This body wasn’t made for me

This body wasn’t made for me

not made to fit

not made to order

For this body to fit all of me

it would be a rarity

a sight to see


I know I’m not alone in suffering from bouts of gender dysphoria.  And I think plenty of people can relate to the feeling that their body doesn’t fit them, whether the dissonance is about gender, height, weight or something else.  I don’t know what that feels like to you, but tonight I got a pretty heavy dose of how it comes to visit me.

It felt like anger, like a fierce sadness, a sudden rush of emotion as the image inside my head got a look at the body we have on the outside.  Like emotional bile it rose up in me, burning as it passed through my gut and chest, filling my head with dissonance and disappointment.  I was suddenly, completely, out of place in my own skin.  It’s happened before, but never with this much power.

Despair that my body didn’t take the form Kyle would recognize.  Anger that no matter how male I feel, no matter how much Kyle is oozing through every pour, the polite customer service people will address me as ‘ma’am’ and not ‘sir’.  I haven’t really done justice to the depth of the anger that consumed me, that almost ran me off the road, but those words will come in time.

I don’t feel this all the time, not like this, certainly.  I am usually, we are usually, at home in the body we were born in.  But sometimes, sometimes we’d rather have born the other way, the way Kyle sees himself.  Although I suppose that would leave us in the same boat, on the other side.

I’m not working towards an FTM transition, because that wouldn’t square me up anymore than this female body does.  I do know, with absolute gut level certainly, that if I felt every moment, hour and day the way I felt for a couple of hours this evening, I would work toward transition.  I know this is what some of my trans brothers and sisters have gone through and it breaks my heart that they have to go through so much to get an approximation of the body they should have been born with to end that feeling of despair and hopelessness.

The bile has settled now, I’m breathing freely again.  This body is my home.  Sometimes it’s hard to live inside, but I can’t live without it.  And, like everything else the universe throws at me, I will survive this.  Even if most of the world can’t see me for who I am, there are a precious few who do.  And one very specific one who loves me for exactly who I am, ill-fitting body and all.

This content is published under the Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported license.

This entry was posted in butch/trans/genderqueer, exploring gender, finding me, transgender and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to This body wasn’t made for me

  1. Roxy says:

    It kills me to see you struggling with this, because I see such a handsome, gorgeous, wonderful guy when I look at you. I see your mix of male and female as a beautiful perfection – both in body, where I find comfort and love, and in spirit, yours being big enough to encompass all that the spectrum has to offer.

    I wish I could be there to hold you and kiss you and remind you of exactly how right you are, exactly as you are. I love you, handsome.

  2. Bren says:

    Thank you for reminding me that I’m not alone in my fits of body discomfort. I’m generally at peace with my female form, with one too-big exception: my breasts. I hate, hate, hate them and how large they are. It’s like nature itself is mocking my masculinity by giving me bigger tits than most of the feminine people I know. I’ve experimented with some entry-level binding, but failed; the combo of my breast size and sensitivity (which is high) made this pure agony.

    I’m not sure why they bother me so much. I don’t ID as trans; I ID as a butch, meaning to me a masculine woman. However, the “masculine” part comes first for a reason. Having such a prominent and decidedly feminine body feature seems so counter to this that it drives me nuts (as well as making it difficult to find mens tops that fit me).

    Having someone who loves you because of, not despite of, your mismatched body/gender presentation really is the most important thing, and I’m so grateful for the peace that comes from that.

  3. Kher says:

    I’m not sure what it is, but every time I visit your site I seem to run the full gauntlet of emotions. And I do mean full.

    However, this one drew me to reply to it. I definitely feel the same. Most days I am somewhat comfortable in my body, it being female – undeniably so. I have a large chest and curves. I am NOT comfortable with compliments, mainly because it riles up the feelings that I try to ignore. Such as what you have described – anger, sadness, disappointment, loss, even disgust at what I see when I look at myself and my reflection. Occasionally such a ripping, burning despair that I will never have the form that I would probably be more comfortable in.
    I do not plan on surgeries. I don’t think I would miss my chest – it being a pita most days – but I don’t think I want to take that step and then realize that I would miss that aspect of myself I have had for nearly two decades. Though parts of my brain scream at me to get rid of it at times.

    Unfortunately, despite having people who love me for all my personality quirks, I still am not quite settled in my dysphoric state. I am still trying to find my self. Selves. I often feel like I am pretending or lying to myself or others because I’m saying that I’m not what I AM, visually. That makes me feel guilty as well, when I have the stark truth of what I look like reflected back at me.

    I’m not even sure what I’m rambling about exactly or if it makes sense. Late night, tired brain, and throwing my two cents into the pot. Thank you for sharing your mind. It helps at least a little to know others feel this way.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *