I got to the salon.
We were successful in picking out the little amount of furniture we needed for the house earlier that afternoon, so another night in the motel would wrap up our tasks, except for picking up groceries in the morning.
If I cooperate with her for the first three months of beauty school, she will consider alternatives if this is something that I don’t want to pursue. However, to abandon this, you will have to have something else in mind, with research and facts to back you up. Shirley hoped that I learned something in the last few weeks and that I will apply myself to my studies to finally make something of myself.
Since Shirley didn’t want to do fast food, we found a buffet place to handle dinner. The food is great, but I remembered my figure and took smaller portions and passed on foods that would expand my soon to be feminine features.
No one looked at me strangely, even a group of teenage girls passed judgment on me as being female. Back at the motel, we settled in and got dressed for bed. It is decided that I would attend my first day of beauty school while Shirley saw to the moving van being unpacked and things put in the right rooms. I had hung my uniform in the closet at the motel, so I removed it from its hanger and glanced at the feminine item.
The panties did have layer after layer of ruffles, causing the skirt to poof out some. It would also be on display if I leaned over or picked up something from the floor. The neckline dipped lower than I had first thought and I realized that my lack of cleavage would be on display for all to see. I wasn’t sure what I thought about that, being a male that should have not been a consideration, but somehow I secretly wished for something to fill the cups of my bra. Even the words my bra, had a new and different meaning.
We slept together again, cuddled in each other’s arms till the early morning light peeked through the window of the motel. I quickly showered and put on my uniform. It looked a little strange on me, nothing to fill it out properly, but it did add to the image of a young female getting ready for her first day of classes.
Shirley drove me to the school, made sure I had my purse, and then with a hug and kiss wished me luck. I walked through the doors still a little wary about all of this, but when several of the students rushed to greet me I relaxed. For the first time I seem to have some friends, somebody to share my tribulations with, and somebody my age that I could confide in, at least that is what I hoped.
The lessons started immediately, today we were working on setting styles for different hairstyles. We each had a Styrofoam head with a wig attached. We were given a hairstyle, then a setting pattern for it and we had to duplicate it on our wig. Then when it dried we had to brush it out and style it to finish the style. Then wash the wig, dry it, and then do the same thing, but this time using a curling iron to make the curls. I accomplished the styles with time to spare, so after the first project was completed, while I am waiting on the rest of the students, I washed the wig, dried it and experimented with the curling iron seeing what style I could come up with.
Clarissa noticed and complimented me on my skill. The projects went on throughout the day, we ended up learning about twenty different designs and their requirements. The school’s students were divided into several groups. The more experienced were put in one group, then another where the intermediate students were placed and then the beginner’s group.
At the end of the day Clarissa pulled me aside telling me that she would move me up to the next group after a few days. “To do so on the first day would make some of the students that didn’t have as much skill as I feel bad, once they see that you are capable of more and better things, they will understand the promotion.”
I liked Clarissa, she was considerate of all, while spending the needed time to help when you reached an impasse. She quite often complimented my work, but always asked if I thought of doing this way instead. I was hungry for her approval, something I have never experienced as a male. So I am always trying to do a little extra to get her acknowledgment and approval.
Believe it or not we had homework, we were given each a bag of curlers a bottle of setting gel and our book on hair styles. We had to find a style that would flatter our face, set the style and sleep in the curlers. Tomorrow after showing up at school in curlers we had to brush out the style, finish it off, then we would receive a grade for our work. I am looking forward to the exercise, but according to Shirley, sleeping in curlers is not enjoyable.
We were settling into the house day by day. Sis still getting things set-up, me busy with my lessons. She hauled me to school each day, then picked me up around six PM. If she had things to do in town she stayed the day, but otherwise she went back home. She said we would change things once we saw how school and I were getting along. I am out of bed before her every day, dressed and downstairs waiting for her, a fact that she has mentioned often.
Setting my hair is fun, I tried several different setting patterns before I ended up with one that I thought would look good on me. I pulled the hairnet over the curlers and then joined sis in the living room. She is watching TV, some inane reality show. I am reading one of my new magazines, seeing what some of the upcoming styles are predicated to be. During the commercials, I tried to talk to her, thanking her for forcing all of this on me. I loved what I am doing, planning a career as a cosmetologist, now in my thoughts every day.
“In case you haven’t been keeping tract, we have had not one single fight or disagreement since you started at the school.” I leaned over and laid my head on her shoulder, so happy to be doing this now instead of what I had done earlier in my life as a male. She smiled and looked down at me. “Do you want to practice your skills on my hair tonight?” I was off the sofa, and to my bedroom before she could do anything else. I rounded up my supplies and came running back to the living room, all the time she is outright laughing.
