Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Calypso
Title: The Transformation of Evelyn Thomas
Part: Chapter 5
Summary: The erotic journey of a young man through transgender
transformation to a new female self.
Keywords: MF, MMF, TG, cons, reluc, oral, anal, rom, 1st

   Send me your comments at calypso93<at>gmail<dot>com

   CHAPTER 5

   Day Nine

   Lloyd (as he insisted I call him) planned three overall procedures.  The
first, and longest term, would be the sexual reassignment.  While he was
skipping the normal three month psychological counseling, this would still
be a year long process, or more.  The initial stage, hormonal treatment,
would take about 6 months, with the initial results first appearing in
about two weeks and the fuller changes emerging in about 3 months.  I would
have to expect mood changes as well as the physical changes as my breasts
developed, my body and facial fat redistributed, my body hair lessened I
would still need some electrolysis procedures to eliminate it all), my skin
softened, and my muscle mass decreased.  There would also be heightened
senses of touch and smell and a general feeling of being more 'emotional'.
It would be like puberty again, as Lloyd put it.  The treatments would
continue for some years, but the changes would become less and less
noticeable after the initial six months.  Following the first year we would
start planning the surgery.  Lloyd planned to start the hormones right
away.

   The second procedure was breast augmentation.  While my breasts would
grow and become active and sensitive (I would have milk!) with the
hormones, generally most reassignment treatments didn't enlarge beyond
about a B-cup.  From his trained surgeon's eye, Lloyd made some
suggestions, which he backed up with a nifty little computer program that
altered my actual photo to show how I would look with the different options
he outlined.  While I was a slender man, I was a tall girl but not too
big...  about a size 10.  Much of this was in the width of my chest and
shoulders.  In addition to being a bit tall for a woman, I also lacked a
woman's pronounced hips, so I had a long, narrow, wide frame.  I, of
course, wanted large breasts for the feminine and sexual appearance, but I
didn't want to be grotesquely out of proportion.  It turned out that Lloyd
had a procedure for all of that and that would also increase my chest width
as to make my figure more proportional.  The key, he said, would be round,
smooth saline implants under my chest muscles, which would allow for my
"natural" breast growth as well as hanging with a natural appearance and
spreading their volume laterally as well as straight out so that the
breasts would hang from under my arms as well as my chest.  Lloyd planned
for B-cup sized implants so that my expected B-cup growth would create
something on the order of a large C or small D which should be, he said,
the best overall proportion for my size.  He showed me the photo.  It
looked great!  I could hardly wait.  This was like ordering from a
Christmas catalog.

   The third procedure I had never heard of.  It seemed that there were
other procedures that he called "body sculpting." Specifically Lloyd
suggested a process of liposuction and skin tightening to reduce my waist,
with the removed fat transplanted to my butt and hips as collagen
injections in order to fill them out and make them rounder and fuller.  As
time went on the hormones would add to this effect, giving me a feminine
curve.  I was amazed!  I loved it, of course.  Curves!  Now I really was
excited.  I imagined all the cute outfits I could wear and what Pete would
think...  and other men.  Hmmmm....  Yum.  Other men...  The possibilities
were definitely improving.

   I was amazed at the pace he set as soon as I said yes to his planned
regimen of reconstruction.  He had the hormone treatment all laid out.  A
bottle of large pills for me to take daily and a shot of other hormones
that would develop the "secondary feminine characteristics" he had
described.  As soon as he had finished with this he planned the surgery...
for the end of the week!  Only five days away...  the minimum time, he
said, for the hormone surge to level off and for him to plan the necessary
procedures and me to fast prior to the operation.  Four days!  I was not to
worry about the wedding, he said (apparently Karen and he had discussed
this).  While an in-patient procedure, normally the stitches came out in
3-5 days and the swelling was minimal by day seven.  I would still feel
some soreness for about three months but this would be indistinguishable
from the tenderness I could expect from the hormonal changes and natural
growth during the same time.  Basically, he said, I should plan on wearing
a bra with good support for about three months, but by the time two more
weeks had elapsed I would be fine for Karen's wedding...  I would have
cleavage!

