Spin Me Right Round

Hello boys and gurls, it's been a SPELL!!!

As ever, my blog is littered with drafts that will never see the light of day.

Part of the problem is that everything is moving so quickly, these days. Every other day there's some new attack on trans/NB/genderqueer folks and it's EXHAUSTING. I swear you'd think we've solved all the world's problems and folks have nothing better to do than come after us. The most recent thing that set this post back WEEKS was the Cass report thing. 

I really shouldn't let it affect me this much, but this has become, effectively, a detrans blog. And if I start speaking frankly about how my views on gender have evolved (i.e.: we should get rid of it), I fear I might run the risk of coming across as sympathizing with transphobes in this highly polarized environment.

But a bigger part of it, I think, is that things have been moving very, VERY quickly with myself. As recently as early this year, I felt fairly confident that I wouldn't regret any part of my transition, though I would probably do things differently if I could go back in time. But right now I feel pretty confident that I do feel some regret over taking hormones for so long. Just a few weeks ago I was writing that I might consider breast reduction in a nebulous, distant future; yet lately it's felt increasingly like an inevitability. I've gone as far as researching methods and costs, and have begun squirreling away a bit of money for it.

Flat-Chested Faggotry

Somewhere along this journey, I forgot that my goal for this blog, and this journey's raison d'etre, was to turn me into a faggot. I wanted to make myself identify as male, and I wanted to make myself gay. But through it I discovered that I wasn't doing any "turning," there was no transformation, I was instead liberating myself by discarding pieces of armor that had been weighing me down.

As I recognized more and more that my transition was an ill-advised way to survive a heteronormative world, and that instead of leaving my closet I was hopping into a separate one, this blog, and my journey, shifted focus. It became less about "becoming" a better version of myself, and more about "exploring" who I really am.

After my brief visit to the ER late last year (thanks, COVID), and having medical permission to stay at home for a few months, I started cozying up to my male side. This year it'll be 4 (or is it 5?) years I've been off hormones and my body's changes are inescapable. Body and facial hair are a bit denser, and grow much more rapidly; my fat distribution has become a bit flatter (though I've also lost weight); my libido is unquenchable. Normally, I would've been distressed by masculinizing changes to my body, but I decided instead to make peace, and learn to live with them.*

So far, I'm happy to report, I've been very happy with my results. While I still prefer to be hairless, I no longer get this terrible dysphoria when I get a bit of hair. It's not that I like having facial hair, mind you, I really don't, but I also don't hate how it looks anymore, and I don't have this inescapable urge to rid myself of it.

Still, a big surprise has been how I've felt with a flatter fat distribution. While I still prefer my body smooth and hairless, I find that a more boyish/male figure feels more flattering and sexy than a curvier one. It also feels a lot more correct, and a lot more "me." And this is why I find myself increasingly unhappy with my breasts. Small as they are, I don't want them anymore, they look and feel out of place.

For a very long time I'd envied women, because they got to wear pretty things, they got to paint their faces, do their hair, look sexy and glamorous, and I wanted all these things. Heck, I still do, which is why I will remain forever a transvestite. But all that time I figured that my only avenue to have these things was to become a woman, and for this, I thought, having breasts was crucial. Now I find that they're not that important.** While having breasts helps, one can be fairly convincing with a flat chest -with or without breast-forms.

What I wish I'd known back then, is that it's makeup, hair, clothes, and poise, that sell femininity, not breasts.

Also would've been helpful to know that I'm a gay boy.

Because I'm at a point where I'm fully comfortable identifying as a faggot, as male, and I want my body to match that. Now, to be clear, I don't want a man's body - I don't want to be big, or muscular. I'm happy with my smaller frame (though wouldn't hate it if I could shrink it some). And I want to still have some degree of androgyny where I can comfortably wear speedos in public, but also be able to pass well enough in a wig and a bikini.

Ultimately I think what's most important to me is that my body be unambiguously male on its own. That I can pass as a girl in public, but that in private it becomes clear and inescapable that I'm a boy in a wig. I want it to be obvious to men, when they're having sex with me, that they're banging a faggot.

