i'm a mess, i guess

when i was seven years old, i remember running outside my primary school building into a bright, warm spring day on the playground for recess. i was wearing blue jeans, and a light blue button-up shirt. as i played and played, my body temperature rose, and following the lead of the boys on the playground, i unbuttoned the top half of my shirt. one of my teachers noticed what i had done, and promptly came over to lecture me about how girls aren't allowed to unbutton their shirts the way boys could. she buttoned my shirt back up for me and sent me on my way, both confused and hot.

a few weeks later, i developed my first girl crush on a brown-haired, brown-eyed, smart girl named jennifer. after school one day, we stood out by one of the tall pine trees talking about our plans for the summer, and i plucked the heads off of dandelions to avoid eye contact. ten years later, i was sitting in the passengers side of a while honda civic hatchback, picking at a hole in the knee of my jeans, avoiding eye contact with a completely different jennifer - this one ten years my senior, brown hair, blue eyes, who spoke six different languages fluently. both were straight. i remember thinking that if my gender was different, i would have had a shot. looking back, i wouldn't have had a shot at all.. but my crushes might have been considered cute, and not creepy. no one likes a creepy lesbian.

so yes, my childhood and adolescence were sprinkled heavily with my own version of gender bending. i stuffed socks in my panties. i borrowed belts, shoes, shirts, from my boy childhood friends, aching for actual boy things, from the boy department, that a real live boy would wear, that a parent of a real live boy would buy them. i never returned them. i took advantage of the 80's obsession with girls wearing ties, and wore one any chance i could (read: when my mother let me) and often locked myself in my room all dressed in drag... with my panties stuffed, of course... just sitting around, listening to music, being boy-like. i tried to pee standing up once (what girl hasn't??), but peed down my leg. i used to go to sleep at night wishing and hoping that i would wake up in a boys body. i got called my mother's son more often than her daughter, and most of the time, neither of us corrected the cashier/saleswoman/whomever. it was just easier to go with it, than embrace the embarrassment that all three of us would have experienced.

i suppose the first time i passed on purpose was when i was about 12 years old. i went to get a haircut at the local hair cuttery (my mom had dropped me off at the mall). if you're familiar with your local hair cuttery, they ask you to type in your name onto their computer, which puts you in the queue. apparently when i arrived, there was no line, so the first hairdresser pulled me into her chair, skipping the name-entering process, and went to town.. giving me a real live boys haircut. short sideburns, no shampoo, snip snip snip. a co-worker asked her to lunch, and she said that she'd be right there after she finished up with "this boy" i.e. me. after she was done, she asked me to type my name into the computer for their records, and for the bill. j-a-c-k, my panicked, nervous fingers typed, afraid she would realize at any moment that i was a girl. i paid and ran out to wait for my mom. i loved my haircut, but knew the ridicule would come the next day... it was a small price to pay for passing, and getting that first real live boys haircut. i haven't had another one since. but my craving for one, along with the more modernized sock stuffed in my pants, has led me to start this journal. welcome.