#i want to CRY i was so excited to try and start HRT soon i can’t do that like this and i still owe my parents like 30k for undergrad and

[transmechanicus]

Sometimes it’s very important to go to bed at 8pm

[frain-breeze]

Hey guys, some updates. (And face reveal lol)

My name is Hayden. I’m 20yo and I have just recently come out as a trans male. (Pre T). I’ve still got lots of figuring out to do when it comes to medical and legal transitioning, but so far I’m in the process of socially transitioning. I’ve come out to close friends, old coworkers, and all my social media. I’ve quit my job and am in the process of looking for a new one. I will be applying as male. Here are some photos and videos to document my progress so far. It breaks my heart that anybody in this world views me as something I’m not. I have always been a boy, I always will be. For my own health sake, and life, I can’t keep suppressing my identity. I am not happy in a female body and I refuse to settle for anything less than who I am. I’m very thankful for the support I’ve received so far. Unfortunately I don’t have many trans friends, and my family is not supportive. Being a legal adult, I’m free to go through transitioning without their permission or approval. But it’s hard when you have no idea what you’re really doing or where to start. Ahhh... anyway, here we go!

March 28, 2021

I finally buy my own binder from GC2B, a half tank Black binder in the size 3X. I was worried it wouldn’t fit because I am a bigger guy and couldn’t find a way to measure myself so I took an educated guess based off bra size. Honestly? Even after working for 6-7 months, the reason I held off buying one for sooo long was because the size chart stressed me out. I don’t have measuring tape and I was just anxious lol. Eventually after purchasing it, I got impatient and did something that’s strongly advised against. Please don’t ever do this, it’s harmful to yourself and your body. But I bought ace bandaging. I only wore it one time (no longer than 30mins), never left the house with it, took a picture and took it off never to put it back on. But I just wanted to feel flat for once. My dysphoria was hurting me mentally and I needed that reassurance. But it’s still wrong to do, don’t use bandages guys. Here’s the picture I took.

April 8, 2021.

Definitely not the most flat, but it was a major improvement compared to my natural chest. Plus I felt confident in my new “Over My Dad Body” shirt. I took the bandages off, threw them on the floor of my bedroom and laid down on my bed for hours. Just thinking. Feeling. Hurting. My chest hurts me, it’s mental torture. Little did I know that the very next day...

April 9, 2021.

I was getting ready to leave the house, when I heard my text tone go off. I signed up for FedEx update texts, so I didn’t think much of it as I went to read the text. But it said my package was in my mailbox, and I snatched it sooo fast and ran to the bathroom. Without thinking about it, I tore the package open and wiggled my way into the binder. I couldn’t wait another second. I was amazed with it on its own, but as soon as I put my shirt back on all emotions took over me. I couldn’t stop crying, I went to Snapchat to share my excitement and this is that video. It’s so comfortable, and most importantly... it fit. I was ecstatic! I wanted to try every shirt I owned, as they all fit differently with the binder on. I looked amazing.

Like I said, I am a bigger guy. This binder pic was taken yesterday (April 22, 2021) because I didn’t feel comfortable yet to show my big body lol, but as you can see, I feel much more comfortable with my binder. Thanks, GC2B!

To sum it all up, I’m choosing to live openly and freely as myself now. I’m trying to get into Facebook groups and such to find more transgender friends, and hopefully find some guidance along the way. I fully instend on transitioning medically and legally along the way. I would like nothing more than to start testosterone (HRT). I’ve dreamed of taking testosterone for as long as I can remember. Well, thank you all for reading this thread. I’ve been going through a lot lately, and this is just a piece of it. Stay awesome and stay healthy, friends. Love ya! -Hayden

[multishipperlove]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Vax'ildan & Vex'ahlia (Critical Role) Characters: Vax'ildan (Critical Role), Vex'ahlia (Critical Role) Additional Tags: Trans Male Character, Trans Vax'ildan (Critical Role), HRT, Doubt, First Day on T, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting Series: Part 7 of Trans Vax'ildan Summary:

Vax is finally able to start hormone replacement therapy. For a moment, he starts having doubts.

Written for Trans Day of Vsibility 2020

*

A heavy silence hung over the small living room the twins shared, Vax sitting on the couch and Vex leaning against the opposite wall, both staring at the blue and white bottle of testosterone gel sitting on the coffee table. It didn't look particularly intimidating, but they both knew it was the start of something... bigger.

“So,” Vex mumbled, speaking up first and actually looking at her brother. “Are you excited? I mean, you can start now, right, this is it?”

Vax just nodded at first, still not taking his eyes off the thing. “I- I guess,” he muttered back. Of course he was excited. After all it had taken months to get the letter from his therapist, find an endocrinologist, deal with his insurance, all that jazz. And he'd, metaphorically, been on the edge of his seat through all of it, so it was a bit hard to understand why it had suddenly turned to apathy. Or fear, maybe. It was hard to put it into words.

Had he looked up, he would have seen his sister's eyes turn soft before she walked over, joining him on the couch and gently bumping shoulders with him. “Look,” she started, reaching out to place her hand on his, “if you don't feel ready, you know you don't have to. Start tomorrow, or next week, or whenever you want.”

“But I don't want to wait any longer!” he groaned in answer, finally allowing himself to move again and falling back against the cushions. His hands came up to cover his eyes, trying to block out the problem and the simmering frustration that came with it. “I've been working towards this for months, why is this so hard?”

“It's a big decision, I'm pretty sure you're not the only one having second thoughts this close to the finish line,” she assured him, tugging him forward again and refusing to let him hide. “Your next therapy appointment is in three days, why don't you talk it over with him.”

Vax shook his head, not happy with that solution either. “That's exactly the point though, I already passed the finish line. I thought it was supposed to be easier from here.”

She hummed softly and then rubbed his arm, before getting up again. “You know what they say about beginnings and endings, brother, it's not that easy. I'm gonna start lunch, you want something?”

“Sure,” he muttered back, rolling his eyes at her answer. But at least it got him to stop brooding for now, as he got up to follow her and help with food prep. Maybe he would talk it over with his therapist again, even though that wasn't really the decision he'd been hoping for today. But it would most likely leave him feeling better than rushing the decision.

For now, he stowed the bottle in the little cupboard above their bathroom sink, right behind the birth control blister package that reminded him he'd forgotten it again this morning. It was a good thing he wasn't actually taking it to avoid getting pregnant.

-

The next morning, he didn't forget his pill. And, of course, that meant he was also greeted by the sight of the bottle again, still standing there, waiting for him. He'd tried to avoid thinking about it too much the other day, so it came as a bit of a surprise to him that most of the negative feelings- weren't there anymore.

The dread that had settled deep in his chest, that had made it hard to breath at times, seemed to have eased up again. Instead he thought about all the possibilities that had seemed so far out of reach once, and were now right at his finger tips. Right. Finish line.

Taking a deep breath he finally reached for the thing, and called out over his shoulder to his sister. “Vex? Vex, I'm fucking doing it!”

“Right now?” Came the confused reply, and a knock at the door a moment later. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, yeah come in,” he mumbled, unlocking the door for her and then taking a step back so they could share the small space in front of the mirror. “Look, waiting sucks, and- it's gel anyway, right? It's not like I'll start sprouting a beard as soon as I apply it. If there are any changes I don't like, I can stop any time.”

Vex smiled at him and nodded, and he got the impression that she'd had the same thing in mind all along. Apparently just waiting for him to make that realisation himself. Smug bastard. At least it had taken him less than 24 hours.

Either way. “Okay, what do I do?” he asked, looking from Vex to the bottle in his hands and back up, suddenly nervous again. “Like, do I shower before applying this? I don't think I have enough patience left for that.”

