I have been experiencing a bit of a rollercoaster of feelings this weekend. Well, not just this weekend, but even more so than usual.
As usual, I am bouncing between “I want to do this” and “I can never do this”. All the time. There is no way of taking a step forward. But also, there is no way of giving up the idea of transitioning. Both are impossible.
I have shaved all my leg and body hair growth off again which makes me feel better and a lot less masculine and dysphoric. I am still male though. I can make my legs look feminine and I can put on female underwear, but there is no doubt from the shape, that I am not a woman.
There was a young woman I saw yesterday and she was likely unaware that I even saw her, but looking at her made me feel bad. I wasn’t attracted to her particularly, although she had beautiful hair, but it was her shape that upset me. Maybe it was because she was wearing a tight stretchy top and baggy jeans that emphasised it, or that she had an especially feminine body shape, but the hourglass curve, in at her waist and out to her hips was so clearly defined and so totally feminine.
Naturally, I longed to be her, to have her body shape and to be so unmistakably womanly.
But that can never be. I could take hormones to develop my breasts and a rounder bottom and thighs but I can’t change by bone structure. I will never be able to have hips. I won’t ever have that hourglass curve.
I would like to try a waist training corset to try to create a somewhat female figure, but I don’t think that it’s possible to achieve what I would wish for.
So I was feeling pretty disheartened that I can never be a woman in the way I long to be.
When I went to bed, I put on my dark blue crop top, and was already wearing black bikini knickers. I like the crop top because it’s soft and comfortable
This morning, when I first went to the bathroom, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Because of the size and placement of the mirror on the wall, I didn’t see my face, and just from my shoulders down to my hips, the top of the knickers (but not the bit that gives away my maleness). Without body hair, and without the dysphoric cues of face and crotch, it looked like a woman’s body and I stared at myself for a while. Admittedly a flat chested woman with no curves, but I felt it. The absence of hair is a big part of it of course, but I think it’s also the way that the knickers sit so much lower on my body than boxers. This elongates my tummy with my navel midway between the band of my bra and the top of my knickers which is somehow very feminine.
So I go to bed disheartened that I can never look like a real woman, but then I wake up and see my body as a woman’s body. First I give up hope and know I can never transition. Then I feel feminine already and that transition is a natural step for me.
Back and forth. Back and forth.
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