Sigh.
There’s me, and then there’s her. Unfortunately, it is impossible for us to coexist peacefully.
It's hard living two lives. You have to try and remember how to be two different people. You have to retain the characteristics of both, and not let it slide even a little bit, or people will notice. I can be free at college, but when I pull up in the driveway at home, it's time to put on the usual facade. Shit gets exhausting, both mentally and physically. There’s nothing to explain about being at college, because it’s all normal to me. I’m who I want to be, I’m who I was born to be. I don’t get treated maliciously, at least not nearly as much as when I’m in my town. It’s when I get home that it gets complicated.
I have to make sure I pack all my fancy-knit sweaters, my makeup, and my jewelry before I drive home. I have to dress myself up that day so everyone will swoon for me and be happy to see me. I feel strange when I have to do this. The clothes are so form-fitting. They highlight my large breasts and my hips- something I try to hide. My face feels horribly heavy with all the makeup- I literally wear a mask. I have nothing wrong with jewelry, but when I dress in a manner that will make everyone happy, I cringe in the mirror. Quite honestly, I feel like I’m in drag, only it’s not fun for me. It’s a chore- an exhausting chore.
We always go out to eat when I’m home, and they tell me to ‘dress nice’. If I wore my crisp dress shirts and nice pants, I’d be told that it looked sloppy and that I would need to have respect for myself. Mom would get angry, saying that she bought all these nice clothes for me and that I don’t even want to show off my hourglass figure. Apparently I “waste my good looks”. She’d threaten to throw the shirts away. She would start yelling at me, saying I take no pride in myself and that I’m a slob. But then my younger brother would walk out of his room in jeans and a beat up shirt, along with a dingy black hoodie, and he would get no flak. I dress nicer than him, yet I get thrown into the metaphorical garbage disposal.
This has happened on more than one occasion.
I’ve been going by a shortened version of my middle name, just to get used to being called something more masculine before I actually change my name to Isaac. I’ve been going by my birth name for 16 years, and it takes some getting used to. I’ve always liked the ring of “Isaac Alexander”. It sounds nice. In fact, Isaac means “he laughs” in Hebrew. I chose Isaac because it’s been a long time since I’ve been happy. Hiding myself from the world and trying to shove my self down into a box for years has played a huge part in that. Life has gotten better since I’ve started gradually coming out, and I know that once I fully embrace myself, I will be happier. I will have obstacles to face, naturally. But I will be happy; I will laugh again.
Unfortunately it’s 2 years later, and my parents are refusing to even call me Kris. I don’t know how I’ll even get them to call me Isaac. And I know things like this take time, but I just wish it’d be easier. I’m sick of hearing “she”, “her” and my birth name. I hate being placed in an all-girls dorm. I suppose it’s okay when I think about it, because if I was placed in an all-boys dorm, I’d feel horribly emasculated. They are the general image I want, that I cannot have right now. I can’t have a flat chest- I’m stuck with large breasts that don’t even properly work with my binder. They’re big enough that they still move slightly, and it kills my confidence. I have an hourglass figure, which, since working out, has disappeared a bit….but it’s still there. My face is feminine as hell, my voice is pain-stakingly high, and I can’t even grow facial hair. I have to be tormented each month with periods, and I can’t even afford to fix these things. Even if I could, I can’t. Last time I tried to come out, I was threatened with pills and a visit to the psych ward at the local hospital.
This has also happened on more than one occasion. In fact, my parents once forced me to retract my statement on coming out because they could not afford to send me to the local hospital if I was.
If there are any achievements of being a male in an all-girls dorm, I’m the first: male member to be on a girl’s Hall Council, male floor representative in the council, and maybe even the first male RA of a girl’s dorm. So I guess that counts for something.
I also hate the stares that I get, from my family and strangers. I wear tank tops when I work out, which my mother has been a bit aloof about. She says I need to exercise in more conventional ways, like dancing and biking, not weight lifting, boxing, etc. Anyways, I was getting something from the top of the fridge when she noticed I had not shaved my underarms in some time. She made remarks about my cleanliness, saying I need to not be so gross. She tells me all the time that I need to pluck my eyebrows. I’ve had strangers make remarks about the fact that I don’t shave my legs or wax my eyebrows. Personally, I find it all a huge hassle to keep up with and it’s personal preference. It doesn’t make me dirty...wouldn’t other men be gross if because most generally do not shave their legs or underarms????
Idk man.
