"Looking good ace"

I got home and went straight to the computer. But I was tired and hungry, and scarfed down a plate of pizza bagels. Then before bed I felt disgusting. I can't even remember eating so much so quickly when I was a man. I'd better be careful, ladies' clothes apparently don't handle weight gain like men's fashion does. I just don't wanna be a fat chick (with all due respect to the gorgeous plus-sized ladies pictured here.) M wardrobe's on loan.

I didn't wake up with my hand in my panties, although I had a hell of a time getting to sleep. I feel like my breasts have a mind of their own. I think I can understand why women strap them up, although the strain on my shoulders is already, by this point in the evening, leaving marks.

But, dressed in old gradeschool-aged Simpsons pyjamas and a D.A.R.E. t-shirt, I woke up wondering what I had been dreaming about and why I felt so... oh, right. My back was sore and stiff, keeping rigid posture all night, arms barred straight across my lower abdomen. I tossed and turned all night, eventually deciding bras were not meant to be slept in. I don't even know when I actual fell asleep, but it couldn't have been too long before my alarm went off. I sat up and then fell back down, trying to just ignore the radio. Fsst, wasn't going to work. I rolled outta bed and slung the t-shirt away, just letting them hang there in the cool morning air for a second.

It's just... a new sensation in that there is a sensation. New nerves, new receptors, so much more jazz going on here. I don't know.

Not having a lot of time, I wanted to just hop in and out of the shower, but before I hopped in I caught my reflection in the mirror and had to note it.

I'm so slight. I wasn't a bulky, muscley guy by any means, but I had a certain sinew to myself. I flexed my arm and it got virtually no result. My legs are thin, I don't think I could run too fast on them (not that I've run all that much lately.) As for my hips, they're not your stereotypical "hourglass" figure, kind of a gender-neutral. Haha, like a 12-year-old-boy doing a tuck-behind (ew.) The curve is there, just not accentuated in any way.

A few years ago I was at a party where two girls debated their breasts. One, a little on the small side, envied another, more fully-endowed girl. She in turn complained of the hassles she had to endure. At the time, I was lost, but now I'm understanding. Maybe nobody's ever really satisfied with their breasts. And how can they be? I don't know, at this point I've spent less than 24 hours with them.

Also this morning I got debunked for me several of the more... esoteric erotic images men have of women. Yes, a woman in the shower is hot. A woman undressing is attractive. A woman spending an extended amount of time on the toilet... not exactly beauty queen stuff.

My hair grew, I have no idea what that's about. It's longer than it was when I first changed last night. I can't prove it, I didn't measure, but it's nearly to my jaw, so I can tell I've got a few more inches. In fact, Steph pulled it back for me (leaving the front parts to dangle down the sides of my face.) I walked to school, and it took longer than usual. I'm not walking at my same stride as usual, which is something I didn't notice at first.

Disheavelled though I was, Trish told me I was "looking good," called me "ace" (?) and insisted we go do make-up. I declined. She begged. I refused. She demanded....... I got up and left.

First girl's room experience... hrm. I had to get over my long-held male fear of sitting, because I'm guessing women just deal with it and treat their facilities more delicately. That's my experience anyway. And there was a potted plant in there! For obvious reasons, I've never before seen a potted plant in a washroom. That'd be disgusting.

Trish cornered me and gave me an ultimatum: a little make-up today, or she pins me down and slathers it on tomorrow. Defeated, I told her to get it over with.

I don't like it. I've been on stage in high school plays, and I didn't like it much then. I feel like I'm just wearing a mask over my mask now. No make-up tomorrow. Makes my coffee taste nasty.

I got a couple -- not many -- noticable look from strangers, and mostly before the make-up. I wonder if I was so obvious when I would eyeball a girl in the hallway. I'm trying not to be grossed out, because if they're like me, the thoughts are mostly innocuous. I'm just afraid of that one guy who I make stop in his tracks and come after me..........

So I keep my eyes down, occasionally eyeballing a girl myself. I'm under cover. Maybe they won't know. I'm just admiring their top... sure....

Haha, I'm gross.

-Alex