Chapter Two.

25th May, 2005.

After successfully ignoring you for almost a week, my mother managed to get me to fill you out again. Forcing me to sit at the table until it was completed, "Memories, memories!" she blabbed on, and she also decided that I should name you. Which is stupid, because you're a diary. But, do you know what's even stupider? Me referring to this diary as a being. But none the less, I've decided to call you Steward, on the purposes of keeping my mother happy.

This is stupid.

After being discharged the following morning, my mother took a detour, heading straight into the centre of town. If you haven't clocked on, the town is small and news travels fast. So when I arrived in my all perky glory, people openly starred.

Kenny had given me his smallest shirt, as even Stan's smallest was too large and Cartman was out the question. Stan had given me some tracksuit bottoms, which hung to my hips comfortably after drawing the strings so tight together that the fabric began to ripple.

With my brother's shoes on, we trekked around the town centre for a good half an hour, and collect bits and pieces that were 'essential' although, I really don't think a Sunday dress was really that essential.

I bumped into Craig before we left, "Nice getup, Broflovski" he called after me, and all I could do was tut angrily.

I might have forgotten to mention, that it's my birthday tomorrow, which probably makes everything more stressful for my parents as they will want to get me girlier things, like make-up and perfume, and pop music CD's. Which I guess don't sound that bad, but after spending the last 16 years as a boy, sounds terrifying. Especially, perfume and make-up doesn't aspire to me, hair products only make my hair look greasy – I mean good luck trying to sort my mane out – and I'm more of a My chemical Romance, Bowling For Soup, sort of guy. Girl. Sort of girl. Ergh.

Now, Steward, don't go calling me things, but I really don't want to make friends with the girls. I've decided not to. I've also decided that I do not want to be friends with Craig Mother Fucking Tucker.

But sometimes you cannot pick your friends. I suppose, Stew, this is one of those times.

Now, if you thought walking into school with a skirt on – as your mother had made you – was bad enough. Along with stares and an overprotective Stan. Then it was nothing compared to sitting down next to Craig.

I figured rule number three:

3. Make sure to mention that Craig is an arsehole whenever you can.

Part Two.

After sitting down rather restlessly, I was faced with Craig Tucker; local bad boy and former prankster. Oh, and major arsehole. He slumped down his seat rather ungracefully. Turning to me with the larger smile plastered on his cheeks. "So" He begins, quietly enough that the teacher doesn't hear, but loud enough that I can hear his fucking stupid nasally voice. "I heard you had a rather fun run in with a sex change"

"Oh, shut the fuck up." I sneer, but honestly, if the only thing I can do is get angry, I better laugh. So I did just that, muttering: "Can't you tell I'm already having way too much fun with this?" Pointing my skirt as if to exaggerate.

"I think I'm missing out" He frowned playfully. I nodded back, smiling widely.

"Oh, you bet your sweet arse you are!" He chuckled. The lesson began and I began to take notes, not bothered if the conversation would continue or not.

Soon, he leaned over, with the same nasally voice whispering in my ear. "How did it actually happen?"

"Cartman."

"Cartman?

"Cartman." (Dammit, I said I wouldn't mention him, but there he is, his name written three times in a row in my book.)

"How am I not surprised?"

"Because it's Cartman."

"Probably. You know, you're not actually telling how it happened, just who did it to you."

"I was in a cage, and lasers shot at me" I laughed, leaning towards him, as not to be heard by the teacher. I told him everything the nurse told me, not in as elaborate detail but somewhere near too.

"Hold up" he interrupted, "You mean to tell me, that you're a girl on the inside too, but Stan doesn't know? Oh God, that's comedy gold!"

We proceeded to waste the rest of the lesson talking about useless things before the bell rang and break had started, we had begun to walk to the lunch hall together before I was spotted by Bebe and Wendy and dragged helplessly into the girl's bathroom. And Steward, I mean dragged. The offered to help me and give me a transformation.

It was more of them wanting to doll me up, than transform me, but never the less I complied.

I'm going around the day after my birthday they're going to call it a party, help me 'adjust' into the lifestyle. But it sounds like they'll mock me a bit, make me look like a tart and send me home.

Thank god for make-up wipes and my secret stack of boy clothes.

How are you feeling about this, because I'm feeling pretty good about this so far.