They were not the dullish clothes that boyswear. They were bright and pretty. Not only did they feel good, they mademe look pretty. I don't care what ...eople say. But panties and tights feltso nice and were a perfect start to every day.I was accepted at school as a girl and I started playing with girls moreand more and began to think what they talked about was so much moreinteresting. However, there was one boy that could not accept it. His namewas Martin. He kept calling me weird and a sissy. I. To finish she used a hairdryer and combed it the same way she must havealways done with Lisa. At that moment "John" came in and, indeed, 'his'hair duplicated my boy cut. It was even cut so a few strands would looklike short sideburns, like the ones I had had up until a few minutesearlier. Plus, the stylist had dyed the highlights in "his" hair back toan even brown color.Then I was handed a mirror. You can't imagine what it felt like to seemy new hair. I had the same blond highlights that I. More

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