Diary of a Non-Binary

Part Eight

    I'mworking over in my mind how I can ask my parents to start taking testosterone.I'm not sure whether they'll even let me or not. I mean, they should have justseen my facebook post about it, but they might think I'm just crazy again anddismiss the idea completely. At least I'm getting contact lenses in the spring,although they don't realize that it's because I want to look more like a guy.The testosterone should help with that, make my voice deeper, give my face amore masculine look. 

"You really look like a guy right now, no offense." Ayla said, probably meaning it as an insult.

"Thank you, that's what I want to look like." I said right back, suddenly feeling happier than I was before.

    Wearingthree sports bras for binding, a dress shirt, and a tie, I actually saw myselfin the mirror. Non-trans* people might not realize how exciting this can be tosomeone who is trans*. Seeing yourself in the mirror for real is like meeting apen-pal or a long-distance lover for the first time in real life. You kind ofhave an idea of what they look like, but you can never know until you see themfor real, and you find that you could have never imagined how good they lookedin real life. I want to see that friend a lot more often. 

Everyone should know what I am, it's just that no one cares enough to help me when others use the wrong pronouns or just flat out call me a girl. It's disrespectful and they should actually help me if they were good friends, or just understanding people in the least.

Ayla,for some reason, now feels the need to tell me when others call me "she", evenwhen I am also hearing that word, as if I don't already focus on that 24/7anyways.