Chapter 11: Chapter 11: All Eyes on the New Girl

Chapter 11: All Eyes on the New Girl

 

After she came out to her roommates, she told her work by discretely secretly privately telling the managers that she'd be going under a new name and pronouns (Sophia audibly cringed when requesting this to her superiors). Since she only had a few coworkers, she was able to make the switch fairly seamlessly, despite her anxieties. She didn't want no trouble with nobody. She didn't want no attention. She didn't want any kind of spotlight put on her, any kind of "LGBT Coming Out Party" for her in the break room. It would be unceremonious, quiet, as if nothing even changed at all. That was the Boymoder way of life. Even as a Girlmoder, she was still living by the Boymoder Code - to live life so lightly so as to never inconvenience a single living or dead soul, whether coworker or ancestor. To transition so seamlessly, you don't even notice the editing splice. Like those "single take" movie scenes that aren't single takes at all, but look that way to the naked eye. 

If being a Boymoder is to be invisible, to be a Girlmoder is to not exist at all. You were never trans. You were never a boy. You weren't ever even a child. You didn't have a life before you hit adulthood. You spawned like you are, a fully formed adult, with no childhood trauma to speak of, or any life issues at all. Zero complications for anyone around you, for anyone in society, making it easier to be accepted by them. The less problems you cause others, the easier life becomes. How could anyone dare attack someone who's trying their very best to not bother anybody else? That's surely not how society works. 

This should be a piece of cake!

She was still just wearing skinny jeans and flannel, but they were women's flannel now. She was still wearing skinny jeans, but they were women's skinny jeans. She was still wearing a t-shirt, but a women's black t-shirt. Truly, a breathtaking transformation - she'd finally become the butch lesbian of her dreams. 

"Excuse me! Ma'am! Where's the razors? I can't find the razors!"

Ma'am. Hehehe.

"Aisle 13 miss, right down that way."

"Oh, thank you, dear."

It was funny just how some sweet words can affect her mood so much. She didn't care about pronouns...but it still made her feel nice. They didn't matter though. But they were nice. Somehow.

"MOMMY, IS THAT A BOY OR A GIRL?"

"Sweetie! That's obviously a girl. Don't ask such rude questions! I'm so sorry!"

"It's totally fine, thank you," Sophia said, trying not to show how happy she was. A real girl wouldn't be happy about simply being called a girl, so she shouldn't show her smile either.

She hadn't changed that much, but in a way, she's changed a lot. What tipped people off? The slightly fuller baby fat resting on her cheeks? Her more treated hair? The slight amount of naked foundation she used dabbed on her face? Her... her breasts?

Yeah. Yeah, it was probably those.

Sophia was very proud of her breasts. They’ve grown so much in the last year - they actually were visible with a shirt now. It signaled she was a woman beyond any doubt to any stray onlooker. But she was terrified by her breasts, too - how did her female coworkers just go about their day, showing them off like they did? The contours, even...the cleavage? It made her feel so exposed, so vulnerable, even as the mounds just barely peeked through the opening window of her un-buttoned-up flannel. But she wanted to move past that fear. To become like a normal woman, like Brooke, who she'd seen wearing a fucking crop-top just the other day. Normal women are never self-conscious of their breasts or showing skin or revealing themselves - that's truly how you can tell a trans woman and a cis woman apart in the wild.

Sophia: i got ma'amed again at work today ^_^

Ramona: of course u did sweetie. just like ysterday. and the day before...
        just like I said would happen. lol

Sophia: I KNOW it just still makes me happy lol...........lol. lol!

Ramona: just wait till a guy hits on u. he'll gobble you right up

Sophia: LOL SHUT UP lol impossible sorry not happening AHA

...What does she actually want guys to do to her? Does she honestly think anyone would "hit on" this creature? 

She still hadn't told Mark or John about her sexual orientation. It would just complicate matters, with them all living together. It would just be embarrassing. It would just be humiliating. It would just be kind of a joke. Transitioning is one thing, but saying you...like guys? Saying you want a boyfriend? No way. No way. She could hear them laughing at her behind her eyes already. The thought of a tranny like her actually seriously thinking any guy would be interested in her, it was a joke. 

