I'm Not Cinderella

Invitations

The invitations came today. I want to go. The prince, I'm pretty sure, is either gay or bi. He's been in relationships with men and women, but neither are actually proven. I hand the invitations to each of my sisters, and they squeal with excitement. "Oh, Cinderella, you have to make us a dress!" Anastasia yells, even though I'm right next to her.

"I want mine green!" Drizella demands.

"Make mine purple, and don't screw it up," threatens Anastasia.

"Yeah, sure. What kind do you want?" I ask.

"Something that will get us a prince," they say in unison. That roughly translates to low neckline, short, and tight, tight, tight.

I look at my own body, the one I hate. My chest isn't huge, but it's noticeable, my hips curve, and my long blonde hair extends to my belly button. This just isn't me. My name is another thing that isn't me. I mean, Cinderella? Could you get any more feminine?

A few years ago, I tried to explain it to my "family" but they just didn't understand. After that, they made a point to use Cinderella, and the wrong pronouns. It's awful. Lady Tremaine even hit me when I told her. Even the cat hated me more after that. I hated myself more after that. I wasn't ready. I am now.