From Fat to Skinny
December 9, Tuesday
The Ricci household is cozy. The mom, Jane, and the dad, Fred, are nice enough people. Ricci’s an only child.
At the dinner table, after the meal had been concluded (and fucking hell Ricci you promised you would eat more) and we were just sitting around talking, Ricci came out. He has way better timing than I do. (I came out when my mom was driving me to soccer practice. We nearly hit an oncoming car. We’re good now though.)
Ricci: “Mom, Dad, I am a boy.”
Mom: “What?”
Dad: “You mean you’re a lesbian? We kinda guessed that, darling.”
Ricci: “No, lesbians are girls. I am a boy, mentally.”
Ricci had printed off beforehand a lot of pamphlets and such about being transgender, what it means, and what family members can expect, etc. He gave them to his parents, who read them skeptically but didn’t start yelling at least. I expected worse, but obviously they kind of guessed that there was something like this going on. Like I said, Ricci had a very ‘un-girly’ aura to him to begin with.
Mom: “Are you sure you want to be like this? It seems like a lot of trouble, and you’re really a very pretty girl, Chloe.”
Ricci: “No, I don’t want to be transgender, but I don’t have a choice. If I did have a choice I wouldn’t chose to be like this.” (His voice cracked, the most vulnerable I’d ever seen him, besides that damn ambulance ride)
Dad: “But you are a girl. Who are you trying to attract? Who would want a girl without boobs and with facial hair?” (Fucking low-blow. What the hell does that have to do with anything? It’s who he is, not who he’s trying to ‘attract’.)
Ricci: “Are you attracted solely to mom’s genitalia? Look, physically, yes, my chromosomes and hormonal make up proclaims me to be female, but my mind, my gender, is in disagreement. I can change my body, but I can’t change the way I feel. Trust me, I tried.”
Mom: “Can’t you just be a lesbian though?”
Ricci: “It doesn’t work that way.”
Dad: “How are you sure?”
Ricci: “I’ve felt this way forever. Puberty just made things worse. Made it impossible to be who I am.”
Mom: “Do you understand how many people are going to hurt you just because of this?” (A valid concern, one that my own parents share.)
Ricci: “I’d rather be dead than force myself to live a lie the rest of my life.”
And that shut up both of his parents.
They hugged and I went home, feeling conflicted. Ricci had come out and his parents seemed willing to learn but damn it, I watched him like a hawk and he didn’t even eat a quarter of what was on his plate.
At the dinner table, after the meal had been concluded (and fucking hell Ricci you promised you would eat more) and we were just sitting around talking, Ricci came out. He has way better timing than I do. (I came out when my mom was driving me to soccer practice. We nearly hit an oncoming car. We’re good now though.)
Ricci: “Mom, Dad, I am a boy.”
Mom: “What?”
Dad: “You mean you’re a lesbian? We kinda guessed that, darling.”
Ricci: “No, lesbians are girls. I am a boy, mentally.”
Ricci had printed off beforehand a lot of pamphlets and such about being transgender, what it means, and what family members can expect, etc. He gave them to his parents, who read them skeptically but didn’t start yelling at least. I expected worse, but obviously they kind of guessed that there was something like this going on. Like I said, Ricci had a very ‘un-girly’ aura to him to begin with.
Mom: “Are you sure you want to be like this? It seems like a lot of trouble, and you’re really a very pretty girl, Chloe.”
Ricci: “No, I don’t want to be transgender, but I don’t have a choice. If I did have a choice I wouldn’t chose to be like this.” (His voice cracked, the most vulnerable I’d ever seen him, besides that damn ambulance ride)
Dad: “But you are a girl. Who are you trying to attract? Who would want a girl without boobs and with facial hair?” (Fucking low-blow. What the hell does that have to do with anything? It’s who he is, not who he’s trying to ‘attract’.)
Ricci: “Are you attracted solely to mom’s genitalia? Look, physically, yes, my chromosomes and hormonal make up proclaims me to be female, but my mind, my gender, is in disagreement. I can change my body, but I can’t change the way I feel. Trust me, I tried.”
Mom: “Can’t you just be a lesbian though?”
Ricci: “It doesn’t work that way.”
Dad: “How are you sure?”
Ricci: “I’ve felt this way forever. Puberty just made things worse. Made it impossible to be who I am.”
Mom: “Do you understand how many people are going to hurt you just because of this?” (A valid concern, one that my own parents share.)
Ricci: “I’d rather be dead than force myself to live a lie the rest of my life.”
And that shut up both of his parents.
They hugged and I went home, feeling conflicted. Ricci had come out and his parents seemed willing to learn but damn it, I watched him like a hawk and he didn’t even eat a quarter of what was on his plate.