Mark seems interested in her breasts at least...Maybe... No, no way, absolutely not.

What even was her sexual orientation? Was anything she felt with Chad even real? They still texted each other, but he felt so distant, more like friends than anything real. Was she just fooling herself? Was the pervert part of her brain tricking her body to react like that when seeing how handsome he was? Or thinking about sex with him? It must be a trick. Maybe "coming out" and girlmoding can help push those thoughts out again - relieving some pressure valves, clearing her head out. She has too much to focus on right now. Work. Transition. Work. Transition. There's simply no time for "relationships" with such a maddening schedule! How do other trans people fuck like 30 fucking people at the same time when she can't even hold hands with a guy!? 

God, I hope people don't think I'm actually a fucking lesbian with this fucking outfit, though. I want guys to...

"You know, I think it's really brave what you're doing."

Sophia looked up from her phone at the break room. It was Brooke. Dressed so fashionably yet again, holding her phone with her french-tipped nails, and her brown roots coming in more clearly through her blonde dyed hair, flowing down to the breakroom table. She gave her hair a little flip through her fingers after speaking, as if to accentuate her words.  

Kill me.

"Ah, ha... hm?" Sophia said out loud, trying to feign obliviousness to her cliché 'ally' comment about bravery.

"Just you know, like, all this," she said, waving her little hand around as if circling Sophia with an invisible Photoshop lasso tool. "I have some experience in it. We can chat sometime if you want."

Experience, huh? Probably some friend who changed pronouns on her twitter bio to 'They/Them' for a week after getting a fucking haircut.

"Um, sorry. No thanks, it's uh, it's a bit uncomfortable, for me, I kind of just. wanted to...go under the radar, and..."

And not make a sceeeeeeeeene.

Sophia couldn't get her thoughts out, but the squeaky mutters were still her honest thoughts on the matter. She had hoped, eventually, everyone at work would somehow forget she was ever a boy. Or they'd cycle out of work, with the new coworkers joining in being oblivious to her past, and just always seeing her as a girl from the start. A fresh start, without having to do anything too difficult or strenuous, like finding a new job without changed legal documentation (terrifying). She was comfortable here, and comfort is the most valuable resource of all. If she wasn't bothering anyone else, then there's an unwritten social obligation that others have to leave her alone, too. Right?

"Listen, just...here's my number, okay?" Brooke said

Her number. Of course. Sophia was so fucking stupid.

This is it. This is her chance! Her chance to be a real normie! And it all starts, with her first real woman friend! Ramona didn't really count, obviously, with...how she was. Jennifer wasn't really a friend either - she spent most of her time with John outside of the apartment, who she'd barely seen lately either. Brooke was...Brooke? Sophia realized she didn't really know that much about Brooke at all, despite working together for almost a year. But the fact that someone, anyone, actually wanted to talk with her, out of their own free will and volition, was extremely rare. Maybe girlmoding will open up the rest of the world for her - social events, friendships, experiences, maybe even...parties? She'd finally be able to become a normal person, and Brooke was the key. 

She only had to...talk about...Trans Stuff...with her...

"I'd, uh, lo-", she stopped herself before finishing her words.

Love to...? No that's too strong!

"Thanks! Thanks thanks!", Sophia finally sputtered out.

Why are you doubling your words you fucking simpering loser? 

"Mmh, no prob," Brooke said, giving a little smile. Was it a knowing smile? An understanding one? Pitiful? All three at once?

"I wasn't really surprised, you know. So congratulations."

"Um, thank you, thank you..." Sophia said, her cheeks betraying her futile stoic mask by tinting with blush.

Despite all her skepticism, it felt so much nicer hearing that sentiment from Brooke than from Mark and John - or even Ramona. Brooke was a real girl, after all. Real women can sense genuine femininity. She wanted to blurt out and scream "HOW!? HOW DID YOU KNOW!? DID I GIVE OFF SIGNS!? WAS IT OBVIOUS!? WHAT DID I FUCKING DO!? DO YOU THINK I'M ACTUALLY, LIKE, FEMININE, FOR REAL!? NATURALLY FEMININE!?", but she didn't want to come off as too desperate. If she did, maybe Brooke will figure out that nobody's really said that to her before, nobody's really sensed any femininity in Sophia growing up, that she was a fake, a fraud, a phony, a masculine loser boy doing this as a lark. 

