Seeing as it was my dress, Mum got me to help tailor it so it would fit me better.  Sewing anything definitely wasn't my strong suit, but it was fun nevertheless.  It gave me a slight sense of euphoria being able to do a ‘woman’s’ activity.  The whole time Mum and I had a bit of fun fixing the dress up, Dad sat in the living room and glared at us from a distance.  Clearly, he didn't approve.  But he held his tongue.

Once the dress was fixed, I tried it on again and this time, it fit perfectly.  Unlike the previous time, I was able to look in the mirror and smile at what I saw.  Yes, I still had my hair and body that looked a tad awkward, but Mum insisted that once my hair grew a bit more, then I would pass perfectly as a woman if I wanted to.

When Dad wasn't home, I happily wore my new dress around the house.  The minute he got home, I would sneak upstairs and hide in my room.  If I had to come out, then I would change into something he would approve of.  Occasionally, he would spot me in it and he would glare at me until I fixed it.  He didn't dare say a word of Mum was around.  However, if Mum wasn't around, all hell broke loose.  He would berate me for wearing it and almost tried to rip it off and burn it once.  Thank god Mum stepped in before he could.  From those days forward, he made it his goal to turn me into the man I was meant to be.  Any free time I had?  Say goodbye to that.  I was forced to work out back with him and do 'manly' things.  The man forgot I was virtually useless with those sorts of things but refused to let me slack off.  Every minute I wasn't around him was a minute I could be 'playing dress up' to him.

December

"Put your back into it!"  Dad encouraged me as he watched me attempt to chop wood.  I was putting my back into it all right… By trying not to fall over.  Thanks to the numerous December storms, snow was piled up around my legs, making it hard to balance.  My hands were freezing from being outside all day in the negative degrees.  And don't even get me started on my feet!  I couldn't even feel them at this point!  No matter how many layers I had on, I couldn't keep warm, which Dad blamed on being too skinny.

"I am!"  I whined.  All I wanted was to go in.  Why couldn't I stay inside with Mum and help her cook the big Christmas dinner?  She could've used the help!  Not my Dad!  I was just slowing him down!

"Well, swing at it then!  You've been standing there like a moron!"

With a whine and grunt, I swung the ax.  Missing the log entirely, the ax went right into the mountain of snow next to it.  

"You're going to dull the ax!!"  Dad scolded me.  "It's not that hard!"

"I don't have the muscles for this!"

"Well maybe if you didn't spend time playing dress-up, that wouldn't be a problem, would it, boy?"

"Can I just go help Mum?  Please?"

"Not until you split that log.  Get to it."

I groaned and attempted to pull the ax out of the snow.  By the time I managed to do that, 10 minutes had passed.  By the time I actually split the log, an hour had passed.  Finally, Dad had enough of me and told me to go inside, which I happily did.

Inside the house, everything was all cleaned and decorated for Christmas.  Although our family wasn't huge, we had enough people coming over that Mum had her work cut out for her with dinner.  As the antisocial person I was, I wasn't looking forward to having family over.  My aunts weren't bad, but my grandparents were awful to me.  They hated that I wasn't with someone yet and that I came across as feminine.  At this point, they assumed I was gay and would constantly threaten to use the power of the church to convert me. 

"You're back inside, I see,"  Mum said as she chopped up some vegetables.  "Is your father giving you a hard time out there?"

"Just doing the usual."  I shrugged.  "Trying to make me the manly man I was meant to be."

"Oh, yes."  Mum giggled.  "Well, since you're inside, why don't you help finish up supper?"

"Yep.  What do you need?"

Later, everyone was over and we were all enjoying supper together.  During the visit, I stayed relatively quiet.  Talking to my grandparents wasn't something I liked doing, so anything other than a bit of small talk was something I avoided.  Sadly, it wouldn't be long before they focused their attention on me.  They hadn't said anything yet, but I knew the comments on my hair were coming.  It had grown out a fair bit since they last saw me.  It was still considered quite short, but it was the longest I've had in a while.  Bangs swooped into my face, covering the majority of my left eye, and the rest stayed in pretty neat waves.

