Who do you think you are?


For the third time that day I was pushed into the wall. Sigh, here we go again.

”Who do think you are? We don’t like trannys here! We told you to dress properly or else..!” followed by two expertly placed punches in my midriff and, when I had slipped to the floor, by a couple of kicks.

I couldn’t help myself admiring the shapely bare legs that delivered the kicks. No, it wasn’t a footballer or wrestler that delivered my usual afternoon beating. Here bare legs meant a girl. All the boys wore trousers. All the girls, and I mean absolutely all the girls, wore skirts or dresses. While there was no formal dress code the group pressure was enormous. And since my fellow student and teachers had decided that I didn’t comply … The sad thing was that I really was dressing as who I am. No crossdressing. No amount of paperwork brought from Norway could persuade them otherwise.

The cheerleading captain walked away satisfied with her work.

I cursed the day my father got this really great job and signed an ironclad contract for two years. And why couldn’t this godforsaken small town in the middle of the Bible belt have had more than one high-school? I was stuck here. Norway, that’s somewhere in Europe isn’t it? And everyone knows that those Europeans are flaming ungodly socialists all of them, or at least liberals. Ha! My Aunt could tell them a thing or two about being god-fearing. Just imagine; they drink alcohol freely here! Anyway, the Principal was of the firm conviction that my doctor’s papers were either forgeries or that the doctor perjured himself. The Principal even mentioned that he might hand it over to the Sheriff.

With no support from the Principal, the teachers or for that matter the Sheriff I had decided to just tough it out and take the bullying. I could survive for two years. Wrong decision, I concluded as I was writhing on the floor. I’d had it. I gave up.

Mother tried talking me out of it. She has very strong feelings about lying about who you are but finally she conceded that given the situation it was better to go with the flow so we went to the mall in the somewhat bigger town twenty miles away. No way I was going to expose myself to my fellow students when shopping.

The next day I came to school wearing a skirt for the first time in my life. I had let my long blonde hair flow freely instead of my usual pony-tail. I really should have got it cut short a long time ago but I liked it and spent far too much time taking care of it to sacrifice it. I had decided to go all the way so a black bra covering my tiny breasts was discernable under my brand new cream silk blouse.

Everyone was nice to me. Why shouldn’t they? They had won. They had taken this heathen European and shown her the true right way. The Cheerleader captain met me with a big smile.

“Ola, how nice to see you dressed properly. You are really cute. With those legs you really should try out for cheerleading. We need a petite girl for the top of the pyramid.”

I reminded her that I was exempted from all physical activities due to a heart problem. She smiled and said “Yeah, the heart problem. Well, now that you have shown your true self you don’t need that pretext any longer”.

I was called to the Principal’s office.

“Welcome Ola! I see that you finally have decided to abandon your silly ideas about being a boy in a girl’s body”. I tried to interject but he didn’t let me say anything. He continued to tell me that since this charade had ended he had changed my schedule to allow me to have PE with the other girls. I tried to remind him about my heart condition. He waved that away and told me that I was fortunate that he decided not to denounce me and my parents for forgery and now all this was over I had no need to evade PE. My objections about my parents not being involved was answered by the Principal stating that in this school HE decided. My parents would be informed and he also needed to talk to them about other changes of my courses to ones more appropriate for a pretty little girl like me.

Leaving the Principal’s office in daze I stumbled into the (girls’) rest room carrying a bag with a girl’s gym kit that the Principal had graciously presented me. Next period apparently was my first PE. In my hand I had a paper where the Principal grudgingly conceded that forcing me to take PE was his decision against my wishes and without consulting my parents. As he had stated: “I’m not one of those wishy-washy liberals that always try to cover their asses. I know what is right and I stand by it!”

As I was taking my medication for my delayed puberty that left me looking like a cute twelve-year-old I cried. I was beaten. I couldn’t fight it any longer. “Che sarà, sarà” I reflected. I checked that I had my emergency heart pills easily available. Not that I was going to need them I thought. I would be dead before leaving the locker room when the girls saw my penis.

Note: Ola is a common name for males in Norway.

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