“Is there an instruction leaflet or something?” Vex asked, and he shrugged again.

“Oh, wait, it came in a cardboard box, maybe there's something in there,” he finally remembered, and told her where to find it. Moments later she was back, instructions in hand and already going over them.

“Okay, okay... says here, you need to apply it to a clean and dry area of skin, preferably your shoulders and upper arms. How many doses are you supposed to start with?”

“Just one for now,” Vax mumbled, as he started to tug his shirt over his head. He wasn't wearing his binder yet, but, well, he wasn't very shy in front of Vex. To make sure his hair wouldn't get in the way he swiped one of the hair ties from her side of the sink, tying it all up in a lazy bun. “I showered before going to sleep, should be clean enough. So... just one pump, right?”

“If your doctor said so,” she agreed, watching as he took the bottle in his hands again and pushed down once, leaving about a gram of translucent gel in his upturned palm. She scrunched up her nose. “Smells like disinfectant.”

Vax just grinned and started to apply it, spreading it as evenly as possible over the free skin. He wasn't bothered by the smell, or by literally anything right now. He was pretty sure he hadn't felt this giddy in weeks.

“Okay, and now you wait,” Vex told him, smiling as well as she watched his obvious delight at the small action. “Three to five minutes it says, then you're allowed to put your shirt back on.”

“Oh fun, so I get to stand around shirtless, in front of the mirror, every morning now?” he scoffed, but there was no heat behind it. Even that couldn't spoil his current mood.

Vex waved him off, busy now with trying to fold the leaflet again and fitting it into the birth control package. Chances were good that they would at least find it there. “I'm sure you'll get used to it. And you don't actually have to stand in front of the mirror, you know. Anyway, how's it feel?”

“Not all that different yet,” Vax chuckled, though he couldn't help but move in a bit closer to the mirror anyway. No beard yet. “But... I don't know, it feels good. Does that make sense? I know it's going to take a few weeks before I notice anything, but it still makes a difference.”

“I think it makes perfect sense,” she assured him once more. “But you know what this calls for?”

“What?”

With a wide grin, she took her phone out of her pocket. “Victory selfie.”

“Vex. I'm literally half naked.”

“Well then don't get your manly tits in the shot, dumbass,” she replied, before tugging him closer again and at an angle where she could take a photo without exposing him too much. It easily became more than one photo, too, with both of them striking some silly poses at first, making dumb faces at the camera, pretty much whatever they could think of to ruin any good shot.

In the end she had what she wanted though. A nice picture of both of them smiling, hair still unkempt and she herself in her pyjamas, Vax' naked shoulders barely in the frame.

Still smiling she pulled him closer still, pressing a kiss to his dark hair. “Happy first day on t, brother,” she whispered, before finally letting go. There were tears in her eyes now, which she did her best to ignore, waiting for a moment where she could wipe her eyes as discreetly as possible, but Vax didn't seem to be doing any better.

Later he would add a voice recording to the selfie, and store both in a very special folder on his phone. One he was hoping to fill with many more voice recordings, and photos, and videos, to make sure he wouldn't miss a single thing about this. To make sure he would always be able to remember how the journey started, and where he'd been along the way.

But for now, he was happy to sink into his sisters arms again and cry, just a little bit. Just until he could put his shirt on again.

[mymistakewriting]

“Just A Taste Of Who We Are” - Haikyuu

So... I know I said I wouldn't write for Haikyuu!! again until after I did my note-taking rewatch but??? It's National Coming Out Day! (For like... three more hours where I live) And so, I decided I'd take some liberty and write an au kinda thing?? Listen, if you go to my ao3, I have written stories like this before - my only thing is if you're gonna start shit and say that it's not canon, you can get the hell off my blog??? Sorry, I'm not trying to be rude but I need to say that before the actual story or I'll have people bothering me about it. This is likely going to be terrible, I'm sorry for the mischaracterization of these lovely babies. Also!!! Everyone's experience is different, please keep that in mind. I myself am not transgender - I'm genderfluid, actually - so for the sake of using a realistic viewpoint, I actually got in touch with one of my high school friends who is currently going through HRT and asked for their help! That said, I hope you enjoy ^^

@fandomsandshipping100 Hey! So here's the story, I said I'd tag you. Don't judge me for my horrible writing for this fandom, k thanks!

