It Was The Little Things

   In hindsight looking back throughout my life it was the little things. The little signs that I was not like other boys. From certain behaviors that were stamped out of me. To even who I wanted to play with and what particular toy I wanted to entertain me while I did. I remember these things starting at a very young age.
    My first memories ever are around three perhaps four years old, and some of those memories associated with that time make it clear I was different. I remember speaking things around that time. Adopting certain words that seemed right to me to my own clothing. For the other word just didn't fit right in my head. I remember being told that my underwear was not panties and that only girls wear panties and that I was a boy. I know confusion reigned for that didn't feel right to me nor did it sit well. I knew the difference and I knew something was wrong but what? I also called my pajamas jamies and I preferred long shirts to wear if I could get away with it. I was comfortable that way. Time progressed and I got older.
    I had the usual toys any boy would have in his room. Hotwheels and action figures a few stuffed animals here and there. I was about five perhaps six. My favorite cartoon at the time was HE-MAN! I use to run around the house and yard shirtless with a plastic yellow wiffleball bat yelling I HAVE THE POWER! I am sure My Grandmother and Mother were not only amused but relieved. However the only action figures I ever received were the men from the cartoon. I never got Evil Lyn or any of the others, and oh I wanted them. What was more was He-Man had a twin sister SHE-RA! She was secretly my favorite. I really wanted her action figure and her flying horse!
   At that same age I hung out with many girls. The tragic cooties epidemic of the eighties hadn't hit yet. Little girls of course had BARBIES! When I played Barbies with them a Ken doll was always shoved in my direction. I had to say each and every time no I wanted a Barbie doll. I was asked why of course. My excuse, they had actual hair, and so many styles of clothing to switch out and dress up in. As I got older I suppose that got weirder and we all found other things to do. When the girls did play Barbies after that it was in another room and us boys came up with our own amusements.
   Back to clothing I remember throwing fits at having to wear ties. Frankly I never did like the whole white shirt thing. I was totally uncomfortable. I would remember seeing the girls, young women, and older women wearing skirts, dresses, blouses, and how free they seemed to move in them. All the men would stand like they were constipated or about to asphyxiate. I remember thinking I hope that I don't grow up like that. Perhaps that is where I began to perceived that suits are my prison. Specially as I did grow up like that and was forced to wear them.
   A few years later I was about eleven maybe twelve and living in Washington State. Puberty had hit and I was not really liking it. Oh I tried to show a bit of enthusiasm for the peach fuzz I was going to be able to shave. After all the other guys at school talked about growing beards and mustaches. Everyone wanted a goatee. I really wasn't that thrilled. I wanted to remain smooth skinned as I had been. I liked it.
  It was during this time I had a strange but vivid dream. What really stuck out at me was in this dream my foster sister stuck me into a dress. Thing was I wasn't embarrassed, it was me. She tried to make fun of me in the dream but I remember leaving the scene in the dress comfortable and fine as can be. It was this dream that had probably one of the biggest impacts on me.
  I took more notice of how I was changing versus the girls at school. It was all wrong. I felt a barrier go up in my head. I couldn't talk about this I didn't even know what it was. I just knew I was different somehow.
  It was a year maybe two later that I found the word Transgender. I also found the AOL Transgender Community. I was able to get a little information at that time. However this was the nineties and everything seemed so far out of reach and impossible for a young LDS boy to achieve one day.
   Its been many years later since then. I am little over a year into my Hormone Replacement Therapy. I am finally arriving at home in my own skin. I am becoming Visibly Me Maxine Marie.