Everyone has their own uncle Ben. What do I mean by this? I mean a guiding figure in their life, dead or a live, related or not. For me, my uncle Ben has always been my mother. Ever since I was a kid I was always attached more to my mom than my dad. I would always stay by her side, ask her questions and play with her. Most of my earliest memories are with her. Some notable ones relating to this journal are as follows.
When I was little id always watch my mom put on nail polish. I was intrigued and interested, and one day I asked her if she could paint my nails. She did, and my nails turned bright red, almost cherry like. Id take my mothers heels and grandmothers purse and prance around the house, acting as feminine as possible. This was seen as just something I enjoyed by my mother, but my father hated it. He told my mom to stop painting my nails, but sometimes she still would, until the next time my dad caught me.
I was at pre-school. End of the year, I think, as it was hot outside. My mom was standing by my teacher, and I was playing with the kids on the playground. I walked up to my mom and asked: "Mommy, why can't I be a girl?" I don't remember much except silence.
YOU ARE READING
Once a Lemon Boy
Non-FictionTo be honest, this is mainly a vent journal. Let me open up my life to you. Living through childhood as someone who is trans can be rough, and i'm just here to document my experience. Male to Female
