As I thought earlier, I’m not used to my own body.
Having lived my entire life as a man and then suddenly waking up as a girl. Who could get used to that right away?
Well, of course, given enough time, I suppose I’d eventually get used to it. Maybe if people around me said helpful things or supported me in every way possible. Or if they just treated me the same as before, completely indifferent to the change. Then I’d realize that changing genders or appearance doesn’t really affect my life, and I’d just live on as usual.
But I wasn’t that lucky.
Starting with my parents, who outright denied and were ashamed of me now that I’d become a girl. They even tried to hide me.
When I was a boy, I didn’t know my father had such a violent side. I was the good son who did everything I was told. Since I inherited their superior genes, studied well, and achieved high grades, there was no need for them to resort to violence with me.
So, I was content playing the role of the good son, the son they could be proud of. But after becoming a girl, my father’s attitude changed completely, and I kept thinking it was my fault. Even though I didn’t choose this, I thought it was wrong for me to have become a girl.
I also despaired over the fact that I couldn’t meet my parents’ expectations anymore. I just endured their punches and kicks, thinking it was all my fault. Like an idiot.
I think I can kind of understand how they felt. Their obedient good son suddenly became a burden, so of course they’d be furious. They sent me to cram schools, fed me all the healthy food, dressed me in nice clothes—their puppet had become utterly useless. Maybe they regretted their investment.
But after my father died and my mother went to prison, and I was left alone, I started to understand those things.
They didn’t see me as their son. I was just the doll they wanted to play with.
I was the ideal figurine that did everything they asked, so their expectations were high, and so was their disappointment.
I mean, I understood all that, but it’s not like I accepted it. It’s not like I’ll ever see them again anyway, so it’s all irrelevant now.
But the rejection that was carved into my body and mind back then hasn’t faded. Even though my father is dead and my mother will probably be in prison until I die, so there’s no one left to care.
That’s why I hate my body. I hate the ominous red eyes, the pale skin like a sick horse. My shrunken height, my tiny stomach that forces me to throw up if I eat just a little too much. The way my body freezes and I can’t breathe when I see a blade. It’s terrifying.
So, naturally, I even hate the bathroom, the only place where I have to face myself fully. As soon as I step in, the mirror is right there, and I don’t want to see those unfocused, eerie eyes or my pitiful body.
“Noeul, it’s been a while and I don’t hear any water. Should I come in and wash you?”
“Ah, no. I’ll wash myself.”
At least I don’t stink even if I don’t shower, so I’ve been putting it off. But today, because of the woman who pushed me into the bathroom and is waiting outside, I guess I have no choice but to wash.
Finally, I stopped glaring at myself in the mirror and took off my oversized hoodie. What was revealed was my scrawny naked body.
When I was a boy, my mother would buy me clothes I didn’t even wear, but after I became a girl, she must’ve thought it wasn’t worth the investment, so she didn’t get me any clothes that fit. I had no choice but to wear the hoodies I had from when I was a boy. My underwear and pants were so loose they kept falling off, so I just stopped wearing them.
It’s uncomfortable to look at my own naked body, so I’ve been avoiding the mirror, but I noticed I’ve lost weight since the last time I looked. Probably because I haven’t been eating well. But then again, I’m going to die anyway, so why bother gaining weight or staying healthy? By the same logic, do I even need to shower? I could just live like this and die.
……But I’m a coward. I don’t have the courage to die right now, so I’m just living. I can’t even handle it if someone’s good intentions turn malicious because I didn’t listen to them.
So, I grabbed the wall and hobbled toward the bathtub. If both my legs were intact, I’d just step right in, but now that I only have one leg, I had to sit on the edge of the tub and swing my body over.
Then I turned on the water. Since I’ve been paying my taxes, the hot water hasn’t been cut off yet. But that doesn’t mean hot water comes out right away. So, I turned on the water and shivered as cold water splashed, waiting for it to warm up.
My body is so weak that even a little chill makes me shake like this. Even though winter is over, and it’s warm enough outside to make you sweat.
As I blankly waited for the hot water, the woman outside urged me again.
“Noeul, why do I only hear the sound of running water? Are you just splashing water on yourself and getting out? You need to shampoo your hair, lather up with shower foam, and wash your body thoroughly. Got it? Do you need me to teach you how to wash yourself?”
“Ah, I know. I’m not a child. I was just waiting for the water to get warm.”
A shower with someone waiting outside. It’s not like she’s rushing me, but I’m starting to feel more anxious. If I dawdle too long, I feel like she’s going to barge in.
Even if she’s a woman dressed in a formal suit, she wouldn’t come into the bathroom like that. If she said she’d wash me, she’d at least take off her stockings and clothes outside, since water would splash.
Then I’d really be in trouble. Even though I’ve never been in a relationship, I’m not completely clueless about a woman’s body. Even if I don’t know her face or name, if she’s wearing a perfectly fitted suit, I can imagine what’s underneath. Just thinking about it is embarrassing.
It’s a real woman’s body, not just a photo or a video. Of course, my body is a girl’s too, but if you can call a flat-chested, skinny figure a woman’s body… well, it’s not exactly thrilling or awkward. It’s just unpleasant.
Barely calming my flushed face and racing heart with the familiar discomfort of my own body, I started shampooing and soaping up under the shower.
“Make sure to wash behind your neck, behind your ears, and your crotch. I’ll check the smell later. Do you think I can’t tell the difference between your shampoo and your body odor.”
“Of course, I know. I’ll wash properly, so don’t worry.”
“If you don’t shower properly, I’ll wash you myself, so you better do a good job.”
Her playful tone made me imagine her sniffing around my neck, and just the thought is embarrassing. Unless it’s someone of the opposite gender, now that I’ve become a girl, I don’t have a good reason to reject a woman.
To avoid a major disaster of her washing me, I frantically scrubbed my body. My hair will just clean itself with the shampoo, lather, and rinse. My body, I just squeezed some body wash on the shower towel, made a rough lather, and scrubbed from the arms down.
Even though my strength is much weaker than when I was a man. Maybe because my skin has also become more delicate. It stings so much that it turns red when I scrub. But this is nothing compared to when my father used to hit me.
Once my whole body was a soapy mess, I poured warm water over myself and rinsed it all off at once. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I felt refreshed. It’s partly because there’s someone who’s kind to me for once, but the feeling after a shower is still a reflex that my parents couldn’t erase from me.
I’m a bit tired from washing myself, so I sat on the edge of the tub to rest. My hair is stuck to my shoulders, neck, and back, which is uncomfortable, but I’ll just dry it roughly with a towel, and it should dry on its own while I play games later.
When I bow my head, the water in my heavy hair drips down in drops.
I stared blankly at the water dripping onto the floor, and by the time my neck felt stiff, she called out again.
“Noeul, why don’t I hear the sound of the towel? Is your hair too heavy to move? Should I help you?”
“Ah, no! I’ll dry myself and come out!”
She tried to come into the bathroom again. Even with this pitiful body, I don’t like the idea of someone seeing me. I quickly reached for the towel and stood up.
When I was a man, I could just sit in the tub and reach for the towel, but now that I’m shorter, I even had to stand up.
But maybe I was too hasty. Or maybe moving with only one leg isn’t very familiar in the bathroom. The water on the floor made me slip, and I instinctively tried to use my other leg to balance, but it had no effect.
The leg without an ankle offers some cushioning, but it’s no help in maintaining balance.
“Ah……!”
My hand, trying to grab the wall, flailed in the air uselessly, and I fell straight onto the bathroom floor.
