Trying to get out of the fog, back to the party
Posted: September 27, 2013 Filed under: Testosterone | Tags: bipolar disorder, depression, emotions, in a funk, mental health, optimism, testosterone, trans 3 CommentsI’ve been on testosterone (very low-dose) for a little over 6 months now, and in some ways, that was the best 6 month streak I’ve ever had. Now, I find myself crashing, in some very familiar ways… Did I think I was now immune to these lows? I’m not sure – I’ve felt more “normal” than ever before lately, so yeah I think I figured maybe my “highs and lows” would not vary as much as they have my whole adult life. But I think they’re still a pretty big part of me.
At age 17, I was diagnosed as bipolar. By 23, I was seriously questioning that, and slowly getting off all my meds, and deciding that I had been misdiagnosed. I’m certain of that by now. But, I’m pretty sure I do have some ups and downs that are outside “normal range.” I also have a tendency to just emotionally shut down to avoid the whole feeling things in the first place (not fun!) . Being in therapy recently has helped me avoid shut-down mode. So has testosterone. I think. Maybe.
I’ve been pretty down for the past few weeks. But, relatively, it’s not that bad. In the past, I’ve experienced bouts of depression that have lasted roughly 4-6 months at a time and have left me basically non-functional. Currently, I’m pretty much normally functioning. I’m just not getting much enjoyment out of things, and I’m dreading anything upcoming in the near future. Like, really dreading. Also, interestingly as per my unfaltering optimism, I believe this fog is going to lift any day now, and I’ll get right back into things. We’ll see about that.
It’s just… kind of a bummer. The first few months on testosterone were a really fun mix of elation, warm and fuzzy, cozy, euphoria, sexual energy, confidence burst, and anxiety-be-gone! Now it’s feeling like… party’s over! But, again with the optimism, I think that as soon as I navigate out of this gloom, the party will still be there, waiting for me.
Getting to see what the kids at school are up to
Posted: September 19, 2013 Filed under: Janitorial work | Tags: garbage, janitors, kids, overtime, school, school lunch, trash Leave a commentYesterday, I worked a 13.5 hour day. Hello overtime! My supervisor called to see if I could come in early; she had to get to an appointment. So I was actually at school while the kids were still there, seeing lots of daily goings-on. I’ve done this before, but it’s been a while. A couple of highlights:
– Lunch choices were turkey and gravy or barbecue chicken. I don’t eat meat. I got salad.
– We’re waiting on a delivery of paper towels, so when a classroom ran out (happened 3 times, because we’ve been running low for a while), I had to resort to our back-stock of Bounty. Where all this Bounty came from, I have no idea. It’s way more plush than the stuff the school gets on order though.
– I cleaned a stain off the upholstered dividers we use in the cafeteria.
– I helped two kids walk across the cross-walk out on the bus loop at the end of the day.
– Kids love to stare at me! (Kids love to stare in general.)
– I found a big bag of candy busted open in the trash, toward the end of the night. Whoppers, Almond Joys, Reese’s, Hershey’s Cookies ‘n Cream, etc. My coworker totally caught me fishing them all out, but, that’s alright, I don’t care. He’s seen me digging through garbage so many times.
So, kids! I have no idea how their day was or what they learned or if they made a new friend yesterday. But I do know that the turkey and gravy did not go over so well, that someone in Ms. B’s class really needs to learn how to pee into a toilet, and that they love to bring pebbles from the playground into the building.
From whimsical musings to invasive ruminations on transitioning
Posted: September 17, 2013 Filed under: Testosterone | Tags: androgynous, angst, anxiety, ftm, gender identity, genderqueer, lgbt, lgbtq, non-binary, repetition, ruminating, testosterone, therapy, top surgery, transgender, transmasculine Leave a commentFor over a decade, I had been going back and forth hundreds (thousands?) of times in my head about whether transitioning was right for me or not. Or if not every aspect of it, what about this but not that? Will I ever move forward with some aspect maybe? At some point not that long ago, I seemed to come to the conclusion that no, I wasn’t going to move forward because if I were, I would have done something about it by now. And I haven’t, so I’m not. I must be lacking some internal drive, so it must not be something that I need to do. I settled on identifying as genderqueer and trans* but not planning on medically transitioning in any way. And I seemed satisfied with that. (?) But not quite, or, no, not at all actually. Because it was still on my mind. Sometimes just as whimsical musings in the back of my brain. Other times as pervasive/invasive body-dysphoric consistent ruminations.
