Be a girl

I wasn’t too excited for the school holidays. Partly because I no longer had friends with whom I could spend time, and partly because the first couple days were at mum’s house. James was all too unhappy about that fact as well. No surprises there.

We spent most of the weekend playing board games with aunty Miranda, which was alright, but it didn’t make up for us being in the presence of our mother. Eventually though, the weekend came to a close, and we were both free to finally relax. James was particularly pleased about being able to spend the next five whole days as a boy; he’d only had afternoons and evenings on weekdays during the school term for that. However, dad still had work, so he wasn’t home during the daytime and didn’t return until a little after five in the evening. That left me to look after James, but I didn’t mind that too much. We mostly just played video games together.

One day, whilst dad was at work, the doorbell rang, interrupting my gaming session with James. I didn’t particularly want to answer it, but it was unfortunately necessary. I knew exactly who it was, and I wasn’t really in the mood to talk to her.

I opened the door to reveal Claire standing on the other side, staring down at me nervously, holding a packet in her hand. She asked how I was doing, but I gave her an annoyed huff in place of an actual answer. She smiled awkwardly, then handed me the present she had bought for my dad. I paid her what she was owed (it was supposed to be a present from me after all) and begrudgingly thanked her. She had pre-wrapped the gift for me, which I very much appreciated because I would have, in dad’s words, made a dog’s breakfast of it.

She also handed me instructions. I wouldn’t have thought an undergarment would require instructions, but apparently this so-called binder did. At first, I thought they were special instructions on how to don the binder, but a quick glance revealed that they were actually safety instructions. I supposed that made sense. It was designed to flatten one’s chest, so I imagined it would have to be rather tight fitting.

Claire asked if she could come inside, but I said no. She gave me sad puppy-dog eyes, but I was unwavering. With a despondent goodbye, she turned and walked away, dejected. I watched her for a brief time, before closing the door.

I placed the present under my bed, out of the way, where dad wouldn’t see it. I decided to rewrite the instructions Claire had given me so that it looked like the present had come from me, since she had already convinced dad that it was my idea. When I was done, I slipped the rewritten note inside the same envelope as the card I’d bought dad. I placed it with the wrapped gift under my bed, then proceeded to distract myself to get it out of my mind. I’d be finding out if dad liked the present on his birthday, so there was no use worrying about it now.

Mum was kind enough to allow both James and me to stay at dad’s place on Saturday – which pleased James immensely – given that it was dad’s birthday. I didn’t know what it took for dad to convince mum to allow that, but I hoped she was reasonable enough to not require much. Dad wouldn’t tell me though, even if I were to ask. It wasn’t important anyway. What mattered was that Saturday was at dad’s.

I woke up nervous. Claire’s present wasn’t exactly cheap. She had insisted that the binder would help dad feel better, by making him feel more at home in his body. I was hesitant to believe her, but I figured it was at least worth a shot. Worst case scenario, dad didn’t like it and I was down some cash. Best case was that Claire was right and the present made dad feel more comfortable. As such, I considered the potential upsides to outweigh the potential downsides.

I grabbed the present out from under my bed, took a deep breath, and made my way to the kitchen. Dad was making himself a morning coffee when I arrived, while James was nowhere to be seen. I assumed he was still in bed; it was still quite early. Dad gave me a soft smile and a short morning greeting, which I returned.

I wished him a happy birthday and held out the gift for him to take. He gladly accepted it and thanked me. In typical dad fashion, he ignored the present and went straight for the envelope. Pulling out the contents, he immediately noticed the note I’d placed inside, rather intrigued.

“What’s this?” he asked, displaying the tiny slip of paper for me to see.

“It’s instructions for your present,” I explained.

He raised an eyebrow, turned the note over and read it out loud. “One: don’t wear binder for more than eight hours at a time. Two: don’t wear binder to bed. Three: don’t wear binder while exercising. Four: remove binder before showering. Five: don’t wear binder while swimming. Six: have fun.”

“That last one was Claire’s idea,” I said.

“I’m a little confused as to how one would wear a binder,” dad said, looking rather baffled.

“It’s uhh, not that kind of binder. You’ll um, see.”

“Alright.” He paused and glanced over at the wrapped package he’d placed on the kitchen counter. “I take it this is the present you needed my bra size for?”

I nodded with a blush. I wished he didn’t have to remind me of that awkward moment where Claire asked him his bra size.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, looking somewhat remorseful.

“For what?” I asked, tilting my head in confusion.

He stared at me strangely, then shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.” I gave him a confused look but otherwise said nothing.

He picked up the wrapped gift off the counter and carefully removed the wrapping paper. Despite this supposedly being a present from me, this was the first time I’d actually seen the binder. Dad held it up to inspect it closely, turning it around a few times to get a better look. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. It looked like a short vest that would only cover the wearer’s chest. It also looked to be a size too small, but I supposed that was probably by design.

I figured now was a good time to give a brief explanation of the binder’s purpose, since it wasn’t immediately obvious just by looking at it. “It’s uhh, supposed to flatten your chest. To make it look like you um, don’t have um…” I trailed off, simply too embarrassed to say the final word, hoping dad would guess it from context.

It was now dad’s turn to blush. “Oh! That’s um, very thoughtful of you.” He pointed out of the kitchen with his thumb. “How ‘bout I go try it on?” I nodded and he smiled awkwardly before heading off to his bedroom. I let out a sigh of relief. That went rather well, though I still had to wait for him to put on the binder before I would find out if he truly enjoyed his present.

He spent quite a while getting changed in his room. Long enough that James had woken up and wandered into the kitchen, wondering where dad was. He went off to make himself some cereal after I briefly explained that dad was getting dressed. I stayed in the kitchen with James while he ate, waiting anxiously for dad to return.

Eventually, dad came back into the kitchen. He hadn’t just put on the binder however, no, he was also wearing some of his old clothes from before he’d been transformed. They hung off him very loosely, far too big for him now. But he didn’t seem to care, based on the wide grin he sported. He posed confidently, with his hands firmly on his hips.

Most notably, his chest was actually flat, there being no indication that he had breasts. It filled me with relief, seeing my dad like this. Not only was it obvious that he liked Claire’s gift, but he was also genuinely happy for the first time in what felt like forever. It brought a smile to my face. After everything he’d been through these past few months, he definitely deserved this.

“What do you think?” dad asked, splaying his arms out and twisting around a bit to show off his outfit.

“I think your clothes are too big,” I remarked.

“I know,” dad pouted, “But I figured they were more appropriate given” – he rubbed both hands rapidly along his chest, up and down, several times, a wide grin on his face – “my chest is flat now!”

James opened his mouth wide and gasped. “How did you do that!?”

Dad beamed at his youngest child, returning to his earlier pose. “It was Ben’s birthday present to me.”

“Wait, Ben, you turned dad back into a boy but not me!?”

I wasn’t the only one who blushed because of James’ comment. It was a reasonable conclusion for him to jump to, given he was only a kid. Of course, he was wrong, as much as the three of us might have wished he weren’t.

Thankfully, dad answered so that I didn’t have to. “Well, no,” he said, nervously scratching at the back of his head. “Ben just got me something that flattens my chest. I haven’t gotten my old body back sadly.”

“Oh,” James said, dejected. He hung his head and began picking at his cereal idly with his spoon.

“Hey, it’s ok,” dad said reassuringly, walking over to James at the kitchen counter. He placed his finger underneath James’ chin and lifted it. James let go of the spoon, leaving it in the bowl, and looked dad in the eyes. “I know your mother insists on you being a girl, but I promise that if you keep taking your medication, you won’t ever grow into a body like mine. No matter what your mother tries, I won’t let that happen. Just hold out for me, ok?”

“Ok…” James said with a small nod, sounding wholly unconvinced. Dad smiled and ruffled James’ hair.

He took a step back from the counter and returned to the pose from earlier with his hands resting confidently on his hips. He beamed at the two of us sitting down. “I can already tell today is going to be a good day.” Well, he definitely liked the present. That was a huge relief. “I don’t just like the present, Ben, I love it!” dad beamed.

That was good. All that worry turned out to be for naught. Not that I considered that a bad thing. Dad being happy for once was all that mattered. It was amazing how such a simple item could return some of the light to my father’s eyes. I smiled, genuinely for once. “I’m glad.”

“Alright you two,” he said, clapping his hands then rubbing them together. “You’ll need to get ready soon; your uncle Bill is coming over today, and I want you both looking nice.”

I sighed internally, not wanting to show it to dad. Looking nice meant wearing a button-up shirt, something I really didn’t like. I’d worn them more than enough at my old school, and I was glad that my current school only required us to wear a polo shirt. Only a marginal improvement, but an improvement nonetheless. Still, I wouldn’t be saying no. It was dad’s birthday, and he wanted me to look nice; I wouldn’t deny him that. He didn’t need me being difficult on a day that was supposed to be joyous.

I riffled through my cupboard, where my eyes briefly caught a glimpse of Izzy’s dress. I immediately shoved it to the side, trying my best to ignore its existence. A subtle temptation tickled my core, but I shook my head and expelled those thoughts. That was the last thing I should have been thinking about.

I grabbed the first long sleeve button-up shirt I found: a simple shirt with thin white and blue vertical stripes. Good enough. After buttoning it up, I put on my black pants and my dress shoes. I looked at myself in the mirror and immediately regretted it. I looked pretty awful, but this was the best I was ever going to get. Dad knew my appearance wasn’t going to get better than this, so I doubted that he’d complain. Still, I averted my eyes from my reflection rather quickly.

