So Catholic

Blooming

First Chapter: Blooming

I've always known that I was different than the other girls my age. I'd rather like to play soccer instead of playing with dolls. I loved to play in the mud with my brothers instead of applying make-up like others in school. In Sex Ed we learned about the human anatomy and how girls have their period from the age of 12 to 55. We also learned about the diversity of sexualities. That day I heard the word for the first time; Transgender. 

I never knew what that word really meant until I looked it up in a dictionary. 
"The phenomen that the psychological gender doesn't match the physical gender - being born in the wrong body."
As I read the words over and over again I realized that this describes exactly how I felt.

I stood up and went to my body mirror. I studied my face; it was round with dark colored eyes - almost black -, a petite nose and full pink lips. I traced my fingertips over my lips, my neck, my collarbone and at last over my breasts. I halted and looked down; I never loved them. They've always been a nuisance for me, so big and round, wobbling all over the place. I smiled bitterly, revealing my silver shining braces. I looked at my alarm clock, it read 5 in the morning. 

Plenty of time to prepare, I smiled and went to the bathroom. Today was Thursday so class wouldn't start until 7. After I finished showering I got dressed and went downstairs into the kitchen. My father sipped on his coffee, flipping through the newspaper. He looked up when he heard me coming down the stairs but went back to reading.

Yeah, the news are more interesting than me. I shook my head and sighed. Grabbing a carton of milk out of the fridge I poured me a glass and leaned against the kitchen counter. I never ate in the morning, a glass of milk was enough. The kitchen was silent, the only sound that was heard was the folding of my father's newspaper. I looked out the window; Summer will start soon and so will summer vacation. I smiled at that thought. A few moments later my mother joined us in the kitchen. She looked at me with the glass of milk in my hand, "no breakfast again?" I shook my head, "not hungry".

My father stood up and kissed my mother on the cheek before grabbing his jacket and keys and heading out the door. He always ignored me. My mother looked at me sympathetic but didn't stayed silent. She always does. But it hasn't always been this way. A year ago everything was fine between us. Until the day I told my father that I was transgender. He slapped me and told me that I should get rid of this nonsense idea. My mother tried to understand me but she couldn't. She told me it was just a phase and that I'd get over it soon. I believed so too at first but I never changed. Since that day my father wouldn't acknowledge me anymore. It was like I was a ghost, comepletely non existent. 

That day I lost my father.

I grabbed my book sack and went to my mother's car. I opened the passenger door slid in. After a few minutes my mother sat down in the driver's seat and drove me off to school. The ride was silent, my mother was too focused on driving and I was looking out the window, not wanting to have a conversation. The sun was now over the horizon, the light hit my eyes. I closed them shut while enjoying the upcoming warmth of the day. Hopefully it'll be a good day, I thought but every day in school was miserable. Me, being transgender or different in general wasn't accepted in our school; at least not by the students. I got judged, ignored or worse - bullied and harassed.

"We're here," my mother's voice startled me. I unbluckled my seat belt and climbed out of the car. I grabbed my booksack and headed to the double doors of my school. As soon as I entered, people started looking at me with small glances while others shot me disgusted faces. I gulped. Only a few more weeks. I headed to my locker and read some sticky notes that were hanging on it: "Die faggot" "Hope you end up in hell" "Leave or die" "Spread your faggot germs somewhere else!"