And no son of mine is ever going towear a dress!" I replied angrily."You are going to disown our son if he is transgendered? What kind oftransphobic ...ather are you? You really should apologise, she was sohappy being one of the girls," Isabel replied with just a hint ofsurprise in her voice."You think I am transphobic just because I don't want to see Clarkwearing a dress? Well you can call me transphobic, I don't care!"Isabel decided she would not try to argue with me, her prejudicedhusband,. Our session was scheduled for 1:00 on a Saturday afternoon. I was quite apprehensive as Dennis drove towards the destination, which was a house in a semi-rural suburban town. My attire was informal, jeans with a green turtle neck sweater, Dennis was in jeans and a sweatshirt. I would soon regret not having attired myself differently.As we drove I pondered some possibilities. Perhaps we should have notified a trusted friend of our destination, with instructions to search for us if we had not. More

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