I am not a boy!

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Once upon a time there was a little boy called Jeremy, but that was a silly name because he was really a she in disguise and her secret name was Chloe...

I am not a boy!

by

Susan Brown

Angel

Once upon a time there was a little boy called Jeremy, but that was a silly name, because he was really a she in disguise, and her secret name was Chloe. We will call her Chloe even though others always called her Jeremy.

Chloe lived with her mummy and daddy in a nice cottage on the sea front called Shell Cottage. Chloe loved Shell Cottage, with its ivy and sea shells embedded on and in the walls, and she loved her bedroom too, but not as much as she could have because it was a boy’s blue bedroom and of course, she was a girl and wanted pink or lilac. Mind you, her bedroom overlooked the cove and the sand and the headland, and there were always things going on. In the summer lots of people went on the beach and there were plenty of brightly coloured boats bobbing about on the sea. In the winter the weather could be a bit frightening and the waves huge, but it was still fun and exciting to look at the waves crashing on the headland and the wind whipping up the sea.

Although Chloe lived in a nice place and went to the local infant's school at the top of the hill and had a nice time generally, she wasn’t as happy as she could be. The problem was that her mummy and daddy kept on telling her that she was a he and his name was Jeremy. Everyone at school called her Jeremy, too. It was most annoying. Even though she sometimes said to everyone that she was a girl, no one took any notice and insisted that she was not a girl but a boy called Jeremy. They taunted her and called her names and it made her cry sometimes. At other times, Chloe would get a bit angry and stamp her foot in a girlie sort of way. She would often go to the dress up box– even though everyone said that she (or rather annoyingly, he) was getting too old for such things–and get out a dress and put it on. People laughed at her but she didn’t care. She was happy in a dress and that was that.

Sometimes when the other children were horrid to her she felt like running away, but soon she developed a shell like a tortoise and she just either ignored them or stuck her tongue out. She was lucky that bullying wasn’t allowed at the school, otherwise she would have had a harder time, but as it was, she was sometimes pinched and had her admittedly slightly too long hair for a boy, pulled. It was something that she put up with but never liked very much.

One day, Chloe was off school because she had had a cold. She was over it now, but Mummy thought, ‘another day off–just in case.’

Chloe was feeling a bit fed up and bored. She was particularly fed up with wearing horrid boys’ t-shirts and shorts. She kept asking her mummy if she could have some nice dresses, skirts and other girl’s clothes but each time she asked, Mummy said, ‘No!’ as boys called Jeremy wear boys clothes.

‘But Mummy, I am a girl!’

‘No dear, you are a boy.’

‘I have nice long hair and...’

‘I think we need to get your hair cut...’

‘...No Mummy!’ she wailed, ‘please let me keep my hair!

‘Hmm, we’ll see; Daddy thinks it makes you look like a girl. Look honey bunch ...’

‘But I am a girl!’

‘Oh Jeremy...’

‘It’s not Jeremy; it’s Chl...oh never mind. I am a girl and I want to wear girls’ clothes and have some dollies and have tea parties and be as pretty as I can be.’

Mummy sighed and looked down at her only child who by now was quite tearful, and had to have a hug before she went off upstairs to play in her room.

‘Something is not quite right here,’ she thought. Looking back she could see that for as long as she could remember, Jeremy didn’t seem quite happy with himself and had times when he was looking out to space and mumbling to himself, almost as if he was holding some sort of inner conversation with himself. At one time she thought that Jeremy had an imaginary friend and that worried her. She confided in her husband who shrugged his shoulders and said that it was just a stage that Jeremy was going through and that he would grow out of it.

She sighed, rubbed the bridge of her nose and smiled ruefully remembering the conversation that she once had with her mother. ‘Well Anne, being a parent is sometimes like walking on a tightrope, long, thin and a bit wobbly, but if you are good, you make it to the other side.’

She smiled at the memory and now understood what Mum meant. She made herself a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table dunking a Hobnob absent mindedly, miles away with her thoughts.

On an impulse, she put her cup down and then crept upstairs; skilfully missing the step that creaked half way up as she didn’t want to be heard.

