Christopher To Christina: An Answered Prayer

2. Convincing

It took me no time at all to make up my mind; I had made it up while she was still talking to me about the possibility. 

I quickly replied with, "Yes. Yes, momma I wanna do it." I think she saw the light in my eyes when I did so, but she was cautious. 

"I think you should try for a couple of weeks, or maybe a month, starting now, before we go," she said, "so you can see what it's like.  I wouldn't want you to do this if it's not what you really want and your not doing it of your own God-given free will. I also wouldn't want you to wait until you get there and after everyone meets you as a girl, you discover you hate it and then either have to suffer through being forced to live as a girl or have to explain to everyone why you suddenly went from a girl to a boy.

"I can get you a dress to try wearing, something age appropriate that will really fit you.  It's summer, so you don't have to go to school, and you hardly ever go outside anyway.  I'm thinking maybe you could just try dressing as a girl around the house until we move.  At that point, you'll have an opportunity to change your mind, if you decide you don't want to continue once we move.  If you think you like it, then we can look at what to do next. If you decide you don't like it...well, we'll hope you find nicer boys in our new place."

The idea had caught on in my mind.  I was half listening to her and half contemplating the new possibilities her proposal had opened up.

The more I thought about it, the better I liked it.  In fact, I was surprised to realize how much it did appealed to me. 

Mom was being so careful not to pressure me and trying not to influence my decision, but I was sure I would like it, and my only regret was that I wouldn't be able to dress up as a girl right away, right that evening, but instead, would have to wait until tomorrow for Mom to get something for me to wear.

I thought about this more when I went to bed.  This was going to be a genuine adventure, I realized.  This wasn't just *playing* at being a girl, the way I might play at being a policeman or a pirate or an airplane pilot or the way I used to pretend to be a girl when playing with Sally. 

This was going to be real, experimenting with my possible future. 

It wasn't just something in my own mind either; dresses and panties were things that had an objective, a material existence. They weren't costumes either.  They were real clothes, and I
was going to get to wear them.

What would I call myself? I wondered.   As a girl I'd have to be something other than Christopher. I lay in bed, considering the possibilities.  I wanted
something that sounded frilly and feminine.  Not just plain Mary or
Christy.  Maybe Lydia? Addison? Cheryl? Madeline? Piper? Or Stacey? 

I pondered each of these names, one by one dismissing each of them, before coming up with another. Mika? Misha? Charly? Rebecca? Katie? Brytnee?

The girl at my school who always wore the prettiest dresses was named Lorelei.  H'mm, how about Lorelei, in honor of the pretty dresses I was going to wear?  Nope. Too risky. Suppose we bumped into each other some time...I could just hear Mom saying, "Lorelei, this is Lorelei. Nah, too silly," I thought. 

Finally I had it:  Somebody (was it our teacher in school?) had told a story about a sad ballerina named Giselle.

I began to picture myself in tights and a tutu with the exotic, super-feminine name Giselle.  That was it.  I would be Giselle.

So that's how it started.  I think back now and bless the memory of those bully boys who, unknowingly, pushed me into being a girl.