I guess I always thought that if I did move forward with something, it would be top surgery, and not HRT. Because I never want to consistently pass as male. I want to continue looking androgynous forever. Top surgery could help with that (although I’m fortunate in that I can get away without surgery, and without binding, in hiding what I have). Taking testosterone would be going further than I want to go. So I thought.
I thought it had to be all or nothing. I thought I had to have a case ready about how I need to transition, in order to access testosterone. And I don’t need to transiton, and I really don’t like to lie. I thought I would need a letter from a therapist, and to jump through all these hoops, to access testosterone. And I wasn’t even sure I wanted it! Eventually I reached a point where I just knew that I needed to try it, at some point, just so that I could know. So that at the very least, I could think about it differently or think about it less often, as it relates to a decision about something I should or should not do.
I have this awesome therapist. She doesn’t know much about trans* identities. I’m fairly certain she had not previously had a trans* client before, although I could be wrong. I’d been talking to her about this stuff, and she’d been following along, more or less, in stride. When I would say I need to try this out, she would say, “then why not!” I asked her if she’d write me a letter if need be, and she said she wouldn’t be comfortable doing that; she doesn’t have enough knowledge about it. Still operating under the assumption that I would need a letter, I started also seeing another therapist, basically for the purpose of getting a letter.
This second therapist gave me the name of a doctor during our first session. Turns out that, apparently, I didn’t need a letter! Turns out I didn’t need to convince anyone at any point that I wanted to transition medically. I never once had to lie to get my hands on testosterone. And once I did get my hands on it, I was given the freedom to experiment with the dosing, basically use as much or as little as I wanted. Turns out I want to use as little as possible. Turns out I might be able to stay on it for the rest of my life without looking any more masculine than I currently do (this has yet to be proven, but it’s been 6 months now, and so far, so good). And the internal effects, with this super low dose, are significant and pretty much better than I could have even hoped for.
Basically, for all those years of wondering and second-guessing and processing and feeling anxious and obsessing and daydreaming and doubting myself and ultimately sort of concluding by default that I wouldn’t take any steps forward, actually doing something about it has been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
And in retrospect, it isn’t like there’s no turning back, to some extent. Testosterone is a slow-moving substance in terms of long-term changes… I’m really enjoying the internal forward momentum though.
A grandpa is re-roofing our house
Posted: September 12, 2013 Filed under: Passing | Tags: children's books, gender identity, genderqueer, grandpas, manual labor, passing, roofers, roofing, transmasculine, work crews Leave a comment
We’re getting a new roof on the house this week. So loud! They’re starting every morning at 7:30, and I’ve just gotten home from work around midnight the night before and am trying to get enough sleep in.
Yesterday, the roofers had a big pile of debris in the driveway, and I had to get through – I was leaving for work. About 4 of them were there, shovelling stuff, and the foreman yelled out, “Clear a path!” They started moving stuff out of my way, and as I walked past a garbage bin, one of the guys dumped a shovelful into it (which I had no problem with). The foreman yelled, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Grandpa!” And I got really confused. Who is Grandpa? Is he calling me Grandpa? It wouldn’t be the first time – it’s kind of a thing that I’m called Grandpa, or “Baby Grandpa.” But how would this guy know that?!!
The one they were actually calling Grandpa seemed flustered too. Apparently he got yelled at for dumping stuff too close to where I was walking. In his defense, he said, “I thought he was with the crew.”
“Grandpa” was later confirmed when I talked to the owner of the company on the phone, and he said if I have a question, I can ask Paul, the foreman, or Steve, “the one they call Grandpa.”
I like being mistaken for someone on the crew!!! (better than thinking I was mistaken for “grandpa.”)
Later that day at work, I found an advertisement for a book in one of the teacher’s trash. It was this book, “How to Babysit a Grandpa,” and it claims the way to babysit a grandpa is to eat olives served on fingertips; look for lizards, cool rocks, and dandelion puffs; and somersault across the room. Not sure about your grandpa, but mine loves olives and he helped me out with a roofing repair about a year ago.