“I have never seen you this enthused about anything in your life.”
“It is fun, and I think I am good at it, so until someone forces me to stop I am going to enjoy it while I can.” Shirley told me that no one is going to stop you, everyone that has seen you do your thing thinks you will be an unqualified success in this career.
I removed the scrunchie from her hair, then brushed it out a little then moistened her hair so I could set it. She asked what style I had chosen, but I told her she would have to wait until tomorrow morning and the brush out to see what I had chosen for her.
“You mean I have to sleep in curlers tonight, what kind of a beauty salon are you running here?”
I replied “a cheap one, we have no dryer, and besides what is good enough for me is good enough for you.” Then promptly stuck out my tongue. We collapsed in laughter, and then hugged each other. I offered to do her nails for her, to make up for the lack of a dryer for her hair. She accepted and soon I had her fingernails reflecting back a rose pink polish. As her nails are drying I again leaned on her shoulder, I felt so close to her, an occurrence that had never happened in the past.
As we were getting ready for bed, Shirley suggested we look around for some beauty equipment, maybe setting up a mini beauty salon in one of the unused bedrooms, where I could do some of my homework and give her some free beauty treatments from time to time. That last said with a large smile on her face. “I would love it, maybe one of the other girls could spend a night on the weekend and we could do each other’s hair.” I looked at my sister, wondering if that remark would get by, she smiled “As long as I have met them beforehand it would be alright.” I launched myself at Sis, thanking her and smothering her in kisses and hugs.
After completing my first week at the school, it was time for my gender change. I was a little apprehensive about going further towards being a female, but let’s face it so far my embracing that gender has been wonderful. On the drive to Tucson, she explained that it would be necessary to make my appearance as a female more realistic so that I can blend in at the beauty school. With the fact that you have no male clothes to wear even if you wanted to revert back, a feminine figure is probably for the best. All of the things scheduled for today are reversible at some time in the future, but keep in mind that this is most likely your future, so don’t make the same mistakes that you have made in the past.
The Turnabout Gurl Salon is an example of opulent taste and feminine delicacies. From the exterior, the salon is fashionable, with pink awnings over the windows. The sign across the front façade of the building is done in script in bright pink letters lined in burgundy borders. The windows were fitted with sheer curtains pulled to the side with large bows of pink and burgundy ribbon. The inside of the shop is well lit with framed pictures of gorgeous females lining the walls. Each picture had its own light, accenting the images in the pictures.
As I entered the salon, I am greeted by the receptionist and asked my name. I told her that I am Denise and had a nine-thirty appointment. She picked up the phone and told a stylist that her appointment is here. A taller female in a fabulous short uniform approached me introducing herself and leading me to one of the private treatment rooms. Annabelle was in her early twenties, five foot eight inches tall, and looked to be about 130 lbs. Her hair and makeup were immaculate, nothing out of place, but easily suitable for a night out.
Shirley had entered the salon with me but insisted that I take it from there. As I am being led off, she told me that she would be back to pick me up at four this afternoon. That surprised me since I didn’t think that there was much to be done to me. Annabelle asked me to disrobe and place myself on the table. She busied herself getting things ready while I removed my clothes. I left on my panties since I was not sure if she is aware that I am a male.
As I made my way to the table, she turned around, noticed my panties and stopped me. She grabbed a hold of the waistband and pulled them down, just like that they were around my ankles. She informed me that ninety percent of their customers were male and that I didn’t have anything that she had not seen before. She eased me back on the table until I am lying flat, then checked my body for hair. I had been keeping it shaved clean for several years now, but recently due to the move and my attempts to find a career, I had missed doing it, and I now had a short fuzz on my body.
She gathered an applicator and started spreading the hot wax on my legs. Then a cloth strip is placed in the hot wax on my body and then ripped off. I took in a deep breath but managed to keep my protestations none vocal. An hour later I lacked any follicular growth except for the top of my head. After she had completed the body, she moved up to my face and made quick work of my eyebrows. After they had been removed, she told me that since I was going to be in beauty school. It is easier just to do away with them and pencil in a substitute until I decide whether I want to be pencil thin or more like Brooke Shields.
