Too Much, but Never Enough

Intermission I- The Great Battle Of The Graduation Dress

"I don't want to wear a dress!" Clyde shouts, stomping his feet. "I hate them!"

"Sophia Marie Donovan," his mother warns, using his full name to show she means business. "This is your kindergarten graduation, I won't have you looking like a slob."

Clyde sobs as his mother wrestles him into a frilly pink dress with big poofy sleeves that pinch his arms. He hates it. He thinks it's ugly and stupid and makes him look like a cupcake.

"There, look how beautiful you look Sophie," his mother says, standing him in front of a mirror. "Can you please stop crying for me? You know I can't stand to see my little princess upset." Her voice is gentle as if it's meant to soothe him, yet instead it evokes a feeling of nausea rising up in his throat. He doesn't want to look soft and pretty like a princess, he wants to look cool and tough like a pirate or a superhero or a racecar driver. Regardless, he does his best to obey, wiping his eyes dry with the backs of his hands and blowing snot into the tissue his mother holds up to his face.

The graduation ceremony feels like a nightmare. Clyde can't help but glower as he jealously watches the boys in his class walk the stage dressed in button up shirts and pants. Clyde wishes he were allowed to dress like them instead of being forced into a poofy nightmare of a dress made up of several layers of itchy pink tulle. As his name is called out, Clyde crosses the stage with his brows knit close together and his mouth set into a deep frown.

His mother carries on the whole care ride home, then some more when they get inside the house, whining and crying about how ungrateful he is and how badly he'd embarrassed her. "I've never been more humiliated in my life!" She shouts. "Seriously? Throwing a fit at your graduation? I thought I raised you better than that. Go straight up to your room missy, I don't even want to look at you!"

"Fine!" Clyde shouts back, stomping upstairs as loudly as he can. Once he gets to his room he slams his door behind him, the sound ringing out all around the house.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the pink and white vanity he's never once willingly used. His dress is so ugly. It's uncomfortable and stupid and it makes him feel awful. He struggles to get it unzipped, but he can't get a good enough grip on the zipper behind his back and gives up, falling into a sobbing mess on the floor.

It takes fifteen or so minutes for his dad to attempt contact, gently knocking on the door before entering. By then Clyde has exhausted himself crying and has instead curled up in a ball at the end of the bed.

"Don't you want to change?" He asks gently.

"I can't. The zipper's stuck."

Roger nods as he listens, taking a seat on the edge of Clyde's bed. "Come over here," he says, "let me see what I can do."

Clyde listens without argument, standing in front of his father, facing away as Roger fiddles with the zipper on the back. After a bit of back and forth movement, it finally comes all the way down. "There you go kiddo, go ahead and change into something more comfortable."

"Thank you," Clyde replies quietly, his eyes still red and wet from all the crying he'd been doing only minutes earlier. He wastes no time pulling off the dress and the tights his mother had forced him into, replacing them with a pair of shorts and a Barney tee shirt.

"So those were some pretty big feelings you were having," Roger says, once he's finished. "Do you want to talk about them?"

"It doesn't even matter," Clyde pouts, crossing his arms. "Everything is always about what Mom wants, nobody ever listens to what I want. I don't get a say in anything!"

"Alright Sophie, I'm listening. What can I do to help my little girl out?" His words are kind, yet for some reason Clyde just feels angry.

"Stop calling me a girl," he shoots back indignantly, his face falling into a scowl. "I don't want to be a girl."

Roger pauses, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before asking. "Why not, Baby?"

"I hate it. It feels wrong, and mom won't listen to me. She keeps telling me to be a good girl and do what she says, but I just wanna be a boy." Tears are starting to well up in Clyde's eyes again as he speaks, and his lip begins to quiver.

"Is it because you don't like the things your mom wants you to do? Do you just want to be allowed to do the things the boys at your school do? You don't have to be a boy to be interested in those things. I can talk to your mom about signing you up for a sport." Clyde can tell he's trying to understand, which is more than he's ever gotten from his mother. Still, he doesn't quite seem to get it. It's not just about hating dresses and wanting to play sports, he knows that girls don't have to always wear dresses and he knows plenty of girls in his class that play tee ball or soccer. What it really comes down to is the way he hates the sound of his own name, and that whenever the class is separated into groups of boys and girls there's always a moment of hesitation where he doesn't know which side he belongs on. Even when playing with girls like Nelly and Red who are less interested in playing princesses and more into kickball and pretending to be pirates, he still doesn't feel like one of them.

"I just don't feel like a girl," he replies with a frown. "I feel like a boy."

Roger goes quiet, taking that all in. Finally he asks, "So what can I do to help you feel better? What would make you happy?"

Clyde pauses. He isn't quite sure how to answer. He's never really had a choice in much of anything before, so he doesn't know what he could possibly ask for. Finally, he thinks of one request. "Can I have short hair?"

"I'll talk to your mom about it, alright Kiddo?"

"Okay," Clyde replies weakly, letting out a disappointed puff of air through his nostrils. He knows that bringing his mother into it means the idea will more than likely be shut down altogether. "And maybe some clothes from the boys section?" He adds hopefully. Maybe at least he can get a couple new outfits out of this, even if his mom shuts down the hair idea.

"Yeah," Roger replies, smiling warmly. "We can definitely get you a few new pairs of clothes. It's about time anyway, you've been growing like a weed, Kiddo."