RANSVESTIA

added unflinchingly, as if she had used babysitters all her life. This whole thing was snowballing out of control. Way out.

Within the week, I had three nights of babysitting lined up. The first one mother had accepted without even consulting me. I was real cross at her. But when she argued that we could save money this way for my college education later, I had to agree that there was a certain logic to this. And I sure could use the money later. So as usual, my own wishes and feelings were ignored. Again. I should not have given in. I could have earned money as a boy, right? But as I said before, I seemed to become more pliable and agreeable, and obedient to my mother.

The first few times were hard. First walking the streets to the house in question, feeling naked in my short skirts, nyloned legs and fearing that I was conspicuous in my high heels and pig tails. Also, what did I know about diapers and formulations and little girl dresses? But I learned... oh boy, did I leam... about pacifiers, dressing little girls and boys, reading bedtime stories, taking toddlers to the john, and once even how to ward off over-eager adolescents.

It follows that I was more and more in public now. Lots of people seemed to recognize and know me. At least judging from the greet- ings and smiles and looks of approval which I noticed almost every- where. I even went shopping with mother nowadays and later also alone, without evening thinking about it.

The troika of fairy godmothers... better drop that fairy... I don't like it ... continued active and watchful. It felt almost like I had to pass an exam, everytime the three of them were together. They nagged me, criticized me, improved me, feminized me, till I honestly began to expect my period any day. The funny thing was that they did it in such a nice way that I just did not have the heart to be nasty to them, or resist their efforts. Especially so with mother.

We had become closer, till sometimes it seemed that I even began to understand her. In some things anyway. I began to see that good manners forbade a girl to prance too much, or show too much cleav- age... or in general to be too obvious. I had learned that from Mrs. Weingarten. She had said that I was such a natural, good-looking girl, with a style of my own that I did not need to be "obvious." "Just yourself Christine ... people and the boys can't help liking you.

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