   Lloyd was right about the mood changes...  but Karen was such a great
pal and we were so busy with the florist, caterer, the reception hall, the
dress maker, and the final invitation list that I hardly noticed.  We
completed the Army paperwork and sent it in.  Karen commented later that I
was giddy...  like a teenage girl...  and that she had never seen me so
alive and happy.  I guess I was.  I certainly remember it all very happily.
I felt as if I had never lived before those weeks.  My nipples were already
feeling tender and swollen by the time of the operation, four days later.

   Day Thirteen: The Operation

   I was nervous, but Karen soothed me...  she would be there when I woke
up and tomorrow her fiancé, Rick, would arrive and I would get to meet him!
She had planned a cover story about me having elective cosmetic surgery, so
I wasn't to worry about him finding out the "truth" unless I decided to
whip off my hospital sheets and dressing gown and show him my cock.  She
had also planned a full regimen of the hair and skin cosmetic treatments I
had started with, although a bit less radical this time, both because it
would be maintenance and because of my expected soreness.  Lloyd had
arranged for electrolysis while I was in the hospital so much of my body
hair would be permanently taken care of while I was still under partial
sedation.



   I don't remember much about the operation...  I went out as they had me
count backwards, before I even got to three.  My waking afterward was a
hazy feeling of distant soreness; with Karen's concerned face smiling at me
in my dreamy state and the minor stinging of the electrolysis seemingly
miles away, as if it was being done to someone else.  I drowsed and slept
for most of three days.  The sedatives made me sleepy, which was just fine
by me.  I slept and dreamed I was beautiful and desired by thousands of
men.

   Day Sixteen.

   Lloyd let me medication level fall on the third day and I awoke from a
pleasant dream of dancing with a succession of handsome but indistinct men
and realized I was staring at the hospital ceiling.  I took a moment to
adjust.  My hips and butt and waist were sore.  They felt bruised, as if
someone had been hitting and punching me there.  My breasts hurt too, but
with a more acute, swollen sensation.  My nipples were poking at the
hospital gown and sheets.  My breasts!  My nipples!  Still a bit shaky from
the anesthetic, I pulled down the sheet and my hospital gown.  I had
breasts!  Real live, honest to goodness breasts!  My nipples were hard and
poking up from firm, round breasts.  I couldn't see much lying down.  I
wished I could stand and admire them in a mirror.  I felt them, gingerly.
They were firm and covered in my own smooth skin.  The skin was very
sensitive, almost tingling to my touch.  The undersides still had gauze
dressings were the incisions had been made and were the sorest so I avoided
them carefully.

   Lloyd came in shortly and examined me.  "Well," he said in his usual
brisk, friendly doctor's way, "How do you feel?" I told him about the
soreness and shakiness and he advised me that it was perfectly normal. 
"Actually," he said, "you're one of my better patients.  You're healing
faster than most, the surgery went absolutely like clockwork, and your body
accepted the implants and transplanted fat without a hitch.  Your skin is
very supple, that helped a lot.  I think you may be one of my finest
efforts!" I felt absurdly pleased, as if I had made a grand achievement. 
We chatted a bit more about future treatments, he gave me another hormone
acceleration shot, and he examined my incisions, both under my breasts and
around my waist, hips, and butt.  Everything was fine, he pronounced.  He
would remove the sutures this evening, observe me over night, and if
everything stayed as fine as it had been so far, send me home with Karen in
the morning.

   Just then, as if according to a signal, in walked Karen trailed by a
tall, handsome, and very large man in a sport jacket and jeans.  "You're
up!" she squealed and ran over to give me a big, but gentle hug.  She
whispered in my ear as she did, "We'll talk more when we're alone..." In a
normal voice she went on, "And this is Rick!  Rick, baby, this is my very
favorite little sister, Eve!"

   "Hi, Eve!" Rick said, affably, looking a bit embarrassed.  "Uh...  sorry
to barge in on you like this.  Are you feeling OK?"