One school (work) day down, one hundred and seventy-nine to go
Posted: September 4, 2013 Filed under: Janitorial work | Tags: alone, janitors, manual labor, relationship, repetition, routine, work Leave a commentToday was back to school day. What does “back to school” mean for a janitor? Well, for this janitor, It means not getting home from work until close to midnight. Blah! It means never seeing my partner (other than seeing her sleeping) during the work week. This will be new. Previously, she had mornings free too and worked later shifts. It’s going to be a big relationship-pattern change. So far we’ve been talking on the phone in the evenings, but, not the same! It also means doing the exact same thing, every single day, 180 times, until next summer. I’d be hard pressed to think of another job that is as isolating and routine-oriented as this one. Mail carrier, trash collector, …what else?
I’m grateful at least we have 2 months every summer where things get changed up. We get to work normal hours. (Well, close. It’s 6:30am till 3:00pm.) We get to work all together, as a team. And there’s all sorts of different, exciting things to get done. Scrubbing desks and chairs, getting the old wax up off floors and re-waxing, shampooing carpeting, lifting heavy things, moving and organizing stuff. At least it’s something different every day. And sometimes there are donuts!
During the school year though, we’re all on our own. I tend to be kind of rigid naturally, so I go through my work exactly the same way every day. I really think I need to challenge myself on this before it feels too mentally heavy. Things can get really heavy… Bleak, repetitive, draining, scary, lonely… Usually I listen to my iPod, and I read during break time, try to keep my mind active. I talk to my co-worker a little bit, but basically, I am alone. I’m kind of used to it by now, but also I want to preemptively plan ahead before things get really bad, in my head.
effeminate pirate orders fruity drink on party boat
Posted: August 31, 2013 Filed under: Passing | Tags: androgyny, binding, gender identity, genderqueer, non-binary, passing, pirates, puffy shirts, sailors, weddings Leave a commentI went to a pirate and sailor themed wedding and dressed as an effeminate pirate. Due to the extreme puffiness of my shirt, I was able to get away without binding. (I try to not bind as much as possible; I try to resort to layers and rarely ever bind. I feel lucky). So I had this puffy shirt, and I wore it open to display some fine pearl necklaces. I wore a red and navy blue diagonally striped cumberbund over red cut-off jean shorts and shiny black boots. I wore my mohawk up tall and proud. Oh, and I wore a homemade patch on the back of the puffy shirt that has an embroidered lobster and says, “Lobsters: gangsters of the sea.”
The wedding and reception were really incredible. It was all aboard a touring boat that went along the canal. More than half of the guests went all out in pirate or sailor costumes. The food was all vegan and the boat was equipped with a full bar. The only difficulty was that it was filled to capacity and there wasn’t much wiggle room. It was very tough to get from point A to point B, so I made it a point to not need to go very many places. Like trying to get a drink took a very long time. Luckily I was waiting with a friend instead of stuck waiting by myself; something like this would have made me anxious beyond belief in the past. But I just chatted with her as the line crept along. When it was finally our turn, she ordered a beer, and then the bartender turned to me and said, “What’ll you have, sir?” It was freaking awesome, particularly since I thought I was looking especially femme. I said, “Gimme the fruitiest drink you got!” To which he made up a frozen peach margarita and said, “There you are, sir.” Which completely floored me because I am never sirred once I speak out loud! In other words, I may be called sir, until I speak, and then people might apologize or “correct their error.” (There is no such error).
But not on this pirate party boat! I walked away with fruity drink in hand, feeling light in the shiny black boots.
chiropractic care shifts since taking testosterone
Posted: August 27, 2013 Filed under: Testosterone | Tags: back pain, Chiropractic, chiropractor, gender identity, non-binary, Scoliosis, spinal health, testosterone, transgender, transition Leave a commentI’ve been going to a chiropractor about once a month for over 5 years. I have mild scoliosis; my back goes out of alignment in a way that always throws my hips off. Plus, working as a janitor requires a lot of repetitive motions – I try to alternate between right and left as much as I can, but I know I’m skewing to the right anyway. I want to do whatever I can to prevent ever having a back injury.
My doctor noticed the scoliosis when I was 13 and treated it by having me wear a lift in my left shoe. Is this really a treatment for scoliosis? I’d been wearing the lift my whole life right up till seeing this chiropractor. He immediately said I didn’t need it. He was definitely right. The appointments always go the same way. He uses the same motions and tools to put me back into alignment. It is a very short amount of time. I can feel the improvements every time I walk out. Sometimes I’m doubtful about how long the effects last though, when I’m going right back to the same tasks every day…
I had an appointment two weeks after starting testosterone, back in April. The routine seemed slightly different, and he commented I was looking good. I wasn’t planning to, but I mentioned the testosterone. I figured he might have some questions – at least ask me why I was taking it. I’ve never said anything about how I identify to him; he’s totally cool though. I imagine he’d totally take it in stride. He didn’t ask though. All he said was, “testosterone will do wonders for muscle mass, but we’re looking at your whole system here. Your spine works in tandem with muscles, joints and ligaments – it’s also connected to every single internal organ.” I think he went on, but I didn’t really catch it all because it sounded like jargon of the profession to me. He was just laying the groundwork to let me know it is important I keep coming.