After the hair had been removed the next thing is my sex change, literally a box with my new breasts is brought in and another containing my new female sex. My legs were spread and placed in stirrups, and then the cache sex is positioned over my genitals. She made a few marks then pushed my testicles up into my body. It was a startling sensation, as they popped into their original homes. The only remaining piece of my male anatomy is slipped into a narrow sheath; then the glue added to the tip to secure it in place.
She waited a minute or two then glued the cache sex to my body. There was a mirror at the end of the table, allowing me to watch what she is doing. After she had it glued into place, she moved to the side to allow me an unobstructed view of my new female orifice. A narrow slit, with a short curly landing strip above, greeted my eyes. The real surprise came when she inserted her finger into the new opening, and I felt it. I took in a deep breath, the sensation causing a distinct new feeling that shook my mental faculties.
She smiled, then asked if I am pleased with the feeling coming from the new sex. Since I am still speechless, she presumed that I am happy with the results. She warned that most males could be handled with the new sex, but the biggest ones might be uncomfortable since the appliance did have its limitations. I swallowed hard at what that implied. I made up my mind that I would not test to see if what she said was true.
Then she moved her attention to my chest, laying the breast forms on my chest and making the appropriate notations as to the proper positioning of them. As she is handling them, I noticed there is a wire and miniature clamp hanging from the back of the form. Before I could ask her what the purpose of the wire is, she explained that any sensation to the forms nipple would be passed to my own nipple underneath. My mouth open again, as I tried to make sense of all of this.
Not only will I be dressing as a female for the next few months, but I can have sex as a female including breast play. A smile briefly crossed my face, until my mind relayed the info that I am going to be the receiver in this new arrangement. Not the male making love to his girlfriend, but the female being made love to and fondled is now in my destiny. The loss of the ability to masturbate is also noted, at least, the way a male normally does was to be denied with the cache sex glued firmly in place.
As all of this is happening, I began to see that this is a way to reverse the predicament that I found myself in. A new start, in something that I have never had any interest in. The brief exposure at the beauty school was fun, and the other students were friendly, maybe I could turn things around. Besides, after three months sis did say that I could change if I came up with something else.
Annabelle moved me to a regular salon chair in front of mirrors and started working on my hair. I wondered what she is going to do since my hair was already to my shoulder; surely I didn’t need it any longer. She tilted the chair back and thoroughly shampooed and conditioned it, and then towel dried it. She had a bundle of hair that matched my own color and started gluing them into my hair. Two or three strands in each location were added bringing the new length of my hair to my shoulder blades. Annabelle told me that I would have to learn to handle the longer hair since at this length it can be quite a problem. Every young woman should have hair this long at least once in their life, the extreme femininity of it making a female feel beautiful and pretty.
It took her over three hours to add all the strands in the bundle, but my face looked different with the longer hair framing it. It took her another half hour to cut it, blending the two different lengths into a feminine hairstyle. I was given a cape to wear, after my sex change and took advantage of being clothed some to use the bathroom. There I received another new experience, using the toilet without the usual method is unnerving. It took me a while to relax, but eventually I was able to accomplish the task. I will say it is messy this way, and I don’t know if I will ever get used to wiping my new slit.
It’s like something should be there, but it is missing in action, and then if I wipe too hard or push too hard, I get another sensation that shouldn’t be coming from a male’s groin. But I guess I am not a male anymore since boobs and a vagina are standard equipment on the female model.
Annabelle moved me to another room, with a vanity in front of a large lighted mirror. I am seated directly in front of the mirror. She would do one side of my face while I am expected to do the other. I had to clean off my mistakes more than once, in fact, I repeated the different cosmetics several times. When she was confident that I had some understanding of the basics of makeup, she had me cleanse off my face and apply the makeup to my whole face. I am extremely nervous, had to redo a couple of things but after forty minutes a cute girl is the image I saw in the mirror.
With the makeup under control, earrings were the next subject to be pondered. Annabelle wanted to pierce my ears three times, but I only wanted them done once. She called over another stylist, to get an impartial opinion, but after discussion, it was decided that three piercings would be best.
I received a set of hoops and two studs in each ear. I should have seen through the deception at first, but it sometimes takes me a while to reach minimal mind operating speed. The earrings did look nice, so now with three earrings in each ear, I am ready to be a beauty school student.
During all of this, I remembered Shirley telling me that I would be wearing a uniform at beauty school similar to what the stylists wore at the Turnabout Gurl Salon. I looked around at the stylists here and realized that I would soon be sporting the same dress. It was short, barely covering the upper thighs, with lots of ruffles on the rear of the panties worn underneath.