She tip-toed to the end of the passage where Jeremy’s room was and as the door was shut, she knelt down and put her eye to the keyhole.

She could see some of the room but not all of it, but slightly to the side she could see Jeremy sitting on the floor, cross legged. She gasped as she saw that Jeremy was wearing a blouse that she had put in the wash bin the previous night. It was long enough to look like a dress on Jeremy. He had a doll in front of him and he was holding on to it tightly. The doll, she recognised as one of the ones from school. Jeremy must have taken it and had hid it away so that no one could find it.

Jeremy started to rock the doll and quietly sang a little song; it was 'rock a bye baby'.

Mummy was going to go in and tell Jeremy off, and then she stopped herself as he looked up for the first time–he was crying.

Mummy’s heart melted. She loved her little boy more than life itself. She could only have one child because the doctors said that she couldn’t have any more after the terrible experiences at the birth of their son, so she and Mark, her husband poured all their love into that little boy who was sitting cross legged on the floor in her blouse and holding onto that doll.

She felt like going in and giving Jeremy a big hug but then thought differently. She might frighten him or maybe make things worse.

As it was, she quietly got up and went downstairs feeling undecided. Eventually, she hesitantly picked up the phone and pressed some buttons.

‘Hi Mark, it’s Anne. Look we have a problem with Jeremy–I can’t speak on the phone. Can you come home early–it’s important.

‘Yes love. I just have a few bits to clear up and I should be home in an hour. He’s not hurt is he?’

‘No love, don’t worry, just get here as soon as possible–please!’

‘All right love, see you soon. Love you.’

‘You too honey. Be here as soon as you can but drive carefully, I don’t want any more problems!’

‘Anne, stop worrying, I’ll get there as soon as possible–bye.’

‘Bye love.’

Anne put the phone down and then after looking through a telephone book, picked up the phone again and pressed some numbers.

‘Doctor's surgery, can I help?’

‘Hi Dawn, its Anne Phelps.’

‘Hi Anne, how are you?’

‘Fine thanks. Look I need to make an urgent appointment for Jeremy...’

‘All right; can you tell me what it’s about?’

‘I’d rather not on the phone. Is Julia available?’

‘She has a full list until four, but we can fit you I after that.’

‘Four thirty would be fine if that’s all right.’

‘Four thirty it is. Just one thing, he’s not in pain or anything?’

‘No...well not that sort of pain. Anyway we’ll bring him up at four thirty; see you then.’

‘Okay love, bye.’

Anne put the phone down and stared into the distance. Then she got up and went to the door, calling up she said, ‘Jeremy, get cleaned up. It’s lunch time in ten minutes.’

‘Okay Mummy,’ came the faint reply that sounded as if Jeremy was still a bit upset.

Anne hoped that the ten minutes would give Jeremy time to make himself presentable.

~*~

Sadly, Chloe put the doll back in her special place at the back of the wardrobe under a pile of hated boys’ clothes that were too small for use. Then she took off the blouse, sighing as she always did when she had to go back to looking like a boy. She went into the bathroom put the blouse back in the wash bin and then washed her face. She didn’t want Mummy to see that she had been crying as she had been told at school by Billy Rivers that boys don’t cry.

Well, she wasn’t a boy and had never been one. Ever since she could remember she had always known that she was a girl. Little boys liked rough and tumble–she didn’t. Boys didn’t mind getting dirty–she did. Oh sometimes she did get dirty, like when she played on the swing and then fell off once grazing her knee and landing in a muddy puddle. She couldn’t wait to get all cleaned up again after that accident!

Chloe liked to help Mummy with cooking and cleaning, although she wasn’t much good yet, and Mummy wouldn’t let her get near the stove. She did help mixing cakes and making biscuits; it was fun! Not many boys wanted to do things like that.

‘Jeremy, come and get your lunch!’

‘Yes Mummy,’ she said, frowning because Jeremy wasn’t her real name, it was Chloe– but there again, Mummy didn’t know her real and secret name and if she found out then she might get told off.

~*~

Chloe went downstairs wearing a clean t-shirt and shorts different from the ones she was wearing earlier, because she felt that the morning’s clothes were grubby. They weren’t, but Chloe hated the thought of wearing anything dirty.