Rejecting Womanhood

A big theme for me these past few months has been rejecting womanhood, and embracing malehood. Though perhaps "rejection" is too strong a term; re-evaluating might be more apt. As part of this exploration of mine, I've been probing my identities' limits further and further, to see which bits are authentic and which are a mirage. Now, this is easy to do when you're at home all day, but when my treatment ended, and I had to go back in to work on-site, I found things to be a bit trickier.

See, work expects me to present as a woman. But not only do I not feel or identify as one any longer, I've also spent several months exploring malehood. So I've found it very difficult to feel like I pass convincingly. I mean, I cut my hair super short last year so it would look boyish and would fit into wigs better. Granted, back then I didn't know I would end up with medical leave, so I expected a smooth, gradual easing-into it, since it was freshly styled in a cute, femme way; but medical leave happened and now it looks far more boyish than it looks femme. And while this is a positive development for me, personally, it makes passing a bit more difficult.

But this is what I wanted.

This is exactly what I wanted.

I wanted to live as a full-time crossdresser, and my wish has come true. Without hormones and long hair to help me pass easily, I now have to leverage wardrobe and make-up to make it work. It's gotten so real, in fact, that I've been browsing realistic wigs to see if I can find something that'll work for me.

It's a little bit stressful, but also exhilarating. But mainly stressful because I am not a morning person. Still, I'm hoping to find a routine I can fall into so that it'll be less stress and more fun, because I really don't want to go back.

For my next job I'm definitely not applying as a woman.

 

Embracing Malehood

I think a very crucial part of rejecting womanhood, in my case, is embracing malehood. And by this I mean embracing my body, such as it is, along many changes that come with a change of hormones. This has meant, among other things, embracing my penis as an important part of my body. Something to be enjoyed, rather than something to keep hidden. And, boy, has that part been a lot of fun. Beyond that, though, it's been interesting re-framing other parts of my body. For example, my love for nipple stimulation is something I always held as a deeply feminine trait, and accepting that men can enjoy it too has been a bit challenging.

Interestingly, JAV (that's Japanese Adult Video, yes the censored stuff) is something that has helped in this regard because men in it do not shy away from nipple play. I'll attempt to keep this tangent brief, but JAV has become a bit of an obsession for me lately, just because of how different it is from Western porn. One thing that fascinates me to no end about it is how many models are (or at least start out) as crossdressers. And despite not being trans, they still get tastefully dolled-up and appear to be treated well (no negative stereotypes, etc). But it's a new world to me, and I'm sure its ills will become apparent to me with time. Anyways, as much as I want to share my observations, I'm more interested in not going full Ken-Sama, so let's move on.

Another physical aspect of embracing malehood has been embracing male presentation. See, if I want my body to be unambiguously male, then I have to embrace that presentation. A big part of this has been switching to male underwear, which has been huge for me. Not only do I love how sexy I feel in a jockstrap, but wearing things built for my anatomy have brought enormous comfort both physically and emotionally.

Coupling this with short hair and androgynous clothes, and I find myself more and more comfortable embracing a male identity. Looking in the mirror looks good whether I'm all dolled up, shabby-casual in a hoodie, or down to my undies.

Well, almost. My chest is still an obstacle, and keeps me from feeling 100% happy in any of these scenarios. But with diet it has shrunk a little bit, and I hold hope it'll continue to shrink as I approach my goal. If not, I hope by then I'll have enough money to go for surgery, so I can have the flat chest of my dreams.***

Transcending Transvestism

One thing I've been a little bit embarrassed to share, and very unsure about, is to what extent I actually want to crossdress. A while back I was convinced I wanted to be full-time, but as I've become more in-tune with my malehood, I'm suddenly not so sure.

A lot of pressure comes from outside forces: maintaining this life I've built requires that I continue presenting as a woman.

Conversely, I haven't actually been outside in full male presentation - only this strange androgyny that makes people unsure whether they should "sir" me or not. (Case in point, I recently had some salespeople refer to me as "he" and "she" inconsistently - I never corrected them, hah.)