Normally they could not be seen, but when the stylist bent over the ruffles became quite obvious. The uniform fit very snugly in the upper torso, with a scoop neckline that flaunted the bosom of the person wearing it. The lacy cap sleeves were pure fluff, dancing around with every little movement. I blushed at that thought; I would be wearing the same uniform in beauty school until I managed to graduate and receive my license. Then I realized that I would be wearing it when I came to work here, so my future attire is guaranteed. I know that the blush that I had just experienced would not be my last.
Since Grace had done my nails at the school, all Annabelle had to do was paint my toenails the same color. I looked at myself in the mirror, not seeing any of the former Dennis that at one time inhabited that body. I caught myself twisting to and fro to get a better look at myself. Shirley appeared in the image that I was looking at, assuring me that I was quite beautiful. Another blush, but I did agree with her, I am pretty. I have come a long way from a going nowhere young male to an attractive young female with lots of possibilities in life.
Since I am now a young woman, at least in looks, they were finished with me. I was given lots of hugs, and told that they couldn’t wait until I returned to work in the salon. They all knew my situation, wished me luck and Shirley and I departed. I had the visor mirror down almost immediately, wanting to look at my new image. Shirley was giggling a little, my behavior now matching that of a young teenager, a female teenager.
The next day I did reappear at the beauty school, all of my fellow students spending quite a bit of time appraising my new look. Once the initial evaluation was over everything returned to normal. I was moved up to the advanced group a few days later, then after several months separated out by myself. I spent all my time studying, determined to do well at this career. I spent the weekends in our own beauty salon at home, every moment Shirley was at home I had her in curlers or doing her makeup or both. She never complained, while I was constantly making her over she spent her time studying.
It was early September, a little over a year from when we arrived when I was called into Clarissa’s office. Shown to a desk in the corner and given a test. It was the state Cosmetology exam. I instantly got nervous, not sure if I am ready to take the exam. I started reading the questions, they seemed easier than I first thought and two and a half hours later I was finished. Another lady that had been walking around the salon graded the exam, then handed me a list of services that I need to perform to show my comprehension of the material. She smiled and told me I needed to perform the services on myself.
From what some of the other students had told me that is not how they usually do things. I looked at the list, then went to round up the supplies that I needed. Clarissa has a work station in the corner of her office, so that is where I set up. I am not sure why I have been singled out to do these services on myself, but I wanted the license real bad, so grin and bear it.
Washing and conditioning my hair was first, I knew this was to see if I followed proper procedures. I set my hair in curlers, a curly bob is what I am striving for. Then I needed to add an additional piercing in my ear, again I am sure to see if I follow proper sterilizing procedures before I actually do the piercing. Next on the list is to remove my eyebrows, then pencil in a high arch. I am sure this is to see if I can do hair removal according to the state codes.
Since during classes most of my eyebrows had been removed already it was an easily accomplished feat. Then a facial and full makeup, an evening look is what she wanted. I am not sure what she was looking for here, I don’t remember any specific rules involving makeup other than not using brushes or makeup out of the same container without cleaning the applicator. After I completed the list I was looked over closely, then she went to Clarissa’s office to fill out some forms. She didn’t say I passed, but also didn’t say I flunked the test. I was talking with a few of the other students when she returned and handed me a piece of paper. It was my cosmetology license, I squealed in delight, then hugged the lady. I don’t think she was used to that type of response from students she was testing out. She congratulated me and then left.
All of the other students flocked around me wanting to know what was on the test and if I was nervous doing the tasks on the list. I mentioned a few questions, but Clarissa told the rest that each test is individualized for each student, no two tests the same. It wasn’t too much later when Shirley entered the school to pick me up. I ran to her squealing in delight waving my license at her and almost knocked her down. She caught a hold of my hand holding the license so she could see what I was excited about. I was making a lot of noise but not telling anybody what I had done.
Clarissa handed me a letter of reference to give to the salon where I would be working as we said our goodbyes. I told her I would be back to visit, she might have been my teacher but she meant a whole lot more to me than that. By the time I got to Shirley’s car I was bawling, I would miss everybody, during my life my first true friends. I got treated to a nice dinner in celebration then Shirley drove me to the salon I would be working at.
I was introduced to everybody, given my own work station and got set up for tomorrow’s business. I had to pinch myself several times, I had actually done something to completion, and had excelled in it. To think a year ago I was fighting with my sister about everything, my life going nowhere fast. Now I am a cosmetologist for one of the biggest salon chains in the country doing what I love to do. Yes, hair and makeup forever Denise, life can’t get much better than this.
© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca