living as a male kind of scares me, but in an exciting way. because even though i’m pre-everything i’ll catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, or i’ll notice how flat my chest is while binding and it’s a shock. i’m taken aback and unsettled for a while, but not in a bad way. i’m seeing or noticing a boy in the spaces where there used to be a girl, or someone playing a girl, and seventeen years of lying to yourself is shown to you in an instant.
i feel very small and very childlike sometimes and it is like experiencing things for the first time. when you try on clothes, for instance, when you wear shirts that you bought when you were playing a girl you notice how they fit different, that’s an obvious one. but sometimes i’m doing inane, boring tasks like smoking or making lunch or watching tv and i’ll realise that i’m doing this - i’m a boy and it’s a boy doing all these things, it’s very exciting and it’s like experiencing everything all over again. like you’re getting it right this time.
whenever i was playing a girl, when i had make-up on; skirts, dresses - i would catch myself in the mirror and i’d get depressed and i never ever knew why, i’d constantly compare myself to other girls and i hated it, i was never happy. so i tried wearing different make-up, making my breasts more obvious, wearing shorter skirts. i think i was trying to exude femininity and to me femininity meant the “female” body parts, it meant trying to look sexually appealing and it meant pandering to the male gaze (although if ever confronted by the male gaze i hated it, as if it’s their place to stare etc).
i catch myself in the mirror now when i bind, with my boyish haircut and jeans and i stare for a while. i really, really like what i see and there’s this sense of wholeness that i never felt before. i can smile at myself and i feel able to continue with the day, i never had that feeling before.
sure, i get dysphoric - i compare myself to other boys and i feel inadequate, especially recently when i try to buy clothes (men’s shirts dont usually come in my size, shoes never do and i have very feminine legs/hips so trousers/jeans are hard) but i work on that and i’m gonna go on t eventually (when the doctors have it all figured out and that) and i’ll have top surgery. it’s just nice to feel on the right path.
i wish that i was thinner because i would pass more and i would look “more male”
i am doing myself a disservice because i’ve convinced myself that i have to alter my body (by losing weight/getting toned) in order to fit society’s standards of attractiveness and masculinity.
truth is, i hate my feminine shape. i loathe it.
i hate that it stops me from feeling like the boy i am.
i hate that the idea of being intimate with anyone (myself included) is so off-putting because of how female my body is.
because there’s not a cis man in the world with a similar body to mine and that kills me.
i can’t feel comfortable in my body because of everything that comes with being assigned female at birth, even as i type this i occasionally glance at my hands and they look so small. [[although the other day i measured then against my brother’s (two years my senior) and they’re exactly the same size, i must remember that. it’s important.]]
my waist, hips,bum and thighs (not to mention my breasts) have the audacity to be so obtusely feminine that it’s impossible for me to “pass” or “look male”.
and i’m not one for baggy, shapeless clothes so i can’t even sneak myself into a few sizes up because i’d hate to dress like that.
i am so jealous of thin, androgynous-looking trans boys because even tho, like me, they’re pre-everything they look way more male than i do, more passable.
i think about boys i like, or cute men i see in the streets, i think about hanging out at queer places and crushing on cis men and if they’re trying to work out why this lesbian keeps staring at them. cos there’s nothing wrong with being a lesbian, or looking like a lesbian stereotype, but my god - i couldn’t be further than that.
i think about introducing myself to people as “erik” and i think about having to convince people “no i really am a boy, honest!”
my family is treating my being transgender as the elephant in the room
i think they think that if they dont mention it then it’ll go away
and every time i dress more femme or have to wear a bra for whatever reason, i think they think they’re getting their daughter back.
they still use female pronouns and female gendered terms in huge amounts and i wonder if they’ll ever stop. they’d get mad or upset if i mentioned it.
![i’m trying to work on being a feminine trans boy and it’s hard because you feel like you really need to explain yourself to people. “why not just stay a girl?”and all i can think is “but… david bowie”i wore this to the hunx & his punx gig and i felt very genuine. flat chest and everything else from the women’s sections in clothes stores. but a boy’s outfit none-the-less [[my legs are super feminine tho and i don’t like that at all]]hunx stared at me a lot, and at what i was wearing; so much so that eva asked me after the gig if i’d picked up on how much he was staring. i don’t know why he was but i can only see this as a good thing](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m44eaxoR381rs2zi6o1_500.jpg)
i’m trying to work on being a feminine trans boy and it’s hard because you feel like you really need to explain yourself to people.
“why not just stay a girl?”
and all i can think is “but… david bowie”
i wore this to the hunx & his punx gig and i felt very genuine. flat chest and everything else from the women’s sections in clothes stores. but a boy’s outfit none-the-less
[[my legs are super feminine tho and i don’t like that at all]]
hunx stared at me a lot, and at what i was wearing; so much so that eva asked me after the gig if i’d picked up on how much he was staring. i don’t know why he was but i can only see this as a good thing
5it’s ridiculous how much less manly i feel when i wear a bra. not that i feel particularly “manly” ever but i just feel the weight of how i was born collapse on top of me when i wear a bra.
my breasts hurt and my ribs under them hurt too, so i can’t bind today because it hurts too much. i’ve gotten flack for this before, can you believe that? like, i’m not trans enough if i don’t deal with the pain that comes from binding. i get it, it seems like it would be worth it and every time my body hurts i ask myself if it is…
so i’ve got a bra on and i feel like shit. and my mum will take this as a sign that she’ll have her girl back soon. and i’m in pain anyway but not as much as i would be if i were binding.
i want a flat chest, i don’t care if the scars are obvious forever and always but seeing as how i wont be getting top surgery even in the next couple of years this is something i need to work around, get used to the pain from binding or hopefully my body will get used to it and stop aching. my breasts are my achilles’ heel, i’ve never liked them - the only thing i’ll miss is nipple sensation when i lose it due to top surgery but it’s a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things.
my body is so alien to me when my breasts are obvious, i tried to hide it for years - i tried to make them as obvious as possible without breaking any laws in the hopes that i’d grow to like them. i thought if i just had heaps of internalized misogyny like my mum has, so i tried and tried and tried to like them but i couldn’t because they’re not supposed to be there, especially not now.