   "I was a little groggy at first, but it's passing.  It's great to
finally meet you!  Karen was right...  you are a sexy hunk!  Do you have an
available brother?" I asked, mock flirtatiously.  Poor Rick blushed all the
way down past his neckline and looked at his shoes and stammered.  Karen
laughed and gave him a big hug and nuzzled his muscular neck.

   "Isn't he a big sexy baby!  And he's all mine, and there are no
brothers, so hands off sis," she said, mock growling and grinning at me. 
We all laughed, they got chairs, and we sat and chatted for some time. 
Rick really was a great guy, I could see as we chatted and I watched him
and Karen.  They were great together.  I felt a small tinge of jealousy...
was that really me or just the hormones?  I guess it was all the same by
that point.  The day went by slowly.  Karen and Rick had to go to more
wedding appointments (Karen promised to be back first thing in the morning
with clothes and a secret girl talk) and I sat and channel-surfed for the
rest of the afternoon.  Later that day Lloyd came back and removed my
stitches painlessly (thank goodness); pronouncing everything fine and ahead
of schedule.  I watched some more TV, had a bland and unsatisfying dinner
and fell asleep, still a bit drowsy from the after effects of the
anesthesia.

   Day Seventeen.

   I awoke early, feeling rested and much better.  The soreness had
diminished noticeably and I felt refreshed and clearheaded.  All the tubes
had been removed from me overnight, except for the EKG monitor, which was
clipped to my finger.  I had to pee and, besides, I wanted to see myself in
the mirror.  I sat up and, after waiting a bit to feel steady again after
four days on my back, stood up.  The floor was cold on my bare feet, but I
felt fine otherwise, so I walked over to the bathroom, trailing the EKG
cord, and studied myself in the mirror.  I didn't look all that good, but
that was to be expected...  pale, my hair a mess, and my face and eyes
still puffy from four days of sleeping.  Nothing that a hot shower, some
spa time and makeup, and some coffee won't fix, I thought to myself.  Now
for the big moment.  I shrugged off the hospital gown and inspected the new
me.

   I had curves!  And breasts!  It was amazing...  I turned from side to
side and inspected myself.  My breasts were perky, high, and firm and
beautifully shaped and topped by lovely red nipples, standing up like erect
little rosebuds about to open.  I touched them cautiously...  it felt like
me...  I felt their weight tug at my chest as I moved.  They were just
right...  wide-based, swelling from the middle of my chest and under my
arms, hanging down to a point at the nipple and based in a firm ring of
smooth skin with an angry red but thin and smooth line of scar tissue about
three inches long at the very bottom.  The nipples pointed outward from my
center just slightly, giving my chest a wide lifted and separated look that
was just right for my frame.  They were perfect.

   My waist was noticeably smaller...  about three inches smaller, I
thought, and with four small red lines of scar, equidistant on the front
and back of my abdomen.  My skin was pulled tighter than before and my hips
seemed bigger in comparison to my new waist.  My hips were fuller and
rounder, and, as I turned, I could see that the curve of my ass had been
filled out so that my cheeks were two perfect globes of smooth, tight skin.
Lloyd had told me that this would settle over a few weeks and that my
natural fat layer would increase with the hormone treatments and that I
could expect an ass that would be perfectly heart shaped.  This was fine, I
thought...  and if it improves it really will be perfect.  I also had pink
dots from the electrolysis, but I expected they would fade with time, along
with the scars.

   I peed (sitting down!) and then, feeling cold, got back into bed.  Karen
came in shortly, with breakfast.  We chatted as I ate.  She had brought a
bag of clothes, but she wanted the time to talk to me in private and I had
to wait for Lloyd's OK to leave in any case.

   We chatted for some time.  Rick had enjoyed meeting me and had
pronounced me "a babe" although how he could tell from my drugged bed-head
appearance I don't know.  I appreciated the compliment nonetheless.  The
wedding preparations were coming along fine and how was I feeling?  That
was my cue to sit up and show her the new me.  Karen was impressed.  She
oohed and aahed and examined me minutely, commenting that my new breasts
were "better than hers" and wondering if Lloyd could improve hers to look
like mine.  As we were playing with the new me, in came Lloyd himself...  I
felt absurdly embarrassed as I hastily covered up, considering that I was
his handiwork, like a statue with her sculptor.

