I Wear Boys Underwear

Chapter One: That is my Name

Dedicated to my wonderfully amazing Editor! Who not only re-reads my story and fixes my mistakes, but is one of the coolest kids I have had the pleasure of making aquaintences with! You rock Girly.

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                                                     Chapter One:

                                                   That is my Name

                                  “Four letter word just to get me along,

                            It's a difficulty and I'm biting on my tongue and I

                                   I keep stalling, keeping me together

                           People around gotta find something to say now.”

                              -That’s Not My Name- The Ting Tings

          "Austin Rodriguez intercepts the football! Did you see the vertical of that jump? Incredible height from the 5’4 beast in cleats! Turning back Austin goes for the goal line! Rodriguez just feigned the MacArthur defense as she gets closer to another touchdown. 40 yards to the goal line, now 30, 20, only 10 yards to go, TOUCHDOWN! Speedy Rodriguez for the 4th consecutive touchdown! Madison wins the championship three years running!"  

          Austin Rodriguez; Speedy Rodriguez. That’s what they call me.     

         I’m like Texas, you don’t mess with me. I am a 5’4 fire-cracker. I am your worst nightmare come to life! I am a beast in my orange and navy jersey. I am the big 2-8. I am so hot a fire extinguisher couldn’t put me out! I am the epitome of awesome! I’m the one and only. God of freaking Gods! I am the man.         

          Well okay, technically speaking I am not ‘the man’; I am more like ‘the woman’. I know a bit strange isn’t it? What parents, in their right mind, name their only daughter Austin? Not only is it the capitol of the great state of Texas, where cattle roam on the country side and Mexican vendors sell fresh fruit to the locals in the great city of San Antonio, but it’s a guy’s name. A name meant for the male species. A boy’s name. What kind of parents would put their daughter through the torture of having a dude’s name? That’s like naming your only son Sue and then dressing him up in pink for half his life; it’s suicidal (not physically, just socially).      

          Alright, okay, in their defense, my mom thought she was popping out a baby boy, not a girl, when she was about thirty pounds heavier. So being the all too ready mother she was, and still is, she had already personalized the nursery to fit the needs of a baby boy and a majority of the baby crap they bought with the name ‘Austin’. And how was she supposed to know that my dad, the stubborn hard headed man he was, wouldn’t allow her to simply change the décor and send the personalized stuff to goodwill so that I could have a proper girl’s name? She sure didn’t.  

          But then again, at the time my mother really wasn’t going to fight too much on something so trivial with my father.

          You see, around the time that I was born, and they figured out that I was most certainly not a boy; he was diagnosed with stage one testicular cancer. By the time that I had turned ten, the disease took its toll and he had passed away after a long fought battle to stay with us. But before he did, he spent every waking moment making my childhood one to remember.