Had my second shot 2 weeks ago, a smaller dose this time. I tensed up so the injection was painful & my soreness, while limited to the one leg this time, was intense for the following few days, especially after I ran for a bus. Following that, I was all but unable to walk for another day.
I’ve neglected my exercises but have mostly stayed on top of the mediation. I believe the breathing has improved my singing.
Thick dark hairs have appeared on the backs of my thighs, right above the knee. I remember my mother shaving the area on herself, the darker hairs conspicuous against her otherwise thin blonde fuzz.
When I began my transition I told a friend of the effects: the moustache, enlarged clitoris, so on. Her response was to laugh & tell me she had those things already. Gender is not so binary as we are led to believe.
As I type about the journey I am privileged to be on, I think about the world at large. We imagine history progressing in the right direction but that is not always the case.
A cisgender woman has been deemed to have “too much” testosterone in her system & barred from competing unless she takes steps to medically shift towards mediocrity. Meanwhile, the white house has sanctioned a doctor’s right to deny people like me medical care, because nothing says religious freedom like letting people die in the street.
All of these things are connected & effect each other. Whatever transphobia I deal with, even unbeknownst to me, has been validated by these high profile events. Bigots have been increasingly emboldened by the rising tide of fascism these past few years & it’s terrible to behold. What are you doing about it?
My belly button is becoming fuzzier, dark hairs appearing around the edges.
This week has been delightfully slutty. Nonetheless I remain insatiable, despite being on the tail end of my last injection. I was like this long before transition even began.
Successful sluttery has done a lot to restore my confidence; people find me attractive, despite feeling undesirable. Not just any people either, but gorgeous intelligent cool babes whose advances flatter me.
With this confidence also comes a renewed desire to practice patience. I pride myself on directness, but want to balance it with awareness. I hate to put my friends in the uncomfortable position of having to reject me, to say nothing of putting off potential collaborators & allies.
“You don’t seem aware of how people respond to you”
I’ve heard the sentiment before; perhaps I should internalize it. A friend repeated it recently as we stood sharing a cigarette under the full moon. I had confided to him my fit of crying, the paralyzing rejection. When people say this they always seem surprised, as though reacting to some dramatic irony: you, dear reader, can clearly see that I am loved & admired, but our hapless hero fails to notice the clues.
A few weeks later & I’m remembering my friend’s words. I’m noticing how happy people are to see me, the ways in which they make time & space for me. I’m relishing the ease with which I form connections, online or in person. The urgency with which I pursue intimacy seems silly in the face of how readily available it is.
But I am also trying not to be harsh towards myself; my vulnerability is beautiful, my open heart precious. The right people are being drawn in, each at their own pace. The rest were never meant to be.
I don’t seem to notice how people respond to me. Shocked when a glamorous drag queen confesses a crush. Baffled when a handsome twink leans in for a kiss. Skeptical when a fellow performer expresses admiration. I’ve been called intimidating before; funny, given how intimidated I am of most people!
One day I’ll have an accurate self-assessment, confident & grounded & aware & unbothered. Until then I will continue to pay attention & overthink. I hope one day I’ll be secure in my relationships, not reading rejection & abandonment in every unanswered text or missed plan. I will try to notice how people respond to me.
Happy #TransgenderDayofVisibility! Sending all my #love to my trans siblings who choose happiness over safety every day. Gratitude to all the visible trans people, especially the fags & #nonbinary babes, who were possibility models for me as I tried to navigate the tension between honoring my masculinity, femininity & attraction to men. It’s an honor to be a model for others, thank you for reaching out to share your own stories & journeys. Love to those who are unable to come out & to all the queer angels who have given me so much support as I struggle to find my place in the world.
This week’s update deals with unglamorous subject matter, so if you’re not into the grossest parts of having a meatsuit, maybe give it a miss.
We interrupt our emotional development series for banal physicality: spots have returned, erupting in tender pink pustular mounds scattered all over, from legs to shoulders to spine to chin, particularly on the thighs. It feels like my body demanding my attention in response to recent introspection.
Ass hair has returned with a vengeance – a few months ago I experienced a week or two of itching but it passed. This week the hair must have thickened because the itching & subsequent chafing became all but unbearable. For two days, every step I took burned, the redness spreading forward to my genitals as well. It seems to finally be settling, but I suspect this won’t be the last time it troubles me.
My facial stubble seems to be thickening & darkening as well, incrementally. Not enough to grow a beard but enough to feel compelled to shave a few times per week.
