Time lends persective.
As the days and, soon, weeks elapse since my last night of panic – was i doing the right thing? might this be a mistake? – it becomes ever clearer just how right that decision was. Mt problem, i realise now, is that people asking if i was sure were asking in cis language…and i was trying to decode it in trans.
So…since the op, i’ve looked down from time to time and wondered what all the fuss was. I’ve asked andrea why any bloke would object. I’ve even contemplated asking blokes why they could possibly mind losing that HORRID thing…
and andrea has pointed out that even if my empathy is good in most circs, its very lacking here.
In bloke-world, in cis-world, people do tend to be attached to their bits. Cutting off your willy is an ancient and atavistic fear that afflicts a large proportion of blokes. So for them, it is near axiomatic that no-one in their right mind would seek out the intervention i did.
That’s why its so easy to introduce words like “mutilation”: because it is such a big thing.
For me, however, as i think i’ve mentioned before, it was next to nothing. A minor cosmetic rectification, sort of. A putting right. And behind that, a sense that, if i was making a mistake, it was a “so what?” sort of thing.
So what if i somehow wasn’t pure trans. I wouldn’t miss my dick. Wouldn’t want it back. Just wouldn’t mind.
Which is why, in the run-up days, i was getting increasinglyt confused. Why, i started to wonder, is everyone so worked up about this? Why are people placing such a weight on my decision? Like, sure, its big surgery: but as decision, it was so, so easy.
I started to mistrust the ease with which i was making my decision.
Was it possible i was missing something?
And of course, i wasn’t. I knew exactly how i felt about my body. Its just i didn’t understand that, being trans, i really didn’t, don’t view my body the way the rest of the world does.
Weird. I wonder where else such difficulties of interpretation set in.