Michelle | Trans Scömìche

Chapter 1 - Me

"Michelle, what do you think of this dress?" my mother smiled warmly at me, a floral dress on a white coat hanger in her hand being shoved into my face. Hesitantly, I shook my head and gestured to the black button up and tie I had in my grasp resting on my hip. I didn't like 'girls' clothing, it wasn't me.

"No, thank you. I would really rather wear this," a smile hid my thoughts, but it dropped as soon as I saw her expression. There was a certain emotion her eyes held, but I couldn't put my finger on which it was. It was more of a combination of anger and disappointment. She didn't like it when I preferred to wear 'boy' clothes over 'girl' clothes. Did it really matter? At the end of the day, it was simply clothing that people stereotyped to different genders because of designs and colors, so why was I required to wear a certain one?

"You're going to buy the dress, Michelle," I could tell she was trying to keep herself calm, she'd grown so used to my bullshit that it irritated her more and more everyday, "we haven't seen the Maldonado's properly in years, and it would be a shame to have you being so sucked into this phase that they weren't comfortable. Now go try this dress on right now."

Taking the clothes from my hand and hanging them onto the nearest rack, my mom pushed the dress and a pair of black heeled shoes into my arms. The fabric wasn't even truly on me and I already felt uncomfortable, like I was being violated by simply touching the clothes. Turning on my heels, I headed towards the dressing room with my head low. This isn't what I wanted, I didn't want to see the snotty Maldonado family or wear dresses made for girls. I'm not a girl, why can't my mother see that?

I never thought of myself as a girl, really. Growing up I had dressed myself in dull-ish 'boy' clothes that my dad bought for me, because I told him that was what I preferred. He even called me Mitch and not the dreaded name Michelle that I was forced upon since birth. Even when I was in kindergarten, I wanted to be called Mitch and wanted to wear male's clothing, but as I aged I was forced back into the name Michelle and wearing female's clothing. My dad had passed away by the time I was in fourth grade, leaving my mother in charge of me. She rid my closets of the clothing I had, told me to tell all my friends and teachers to call me Michelle, bought me dresses, and made me hang around the Maldonado family.

My nose scrunched up at the thought of them as I entered a dressing room. The dress was tossed aside as I took the hem of my plain white t-shirt into my hands, pulling it over my head and watching it drop to the floor. My chest wasn't bare, a bra still clinging to my skin like the leech it was. I hated wearing it, I hated having breasts. Hooking my fingers into the loops of my jeans, I began to pull them down as I allowed my mind to travel back to the Maldonado family.

The Maldonado's consisted of four people: Kelly Maldonado, Joshua Maldonado, Tyler Maldonado, and her.

Her being Kirstin Taylor Maldonado. Kirstin was the epitome of homophobia, transphobia, and beauty. I have never been able to understand how so much hatred was able to pack into such a small body, but who was I to judge? I was only six inches taller than her, and I was definitely more of a rude human being but I had my reasons. She was mean just for the sake of getting mean, like people who hunt just for the sake of killing an animal. Kirstin hated me, called me 'dyke' and 'butch'. It wasn't the teasing that I hated, it was how repulsed she was at the idea of a female to male or male to female trans. She treated everyone transgender that she met like they were an abomination that needed mental help to get back into the 'right state of mind'.

"Michelle! Are you done in there?" mom's voice breaks my thoughts apart and I can't piece them back together, so instead I kick my jeans aside and pull over the dress. It's tight in the chest area and a bit too low cut, showing a little more skin than I was comfortable with in this body. Everything waist down was flow-y and kind of complimented the body that I hated. It sent chills all over my body to think of wearing this around Kirstin. She'd probably make jokes about how I was finally learning to be my gender.

"Yeah, mom, I'm done," my voice and expression match each other, both sharing the idea that I wanted to rip this dress off my body and wear what I usually did.

The dressing room door opened, my mom standing in the way with her hands over her mouth and a look of pride in the eyes that had one held disappointment. It was a nice feeling, to know that at times she did accept me... but, only if I was wearing and acting in the way she wanted me to.

"You look beautiful, Michelle, oh my lord! We need to buy it," she smiled, closing the door and allowing me to strip myself of the dress. I threw it aside, breathing a sigh of relief as my jeans were pulled back onto my body, the t-shirt feeling more comfortable and natural than the tight fabric of the girly clothing. Slinging the dress over my shoulder, I exited the small room and slipped away from my mom's open arms. She looked like she wanted to hug me, and I was repulsed at the idea of doing anything of the sort. My legs sped up their movement, walking to the cash register as quickly as I could so I could get out of the god damned store.

My face fell when I saw who the cashier was.

"Avi!" my mom was panting at this point in time, having to run to keep up with me, "are you coming with the Maldonado family for dinner tonight at our house?"

It was Kirstin's boyfriend, Avi. He wasn't as terrible, actually he was something much different.

Avi Benjamin Kaplan was worse.

"Yes, I am. Is this dress for your daughter?" he stressed the word daughter, "I think that she will look great in it!"

"Is there something I'm missing here?" my mom raised a brow, looking between us.

"Not at all, Ms. Grassi!" his tone was bright and cheery, but his eyes told a different story. They were boring holes into my eyes. I frowned and looked away, taking the bag from him.

"Come along, Michelle! It's time to get ready for the dinner party. See you there, Avi!"

I dragged my feet heading to the car, sitting in the passenger seat and plugging my earbuds in, blasting electronic music to block away the noises of my mom gushing over the Maldonado's.