For the next two weeks, I was dressed andtreated like a boy. Funny how differently can feel just based on how he(or she) is dressed and treated. Still...there was something not quiteright in how I felt those two weeks. I couldn't tell you what it wasthen. It was like a part of me was missing. The best way to describe it,from a two year Old's point of view was that I was missing somethingimportant to me. Maybe it was the fact that I wasn't wearing cute girlythings. I didn't know for sure at the. On the other hand I might Ineed them for protection. I decided to keep them for themeantime, but get rid of them when we met up with French forces.I knew we had yet another problem. We had to travel to the Southto meet French forces, yet our new attire was almost completelyuseless for walking along the muddy roads. Anyway we would haveto move slowly. I could hardly breathe in the corset anyway. Atthis rate we would be months on the road, before we could getback home. I got out a pair of the old. More

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