   Lloyd examined me carefully and pronounced me fit, so I got dressed
(Karen, practical minded as always, had brought cotton panties, a cotton
sports bra, sweats, socks, and sneakers) and I sat in the wheelchair as
they wheeled me out.  The sun felt good and warm on my face and I felt good
and happy and complete.

   We still had ten days to go until the wedding and Karen and Rick had
everything well in hand, so I spent the next three days luxuriating on our
private patio, feeling my soreness melt away and feeling the actually
pleasant swelling of my breasts as Lloyd's treatments did their chemical
trick.  It took a little getting used to, to be honest.  Having breasts was
different.  I could feel my nipples rubbing on his clothing.  I became
aware of brassieres, I mean really aware of them, for the first time: I had
always thought of them erotically or decoratively, even when I had started
wearing one.  Now it was evident to me that a bra was something else: a
functional garment whose primary purpose was support, support which I was
painfully aware that I needed.  My chest had changed forever.  Only days
ago it had been flat and covered with a scattering of wispy reddish-blonde
hair.  Now it was now smooth and rounded, with large pink nipples stretched
out by the firm, pliant mass of the implants beneath.  From what Lloyd had
told me, that would continue to change as my own breasts developed from the
hormone treatments and my entire body began to shed weight in some places
and add it, and swell my breasts, in others.

   I could feel the slight added weight on my chest as I exercised lightly,
walking on the treadmill, relaxed in the spa, and had my hair extensions
renewed and styled and my waxing touched up.

   By the weekend I was feeling human and well again.  My hair was
rejuvenated, deep cinnamon red and lustrous, my skin glowed, and my scars
were fading a bit more every day.  The electrolysis had eliminated almost
all my undesired hair, and the wax took care of the rest.  I was still
entranced by my new breasts, like a kid with a toy, and I couldn't believe
the new curve of my waist and hips.  My clothes would all fit better, and I
probably wouldn't need the corsets any more...  although, to be honest,
wearing them gave me an erotic thrill so I wasn't planning to get rid of
them any time soon.  It was nice that I would now be able to wear some
fashions I hadn't been able to before...  like tight low jeans and
bare-midriff shirts, for example.  My hormonal surge had settled down to a
pleasant glow of emotion...  I felt a warm sense of well-being, happiness
bordering on being chipper, and a strange urge to be near people.  I
spontaneously hugged Karen, which she liked, and Rick, which made him
stiffen a bit before relaxing to this new attention from his soon-to-be
"sister" in-law.

   Day Twenty One

   After three days of relaxation and rejuvenation I was ready to start
going out again.  Karen had been spending a lot of time with Rick, as you
would expect, so we planned a "girls day" for the weekend.  My Army
paperwork had been processed with what seemed like lightning speed (the
Army does not do paperwork quickly, as a rule), no doubt due to the
influence of Karen's friend.  I had been supposed to go up to Fort Irwin
(about a 4 hour drive from San Diego) but Karen had me execute a power of
attorney and then with that and a medical affidavit from Lloyd attesting to
my "inability to travel due to surgery" had gone to complete my
"out-processing." This was really just a lot of paperwork, which came back
approved and with directions to go to the nearest military installation at
a later date to execute a few remaining pieces of paperwork and get a new
ID card attesting to my new status.  New status and sex, I thought to
myself.  Everything was going just as Karen had planned it.  It was
amazing. So much had happened in three short weeks.

   Pete had called and left messages, wanting to ask me out again; I had
called back and left messages at his apartment that I would be available
this weekend for another date.  I hadn't set anything up yet, but I figured
this weekend would be a good time.  That meant...  time to go shopping!  I
was learning to enjoy the simple act of shopping as a pure girl activity. I
decided to dress fun and flirty for the day at the malls.  I had breasts
and a waist and I wanted to show them off...  although I still had to wear
a full-support bra (no push up bras for me, yet).  I could still show more
chest than had been the case previously.  No bare midriffs yet, either.

