The alarm buzzes at 8 o’clock on the dot like always. The body rustles and wakens to the noise and proceeds to the leave the overly long bed it once dwelled.
The creature lumbers to the wash room and turns the light switch on, opening eyes to the light. Brushing back thick, short hair reveals the face of a woman: chubby, round and cute, trying so hard to be what he really is. The shower turns on hard, but clothes come off easily. He shudders at the sight of his own body, but must push through to be clean for the day to come. Washing is hard, passing curves and parts never wished for or wanted. The water stops and the body leaves the warmth of the room and moves uncomfortably back to the bedroom for clothes. Drawers move and clothes are pieced together to create some sort outfit: shirt, short pants, boxers, binder and socks.
“Good morning,” a moan comes from the next bed over. Basically inaudible, but hearing it every morning he answers, “Good morning, love.” The one thing keeping him sane, his true love.
A young woman leaves the bed and moves slowly and gracefully over to him. She leans in and pecks the end of his nose with a kiss. Her body towers over him, with legs like lilies she beats his five-foot height with almost an extra twelve inches. She leaves for the wash as he contemplates the choice of shirt.
He struggles and fits his chest binder into place, worrying greatly that the binding will give him a “uniboob” or give the world a view he doesn’t want them to know or see. He places the “bulge” in his boxers using socks, the only thing he has that can replace what he doesn’t.
His love moves naked through the room, seemingly ignoring her plight which so mirrors his own, to feel wrong in the body she was given. He finds comfort in her cherishing of this “fake man.”
He watches her don a thin, black dress, finishing with his own clothes. She twirls in a girly fashion for him, asking him how she looks. “Beautiful, as always,” he answers her, looking at his own feminine body once again, now clothed as manly as he can make it. His pants are tight and show the curves he hates. The shirt does not sit quite right, showing his overly fake peach colored binder. He looks up to the woman and asks the same, “How do I look?”
“Manly as always,” she replies, packing her things for the school day.
“I don’t feel it,” he turns away and hides his face in the shadows.
“Everything you do is manly in my eyes; you could be wearing a dress and I would still see you as the perfectly manly man you are,” she replied, holding his face in her thin hands. “I love you my boy, my man.”
He smiles and pulls away. “Okay, okay fine,” he says, this never truly believing it for he is called “ma’am” on a regular basis, but he says it for her sake because for she believes it truly in the golden heart she possesses. They finish packing their bags and leave the room hand in hand, facing the world…
Being a transman in any situation can be difficult – even in something so simple as getting ready for the day. But at programs like KSC Pride, and OutSpoken, and places like the Office of Multicultural Student Support, one can find comfort and caring voices. These groups and communities are built for people like myself, and many others with different backgrounds, lives and problems – even something simple like getting ready for the day.
Pan-Lennon Harrison Jude Norkiewicz can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org