While I continue to suffer celibacy, this week has felt more emotionally stable than the previous. Feels are still challenging: I find myself sulking like a kicked puppy, my focus on wanting, rather than appreciation for what I have. Luckily I still receive support from friends & a night of sleep always works wonders.
A shopkeeper insistently led me to the men’s section, despite the nose ring which people seem to read feminine. The gender euphoria lasted for days.
I’ve begun to meditate, 10 minutes in the morning before exercising. I feel it’s helped me be more present, rather than just hyper-focusing on sexual gratification.
This week I shared a casual intimate touch with a crush & spent the next morning’s meditation grinning from ear to ear as the memory resurfaced.
I also had a lovely date with someone experiencing health issues which precluded physical intimacy. We had a great time but I found myself repeatedly checking the impulse to complain of their unavailability. In much the same way one does not lament to a widow how her personal tragedy is inconvenient to those around her, I had the basic empathy to realize that my friend was more affected by the circumstances than I. Nonetheless, the thought kept bubbling up, annoyingly persistent.
Observing this antisocial pattern made me realize it must have happened before. I wonder how often & how grievously my empathy (along with my foot, into my mouth) may have slipped in the past year, in this increased single-mindedness.
Throughout the week I found myself having interactions with people who’d seemed interested prior, but which were devoid of sexual tension. It took a moment to remember that people enjoy flirtation for its own sake. I enjoy flirtation for its own sake! But it seems I’ve fallen into the stereotype of men seeing false positives, as my brain sends up emergency flares at every hint of attention.
This chaos feels all the more absurd in light of how many existential concerns I have on my mind right now. Immigration is no easy feat, I’m traveling & performing non-stop, still unemployed & shortly to be homeless, yet the vaudeville hook of horniness keeps rudely yanking my brain away from important business & towards the pursuit of dick. C'est la T, I suppose.
Let’s talk about SEX baby let’s talk about… mostly me
[Seriously if you don’t wanna hear about my boner, skip this one]
I woke up Thursday feeling demoralized after going out two nights in a row & having a flirt that went nowhere. After wanking more times than advisable with a toy that hadn’t been cleaned in longer than I care to admit, I turned to every broke millenial’s therapy stand-in & posted on Facebook.
As with most of my queries these days, straightforward answers were thin on the ground. Nonetheless, I learned a lot.
First, I saw there wasn’t a secret I’d been missing. Testosterone puberty is brutal & a raging sex drive ain’t easy. At 30 I am better equipped for the ordeal than my friends were at 13, having a slightly more developed sense of boundaries, a modicum of communication skills & self-awareness, as well as access to online dating & sex clubs.
Secondly, I surmised from people’s sympathetic responses that perhaps I’ve been hard on myself. I felt so desperate & needy, terrified of pushing people away; but it seems the situation is not so dire as it felt.
Unfortunately the cycle of longing & insecurity is self-perpetuating; I hit on people (too many), am rejected (maybe not outright, but still go home alone) & the feeling of undesirability grows. The next time I flirt with more urgency & fragility, so my chances decrease.
Masculinity is isolating in many ways: people are less likely to check on me, for instance. But feeling like a horny little gremlin certainly plays a role in both making me less approachable & increasing my own feelings of loneliness.
I’ve had a few encounters since, some more satisfying than others. A particularly vigorous visit to a club on Saturday seems to have banged my brain back to a sense of normalcy & I was able to enjoy a drink with a cutie without needing it to go further. Baby steps.
I have acquired an single (1) chest hair! Eschewing traditional locations like the center of the chest or the areola, it has instead sprouted in the middle of my left breast, defiantly interrupting the broad expanse.
I’ve exercised 5 days this week! On the 4th day I felt it get easier; I don’t recall how long it took to feel progress before T but I am certain it must have been longer.
My regimen is not too rigorous but I’m proud nonetheless; building a routine is something I struggle with.
3 ×10 pushups 3 ×10 squats (holding ~15lb/10kg toy bag) 2 ×30 sec planks Some leg stretches (splits)
The whole thing takes maybe 10 minutes, so there’s room to expand once it becomes habit. I hope to implement a yoga routine & once the weather improves I’ll look into acquiring a bicycle as well.
I hadn’t noticed my shoulders growing; as a girl I was taught they were too broad so I mostly ignored them. My arms have gotten absolutely massive considering how little effort I’ve maintained in exercising them though, so it follows that the shoulders would do the same. My Freddie armband needs replacing & I’m sure soon enough my shirts will follow suit.
As if on cue, real spots have re-appeared on my ass & thighs, red & unforgiving.