Mummy sighed her usual sigh thinking ‘more washing,’ but said nothing and they were soon eating their sandwiches; Mummy had a ham sandwich and Chloe a jam one. Mummy had yucky coffee and Chloe a glass of fresh cold milk.

Mummy looked as if she was going to say something to Chloe, but kept shaking her head and after a bit, concentrated on reading a glossy magazine. Chloe was in a bit of a dream world herself, thinking about what colours she liked and dreaming of going shopping with Mummy and buying some pretty girls clothes. She smiled at the thought of having a big bonfire and throwing all the yucky boys clothes on it.

After lunch Mummy said, ‘Do you want to go and play in the garden for a bit?’

‘No, I’ll go upstairs and play with my do...I mean read or something.’

‘Do you still feel a bit funny?’

‘No, I’m all right,’

She felt Chloe’s brow; it didn’t seem hot anymore.

‘All right dear, off you go.’

Mummy watched her child go up the stairs and wondered what to do about the problem. On an impulse she had a look on her computer and looked at a few sites. Some of them were not suitable, and a few were a bit nasty, but eventually she found a site that seemed to be the sort of thing she was looking for...

~*~

Chloe was lying on her bed. She wanted to borrow some of Mummy’s clothes, but knew that she might get caught. She had been silly earlier when she decided to put on that dress thingie of mummy’s but she felt that she had to do it. She wanted to play with her dolly, too, but that would have to wait until bed time when she knew that she would be able to sneak it out from her secret hiding place and at least give her a cuddle for a little while. Chloe hated to leave Dolly in the dark closet, but she had sat her doll down and explained things to her. Dolly didn’t say anything, but Chloe could tell by the look on her face that she understood and wouldn’t make a sound or anything whilst she was hiding. She knew that her doll would have to go back to school soon, but hoped that she might be able to stay with Chloe for a few more days.

Chloe looked at one of her Janet and John books for a while and then probably because she hadn’t been very well, her eyes closed and she went to sleep dreaming of being a fairy princess with long golden hair that matched her long golden dress...

She didn’t hear the car draw up outside or the front door opening. She was sound asleep whilst her parents spoke in hushed tones downstairs in the pretty little sitting room overlooking the garden and the sea beyond.

The noisy seagulls on the roof above didn’t wake her as they galloped up and down the roof and practiced take offs and landings.

She didn’t even wake up as Mummy and Daddy came into the room, and after a few moments searching in the closet, sat either side of her on the bed.

Chloe was on a silver white pony, galloping over the sand. The sea was blue and her lovely long hair was streaming out behind her. Her long flowing dress was billowing in the wind and she felt happy, alive and so much the girl she really was...

‘Jeremy.’

A hand had touched her bare shoulder and she came crashing down to earth. Opening her eyes, the smile faded from her face as she realised that her dream wasn’t true. She wasn’t on a wonderful pony wearing those beautiful clothes. She was dressed in a boys t-shirt and shorts and everyone thought that she was Jeremy.

Her eyes widened as she saw, in Mummy’s arms...Dolly!

Chloe looked at Mummy and Daddy, realised that she had been very naughty, and then burst into tears.

In moments, they were all hugging and Chloe cried her heart out. She cried because she had borrowed Dolly without permission. She cried because she didn’t know if her parents loved her any more. She cried because she was a girl and not a boy and finally, she cried because no one would listen and understand.

Twenty minutes later, they were in the kitchen. Chloe was clutching Dolly as if her life depended on her. She had a glass of milk and a Hobnob and dunked the biscuit in the milk before she ate it. She liked the squishy taste, even though her Mummy and Daddy didn’t seem quite so keen on the idea. They were drinking tea and munching on Rich Tea Finger biscuits.

After a few moments Mummy coughed and then looked at Chloe.

‘Look Jeremy, we know that you aren’t happy dear. Why don’t you tell us all about it?

Suddenly the Hobnob tasted like cardboard. Chloe knew somehow that she had to tell the truth and she was frightened that they might shout at her. She looked at Daddy. He was always nice and kind to her and rarely shouted at her–he did once, but that was because Chloe broke his golf club cup and tried to hide it under the carpet–not a good idea.

