Tuesday, March 10, 2009

"It's amazing what a pair of breasts can do."

Forewarned is forearmed, this might sound a bit "ranty".

Tonight I watched a documentary called "Teen Transsexual" on BBC America. It's the story of a 17 year old Male to Female transsexual, the whole coming to terms and transition story that you find in a lot of documentaries of this type.

I noticed as I watched the documentary I got more and more depressed.

Interviewing Lucy's mother, she explained how as a child, "Richard" was quiet and shy, keeping to himself, and how he was only happy when he was playing with his cousin's dolls. She discussed how after she began living as a female, how she blossomed, coming out of her shell. Her new appearance as a girl brought her renewed confidence, and beginning her surgical transition helped as well.

"It's amazing what a pair of breasts can do." Lucy said at one point, smiling in a bar with her mother and friends.

I suppose it is. I know each day that I struggle to hide mine, sometimes bound so tightly that it hurts to breathe, it's a DD-sized reminder of what a pair of breasts can do. While most days binding is the only way I can feel comfortable leaving the house, sometimes it feels like a punishment, as if the pain is a penance for the "wrongness" of my body. I think back to the nights lying in the dark, alone with fantasies of self-mutilation, of carving and peeling away the layers of skin and flesh until I could find the "me" that was trapped somewhere inside, or the days staring into the mirror, and wondering what exactly that "me" even looked like. Thirty years of wishing I could do something - anything - about the breasts and vagina I was born with but never felt any connection to, and not having any options.

I'm not a transsexual. I don't want to be a man, because I'm not a man. I can't be a woman, because I'm not a woman either. When I watch a coming of age story of someone discovering their "inner-me", and finally being able to make it an "outer-me", something inside me screams. Call it jealousy if you like, but sometimes, I wish I had a box I could fit into. I wish I could walk into a surgeon's office and say "YES that's what I want!"

Yes, Lucy, it is amazing what a pair of breasts can do. Where they have brought you joy, they have only brought me misery.


  1. I know what you mean about binding being a punishment. Every morning I push my bits uncomfortably up inside me and tuck the other back between my cheeks and place a strip of medical tape across then suffer through the day because of the shame i feel from them "hanging around". When i hear my FTM friends say how great packing makes them feel I scream inside my head "I wish i didn't have to pack!".

    "One persons trash is another person's treasure"

  2. It sucks not fitting into the gender boxes sometimes. My gender identity wanders about a bit so I would really need to be a shape shifter to fit my body to my identity.

    On the other hand I have a good friend who is FtM who simply has given up on binding and still carries of his (mostly) male gender presentation so it can be done.

  3. I just found your blog. I wish I could express how much this posting resonates with me. I fall pretty firmly in the middle of most of the sexual/gender boxes that one is expected to check... But I dream of waking up one morning to find my boobs have disappeared!


As always, be respectful of your fellow human beings.