APH America One Shots

It's My Body

TW: Body dysmorphia, transphobia, and unsafe binder usage.

Amelia stood in front of the mirror in her room, tugging a little too roughly on her shoulder-length blonde hair and eyeing the scissors on her nightstand, wanting nothing more than to take them and chop off the dreaded curls. Her corset fit too snugly on her, her blooming breasts that she had grown to hate now sickeningly noticeable. She frowned as a pit formed in her stomach, a wiggling and pitiful ball of anxiety. A familiar feeling of discomfort, a feeling she knew all too well. It had been worse lately, every little detail made her want to scream: her hair, her clothes, even her name. All these things made her feel sick. So sick. Gagging and puking into the toilet for half an hour kind of sick.

How she longed for the days when she could at least pretend she wasn't in her own body, wearing trousers and button-downed shirts and no body parts to distinguish her from the other boys, getting to be who she knew she wanted to be. But she was a young lady now. She was now nothing but dresses, perfumes, and everything that made her even more feminine so she could be courted away by some wealthy man, even though she held more power over them than they'll ever know. But she was a girl, and she must learn to act like one.

When she tried to voice her true feelings as a child to her nannies and the other prestigious women, she was continuously surrounded with, she was met with laughs and pats on the head. Now she was met with disgusted stares and sharp pinches, hearing whispers down the halls and behind their decorative fans. She was even brought in front of the local pastor, forced to kneel in front of the altar and confess her sins, asking for forgiveness for daring to doubt the why God made her who she was. She was a girl and a girl she would always be.

She glared at her reflection, taunting her, making sure she knew she would always be trapped. Without a moment of hesitation, Amelia pulled back her fist, smashing the mirror into bits and pieces on the ground, blood stains spoiling her accursed dress. She grabbed the scissors and pulled at strands of hair, snipping and snipping, curls falling unceremoniously on the ground, until her was only to her ears, uneven and absolutely horrible. And she laughed. Even when the ladies came to see what the ruckus was, exploding at her and calling her horrible names, she laughed. She laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

It was one of those bright sunny days that were perfect for being outside, running around and playing tag and other games as children do. Amelia and Matthew sat side by side making flower crowns as they always did when they were together. Matthew always taking all the daisies saying with certainty and authority that they looked the best on Kumajiro who was victim to the children's creations. Amelia agreed with this childish logic, happily giving her brother the flowers. And so, it went on for years, both siblings enjoying each other's company even if was just in comfortable silence. Until Matthew asked that dreaded question.

"Millie, why do you still dress like me and the other boys? Auntie said it's in bad taste." There were no accusations behind it, just genuine curiosity. But still it felt like a punch to the gut for Amelia. This was something she was forbidden to talk about, something she was scared to even think about else she be punished. But this was Mattie, her sweet older brother, who always listened to her and never judged. If she could trust anyone it would be him, so she jumped headfirst into the explanation.

"It's because... I don't feel comfortable in this body. Like, this isn't who I'm supposed to be, you know. I see you and the other boys and can't help thinking how I want to be like you. It's not just a phase like the ladies say, I know what I want and who I want to be. But I can't because it's not right. I'm broken Mattie, and I don't know how to fix it."

She watched Matthew warily, dreading his reaction. Matthew tilted his head in consideration, eyebrows scrunched in thought. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke. "So, you... want to be a boy, even though you're a girl," he said slowly, watching his sister carefully with that calculated stare of his that always made Amelia uneasy.