I can't begin to describe what I'm feeling right now. Relief? Understanding? I don't know. I like it. It's like a weight's been lifted off my shoulders. I finally know the exact moment when I realized I was a girl, and why I fought it for so long.

I was talking with a dear friend just now, and we got on the subject of our first time trying female clothing. I've told the story before about the well-meaning uncle who jokingly told me everyone thought I was going to be a girl, and that strangers mistook me for one as a baby. What I don't think I've ever told, is the story of the pink nightgown.

I'm just going to quote what I told her here:

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My first time was actually my second-earliest memory. It's been the reason for so much of my emotional back-and-forth over the years though. A well-meaning uncle who just likes to get a rise out of people, told me that everyone thought I was going to be a girl, and that when I was a baby everyone thought I *was* a girl -- strangers, that is. Somewhere, there's a photo of me wearing a 'I'm a BOY!' t-shirt to back up this part though.

But rather than being freaked out and going "NU UH!" like any normal boy would, I LOVED that idea. It felt so right, and to add to it, when I got home that day I started playing in my room. I noticed we had this huge chest of drawers that belonged to my grandmother. I started digging through it, and I found this adorable pink satin nightgown. Being 2, my first thought was "OH WOW they bought me a dress! YAY!" :-P

I wore that thing for a good couple of hours before finally putting it back where I found it, and asking mom about it. I was crestfallen when she told me that was actually the nightgown her mother had held onto from when Mom was a little girl, but the "damage" had been done, so to speak. I think at that point, I thought i was a girl, but what came next is what started the conflict.

Mom caught me playing dress-up with her things. I'm not sure if it was a few days later, a week, or even a month later, but it had to have been a very short time. She sat me down and explained to me that "boys don't wear dresses."

"Why?"

"Because."

... It's weird, but I don't think I've ever told anyone that story. I might have hinted at it in my blogs, but I can't remember just flat out telling anyone. I actually forgot about the part about the pink nightgown until now as well. All this time I thought that it was because of what my uncle said that started the mental conflict, but what he said felt right.

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That memory, that beautiful, adorable pink nightgown was my 'Ah hah' moment. It was the point that I realized, even if I couldn't put it into words, that I'm a girl. In retrospect, even without his "help", I would have figured it out eventually on my own I'm sure.

There are two things that really make me laugh right now. The parallel between my latest story, "But I'm a BOY!" is one (i.e. the exact opposite of how I would have reacted were I Chris/tina :-P), and the second is, the aforementioned nightgown's "pink" is, if my memory is anywhere near accurate, almost the exact same pink I use to sign Becoming Robin. Somewhere between that and Barbie Pink, leaning very slightly toward fuscia. Freaky, huh? :-)

I repressed that memory for so long, but Robin, my "personal demons" novel, brought it out anyway without me realizing it.

~Zoe