So I came out to my mother as being Transgendered and her response was, as always, pitch perfect in it's sarcasm by way of 'You're too tall." Since, y'know, gender is totally based on height. For those of you playing the home game who do NOT know, I happen to be a whopping 6'4", much to my chagrin. But I digress. After that little conversation went south, I turned to my husband for support, as I often do, as well as some very close friends who usually know if not the right thing to say, how to not say the WRONG thing that makes me want to cheat on my diet and down a pint of Reese's flavor ice cream, and we decided that yes,it would be a very difficult thing for me to pull off going the route of HRT But..It's not off the table just yet.

Even though I'm thirty. >.>

But as time wore on, my mother would send me little text messages, "I love you, son" we would be talking on the phone, and she'd continue to use male centered pronouns and I finally snapped on her, standing in Wal Mart [classy] and looking at electric wax melters [candles are too cliche'], and holding on to one that's message I found particularly prudent, I not so calmly informed her "Look, there aren't a LOT of people who actually know. You're one of the few I trusted. Please. PLEASE. Stop. Calling. Me. A. Boy." Her response was less than stellar to say the least. I hung up on her. I RARELY hang up on my mother. I clutched my wax melter with shaking hands, suddenly feeling like the words on it didn't actually mean ANYTHING..

My mother was one of the few people who had always been in my corner no matter what. No matter what I screwed up, how bad things got, she was there to help me. So on this, I just couldn't believe that it was so hard to convey that I identified as gay because it's all I knew for so long.. When I was a kid I'd wear her clothes exclusively if I could. Her shoes, her boots, my sister's dresses [she was smaller]. I always wanted to be a female I just..didn't know it was a THING until far later in life.

I bought my electric-not-candle. I also made a quick pit-stop to the ice cream aisle for a pint of empty calories and made it out to my truck to sit in the driver's seat and stare at the steering wheel. I pulled out my phone. She hadn't called me back so I nervously sent her a text message. "I'm not asking you for much. If you would call me your daughter just once, you have no idea how wonderful I'd feel. How respected, understood, and LOVED that would make me feel. How much it would MEAN to me. It costs you nothing to bring me that much joy. Just think about it."

It took almost an hour before she replied. An apology explaining she would try her best. The next time we spoke, she said "I love you, Son," immediately stopped- "I don't mean that. I mean the I love you part. I've been calling you Son for so long that it just..It will take some time. But I love you."

Imagine.
Dream.
Believe.

The words on my wax melter.