My Life as Savannah: College and a Job

Mother sat me down at the kitchen table and asked me what I thought about starting college as Savannah. I told her the scholarship was in Kenny’s name, and I doubted I could pull it off my first year since I had to live on campus in a dorm.

I did take a couple of college classes over the summer at a local community college. I transferred the credits to my four-year school.

I chose the scholarship at Florida State in Tallahassee and studied for a double major in Business Administration/Finance and minored in Accounting. From home, it was only about a four and one-half-hour drive South on I-75. I arrived at my university with mixed feelings. I still hated the clothes I was wearing. But being on the fast-track program, I figured I could gut it out for a few years and do the same I did in high school, and I’d be fine. I was so enthralled by how the college girls looked. Their clothes, their walk, their skin, and the smell of their perfumes and lotions. I still wore panties but had to be careful my roommate didn’t see them or in the locker room at the gymnasium.

Just like high school, I re-immersed myself in my studies. Some girls hit on me, but I wanted to be them. I’d never dated a girl before or ever made love to one. My experiences were being a girl. Girls on campus liked that I noticed their hair, shoes, and clothes and always complimented them, even on the littlest of details the other boys never noticed about them.

Since I wasn’t dating, rumors started materializing that I was gay. So, I begrudgingly had to take out a few girls to dispel the rumors. I did learn a lot about being a gentleman from my Father, Fred, Mr. Franklin, and the men I saw at their country club. The ladies loved me for my chivalry.

I’d call Mother once a week. She always asked how I was and feeling. I kept telling her I was doing okay, but I wasn’t. As a Mom, she knew I was depressed, not being able to dress. My body grew almost a half-inch, but I managed to keep my weight well under 90 lbs. I kept up my running and yoga that Sis introduced me to.

I came home for Thanksgiving. Mother and Sis (and so did I) missed Savannah. They ask me to change. I was reluctant to do it. My hopes would be up for a few days home, then back to my depressing male clothes.

In my final years back on campus, it seemed damned if I do and damned if I don’t return as Savannah. To choose to be a full woman with hormones and maybe surgery was always lingering in the back of my mind. I became even more and more self-centered. All I did was continue to be absorbed in my schoolwork. I felt like I was going to burst from hiding who I truly wanted to be. I finally confided in Mom about my feelings again. Of course, she still felt responsible for encouraging me to be a girl. I reminded her I had a choice. She said she’d scheduled me to see a psychiatrist, and she would go with me when I got home. I knew I had must do something. I knew depression could lead to excessive drinking and drugs. So, I agreed. Unbeknownst to me, my Mother saw the psychiatrist first and told her version of my story along with Savannah’s photographs and videos.

Mom hoped seeing him first would make my session somewhat more productive and that I could walk out with a reliable solution and a plan of action. I felt terrible about being deceiving and not being true to my girlfriends, Fred, and the other young men I dated. I also loathed not being true to myself. But somewhere deep in my heart, it felt right. I felt so real, so alive being Savannah. I thoroughly enjoyed it and started thinking I was a real woman. Still, I wanted to come home and repent to Fred and my girlfriends. But for some reason, I couldn’t repent to Savannah.

The psychiatrist saw all three of us; me as Savannah, my Mother, and Gwen. My Mother and Gwen told the doctor they thought of me as their daughter and sister to the doctor their accounts and feeling about me, respectively. We talked for about 20-minutes.

After the talking and asking questions, the doctor recommended that now since I didn’t have to live on campus, I could live off-campus and keep experimenting with dressing as Savannah. Then decide if I’d like to continue living as a man or become a woman.

I quickly bounded up off my chair to my feet and blurted out quite loudly (and not very ladylike) at the doctor. “It isn’t an experiment, damn it!” Shocking the psychiatrist, and even more so Mother and Gwen, I stormed out of the room. Mother came out to me in the hall, seeing how distraught I was. We went home with nothing resolved. I was no better off than when I walked in.