1 really hate my body and my height and my face and anything that makes me look girly. i just want to be a boring hipster boy or a kitten prince but i’m not.
seriously considering putting off any kind of romantic or intimate relationship until i’ve had top surgery. i just hate my breasts, i hate everything about them. i hate having to bind, i hate how they look, i hate that i have a bunch of nice tops that i can’t wear w/ a binder because it’ll show thru, i hate that i can never get them flat enough, i hate feeling them, i hate acknowledging them. i need to stop ranting about my breasts.
i need to accept that for the next few years i’m gonna have to put up with them.
so i’ve been listening to/watching this a lot lately. it was in a dream of mine the other night. it gives me goosebumps, i love it.
i really want to get into spoken word poetry but i’m not poetic. i suppose that doesn’t matter.
———————————————————————-
You wanna be Peter Pan. You wanna be that fairy-dusted disaster that conquers Hook and slays pirates because, that’s what strong boys do. But they gave you…a dress, and a name to match, and a lot of pink stuff you never played with. You loved action figures just as much as dolls (yeah you love dolls, don’t lie) you don’t walk like a lady though. You flunked ballet class. You can’t go, it’s boys only, don’t wear swimming trunks, wear a bathing suit. You’re too old to be a Tomboy grow up. You can’t fly, you never will. Even days when you’re wearing the perfect clothes people will stare and say, “Is that a girl or a boy?” and you smile to yourself because today, maybe you might just pass, but then you see their eyes, register no facial hair, no knot in your throat, no bulge in your pants, they say it again, louder, tauntingly, “Is that a girl or a boy?”. This time they know and they just wanna see you squirm and you do and they snicker and give you that look that says, “You aren’t human here”. You’re stuck with the body you’ve got and the gender you don’t. There’s no fairy dust. No flying away. No childhood dreams. So you’re doing the best you can. You rock your indecisive parts proudly, but there are days when you can be shattered by a quick tongue, days when men argue about the lines of your body and then one says, “It’s got tits.” It, because you’re not worthy of any other title. Days when girls will hate you for what you are, whatever you are. You aren’t human here. But I’ve got tits. So on that day when he said to me, “I don’t care if you’re gay I’d still fuck the shit out of you” I should have been willing, right? But I wasn’t, so I walked faster trying to escape his leering face, the look of malice in his eyes that I’ve seen in so many other men, “I’ll fuck you straight girl”. I don’t know how much of a girl I am but at that moment I wished I had the knuckle strength of men…but I don’t, so I left my pride in his throat. I would try to glue myself back together for tomorrow because there are always gonna be days like this. Days when you have to carry your somber heart like a coffin, days when you pass, until you slip and let your words fall from your mouth carried by a feminine voice and they know again. Know that you’re not a him, or a her, but something in between, not human to them. What an abomination, what a monster. Why can’t you be normal with your dress, your boyfriend, your virginity? They wanna paint you the color of smashed hymens. They want you to know that naked, you will always be soft like a woman; naked, you will always have the parts of a woman. You, it, your telltale breasts you will never be one of those strong boys. You are far from Peter Pan but learn to hold your back like a flagpole, it’s all you’ve got out there. There’s no Neverland.
8 yeah, really wish i could get hard rn
thinking about penises a lot today and the fact that i’ll never get an erection.
because i can wear a packer and i can wear a strap-on and i can wear an stp, so that’s basic grounds covered but none of that can come close to knowing what it feels like to get hard.
clitoral stimulation/erections when i’m on t won’t be the same, feel the same, look the same etc and that really bothers me every so often. don’t feel any where near as dysphoric about my genitals as i do about other parts of me but when it gets me it gets me hard.
1 I wanted to go outside today but I couldn’t. Just couldn’t face it today.
Where I live there’s so many people with clipboards or stalls trying to get you to donate money or change your internet service provider. They look at you and they try and be friendly “Hi ladies!” and it’s a punch to the chest. Because I make a huge effort sometimes to look as male as I can. And all that effort is out the window with those two words. My mood is down and I feel like shit.
Because despite my best efforts I look like a girl. So why try? Why bother? Why put all that time and energy in, why focus on tiny details when I’m not even being read right?
So I couldn’t go out today and I wanted to. I wanted to try and beat my general sadness and I thought going outside would help, but I’m adjusting my shirts in the mirror ten times over, I’m asking Eva which jeans make me look more male, I’m trying to stand and walk in a certain way and for what?
Some days I don’t mind. Because I know who I am and I don’t need the validation. I can wear a skirt or a dress and I know who I am and I can’t care less what other people think, that they read me as a girl. But some days it controls my emotions and my actions and my life. Some days I’m not that strong.
1 
