The girl who cried boy | HumorOutcasts

The girl who cried boy

April 4, 2014
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I once read a story about a little boy who claimed to be a fighter pilot from World War II named James Huston. His parents believed he had been reincarnated and was none too happy to be trapped in this little kid’s body. I’m a 100% convinced this shit happened to me except for one key factor; I don’t know who I was, but I know what I was, and it had a penis.

Look at this dude. Wait. Nope. Just me.

From the time I could talk, my mother will tell you that I told everybody, “God’s gonna turn me into a boy”. She must have been beaming with delight.

I remember saying it. I remember telling friends, family, police officers, preachers – anyone who would listen, that God was going to turn me into a boy. I had experienced a horrible injustice and nobody seemed to give a shit. They just thought I was some handicap and would make sure to avoid eye contact with me.

Don’t talk to that crazy little bastard. Their thoughts hung in the air like wisps of smoke.

But I knew that I was in the wrong fucking body from day one. I seemed to have some strange understanding that being a girl sucked and being a boy was awesome.

Fun Fact: The problem with being a girl who looks like a boy, who likes boys, is that you can get your ass kicked real quick at the skating rink.

My  poor parents did what they could to make me into a proper girl. They bought toys that girls might like and attempted to dress me as such.

My response to that? I created an alter-ego named Robbie. Robbie was the boy version of me. My twin. My imaginary friend.

This way, when I would dress like a boy, if my parents said anything to me, I’d say, “no,  you must be mistaken, I’m Robbie”. They couldn’t prove otherwise, as far as I was concerned.

I spent most of my days employing Robbie to knock on the front door asking for me (to validate his existence to my mother who didn’t know every fucking thing), and it would always really piss me off when she would yell at him, because honestly, she could neither confirm nor deny his existence, so how could she be so rude to my only damn friend?

My two best friends, Robbie and Ole' Blue

Nope. There weren’t a lot of kids beating down my door to hang out and break dance. Oh yeah, I was also a skilled break dancer. I had the parachute pants and everything.

I would do my moves in the driveway to try to attract companions, not unlike the courtship display male peacocks put on during matin’ season. I didn’t get more friends, but sometimes a little crowd would form.

It didn’t stop there either. I also had an unhealthy obsession with horses. Maybe I had been John Wayne in my past life, I don’t know, but my sweet mother made me my very own horse named Ole Blue. Attention getter? Yes. Popularity booster? The equivalent of dividing my social life by zero.

I had no understanding that everybody didn’t have made-up friends and identity crises. What I did know was I was the only mother fucker on the block with Ole Blue, and I was rocking that shit.

Times were tough, but the worst day of my life was when my brother explained to me that one day a guy was gonna stick his weenie into my “pee hole”. Well THAT did it.

I ran and put on my brother’s clothes and a ski mask he routinely used to scare the shit out of me. Nobody would be putting their weenie anywhere near this guy. Disaster averted.

But that thought was never far from my mind. What if he was right? What if somebody was really going to be trying to poke around on me when all along I was the one that was supposed to have the penis? I had to do something, and quick, for I was very attractive.

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That’s when I started praying heavily. After all, if He could turn me into this stupid girl, He could certainly change me back. I prayed for years, I know, with complete faith that it would happen. You may have guessed that it did not, in fact, happen.

I think I finally accepted my fate at around eleven. This shit was permanent. I was stuck with these lady parts when all I really wanted to do in life was pee standing up.

Let’s face it though; it was all for the best. If I would have, indeed, received a penis that late in life, I would have been a gay man and I would NOT have made a good gay man. Do you see what I’m wearing? I would have been sent off to that island where they send all the other unfashionable gay cowboys, because I’ve never seen one of those.

While I still think it’s super unfair that not everyone gets to pee standing up, innately have an understanding of North, or get to open their own jars, I did eventually learn to embrace my vagina (figuratively of course) and we all lived happily ever after having one less unfashionable gay cowboy trotting about.

Journey McGuire

When I'm not MMA street fighting, I'm saving kittens from sinking battleships. Writing is the only thing that matters. Besides sleeping, eating, kittens. But not eating sleeping kittens. That would be upsetting.

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9 Responses to The girl who cried boy

  1. April 7, 2014 at 2:09 am

    Yes, but you missed out on a chance to star in “Brokeback Mountain”.

    • April 7, 2014 at 9:42 am

      That really makes me sad. NOT!!!

  2. April 5, 2014 at 8:27 am

    If we didn’t live in a time where women can be anything, including truck drivers,I’d tell you that MY mother would absolutely be on board with labeling at least your mouth very man-like…of course she thinks that your parachute pants are all the rage…
    Loved this post! Keep them coming. It’s nice to feel like I wasn’t the only one with strange ideas and an awful wardrobe when I was growing up.

    • April 5, 2014 at 12:06 pm

      Yeah, and I thought I was pretty damn fancy with my corduroy jacket and horse pin. Gah

  3. Kathy Minicozzi
    April 4, 2014 at 5:11 pm

    I never actually wanted to be a boy; I just wanted to be able to do all the things boys could do. They had all the fun. I also hated housework and resented being shoved into the role of maid, while my brother never had to lift a finger around the house.

    In other words, I was happy enough to be a girl, but I was a tomboy who wasn’t about to be cast in any kind of gender role!

    My social life was pathetic. 🙁

    • April 5, 2014 at 12:14 pm

      I’m the same way. I tell my husband and son that ovaries don’t make me automatically responsible for housework! I was supposed to have a penis dammit!

      • April 5, 2014 at 1:28 pm

        So, it IS true that a penis absolves one from doing housework! Actually, I think most women CARE more about cleanliness and neatness than most men; therefore, they get the biggest reward when housework is “done”.

        • April 5, 2014 at 1:36 pm

          You speak the truth. There could be a pile of trash in the middle of the living room floor and he would never even notice it. You can’t clean what you don’t even see.

          • Kathy Minicozzi
            April 5, 2014 at 4:39 pm

            My father once got so annoyed with us about the dirty dishes in the sink that he washed them himself — without using the soap!

            You can’t blame him. He was the oldest son in an Italian family. He had four sisters to help with the housework. It was his job to work after school and turn his paycheck every week over to Mama to help support the family.

            I guess we women don’t always have the worst of it.



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