As Sophia always said to herself, it's better to stay silent than to open your mouth and ruin other's good impressions of you. If you act too surprised and pleased at a compliment, they'll be able to peer into your soul spilling out from the crack in the vase. To live lightly is to survive safely.

Sophia had levelled up in a major way - she'd finally (potentially) made a cis girl friend, which gives her (potentially) added security and defense against life's worst attacks. If she can collect enough normal friends, maybe she'll never have to be afraid of living again. Just as long as she can make 100% sure these "friends" never get close enough to hurt her herself. Simple. 

Finishing work had her instantly remember and wonder how XXXXX had been doing lately, her online friend who'd routinely ask her about trans stuff. She knew she couldn't poke and prod herself, or else it'd look like she was pressuring them to transition. Some kind of sick perverted groomer, trying to spread her transsexuality to unwitting innocent bystanders. But she was worried. Her heart ached. They were just like her a few years ago... How could she just ignore her pleas? Just let her suffer? Wouldn't she thereby be failing her own former self? She wished there was someone to help her in the same way she was helping others.

Ring ring ring.

"Hey hey! How have ya been lately?"

"Oh, it's been okay. Work's been work. Been eating better lately. Keeping fit!"

"Oh good!" - how avoidant. "Um, well like, have you done anything about, you know, the thing? The gender stuff?"

"Ohhh. No. No, not yet. Ahaha. Maybe sometime soon. Just living my best life right now, you know? Can't use any distractions like that."

Huh? Really? 

"Oh okay. You just sounded really, like, desperate last time, like you were running out of time. Are you a little more calm now?"

"Oh yeah. I mean I was overreacting. It's all good."

"Hm. Okay okay. Just call me whenever you feel stressed out again, okay? I mean, I started girlmoding lately, I don't know if you've heard..."

"Oh. Huh. That's pretty crazy. Okay. I mean, good luck with that. That's impossible for someone like me. You're so lucky."

No progress yet again. No self-reflection. Just two steps back, like always. Nothing was more frustrating than dealing with someone so addicted to never take advice, to never take opportunities, to never change their lives for the better. To constantly be trapped in their own excuses. Worthless irritating self-sabotaging fucks. 

"It's not...it's not just luck, you know...I've been working pretty hard myself..."

At least she was taking some steps forward in her life. She was working towards something, a real goal. She knew she would never falter, never give up, not at this rate. Nothing could get her down. 

"Yeah, but you started from such a better position. Do you really have any place to talk like that to me? You've seen my body. You've seen my ribcage. You've seen my skull size. It's fucking over."

Sophia has seen them, many many times. With rulers or other objects next to them to scale them properly for anyone viewing such photos, of course. They were painful to look at, for several reasons. 

"You're right. I'm sorry."

"Well again, I don't care about that anymore. I'm not trans anymore. It's just a distraction. Life is best lived without distractions. You just have to deal the cards you're given, and I was given a good male body, so I'm going to use it. Anyways, I'll talk to you later!"

Good talk. They'll probably call again in a month and say they want to order HRT again.

You are reading story The Boymoder Diaries at novel35.com

Oh well. I've done my good deed for the day. 

She just had one thing left to do. She needed to walk home. 

And...Oh.

Oh god. 

Someone was in front of her.

At least half a block away, but it was inevitable that they would eventually clash, collide. They would see her. They would see her face. They would see her clothes. The walk to work at least had emptier sidewalks...but she couldn't do with this. God, she wished she still had her car.

I'm a fucking tranny. I'm a fucking tranny. I'm a fucking tranny. I'm a fucking freak. They all see a fucking freak. 

Thankfully, she'd survived the encounter by temporarily deferring the sidewalk to them, and willfully choosing to walk on the grass. The panic was over - she didn't have to keep track of what their eyes were looking at in her peripheral vision anymore. There were just 7 more obstacles ahead of her to repeat this process before the end of the block. Like a videogame, she just had to get through it.

