Christopher To Christina: An Answered Prayer

5. The First Morning

On my first full day as a girl, I woke up early, about six AM, and remembering what I was to do that day, I was too excited to go back to sleep again.

I hadn't felt anything like this since the times Sally put me in a dress when we played together. This felt more exciting than that because it was different. This wasn't going to be just playing, pretending to be a girl. This was real and I couldn't wait to get started.

I kept watching the clock as it inched toward seven, the usual time mom would come in and get me up.

I tried to wait for Mom, I really did, but by six thirty I was too excited and just couldn't wait any longer. I got up, took off my pajamas, and then began to look over the modest assortment of things Mom had bought me.

I had decisions to make.

Should I choose the pink panties, or the white ones? I labored over the decision, wanting my first day to be perfect.

What a luxury, what a delight to have the choice, actually to be allowed, and in fact expected, to put on panties.

After a bit of debate, I settled on a pink pair.

Today, as mom had explained, was to start a one month trial, to see how I liked living as a girl. But, as I put on the panties, I was pretty sure, I already knew what I wanted.

Over the pink panties, I put on a light blue t-shirt and a short flared denim skirt I had picked out the night before. 

I put on a pair of ankle socks Mom had told me would go with the outfit and the white canvas shoes.  Then I climbed on the bed and looked at myself in the mirror.

It seemed to me that I looked a little less convincing than I had the night before, which was a letdown, however, it was just then I realized this was the moment I had prayed for, and on a sudden impulse I hopped off the bed and dropped to my knees, and folded my hands.

"Thank you, God," I said. "Thank you, thank you, thank you for answering my prayer."

Years later, a wonderful Jewish girl, who was my dearest friend at the time, would tell me that every orthodox Jewish man thanked God every day for having been born a man instead of a woman.

Now, that something you'd never, ever catch me saying, but as an adult now, I am just as grateful for the opposite, not having to awaken every morning to find I am still a guy and discover that every day since this first day was only a dream.

It's not a dream, it's real and I thank God every day.