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.

Obligatory Back Story Post

So I apologize for this, but I can't help but think about this whenever anyone tells me their life story. Sue me.

We interrupt this blog to bring you Natalie!

Abandoned as a pup, she was found by Muriel and her husband Eustace Bagge!

(BAAAAAH)

90s Cartoons aside (Oh, how I love them) Here's a bit of background about me.

So, before February of this year (at the crisp young age of 18) I had no idea who I was and didn't have any idea of what the terms Transgender, lgbt, pansexual, or really anything queer related meant. Gay people were people you saw on tv who really liked musicals. Trans* folk were a mockery one might have seen on Jerry Springer in the 90s.

I was a stereotypical (mostly) heterosexual dude,who sometimes, for inexplicable reasons wished he was a girl, liked to dress up in girls clothes, and sometimes found other dudes ridiculously attractive.

(Source)

(I mean, DAMN, who can not be attracted to this?)

This was sort of strange (In a rainbows and glitter sort of way), so I went off to military college where I could quietly repress my feelings in peace.

(And yes this is me, unfortunately)

As it turns out that doesn't work out as well as one might think.

Fast forward a few months of rigorous training, and in general, hating life.

I was on Reddit one night after lights out (If you don't know what Reddit is, and value your free time, I suggest not googling it, or if you do know about reddit then I'll assume you know when the narwhal bacons.), when I saw Ohbear's Transition timeline.

(How did you get to be so damn hot? I mean, hormones are magic, but daaaamn girl.)

Cue "Holy shit what am I doing with my life" moment.

Everything sort of clicked. It was that moment in the movie where you finally know for certain who dun it, and it was the person you least expected. Suddenly my life made a hell of a lot more sense.

And so I subsequently did a bunch of research, left the military school, transferred to a college near where I'm from and started transitioning. 

Hurray for me:

A. Recognizing absolutely awful life-changing bad ideas like joining the army, 

and

B. Recognizing really good ideas like, oh I dunno, realizing who the hell I am.

So yeah. There's a bit of exposition, so you know me a bit better.