Prodigal

~2.5~

I could tell that Sarah didn’t really know what to say. “You want to be a girl?” She asked.

“I am one.” I said, quietly, every word difficult to choke out.

“Have you told anyone?”

“No one. I can’t. Please don’t tell anyone!”

“I won’t.” Sarah said. “But I’ll tell you what I will do.”

That night, Sarah spent all night teaching me makeup tips and how to do makeup. Over the next week or so, we would go shopping, I would pick out female outfits I liked, she would be the one to make the point of sale purchase, but I would pay for them/take them. She would also be the one to get me makeup and a wig. She was so overwhelmingly supportive; I couldn’t have asked for a better person to have in my life.

Just like Caitlyn Jenner had said in her ABC interview 17 years earlier, she called the girl she knew she was “her.” That’s what I did.

I would never let her out in public. I would only let her out when I was home alone or alone with Sarah. I kept all the clothes, makeup and wigs in a box hidden in the corner of my room behind a dresser.

Sometimes when Dad wasn’t around, I would style the wig on the mannequin head I had, do my makeup, put on a cute outfit, and just look at myself in the mirror. I just kept looking, in disbelief that this is what I looked like.

Apparently male puberty still hadn’t hit me hard, because I was still fairly short and still had a very small body frame. Not that I was complaining, I didn’t want a masculine body frame.

I felt like I looked like a lowkey drag queen, which was not the look I was going for, but I looked more like myself than I ever had. I felt more comfortable in my own skin that I ever had.

It confirmed what I had been thinking for so long. I am a girl. I am transgender.

This meant I had a serious fight ahead of me for the rest of my life. So much of the world, even my world, wouldn’t be able to understand or accept this. How would I tell anyone? When would I tell anyone? I didn’t want to live the rest of my life pretending to be someone I’m not, only to be the real me for a few hours locked in my room.

I would always take off the clothes and wig and get in the shower to wash off the makeup very quickly, and I would always do it with plenty of time before my dad would get home.

I was living a lie, but for the first time, I was living the truth.

Notes

Not to be conceited but I love that line:
"I was living a lie, but for the first time, I was living the truth."