Warning: This is a rant. It is not going to be a pleasant post. It’s not going to be about how well it’s going my transition, and how happy I am. So if you don’t feel like reading my complaints, please don’t read on.
Transition sucks. Especially at this point. And I’m not happy.
Yes, I know I’m making lots of progress. I’m really close to be able to change my documents, and I’m really close to have my SRS. But I’m not happy, and I’m not hopeful.
And I’m sad because I feel my body has stopped changing. My breasts grew a bit, but they don’t hurt now, they don’t feel swollen anymore. My ass is certainly a bit rounder, but my hips won’t grow, they won’t become wider. And my hair seems to be stuck. Some new hair grew, but not enough to cover my temples.
I’m not saying I am horrible. I look good. I look much better that I did at the beginning, or even before. I feel better with my body than I’ve ever felt before. What I’m saying is, when I get home and I remove all the padding I wear, in the bra and rear, I look at myself in the mirror and what I see is a man’s body.
I see a man because I don’t have hips. I see a man because I see broad shoulders. I see a man because my breasts could be taken for pectoral muscles. I see a man because I see a penis.
I’m afraid. I started my transition at this point because this was the only moment in my life I could dare to do it. I had the right environment, I had savings, I had a job in which I could dare to do it. I was, at last, living on my own. And I could take this decision.
Also I started because it felt right. I didn’t have the chance not to grow as a man. I didn’t have the chance to stop my puberty. And what I saw around, the transexual women I saw, in the media, were not role models for me. I didn’t want to become like them. I just wanted to be a woman. Because of this, because of my own fears, because of my self-rejection as a lesbian transexual woman, I didn’t step up then.
When I started this, it was my last chance to do it. It was my last chance to try to be something close to happy in my life.
And now I see that my body is a man’s body, still. I still will be patient, and let hormones do their work. But my hopes aren’t no longer high. I know that I’m going to have lots of surgery to have a body in which I can feel comfortable. I will have to put implants in my tits and in my buttocks. I’m already scheduled for my SRS. Hormones only work fine during puberty, and mine is a long time past.
It’s okay, I will save more money, and I will look for the best surgeons I can afford. I’m not defeated. I’ll have a body I’m comfortable in. A body that looks as it is, without paddings or tricks. I don’t care about the money, and I don’t care about the pain.
I know my transition is the path I should walk. I don’t regret anything. But right now my transition leads to a barren tree which can yield no fruit. I feel hopeless. And I feel alone, because I can’t talk about this to anybody without having to listen to lots of comments about how I should learn to accept myself, about beauty models, and about women having different bodies, and all that things.
I feel tired, and I feel alone. I feel tired because transition is not easy. It’s a lot of effort. And yes, it has paid so far, but I’d love it to be over, so I can just rest, and enjoy. And I feel alone because I can’t speak about it without the comments of my not trying hard enough to accept myself. I’m trying. But it’s so hard when the only thing you really long for in this life is being someone I can like.
Yes, the only thing I really wish for is being a woman, who looks like a woman, who feels like a woman.
And I still have a man’s body. And I feel I’m stuck in my male body, and that the only chance to change it is long gone. And I’m trying to accept myself, and people ask me why am I not happy yet. And they tell me that I ask for too much and that I should accept what I got. Well, if I could do that in the first place, I wouldn’t have started transitioning.
I just want to have this body all the time, not just when I put on all the padding to go out. Because here inside, at home, when I’m alone, I’m still stuck with my male body.