Why did she feel someone was going to punish her for this? She had made so much progress but the smallest of things could still throw her right back. Some part of her body had been conditioned for years to elevate into a full panic flight reaction if she does or think or feels anything 'wrong' at all. She knows she enjoys being feminine. She knows she likes it. She knows it feels so much better for her than any other 'mode' of living ever has. But sometimes, the anxiety would overwhelm her, her heart screaming to jet out of her chest. What made her this way? Was it Nature righteously decreeing that a Man like her shouldn’t dare to be feminine? Was it some vague bullshit from her childhood that she couldn’t possibly even remember? Was she just a brain-broken freak? Was it a subconscious sexual exhibitionism response? Who was watching her? Who was judging her? Was she her own voyeur? It was enough to turn her brain inside out. No friend or therapist could ever unravel these knots for her. 

A fucking pervert walking near their kids and carriages. In their neighborhood. I don't belong here. I don't belong here. 

She looked around for more signs of Danger Danger Danger. Women wearing leggings - something she could never wear without showing her fucking bulge. Women pushing their babies around in strollers - something she would never have of her own. Women walking with their boyfriends and husbands, hand in hand - something she would never be able to secure. Women playing with their children in the park. Women. Real women. If she wasn’t doing these things, was she truly a woman at all? How could she ever fit in? How could she ever be like Brooke? 

She wished she was in her protective boymoder hoody right then. In her baggy jeans, where nobody could see the shape of her ass or the contours of her obscene bags of fat on her chest. She needed to protect herself from the world. She needed to protect herself from judging leering piercing eyes calling her a sex freak, screaming those words behind her eyes, saying she’ll never be anything like them.

I'm a fucking tranny. I'm a fucking tranny. I'm a fucking tranny...

She can't just turn around and go back to work - that would look weird! Everyone would stare and examine why the weird tall linebacker-shoulder freak with long hair and fake stuffed bra is making a sudden change of course on this relaxing spring day. It'd make her stand out even more than she already does. So she'll be brave and courageous, and give into her fear, and keep on walking. 

There's no way she could explain these fears to Mark and John, who had never had to feel fear at walking down the street before. Ramona would just tell her she was being "brainwormed". Jennifer and Brooke, other cis women... No one could possibly understand Sophia. She knew she was alone. She knew John has some anxiety issues, but there's no way he'd ever understand something like this. Her struggles are just too unique, too special. What would he even say if she talked about it with him? She doesn't even know what he really thinks about her transition, since he's been so silent and distant for weeks. It hurt. She needed to talk to him, at some point. 

Someone save me...Somebody save me...

But for now, she'll remain silent. One becomes stronger while suffering in silence - if you speak out, and open the pressure valves, seeking relief or support, you lose the opportunity to grow stronger from the pain. To endure in silence is the road to perfection. To resist the urge to complain is to not bother anybody else or disrupt their much, much more important and busier lives. To whine is to build resentment against you, to be silent is to garner love. To speak out is to threaten retaliation, to let things flow over means to not risk things getting worse. That's what Sophia knows to be true deep inside her heart. She won't complain, she won't whine, she won't cry, she won't reveal her vulnerabilities, because that's how they get you in the end.

Sophia thought again of her experience with Ramona by the bridge. She was still secretly paranoid she might use what she screamed out there against her someday, all her embarrassing stupid secrets. She didn't know enough about Ramona back to feel like she had enough leverage against her, as some kind of security chip, to make sure she doesn't spill the beans to anyone else she may know. Revealing secrets to people is dangerous without the proper self-defense mechanisms in place. Hopefully one day, she'll be able to be closer friends with Ramona and learn more about her, for her own safety. 

She was getting distracted now. She just needed to get home. She just needed to get home. She has a goal. She has no reason to be afraid of anything if she has a goal.

I have a goal...I work for a living...I can't be shamed over walking back home...To an apartment I pay rent for...I am a responsible normal adult...I deserve to be here on this sidewalk...I deserve to be here...I need to do this...

Maybe she doesn't look like a freak. Maybe she looks like a girl. She tried her best to recall Ramona's constant affirmations of positivity, of telling her how much of a pretty girl she is. She can be a normal girl. She is a normal girl to some people. Maybe to most people. 

Remember Ramona's words...She says you pass...You pass...I pass...I'm a girl...I look like a girl...I look something like a normal girl...

