This piece was written a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve been hesitant to publish it for different reasons, but here it is!
My childhood wasn’t filled with moments of “I just knew I was born in the wrong body”, not even in hindsight. But more and more memories are coming to life as “moments that could count as gender-disorientation”.This is the only picture of me as a child that I really like and that I can recognize myself in, and that’s the way it’s always been.I was a very odd one, at least for being a girl. I loved floor ball, computers and fantasy. Boy things. And I never really tried to like girl stuff. I never got the hang of playing with dolls, I changed their clothes, but that’s all. I played a lot with Lego and my very best friends were boys. In middle school boys and girls started to socialize more separately, but I stubbornly kept socializing with both boys and girls. I played pool or cards during recess with the boys instead of reading fashion magazines with the girls. However I kept dancing ballet, and I’ve always enjoyed sowing.When puberty hit I covered up in long sleeves, had sports bras and long trousers. I had no makeup and refused to wear a bikini. When we went to the beach I would often sit fully clothed with a towel covering my head to shield me from the sun. I despised my period and I couldn’t see myself having sex like ever so I thought seriously about becoming a nun. I never enjoyed being recognized for my feminine qualities, but rather for my male qualities. Like being good at math and science, being a fierce back in floor ball, being thorough and logical. I cared little about my appearance other than dressing modestly and not drawing attention towards myself. But I never felt that I was born in the wrong body. I felt something wasn’t right, but when I realized I was gay I just thought that that was the reason I felt so different from the other girls and boys.
And then there’s the penis issue. I never even thought about the possibility of having a penis before I realized I was a trans man and I’ve never felt that I miss not having one. So as my first appointment at the gender clinic is coming closer (although there’s months left still) I started to think about what kind of bottom surgery I would want, if any. I’ve tried to imagine how it would feel to have a dick and balls and how I would feel about it. If I lay naked in bed and roll to my side, how would a penis and balls act? How would it feel? Will I still think about it at all after a while? Will it feel the same way that my boobs feel? Will I feel the same thing as I do towards my boobs – a simple tolerance to its movements but mostly ignoring it. That’s not a good feeling. I don’t want to go through surgery and then feel indifferent about my new things.
It turns out that my imagination sucks and I guess that’s one reason I’m so indecisive. I feel like I really want balls, that’s one thing I really do miss, but do I want a dick so bad that I would consider surgery? I’ve started to question if it wouldn’t just feel like it’s in my way all the time, I mean stuff flopping around in my groin as I move around.
Just in time, in the middle of my pondering, a small packet arrived by mail. At last my packer is here after almost four weeks in transit over the Atlantic. It’s arrival was very timely, now I don’t have to use my poor imagination as much anymore. I was a little hesitant at first to use it, considering my previous thoughts about floppy things on my body, but after just a day of wearing it I don’t want to take it of ever again. Then my period just started, and the thought of having a penis and period at the same time yucked me out so much that I left the packer at home. It felt so wrong not having the bulge between my legs and I felt really naked! So I guess I don’t have to worry anymore about what I might feel considering bottom surgery…