Lex(44)

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about lady? We haven’t talked about how you feel about her in a long time.”

Roni is being too nice. I need my bitchy best friend back. I don’t like people feeling sorry for me or trying to hold my hand. I don’t want to be babied. I want to go to sleep.

“Lady is fine. I like her just fine and she serves a purpose. I still want to keep her.”

“Good. Now go to sleep.”

She smiles, winks, and shuts my door. Rolling onto my side, I click off my night lamp. Tonight has been quite the evening. I’m exhausted and ready to sleep away all of tonight’s drama.





Chapter Eleven





As I am sure, you have gathered through the course of the night, I have an extra appendage. Now, before you go writing me off and thinking I’m some sicko freakazoid. Hear me out.

Here’s my story on how I became the woman I am today.

My past, as far back that I can remember, my life was always filled with pain. Emotional pain, laced with moments of excruciating punishment. Punishment rendered firstly by my father for not being the son he always wanted. I was the monster or a ‘thing’ in his eyes, or that’s what he told me on many occasions, all because I’m different. I was born with the wrong sex between my legs. And once my mother and I were finally able to rid ourselves from the destruction my father reaped, we moved to Heartfair to start our new lives. Then at twenty-one, I met my first long-term boyfriend. The man I lost my virginity to, but once again I was betrayed. Our love and my trust was obliterated within the first six months of us being together. The love we felt quickly fell apart and was replaced with hatred and through that hate; abuse was the front-runner in my life for eight very long agonizing months, until I was finally saved. We’ve already talked about Brian. And that’s only half of my story.

When I was a child, I felt different. I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. I just didn’t feel like a boy. I never liked boy things. Even though I wore boy clothes, had a boy haircut and was even forced to pee like a man; standing up. Although when my father wasn’t home, I always sat down. It felt more natural to me.

I can vividly remember this moment like it was yesterday. I was four and my mom took me grocery shopping with her. Which we did everything together. I’ve always been close with her. I had on a pair of blue bibs—or that’s what we called them. You might know them better as overalls. And that spring day at the store because I had been such a good boy helping my mom with her shopping—by putting things in her cart that was on our list and always listening to her instructions. My mom surprised me by taking me to the toy department to pick out something special, just for me.

Being an only child with no close cousins or friends, I had never seen a baby doll or a Barbie up close. They were always on TV but I was not allowed to watch it much. So I was ecstatic to be able to touch and see them in their plastic boxes, lining the store aisles. Padding my tiny light up tennis shoe clad feet, up and down the aisle I looked at every single toy, until I found her. The most perfect doll. She was a Barbie with long blonde hair and a frilly pink dress that fell off her shoulders. It was love at first sight. And when I carried my precious cargo over to my mom, she was slightly puzzled by my choice.

“Lex, are you sure you don’t want a He-man action figure? Or a G.I Joe, instead?” she asked with a sweet smile on her face.

Shaking my head and batting my long lashes, she gave in. I was dead set on that doll. And being the sweet mom she is, I was allowed to have my very first pretty pink Barbie. I was beyond proud and thrilled to call her mine.

When we got home to our small single story house in a tiny town resting in the middle of Connecticut, I raced into the house for the scissors so my mom could open my Barbie for me. She did, even before putting away the bags of groceries.

I played and cherished that Barbie in my blue walled bedroom where I talked with her and introduced her to my stuffed animals and the hot wheels that I had meticulously lined up on my brown dresser for display. I never played with them. I didn’t like them that way.

When my Dad came home that night from work, he was a police officer and always worked long hours. So I didn’t see him as much as my mom, who stayed at home with me full time.

Running from my room down the hall with my Barbie in my grasp, I was so excited to show my dad. Stopping in front of his recliner as he knelt down unlacing his boots and sitting them next to his chair one at a time, he looked up at up at me with tired eyes, a forced smile, and he said, “Hey there, Lex.”

“Dad, look what I got today!” I screeched so excited I could have jumped out of my skin if it hadn’t been attached.