As soon as he read the definition he felt strangely relieved, for here was proof that he was not the only one in the world.
By the time he was twelve, he had collected a complete wardrobe of female clothes from charity shops and catalogues. He had read everything he could about his ‘condition’, and knew he had to get female hormones before puberty set in.
By chance he had been in Amsterdam, staying with his cousins when he had been taken up into the city centre. His father didn’t approve of Amsterdam, as there was much to lead young people astray. However, his cousins were completely different to his parents.
His uncle Max was his mother’s younger brother and was a dentist in a busy practice. He and his wife Martha had four children; all but Jens were slightly younger than Michel. Jens was three weeks older, so it was with him that Michel was cycling into the city from the suburbs where they lived.
They left the bikes in a cycle park and walked to the games shop that Jens wanted to visit. He had arranged to meet some fellow gamers there. Michel had simply waited in the sunshine, window shopping, as he didn’t share Jens’ fascination with Warhammer.
He found himself outside a shop that simply had the word TRANSFORMATIONS in Dutch on the outside. The frontage was completely curtained and was very mysterious. He peeped through a chink in the curtain, seeing some women undergoing beauty treatment.
Jens obviously got involved in a game, but to Michel’s confusion he saw men entering and leaving the beauty salon. It dawned on him that this was probably a salon for men who felt like him.
Summoning up some courage, he went in.
A large woman was behind a desk. She was heavily made up, wearing a frilly blouse. She looked at least sixty.
“Hello, are you lost?” she asked, her voice rather too deep for a woman.
Swallowing and forcing a smile, Michel had simply answered as truthfully as he could.
“No, I’m not lost. I’m a transsexual, so I was hoping to find someone who would understand,” he had said.
The woman looked at him for a moment, but then her face softened into a smile.
“Then sweetie, you have come to the right place. What's your name?”
“Michel.”
“No, your name is Michelle!” she had said, coming round the desk.
“How old are you?”
“Twelve.”
She had frowned. “I’m sorry, but no one under eighteen is allowed in here. It is the rules,” she said.
Michel’s face fell, but she smiled at him.
“Do you live in Amsterdam?”
He shook his head.
“Parents don’t know?”
“No, and they wouldn’t understand.”
“Tell me about it. I was forty when I transitioned.”
“Transitioned?”
“When you start living as a girl. I was forty-three when I had the operation.”
“Operation?”
“Oh, you poor lamb, you don’t have a clue, have you?”
“I know I need hormones before I start changing,” Michel said.
The woman frowned. “Have you spoken to your doctor?”
“No, he is my father’s best friend. My father works in the health service.”
The woman took out a pen and wrote something on a card. She handed him the card.
“Look, I don’t normally do this, but that’s my phone number and my address. My name is Mariella and I want to help you. If you get a couple of hours free, give me a ring, and then I shall see what I can do. I know a good doctor who does a lot of work with people like us.”
“Us?”
She smiled.
“I was just like you once. My one huge regret was that I never changed when I was your age. If I can help you, then I will.”
Michel had left after thanking Mariella. Jens had not missed him and was still engrossed in his game with his friends. When he finally did leave, he was not curious about Michel’s new found cheerfulness.
It had been four weeks before Michel had the opportunity to call Mariella. To his surprise she not only remembered him, but had spoken to the doctor in the meantime.
A week later, while his parents were out, he had a day by himself at home. So, he had cycled over to the station and caught a train to her town. She lived in a small house on the outskirts of the town, so he had been glad he had brought his bike with him.
She had greeted the lad like a long lost relative, immediately calling him Michelle.
“Have you ever dressed?” she’d asked.
Michel nodded. “Whenever I can.”
She had smiled. “Is the dressing important?”
“I used to think it was, but now I just want to be a girl. The clothes make me feel more like a girl, but really, I really need to not be a boy any more.”
Mariella helped him dress and make up his face. She even gave him a long blonde wig, in which he immediately felt at home.
He stared at the reflection in the mirror.
Looking back at him was the person he wanted to be with all his heart.
“You are such a pretty girl,” Mariella said, so Michelle was born.
Over the next weeks, Michel visited Mariella as often as he could, and on one occasion he found another woman with Mariella.
She was a doctor who specialised in gender dysphoria. She examined Michel and spoke to him at some length. Michel told her about his family situation and how he was so afraid of his father, in particular, finding out.
“I can’t prescribe female hormones for you. It just would not be legal. But I can put you on a low dose androgen, just to prevent puberty from hitting you. This should keep you until you are sixteen, when here in the Netherlands you can legally apply for proper hormone treatment without parental consent,” the doctor told him.
So started Michel’s very gradual process.
Mariella had felt sorry for the lad, so managed to acquire some hormones quite legally, but quite illegally began to supply him with a low dosage along with the testosterone blockers he got from the doctor.
By the time he was fifteen his shape was more female than male and his budding breasts were beginning to become obvious. His voice had never broken and his movements were effeminate and graceful.
School was a nightmare, but he survived by being intelligent and a keen cyclist, swimmer and a long distance runner. Team sports were not for him, so he thrived by being good at solo sports.
One summer, he had been camping with his family in the south of France. Their parents had gone to visit the perfume centre at Grasse, leaving the two teenagers behind.
Michel was nearly sixteen and Gabrielle was fourteen.
Michel introduced Michelle to his sister.
Gabrielle was initially shocked, but then saw her brother for whom and what he really was. Once dressed, she only saw Michelle and a lot of things suddenly made a lot more sense. They became closer as a result.
Michelle and Gabrielle used to spend lots of time together, but both knew that Michelle would never be accepted by their father. Their mother, Trude, would possibly accept her, but Henricus would never do so.
When Michel turned sixteen, he went to a different doctor and told him everything. After a thorough physical examination, the psychiatric sessions started. For two years they continued and Michel lived a double life.
At school and home he was Michel, but then whenever he got away he became Michelle. Once he was old enough to drive, he started working in a local market to get enough money to afford a small car. When he was eighteen, he achieved his goal and bought a small Opel.
He spent as much time with Mariella as he could, and now was actually on his own prescription of hormones. Becoming Michelle was the whole focus of his life and nothing else mattered. School, university, career and family meant nothing to him. To become Michelle, totally and completely, was all he wanted to do.
He left school with reasonable grades. He was capable of better, but he didn’t care. He had to strap his breasts up whenever he dressed as Michel, as he looked very female now. Tight clothing was out, so he had to wear ambiguous and baggy clothes all the time as a male.