A journey to San Francisco to become no less than Me. (BLOG REBOOT: Former site of Hairy Legs.)

Once again, I only have a couple moments to post, but this is important.

I was just reading another FtM blog about someone who just came out, and it struck me- I’m turning 21 in a month, and my dad doesn’t know who I am.  I don’t want to pass into my adulthood without coming out to my dad, because- and this barely makes sense, but- because I’d feel sort of “done”, in the cooking sense, as a human being, and I wouldn’t want anybody I respected as a fellow adult to partake of me without knowing what I was.  Did that make sense?  I don’t think so.  Nevermind.

The point here is, I need to come up with some way to come out to my dad- the traditional letter, or should I just have a talk with him, or should I make a big production of it, with videos I found online that I feel make it all make sense of the trans experience, or should I just keep it small, like it’s really no big deal, or what?  I feel like this is going to take a lot more explaining than just “I’m a guy.”  But I also feel like he might not listen to too much of it, and that I should cram some really core concepts into just a few lines to make sure he has something to think about before he makes me stop talking.  Or something.  I don’t know how to make him understand this without breaking his heart first.

The truth is, I know that this is going to hurt, because in his eyes, I’ll be taking his little girl away.  But in the long run, he’ll really just be getting to know the son he’s always had-

-the one who went fishing with him every Saturday when the other women in the family opted to stay home

-the one who went rock climbing and hiking and always wanted more when it was too much for sis

-the one who always wanted to shoot a game of one-on-one hoops with him

-the one who always wanted to go to the ballpark and watch the neighborhood baseball teams with him

-the one who rooted for watching football with him when all the other women in the house groaned

-the one who wanted to learn to shave, just like him, almost when I was too little to remember, and I cut my face

-the one who was determined to tough it out like a man for him when I fell and scraped my knee, even when I was just tiny.

There’s so much childhood there that I realize isn’t a traditional father-daughter relationship.  I was always there to be the son he didn’t have, and he just didn’t know it.  So I can’t see how hard it would be for him to accept it, really.  I just want to show him.

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