I recently treated myself to masc lingerie: sock garters, shirt stays & a jockstrap. I felt cute as heck prancing around in them.
Someone asked me about the goal of my transition the other night. I explained that I didn’t desire any surgery (perhaps if I could snap my fingers & be rid of my breasts I would, but at this time they’re really not enough trouble to warrant a knife) (same re: genitals).
It seems silly to think in goal oriented ways when life is a constant shift – I struggled with a similar question regarding uni. Directions make more sense.
My “goal” in so much as it exists, is to live as a man – to move through social spaces as a man rather than a woman. I’m still getting my bearings but in many ways I’ve already achieved this. Hormones are mostly a way to help others see me as a man, although I enjoy the increased robustness of T. I always wanted a moustache but if I take after my father, facial hair is not in my future. At any rate, I’m happy with my shaper jawline, hairy butt & sturdier tear ducts.
I went to a party of gay men (there was one woman, a nonbinary AMAB & at least one bisexual, but the vibe was overwhelmingly mlm). There were several queens in attendance, albeit mostly out of drag. I knew a few people but was meeting most for the first time.
I’ve been in a gay male spaces before, especially as a drag performer, but I usually end up feeling hopelessly out of place amongst the muscular hunks & the imposter syndrome hits hard.
This time I did not feel this way. My friends made a point of checking in on me & a cute person flirted with me. There were very fit guys but also fat men, men in glasses, men with skin conditions, short men. Despite some cuddles & makeouts (not mine) the vibe was not overly sexual – guys were flirty & playful in a casually friendly way.
It made me nostalgic for the male friendships I had in high school, afternoons spent playing video games or making potato cannons. It was also better, because of the freely expressed affection I observed. Seeing men touching, kissing, dancing, showing off, laughing made my heart feel so full it might burst. I was overwhelmed with gratitude to be there, drowning in my love for men & the privilege of seeing them in such a carefree & vulnerable context.
In the morning I made breakfast & a few guys expressed their alienation from cooking. It was a sobering reminder of the many ways patriarchy fails men, leaving them reliant on women to meet their most basic needs. I want to organize a cooking class to help familiarize folks with a few easy recipes so they can feel confident exploring culinary art on their own.
When I left, two friends walked me to the door. They wished me a safe journey & asked me to text when I got in. I felt so loved & held I thought I would cry; the moment is seared into my memory, two bearded faces radiant with affection. I’m so glad I came out & can’t wait to see what the future holds.
Face squared off in a way I really enjoy; I hadn’t realized how dysphoric its roundness had made me until it became more angular. I’m much happier with my appearance.
Hairline has likewise squared off, the temples receding dramatically. I hadn’t noticed how much closer women’s temples are to their eyebrows before now.
In other previously unrecognized dysphoria, I love my voice now where I hated it before. It’s much deeper & I’ve been singing more then ever.
Leg hair has darkened & my pubic hair has expanded to my inner thighs, ass & belly. Slight blonde hairs have appeared on my chin & a few on my sideburns.
My clitoris has grown & my smell has become heavier & muskier.
Skin & nails have thickened, spots have increased; small bumps on my legs & arms have become more numerous & angry red zits will occasionally appear on my shoulders & bottom, although not much more frequently than before.
Breasts have deflated somewhat & weight has shifted from my hips to my belly. Thighs have become wider back to front than side to side. The V at the bottom of my abdomen has become narrower & more pronounced.
I had anticipated building an exercise routine & hoped to be in better shape by now but I’m afraid that hasn’t happened. Nonetheless my arms have become larger & more muscular.
I cry less frequently & I’m horny all the goddamn time. When upset, I am more likely to anger when before I’d experience a wider range of negative emotions including sadness, helplessness & frustration. I’m quicker to make decisions & spring into action.
I feel more alone. Not necessarily in a sad way, just… more aware of myself as an individual rather than a member of the group. More likely to act on my own judgement than follow social cues. I worry that my self-centered behavior will push people away – with some it already has.
A week ago I had my first T injection. Normally a dose so large would be administered into the gluteus but lacking trained medical professionals we elected to split it into two shots, one in each thigh muscle. For all my needle anxiety, the shot itself was all but painless.
The next day found me in agony which only increased as I preformed on my injuries. By day 5 the pain faded to a slight ache & day 7 found me back to normal.
Effects were immediate: my small spots have increased, doubling or even tripling in number. My weight shifting from my hips to my belly is a long term change but it feels like it’s happened more dramatically.
