The year I told you I was a boy
My pronouns changed from she to he, the S dropping from my shaking palm, shattering into a million pieces on the floor
I spent hours on baby name websites searching for a title that fit.
The year I told you I was a boy
I started slouching to hide my chest
Rolling up the cuffs of my oversized jeans
Piling layer on layer to hide the hips I was once so proud of.
The year I told you I was a boy
I cut my hair
I introduced myself as Will to every barber I met
Sitting in that raised chair I would brag about you
Forgetting to ask them how long they’ve been cutting hair and
if they live in the city.
The year I told you I was a boy
I stopped smiling in selfies
You told me boys can smile and I told you “yeah, but look at
my jawline when I don’t”
The year I told you I was a boy
You introduced me as your boyfriend to your family
I embarrassed you with my glee
Stuck out my chest and lowered my voice
“Ahem, nice to meet you”
The year I told you I was a boy
You accepted my rolled-up pants and my messy hair and my
puffed-out chest,
Told me that I was valid
And welcomed me into the skin I inhabit