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People had always referred to me as the “tomboy”. I had short hair, wore boys clothes, and wasn’t into the stereotypical “girly” things that someone of my sex is apparently supposed to be into.
But I wasn’t a tomboy…I was a boy. Unfortunately, my body wasn’t.
I stared in the mirror and cried. These breasts aren’t supposed to be there. My face isn’t supposed to be so feminine. My voice isn’t supposed to be that high. I grabbed my chest with my hands and dug my nails into my skin, wanting these lumps of tissue to disappear. I wanted a strong jaw line, facial hair, a low voice… but I didn’t have any of those. I sat on the floor and put my face in my hands.
Dad and Sam had no idea. They didn’t know I was a boy. I was dad’s “little princess”. Those words made me sick. I wanted out of this body.
I ran to the bathroom and grabbed the ace bandages that were shoved into the messy first aid kit that had been used one too many times by Dad and my uncle. They were always getting scraped up on hunts. I made a mental note to put the ace bandages away before they got home.
I went back into my room and took off my shirt. I stared at my topless body in the mirror and more tears rose to my eyes. I looked away. I couldn’t stand seeing myself naked; just another reminder that I wasn’t who I was supposed to be. I began wrapping the bandage around my chest, pulling tighter and tighter. My chest grew flatter with each pull. I pinned the bandage into place and stared at my reflection. I turned to the side and saw my chest still wasn’t flat. Sure, it wasn’t as large as before, but I could still see a slight raise where my breasts were. I started to cry again.
I hate my body. I hate it.
“Hey, we’re home,” Dad said, opening the door to my room. I froze. Dad and Uncle Sam saw me standing with no shirt on, bandages across my chest, and tears streaming down my face.
“Honey, are you okay? Are you hurt?” Dad asked, concerned.
“Get out!” I screamed, covering myself with my arms. Dad quickly shut the door and I heard him and Sam’s footsteps rush down the hall, voices murmuring.
Fuck. Oh, fuck. No no no no…
I stood there, beginning to panic.
They’ll think I’m a freak. They’ll think something’s wrong with me.
After a moment, I put my shirt back on over the ace bandages. There was no hiding the truth from them anymore. I reluctantly opened my bedroom door and walked down the hallway toward them.
Sam and Dad were sat at the kitchen table deep in conversation. They stopped when they saw me slowly approaching from the hallway. I pulled a chair out from the table and sat. I didn’t make eye contact.
“What’s going on?” Dad asked. I stayed quiet, still trying to gain the courage to tell him what was going on.
“Is everything okay?” Sam asked. I inhaled a deep breath.
“I’m not hurt. I’m okay. I just…” I froze, swallowed hard, then continued: “I don’t…I don’t feel like a girl.”
“Well, you always have been a tomboy,” Dad responded.
“No,” I interrupted, “I’m not just a “tomboy”, I-I’m a boy.”
The brothers sat quiet and exchanged glances with each other. I was embarrassed and scared. I didn’t know how they were going to react.
“What do you mean?” Dad finally asked.
“I know I don’t have the body of the boy, but I am one,” I said, trying to hold back tears, “I just am.”
“Is that why you had bandages across your chest?” Sam asked, “To…you know…”
“Yeah,” I replied. Sam's eyebrows rose slightly, but it wasn’t condescending; it was like he understood. We sat in silence again as more anxiety filled my core. Dad put his hand on my shoulder.
“Well, if you say you’re a guy, then you’re a guy,” he said, a small smile forming across his lips.
“You’re…not weirded out? You don’t think I’m a freak?” I asked, voice shaking.
“Of course not,” Dad reassured, “we’d never think that.”
We sat in silence for a few moments. I couldn’t believe they were okay with it so quickly. I didn’t know what reaction to expect from the both of them. I mean, I knew they were accepting people, but…I don’t know. I was so used to people making fun of me when they thought I was a ‘tomboy’, I guess I was expecting something similar.
“The bandages…” Sam asked, breaking the silence, “is there a…safer way to do that? That’s gotta be uncomfortable.”
The bandages cut into my sides, and it was a bit difficult to breathe, but I had been so used to it by now that I never really considered an alternative.
“You can get binders. They’re meant for this kinda thing. And they’re safe,” I answered, still a little embarrassed that they saw me with the bandage wrapped so tightly.
“Alright, that’ll be the next thing on our list,” Sam announced.
I smiled. A sense of relief filled my whole body. All this time, I was so scared that they’d hate me; that they’d think I was a freak. Knowing that wasn’t true, I could finally breathe easy.
Dad and Sam still had a lot of questions, so I grabbed my laptop from my bedroom and showed them the different websites I’d found with information on the whole process. I sat in silence while they read. My mind started to race. What if they read something they didn’t like? What if they were just pretending to support me? I nervously cracked my knuckles as those anxious thoughts flew through my brain.
But I had nothing to worry about. After Dad and Sam read through the articles, they smiled like everything had fallen into place; like everything they knew about me finally made sense. Dad shut my laptop and leaned forward.
“C’mon, we’re leaving,” Dad said, breaking the silence.
“W-What? Where are we going?” I asked, surprised.
“No son of mine is gonna walk around in those clothes. My kid’s gotta look badass,” Dad announced, a smile on his face.
Son. He called me son.
I swallowed back some happy tears and let out a small laugh. Maybe things were going to be okay after all.