The hair on my belly has thickened slightly while the veins on my arms seem more prominent. A small patch of dark hairs has sprouted just under my lower lip, invisible unless I smile or otherwise flatten the area.
In high school I confessed a crush to a friend, whose response was, “you have a crush on everyone.” This hasn’t changed; I’m a little bit in love with all of my friends & have asked out a sizable fraction of my acquaintances. I wonder if testosterone makes me more likely to sexualize the people in my life? Between the wrestling, football & martial arts, my levels must have been high back then, too. I wish I had a larger sample size.
A week without hormones. No dramatic changes, though I cried when talking about the importance of sex work a few days ago. My face seems softer & rounder in this photo but I’m sure it’s too subtle to notice in real life.
Outbreaks of spots have been strangely reassuring, as though attesting to still high testosterone levels. I was able to exercise a few times (squats, push-ups & planks) but finding the discipline has been a challenge.
Luckily, a friend was able to acquire an injectable dose for me! The doctor recommended shots this summer but I declined on account of my fear of needles. Unlike the daily topical application, this one will last 3 months; ideal for someone in my unstable situation.
The dose is 1000 mg which is standard but sounds so much higher than the 50 mg I’m used to. I keep imagining myself hulking out, a bushy carpet sprouting on my face & chest as my now bulging biceps tear my clothes to ribbons.
While it’s unlikely to be so dramatic, injections are known to be more effective than gel. I wasn’t particularly fussed about speeding the process along –everything is happening pretty fast already, honestly – I can’t help but be excited to see what happens next.
I had some uncertainty this week; am I actually trans? Maybe I’m a confused woman. But trans men can be gay, effeminate bottoms. If we depathologize transness & queerness (i.e. hold them as valid identities rather than aberration) then wanting to be a gender is as good as being a gender. I asked friends how they knew they were trans but did not see myself in their stories of presenting clearly as their gender, of knowing from a young age. Sure, I have stories of playing with boys & feeling so much more comfortable than with girls, discomfort increasing as hormones made hangouts more fraught. I still don’t know what maleness is, but I think it feels better; but the social costs of transition remain scary.
If I see one more post about ‘’transtrender pride’’ I’m leaving this fucking website. The whole point of the word ‘’transtrender’’ is about someone FAKING being a part of a community, when did it become acceptable ?
Me: A girl can be masculine and still be cis, and a boy can be feminine and still be cis. They might be trans but that’s not for you to decide for them. By saying “Masculinity = Male” you’re reinforcing harmful gender stereotypes that are sexist such as “Women like dolls and dresses and painting their nails so if a boy likes those things he must be trans female.”
Very simple, easy to understand.
Lovinglystar: HAHA YOU’RE A TRANSPHOBE FUCK YOU FUCK YOUR TRANSPHOBIC ASS HEY EVERYONE LOOK AT THIS TRANSPHOBIC ASS HOLE EAT SHIT AND LIVE ASS HOLE FUCK YOU ACTUALLY DIE I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU SAID FEMININE GUYS CAN’T BE TRANS FUCK YOU YES THEY CAN
Me: Hey, everyone! Get a load of this actually insane person! How, exactly, am I transphobic? Could anyone answer that question for me? Not you, Lovinglystar, you just put a bunch of words in my mouth I never said and misunderstood my post because you have the reading comprehension of a really round beetle.
And here’s some conversation snippets for you to enjoy.
Just a few examples of how Lil Miss Jay (and definitely not any of these other people) is apparently transphobic and makes the trans community look bad.
So let this post serve as a list of who y’all can block if you want actual psychopaths out of your life.
Trumeds: We’re just protecting the community and real trans people! We’re just trying to help!
Also trumeds: *mass report dysphoric trans artists and activists to have their blogs taken down and get them post blocked for either disagreeing with them, or for being GNC in the “wrong way” and loving their transness (which they’ll take as “proof” of them being “trenders”)*
I’m extremely anti trumed, just in case you didn’t know
Smash the patriarchy. Clothing, presentation, makeup… it’s all for anyone.
I have sensory issues that prevent me from binding more than occasionally. I would like to not have bulging chest tissue, but most days I suck it up and wear a supportive bra because I feel it less than my more flattening options. I can’t pass no matter how much I imitate typical American male fashion and culture. I like pastels and have a doll face. I’m no less valid than any of my binary trans friends. My experience is totally different, yes, but that does not make it invalid.
oh no all y'all “tumblr trannies uwu” are going to come after me in a few years because I will not only have a degree in biology but I’m also currently a psych major and none of this changes the fact that I will always be “truscum”
