I stare in the bathroom mirror and place my hands to my breasts. Too big, I think. I move my hands to my waist next, to frail, I tell myself. I continue this pattern, moving from body-part to body-part. A toxic habit of mine.
After about ten minutes of thoroughly hating the body I was given, I turn my attention to the clothes laid out for my own the dark wooden shelf sitting behind the toilet. Now that I live alone I can at least choose how I cover my body. Back when I lived with mom, she would insist on picking out my clothes everyday like I was six. And trust me, they never felt right on me. Sure they were comfortable(about 1/4th of the time), but they just never felt like me. She once sent me to school in a frilly pink gown that looked like it was made for a toddler to play dress up. I, being able to choose my own clothes for once, throw on my favorite baggy hoodie and some sweatpants. The hoodie is a plain black hoodie with a large pocket in the front. For some reason it makes me feel better about myself. Maybe it's cause it hides my breasts better, I am not completely sure. The sweatpants I wear to make me look bulkier and more... manly I suppose?
My hair falls in red cascades neatly down my back, the ends touching the bottom of my waist line. I pull it up into a high ponytail and tuck it into the back of my hoodie.
Slowly, I step out of the bathroom and into the small hallway of my apartment. The walls are painted a sickly shade of yellow and I make a mental note to repaint it. I make my way to my room and gasp at how bright it is. I always forget how bright this room can get. I immediately shut off the lights and open the curtains just enough so I can still see.
Looking over at my alarm clock on my nightstand I gasp once more. I'm gonna be late for school! It's not like I necessarily want to go, but I can't afford to miss school. Not if I want to keep my job. And without my job I can't keep this apartment. And I DO NOT want to go back to my parents house. Not after everything they said to me.
A vision of my fathers rough and calloused hands raised, ready to hit me, pops into my brain like the plague. I shake off the feeling of the sting I felt that day and grab my backpack from next to my twin sized bed. I feel the weight of it holding my laptop and books as I swing the strap over one of my shoulders and begin my walk to school. Or rather... my skate to school. I pick up my skateboard from by the door and slide it onto the road before jumping on it and riding down the street feeling the breeze rush past me. I rarely feel like this. Like I am truly alive. Not just surviving... but living.
And to my dismay I am cut off by the familiar parking lots full of expensive cars and groups of girls chatting in their respective groups. I feel their stares dig into my back as I walk to the large double doors and lean against the frame with my skateboard at my side.
And then I see the outline of a pink dress flying through the crowd. The owner of such an atrocity is unknown to me, but I can see the vivid shade of baby pink with frilly short sleeves and a skirt that ends just above her knees. Then I see the face to the dress and I can't believe my eyes. I see a boys face. He has short black hair that is clearly a boys cut but that is not all that strikes me head on. His eyes are a blue so vivid it puts the dress to shame. Black leggings trail up his thighs and his feet are finished off with some white heels. A pink butterfly hair clips adorns his hair and perfectly matches his dress.
It is worse then an eyesore to me. It is an absolute revulsion. So much pink should be illegal, and that dress looks just like an old one I used to be forced into. The one that made me look like a three year old little girl. And he looks no different.
In the blink of an eye all the eyes that were glued to me are now attached to this strange boy, who I see is now heading straight for the doors where I stand. And then suddenly he has me tumbling onto my side as he scrambles to pick up the books that flew from his unzipped bag.
"I-I'm so sorry! Oh God are you hurt! Please don't be hurt, I would hate to have to call an ambulance on my first day!"
"Hey, chill man. I'm fine so no harm no foul, right?"
He flinches at my use of the term man but shakes it off and stares at me blankly for a moment before standing up on shaky legs and offering me his hand. "So, you're new I presume? But if I may ask, what's with the whole..." I pause for a moment gesturing to his whole being, "thing? Did you lose a bet or something?"
He laughs, a shaky uneven sound, clearly forced. "No, no. I just... prefer female clothing I guess."
"Ah, well, to each their own I suppose?" I smile gently at him and watch as his posture gradually softens and he becomes less rigid. "Oh, and I'm Angelica by the way." I grimace at my own name before cutting back in, "But call me Anj!"
He plasters back on a big toothy grin before answering. "Got it Anj! I'm Marcus..."
I watch his face contort just like mine did as he speaks his name. "Is there... something you'd rather me call you?"
"Well yes, but never around my parents... they hate how girly I am. But anyways! Call me Mei!"
I offer a curt nod of approval. "Understood, Mei." His face lights up at the name I just called him. Clearly he isn't used to people respecting his opinions.
ns216.73.216.134da2
and then Add to home screen.