Then there was Mummy, she looked a bit upset and her eyes were watering. Had she been peeling onions again?

Chloe swallowed and then looked at her Dolly who seemed to be giving the impression that she ought to tell them everything.

Chloe took a deep breath and then without looking up told them all about it.

‘I kept telling you that I was a girl and you said always that I wasn’t a girl. I have always been a girl. I thought that you must need glasses as you couldn’t see it. Ever since I was little I have been a girl. Boys are yucky and dirty and like to play rough. I hate playing rough and I hate being dirty. I love being able to be me–a girl. I want to wear girls’ clothes, dresses and things. I don’t want to be a boy ‘cos I never have been one. When I am dressed like a boy, I think that it’s like playing pretend. Everyone says that I’m a boy and I might look a bit like one but I’m not really. I’m a girl and you shouldn’t make me look like a boy. Dolly thinks I should be able to be a girl and she knows that I want this more than anything. I took her from school as she was the only one to understand me. The teachers and other kids all say that I am silly and shouldn’t be so girly, but I am a girl so how can I be anything else? I’m sorry I took Dolly away. I was going to take her back real soon, but she helps me be me.’

With that Chloe started crying. She waited for the shouting to begin. She didn’t think that they would hit her like George’s parents did with him. Chloe had seen the bruises on George’s arms, and they looked horrible...

Suddenly she was in the arms of her Mummy. Chloe loved the smell of Mummy. She had a nice scent and it reminded her of lavender and the countryside.

Daddy was talking.

‘Jeremy are you really sure that you are a girl?’

‘Yes Daddy.’

‘All right honey. We have an appointment with the doctor later, and she will see if we can help you.’

Mummy moved away slightly and looked down on Chloe.

‘You know that it might be hard to be a girl when everyone thinks that you are a boy?’

‘That’s all right; when people see me in a pretty dress, they won’t ever think that I’m not a girl.’

‘Okay Jeremy, we’ll see the doctor and then we can decide what is best for you; is that all right?’

‘Yes Mummy as long as she says I can be a girl and stop pretending then I will be happy.’

Daddy looked at Chloe and smiled.

‘Whatever happens Jeremy, we will be here for you.’

‘Thanks Daddy, but...’

‘But what love?’

‘My...my real name is Chloe.’

‘Chloe!’ said Mummy with a gasp.

‘Yes...Chloe.’

Mummy turned white suddenly and looked at Daddy with wide eyes.

‘Did you tell her?’

‘No.’

‘Well I didn’t.’

‘What is it, Mummy?’

She looked at Chloe with wide eyes brimming with tears.

‘Honey, we were going to tell you when you were older, but when you were born you had a twin. She didn’t survive. Her...her name was Chloe.’

Chloe looked up at her parents and looked sad.

‘I had a sister?’

‘Yes dear.’

‘Called Chloe?’

‘Yes.’

Chloe looked thoughtful for a minute and then smiled.

‘There you are then. Chloe is me and I’m Chloe.’

‘But Jeremy...’ said Daddy.

Chloe looked up at her Daddy and smiled.

‘Not Jeremy, Daddy, Chloe...always and forever.’


THE END

Please leave comments and do the kudo-thingie...thanks! ~Sue

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Comments

This reminds me of when I was little..

Andrea Lena's picture

...but I never had that conversation with my family.

In moments, they were all hugging and Chloe cried her heart out. She cried because she had borrowed Dolly without permission. She cried because she didn’t know if her parents loved her any more. She cried because she was a girl and not a boy and finally, she cried because no one would listen and understand.

I can only hope that the Jeremys of the world get to talk with their moms and dads before it's too late. What a sweet story Thank you!


Dio vi benedica tutti
Con grande amore e di affetto
Andrea Lena

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Emotional

Boy, that was a tearjerker! You really know how to twist the heart strings. Not to mention, deliver another, emotional, Twilight Zone little twist at the end.

Thanks for a fun read.

___________________
If a picture is worth 1000 words, this is at least part of my story.

I am not a boy!

Jeremy knew about his twin sister and wants to be her.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

*sniffle*

Jemima Tychonaut's picture

Darn you, I can barely see for the tears! V ery Well done and kudos-thingie.

