I will see your vagina and raise you a woman

Today, I felt it.

Not my vagina physically. No. Not today. Emotionally, rather. Today I felt like a girl, and for once I feel no guilt or humiliation for it.

As the younger of two sisters and I am considerably the butch one. If an episode of MTV's Room Raiders were to go into our shared bedroom, they'd see her full size, decorated bed and then turn to look at my twin sleeping coven covered in a Spider-man bed set. Needless to say, I always had a feeling that I was born the wrong gender. Mentally, not physically. Let's keep clarifying that to avoid any speculation.

Today, however, as I left my room and finally finished getting dressed, I actually felt like a "real" girl.

It sounds silly, I suppose. But I usually find myself avoiding feeling this way--or at least feeling good about it.

I should first let it out that I'm a very jealous person. That said, my boy cousins always received special treatment from my dad, who I am assume had always wanted a son (I mean, what father DOESN'T want a boy to share information with?). Because of that empty space, I wanted to be at least similar to a son. Less of a daughter, anyway. Though having obvious girlish tendencies, such as wearing makeup, complaining about zits and falling in love with celebrities that my dad was sure weren't into girls, I wanted to do what I could.

So, I dodged shared interests with my sister. Pink was never for me. It still isn't. I don't necessarily try to be that dainty. A little dirt doesn't hurt. I'm far from a tomboy, but I'm even more distant from being a human doily.

Still, today I not-so-secretly felt a little girlier.