   I started with some understated makeup, a basic foundation and eyeliner
and a shock of dark red lipstick.  After considering my clothing choices
and my still healing scars I settled on a clinging long-sleeved dress made
of knit cotton and spandex blend in charcoal gray.  It hugged my body like
a glove and then dramatically flared at the waist.  It closed with
two-dozen tiny cloth-covered buttons down the front, the line of which
ended about a foot above the hem (which fell just above my knee) so that
when I walked or sat and crossed my legs I would flash a little thigh.  (I
had been thinking about the ease of taking it off and putting it on again
in dressing rooms and I only had to undo about 7 or 8 buttons for that
purpose.) It had a v-shaped neck from slightly padded shoulders, drawing
the eye down to just a hint of my brand-new cleavage.  I played my lingerie
safe and simple with black cotton panties, nude thigh high stockings, and a
black cotton bra.  (I was still wearing antibiotic adhesive dressings over
my incision scars and I didn't want to irritate those areas.)

   The fit showed off my new figure spectacularly...  it was the first time
I had worn something other than sweats or a robe since the operation and I
inspected the new effect carefully.  The "hang" was much better now that I
had a pronounced waist, and the clingy but stretch material was a good
choice for it.  As I would discover later, I had solidified my sizing. 
Previously I had been a size 10/12, which varied with the manufacture of
the material (for some reason, women's sizes are never quite standardized)
but also because my essentially straight male hips and waist, contrasted
with my fake "breasts" had defied normal sizing in relation to my height.
Now I was a better match.  My sizes eventually shook out as a size 8/10
bottom, a combination of my narrow male hips and newly accentuated hip and
butt, and a size 10/12 top, reflecting my relatively broad chest and
shoulders combined with my very new and very real breasts.  (Over time, as
my breasts developed naturally from the hormones, this would expand to a
size 12/14.) This gave me an "inverted pear" shape in that I was bigger on
top than on the bottom, something most women consider enviable (and which
men, bless their dear little horny hearts, find particularly eye-catching).
The bottom line was that I would have to buy separates to fit my top and
bottom, or buy clingy outfits that would stretch to fit, have my clothes
altered to fit, or buy to fit one or the other and then accept either a
loose bottom fit or a tight top fit.

   This dress was a good choice, considering all that.  The gray material
of the dress set off my dark red hair nicely; I decided to set it off with
a gray bow tying my hair back and combing it flat and sleek against my
scalp, back to the bow and pony tail.  The hair and the dark accents
particularly accentuated my pale (after a week indoors) skin.  I completed
the look with matching grey and white plaid baby doll pumps with 3" heels
and cute little black bows at the heel.  Some black pearl earrings and a
black handbag and I was all set.  Karen was looking stylish in a black
leather mini skirt and a white stretchy sleeveless mock turtleneck and
white pumps.  We complimented each other on our looks and off we went.

   We had a wonderful time.  We laughed and chatted and shopped and bought
new outfits, separates, and accessories.  We went to three different malls
and walked streets of boutiques and had a delicious light lunch on a patio
by the waterfront where we flirted shamelessly with the cute Italian
waiter, Antonio.  He was darkly handsome and very young, with dark longish
hair and dark eyes and was a university student.  Karen stroked his arm and
looked into his eyes as she ordered in a low throaty voice, while I plagued
him with indecision by "accidentally" letting my skirt slit rise up,
showing him a long smooth expanse of nylon-covered thigh, stocking top, and
just a hint of the pale smooth flesh above.  He was torn between Karen's
sultry gaze and the voyeuristic thrill of my exposure.  He was so flustered
he had to correct his record of our orders three times and then almost
dropped our food as he served it.  He was extremely attentive though... 
Karen left him a very generous tip.