And, to be completely honest, while I'm not inclined on going out with a male presentation, I do want to have that ability from time to time. For example, going to a gay bar, or going on a gay cruise (this is on my bucket list). Ah, and I'd also like to go on a date presenting as male at least once, just to see what it's like.

At any rate, as I type and think about this further, I believe what I have to do is recognize that I don't have to make any hard decisions now. That I should use this time to explore, and try new things, see what feels right. I think ultimately I'm going to end up choosing to crossdress full-time, but it may take me a bit to get to that point.

There is one thing I do know, however, and that is that by spending less time in "girl mode," a lot of its fun and enjoyment have returned. See, now that it's less something I have to do, and more something I want to do, I find myself a bit more open to trying new things, getting inventive, taking risks.

And now that I've really come to embrace my male identity, crossdressing has become transgressive and sexy again. I'm no longer "a woman wearing female clothes," now I'm "a male wearing female clothes." I'm no longer "putting on clothes," I'm now crossdressing. And even though clothes are clothes, there's still a lot of things to find sexy about wearing clothes meant for women.

Because this post is already long enough, I'll skip several of these (like pantyhose are just sexy, period) and get right to those that interest us most: crossdressing can provide elements of emasculation, feminization, humiliation, and submission. These are things I enjoy so flippin' much, and now that I've been away for a good while, and have come back as a boy, I can really enjoy them to their fullest.

 

Returning to Sissification

And so we're back to where I started. More or less. Back then I turned to sissification merely as a kink, as a way to be transgressive, hyperfeminine, and submissive. Now, I think, it's more of a refuge. Now that I've rejected womanhood and embraced malehood, sissification makes a lot more sense.

See, as a woman, wearing pretty frilly dresses or maid outfits can be fun and sexy. And wearing extra makeup, and even a wig, can be a lot of fun, too. And submitting to someone else can be thrilling and somewhat liberating. But also a lot of these things are more or less mundane when you're a woman, because they're more or less expected of women.

But doing these as a boy is all of those things, and so much more. Because it's not expected of boys, and therefore transgressive. Being made up to look and act like a beautiful, sexy girl, when you're a boy, can be humiliating and emasculating, just as it can be liberating and empowering.

Now, this isn't to say that women can't enjoy sissification. I believe firmly that sissification is, at it's core, about rejecting masculine traits (which women have), and embracing hyper-femininity and submission, and is therefore open to anyone. But I do believe that boys do get more enjoyment from it simply because we get that emasculation and humiliation from it. 

Beyond all of this, what has really drawn me back in, is sissification's ephemeral nature. Becoming a sissy doesn't make you a woman: its feminization is interested only in subduing your malehood, not replacing it permanently. So when a sissy is called a "good girl" there's an underlying implication that "she's" not really a girl, but that he's so un-manly, so emasculated, that he might as well be treated like one.

And it's this implicit understanding that really works for me. That I can be dolled up and look super feminine, but participants still know I'm a boy.

That when they call me a "good girl," what they're really saying is "good emasculated boy."

* Except I didn't. In fact I invested in a second laser hair-removal machine: one for large areas. The one I'd bought before is really good, but it's for small areas only (i.e.: my face). This was fine at first because my body hair grew thinner and more slowly. Now, though, it's become a nuisance, so I decided to just rid myself of it. Honestly, I'm kicking myself a little for not getting it sooner, it's worked out crazy well!

** This was society's doing, honestly. I grew up in the golden age of big-breast worship: when silicone implants were god. This was an era in which catty women would gossip about whose chests were real and which were paid-for. During this time, hot women had large, implausibly round bumps, and flat-chested women might as well have been men.

*** Fun aside: back when I was still doing hormones, many many years ago, my doc said "hmmm your body is responding well to this estrogen, I bet you want to get those boobies a bit bigger, I'll up your does and see how it goes for you." I remember back then this tiny voice in my head going "no, not really," but, of course, overriding social pressures to be more womanly drowned it out. I really wish I could back in time, sometimes.