I am really debating though. I’ve gone 3 more times since then, and I don’t seem to be nearly as far out of alignment as I was before the testosterone. I can’t know for sure because I can’t quite see what he’s doing and I don’t know enough about it. But I’ve been feeling like it might not be necessary. And he’s said more things to the effect of, it’s important to keep fine-tuning your body. Like one time he told me an extended metaphor about not even Yo Yo Ma being able to play well with a shitty, out-of-tune cello. Or something.
I never thought testosterone would change anything about my back, but it does make sense. If I’m developing some muscle strength to balance things out, I might be able to hold the alignment better. I do think my core muscles have shifted, so that if my back is a lever, it has become a slightly more efficient lever than it was before. That is so cool! I’m still going every month in the meantime, but I’m trying to figure out whether I want to continue or not…
five months on T without physical changes
Posted: August 18, 2013 Filed under: Testosterone | Tags: androgynous, ftm, genderqueer, mental health, non-binary, self-injury, testosterone, transgender 2 CommentsI’m happy to report that outward changes continue to be extremely minimal! I’m going to focus on the most noticeable internal-experience changes, now that it’s been a good chunk of time and it feels like these changes are here to stay.
Pain: I was in quite a bit of constant physical pain, mainly joint pain in my hands and arms, probably from repetitive motions at work and/or not eating enough. Instantly, that was gone. In addition, I’m just kind of suddenly getting a little bit stronger and work is way easier. Also, I’m experiencing sensations of pain a lot differently than before. Like, it’s unpleasant! Whereas before, the constant joint pain was unpleasant, but certain types of pain (basically, self-inflicted) were pleasant and/or comforting. I’m not going to say I’ll never self-injure again, but it does feel so far away from where I’m at right now. That is so amazing to me. I hated that I did that, even very recently, quite a lot.
Hunger: Hasn’t ended up being sustainable unfortunately, but seems worth noting. I felt hungrier for about one week, early on. I thought eating was a worthwhile thing to do. Briefly, I had chemical signals connecting food with pleasure centers in my brain; It was awesome! Like, I would think about and look forward to getting to eat. I would prefer certain things over other things, by a lot. That quickly dwindled back to my normal feelings and attitudes about food, which are not very exciting. Not at all. Sometimes eating is a real chore, in fact. The one thing that feels different now is that if I skip eating at a time I usually eat at, I will feel more motivated to catch up. In that way, I will feel hungrier if I don’t eat. That wasn’t really true before. Also, I’ve gained 5 or 6 pounds, which manifests in the one externally noticeable physical change going on – muscle growth, mainly in my arms, shoulders, pecs, and abs. Really psyched about this. Can’t go wrong with more muscles!
Warm and Fuzzy: I just feel cuddly and cozy. I feel connected to my body in a way I never have before. It’s really hard to describe, but I’m sure people can relate. Like, my clothes feel soft on my skin. Like, I’m walking on pillows and clouds, yet paradoxically, I feel totally grounded. Like, I had no idea how jagged and disconnected I was before; I had nothing to compare it to. These sensations have been dwindling over time – I think I’ve been getting used to them. Like the clouds are not quite as soft and pillowy as they were at first.
Sex Drive: Having a sex drive I can relate to is awesome. Being able to have sexual thoughts and have that be connected to a body sensation. My body responding to sexual stimuli. Having totally different sensations everywhere on my body than I used to, in a good way. Clitoral growth, which means actually being able to feel and experience erectile tissue sensations. Previously, junk was so small and sensitive in a bad way, it wasn’t all that fun.