I talked it over with Mom first at home. I no longer had any interest in being Kenny. As a crossdresser on occasion, I felt I’d still be deceiving people. The best and last choice to become a woman—I did not know the process, or even where to begin—or if it was even humanly possible.

Living off-campus on my own, I agreed to Mother I would dress as Savannah on weekends. Mother sent me all my Savannah clothes. She kept everything. My hair was even longer now and was well below the middle of my back, and I remembered how to style and apply makeup. The makeup I had as Savannah had long expired. Mother replenished all my makeup and more. On occasion, Mother or Sis would drive down to visit several weekends. I was happy going out with them. Being in a college town, the word of a new girl in town traveled quickly, and Sis reminded me of what college boys wanted. I told Mom that I wasn’t going to spend hours getting ready and not go out. And I had zero interest in meeting other crossdressers.

I enjoyed Mom and Gwen’s visits and the times I’d come home as Savannah. On long weekends and holidays, I drove to and from college as Savannah hoping I wouldn’t’ be pulled over by the police—so I drove very carefully. I stopped at gas stations to refuel and restaurants to eat. No issues. I did have a flat tire once and went out to change it. A very kind man stopped his car and changed it for me. I loved being a Southern damsel in distress.

Mother says my old girlfriends wanted to know when I’d be returning. Fred stopped asking. Mother and Gwen were both aching and wanted Savannah back too.

Graduation was near, so I went to several big campus job fairs. I received three job offers that were difficult to turn down. I am still just under 20 years old. I’d be graduating with honors. I knew I had to get on with my own life, so I accepted an incredible job offer in Yankee country—Chicago, Illinois. The company was named DJ Harris.

I spoke to Mother and told her I’d been offered a $70K starting salary. But I had to move to Chicago. Like all Moms, she supported me but longingly wanted me to live nearby.

I drove home as Savannah to visit Mom and Gwen for two weeks after graduation. Sis just graduated and had a job in marketing here in town. I told Mother I never felt more alive than when I was Savannah. But life happens, and I now had to make a living on my own. Mother helped me with my move and made sure the apartment, I’d now call home, had plenty of room for Savannah and my drab male clothes.

Since my hair hasn’t been cut since Junior High Mom, took me to a salon for what she called “a good hair trimming,” so I’d look a bit more presentable for my new job. I still came out with hair for a long ponytail.

And to make matters worse, I had to wear a darn suit and tie every day to work. Yuk! But, I was happy to be able to keep my long hair. The job was great, fun, exciting, and very extremely challenging. I finally made it, at least in one aspect of my life. But doing so, I hurtfully left Savannah Thomas far behind in the dark, murky shadows. I had dreams of Donna’s breasts in the dressing room, the girls undressing at her slumber party. The clothes, the gown, the dancing. The feeling of being a woman. Being Savannah. Being a woman.

Mother’s eyes lit up when I told her I’d be dressing as Savannah on weekends. I prayed she and Sis could visit Chicago on occasion.

I had the money and the means now. So I began dressing as Savannah on weekends and would go shopping and dinner at a nice restaurant. Puberty had changed my voice a little, but I seemed to work through it efficiently. Oh, I started electrolysis to remove my facial hair.

Many of my female outfits still fit. And Mom always sent me something in the mail that she thought would look cute on me. Most did look good, but I had to remind her I was no longer a young teenager. She got the message, and my style changed.

Savannah was back but now somewhere still in the lower realms of heaven. At least on weekends, I felt incredible. It felt terrific having men asking me out—well, the small percentage that was okay with me being trans. Not a single man stood at the table or got my chair. ‘Where are all the Southern gentlemen?’ I kept asking myself. I still wasn’t old enough to drink. I found several Chicago under twenty-one-nightclubs a blast and danced with many boys and girls to talk and giggle.

I was still unsure and praying that Savannah Thomas may be here to stay. I was a lot better off than in high school and college, but nowhere what I wanted to be—to be Savannah Thomas full-time. But I still did not know how to do it or where to begin.

Next: Dating as Savannah.

Tags: featured, fiction, Identity, Transgender

Category: Fiction