   God, it was fun.  I left swishing my hips in a warm glow of erotic
thrill, savoring the way my nylon-covered thighs swished cool and free
under my flowing skirt and the tight stretch of my calves in my high-heeled
pumps.  I didn't really think about it at the time, but I had settled
comfortably into a new persona.  I really was a new person.  The old me,
the me I had been for all those vaguely and indeterminately unhappy years,
was gone, replaced by a confident, happy, outgoing, and even bubbly me.  I
was learning to like myself.  Decisions and challenges loomed ahead,
though. Karen and I talked through some of them on that long sunny day.  We
had dealt with the immediate issues: Karen's wedding, my decision to pursue
a permanent change, and the administrative requirements of reconciling that
change with my career were all in progress.  But where would I live?  I had
left active duty, so now I needed a residence and a home where I could
nest, complete my change, and build a new home and possessions to support
the new me.  For one thing, I had a complete male wardrobe I needed to
divest myself of!  I would need a job, too...  not so much for the money
(as I think I mentioned, Karen and I are sufficiently well off that we
don't really need the Army income to maintain a comfortable lifestyle), but
simply to stay active...  soon Karen would be off on her honeymoon and her
new married life and I would need to stay busy or I'd be bored.  Maybe some
continuing education, I wondered?

   Then, of course, there were legal and identity issues to be discretely
solved.  California, it turned out, will issue an entirely new birth
certificate (not just an amended old one) and a legal name change as a
single procedure based on an affidavit from my physician, Lloyd, attesting
to my completion of the change process.  We decided to work through our
family lawyer (who also administered our trust income), a dear old
gentleman based in San Francisco named Robert Gilliland.  Uncle Robert, as
we had called him since we were little, was a dear old friend of our
parents who had looked after our interests after they died.  He was also
gay, living with his life long partner Don, and thus could be relied on to
be sympathetic, although we were going to have to tell him the news...  he
would probably be more upset at being told late than at the topic.

   Once the birth certificate had been generated, the rest would be easy.
Karen's friend in the system would handle the military records and
electronic database.  A drivers' license would be easy with a birth
certificate, and then a passport.  The military ID could be handled based
on the military electronic database for proof of service, the birth
certificate and drivers' license as confirmation of identity, and a little
"feminine wile..." Karen was teaching me that, as an attractive woman, I
could always "play stupid and helpless" which, along with a little
flirtation, would get me through quite a lot of bureaucratic wrangles in a
male-dominated world.  God, how I was learning to love men now that I no
longer was one!  I had had no idea that men were so transparent and easy to
manipulate, but I was learning, and also learning to appreciate the fact.
They were really kind of cute and boyish, in a naughty sort of way, as I
could see now.  Especially considering that they all really just wanted to
get in my pants.  Of course, I wanted them in my pants...  which made it
all the more fun to think about.

   One of the last things we did that day was go to the dressmakers for the
fitting of my bridesmaid's gown.  I was the maid of honor, of course, and
Karen and I had a nice giggle about how she had decided and announced that
I would be even before I had become a "maid." That, plus the fact that I
was literally a "maid;" a single blowjob and diddling myself occasionally
with a piece of plastic notwithstanding.

   Karen has excellent taste and her choice of bridesmaid dresses confirms
this if there was any question.  She had not gone with one of those
revolting pastel shades that make the bridesmaids look like breath mints,
but rather a tasteful gown that would be suitable for formal engagements
apart from weddings.  Since the wedding was scheduled for the afternoon,
with the reception as a dinner and evening affair, she had chosen black
dresses that would contrast well with the ivory bridal gown she would be
wearing without detracting from the attention the bride should receive. 
The bridesmaid dresses were one-piece in black satin, trimmed with a pink
sash around the waist and tied in a small bow just off center in the front,
from which the sash continued as a falling trim in a widening upside-down
v-pattern down the front of the flowing floor-length A-line skirt.  It was
off-the-shoulder, sleeveless, simple, and elegant.  I loved it.

