When I was six years old, my father died. He was everything. My confidant, my best friend, and the most accepting of my two parents. I knew from a very young age that I was different. That I was a boy, even though my mother always told me I was a girl. I knew that "normal" boys didn't have periods or vaginas or boobs, and I understood that. I understood that one day I would get all of these (that I didn't already have) and it would make me less of a boy than I already am. I knew this would be hard, but most importantly, I knew who I was. Who I was meant to be. And it was scary as hell.
After my father died, my mother cried every time she walked into her room, every time something reminded her of him. I was numb... I couldn't believe that my best friend was gone... I don't know when it sank in that he wasn't coming back. But finally it did and I cried for six months, coveting all his clothes I could find.
As I got older, I spent less and less time at home, hanging out with my friends that mother hated, loving the feeling of being accepted. But also as I got older, my mother couldn't stand the sight of me, as I was a spitting image of him. She was gone many nights, and when she was here, she was never alone. Man after man after man came into my home, laying with my mother and leaving in the morning. It always made me uncomfortable when I went into my living room to see some strange man in their boxers. I wore my dad's clothes to school, to work, everywhere but to bed. And when I saw these men, I was wearing nothing more than a thin tank top and my underwear.
I hated looking at myself in the mirror. During the summer between ninth and tenth grade, I developed curves, getting bigger in the least manish ways possible.
Today as I got out of the shower, I saw myself in the mirror and I stared, not seeing the boy I was. I held my chest, pushing as if I was trying to push it between my ribs and make it invisible. I saw something yesterday, about a transboy using bandages to bind his chest. I went into my bathroom closet, throwing things on the floor behind me like a cartoon, searching.
Finally, I pulled out the rolls of ace bandages from when I sprained my elbow and shoulder playing softball. I wrapped them tightly around my chest, smiling as I saw how flat I looked from the side. It was uncomfortable, but I looked like a boy from the neck to my hips so it was worth it. I put my dad's more masculine clothes on, tying my hip length hair up into a beanie. I looked in my full length mirror, smiling at the boy I saw.