Suga honestly shouldn't be so worried about telling the team, he knows that. It isn't the first time he's ever told anyone about him being trans, and he knows it's probably important that they know and he wants them to know but.. But it's terrifying to even imagine it. Because he cares way too much for the other boys to be able to stand it if they hate him. The closest comparison he has to how he currently feels is when he told his parents - he'd been anxious and shaky and about two seconds away from a panic attack once the words were out in the air and met with stony silence. But that had turned out fine, and he was stubbornly trying to think that that's the only way it could turn out this time too - he already felt like he was about to break down crying from his nerves as he headed to the clubroom, if he thought about it going bad he would start crying and he'd never get the nerve back up to tell them. It isn't even like no one else on the team knows! He's got three other people he knows are on his side, but it's still horrifying and leaving him a mess. But he'd been talking himself into this for weeks now, he knew they'd noticed something was up - his fledglings were nothing if not observant and damn if he didn't hate it at the current moment. He could hear Noya talking excitedly through the door as he approached, and almost managed a fond smile at the sound. If Noya knew what was happening and could still be himself, then why was Suga having such a hard time trying to convince himself to open the god damned door between him and the boys he'd chosen as part of his family? As soon as he gets the nerve and opens the door, entering and moving to set his bag down, shrugging his jacket off as he did, it fell quiet. He gave it roughly ten seconds, and as soon as they had passed, Tanaka had spoken up, voice just as excitable as usual but more... restrained? Worried, Suga corrected after a moment. "Suga?" Suga glanced over his shoulder at him to see everyone else staring at him worriedly. Finally, Daichi took pity on them and spoke. "They're worried about you, you've been acting a bit off recently," Suga nodded his understanding, settling down facing them. "Sit, we need to talk," "Just know you don't have to do this right now, okay, Suga?" Asahi said worriedly, giving the ash-haired setter a concerned once over. "It can wait if you want," It can wait. Boy, if that didn't sound amazing and tempting and Suga wanted to wait, to never have this talk, but... "No, I need to do this now," No arguments came, and so they all settled into the talk that Suga was dreading and excited for all at once - Daichi, Asahi, and Noya chipping in at the harder details when he needed a minute to recompose himself. Silence fell as soon as everything was said and the anxiety formed a hard ball in Suga's gut, tightening the longer it lasted as they digested the information they'd just been given. Tsukishima was the first to react at all, and he just hummed before he got up and continued getting ready for practice. "Alright, let me know if you need something," It took a minute for Suga's worried thoughts to process the easy acceptance those words were backed with, and as soon as it had registered, he was up and moving to hug the first year tightly, causing the blond to sputter in surprise at the sudden - not agreed upon - affection he was being treated to. No one else said anything - well, besides Daichi's warning of "if I hear about any of you giving him hell for this, you'll be removed from the team."

It was probably the hardest of the times he had to tell anyone, but he was glad for it. And he pretended not to notice the others keeping a careful eye on him during practices and games when he was actually binding, making sure he took breaks and would prompt him to go ahead of them to get out of the constricting material so he didn't cause himself any damages. When he told them he was getting top surgery, they all either sent him a message, called, or showed up to the hospital to support him. He couldn't have wished for better people in his life.

