My Super, Wonderful, Extra Special Day

Before The Day

So, when she looked at me with that face, I knew it was all about to come out and that it would be so much better for me if I did it and not her.

I had to say something, so I replied, "Well, mom. . . as a. . .um, as. . .I. . .its just. . ." Unable to get a coherent thought out, I paused to take a breath, calm my nerves, and allow my heart to slide back out of my throat and down where it belonged behind the bra and breast forms I was currently wearing.

Sensing the sheer terrifying nervous discomfort I was experiencing, my sister stepped over next to me and placed her hand on the small of my back in a show of support towards me. Little did she know just how much I needed that right then.

Swallowing rather heavily, I tried again,"Mom, well, I'm . . ."

"What is it, son?" My mom asked, trying to get me to spit out what I was stumbling to say.

"Well mom, as a matter of fact, no, I don't like it 'too much,' as you put it. I, ah. . .I--"

My sister moved her hand higher up on my back and I could now feel her finger tracing the outline of the bra, her bra, that I was now wearing. That, was so not helping at all.

I twisted my shoulders, in an attempt to signal to her that I wanted her to stop but she kept doing it as I attempted to continue.

"Mom, what I'm trying to say is, um, I don't like it too much, I like it just right and whether you've suspected it or not there's more to it than I've ever said."

Mom stood there in awkward silence.

Finally she spoke,"So, what are you saying?"

"Well, mom, I actually do want to be a girl. For real, a real girl, mom. I have always felt like I was supposed to be a girl."

Once I started spilling my guts I became afraid of what she was going to say, so I kept talking. "

You yourself have pointed out in the past how I've always appeared to be awkward and uncomfortable in my own skin. How many times have you said to me or commented to one of your friends that I'm not a very masculine boy? I know you've told friends of yours before that I would have been better off if I'd been born a girl. Don't deny it, Cheryl has heard you say it. Is that what you wish? That you'd never had a son? Well, congratulations, you got your wish. When I'm dressed like this is the only time I feel right. Only when I'm presenting as a girl."

I took a deep breath and realized my sister had begun to brush my hair.

Mom took the opportunity to get a word in.

"Son, if you feel like this is what you be to do to please me, nothing could be farther from the truth. Yes, I've made observations about how you aren't very manly acting and don't have any interest in real manly things, but that doesn't mean I never wanted a son. You were born a boy and that's what you are."

Feeling my nerves start to calm a little, thanks to me sister. I gained a little confidence and decided I might as well lay it all out there, so I continued.

"No, it's not your fault, you were just seeing the truth. I have wanted to be a girl for as long as I can remember... No, no, wait. . . That's not right. What I should say is, I don't 'want' to become a girl, mom, I 'am' a girl. I think like a girl, I feel like a girl. I hate having to live as a boy. I totally despise having this thing between my legs, especially in the mornings waking up with 'morning wood'. I've always felt like I was born a girl with a hideous birth defect. I've always wanted so desperately, to wake up one morning and find breast on my chest, this growth gone, and myself being treated like the beautiful girl I really am inside. I always have. . . I always have."