It was more than just tolerating the corset orwearing a dress, I had come to like being a girl. I liked the taste oflipstick, the smell of my perfume ...nd the tightness of the corset. Iliked the way guys looked at me and the way that made me feel. Havingbreasts that I could show off and legs that everyone said were greatwas also nice, but it was more than that. I didn't want to go back tobeing a guy, and wouldn't do that if I could avoid it. As mom and Ilooked at my reflection in the mirror,. Like mrs. brinson my 8th grade english teacher who caught me taking peeks of her legs as she sat on her desk legs crossed. mrs. brinson taught several subjects including art and i would show up to her class half an hour before school even started and spend the same amount of time in her class after school had ended. i would spend the extra time drawing or painting as we chatted about different things. i knew i was one of her favorite students so i felt comfortable in her presence and. More

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