I introduced myself here and then immediately went silent, which is pretty much my MO for every virtual community I’ve ever been a part of. Life got in the way, as it usually does. Neville the pup has made an almost full recovery (he’ll always be a gimp). In large part, my silence has been because I’m still waiting to hear back from two grad school programs, and it’s making me (more) neurotic and (excessively) ill-tempered. I decided to spare you guys the temper tantrums my girlfriend cannot avoid. You’re welcome.
The past few days, I’ve been watching FtM videos on YouTube. It’s one of my favorite topics to watch videos on, and I have a hard time pinpointing why. I’m so impressed with these trans* men and the courage they have to transform their lives. I also happen to find many of them exceptionally attractive before and after transition. I just find the whole journey fascinating, and watching the physical and mental metamorphosis is completely enthralling to me.
But it also instills in me a vague, achy sense of yearning. Yearning for what, though? I never know if the dysphoria these videos cause in me is due to gender identity or weight and self-perception. If I lost a hundred pounds and my breasts and hips and ass all shrank, would I still have that whisper in the back of my head telling me “this isn’t it either”? I don’t know where weight dysphoria ends and gender dysphoria begins, or vice versa.
When I first came out, my mother asked me if I felt like I might be trans*. I told her I felt like God flipped a coin and it landed on “girl” but it could’ve landed the other way just as easily. I’m not sure that answer worked for her, and I’m honestly not sure it works for me. I don’t want to be a coin balancing on its edge or flipped the wrong way.
The thing that worries me most is that I think about being trans* the way I thought about being gay before I ever really acknowledged I was queer. I think of it in “that is so great and I wouldn’t mind it if I turned out to be that, but I don’t think I am” terms. But I’m betting I think about it more than I would if my subconscious weren’t trying to gently tell me something.
I would like a dick and a beard. I would like to be slim and fit and trim with abs and broad shoulders. I also want to keep my ability to bear children and to get called “sweetheart” by adorable old men. I do not think of myself as a woman. I cannot imagine myself as a man.
Perhaps the drawback to finally having the science to change ourselves is the fact that with that power comes choices we might’ve been able to avoid before– questions that went quietly unasked. Now every coin has two faces, and you can call the toss.
Heads or Tails?