That would almost seem like a reverse of a change now the way I felt. Boy to girl, being a girl and then being forced as a girl to go back and live life as a boy, probably forever.
So much depended upon this moment.
Everything I did upstairs was meticulous, every brush stroke with mascara so careful, every touch of lipstick put on with a steady hand. I brushed and brushed my hair, through and through. I chose a bra that showed off my now burgeoning breasts, my nicest skirt and a low slung top, as feminine as possible, without going over the top. I popped on a pair of three inch heels.
I looked in the mirror and flounced my hair. I was ready for my dad…

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