[morbidly-queerious]

Feeling especially broken and weird about gender today. The hardest thing about triggers is when they destroy real and true joy, especially when that destruction ends up being at the expense of others. Kid-brother and his fiance a few months back decided they wanted to have a baby. They tried for about two months and were delighted when she got pregnant. And when Turtle and I found out we were excited and nervous and hopeful and a million big emotions because this is Turtle's little boy all grown up and starting a family, but they're young and neither of them have any career training and aren't making a whole lot of money, but they love each other and their unborn baby and are going to make the very best of what they have. But underneath all that happiness, a big part of me was scared and shaken. Kid-brother is a year or two younger than me, several years younger than Turtle, and having a baby was as simple for them as saying to each other "I want this" and then giving it a quick go. It was hard to face that. And now, the announcement is that Kid-brother is going to be father to twins. They have sweet, beautiful names, and ultrasound pictures and double sets of clothes and cradles, and I.......I feel so much joy for them. But instead of being able to really be there for them like I need to (they're young and having twins, how will they pay for two children when one was already going to be a challenge? How will kid-brother's fiance experience her pregnancy when she's small and a little frail and now carrying two, big, healthy babies inside her? Who will look after her and the little ones during bed rest while kid-brother needs to go to work?) I have spent most of the last couple if days since I found out sobbing in grief. No matter how real my delight in their little blessings, I can't move past my own self hatred and terror enough to be present. I feel useless and broken and like everything I have been trying to move past since I was 14 years old and my small world shattered on the floor of a doctor's office. My love and happiness can't stop the indescribable pain of years of believing that the one thing I had always wanted was the one thing I would never get. I have invested time and pain and money and discomfort into trying to make my body "normal" and "functional" even when I have known for a while that neither of those things were what I wanted, all because I knew that it was my last hope of having this dream come true for me. And now that we're just beginning to take steps to measure my results, with no real way of knowing for sure if anything we've done has worked except to try to have a child, kid-brother is easily and effortlessly flowing through the stages of becoming a parents and the joy they are trying to share with us and with the rest of the family just feels like a slap to the face and a reminder that I may never get to have that myself. And that if I do, no one else will see it as the hard fought battle it was and understand how hard I worked for it, they will see it as a natural function that happens every day. Mine wasn't special, nor important, and my children are not miracles, just next in the line of the family's new generation. I will be alone if/when I look at my child and see how much went into their existence. It's times like these when I struggle most with the idea that as a trans person, my sex and gender match. Because......for me they don't and they can't. I will always be the [A] that wasn't a proper [A]. I will always be suspected of turning to transness to compensate for my self hatred and poor self image due to my brokenness. I will always have spent years trying to correct my body into a sex that was in contrast with my gender. I will always be......something that was broken so badly it could barely.....or maybe couldn't be.....put back together. And so I grieve, and I cry, and I put on concealer and face kid-brother with a smile and send hugs and gifts and supplies to them and pray they never know how selfish and cruel I am that part of me can't bear the reminder that they are happy right now. On my birthday, it will have been five months since we stopped the HRT in the hopes that it might have finally worked. Turtle has promised that we'll revisit the question of babies then. Turtle is worried about me running before I'm ready to walk, and about money and child care and the practical day to days of us being parents. I am worried about things like going stir crazy without the mutual orgasms we've had to avoid since the HRT stopped, and about my own fears of never becoming a parent and about the dysphoria of continuing to have this body and more HRT down the line. Both sets of concerns are important. I don't know what decision we'll end up making. I just hope I can stop crying soon.

[thepdvblog]

Dandelion - Chapter 2: Daffodil Bouquet

Dandelion Directory

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: She gives him a bouquet of daffodils before they drive off, telling him these are his favourite flowers and that he now needs to move on. Isn’t this the meaning of daffodils? I think you once told me that when you picked them as your symbol or something.

Notes: I should precise beforehand this story (just like all my original work) is set in an alternative France where technology and society are more advanced than their IRL counterparts. This is why Florian has access this early to hormone blockers and hormones, when this story is set in anno domini 2003 for the moment.

AO3 version available here.

