Ok, I know I’m a little backwards and I should have started from the beginning not where the dream kicks in, sorry about that. I started out this tale in Northern Salt Lake City Utah at the North Star Elementary but had to move due to two problems.

Due to the many Questions that my story The Dream has caused, I decided to write this. Hopefully it will explain some questions, but leave others for later chapters. It is about 2,100 words give or take a few but it should help.
Part 1 Chapter 2 should be up soon I just want to fine tune some areas.

My History

Ok, I know I’m a little backwards and I should have started from the beginning not where the dream kicks in, sorry about that. I started out this tale in Northern Salt Lake City Utah at the North Star Elementary but had to move due to two problems. Firstly, my mom couldn’t find a job that allowed her to work a schedule around me going to school and coming home. (mainly because ) She didn’t want to send me to a daycare while she worked, not to mention the added expense. (Moreover,) The second problem was with me, well not really me but the other children at school (with) and how they treated me.

I really don’t want to remember how I was verbally and emotionally terrorized as the other boys grew bigger and I didn’t. Mom even tried taking me to the doctor out there to find out what was wrong but he said that I was a late bloomer and I would eventually grow. (Man, I thought that doctors had to be smart!) He didn’t even do any tests; all he did was feel around my body then tell mom “There's (was) nothing to worry about” (his words not mine). Well that was four years ago and I still haven’t grown past the forty-eight pounds, three feet six inches; it seems like I just stopped growing.

Mom trying to do her best decided to move to Washington for a fresh start. She even found a special doctor for me, his name is Edward T. Goldman and he specializes in Genetics. Dr. Goldman was the first one to find out that I had PAIS or Partial Androgen (resistance) insensitivity syndrome; actually, he called it Reifenstein syndrome. This is one of a group of diseases where the body is unable to respond appropriately to the male sex hormones (androgens), which include testosterone. After finding this, he ordered an MRI of my abdomen but had the results withheld from me. Dr. Goldman says I have fragile bones and my muscles won’t develop normally, because of my genetics. He says that’s why I have so many problems and why I don’t have strength and muscles like the other boys. He goes on to explain to mom that this is relative to the drugs, she took during her pregnancy with me, and that it is not her fault. He stresses that nobody knew what the side effects if any would be and the risk was worth her taking the medication.

The move seemed to work out well during the summer but I knew the peace wouldn’t last after school started. Enough brooding I actually tried to make some friends during the summer. I just wasn’t honest with them about my real age and let them see what they wanted. A four-year-old kid that was trying to look ‘all grown up’, it would have worked except I had to register for the new school and that’s where all hell breaks loose…

It turns out one of my friend’s older brother was there and found out I was really in the fourth grade and was as smart if not smarter than some of the sixth graders that went to Evergreen Middle School. Life would never be the same. I know I am smart enough to skip to the next grade, but I don't want to. I enjoyed school (when I wasn’t being used as a dumping ground) and wanted the experience of working through every level not jumping ahead (yeah as if I NEEDED another reason to be the butt of EVERY joke) like the teachers wanted me to. I still managed to learn more things that I didn’t really understand well as I sat in class waiting for the rest of the students to catch up to me, (the only place that I am the fastest) and I had the grades to prove it. Not that it mattered to the rest of the class. Most of the others saw me as a freak. I was smart and small… the perfect target.

Another reason that I’m put down is that I had to have a note from the doctor so the teachers at school would let me go to the rest room right away and not wait. I was so embarrassed! However, I get to go right away and don’t have to risk any accidents at school. That would have been too much! Still there were many narrow escapes and there was this one time during lunch where I was forced to have an accident since some of the countless bullies had ganged up in the bathroom to waylay me. I was embarrassed beyond all belief about that because not only was I teased by the bullies in the bathroom, but during the miserable walk to the nurse’s office I heard every snide and rude comment not to mention the cat calls from every other student there. I wished the ground would open up at my feel then swallow me whole. I wanted to die, I was so embarrassed that I started to run away from all the laughing, jeering, and humiliation as fast as I could. However, that only made it worse as I wasn’t paying attention to where I was running and ran into the Principal himself! By this time, I was a blubbering mess and I couldn’t tell left from right. The Principal wound up carrying me to the nurse’s office and calling my mom to pick me up.
(No, I won’t go into any more detail about that as it still disturbs me today) I felt so alone, as if it was just me against the school, as if there were no helping hands held out to me.

