The End of an Old Life and Start of a New

by

Paul G. Jutras

 

Scott finished slipping into his pink silk pajamas and climbed under his bed covers. As he picked up his latest copy of Harry Potter, he opened it and watched as a letter fell to his lap. He had been using it for a book mark and almost forgot about it. It was a letter that had changed his life for ever. As he looked at the letter, he re-read it to himself.

By the time you read this, I might be dead. Please understand that such a choice isn't entered into lightly and without just consideration. Hopefully it won't come to the worst, but after reading this I open you'll understand how I feel. Ever since I was six, I knew in my heart and soul that I should have been born a girl. It was then that I started to secretly wear female underwear to school under my normal clothes. When I was home, I used my Fisher Price shopping cart to pretend I was a mother shopping for my family or use my star wars figures in place of my female friends Barbie and Ken dolls for pretend weddings and such.

My mother; being the catholic school teacher that she was, first learned at my feeling near my eighth birthday when I asked mom for a purse and white dress with puffy sleeves. She was confused and a bit outraged at the same time when it came to how to treat me. Needless to say, I didn't get either the purse or dress for my birthday. What I did get was a deep disappointing feeling and a wonder if my mother loved me or secretly hated me for who I really was. Dad didn't help any with those feelings. Every time he called me his big guy when I wanted to be his sweet princess or hear him complain about not taking my shirt off at the beach, I wanted to cut my throat open. I could never get dad to understand how going topless didn't feel right to me and I longed to wear a woman's one piece bathing suit rather than a pair of male trunks.

I did not let such feelings stop me from being myself. In games of house I'd left my younger cousin, Philip be the father so I could put a pillow under my shirt and pretend to be the pregnant sister in the family. While I tried to be a good sport in games of backyard football and cops & robbers with my neighborhood friends, I preferred going to see my friend's sisters to play games of dolls or play dress up with cousins Jennifer and Katrina. I had always an envy feeling toward their great outfits. Especially the ones they use to wear to the Thanksgiving and Christmas parties. At least up till my older cousin Kim had her kids. There choice is outfits were a lot better than the ones from mom I use to borrow. How I wish I could have been Kim that Christmas in her red dress, black pumps and enjoying her child growing inside of her.

When I was ten I learned for the first time that sex change operations were possible. It was during that weekend of learning about it that I first had dream of going in having it done. Of course when I'm asleep I'm 100% female in almost every dream. Dreams where I'm swept off my feet while dinning and dancing with some cute guy.

As I got older and dad went into the military, mom still didn't understand me. She would often scream at me if I would borrow her hats, jewelry and such to wear about town in public. It sometimes surprise my hearing is as good as it is today with all the screaming she'd do. At the time I again began to wonder how much she cared for me.

I especially wondered on her love for me when her screaming including stuff like sitting with my legs crossed and telling me only gay men sat like that. When I first started running out into on coming traffic in hopes to get hit by a car. Personally I always hated the sterio-type gay image one got from movies and television. I had no problem being a tom boy like my mom and still consider myself a female at heart. While I continued to wear girls under wear under my clothes to school, I also enjoyed reading Cosmo magazine at the girls table while we talked about which boys in school we thought were cute.

The summer my mother ran her school's cheer leading camp, it was the happiest summer of my life since mom and dad built me a play house for me to have tea parties and such. That summer I got to make pom-poms and come the closest I ever had of living my dream of being a cheer leader. I got to practice the cheers with the girls and pretend I was cheering on those cute foot ball players with a short skirt showing off my adorable legs. Legs which my mom once teased me at age fourteen in front of Uncle Raymond and his family when I cut them shaving.

When I was eighteen years old, I couldn't have been happier. The graduation gown was the closet thing to a dress I had worn in pubic. It was after that which I really confronted mom face to face. Told her straight out that I would rather be a girl than a boy. She went shock as she pondered her feelings about it. Her response was soon to buy me a bunch of books on gay life style and the dangers of getting aids. She even said she talked to a priest at church who was very disapproving of the whole thing. All this resulted in was my filling the sink and sticking my electric razor under water in an attempt to electrocute myself.

When I went off to college I started using to the library computer to try to understand myself better. I learned that there was a difference between being gay and who I was. I always knew that even though I thought guys were cute, my feelings had nothing to do with wanting to sleep with guys. It was about me and how I saw my own body and self.

That I wasn't gay but a transsexual wishing that I was in the girl's dorm instead of the boy's dorm.

It was also around this time that I first told my mother straight out that now that I was out of high school, I'd wear a skirt or dress for special occasions, but I'd kill myself before I got dressed up in a suit and tie again. Something mom argued about on such occasions as when I wanted to wear a dress in Katrina's wedding and once again wish I looked as good as Jennifer and the other bridesmaids at the wedding. Even more jealous of Katrina having a happy married life with a wonderful man. The job I wanted most since I was a kid was to be a loving wife and mother.

If mom wasn't going casual, I'd probably of killed myself right then and there. As I almost choose to cut myself with a straight razor when I was called up for jury duty and mom wanted me to dress up but I ended up dressing down instead. I was constantly feeling like mom was actually telling me she'd prefer to see me committee suicide than to start hormone replacements and electroysis to the face. Especially when the college graduation came and the school was insisting I wear a suit and tie and so was my mom. If it wasn't for the fact I was able to get my certificate in the mail, I would have been dead some time ago. Just glad that I didn't cut myself up with a straight razor a work when the urge came.

Steve put the letter down. He looked at the scars on his arms and sighed. With the lost of his original job and having to start over, he was glad that mailing out the letter to relatives finally convince his parents of how he felt. They let him move back home while he got his life together and start his transition. He got out of bed, walked to a box on the table and set it inside with his other special memories. He always wanted to remember how his life changed for the better and how it almost ended up for the worst.

The end

  

  

  

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