The helicopter flew over chopping away at thick heavy humid summer air that had descended the last few weeks and as the sun dulled away over the horizon of houses the flying ants took to the ground and dusk was allowed to hint. It was hard enough to take a breath in this air but at least the evening was bringing some relief and so I took a breath as much as I could to clear my spinning head.
Body image is one part of the gender thingthat comes and goes as much as the fear and confidence and at that moment, standing still on the decking looking across at the sky fading from hazy blue to a dusty pink hue and the only noise remaining was the grey distant hush of the carriage way and the cyclic squeaking of the neighbours boiler outlet, I felt that body image oneness – well at least some kind of contentment with my current shape and build followed by ‘with a little bit of work – may be.’
That is to say that I felt the feeling that I had lost for a few weeks being in a state of knowing exactly what I would like to happen without any hinderance and loss of confidence or self doubt. I stood there in a loose summer top and some denim shorts and wondered if I would be standing here next year in a similar way on a pleasant evening thinking the same thing with the same contentment only with those slight man-boobs being growing actual-boobs or would my face be pressed against the window watching the rain pour down and drips fall on the surface of the door wishing I had done more about my situation.
Just as I think that I can feel a stomach butterfly of ‘oh no!’ form that wasn’t there before I thought about it. Just the very thought of something that was no-changeeasily turned into something a little negative and almost self prophesying. While taking that decision to not-do-anything doesn’t need to be a negative thing of disappointment it would just mean getting on with life and finding meaning in life elsewhere but if that was the choice I made then it would have to be genuine – and right now that doesn’t feel like a genuine decision for me.
Telling people, in particular family or more precisely – parents, about thegender thingis about giving up some control over what they think of you, not what theyactually think of you but how youthink they think of you. It feels like a big leap of faith in the people you love and keeping some lottery-fingers crossed that they’ll still love you and understand why and, even better, feel how genuine it all is. Most parents want what’s best and all they want is for you to be happy, but for some the cost can seem too much.
Dusk had really got hold of the evening air with a single star in the sky starting to pierce through and a pair of bats fluttering in seemingly random directions with each other just over head. While the trees and bushes at the bottom of the garden turned to deep shadowy shapes just one plant of bright flowers still fluoresced dimly from the gaining darkness.
How lucky am I though at this moment to have such choices in what I can do with my future and still at an age to make it worth while. There are always days when it feels like the complete opposite, ‘why didn’t I do something sooner?’, ‘Why am I not more feminine?’ et. al. But then something will trigger a different point of view, a certain angle in the mirror, a different perspective on the size of my fingers, seeing a women with a bigger nose than me (me-ow). A friend said the other day ‘My god, you’ve got little boys hands.’ Well, half way there I guess.
With darkness well and truly descended and only one light switch for it to click I closed the doors and flowing white curtains and felt at least a little more content than I did today. Above all I remember this one thought and that’s would I want my parents to never know this other side of me properly that is so innate, true and strong.
Until next time,