In the midst of a very dark tale in the making, I saw that a contest with the theme of 'Rebirth' was in progress. I never cared much for the word 'transition'. Although clinically correct, it never was an appellation for what I felt or experienced. I recalled a quote attributed to Michelangelo regarding the piece 'David'. But there was no basis that the quote was his. So I aptly chose a quote that was more suitable to my circumstance.
"In 1903 an essayist in “The Century Magazine” published an instance of the quip that credited a stereotypical Irish person: …it recalls the Irishman’s idea of how statues are made. “It’s simple enough,” he explained. “All a sculptor has to do is to take a big block of marble and just chip off all that isn’t necessary for the figure.”
My 'rebirth' really took place over the course of a very long day at the local mall. One of the women who subsequently became my guardian saw the person I really was and she went about 'chipping away' all that wasn't applicable. We entered the mall at ten and left around four that same afternoon. I went in as a young scruffy teen boy and left a most passable young teen girl. When we arrived back home and I looked in the mirror, the image that was in my mind matched the image I viewed.
I was shocked, stunned, and elated. Words fail to describe the emotions I felt upon seeing the person I truly was. Everything matched! The mannerisms and mode of speech and other actions, which had always been feminine, finally matched the physical sight I presented. This was my rebirth.
I can't say that all went smoothly. Only after several weeks did the 'novelty' of being the true me wear off and I simply went about my daily chores and actions as if I'd always looked and acted in the manner of a typical teen girl. I had the luxury of several months before school began to acclimate to my 'new' self. When I entered a special vocational school that August, I was fully accepted as what I presented.
My rebirth at the mall was not without pain and suffering. I experienced a major meltdown about halfway through the process. But my sculptress was unrelenting in her pursuit of her vision. She insisted that we continue on the journey we'd begun. So after a brief respite, she continued to chip away at me. In hindsight, her persistence perhaps bordered on child abuse. But again in hindsight, there was no other way. In the midst of labor, the impending mother cannot stop what nature has begun to take a rest simply because her child didn't want to leave it's warm safe place.
Thus my tale for the contest is loosely based upon my own experience. The more graphic (sexual) portions involving a teen girl and a younger teen boy are strictly poetic liberty taken for the sake of the tale. However, the teen girl was modelled after the one guardian complete with the strawberry blond hair, the pale green eyes and the unrelenting pursuit of perfection.
Whilst we all experience similar events during our transitions, each of us also has a unique quality about what we've undergone during this process. I must say that I was ever so fortunate to have an amazingly strong and supportive pair of ladies that made my rebirth as painless and as seamless as any rebirth could possible be. And the families of my guardians never knew me or saw me as anything other than being female from (re)birth. If only we could all make that claim.
This tale, which should be posted later this day, will be dedicated to both my guardians. As the playwright wrote: "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers."