Being Different

Coming to Terms...on Being Me

A/N: Dedicated to:  ambermoon3105  taxham ladymaryterrace  cristinairiza Zachsilver26 LucainArmand Aaron_Ledgers MiMiAngelus Annteee kay

I was born Derek Anthony Halestrom...a full-blooded male except for one major difference...I have a vagina. Since I was a baby, I was diagnosed with a certain physical condition where my male sexual anatomy although fully developed never descended, and I ended up with a vagina...YES, A VAGINA!!! The more medical term for it was a Disorder of Sex Development or DSD for short. I never really considered myself any different from the other guys, except that I wasn't allowed to talk about it.

Growing up has been very difficult...I remember my friends going out to the river to go skinny-dipping. I really wanted to go, but of course my parents wouldn't let me. They were afraid of what other kids might think...that I was a freak of nature and would probably never be accepted anywhere. I would probably be bullied at school, if I wasn't tactful with my appearance.

So, I have this BIG SECRET about my physicality...BIG DEAL! As a kid, I was made to wear those really thick trousers to hide the fact that nothing bulged down there. I had an aunt who was skilled in sewing, so she altered all my trousers including my underwear to make sure I had a hint of that 'bulge' where it was necessary. She gave me a 'package'; the works but I felt FAKE...I felt STUPID...For the first years of my life, it all felt like a complete farce...

By age thirteen, I decided to ditch the modified underwear, trousers included. Hey, skinny jeans are all the rage and I wanted a pair so bad I wish I could grow actual balls just to look good in them! Well at least, I did look good in them, even though everyone probably thought I had a small dick, I didn't really care!

My parents constantly refused to go to parent/teacher nights to meet my teachers or my classmates' families, always citing excuses like they were going on business trips out of town. I guess they didn't want to associate themselves with the fact that they had a son who was a 'freak' like me. They would argue behind closed doors, acting as if I was non-existent in the household. I always felt alienated – a stranger in my own home.

Whenever I got back from school, I would make a bee-line for my bedroom, only to be accosted by my father who would rant to my face about his predicament of having a son like me. My father would binge drink and on many drunk occasions,  call me a 'freak' to my face while my mother would painstakingly try to hide the fact that I was different. It was hard for a kid to understand why I couldn't be accepted for who I was, even more so as a teenager.

One evening, they had decided that enough was enough. They packed up all my belongings and deposited me outside of my grandmother's house. The woman was clearly overjoyed to see me, as I was to see her. She knew I was special and she had no problems with what lay underneath; I was her grandson and that was that. All she knew was how to love me, and for that I was eternally grateful.

I was determined never to let the incident with my parents ruin my chance for a career in sports, especially football, even if I had to squeeze a damn sock down the front of my pants just so I could hang around with the boys and not feel out of place. But it was equally important that I excelled in my studies as well. I was known as the 'jock-geek', a name which stuck with me throughout high school, simply because I loved science and all things mechanical. I kept my disguise throughout my junior years on the football team.