The bubble burst shortly after lunch, when Dad suggested I put on a shirt, both to deal with sweat and because he's not comfortable looking at my top surgery scars.
I kind of get why he said that, but still. Yikes.
Mom is a 20-year breast cancer survivor (this year, actually!), and I'm sure there was a long while where her mastectomy scars looked like mine do now. That's my best guess on what Dad is thinking of, and that's legit trauma I can be kind and accommodating about.
Still, though. We're on vacation in the Deep South. I was not expecting the gender presentation pressure to come from inside the house.
And for what it's worth, Mom hasn't said anything about it yet, and she's never hesitated to tell me when she doesn't like how I'm presenting myself.
I dunno. Maybe I'll mention it to Mom next time it's just the two of us. Maybe I'll let it lie for a few years and bring it up when my scars are less prominent.
Short version of the update: I was right about why
Either way, I've started this family vacation with one glorious day in the sun, as it were, and I've got the sunburn to prove it. (I promise I sunscreened properly, but I probably sweated most of it off right away. It's not supposed to be quite as unbearably hot the rest of the week, which I hope will help.)
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