Pounded Hard Again
All the boys would be at home now, watching TV or in the pub socialising. Me though, I'd be in the gym. I knew that the natural female form meant I lacked the upper-body strength to match the boys, so I worked harder than them to match. I would tie my long, beautiful chestnut brown hair into a ponytail during matches or while exercising, but it got in the way, it was a distraction. Worse, it was a vulnerability, the referee would look away and the opposition, or even jealous team-mates, would pull my hair to get under my skin. I saw one outcome; cutting my hair into a short messy-bob style.I treat my body methodically, consistently improving it, I admit I was ruthless in the way I drove myself without distraction; I had no time for partying, no time for friends, and certainly no time for relationships.Training made the boys take note of my ability, a hushed respect began to spread around, but still the boys thought little of me, they still patronised and disrespected me.I had my own. The shorter woman sat down next to her, putting her hand on hershoulder. "What did he do to you?" Her voice was soft, with a Scottishaccent."He's going to tell everyone." The tears had started."Tell everyone what hon?" the Scottish woman held her hand. She couldsense her and her partner exchanging glances."That I'm not who I say I am. That I'm not really a girl." She was fullon crying now, her body convulsing with each sob. Despite the sun shefelt cold."I don't understand," the West Indian woman spoke. "Are you sayingyou're trans?" Kind off." She didn't want to have to think about it."Blimey, I've a few friends back in Edinburgh who'd like the number ofyour surgeon."Despite it all, Esme laughed."Is there anyone we could call for you?"Her first thought was Jay. But that wasn't an option. Would it ever bean option again? The tears came back in force. She realised she wasshaking. She tried pulling herself together, using all her mentalstrength get her phone out of her bag and unlock it..
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