Prologue:

I was meant to be a boy. I really was.

I hated make-up. Who would want some sticky gooey things practically pasted on your face which totally screams that it would not allow anything applied on it?

My mother practically had to manhandle me into putting on my stupid lacy dress.

I detested dressing up. I don't want to be dolled up. I'm not anybody's plaything. I never did feel comfortable in skirts (which is totally ironic since our uniforms had skirts) or in tight shirts.

Eew.

I wanted to feel free and breezy.

And besides, my period hasn't arrived yet.

And I'm fifteen.

Hah. See?

That's a sign I was meant to be a boy.

While other girls grew up playing dolls, I grew up playing with gross things like lizards, beetles and even spiders.

I collected comic books and action figures.

I didn't want to be Cinderella or Princess Aurora.

Heck. I wanted to be Superman who could smash things in his way.

Who the heck would want to go strolling in a forest wearing a stupidly heavy gown that's simply choking you?

I wouldn't.

Over my dead body.

Never in a million years.

Nuh-uh.

Zero chance.

I wore shorts that were loose and my hair was a mess always. I'd have it cut off if my parent's hadn't stopped me. So I had to keep my long hair.

Which is a total hassle since my hair's like a jungle now.

I am a boy.

I am a boy.

I am a boy.

No way would I be a complete girl.

That's just gross!