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.
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