Finding a name to refer to himself is a life changer. Roxanne calls him “Flo”, Juliette, who is still struggling coming to terms with this but is trying her hardest, calls him insists on “Florian” because she is still not used to it. And yet, she gives him some advice to look more masculine, basing herself off things she has seen among male soccer players: how to make his voice sound lower, how to present as confident and self-assured when he truly isn’t, somehow provides him with brand-new male clothing and underwear he could not have wished for more.

Juliette once told me, when visiting me in this hospital years later, that her mother was a cashier at a local Carrefour, and that she could easily access unsold products that way. Barely legal, but I doubt much of my early transition was condoned by most of societal conventions.

 Mrs Flamand tells him, during a session where she finally realizes this has been illegal all along, that she will only give him the green light for the next step once he is an adult in the eyes of the law. This makes Florian realize a few things, starting with what legally being an adult is going to allow him to do. He will finally be able to change his name to the eye of the world, go on what seems to be a dangerous therapy, stop being himself only around Roxanne and Juliette, stop being “Catherine” around the teachers and the classmates who know he is supposed to be a girl.

Florian makes a third friend who does understand who he is, but he is an online buddy. He lives in the south of the country, kilometres upon kilometres away from Colombes, living under the Mediterranean heat, near the Rhône’s delta. Their friendship is unlikely, considering this friend is already in college, yet feels natural: Lilian is trying to understand his little sister, Florian is just trying to get his voice somewhere where he won’t be targeted by the crude remarks of people reminding him, “you looked better when you weren’t pretending to be a boy”.

 Yet, anxiety remains in his veins. The more his birthday nears closer, Roxanne swearing to buy him the best she can for this important occasion, Lilian thinking of a thousand ideas for a drawn present, the worst it gets. His dysphoria is rushing him to finally take the goddamn hormones before it threatens the remainder of his mental health, so he focuses on books and flowers to pass the time until it gets better.

He remembers an old thing his eighth-grade Literature teacher said once during a class, that there are birth month flowers just like there are birthstones, albeit there is no universal version of it. Searching in the local library on a free Wednesday afternoon where he does not feel like going back “home”, he finds out his assigned flower would either be a narcissus or a daffodil. The latter resonates so much, once he looks into the symbolism behind it: new beginnings, unrequited love, respect. The daffodil quickly becomes his personal symbol, the flower he likes to draw on science lessons instead of actually listening.

It is every time he goes home from school that he remembers why there is still so much fear inside his heart. He is not afraid of the decision to start HRT: it only feels like the next step on his journey. However, he is terrified of the reactions he will get when he will have to eventually come clean about it, about the fact he is a he and not a she, about how his parents are going to disown him quicker than lightning. Considering their rampant racism and internalized classicism, there is no way they will accept their daughter to actually be a son.

Phrased like that, I almost sound like I’ve once enjoyed being born to them.

 Even then, Florian presses on. He has no time to lose worrying about his parents’ reaction when he can spend said time researching where to live in case the worst happens and he gets kicked out from home. He has no real way to gain money until he is out of high school, but he still tries: he applies for holiday jobs for the Easter and summer breaks, he sells some old belongings like most of his female clothes, he still abuses of his parents’ lack of concern and constant arguing to steal a few bucks every week after school. All flats he could possibly get in at the last minute are too expensive for him to afford until his first jobs, so Roxanne finds a solution of him: he can live in an abandoned flat the owner, a man living in Calais named Norbert Leeht, has forgotten he was still paying for.

When she brings him there for the first time, he discovers why someone that guy has forgotten they he was paying for it until it was rented: it is incredibly small, just enough for one person with a ridiculously tiny bathroom and barely any other furniture than a bed that was left there years ago and a small kitchen. It is still much better than he expected to get: at least, he does not have to pay for anything not additional furniture or food.

 The premise being this eerily advantageous, Florian looks more into it and into its owner. Norbert Leeht is known online for his abandoned flats people love to occupy illegally when in a pinch, flats he has forgotten he owned and had not rented, too busy counting the amounts of money he gets from villas he actually cares about. In order to receive his mail properly, he decides to make his address Roxanne’s, the easiest option he has considering this flat will never have his name on it.

