The "Wrong" Body

There's a common narrative in many trans* stories about being born "in the wrong body", or a being a woman in man's body, or vis versa. This has been exacerbated, and in some part perpetuated, by medical gate-keeping communities. (A shrink might say "Oh your story doesn't quite match up with everyone elses? No hormones for you." so what does the trans* person trying to get on hormones say? Exactly what the shrink wants hear.)
That's not to say that's the "wrong" trans* narrative. If that fits for you, then by all means use that to make sense of your identity.

But it's never really fit for me personally.

So I'm a pretty narcissistic person (understatement of the century).

I love mirrors as well as pictures of myself, but probably not for the reasons that one would expect.

I use these to gauge myself. To see how much of the person looking back at me is "me"

Usually it's not a lot. If I tilt my head a certain way, put on the right make-up, wear the right clothes and stand in specific ways, and the lighting is right, and planets are aligned, then I can almost begin to seethe person looking back at me as "me".
Pictures of me "in the wild" almost never are actually of me.

They're someone else. I remember getting the pictures taken, and I saw through the eyes of the person that was in that picture, but that was never me.

It was a puppet. I moved the strings, but the puppet was never me. Certainly mine, but never me.

This idea of ownership as well as identification I think is at the heart of dysphoria for myself.

When I look at a picture like this

Anybody who knows me would tell me that is me. But it doesn't feel that way for me. I mean technically, yes, It's me. But it feels like a puppet. A costume.

It's not a matter of poor body image. I dare say I was a pretty attractive person as a guy. I was fairly built, and didn't have any problem gaining muscle. I have a pretty good complexion and personally I think my eyes are pretty. (I told you I was narcissistic.) From the point of view of someone whose attracted to all sexes, dissociating myself from the fact that was a picture of my body, I think the guy in that picture is pretty attractive, and probably more so than I am now, presenting as a girl.

But that picture isn't me. I don't see that and see myself. That's not my body. That's not who I am. That's could just as well be some dude. But when I see that my brain has to mentally grapple with the fact that IS me.

And that's dysphoria for me.

It's not the wrong body. It's certainly mine. But it's not an indescribable "me". I don't see myself. I see a puppet.

Transitioning has and continues to make a huge difference. I can look in the mirror and seeing myself looking back at me rather than some puppet isn't a fleeting experience any longer.

It still requires some illusion, If I'm not wearing make-up or somewhat girly clothes the costume looks like it's back.

But I see photos like this that were taken as recently as this week:

 

And I see myself.

It's not perfect. I'm still transitioning. But that's an infinitely better representation of me than the last picture. Those photos are spaced at most seven or so months apart.

A lot can change in seven or so, and I'm curious about the next seven or so months.

And I'm hungry for more pictures. More pictures of me. 

I want to get know me better.

But also I want to show me to other people. I want my parents, my classmates and my sisters, my friends, and acquaintances, my lover, to all see me, and recognize me, not as some costume or puppet

But as me. 

As Natalie.

Because it makes a world of difference.

A little post.

So sometimes I really need bitch.

Okay. Let's be honest. I bitch about things ALOT.

(I can't help myself. It gets me everytime)

But sometimes its nice to look at the positives.

And my life is super awesome right now.

I'm on hormones and transitioning to who I want to be. Changes are becoming apparent. I get to dress up the way I want to.

I have a great group of friends who I hang out with.

A community that accepts me.

A girlfriend who I'm madly crazy in love with, whose in love with me.

I'm in line to have a dream job for the next few years, and provided I get it I won't have to worry about money until I graduate. 

I'm going to school for something I love, taking classes I enjoy.

I live in a sweet house with great roommates.

I'm in a fucking band, making money, for making music. And loving every minute.

Life is fucking awesome.

When I first came out, and the months after, while still at military school, and a lot of the summer afterwards I was in a really terrible place. I didn't' think things would improve.

I'd be pleased to see myself now.

I wish I could go back and tell me life's gonna be great, just hang in there.

Because I didn't have too much in the way of hope.

