Hmm... well, I do not would like to totally derail the thread, but I suppose a brief summary of my relationship with my parents couldn't hurt too much.
As a child, early enough that my memories start to get kind of vague and cloudy, I often had leanings towards doing girly things. I wanted my hair long, I hated cutting my nails short, I liked girly toys (though my access to them was pretty limited), and I remember pretending to be female characters from things (the Princess of Moonbrook from Dragon Warrior II on the NES, for instance...). My parents would continually try to discourage me from such things, laying down rules and forcing me to get haircuts and constantly badgering about the nail thing and soforth.
By the time I was 11, they had me convinced, arbitrarily, that gay people were bad and would burn in hell and that I should have nothing to do with them and that they were to be shunned and soforth and so on.
But then I hit puberty and my internal femininity broke that particular dam all to hell, so when I was 12 I got really, really curious- though it was hard to get my mind to open to the notion of it as being a
real possibility, and I was ecstatic when I learned just how real it was- about how the whole 'sex change' thing I'd so briefly heard about from TV worked. So I did a little research, found some site called
transsexual.org...
I knew in my heart what I wanted, who I am, and I decided to try to make it really happen. I also knew just how serious of a problem it could be if my family disapproved, which seemed likely, although I also knew I could get something done about it sooner rather than later if there was some chance they were willing to help.
So, I very carefully and casually tried to lean towards what girly things I thought I could get away with. I tried to fight for my hair, talked about growing it out long, about ways of styling it; I experimented a little with the boy clothes that I had, tying a flannel around my waist like a skirt. I also asked some beating around the bush questions to try to figure out how much they knew about the whole subject and more specifics on what their feelings about it were.
Then one day (when I was still 12), I was in the car on the way back from the grocery store with mom. She told me to cut my nails, as often, and I squirmed around uncomfortably, obviously unhappy with it- a routine going all the way back to childhood.
We got to the driveway, the car parked, and mom looked me in the eye and asked, in the most threatening tone possible, "Are you gay?"; panicked, I said "What? No!", and she said "Good, because if you were, your father and brother would have to beat you, and I might help them."
That was the whole discussion and, for years, we never spoke of it again. I started furiously hiding everything I cared about. My parents made me get my hair cut really, really short the next year, but I sort of freaked out and we had a series of fights about it, and they kept trying to tell me I'd get another haircut soon, which somehow turned into begging me to be okay with getting a haircut, which turned into dad suggesting giving me money as a reward for getting a haircut, which ultimately resulted in me successfully avoiding ever getting another haircut until I willingly got a very light trim a couple years ago to try to clean up on split ends.
Other than that, the hiding thing seemed to work, and they were perfectly happy to deny the whole thing out of existence in their heads most of the time, so I got by until I was 18, when I moved out without telling them and without initially giving them any address with which to contact me, leaving a letter explaining why I left and what I was going to go do.
I've kept in touch mostly by e-mail, sometimes a phone call or two; they never want to discuss it. They're waiting for me to 'get better', I think. They stopped writing as much when I told them about being on hormone replacement therapy, and they didn't even answer when I told them about my legal name change. Oh well.
To answer your question, the "one ugly girl" comment- my mom used it a few times, I think, it really felt a lot of times like she was trying to stomp my personality out of existence, with little insults and guilt trips and things like that, other comments of that sort- came in those awkward years between 13 and 18. When they probably knew what was going on, but liked to pretend I was getting better and that they'd cleared some of it up by putting the 'fear of god' in me or whatever.
Other than a negative reaction (read: severe constipation) to spironolactone (my anti-androgen- testosterone blocker), my transition is going great, though; I'm out to my employers and work as female, my legal first name is Jennifer, and my middle name Mallory, now (last name withheld for privacy, of course), I have a ton of awesome clothes (mostly from the thrift store, some from Wal Mart- both have great, cheap clothes), and my body shape is improving and my breasts are developing and I'm looking into an orchiectomy/other alternatives to spironolactone. I'm also looking into undergoing the full surgery sometime within the next 5 years.
Most importantly, I feel great, like I'm being me, and like things are considerably less wrong now! Who cares what mom and dad wanted me to be; I'm
me, and I'm really happy now.