Furnishing the flat is harder than he wishes it was. He needs to move most of his room’s furniture without being spotted by his parents, for which the ideal time is on Wednesday afternoons where his father is at work and where his mother is out shopping for groceries. Roxanne, Juliette and he always strike around his time and, soon enough, only the bed and a dresser he plans on replacing anyway are out of there. After a while, the flat feels more like home than his supposed house has ever done. Everything is in place for the final revelation.

 On March 20th, 2003, a warm Thursday where spring is just around the corner, he decides to let his plans finally play out, hoping for the best like the young and optimistic boy he has been ever since seeing things go forward. His therapist hands him out a strange box after his session of the week. Upon opening it, he sees a small recipient and a syringe. He does not need to read the label on the former to have a smile invade his face and his eyes tear up.

“I figured you’d be mature enough to handle these by yourself, Florian,” she tells him as she looks at the box. “And since I know you’re rather shaky on your finances, I’ve paid you the first dose and the syringe with it. You told me you didn’t mind needles, right? I can provide you with pills if you do.”

His voice catches up in his throat, and even he wants to be a man and not cry, his thankfulness eventually explodes.

“I… Thank you so much, I… I don’t know what to say…”

 Dr Flamand then spends some time explaining him how to inject himself, and even if his fingers are shaking around the syringe as if it could break under his touch, it feels like the best piece of news in the latest year. It is finally in his hands, the way to break away from womanhood even more, to provide his body with what he is missing: his facial hair, a lower voice, a better repartition of his body fat.

Of course, he does not go blind into hormone reassignment surgery. He has researched its symptoms, asked high-school science major Juliette if she can clear up things, eventually blesses Lilian for being a medical student in an internship. He knows he will look very… teenage-y for a while, with a lowering voice, potential skin issues, possible hair loss, a risk to get excessive body fat he does not really want. After all, he is wearing a binder to hide his chest, no need for it to get bigger. And yet, he feels more than ready for it, already eyeing the syringe in desire.

I remember being terrified of this decision, when I first found out about HRT and what it was about. I kept asking to the mirror, “What if this isn’t what I am? What’s going to happen to me?”. I have to say, I regret not having started it before, even if I know I had to be mature to handle it correctly.

 Everything is set in stone in his eyes when his eighteenth birthday rolls around. It is a time of truth, his moment to come out, to tell everyone “Catherine” is dead, to welcome Florian, the one he has been all along. It is exciting, it is terrifying, like his first rush of injected testosterone, the fear of the needle and the euphoria from the hormone he has craved for years. He already thinks of all the pros and cons of coming out, having studied the matter for the past months and having talked about it with Roxanne and Juliette for days on end. He prepares himself for school, gazes into the mirror wishing for facial hair to come soon, puts on his needed outfit and heads to school, both terrified and ecstatic.

I’d define myself as a careful and prudent man, but it wasn’t the same when I was a boy. It’s difficult to see what discrimination you are about to face when it’s invisible to most people due to how rare this all is.

 For the first time ever, Roxanne and Juliette call him out by his real name instead of “Cat” as they are used to around his class. They help the anxious, now tetanized boy to ask his homeroom teacher, the Literature one, if he can make an important announcement. Of course, this makes the old lady be suspicious, but she accepts nonetheless, and he mentally prepares himself to break Catherine’s shell once and for all, never to be seen again, so ready to reject her for the last time and never look back on it. Looking at his entire class, all there for once, taking his proudest stance despite the sheer terror stacking in his throat, he takes one deep breath in, one out, and stares at everyone though his clear, “enticing” irises.

I remember by heart what I said on that day, fifteen years later.

 Everyone, listen. It’ll sound weird, I know, but I’ve never been a girl. I’m a boy, a boy in a girl’s body. It’s a rare case, a mental disorder if you want to call it that. Please, even if you don’t believe it…

Don’t call me Catherine.

