My name is Timothy, but everyone just calls me Tim. At the time of my story my mother was a seamstress and my father had no job but that's because he was a drunkard. I was fourteen and we lived in Los Angeles in the US. I was in a public school because my parents didn't have the money to pay me a fancy private school, but it didn't bother me, I had great friends. Lucy and Sarah were my best friends. I had always admired my mother and the dresses she used to sew, and actually I had always loved dresses in general. People I knew thought that I liked to see the women in the dresses but to be honest, it really was just the clothes that they wore that I loved. But at home I was forced to hide my magazines because whenever my father saw one in my room he would just get mad and yell at me. But I understood him. He had once been a famous wrestler and almost got champion of the US but he got into a car accident and injured his leg so badly that it would never heal ever again, so he was forced to stop wrestling. So he wants me to be a wrestler and realize what he had not been able to do. But I didn't want to. I wanted to be a designer. But he didn't know that at the time.

One day, in the middle of the year, my friend Sarah had to go to an important event, a red carpet I think, her father was an actor, I can't remember his name but I don't think he was really famous. Anyways, Sarah's father had bought her a fancy sparkly dress to go there but the problem is that she broke the zipper while trying to open it, so she asked me if I could ask my mother to fix it. My mother wasn't home when I got there after school, but she had taught me a few things so I was able to fix the zipper of the dress with no problem. When I was sewing the last few centimeters, I noticed the dress that my mom had been working on for weeks now. It was in the dressing room next to her sewing room, and the door was a bit open, just enough so I could see that it was finally finished. I entered the dressing room and stared at this gorgeous emerald green dress ornamented with feathers and glitter. It was so beautiful. When I touched it, I felt the envy to put it on. "It won't hurt anyone" I thought. So I tried it. And as I watched myself in the mirror, I felt so empowered by this amazing dress that was just my size. Some emerald high heels were standing right next to where had been the dress when I first saw it. I thought that the look couldn't be complete without the shoes, so I put them on too. I felt so good. For the first time in my life I felt myself. But I got out of my thoughts when I heard the door of my house open. I heard my father's voice calling me. He was drunk. Again. But that wasn't the worse. He would soon start to search for me in every room. I had to take off the dress. But I couldn't. The zipper was stuck. I was panicking and couldn't find any way to take it off. Ant then my father found me. In the dressing room, in a dress and high heels that I didn't get off. He went red. He had a bottle of whiskey in his hand and smashed it on the ground. And then he took a hard ruler that was behind him and hit me. It was the first time that he ever hit me. He went on and on hitting me and screaming to me that I was a faggot, that I was dumb, that he was ashamed of me and that I would never have a happy life. So I cried. And he stopped. And without adding another word he left. He left the house. And I was just here sprawling on the ground, crying, blood all over the dress that had been so magnificent just a moment before.

My mother came home in the evening. I had not moved an inch. She screamed when she saw me. A scream of horror. I felt bad for her. I had put my filthy blood all over the dress on which she had worked so hard. But she hugged me. She told me that she didn't care about the dress, that I was the only one that she cared about. And I felt better. My father came back home the next morning and didn't talk to me for weeks. But I had not forgot the empowerment that I felt wearing this dress. I needed more. I wanted to wear dresses all of the time, but I just couldn't. And it made me sad. Each time I went to my weekly wrestling classes I felt more and more the need to dress feminine again. I know that my mother wouldn't have let me wear a dress or skirt again because she was afraid of what my father would do. She was afraid of him. I didn't understand why didn't she leave him. Then one day as I was sewing a bag for Lily's birthday that was coming, my father saw me at it. But he didn't hit me. I heard him going downstairs, my mom was watching the television, and I heard her scream. He was hitting her. Because she had taught me to sew. He was saying that she had made me that way, she was the one that was keeping me from realizing my father's dreams. And I couldn't do anything. I went to my room and put my head under a pillow to muffle my mother's screams and the sound of my father's fists hitting her continuously. After that he continued to beat her every week.

When the school year ended, when my father was out, I decided to go. I had prepared a bag for myself and for my mother. Inside were enough money to live for a few months, clothes and some food. I convinced my mother that it was enough and that we had to go. So we left and went to my aunt in Santa Barbara. We were lucky because she welcomed us warmly. Since that day I never saw my father again. I never saw my friends again either, which made me sad a t first, but now I know that it had made us able to have a fresh start. My father tried to find us, and even went to my aunt's place but we were hiding ourselves from him, so he never found us. He stopped searching for us after approximately five months. After a few weeks I realized that I would now be able to wear any dresses or skirts that I want whenever I want to. And that made me happier than ever. I also developed a special interest for makeup, and since we left that day, I have been able to shape myself for my now job, because I have now became a drag queen. These years of wrestling training had gave me a certain flexibility so I was able to perform doing kicks and splits with no problem, and that's what the people love in drag.