Anxiety: The biggest, most drastic change, is anxiety: totally gone! Like general anxiety just disappeared into thin air. I still totally over-think things and mentally worry way too much, but the fact that those thoughts aren’t connected to physical anxiety responses is a huge relief. I was exerting so much energy on things that don’t matter! I was feeling so drained and limited by these feelings that I couldn’t get away from before! It’s a lot of work avoiding things that might trigger unpleasant internal responses; now I don’t do that nearly so much! It is totally a brain chemistry shift – I don’t know how or why, but it’s not something I’m worrying about haha. Also, emotionality overall hasn’t changed much. I still have been experiencing the same range and types of emotions, which I’m happy for. If anything, there might be a slight capacity to acknowledge anger and frustration now, which seems positive. I’ll have to see how that plays into my life.
I’ve been on Androgel, 1%, 1 pump (1.25g) per day. I started with 1.62% for about 2 months, but I started to see some changes that freaked me out (voice dropping and body hair growth), so I asked to switch to 1%. Which I did for 2 months (voice went back to where it was, body hair growth stopped). Then recently I started alternating between the two every other day. Which has been working out so far, and I like. I just hope I can continue to alternate my prescriptions. I might be questioned on that…
I have had some other slight physical changes that seem common: I feel warmer, body temperature-wise. I’ve had some pimples pop up, particularly in places I wouldn’t normally get pimples – thighs, butt, armpit(?) I’ve been slightly sweatier (my partner would say significantly sweatier, haha).
I want to be able to use testosterone for the rest of my life, but to not change much, physically speaking, over time, if possible. So far, it does seem possible. The internal shifts are too good, I couldn’t have even imagined, or dreamed them up, in advance. I’m still just hanging out, revelling in it all. One of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
lifting heavy things and reprioritizing privacy
Posted: August 13, 2013 Filed under: Janitorial work | Tags: genderqueer, janitors, non-binary, privacy, testosterone Leave a commentI was in Massachusetts last week; I didn’t have internet access! It was pretty great. Back at work yesterday and today, we haven’t been doing a whole lot. We’re in transitional mode – the bulk of summer work is done, and we’re gearing up for the school year. Teachers have been coming in and setting up their rooms, needing things, creating lots of garbage and cardboard to break down. I think next week is going to be busy, but for now, things have been comically slow at times. Like yesterday, my first day back after my vacation, I came in at 6:30am, moved about 3 boxes, and then we went on break until about 8:50am. And I can’t account for that time – I know co-workers were talking that whole time, but I was pretty much in a daze, and it felt like any normal 15-30 minute break.
Then today, we were going to be in the library for a while, cleaning, so I went to go find the radio we’ve been bringing around with us. I looked all over and couldn’t find it. I passed my supervisor in the hall and asked her if she knew where it was. She switched gears and started looking for it; I gave up and went back to the library. She eventually showed up without it. Then my co-worker (who really can find anything we’re missing) went to track it down. He came back and said he found it in a teacher’s classroom, but he couldn’t tell which one was hers and which one was ours. So he didn’t touch them. I then went down to the room to get ours. This all took about an hour. Then we listened to some sweet soft rock, to make our workday fly by. One major facet of our job (especially during summers) is remembering where we last left things that we commonly use. It’s an almost daily occurence that we’ll use a tool and then leave it behind and not need it until the following week and have no idea where we last had it. A lot of mentally retracing steps.
My co-worker has commented more than once this summer about how strong I am – about how I don’t look it, but I can really lift stuff. It’s really nice to hear, and true. I mean, I’ve always gotten right in there to lift heavy things, but I have definitely gained some muscle mass since being on testosterone. It’s the only noticeable physical change going on, and the only one I actually want and feel comfortable with; it’s all working out awesome so far. Also, it’s not noticeable at work to the point where it’s unusual. My uniform shirt is pretty baggy and bulky, so I think his comments are based on the amount I can lift with ease., as opposed to my appearance. It is noticeable outside of work though, like if I wear a tank top or tighter shirt. I’ve noticed some of my shirts feeling tighter / fitting better.
I imagine I’ll write more in depth about this at some point, but for now I just want to note that I am not out at work as non-binary. Nor am I out as trans*. I’m referred to with female pronouns, and I have never seriously considered advocating for that to change. It just feels like it would be draining, beyond belief. I’ve been pathologically private about myself, actually, until very recently when I started forcing myself to talk a little more. And I finally revealed that I have a partner, and that we’ve been living together the whole time all you guys (co-workers and supervisor) have known me (we’re talking like 6 years). But I forgot to drop a pronoun or name during that whole conversation, so I had to later use the word “girlfriend” even though I wouldn’t actually refer to her as such, just to be clear.
