Before I fully realized I was a man, I would fervently rummage through thrift shops and boutiques searching for the one dress that wouldn’t make me feel like a gorilla failing to pull off girlishness. People would tell me that I looked perfectly feminine anyway, and I believed them, but inside I felt so off. It’s not enough to look all right on the exterior while feeling mismatched on the interior.

It was the same with my (ex)-boobs. I had some great ta-tas, and people let me know it. Especially when I announced that I was to do away with them. I lost count of how many times it was brought to my attention that I was depriving the world of a fantastic rack. For that I am truly sorry, world, but that’s the irony of life, no?

It’s scary leaving a body that could easily pass as normal and take that testosterone leap without knowing exactly how I would come out on the other end. Sometimes I just feel like a gorilla failing to pull off boyishness. At least I’m not kidding myself about my true gender anymore. The boyishness will come in time, and if it doesn’t, whatever.