I took one last glance at myself in the reflection of the dark shop window before I walked into the coffee shop to meet my date. My clothes were figure hugging but not too tight, a dress with denim jacket combo, paired with a patterned cotton scarf loosely placed round my neck carefully matched with my red coloured Converse. My wavy dark hair didn't look too messy and I hoped my mascara and eyeliner had not smudged too much, I didn't want to inspect myself too closely or I'd start to criticise and doubt myself again.
I may sound very vain, but my appearance is very important to me, not just to have other people's approval, but much more importantly. So I can feel like me as this wasn't always the case.
I was born 19 years ago into an unremarkable family. I have a mother a father a big sister, two years older than me. We live in an average four bedroomed house, in one of those new estates with houses that are all the same New England style, built the same time but with all slightly layouts and colours, all share tidy front gardens, driveways and back gardens with patios. I guess you'd call it the suburbs.
My family works hard so we can be comfortable, have great holidays together, go to good school, drive nice cars, have the latest cell phones and fashionable clothes. All very "nice" I'm sure you say, but I wasn't happy. It took me a long time to work out why.
My birth was announced to the world as;
Adam, a boy.
Weighing 5.6lb
A son to Robert and Catherine, and brother to Grace.
Mother and baby are both well.
But they were wrong, and it took me a while to work it out,
I'm not a boy, I'm a girl. A girl with the wrong body.
YOU ARE READING
Becoming April
Short StoryApril is going on her first ever date. It's been a long journey to get comfortable enough with herself to be able to take this step. Born Adam, she has struggled to get her family and friends to understand. I am updating this as I write.
