Why am I me?

Chapter 1

'GBF'

(PLEASE READ:

I realise once you've read this you may think it is rushed. It may be in your experience or just how you imagine it. For me however, this is how quickly it clicked in me. All the same, thank you Vexillist on Whisper for bringing this to my attention)

I'll always be a brother and son. Then a husband, uncle, Dad, Grandfather. But I'll never get to be a sister, daughter, wife, aunt, Mum or Grandmother. I knew this, I wasn't stupid.

I was okay with it, for the most part of my life.

Most teenagers are ether excited about this event, or at least the event afterwards in which everyone gets absolutely shit faced. Or they do not give a rats arse about it. 

I was in the middle. 

Sure it's not worth the amount of money put into it by the students (because God knows the School has spent no time or money on it judging by how it'll look) and I strongly dislike the majority of the people in my year anyway but ...

Okay there wasn'treally a reason. Maybe to see everyone look their best, eye candy orsomething?

All I knew was that asmuch as I didn't want to go, I also really couldn't help how much Iwanted to go.

So I stood contemplating just this as I was dragged around shops while the female friends of mine asked my opinion on dresses and made me sit and give an opinion as they tried them on as if I was some stereotypical 'GBF'.

I didn't mind this toomuch since they fed me and well I would be lying if I said I didn'texactly like the look of the fabrics, intricate designs and alluringcolours. 

The thing I did mindwas the music. 

Each shop, every singleone of them, playing some God awful repeat of something kid-friendlyfrom the charts. 

I couldn't even tell ifit was the same song in each store, they all sound the same thesedays.

I found myself silentlywishing for some rock or alternative to play, though that was moreunlikely than one of these girls actually purchasing something.

Suddenly I was pulled from my life contemplating, having a short silver dress with a very low cut that would show a little more than just cleavage pushed to my chest.

"What?" I blinked down at them.

"What?! No Jen" her smile only grew bigger as her eyes moved behind me.

I hadn't realised she'd been edging me slowly to the changing rooms.

"Fine! But no photos" I huffed as I slammed the cubicle door shut and let out a huff.

I turned and put the dress on a hook as I began to remove my clothing, reluctantly.

The dress was softer than I first realised as it fell down onto my thighs and hugged my hips.

I smoothed it down and turned slowly to the mirror.

My heart sunk and I felt a weight on my chest as I stared at myself in the mirror.

I didn't know how to explain what was going through my mind.

It was like the feeling of heartbreak.

Time stopped.

I felt my throat seal up and my eyes close as my hands ran slowly over the fabric covering not nearly enough of my skin.

I felt exposed and dirty. 

And yet I felt comfortable, like the clothes I'd been wearing for the last 16 years of my life, the male clothes I had been wearing, were wrong and ill-fitting. 

I was pulled from my mind with a knocking at the door.

"Hey, no photos but we have to see!" one of the girls shouted through the door.

"Yea hurry up, I need a pee and you're taking forever ... you need help?"Jen giggled through the door.

I took in the largest breath I could, feeling the burn of my overflowing lungs and closing my eyes as I let the breath slowly flowout of my nostrils.

I stretched out my face and unlocked the door with a bashful grin plastered over my face.

"Oh my shit you look better than us in that, right Po?" Jen's hand was twitching towards her pocket as she struggled to contain her giggles.

"Yes, yes he does" Po just nods in approval as her eyes travel from my chest to my shins and back up again. 

I felt my chest sink again and my body tensed for a moment.

She sounded so surprised 

Of course she did, I'm a guy in a dress, of course these two girls would be surprised if myself, a guy, would look better than them in adress. 

A dress, an item of clothing specifically made for females, in which I am not.

I am male.

I am male

I found my brow furrowing at that though for a second before I cast it aside.

"Hey! Don't objectify me!" I shouted in mock offence as I pulled a knee up and pretended to cover myself with my arms.

They both chuckled before Jen pushed me back into the cubicle.

"Get changed! I need a pee" 

I stared at her for a moment as I closed the door. 

My smile dropped from my face once the door was shut and locked.

I found myself closing my eyes again and practically feeling myself up.

"Um, this is harder to get off" I cleared my throat of any emotion other than forced amusement.

"You go ahead to the toilets. Drop a text of the shop you go to next and I'll meet you there" I mentally patted myself on the back for keeping up a steady tone of voice. 

"Ah sure that's good with us. See you in a sec" I heard two pairs of feet padding away, one more hastily than the other before I was left alone to let my mind wonder.

I suddenly felt a tear run down my face and I swallowed a lump slowly growing in my throat.

I opened my eyes and looked at the blur in front of me.

If I kept the blur and hunched slightly while crouching ever so slightly I could trick my mind into thinking this blur was a girl standing infront of me wearing a soft, comfortable yet alluring skimpy silver dress.

If only

My eyes shot open and I hastily began pulling off the dress.

I was a guy so naturally it got stuck.

I felt panic rise in me and I practically tare the dress over my head and throw it to the floor and hunch down onto the bench. 

I close my eyes one last time to focus on slowing down my breathing before putting the dress back on the hanger and getting dressed, ignoring the red friction burns from ripping the dress from my body.