Call me Florian.

 The surprise it drops onto everyone’s shoulders is mind-blowing. Most of them stare at each other, bewildered, and the fear rises inside his chest at an alarming rate. Roxanne is not in his class, and so is Juliette, so he is all alone in a class who barely knows him anyway. Some start to laugh, others seem to remember some sex education lessons provided by Planned Parenthood during their earlier school years, or by that one Biology class from last year, and in the end he is torn between people not taking him seriously and others trying to understand. The teacher stares at him, at loss for words, so she gulps and just politely, almost quietly, tells him “please take your seat again, Ca…” and she stops herself.

Acceptance does not come easily after this announcement. The mockeries start even more, saying he is just “playing pretend” and “a tomboy who takes it too far”. The jokes are common and start almost immediately, but some classmates really show empathy and a will to understand, so it is all fine. Well, the mockery does remind him of the risks he has read about online all that time and how dysphoric they all are, but it is nothing compared to the last straw.

His parents.

 For the first time in years, Florian goes up to his parents as he wants to be, rather than what they would have him rather be so they would have no more issues.

It may sound strange to the outside ears, but I was an undesired child. They were just against getting an abortion for me and too uneducated to know they could put me elsewhere, although I have to give them kudos for trying to raise me and always feeding me. I suppose routine and familial allocations helped me being more helpful than they had expected.

In fact, he almost shows it heavily on purpose, binder on, hair freshly cut by Roxanne’s sister Solange, dressed in all dark blues and men’s apparel, in a spirit of provocation and spite he did not think he had before this day and preparing it for it. His heart still tries to break out of his ribcage, smashing itself against the bones in his chest, but he keeps it together and mans up.

 The reaction he gets from them as soon as he says “Mom, dad, I’m a boy” is baffling at best. They stare at him, asking him why he is saying that, how it is “just a phase” and how “he’ll see that he’s gonna know he’s a girl soon again”.

What a joke.

Florian arguments back, pulls together all the ideas and explanations he has ever done, while not even hoping to get their approval. It seems counterproductive, he knows how this is all going to play out. He has nothing to lose, so he puts between his parents and him the paper officially diagnosing him with gender dysphoria, another with all the actions he has taken to “fix” the issue. The eyes of his father shoot through his irises, rage burning in that stare, barking following.

 “You’re no daughter of mine.”

“And I’m no girl,” he replies.

“Fuck off, get out of here, you fuckin’ crossdressing fuck!”

“I guessed you’d ask me to do just that.”

“Why did you tell us then?!” his mother asks him through tears he can tell are fake, the way to bribe her way out of divorce threats.

“Because I’m no dishonest man. I waited for this day for so long.”

“Fuck off.”

“Farewell.”

 Taking the remainder of his bedroom’s things, Florian sets off, leaving nothing behind him but a few unsold girly clothes and a rotting flower which died before seeing spring come back. Roxanne is waiting for him outside, a warm smile and welcoming arms he still loves despite the split-up. Despite how ready he felt he was before, tears come to his eyes and he abandons himself in his best friend’s embrace.

Eighteen-year old me would have liked to know how painful being rejected by your own family can be painful, even if you know the end result isn’t going to be pretty.

 Roxanne invites him to come in her car, saying she would drive him back home, putting the last of his belongings into the chest of the vehicle. She lied: minutes later, she tells him she is paying him a good dinner in a not-so-expensive restaurant, “because he deserves only good things when he’s been that brave with this”.

She gives him a bouquet of daffodils before they drive off, telling him these are his favourite flowers and that he now needs to move on. Isn’t this the meaning of daffodils? I think you once told me that when you picked them as your symbol or something.

“Thank you so much” escapes in a sob from his mouth before he takes off his glasses and wipes them with his arms. To all the preparation he has made for this day, and to all the better days to come.