Response to my therapist
RESPONSE TO MY THERAPIST’S SUGGESTION THAT I PURCHASE A CUDDLY TOY IN ORDER TO HEAL MY “INNER CHILD” (1994-2023)
The 1990s is all about bears in bows, apparently. My mother purchases my older sisters the Cherished Teddies: Little Sparkles figurines. Each figurine corresponds to a different birthstone: my sisters are February amethyst and May emerald. As to not leave me out, my mother buys mine, also. April’s bear has a blank expression on her face, with one hand reached out. She wears a pearlescent white bow on her head, and a necklace with a diamond heart pendant. She is precious. Don’t let your dad see that, says my mother. So, I keep it on the corner of my bedroom windowsill, behind the curtain. On display instead is a bright red toy car, a Mercedes Benz. I don’t care about cars.
III
Barbie, Sindy, Shelly, Polly Pocket, Betty Spaghetty. Plastic dolls are not cuddly at all, but I quite like them anyway. My proximity to dolls is under threat, because my older sisters are going to outgrow them any day now. I must move swiftly on.
IV
Video games are replacing toys. Pokémon Crystal Version on the Game Boy Color provides me with the great thrill of being able to catch Pokémon as a girl for the first time ever. The gameplay difference is minor: a couple of pixels resembling pigtails, rather than a couple of pixels resembling a backwards cap. No one can even tell that I’m not playing as a boy. The squashed avatar walking around on the screen is barely recognisable as a person, let alone a girl. This means everything to me.
V
I’m an 8-year-old child, and Section 28 is getting repealed. This means absolutely nothing to me. VI
Kids at school have been calling me gay since before I can remember. At first, I didn’t know what it meant, I just knew that it was bad.
VII
I am a teenager hoovering the living room for my mother, when she asks me if I am, in fact, gay. I tell her maybe – which is a more appropriate answer than I even realise.
VIII
It’s 2010. Human rights campaigners are reassuring gay teenagers by saying that it gets better, eventually.
IX
I don’t know if it’s getting better. X
I made it to university alive, and I am using every possible assignment as an opportunity to talk about gender, just because it’s a benign interest of mine.
XI
I still don’t care about cars, and I will never learn how to drive. XII
My eldest sister is raising children. My gay guy boyfriend and I are thinking about buying a Nintendo Switch.
XIII
It’s 2020. The entire world is indoors, and I’m playing Pokémon (as a girl) once again. My gay guy boyfriend and I continue to rent a flat by the sea with single-glazed windows, no central heating, and no oven. My sisters both have mortgages.
XIV
I used to be a guncle, but now I’m a trauntie. I’m sure the kids will figure it out. XV
It has been 1 month since I came out as trans. I get my ears re-pierced and realise that I don’t even have a gay ear anymore. I feel incredibly underwhelmed.
XVI
It has been 2 months since I came out as trans. I’m still growing out an ill-advised mullet and wearing a backwards cap. I feel incredibly overwhelmed.
XVII
It has been 3 months since I came out as trans. My breasts are budding. My gay guy boyfriend can’t decide if they’re creepy or if they’re freaky. I do still love him.
XVIII
It has been 6 months since I came out as trans. I can’t imagine getting in the sea this summer, because the summertime is famously transphobic. I am undergoing the early rounds of laser hair removal, and I casually rip the fried black hairs out of my face between treatments. For the best results, the technicians advise me against tanning. I welcome any excuse to not leave the house.
XIX
It has been 9 months since I came out as trans. I wear a skirt in public in the daylight for the first time, and I think I must be some sort of gender revolutionary. In reality, I am just another woman on her way to bottomless brunch and day-drunk karaoke. I can nearly tie my hair in pigtails, at this point.
XX
I throw Chloe the teddy bear out, finally. I am decluttering, because I’m separating from my gay guy boyfriend. I’m a woman, and it turns out that’s not his thing. Dating apps are replacing video games.
XXI
So-called Daddy Doms love to send me (unsolicited) messages on dating apps calling me Little Girl. I’m not even into that, I swear.
XXII
Cishet men in their mid-20s love to send me (unsolicited) messages on dating apps calling me Mummy despite that being a biological impossibility for multiple complex reasons.
XXIII
I’m obsessed with putting the tag that says I don’t want children on my dating app profile, as though I’m not already barren.
XXIV
As of this evening, both of my sisters are engaged to be married. I just went on a second date for the first time in my life, which is kind of my transgender equivalent.
XXV
I get in the sea for the first time in two years, and it’s a huge personal victory. The most un/important and extra/ordinary act of all time. My sea-swimming is brief and unremarkable, but it fills me with a
pure sense of achievement. I am graceless, but joyful. I know I’m not a strong swimmer, but the sea is still sparkling, anyway.
XXVI
Chronically online trans girls keep buying the same cuddly toy from Ikea, for reasons I don’t know. It’s a shark.
XXVII
I am a grown-up woman, and I tell my therapist when he asks that no, I don’t own any cuddly toys, actually. I resist the urge to tell him how I don’t even own any adult toys, either. I explain to my therapist that I do have large throw cushions on my bed, though, as if that’s the same thing. I occasionally let them spoon me at night – if they’re lucky.
XXVIII
You are a young child, and you have so many cuddly toys. Your mother – my eldest sister – also lets you have guns and swords and rubbish trucks. Though you are brutish, you’re also sensitive in equal measure, and I like this about you. Your most prized possession is a glittering technicolour jewellery box, filled with shiny trinkets. You keep them safe. When I see you with your treasure chest, I wonder if maybe my sister learned something from me. It’s probably just where the culture’s at now.
XXIX
I celebrate my first tranniversary mere months before my 29th birthday. I realise that I am at once the oldest and the youngest that I have ever been. Transitioning is the most mature decision I have ever made, and the most childlike experience I have ever had.