 


"Just once I want my life to be like an 80's movie, preferably one with a really awesome musical number for no apparent reason. But no, no, John Hughes did not direct my life."



"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

Sniff

littlerocksilver's picture

Well, you got my tears going with that one. Sweet!

Girl.jpg
Portia

Portia

I ached when I read this!!!

/

A Nice ride around Manchester to finish off the Sparkle weekend.

Oh how I wish, just how I wish somebody like that had been around for me.

I wasn't a girl then, in fact I didn't realise there was a part of me that was transgendered until my fifties. Now Beverly has got Bevan as a close companion and between them and Bevan's wife Helen, they keep this body alive.

God! How I wish there had been parents like that for me!!!!!

Bev.

XZXX

bev_1.jpg

They say the age of reason begins about 3 years old.

It must be true because I remember my 3 year old birthday party even after all these years, but nothing before that. So Chloë had a sister named Chloë. The reincarnation of Chloë in Jeremy's body may not have been random, it may have been on purpose. To name one's self Chloë at that young age, is not something a child that young can fathom doing on purpose. I want to see what the doctor says when the parents tell him or her that their "son" picked Chloë as her girl name by herself without them telling her she had a sister who had died. This story made my heart melt when she kept saying she was a girl, and nobdy would listen. My heart melted even more and achill ran up my back and a lump got caught in my throat when her mother said she had a sister by that name who had died. You wrote this very well and I love the tenderness that you used in writing this.

But you must continue this because now it is just the beginning.

"With confidence and forbearance, we will have the strength to move forward."

Love & hugs,
Barbara

"If I have to be this girl in me, Then I have the right to be."

"With confidence and forbearance, we will have the strength to move forward."

Love & hugs,
Barbara

"If I have to be this girl in me, Then I have the right to be."

Not Sure About That

I know some people in their 50s for whom the age of reason has still not arrived. On the other extreme, I am not sure whether the ability to read has a lot to do with the coming of the age of reason, but by 3 I was reading already, though i can still recall events that had high impact on me from age 2 (not very nice events - being shot at as we fled down the steps to the tube, seeing bits of dismembered human bodies burning, being trapped in the dark in the rubble that had been our home...) I think with humans there is an extremely large variability in their reasonableness.

Polticians for example, are most UNreasonable !

Briar

Briar

When Starts The "Age of Reason" in a Child ?

Barbara, I doubt whether one can determine an age at which a baby becomes aware enough to think. I could be rude, and say that in my opinion most humans NEVER get to that age ! I do have a rather poor opinion of this horrid bipedal ape that has bred to such numbers that it now has become a Pest, being now way over the number that the planet it evolved on can sustain, and that is causing the extinction of many others, that has run out of the kind of game it used to hunt and now hunts and kills but not eats its own species for fun. There are indeed a few who are quite bright, but the species's best efforts go to developing ever more powerful weapons of mass destruction. That it DARES to label itself Homo "sapiens" is a disgrace - " stupidens" would be far more fitting.

My own experience suggests that when one becomes fully aware depends on what the environment throws at one. Being buried in a house when a bomb falls on it, at age 2, and being dug from the rubble after some hours trapped and choking in dust and smoke, kind of precipitates a child into a heightened state of awareness. Many children in these more pleasant times are so protected and molly-coddled, that they have no such stimulations to awaken their sleeping minds. The modern media, like the telly, and even much of the Internet, feeds a diet of pap which fails to stimulate Thought.

My own 2 daughters were interested to learn how to read long before they went to school - when they finally did, just before reaching 5 years, they annoyed the teachers enormously because they were better at it than them.

I was taught to read in one afternoon by my musician Uncle, who was reading the News of the World ( a now discontinued Sunday paper that had no news but lots of scandal in it) out loud to my Mummy, who was sewing some buttons on his shirts, as they had been ripped off when he was in prison for refusing to join the army during WW2, and I heard him say "It says here that..." and this aroused my curiosity so I asked "Where does it say that?" so he showed me and explained printed words to me and how me how to read them. From then on I walked to the nearest public library, proved I could read, and was allowed to have a library ticket and to take out three books a week. I read everything in the childrens' section and then went on to Adult Non-Fiction, which gave me a huge quantity of facts to think about, and made me a very awkward kid when I went to school because I could discuss everything from an informed point of view and could even teach the teachers !

