Page 15 - When I Was... a Girl by Oliwia Penkala

“Hi, whoever you are.” His smile turned into a funny grimace and I started laughing, really loud. “What’s wrong?” He asked and I didn’t know what to say. Maybe something like: “So, you probably think that I am Maggie Whoever but I am a boy and this is disgusting and I am indignant about this situation because, you know, no offence, but I like girls and you don’t look like one of them, so get out of my sidewalk.” But all I said was: “Everything is fine.” And I smiled like stupid. I hate it when girls do that but now I know that they can’t help this stupid smile. I’ve always been wondering why they seem to be stupid, hostile and so different without make-up but now I know that they put make-up on their faces to look more “beautiful” or something. This is, you know, kind of piteous, because we – boys - don’t actually meet the real girls but kind of fake masks hiding tears and sadness which are in their hearts. And I hate this feeling when I sit on the bed and all I can say is “I am so ugly and useless and all I want to do is eat chocolate and not to get fat.” You know, this is… well, I don’t even know how to call this. When I am thinking like that I really feel useless! And I am like “Oh, no, no. This is not what I thought when I was thinking about this all girl stuff, you know.” My thoughts were more like “A rainbow, a unicorn, boys and clothes!” A lot of pink stuff and not tears or… actually, I don’t want to think about it. I am a boy. This really helps me not to forget who I am. I AM NOT A GIRL. I can say more: I DON’T WANT TO BE A FREAKING GIRL. 15