The day I decided a new name for myself I had been dating Bea for a couple of months already. She was the one who brought it up. Carl wasnāt exactly a fitting name for a woman (sorry to all the female Carls out there).
It never really occurred to me to change my name before. But also Iām sort of slow on things like that, it took me until I was 20 to realize I was trans, and that maybe me pretending I was Sailor Moon as a kid wasnāt exactly the most normal boy experience. I thought it was too late for me to transition since most people figure this type of shit out when they're 14 and have their whole life ahead of them.
Changing my name was difficult, I got used to being called Carl. I knew I wanted something that was as close to it as possible, I donāt think I could ever really accept having a whole new name. Bea had brought up weird ones like Francesca, Penelope, and Elizabeth. I didnāt really understand her obsession with naming things that sounded like some royal would have.
Ultimately her choices were shot down ā it was my name after all. But apparently Iām not really good at the whole naming thing either since my list consisted of Carla, Carly, and Carley (the last one was crossed out because it looked stupid and was just the same thing as Carly). None of them I really liked.
They werenāt bad names but they all sounded too childlike for my taste. To me Carla sounded like she was some 13 year old obsessed with boy bands, and Carly reminded me too much of the girl from iCarly. Even Bea shook her head at my options.
I needed to really visualize the name, like if I was some random person who saw my name and who I would expect to walk through the door vs. the person they would see, being me. Bea didnāt really understand my explanation or thought process when I told her this. But she still continued to help.
She tried again this time with Catherine, Casandra, and Caroline. Again with the whole royal names, but at least this time they were closer to Carl. I crossed off the first two, Iām not some medieval princess being married off to some guy with a million wives.
I paused at Caroline, a little long for my taste. Also it had the problem of looking childish for me too. But that first part is what intrigued me; Carol.
Carol sounded like some 43 year old woman whose family was a little too obsessed with Christmas when naming her. She probably had a husband ā Dale or something like that ā and lived in a white suburban neighborhood. She ran her HOA like the navy, and had the 2.5 kids dream with a golden retriever she didnāt initially want but now loves to death.
Carolās only worries in life were her neighbor putting up bright Christmas lights that werenāt up to code and her kids coming back home after college was over. One of them probably ended up being gay and at first she was appalled, but now probably had those cringy pride shirts that said something like āProud parent of her gay son/daughter.ā
She was a good mom, and loved her kids so much. Dale was one of those tough love dads who would draw the line at breaking his kids' possessions or locking them in the basement with only Frogger for entertainment or just deciding one day to leave everything behind.
I was so wrapped up in my Carol story I didnāt notice when my eyes began feeling itchy. Starting estrogen was weird, I felt more emotional than ever and almost had a heart attack when my junk started shrinking. Itās not like I didnāt know these things would happen, I was googling almost anything I could think of before starting HRT. It was just strange to actually experience it.
āSo do you like any of them or should we start over? Iām pretty sure the internet has some ideas. I still like Francesca though personally,ā Bea was saying as she leaned onto my shoulder. She smelled like really strong, expensive perfume.
āI think I like Carol,ā I said, staring at the name Caroline that had been drawn in Beaās looping cursive on the whiteboard. She had the type of handwriting that the girls with color coded notes would kill each other battle royal style to have.
āCaroline?ā Bea asked, pointing down to the last name on the small list.
āHm, Carol,ā She said, testing out the name. āWell, it isnāt the worst option.ā
And when the man at the DMV looked up at me and called out my name the first thing he said was, āYouāre really tall for a lady, Carol.ā
The Carol in my mind had disappeared, closing her white door with a shaggy brown welcome mat behind her. She went on to live out her life.
Carol was now a 27 year old woman that was 6ā3 and towered over most people in any room she walked in. She had at max two pairs of pants and the rest of her closet was filled with long skirts that went down to her ankles because she didnāt like the way her legs looked. Most of her clothes were too big for her making her look almost shapeless.
Carol was someone with few friends, being the only ones that stuck around after she transitioned. She played CoD with them and then got self conscious about the games she played that were mainly targeted towards men, so she downloaded some Chinese dress-up mobile game with the worst English translation ever on a whim and took it very seriously. (I never really get past top 30% on the competition feature, I blame all the pay-to-wins.)
Carol was a woman that got cheated on by her girlfriend that went on vacation. She took the cat, Donut, and didnāt look back.
Carol was a woman with bad luck as she entered an alien game show with nothing but her baggy leather jacket and girl boxers, and a squirming cat in her arms.
I was someone who could not be broken no matter how much people try.
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