Hoping I wouldn't have to deal with the comments just yet, I kept my head down and ate quietly.  Maybe, just maybe, they would forget of my existence-

"Adam?"  My grandmother finally focused on me and I tried not to visibly cringe at the sound of that horrible name.  She wore a stern expression.  One I didn't like having directed my way.  "I see you've grown your hair out?  You plan on getting it cut soon, right?"

"Uh, no, actually,"  I mumbled hesitantly.  I was desperately trying to keep my voice lower, but after actively speaking in a higher voice for so long, it was hard to not do it out of habit.  

"Speak up, boy,"  Dad demanded.  He hated when I mumbled.

"I'm not cutting it,"  I said in a more audible voice.  Right away, I could see the looks on their faces from hearing the change in my voice.

"Your voice is higher, is it not?"  Grammy furrowed her brows.  "What is this?  Are you trying to mimic a woman?"

"No!  Of course not!"  I shook my head.  Obviously telling them was a no-go.  That would be like asking for a one-way trip to the asylum.

"You better get your act in gear."  My grandfather added.  "You won't be getting a wife if you look and sound like THAT."

"Grampy, I don't want a wife-"

"You WILL find one!  I'll be damned if you don't continue our bloodline!!"  He exclaimed while slamming his fist on the table.

"And if you dare find a man, God help us all."

I mumbled to myself as I looked back down at my plate.  Could people just leave me alone?  That's all I wanted!  I didn't want to be told how to live or how I needed to find a wife and have kids!

"Are you listening, Adam?"  Grammy asked sternly.  Not wanting to offend her, I looked up and nodded.  "Good.  By next year, I expect you to have found someone.  This is getting ridiculous."

"Yes, Grammy."

"I wouldn't put too much pressure on him,"  Mum spoke up.  "Mark didn't even have a girlfriend until he was 21.  And he only met me when he was 24!  So I wouldn't worry too much.  Things take time."

"Yes, well I would like to be around to see my great-grandchildren."

"I'm sure you will."

Grammy 'hmphed' before carrying on with insults about how useless I was.  How I needed to get a better job instead of working in a stupid candy shop.  On and on and on she went.  I couldn't help it and the constant berating was making me want to cry.  However, I wasn't able to do so.  So what did I do?  Like any normal person, I ate my feelings.  If I ate, I couldn't cry, right?  This wasn't something I normally did, but it seemed like the better option on that particular day.  So while everyone blabbered on about how stupid I was, I kept shoving food in my mouth.  Want to cry?  Nope, eat more.  Feeling sad?  Solution: mashed potatoes.  Getting too full?  Well… dessert looks good, doesn't it?

By the time the meal was over, I was beyond stuffed.  I took overeating at the holidays to a whole new level.  I didn't even think it was possible to eat as much as I did.  Sad thing was, it didn't even stop me from wanting to cry.  My grandparents just didn't stop with the insults!  Not being able to handle it anymore, eventually, I got up and left.  I waddled up to my room, clutching my poor stomach that was struggling to keep down all that I ate.  After rolling into bed, I had a good cry.  Everything they said really hurt.  I knew I was a failure of a son, they didn't need to remind me!  Why did everyone feel they had to remind me of my flaws?  Was it really that hard to just accept me as a person?  Or help me through it??

Laying in bed alone made my mind wander.  As hard as it was to admit, I really did wonder why I even stayed in this world.  It just didn't seem to be worth it.  I was miserable.  Over and over, I wondered why I couldn't be like others?  Why couldn't I be the son my dad wanted me to be, find a wife, and start a family?  Why me?  Depression set in, making me feel empty inside despite my belly being full.  I felt the need to fill that emptiness… maybe more food would do it?  But then again… I couldn't force down anymore.  Tired, I went back and forth between getting more food or just falling asleep.  While I desired food more, I ended up drifting off into a deep sleep… or a food coma, as some would say.