Because life keeps putting me back into a new closet these days.
No, Kaiser still hasn’t gotten back to me. This therapist better give me my T when I walk in, because goddamn are they hard to get a hold of.
So, you may or may not know, I’m getting married to this cute girl I met in high school. (Seriously, she’s so cute and I don’t deserve this happiness. Like. What did I do.)
It has been a big deal for the Mothership, ever since we announced it, for me to wear…a dress.
At the time, I shrugged it off. Sure, whatever. It’s one day, I can wear a dress. HOWEVER. The more time and energy and thought I put into being male…the more certain I became about wearing that suit. I have already bought the dress, too (and there’s no returns. UGH.).
But this all means I had to tell my mom. I didn’t wear a dress to prom. I hate wearing girly clothes. And for all that my mother has done for me, I felt obligated to wear the silly dress. But. That silly dress causes me a lot of stress and discomfort. I knew that I had to tell her, I’m not saying yes to the dress.
So I tried. I pushed it. But I couldn’t push forward more than, “I’ll wear the dress for the ceremony and the suit for the reception.” Because I didn’t want to make her sad. I love my mother, you guys. She’s done so, so, soooo much for me. If she did not take me in? I wouldn’t have met this cute girl or made such cool friends, or even, very realistically, be alive. I couldn’t shatter her dream. So I compromised.
Lucky me, that cute fiancee of mine talked to her today and informed my mom I will not be wearing the dress. That was a great weight lifted from my shoulders! The Mothership knows! She’s not sad!
At least as far as I can tell. She does the same thing I do and we repress our outward emotion and focus on something else. Like the laptop or TV or Phone.
My Fiancee paved the way for me to come out to my mom. I want to dance with my mom for the mother son dance. I love my step-dad and all, but I’d really want to dance with her. Especially in my suit, looking dapper, and (fucking Kaiser) on T.
I have come out twice to my father. Twice because he wrote the first time off as a phase and me seeking attention. I had come out as a lesbian, because I didn’t know what else I was or could be. Dad was quick to shut me down and make me hide everything. Needless to say, I was not intending to have to come out again in my life time after my family knew what was going on.
Telling my mom I was trans was both difficult and relieving. It went very well, as far as coming out stories go, and she seems to like the name I’ve picked.
I’ll tell you now, my middle name is/will be James. She looked me dead in the eyes and said “JAMES. POTTER.” And I just smiled and nodded.
My brother knows. My mom knows. My step dad would know if he hadn’t slipped off to bed so suddenly…(I told my mom she’s free to tell him because I don’t particularly ENJOY coming out). But the rest of my family doesn’t know.
That’s fine with me. And I CERTAINLY don’t expect any of them to start pronouns or name changes…or even if they did, I totally understand that they’re going to mess it up a lot.
My mom can’t even remember that I can’t smell. From an accident. That probably could have killed me. I’m not gonna hold anything against her.
So yes. Wedding is just around the corner and I’m wearing this super sexy grey suit with an ivory shirt and vest, with purple pocket squares! Stoked!! It makes up for the fact that my birth name will be on a lot of things…but we’re trying to keep names off of things. :)
(Also, sorry if this post is a train wreck, I hate rereading what I write. So grammar and typos and what not are just going to have to be there. I don’t careeeee~)