Who am I ?
Hello. I am ‘The Goth one’, ‘The man’, ‘The fat one’, ‘The ugly one’, ‘The weird one’. That is who I am. Or, that is who I was up until a year ago. Now I’m ‘The one with the tits’, ‘The one whose bra is showing’, ‘The one with the hair’, and despite all of my changes, I’m still ‘The weird one’. Yet, despite all of my wishes, I am still the female.
But before you begin to make a crude judgement, I want to let you know that I am the one who thinks that reading in a library is fun, who prefers walking in the rain to sunbathing and wouldn’t dream of wearing a bikini, or short sleeve shirts for that matter. I am also the one who found her hearts desires in a fantasy book, whose real world does not exist in reality. I am the one who carried sticks in case Dementors attacked, who put washing up powder in plastic bags and pretended to her ‘friends’ that she was dealing drugs with her imaginary boyfriend Alec, his gay best friend Bobby (who also wore eyeliner) and those two other blokes - Mark and Luke.
I am the one who, for a very, very long time, questioned her sexuality. So much so that I pretended to be male, just to hear a female masturbate to me. I am the one who rolled socks into a ball and put them down my pants, just so I could experience the ‘real me’. I am the one who now has a boyfriend, but still watches lesbian porn. I am the one who imagines herself being straddled by a female, caressed softly and kissed gently. I am the one who watches PornHub and pays attention to the females being tied down and dominated; I watch how their hands and feet are bound, how the skin tightens smoothly over their jerking hips and how their hairs sways with each pleasurable jerk.
I am . . . not what you thought.