Looked through some old photos with my partner's family.
Looking back at them was mildly uncomfortable, since I was still presenting female, but even then to me I looked like someone pretending to be female in all of them.
Looked through some old photos with my partner's family.
Looking back at them was mildly uncomfortable, since I was still presenting female, but even then to me I looked like someone pretending to be female in all of them.
Staying with my boyfriend's family. Great folks (better than my parents in many ways, including gender stuff) but they slip up often and it really kills me inside.
I just find it hard to believe people see me as not female, especially when they reflexively use “she/her”. Seems like the only way out is to be so male that people can't slip up. Even though I'm not sure how important maleness is to me at all.
Sometimes I think I'm already living my ideal life, if I could just think of myself / call myself male. Despite being pre-everything I might already be exactly the kind of man I want to be.
But for some reason it just doesn't seem right yet.
DnD has the tropiest of tropes, so when I talk platonic gender expressions it's a good substrate.
My gender expression is male casters and female martials. Couldn't do a male fighter, though I think I could do a female sorcerer if they were grouchy enough.
Another thing non-binary gets me: I no longer need to explain myself in relation to being a woman.
Not that I'm entirely successful in that yet.
To be honest, I really like the idea of going on T for just the permanent changes and then stopping. That's why the skeletal changes make me excited. Something to take back with me.
I heard someone say that testosterone changed their facial bone structure, even in their twenties.
This is somehow the most exciting thing I've heard yet.
I desperately needed new shoes. Completely wore out my old ones. I am not gentle to my shoes.
Shoe shopping always depressed me though. I love men's shoes. Problem is my feet are small, even by women's sizing.
Women's shoes in male-ish styles don't really scratch the itch. What I like about men's shoes is often the fashion aspect—-detailing, buckles, different materials. For women's shoes the fact that they're masculine is usually the fashion statement, so they tend to be generic and uninteresting.
Children's shoes do a little better, but they also aren't quite the same. For one, I don't want shoes that look like they belong on a child. The bright side is that they're cheap. The downside is that they look it. Sometimes I just want some shoes that scream “this is a luxury product carefully designed and tailored.” Unfortunately very difficult to find that for children.
Nevertheless I did end up buying some shoes off the internet, and I'm looking forward to then. Got some casual gray shoes with leather detailing and some doc martens, both sized for kids.
Incidentally the book I'm working on now is probably Very trans as well. Not intentionally. It was just on my mind at the same time.
There are various ways this is true, but the foremost one is Erika as an Empath. Fundamentally her character was born out of a subversion of the Empath trope. The expectation of an Empath is someone emotionally in tune, caring; female. Erika is the opposite of this: crass, rude, murderous, emotionally repressed; but still female. She struggles and has mostly triumphed over the expectations of her as an Empath, but her struggle is ultimately against the reality of being an Empath, coming to terms with what she has and what she doesn't.
The analogy of Empathy to femininity is obvious. I'd imagine that transfolk might see a lot of similarities in the arc she takes.
Various details are mostly irrelevant but one of the characters (the deuter/antagonist) was Very trans without being trans. His internet person was hyperaggressive, brash but also witty and insightful. Unfortunately in real life he was short, unassuming, and had the hilarious name of “Errol” which he loathed. Fundamentally a story about being trapped in your physical body but being more.
I won a short story contest with this short story. Still remember being quite pleased when they told me that they thought a boy had wrote it.
Anyone with half a brain might have put the puzzle pieces together but not I.