Except I was wrong. Dad still complained about my attire, much to my chagrin. Apparently, my shirt needed an iron. I didn’t see it. Unfortunately for him, I didn’t know how, since I’d never learnt. He shook his head at me, disappointed, before asking me to follow him to the laundry and remove my shirt. He explained that being able to iron a shirt was an important life skill, and that I couldn’t just rely on someone else to do it for me from now on.

He ran me through the process of ironing my shirt, and I loathed every moment of it. It just seemed so pointless. I didn’t care. So what if my shirt had a few wrinkles in it? It didn’t matter. However, I gritted my teeth and followed his instructions only because it was his birthday. My brain purged this information the moment I finished, as I wouldn’t be ironing any more shirts henceforth. At least the shirt was warm when I put it back on.

Uncle Bill arrived with his kids around midday, and I made sure to put on my gloves securely. It was a little strange wearing them around the house, but they were a necessity. Besides, after months of wearing them for hours on end at school, I had become accustomed to wearing them for extended periods, so it wasn’t too bad.

I hovered over dad as he opened the front door to allow my uncle and cousins into the house. “Happy birthday,” they all said. The kids didn’t stick around, hurrying inside the house, no doubt looking for my little brother. Bill stuck around to chat with my father. I remained beside dad, refraining from speaking.

“You’re looking a little better than you did at Christmas,” Bill noted.

Dad chuckled a little. “Yes, well, Ben gave me a present which makes me feel much more like myself.” He lightly slapped his chest a couple of times and grinned. His brother smiled back. Suddenly, dad scoffed. “I know, I know. My clothes are too big,” dad said exasperatedly.

“I didn’t say anything,” Bill replied, raising his hands in the air defensively.

“Oh,” dad said, “Well, you were thinking it.”

“I can’t deny that. But why wear clothes that don’t fit?”

Dad sighed. “I’ve just gotten sick of wearing women’s clothes for so long, and damn it! It’s my birthday!” He rubbed at his chin briefly. “Maybe I should buy some men’s clothes in my new size…” he muttered.

“Fair enough…” Bill said, trailing off, and leaving the three of us in a somewhat awkward silence. Thankfully, he broke it soon after. “How are you, Ben?”

“Alright,” I shrugged. A standard greeting. He wasn’t getting more than that.

“Looks like you’re getting overdue for a haircut.”

I frowned. I did not want to get a haircut. I was quite enjoying the ability to grow my hair out for once in my life. Quite frankly, I was sick of comments on the length of my hair, which I’d been receiving for most of my adolescence at this point. I hadn’t gotten it cut in months now, and it had grown well past my ears. The teachers at my old school would be frothing at the mouth if they saw me now.

“You don’t have to get your hair cut if you don’t want to,” dad said. He was looking at me with a comforting smile. I nodded. That was a relief. It seemed likely that mum would comment on my hair soon enough, but I was grateful that my father had no issue with me growing it out. “Don’t listen to your mother,” he added. Good advice.

“Did you want to come inside?” dad offered his brother, pressing his body against the hallway wall to clear passage through the door and gesturing deeper inside the house.

Bill nodded and we all walked to the family room together. “I must admit,” Bill said, looking down at his older brother, “it’s still strange seeing you like this. Even if you look a little more like yourself than last time.”

“Ugh,” dad grumbled, shaking his head, “it’s still strange being like this.”

“I can only imagine.”

We arrived in the family room shortly. Dad offered Bill a coffee, then set off to the kitchen to make the beverage. The kids had already taken over the tv playing video games, having a blast by the looks of things. I sat down on one of the lounges and sighed.

Dad returned in a few minutes carrying two mugs of coffee, handing one to his brother. The two chatted amongst themselves while watching the kids play video games together. I kept silent throughout the entire day. I was happy for dad. He was enjoying himself on his birthday, and that was what mattered. But having to wear this awful awful outfit was getting on my nerves, more than it usually did. It made it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

Dad pulled me aside after his brother’s family had left and asked me if I was ok. I gave him the usual lie, saying that I was fine, but it was obvious even to me that he wasn’t convinced. Why would he be? I was a terrible liar, and my discomfort was clearly painted on my face.

“You don’t have to wear that shirt in the future, if you don’t want to,” he said.

Wait, really?

“Really.”

Huh?

“Yeah,” dad said. “Listen, I saw how uncomfortable you were today, wearing that, and it pained me. I know what it’s like to wear clothes that make your skin crawl, and I don’t want you to suffer like that. So, I won’t make you wear anything you don’t want to in the future.”

“Thanks.”