| Home Away From Home I remember the times I would give my femme side liberty to roam about. I would always ache to let it be free when I eventually came to the point of having to pull in the reins. Living a transsexual life that is not out of the closet forces one to know everything about compromise and balance. I sought to find some sort of balance between my gender identities in order to retain my sanity. But I never felt good about the inevitable compromise. Going back to being "Stephen" was usually a painful experience. I knew I had to compromise my love affair with "Stephanie" in order to maintain the great illusion that everyone who knew me had come to accept as reality. As I approached the residence I knew I was closer than ever to making balance and compromise obsolete in my life. SRS was the final step in that process. Once you have the surgery there's no going back. My conviction was so strong I knew there would never be any doubt about leaving my former existence behind. Not once during my transition did I ever believe that I would ever miss my penis. In a matter of days I'd have a vagina in it's place. I was excited to get the show on the road. I pulled up the street to the residence with nervous energy. For the next two weeks I would be living with total strangers. My life was going to permanently change in the process. I had to trust that the people who were going to take care of me were competent and hopefully kind. The residence is located on an island. You have to drive across a small and very narrow bridge to get to it. As I drove over the bridge I got the sense that once you go in you will not be coming out the same. While parking my car I noticed a rather tall and broad blond girl walking up to the residence. She wore a long black leather coat and had spikes of hair to go along with her goth makeup. She made me wonder how interesting the next two weeks would be. I unloaded my bags from the car and headed for the door. I was met at the door by Margaret, she was one of the staff. She introduced me to the spike-haired blonde and informed me that she was going to be my roommate. I tried to be open-minded, but I had a feeling she would be a challenge to live with. Looking at Margaret I remember thinking "Here I am. I'm yours for the next two weeks. Tell me what to do, how to do it, when to do it, and I'll do my best to get it done". I don't think that I'm a high maintenance broad by any means, but that attitude would prove to make my stay there a cherished one. Margaret invited me in and promptly informed me of one of the many rules at the residence: leave your shoes at the door, slippers are required in the house. I still have those slippers. Whenever I wear them I can feel myself gliding around the residence. I was the last person they were expecting before the weekend. I brought all my belongings in the house. She led me downstairs to a spartan bedroom with numerous beds. It would only be me and the blond-haired girl down there for the next three days. I hoped it wouldn't end up being a disaster. Margaret told me dinner was at five and not to be late. There were three mealtimes. Dinner was at 5:00pm, breakfast was 7:00 to 9:00am, and lunch was at noon. Be on time, stay out of the kitchen, and you would have no mealtime worries. I was given a copy of the rules of the residence to read. To some, maybe the rules might have seemed onerous, and perhaps the residence might have appeared more like a bootcamp. But to me, I felt right at home. My main motive was not to piss-off the caregivers. I wanted to make it easy for them to take care of me. So, I headed upstairs for dinner with a room full of people I would be meeting for the first time. BACK NEXT |