On March 18, 2017 I went to the male public bathroom for the first time. I was uncertain. It was spooky for sure, but I did it. I didn’t feel right going to the female bathroom either, and I couldn’t just wait until I got home. So I just went in there and tried to act cool. People did look at me, but I cannot tell why. People tend to look at me either way. It all went well. Except… boy, does that place stink.
Aside from my bathroom adventures, I was sick. Really sick. And it was just the beginning. That night I couldn’t sleep. I kept coughing and coughing. It was no fun at all. I spent the rest of the week taking medicine and visiting doctors, so I could get some time off work and rest.
On March 19, 2017 I couldn’t rest just yet. So I ended up back in public where I had to use the bathroom. I went to the male bathroom again. I feel that this is going to take some more practice before I feel fine going in there with other people around. Because that’s the only reason I feel uncomfortable. Since my sense of smell wasn’t dead yet, it was unpleasant. I also wasn’t sure why the stall doors were always… wet.
On March 24, 2017 I’ve noticed some hair growing on my hands. I must admit I did not expect that. And I am not too thrilled about it. It’s a bit strange. I wonder if my toes will get hairy too. But at the same time I realize that it’s just the man I am supposed to be. By the looks of it, I am not meant to be an all smooth twinkster. Or a twink. Whatever those terms are. In a way, this body transition is also teaching me to love myself for all that I am, and for all that I have, or don’t have.
Maybe I wouldn’t prefer to have hair on my hands at this time, but then I grew up to be conditioned to be hairless. As a woman.
That’s some food for thought. I never cared about having body hair before and I am not a big fan of shaving. But I was shamed for having body hair. Because women are not supposed to have body hair. As a man, I am free to be hairy all I want. As a woman, I must shave. This is one of the many lessons I have learned as a transman. I most definitely realized that my own perceptions of gender roles have been distorted. And I was conditioned throughout the years to believe that men and women each had certain “boots” to fill. That some things were only “manly” and other things were “feminine”.
It’s a dangerous… “game”. A slippery slope. I was told numerous times how liking stuffed toys wasn’t “manly”, or how crying was “girly”. How these two elements made me a girl, not a man. At some point I believed that was true.
But even if I didn’t know better, I always wanted to go against nearly everything I was “supposed to do”, just because “it had to be that way”, just because “everyone else lived that way”.
I wasn’t one to scream and shout. I was the silent rebel. I just kept, and keep on living my life my way. I enjoy my stuffed toys, and I don’t feel any less of a man just because I shed a tear or two.
My life is all mine. To create, build, or destroy.