When she looked in the mirror she saw a man. During puberty her body had changed in a way that broke her heart. When the other girls were talking about pending dates and trying out for the drill team, she was sitting alone in her room on Saturday nights and her father expected her to join the basketball team. When the other girls at school were trying different colors of lipstick and admiring their developing breasts in the mirror, she was shaving her chin and looking at a male organ that had gotten larger and darker.
She couldn’t understand why she didn’t fit in. Through puberty and her early teenage years, she never felt an urge to act or look masculine. She just wanted to be herself, which meant a perpetual struggle to be accepted, failing no matter how hard she tried to fit in. She identified with the girls, but didn’t look like them. She looked like the boys, but couldn’t understand why they liked to play baseball, hit each other on the arm, or yell catcalls at the girls. But by the time she finished high school, she had a plan.
After college, two years into her new career and a long regimen of hormone therapy, she finally looked like a woman. Her breasts had developed and her hips had taken on soft round curves. Born with the name Michael, she was now Michelle. She wore heels and flowing dresses and carried a purse. Mind, body and soul, she was completely female, except for the final operation: genital reassignment surgery. She didn’t know that she would fall in love with a wonderful man before that day came, nor was she ready for the challenge of telling him her secret.
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Over time her hips have rounded out. Her body body has taken on the characteristics of a female. Her body hair has thinned and now grows less aggressively, which she has treated with a laser hair removal procedure. She has developed breasts, probably achieved a cup size of B or possibly C. She may consider breast augmentation surgery.
Her testicles have shrinked and may eventually cease sperm production. Her erections have probably lost their masculine dynamics, though some girls continue to achieve them and are able to use them as they always have.
Eventually the hormones have transformed her. She is physically more female than male, except for her genitals. She is thinking about genital reassignment surgery, a process that, if she chooses to bear the enormous expense and if she is in competent hands, will complete her transition.
But what if she decides to forgo the surgery or can’t afford it? If she wants to fall in love with a man, she’ll need a man that accepts her the way she is, a man that thinks he’s found the most beautiful woman in the world, that recognizes the intimate possibilities many men could never fathom.
It’s food for thought, given the fact there are so many men that are attracted to both genders. According to the poll on this page, many men would find themselves in paradise being loved by such a woman. Think about it: he can take her home to meet his unsuspecting parents; he could walk hand-in-hand with her in public without anyone being aware of their little secret.
Also see Accommodating Women
They are women that were born in a male body. From their earliest memory, they see the world through a woman’s eyes. They come to a point in their lives when they begin a transition. Their goal is to physically become a woman. To complete the transformation, many subject themselves to genital reassignment surgery. For reasons of their own, many of them will forgo this last step. They are women in every way except they have a penis. Many men see them as they are as perfect women.
A transsexual female relates the emotional trials of transition.
Out shopping one day, shortly after I turned sixteen, I walked down a well-lit hallway that led to the public restrooms. Rounding a turn in the hall, the two doors came into view on opposite walls. Before turning away from the women’s room, as I stared at the door, quick flashes of a more Utopian life passed through my mind. A middle-age woman glanced my way before disappearing inside. It would have felt natural to follow her in, though that would have made her gasp in horror.
That’s because I still looked like a man, barely a year out of a late puberty. Not a masculine man, a wimpy one. Still, during puberty, my body had changed in a way that broke my heart. When the other girls at school were looking at their new breasts in the mirror, I was looking at a penis that had gotten larger.
Call it a temporary lapse, me wanting to forget my body’s configured differently than the other women that use that room. Given certain circumstances, I would have these fleeting fantasies of feeling normal; usually followed by memories of the day my mother, after catching me looking at myself in the mirror in a pair of nylon panties, went through every drawer in my room and threw out all the female intimates I had hidden; or those days in junior high PE class, changing into those awful gym shorts, invariably humiliated when Johnny Perkins taunted me, mocked my slender hairless body, my girlie white skin, my small boyish penis.
It was my sense of self, my feminine sensibilities that urged me to use the restroom I felt most comfortable in, instead of facing the lifelong dread of making myself go in and pee with the men. It didn’t matter the rest of my world saw me as a man, for me it was impossible to accept. It didn’t matter my shoulders were small and my protruding nipples sometimes felt swollen and sensitive, as if they were about to blossom into full blown breasts (but never did); I was stuck with the basic shape of a male. It didn’t matter if I secretly shaved my underarms and legs; I still looked like a man. But I’m not. Not then, that day at Macy’s; not now. I’m a woman. Born a woman and destined to stay a woman for the rest of my life.
I had been looking at the swimsuits in Macy’s, wondering what I would look like in a stringy two piece, never mind being almost decade away from all the necessary treatments and operations. I would do things like that to escape the tormenting world I lived in, always checking to make sure no one who knew me was in the store before holding something up in front of the mirror to see how it would look on me.
So how do I describe the conflicts that haunted me every time my parents looked at me with unspoken questions and doubt; every time the boys mocked me and called me a sissy while the girls looked on with detached pity; every time I saw a dress in a store window I’d love to try on, but to do so meant I must be a pervert; every time my eyes fell on a boy’s lips I would love to kiss, only to realize kissing me was the last thing he would want to do? Continue readingPin It
You grow up wondering what’s wrong with you. You want to play with the other little girls because you identify with them, but you are expected to play with the little boys. You finally reach your early teenage years, only to face the horrors of what’s happening to your body: facial hair, hairy arms and legs, genitals that have only gotten bigger and more prominent. You can’t believe how deep your voice has gotten.
Everyone says you’re a boy because you look like one. They don’t know or care how you really feel inside. You come to realize you are a girl born in a boy’s body. Life is basically a miserable experience until the day comes that you finally decide.
You don’t have to look like a boy. Looking into it, you learn all about the treatments and procedures. Hormone therapy comes first, usually accompanied by psychological therapy. There is voice training because your voice doesn’t change with estrogen therapy. There is facing your friends and family and hoping for acceptance. And finally, when you finally look like a woman, when no one could guess you aren’t, you have to decide on the last step … genital reassignment.
You start the hormone therapy, a slow process, pills or injections or both. Eventually your breasts begin to appear, your nipples start getting larger, more like a woman’s. The hair thins on your arms and legs. That which doesn’t disappear, you deal with using laser treatments. Your skin gets softer, smoother, more supple.
The bulk in your upper body begins to disappear. Your shoulders grow smaller, your arms thinner, your back narrows and you feel weaker. The new layers of fat in your lower body give your hips a softer, more rounded feminine look. Your mood is subject to change in different ways, something akin to PMS.
Your testicles have shrunken as well as your prostate. You no longer produce sperm. Only a small amount of seminal fluid produced by your prostate comes out when you ejaculate. Your erections are probably less dramatic, or perhaps all but non-existent. Your sex drive is less aggressive than it was when you were still physically a man.
Two years pass. Your breasts have reached size B, or if your lucky, size C, very few girls Continue readingPin It