   I loved even more how I looked in it.  The dressmaker, a dear little
Korean lady of indeterminate age, fitted me and pinned it and fitted me
again and fussed over me as if she was my mother and I was going to the
prom.  That's actually how I felt, and I got a little wistful wishing that
a handsome man (Pete?  Maybe Antonio the sexy waiter?) would be meeting me
with a corsage for a fairy tale night out.  Maybe Pete was available.  I
made a mental note to call him this evening.  Maybe he would be my date for
the wedding.  The fitting was perfect, and we made an appointment to come
back and pick it up later in the week.  I was the last one, all the other
bridesmaids were already taken care of.

   Unfortunately it didn't work out that way.  When we got back to the
hotel there was a note for me from Pete.  He had been ordered off on a
deployment exercise, flying up to Washington state.  He didn't expect to be
back for several weeks.  I wondered if this was a brush-off, but he ended
on a positive note, hoping that I would still want to see him when he got
back.  Crap.  Not the end, that sounded promising, but the fact that I was
now without a date for the wedding.  Maybe it was the hormone changes, but
I was feeling pretty down about it.  Karen noticed and tried to cheer me
up, but I was in a bleak funk, feeling unattractive and unloved.  I wasn't
suicidal or anything, but I wasn't happy, either.  Karen's chipper
happiness at being a bride-to-be didn't help, either.

   Looking back, it's interesting how quickly the hormones were having an
effect on me.  Apparently I'm on the end of the sex-change bell curve in
that my body adapted far more quickly to the chemical and surgical
modifications than does 98 or 99% of the population.  Just like I've proven
to have a body chemistry that stores up body fat in no more than moderate
quantities, so while I've grown pleasingly curvy, I've never had a weight
problem.  Go ahead and hate me, ladies.  Sorry, that's just the girl that I
am.

   Well, women's moods are far more susceptible to body chemistry than men.
It has to do with the serotonin levels in the brain.  You can look it up.
The sky-high estrogen levels in my blood were adding serotonin receptors in
my brain, making me more emotional, more sensitive, but also more
vulnerable to chemical imbalances.  The solution to enhancing the ability
of the serotonin to function was occasional shots of high-carbohydrate
foods, like chocolate or ice-cream.  This is a complicated explanation that
leads to me sitting on my couch, watching maudlin women's movies on cable,
and eating a pint of chocolate ice cream (two in one!) washed down with a
couple of shots of brandy.  And you know...  it worked!  I had never
noticed before how sad and emotional women's movies were...  the hormones
again.  So I sat and sniffled as the heroine tried to deal with an
unfaithful spouse and then found her inner strength and new love, while
savoring the cold chocolate and the warm glow of the brandy, and, along the
way, exploring my new emotional femininity.  I was truly becoming Eve.

   Well, the next six days were increasingly hectic, so I didn't have an
opportunity to dwell on it.  For one thing, I had to plan for myself after
the wedding.  I was only staying in the hotel through the wedding, and the
original plan had been for the old me to travel on to my new Army
assignment.  That was out, now, so where would I live and what would I do
there?  I didn't really have to worry about employment, I could be a full
time student if I wanted and still live comfortably if not extravagantly. I
spent a day while Karen and Rick were looking at china and linen patterns
and did a little research.  It turned out there was a graduate school in
Monterey that offered a course of instruction in international policy,
which was something I had been interested in; that plus the fact that it
was conveniently located to both my new doctor in San Diego and my legal
(and, I hoped, personal) advisor in San Francisco made it seem like a good
opportunity.  I did a little checking and found out I could sign up using
my veteran's education benefits for the course year starting in about 6
weeks, so plenty of time to enroll, move, and get settled.  And get used to
living as the new me.  I started the process by contacting a realtor in
Monterey and by submitting my online application to the university's
admissions department.  The past few weeks had been a vacation, but now it
seemed it was time to get back to my life...  whatever it would be from now
on.  It was a little daunting, to be honest.

   Staying busy helped, as I noted before.  Rick's parents flew in a few
days before the ceremony and we all went to dinner, with me feeling like
the proverbial fifth wheel.  Rick's dad was a retired general and he and
his wife were charming and friendly, but of course the attention was all on
the bride and groom.  The high point, however, was the arrival of the best
man, followed closely by Karen's old commander who would be giving her
away.