Blog 4

Grade six was one of the worst years of my school career.

I woke up early for the first day of school. As soon as my teeth were brushed I put on my awesome blue sweatsuit. I couldn't wait to show off my new clothes. I wondered how many friends I would have at the new school. I had seen tetherball poles, we didn't have those at my old school. I was excited to try them out at recess. My mom drove up to the school. I gave her a quick kiss and was off to start a new year.

When I walked into the classroom the teacher immediately told us to pair up. We were about to play a "break the ice" game. I paired up with a pretty blonde girl. We were told to find several things we had in common and then one of us would share our findings with the class. One of the things we had in common was that we were both girls. When it was our turn to share, my partner piped, "she's a girl! Really, it's a girl!" I could feel my face burn with embarrassment as the kids stared at me as if I had three heads. Well, at least everyone would remember my name.

The next period was french. All new classmates - I can make friends in this class . When I raised my hand as the teacher called out my extremely feminine name, everyone stared. Even the teacher was surprised, "you're a girl?" To this day I'm not sure if she meant for that to be aloud because she turned as red as I did when I answered, "oui, je suis une fille." Again, I felt like a freak of nature as everyone glared at me.

Gym class was the worst. When I entered the girls changeroom, several girls squealed and covered themselves. Luckily, there was a girl from my first period class who was happy to inform them, "it's a girl!" I walked through the changeroom quickly without changing (or crying) and sat in the gym waiting for the other girls. When they emerged from the changeroom they were giggling and staring and giggling and staring as they sat as far away from me as possible.

By lunch, I didn't care that I had on an awesome sweatshirt or that there were tetherball poles in the yard. I sat alone in the concourse trying not to look up as I ate my lunch in silence . . .

Blog 3

For the first few grades in school everyone I met simply called me a tomboy. The worst part about school was when we got separated into boys and girls for various reasons. Unfortunately, I would be amongst the girls. Whenever I was separated with the girls all I could do was daydream about being on the boys' side. Sometimes my jealousy of the boys took over my thoughts and I HATED THEM! WHY WERE THEY SO LUCKY TO BE BOYS!

Whenever my parents took me out of the house, I stared at other boys and their families. I could only dream of what it would be like to be called "son" or "brother" or "he" or "him".

I remember my mom and dad taking me to buy a new outfit for school before I started sixth grade. That year they let me choose for myself and I picked an awesome blue sweatshirt with matching sweatpants. To say I was extremely excited to begin the school year in those clothes would be an understatement. It never crossed my mind that I would have problems because I was wearing boys' clothes and had a short haircut and was starting a new school . . .

Blog 2

Hello Friends,

I cannot remember a time when I was happy being a girl. For as long as I can remember I have always wanted to be a boy. I couldn't help being jealous when my parents took me clothes shopping and I looked over in the boys' department at all the happy boys. I wanted jeans and a plaid shirt and shirts with Transformers on them and Superman pajamas and a suit for church and trunks for swimming. IT ISN'T FAIR!!

In grade one I remember having my first crush - on a girl! I didn't know what was wrong with me or how to ask my parents if they knew what was wrong with me. I just knew something was definitely not right.

I liked being called a tomboy because it had the word boy in it.

At least I could pick the toys I wanted to play with - guns and trucks and He-Man and Transformers and GI Joe and Super Heroes. Except for my dad's work's Xmas party where Santa would give me an age appropriate girl toy. My sister always got two presents from those parties cause I sure as hell wasn't going to use an EZ Bake Oven!

I can't even begin to describe the humiliation of having to wear a dress or a skirt or pink!

As I grew older my life became increasingly difficult . . .

Blog 1

Hello Friends,

I wish I was a boy. I wish I was a boy. I remember being on my knees every night as a young child hoping that my prayers would be answered. Every morning I faced the heartbreak of waking up TRAPPED for another day in the body of a female.

This blog will describe my journey from a young child wishing for a miracle to a post op male.

I hope it will inspire and motivate those who think becoming a male is impossible.

I hope it also brings a few laughs and tears to those who share the same struggle.

Journey with me.