Once a child can read, and get access to books, it can learn as much as it wants to.

Briar

Oh, I was just fine...

Until they found out what she named herself. Co-incedents, huh? Chloe is right, she's just Chloe, and always has been. '

Thanks for the tears, a great story!

Wren

Very sweet but it's a shame

Very sweet but it's a shame it ends there.

Lizzie :)

Yule

Bailey's Angel
The Godmother :p

Sweet story

It was very nice, I'm glad you didn't write more because it's better if the ending leaves our minds to take it where we want to.

I am not a boy!

Many thanks for all the comments and kudowhatsits.

I enjoyed writing it and it's nice to see that many people have enjoyed reading it.

Hugs
Sue

Oh! The nostalgia.

WebDeb's picture

I remember that first happy year in primary one infant class.
I loved the little wendy house tent in the corner of the classroom.
While the boys were off playing in the sandpit or sailing little boats in the water trough I was enjoying tea parties with the girls in our little playhouse.
Of course five year old children were not aware and did not judge gender stereotypes.
This lovely tale invokes so many personal memories of my infancy.
Thankyou Sue :) Now do you want a Rich Tea or a Jammy Dodger with your cuppa?

Seaside location?

Idle speculation: The settlement wouldn't happen to be called Penmarris by any chance? :) Now if it's set not too long before a certain person arrives... :)

But more seriously, there is recorded circumstantial evidence that some twins (I'd assume mainly identical, but I think it can happen with fraternal) share soem kind of extra-sensory 'bond', and can often sense the other's feelings / actions / emotions, even when separated. So one twin being 'imprinted' with the self-identity of their deceased sibling in the hours after birth probably isn't beyond the realms of possibility.

-oOo-

Technical aspects aside, a nice little tale - and with mum having presumably having discovered GID in her internet research, there's every possibility of a bright future ahead for Chloe.

 

Bike Resources

There are 10 kinds of people in the world - those who understand binary and those who don't...

As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!

I don't normally...

I don't normally read stories about kids of that age (despite having written one myself), but I made an exception, this time. Glad I did. :-) Quite a moving story! Thank you.

Anne

You made me cry.

*** It has been a long time since i cried. But you made me. I thought my heart was made of stone. But I find now that it is flesh and blood. Thank you so much for reminding me...Rebecca

I wonder Sue

I would like to believe there may have been a soul transfer on the death of the twin?

Stranger things have happened.

Great story.
LoL
Rita

Age is an issue of mind over matter.
If you don't mind, it doesn't matter!
(Mark Twain)

LoL
Rita

Can not say anything

RAMI

it hard to make a new comment when the previous ones cover what you want to say. That prety much happens when you are 3 days late in reading a Sue Brown Story.

RAMI

RAMI

I ot a really great Idea for u?

Hi everyone Like being a sexy Crossdressing Male to Female & love all of ur Crossdressing stories.U should continue this story.It is a great story.I love this story.U should write more to this story too.

I cried when I read this

I love this and I wish my "mommy and daddy" would have listen to me. I cried when I read this.
Love and Hugs Hanna
girl_and_her_coffee3.jpg

Love And Hugs Hanna
((((((((♥)))))))((((((((♥)))))))((((((((♥)))))))((((((((♥)))))))((((((((♥)))))))
Blessed Be
2889.jpg

awwwww

This was so cute. This could have been me, if I told my mom when I was 4. But because of my abusive dad, I didn't. I so wish I was Chloe.
name.png

name.png

ouch

too much like a true story. Our grandchildren-twins-were born 9 years ago TODAY. Jan4 will be the 9th anniv of his death. She survives and the family did the same ritual they do every year on their birthday. Ouch.

A bit different.

Angharad's picture

Twins seem to have some invisible bond so is it possible for the survivor to know instinctively about the other? I suppose it all depends upon when the embryo splits in two to form heterozygous twins and they were fertilised with different sperm?

Angharad