A transitioning story as told by a friend
“I don’t like the lightning and thunder,” Carl said in a frightened voice. He moved closer to me, as if I could protect him. His T-shirt was so soaked, it clung to him and was practically transparent. It was then that I noticed what looked like straps over his shoulders. I had no idea what they were.
“Hey, whatca wearing under there?” I asked, pointing to his shoulders. It was too hot to wear even a T-shirt, but wearing something under it made even less sense.
His face began to redden. “Nothing,” he replied.
“No, there’s something,” I persisted.
He just stood there, looking at me. His face was even more red. “If I tell you, you’ve got to keep it a secret. Will you do that?”
“Of course,” I said. Now I was really interested.
He pulled off his T-shirt, and there was some kind of garment there. Not having any sisters, and being rather naive about girls, I had no idea what it was. “What is that?” I asked.
“A camisole,” was his reply. I could see that it looked like something a girl would wear, but the word “camisole” meant nothing to me.