Because now life is fantastic.

That is all.

Week Five

So Christmas has just passed, and 2011, as well as winter break from school is rapidly coming to an end, Which means a bunch of friends are coming back to the lovely little college town I live in to drink with me. Oh, and school.

Which is awesome.

Anyways, word vomit from the week.

Starting with fun HRT stuff; Let me preface this with the fact I haven't actually put on any additional weight (although I'm read quite a bit of anecdotal evidence that E usually means weight-gain, so it's probably coming)

I feel like I'm starting to fit into my jeans a bit differently. They're seeming a bit tighter, which means apparently my ass is getting larger. To be completely honest I'm not sure it really is. It's likely just my imagination, but luckily for me, that's why I keep pretty regular body measurements so I'll be able to say whether or not it really is in two weeks or so.

My abs are also no-longer is the 6-pack it once was. It's quite a bit more fleshy. I mean I don't have a gut or anything but it's just sort of a bit more flat. I'm not sure if that's from fat beginning to redistribute itself, not actually having worked out for almost 9 months, or me gaining fat and at the same time losing muscle, keeping my weight the same. Most likely a combination of all three. I mean I definately still have a dudely looking stomach, but it's an interesting change.

My chest is also starting to appear to be shaped a bit differently. It's hard to put into words. It still hurts like hell, but that's definitely getting a little more fleshy too. Which, not going to lie, I'm super-stoked about. Who doesn't like boobs? But I don't think I qualify to have anything placed into a cup-size.

Emotions are really just continued craziness. Everything is so much more extremely intense than it was before, but in a really awesome way. I mean I really can't complain. Even being sad is better than pre-hrt.

I'm getting weirdly really super-excited about small things. Like something cool happening on a show, or getting a heart container playing zelda has me jumping around my room with happiness.  Which is really cool. Happiness is always a plus.

And (family, look away) my sex drive seems to be returning. Might get a bit TMI here, but after getting on testosterone blockers you realize how much that chemical really just makes you want to HUMP EVERYTHING. And that feeling pretty much just disappears after you're on T-blockers. I mean don't get me wrong, I still got aroused, but it took a lot more to get me there, and didn't just sort of happen randomly, while I was making eggs or something. Since starting estrogen, my sex drive seems to be slowly returning but arousal is definately a different sort of feeling. It's difficult to put into words, and I could probably write a whole post about it, but it's much more of a whole body sort of feeling rather than concentrated wholly in the pelvic region. Which is pretty awesome.

ANYWAY, switching gears slighty.

I've  made a new record for bursting into tears at the most innocent thing: Sitting at my computer and this song coming on.

(Although to be fair, it's an absolutely beautiful song by a terrific band)

So yeah emotions. Crazy shit.

Christmas with my family went pretty awesomely if I do say so myself. I mean my family doesn't use my preferred name or pronouns or anything, but the highlight of my Christmas (aside from seeing my little brothers unwrap there presents, and then me subsequently stealing all their toys and playing with them) was seeing my name on Christmas gifts from my wonderful sisters, and even on about half my gifts from my parents, which was pretty huge for me, and really meant a lot.

It was also really terrific to see my lovely oldest sister, Taylor, and her wonderful husband, Dom, which doesn't happen enough, since he's in the army and they live together way down in the far away land of North Carolina.

After Christmas didn't go so well though. I had a bit of a falling out with my mother, which sucks. But I'm pretty confident it won't last too long. I know she cares a lot for me, but for the time being, I guess we're not really talking, which is pretty saddening. I wish they didn't, I suppose these things happen.

I am incredibly excited for New years though. Friends are coming back, school is starting back up, all sorts of fun shit. And the beautiful girl I'm talking to is finally coming back. Sempur stoked.

I'll probably do an actual New Years post, hopefully before midnight tomorrow, but if not then probably on New years day, because there definitely is some stuff I'd like to get into writing about 2011 and the new year, but this post seems to be plenty long enough as is. I'll try to get an awful drunken photo of myself to post on the internet tomorrow.

Toodles