“The conservatorship papers were filed yesterday.” Helen responds.

I feel betrayed. “And you know this because you provided one of the affidavits.” I not bothering to hide my disappointment.

“She said I needed to do it, to keep you safe, and so that she could handle your affairs. I panicked. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Tina, darling, I’m so glad you are awake. I asked them to give me a call the moment you were conscious”

“No games mother, just tell me what I need to do to get my life back.”

“I’ve lost one daughter; I’m not losing you too…”

Chapter 4

Girl 102 - Getting more boys wearing dresses - that was the next stage.

Girl 101 - well that was where it started ..... and now the program was expanding so that more boys and girls could join in. And my life was getting complicated - and interesting - and frilly and generally rather different than I had ever expected. And most of the time, I liked it.

“Happy birthday dear Rachel…” The assembled crowd sang as the birthday girl cringed behind her voluminous blonde hair, “happy birthday to you… To you… To you… To you to you to you… To you… To you… To you to you to you!” Rachel giggled at the crowd’s use of the tune of Cyndi Lauper’s hit ‘Girl Just Wanna Have Fun’ to extend her embarrassment further, before brushing her hair out of her face and blowing out the 29 candles that had been placed on her cake- which was, of course, shaped exactly like the hat she and all her friends wore as part of their uniform.

My friends used to joke... (albeit wrongly, I would add.)

What's separates a crossdresser from a transsexual? About two years and therapy.

Magic isn't very smart, and when spells mix, the end result turns a semi-normal boy's life into anything but regular.

“Is there any point in having a birthday party if the actual birthday girl herself isn’t going to be here?” Becca moans as she paces back and forth, nearly deafening everyone with the rustling of her petticoats underneath her knee-length pink dress.

“Oh, just give her time,” Adeola says. “She’ll get here eventually. It’s not her fault her family lives an hour and a half away and she’s their only child.”

“I, Nicola Christine Thomas,” I whisper as tears start to trickle from my eyes. “Take you, Sarah Jennifer Phillips…”

“Beep,” the minister says, derailing my train of thought. “Beep, beep, beep, beep….” I let out a long sigh as the pristine white veil of my wedding dress is replaced by the dark brown veil of my hair, which had flopped down in front of my face whilst I was sleeping.

“Morning,” I whisper to the beautiful girl whose face is the first thing I see every morning when I wake up- and whose own brown hair is, of course, tied back and away from her face.

As I left the shop, Scarlet murmured ‘goodbye’ or maybe it was ‘good buy’. As I walked away I thought ‘what a wonderful, almost magical afternoon.’ I thought about what she had said and promised that I would make some changes in my life.

I wasn’t going to be a downtrodden, feeble excuse for a man any longer. That was for sure.

"Oh shit," Krystie gasped as she gently lowered Mary onto the floor. "Someone get me some hot water! Joshua, do you have any towels?"

"There are some in the dressing rooms, I'll get them now," Joshua said, hurrying out of the studio.

"I am NOT giving birth on this damned floor," Mary said between gasped breaths. "And I am most definitely NOT giving birth without painkillers!"

"Jamie, call 999," Krystie ordered. "Charlotte, call Dan, get him here now."

"Will do," Charlotte said, dialling the number for Mary's husband's workplace.

Jamie-Lee Burke yawned as the alarm on her phone woke her from a dreamless slumber. It had been a long week, but it was now Friday- a chance to relax and let her hair down, which she had every intention of doing that night, surrounded by all her friends.

"Morning, sexy," Jamie whispered in the ear of her still-sleeping fiancé, who mumbled incoherently as he slowly opened his eyes.

"Does it have to be morning?" Stuart moaned, eliciting a small giggle from Jamie.

Imagine that you are enjoying a warm summer afternoon on your back porch. Your mother is at work and your father is out of the picture. Your best friend, Aimee, has left town on a plane to visit relatives and your mutual best friend, Kim, has gone to an isolated, disconnected cabin with her family and wont be back for three weeks. Aimee calls while waiting at Baggage Claim and clearly has something on her mind that's bothering her. You offer to talk to her, but she tells you that it's girl talk and she wishes that she could talk to Kim. What do you do?

“Beautiful, girls,” Miss Fullerton announces as the twenty-odd teenagers bow, before extending their arms and legs into the most elegant shapes. “Extend… And pointe.”

“C’est magnifique,” Mademoiselle Renou congratulates in her refined French accent. “Group one, you will continue practising at the barre. Group two, you will practise your pas de deux.” I, as a member of group two, nod, before following Mademoiselle Renou- not to mention a dozen leotard-clad teenaged girls- to the centre of the room.

It was getting to be about that time. The time of year when the world froze over and the cold settled into my bones to rest.

This winter would be different though. I had finally decided that I could no longer continue as I had for so long, trying to be who and what I was supposed to be when even my life cycle differed from most around me. Oh sure, there were other magical creatures out there… more of them than there are of the mindblind in fact but I wasn’t like most of them either.

I grimace as I feel the pressure increase on my back, and grip the armrests of my chair for support whilst my ‘friends’ all whoop and cheer. I force the corners of my lips to turn upwards into a smile, though that smile soon fades when the roar of the jet engine is drowned out by a loud squeak from my right hand side.

“Oh! My! God!” Georgie squeaks, shredding my nerves more and more with every word she says. “This is so awesome!”

“Mmph,” I moan as I feel a gentle breeze blow on my left ear, worsening the thumping headache caused by the alcohol I drank last night.

“Wake up,” A familiar voice whispers, before the breeze on my ear resumes.

“Stop that,” I moan. “I’m on holiday, I don’t want to wake up…”

“WE’RE on holiday,” my fiancée reminds me, her blowing turning from a gentle breeze into a hurricane as she blows directly into my earhole.

“Ugh,” I moan. “Can I at least shift this hangover first?”