Worst gifts for a transboy
I turned 17 a couple of months ago and two different members of my family gave me pink pajamas. For different cultural reasons*, it’s hard to exchange presents down here; so the pajamas are still in my room, haunting me.
This weekend, I got two more belated gifts. One family member gave me a third set of sleepwear, only this time it was a nightgown. A pink nightgown. Plus, my parents invaded my room while I was out: they installed a full-length mirror in my closet. I think I look fine from the shoulders up, but I keenly avoid looking at my chest and hips and girly behind. Thanks, mom and dad, for reminding me I’m female.
I’ve been trying to think of worse gifts for a transman but I couldn’t come up with much. I could’ve recieved makeup (which could be used for face-painting, at least), lacey underwear (got that last year), a book on being a Real Woman (which might be sociologically interesting, albeit appaling), or a purse.
At first, I felt guilty because these people spent –wasted– money on me with their best intentions in mind. I might have appreciated the presents had I been different — that is, cisgender. I wasn’t sad about not getting things I liked; I hope I’m never that materialistic. I just wish people would stop buying me identity-denying gifts which leave me sorry for the giver and make me feel invisible. I wish people would stop giving me presents at all. No, wait — I wish my old friends would call me “he” ; that would be the best gift ever.
Now I can laugh at my sheer bad luck. I mean, three sets of pink pajamas? What are the odds?!
*In Argentina, stores don’t give you your money back. Both pairs of pajamas were bought in “women’s” stores, so I’d only exchange one girly thing for another. Plus, I’m not sure where these people shopped, and I don’t really want to ask.