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TW for internalised fatphobia, transphobia, basically just generally being a horrible bully but only to myself.
I don’t know what I am.
Queer or non-binary or just different enough to be awkward.
What do I want? What would make me ok?
I feel dysphoria, but can’t think of anything that could comfortably replace the anatomy I was born with. Maybe just a body that’s completely smooth and almost formless, nothing noteworthy, a blurry shapeshifter in the corner of your eye.
Sometimes I want top surgery, desperately, like it’s a basic need that I’ve been missing. There’s a weight on my chest that I shouldn’t have to carry. I’ve seen the results of top surgeries on various transmasc/non-binary people, and they’re beautiful. Even when the scars don’t heal that well, they’re beautiful. Sometimes my chest is comforting. Sometimes I check the mirror and worry at the thought of my chest ever being smaller than my stomach. That makes me feel guilty, because I’d never be that negative about anyone else, and then I have to cover up the mirrors. I don’t know which of these emotions is real, I don’t know what to follow.
I don’t want any of the organs and shapes that are related to ‘womanliness’ and childbirth and being a het man’s dream wife. I don’t want a monthly reminder of what’s wrong with me. This hourglass shape is wasted on me. It’s like an over-the-top expensive dress that’s pretty, but not for me. I don’t know if I could bear the thought of making a mistake that big, of cutting up this pretty dress just because I don’t think it’s perfect for me personally.
I love makeup, some of the time. When I choose to. When it goes perfectly. I shrink a little when people compliment it and call me ‘queen’ ‘girl’ ‘she’. It’s an easy mistake to make, when I look like that, when only girls are expected to spend this amount of time painting their faces to perfection. Sometimes I want facial hair. I’m scared it would make me painfully ugly. I’m scared the hair on my face would just form in patches like mold while the hair on my head shrank, and the skin that I’ve worked so hard to care for would change in ways I couldn’t deal with. Even if it turned out well, it still would be ugly because it would be on my face. Wrong. It would be easier for other people to tell the difference then, though. A beautiful girl or an ugly man playing dress-up. I’ve played with drag-king looks, blending the binary into one colourful creation, but a little nagging doubt in my mind just says ‘clown. You’re not fooling anyone’. I’ve done clown makeup, too, just out of spite. No one tells me what to do, not even my own grumpy everything-phobic brain.
I like bright clothes and colour-changing nail polish and eco glitter and dyed hair. I like having the kind of appearance that catches people’s attention and makes them smile. I hate being looked at. I hate being seen and not being able to control the overwhelming thoughts of ‘you don’t belong here’. I hate it because it’s right, to an extent, but it doesn’t offer any alternatives. Constant pressure and no promise of release.
I like seeing the changes that I’ve struggled to make over the years. I love those little moments after stepping out of the shower and catching a glimpse of my reflection at a different angle - water droplets catching light on my collarbone, the angles of my face, shoulder muscles just starting to show themselves, slight lines of definition where there was just softness before - those little moments when I can see my reflection and feel recognition, for once the only fleeting thought is ‘there you are’. It doesn’t happen often, or for long, but when it does…it’s golden. I shouldn’t base my self worth around muscles, because that’s not something I can depend on. It’s not something I can keep. But for now, it’s the only thing that feels ok.
I don’t think I’m a trans man, I don’t know if I can/should physically transition at all. I’m good at looking fem, everything else is unknown. If I had a doctors appointment, I have no idea what I’d say to them. You can’t pick and choose the effects of testosterone, you can’t go back from surgeries. There’s so many dangers and nowhere to hide.
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