If my mother tells me one more time, "Rollie, why can't you fucking act like a girl for once?" I am going to fucking pack my bags and leave, I don't care what happens.
Why does it bother so much that I don't wear skirts or dresses? That I like my hair super-short, and in fact want to shave it off? That I want a nose ring? That I hate carrying purses, and would rather just put everything in the pocket of my jeans? That I like the colors blue and black rather than pink and lavender? That I prefer plaid, spikes, and Hello Kitty to taffeta, lace, and ribbons?
Oh, I know why. Because she can't stand the idea that I, her only biological child, am different. That I'm bisexual, that I prefer writing and playing guitar, that I will never be interested in volleyball or piano. She's already forced me into eleven fucking years of piano! That's all but three years of my life!
I'm so sick and fucking tired of her going back on her word. I'm sick of her telling me that I could stand to lose a few pounds, when she knows I'm on the verge of anorexia and have a terrible self-image. I'm tired of not being good enough for her. Did I ask to be her daughter? Did I ask to be a girl? No! So why does she act like it's my fucking fault?
...I'm truly sorry to anyone who reads this. I just really needed to rant, and no one in my town listens. Small Montana towns suck ass.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
It really sucks. It does. You have to survive it.
Your mom still probably has a set vision of you in her mind that she's not going to let go of easily. You're still at that age where anything you think or do that goes against what she wants to hear or see will be written off in her mind as "a phase."
Listen, I'll just stop here because I'm not one to be giving advice at this point in my life. But you do gain perspective as you age and suffering actually does help you gain perspective in the long run.