I knew I was different when I was 4. Oh preschool, what a lifechanging abundance of self discovery you are.
Since the time I punched David Bernstein in the face for calling me a girl, till the day I bawled myself to sleep when I got my first period. Breasts were a problem for me too. They're large! Cumbersome! They move! They serve me no purpose! Every step of puberty was another where I internally fought my very body. So I told myself what I thought I needed to hear. You're just too frumpy. If you were pretty, you'd be happy with how you look. So I dieted. I primped. I combed. I shaved. I waxed. I became the girl of every heterosexual boy's dreams. But it still wasn't right. I couldn't understand why I looked in the mirror and wanted to destroy the very cocoon I had built for myself. Deep down, I wanted to wear cargo shorts, mandals, muscle shirts, swim trunks. But this made no sense to me. I liked boys! I couldn't be a boy. Even the sound of my own name made me cringe. Julia. Naturally, my parents saddled me with a feminine name complete with ribbons and bows.
The word transgendered never meant anything to me. That was for Drag Queens hookers. I never thought it could apply to me. One day, I cracked. I couldn't live with myself anymore. I OD'd on painkillers, and in my darkest of hours in the teen psych ward at the local hospital, I opened up. I cried. I told them every single hateful thought that had ever confused. And my counselor just looked me in the eye and said, sweetie, have you ever wondered if you were a transboy? Gender Identity has nothing to do with your sexual orientation. A transgendered man can be gay. This was a revelation to me. I never thought I could be a gay man. All of my best friends were gay boys. But they weren't just my friends. They were my role models. I had always envied their clothes, their hair, and their boyfriends. I wanted to be them. And I finally understood why.
I am a gay man trapped in a woman's body.
And a year after that fateful revelation, I'm as ok with that as a transman ever is. Because my dreams are still filled with changing my exterior, but now, I have hope. I dream of realities.
I dream of me.