Every hand that was held out to me had a price tag attached to it. Being an eleven year old boy trapped in a body the screamed to everyone else that I was a preschooler, made things that more difficult! Even my clothes did little to show my actual age. Try finding clothes in the toddler sizes that would help me look like an eleven-year-old boy. No way, you can't find them anywhere! The adults always assume what you appear to look like. They treat you accordingly, and that means they all treat you like a preschool toddler! That is until you let them know, or at least try to let them know. They will usually laugh and think you are fibbing, and they respond with a wink, a chuckle and smile, or just laugh and tell you you're a nutty kid.

When they find out you're telling them the truth, the men are very uncomfortable, and tend to ignore you. The women just love you and want to baby you just the same. They can't help themselves! The girls want to treat you like their own living baby doll, and the boys treat you as if you’re a freak, ignore you completely, shun you and ban you from hanging with them. The worst of the worse will do everything and anything to humiliate you privately and publicly. These bad ones are both boys and girls. The girls are the worse of the lot because they tend to get away with a lot more than any boys would.
As the boys are a bit more obvious and crude, whereas the girls are more subtle and do things with your hair, nails, clothing, and their mothers can even be worse!

I remember back when I thought I could trust people in my class, there was one girl Sarah who actually made an effort to get to know me. Not the toddler that everybody else saw, the real eleven year old me. I was surprised and let my guard down. This would seal my fate and forever tarnish my trust of fellow classmates. It started out when she asked me to help her with her homework; she was in theater productions and needed to practice her stage makeup and costuming. Well trying to be a friend, I volunteered to help her and be a “test dummy”, not realizing what she had planned. After school had ended, we went over to her house and got started. She had me go into the bathroom and change into a robe to protect my clothes from the stage makeup. My mind was screaming something’s wrong but I wasn’t about to back out and lose a potential friend just because I got cold feet.

As she was putting the makeup on I started to fidget because I had to go to the bathroom, well Sarah was not listening to me as she had the stereo up pretty loud and I couldn’t talk over it. As she stopped to change from the foundation to eyeliner I jumped up and ran towards the bathroom, but I never made it. The belt on the robe had come untied and I stepped on it tripping me. I fell flat on my face and almost broke my nose. The feeling of intense pain momentarily overrode my need to use the bathroom and I lost control for a fraction of a second, unfortunately that was all it needed to cause me to have an accident. I was embarrassed beyond all conscious thought, here I am eleven years old and I just wet my pants like a toddler! Sarah was laughing at first until I stood up and she realized that I had had an accident, then she got mad. I was wearing her robe and she didn’t let me forget it.

She had me take a shower to clean up myself then she got a chance of clothes from when she was babysitting the neighborhood kids. I didn’t realize that she had a complete toddler girl outfit, including diapers. After my shower she dressed me in those awful clothes and then re did the makeup I had washed off in the shower. Sarah also curled my hair and made it look like I was no older than a three year old. When her mom came home later that afternoon Sarah told her about my fall and embarrassing accident, how she thought to use a diaper because my underwear was soaked. She even placed my clothes into a plastic bag so they wouldn’t get everything else wet. I was upset because my clothes were dry but she placed them in the bag anyway. Her mom wound up taking me home because I had to stay dressed in the toddler clothes and it would have been a disaster if I had tried to walk around the block to my house.

How could I ever trust another adult or another girl who claimed to be my friend? I was betrayed by someone who acted like a friend all for the sake of getting me to be dressed as the little girl she wanted me to appear to be. Even her mother got into it! Her mom gushed at how cute I was and tried to treat me like the toddler I was dressed as. I had no clue that Sarah had taken pictures of me dressed like this, but I found out later that week as one of the pictures was sitting in my locker at school. Sarah even had the nerve to write on the back “Baby Terri, we should do this again next Saturday. I’ll call you Friday to set up the date”

Someone always found a way to trip me at every other corner so it seemed to everyone else that I was either a klutz or worse a ditzy blonde-haired person. I am the only fifth grader who looks like he belongs in first or second grade in my school. I am an eleven-year-old-boy who chooses to play with the girls all the time, because I am too small to do guy stuff. I can’t play sports very much, because my bones are too soft. Just what I need my doctor telling me; that I will never get to be like the rest of the boys and that if mom hadn’t taken those drugs I wouldn’t be here today, life is swell… NOT!

I felt so alone, I had been betrayed, I had been manipulated, lied to, and even made to do things I did not want to do. All because others wanted me to appear as what they perceived what I should appear to be. Life sucks for a child when they are tiny and can't fight for themselves. I never minded the physical pain of tripping and punches. What hurt the most was the betrayal and the manipulations I had no control over.

The good news, well the day after the disaster with Sarah, mom got a phone call, it seems that her application was accepted and we were moving to Washington on Monday. I was permitted to spend the rest of the week helping mom pack and we left the Hell of Northern Salt Lake City behind!