My fondest memory was my First Communion. I would begin my outing as I were a of the little girl within.

I was born of well-off parents. My father died when I was quite young, so I don't remember him very well. My mother then doted on me and could never say no. My friend Nancy and I were eagerly awaiting our First Communion. Her mother had made her a First Communion dress and it was beautiful-- full of stiff petticoats and lace and white nylon with puffed sleeves I could not wait till I saw my dress! Then I learned the official truth: I was a boy and I was going to get a suit to wear. A drab suit and pants. I thought it quit unfair, but what was I to do? Ask for a white dress like my friends? Not if I wanted to be teased; I didn't. Still, I felt quite gypped about it. I lost all interest in the event. About the day before, I even asked not to participate. This got my mother's attention, and she eventually got it out of me: I wanted to wear a dress, not some dumb old suit. Mother told me that she would see what she could do, but that nothing short of the end of the world would get me out of making my First Communion in my new suit. So I accepted my fate and went down the isle in my suit and the Bishop presented me a black rosary and prayer book for boys instead of the glass rosary and pearl-covered prayer book for the girls. Nancy was so pretty in her dress! Each time she moved, she kicked the petticoats high and swished down the aisle.

When I came home, Mother had me go into my bedroom and change, but not into my old clothes, but into a white communion dress. It had everything from the nylon panties to the white hi-top socks that were so shear that the lace could clearly be seen on the background of my skin. And then, the petticoats! How wonderful! I spent a long time dressing; so much that Mother came back to see what was wrong; but it was perfect. Mother curled my hair, and attached a little vale to my head. And I as given white shoes with two inch heels. I spent the rest of the day in my communion dress, and Mother gave me the white book and crystal rosary and took my black one. Nancy come over and Mom took pictures of us in our dresses. It was a wonderful memory.

Today, I live as a female and teach little girls in a girls' school. Later this year I'ill have an operation to complete my transformation to a female. I still have the prayer book and, of course, my First Communion dress wrapped carefully in a box in my closet. To be sure, not all little boys who wear dresses go this way, but I only ask understanding and a fond memory.