If she's a Normal girl, and looks like a Normal person, there's no reason to be anxious. She will overcome her anxiety. As long as she's Normal, she has no reason to be afraid. She will get home. She will get home. She has to get home. She will get home.

 

—

 

Breaking news: She survived.

"Hey Nick!"

It was Mark. While she'd told him her name was Sophia now, she was hesitant to enforce it too much. That's make her 'annoying'. She'd just let the pieces fall as they may. If she tried hard enough to be a 'Sophia', then surely he'd start to respect that in turn. 

"You back from work? Listen, I know you'll just say no like you always do, but I gotta be nice, so, you wanna go to a party tomorrow night? John'll be there."

Sophia's eyes lit up. She missed John so much. It's funny how one little piece of news can lift a terrible awful day up from the gutters. 

And...a party? Could this be her chance to introduce herself to the world, as a girl? She'd never gone to one as Nick, so there was no chance of anyone knowing who she was. It was a free space. There wasn't any way she was going to miss out on an opportunity like this. She knew she'd be safe, if her friends were there. Surely, nothing bad could possibly happen. It was just being around a bunch of strangers, what's the worst that could happen?

She was going to show the world the new and improved Sophia, Girlmoder Supreme. Confident, charismatic, charming, extraverted, and most of all, overwhelmingly normal and devoid of mental illnesses. This was surely the real start of her new life. 

"YEAH, I'M FUCKING GOING!"

 

---

 

Her sister’s room was being painted, and so she had to sleep in Sophia's room tonight. 

She couldn't remember why they'd drifted apart in the first place. Didn't they used to play together? She figured that ever since she'd made her own friends, she didn't have time for her little sister anymore. Sophia was a boy after all. 

Girls are better at making friends. They have big friend groups that do things together all the time. That's just what girls do. Sophia was a boy, so it was normal to be alone. That's normal for boys. She wasn't allowed to go to her older sister's sleepovers anymore. She was getting older. She was a boy. She needed to be more mature. She missed them a lot. She didn't like what the boys did to her.

Maybe this was her one chance to be friends with her again. She was sure she would understand. 

Sophia had a little secret - she had been practicing singing, by herself in her room, for over a year now. It was pretty fun. She'd never been artistic or anything before. She spent most of her life reading books, and doing her homework, and staring at the ceiling for hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours until it was bedtime. That was all what Life was to her. But singing seemed so exciting in a way nothing else felt like. She didn't know she could feel alive doing anything at all. She didn't know she was able to do anything but schoolwork. She didn't know she could be good at anything but getting good grades. 

It was a bit weird though - she had been trying to learn to sing like a girl, after all. But girls are better singers and sound much, much prettier, so wasn't it fine to want to sound like one? It made sense to her. As long as she had a goal, she could pursue it without shame. As long as she kept it secret from everyone, too. It was pretty fun. It was a cool nifty talent. Sophia was sure lots of people can sing, but how many boys can sing like a girl? That just makes it cooler, right? She was pretty proud of herself. Maybe one day she could even show it off to the world. 

"Hey, do you wanna hear something cool?" Sophia said to her sister, a few minutes after she'd closed the lights. It was normal to talk during sleepovers, after all. Sophia was very normal.

"What's cool?" her sister asked, after a moment's consideration.

Something started nagging at the back of her skull, but she tried to ignore it. 

"I can sing like a girl."

Something started nagging at the back of her skull, telling her this isn't something to reveal to others.

"...What?"

"Here, I'll show you!"

She sprung into a rendition of a popular song on the radio at the time. It was originally sung by a man, but she figured out how to make it sound like a girl, with all the right inflections and vocal twists and flairs she'd learned from the girls around her. She was so clever. She'd practiced this one for months, it was one of her favorites for sure.

Something was nagging at the back of her skull, telling her someone was watching, listening, judging her. 

She thought she had done everything right. 

Something was nagging at the back of her skull, eyes goring holes into her brain. Some thing was watching her. 

"So? Whatdya think?"

There was silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Maybe I shouldn't have done that.

"I don't think you should do stuff like that. I think we should go to sleep."

"Yeah. You're right."

 

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