I’d been gradually realizing that all this secrecy was working against me and my ability to be an actual person while at work. Since opening up little by little, working relationships have shifted for the better, and I’m feeling significantly more confident and comfortable.
chest piece
Posted: August 6, 2013 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: chest, ftm, genderqueer, non-binary, self-injury, tattoos, top surgery Leave a commentA few years ago, I answered a call out for submissions for a new zine about about the trans/gender variant community and our relationships to our chests. I wrote a piece and never heard back about the project. I bugged them 2 or 3 times about it and still got no reply. At the time, this was really difficult for me because the piece was coming from such a vulnerable place. It’s just been sitting as a computer file since then, but I’m pretty sure it belongs here:
_______________________________________________
Slowly dissociating from my breasts. I used to have a love/hate relationship with them, but now I feel deeply disconnected and don’t think about them much. Unless I think they’re visible under my clothing, in which case I feel really uncomfortable and fixate on hoping no one notices. I’m lucky they’re so small. I can get away without binding if I wear the right layers. So I do that – limit my clothing options to save myself from tense back pain. I don’t take that for granted, the fact that I do not have to bind.
I used to cope with stress and frustration, fear and anger by cutting my skin. I often ended up focusing on my chest. A lot of times when I was alone, I’d be topless and fizzing with frantic energy. I’d envision their gory, bloody removal and bask in that thought. But I also loved them. It felt good when they were touched; they fit perfectly and comfortably in the palm of each hand. They seemed like they were a part of me / not a part of me … a part of me … not a part of me.
FROM 5/15/04: I was just wanting something intense to happen. Just by myself, here at the apartment. In addition, I have been obsessing about the removal of my breasts again. There was quite a while when I was ok with them, but I’m not anymore. So I had to pretend like I was going to cut them off. I used that knife and dragged it in sections to form a circle around both. Not deep. It hurt. No blood, but it’ll leave red marks. Like 2 bull’s-eyes. I kind of liked it, but now I look at them and what I did is fucking scary. No emotions to match these actions.
Now though, I don’t act out toward my breasts or dwell on the fact that they’re there. It’s sort of like I don’t really know them. Although sometimes I squeeze my nipples because it feels good, no one else can touch me anywhere near there, or oftentimes, anywhere on my skin at all. That chest is not a part of me.
I got my first tattoo this past fall. The image is a scratchy line drawing, a symbol I came up with to express my connection to a deconstructed gender identity. It’s on my chest, below my right clavicle – to the right of my sternum. I thought a lot beforehand, while thinking about placement, about whether to incorporate some pretty prominent scars… whether to see if the tattoo could hide them… whether to accentuate the scar lines with the tattoo… In the end, I wore a tank top that would hide the scars from the tattoo artist, and had the tattoo placed near them but not with them. Too much shame still surrounds them; they are too personal. The experience itself was exhilarating and euphoric; I was zoning, reaching a blissed-out state. And also pushing thoughts of self-mutilation from my mind with every pulse of the tattoo machine. Hours later, I was out to dinner with my person (who had also gotten a tattoo that afternoon), and emotions unexpectedly flooded in. Tearing up and unable to dissociate from the parallels between cutting my chest myself and someone else inflicting pain there. I talked about self-injury and she looked worried. She knows that was in my past, but I had never really talked about it with her. I wasn’t regretting the tattoo; I was realizing that the experience had been triggering, no matter how tough I seemed and how good it felt.
I’d like to get more tattoos on my chest. I fantasize about swimming, being shirt-less, with a sweet chest piece on display. I am pre-testosterone and pre-surgery (or am I no-hormone and non operative? I have yet to know). For now I continue this non-relating to my breasts/chest. Maybe someday that could change. Maybe someday I will have the chest I envision (flat and muscular, a male chest). Although I don’t feel completely male, I don’t feel completely here, in this body, either…
____________________________________________________
I wrote this in 2010. I’ve been feeling differently about my chest within the past few months, which is exciting. I had been increasingly wanting to get top surgery, for sure, at some point. But since being on this low-dose of testosterone, I’m not so concerned about it! It feels good to be touched there. Also, my pecs have gotten a little more prominent / maybe my chest is even smaller than before. For now, I can live with it! (We’ll see what the future holds.)
Also a quick rant: If you are collecting submissions for a project, a rejection letter / email is 100X better than no email at all. Or, if you end up just dropping the ball on your project, please let people who submitted know the status. I was wondering for a long time what happened after submitting my piece.
janitorqueer 