Happy International Women's Day, kiwis! I am gently paging
@Magic Pickle and requesting an MTF seethe-a-thon, to celebrate women and their achievements. I would do it myself, but I am nowhere near qualified or good enough at hunting seethe to do so. The honor goes to the Pickle.
Few to none of us also possess their imaginatively snappy way with words. The Almighty Pickle is the true scribe.
Flattery gets you everywhere, you know! And who am I to deny you all? Please enjoy this cornucopia of crying, menagerie of malding and circus of sobbing - my treat.
Let's start this post off strong with a brave woman who definitely deserves her roses after trying to tangle with a tranny she encountered in a bathroom. While she was unsuccessful in her quest to push out this predator from the potty, at least we Kiwis get to enjoy the fallout of her efforts as OP, the guy in question, sobs and pouts about how even though he's proud of his attempt at intimidating random women, it still wounds him to be seen as the dangerous weirdo that he is.
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CW: transphobia
I got harassed at a bathroom yesterday. My partner and I were driving to her parents and we took some wrong turns and I really had to pee. We stopped and I went in alone. I asked the front if I could use the bathroom and they said to go for it. I went and thought a bit about which bathroom to use and decided to use the women's.
I went in and before I was fully in the door, someone said "that's the women's bathroom" and I just went "I know" and went in. Figured that would be the end of it. It wasn't. Some lady followed me in there and said something like "why do you feel like you need to use the women's restroom?" And I said "I don't want to talk about it". I heard her muttering to herself about how she "doesn't usually see a male in the women's restroom".
I went into a stall to pee and was genuinely terrified and panicking. She knocked again on the door and said "excuse me this is a women's restroom" and I said "I am a woman". That seemed to catch her off guard. She said "sorry" and walked away and I said "you should be". And on her way out the door she said "you're not a woman though". I was still peeing and this was through the closed door of the stall.
I finished peeing, and went to go wash my hands when another woman came out of a stall too. She said "don't listen to her" and was very kind. I told her this was my first time ever being harassed in the bathroom. She looked at me with pity and said she wished me luck and that she was sorry. I thanked her and told her she was wonderful.
Though I wish she had spoken up while it was happening.
I got back to the car with my partner and cried. It hurt a lot. I cried at her parents too. They were really supportive. Just... awful experience. I'm kind of proud of how I handled it though.
As fucked up as it was I'm kind of glad it happened,
I don't want to be jaded or hurt forever but I do want to remember that the world is not safe for us, and how even in a state where I'm legally allowed to use the womens bathroom I can still be harassed.
Just wanted to share with my girlies on the sub. Be safe out there loves
Sometimes fate can deal a cruel hand, such as the case of this joker who manages to be The Final Boss of HR Meetings: a black, 'tizzed out troon. Even he seems aware of the comedy of his lot in life, claiming that he would rather be "a corpse" than any of these things. Don't get too ahead of yourself, buddy; you'll still be all of these things even after you die.
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Genuinely how am I expected to live like this?
I hate myself so much and I hate my parents even more for passing on their disgusting genetics to me. It’s so unfair there’s no way to make life easier or even slightly enjoyable. I hate this so much. I’d rather be a corpse than being any of these things.
Cannot think of a worse existence in my entire life
Though at first this TiM believed that his sister was on his side,
a tumultuous exchange of texts of over Thanksgiving revealed that she's not as on board with the troonery as he'd hoped, causing a rift to form between them. Now after trying to force an apology out of her like a loan shark eager to shatter kneecaps, OP gets what-for when the sister outs him as a tranny retard to their right-leaning parents in retaliation, accusing him of grooming her son (which OP, naturally, denies) and getting their step-father to try and make
him apologize to
her instead. While neither parent seems to turn OP into crossdressing cornmeal as he feared, the moral of the story remains clear: be very, very careful who you confess your perversions to.
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My sister has been basically the only person ive come out to other then my brother and well a few months ago me and her got into a fight leading me to blocking her.
For context i came out to her like 2 years ago
Took ine year for it to all fuck up and me to regret itAnd now this.
In January i asked her to give me a real apology after she gave a fake one to me in December after alot of shit she did i dont think i have enough space or time for. Her apology was "im sorry things happened between us" no appologies for her transphobia or her genuine abuse. I blocked her imediately after that and
she tried to out me to my parents over something i brought up in our argument as if trying to get me in bad graces with them. It was something with jk rowling which she brought up to try to throw me under the bus. I managed to avoid getting outed and now yesterday everything went to shit.
Yesterday her and my dad tried to force me to apologize to her instead. For context with this i live with my mom and stepdad.
My sister and my dad basically cornered me in the bathroom while i was using it and tried to make me apologize to her which i stated "i dont eant to talk to her right now" my dad pushed and i explained i have nothing to apologize about and she needs to apologize. She yelled for me to "get off my high horse" which led me to trying to be calm explain that i wont apologize for how she treated me in the past (verbal abuse, emotional abuse and manipulation,
alot of transphobia she said when i was at my lowest point due to a fuck up in anti depression medication of which she went on a transphobic rant for 30 minutes in a call when i said i dont want to call her at all)
As i was talking she yelled at me to shut the fuck up, i reprated it, much louder.
This led to her throughout the rest of the day texting my mom and stepdad everything from my message history to them outing me in screenshots and trying to get me killed as i have actively heard my stepdad say "they should get shot" when talking about trans people...
She put me in danger. When my mom came to talk to me with it she told me her and my stepdad deleted the conversation. My mom told my sister "i am not reading any of that, this is my childs privacy"
My sister then texts full on outing me instead of any screenshots while also trying to accuse me as a groomer and actively lied saying i told my nephew (her child) to call me my preferred name. I never said this to my nephew. She is the only one who knows that prefered name (irl) and my brother doesnt even know.
She said i was trying to make her kid trans as he started thinking "i might be trans" then.
Luckily only my mom got this one but it still outed me to her which shes been very against trans people for a while. My sister put me in danger over an apology.
Now my dads trying to grt me to "suck it up" to go on a trip to see my grandma and aunt and uncle which i do want to see but my sister will be there...
I wanted to post this partially to vent even though ive already vented to friends and family (my brother) but also to say;
i had doubts with my sister before hand. I asked her stepdaughter who is a lesbian with her tolerance and i genuinely feel like shit and that i should have listened to my niece with this. If you have any doubts with coming out to people i reccomend thinking it over more. Any red flags or anything really and keep note of that. I possibly should have before with some of the things she kept doing
(this is the second time i got outed by her against my will. The first time was with my brother when i first came out to my sister)
A man who has lived nearly an entire decade with a discombobulated hormonal panel resents that doctors request he undergo bloodwork on a regular basis. I love when troons 'n' poons admit openly that part of the reason they go DIY (i.e., take illegal, grey- or black-market hormones) is because they believe themselves to be smarter than those who have dedicated their lives to medicine; you know that the second any sort of serious health ramifications start developing, he'll be high-tailing it back over to the doctor for the help he scornfully rejected before.
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I've been on hrt for almost 8 years at this point, started with DIY and then went to Endos to get actual perscriptions.
It has been a nightmare dealing with these doctors. 99% have absolutely no idea how HRT even works or effects the body. I've had to fight tooth and nail to get the medications prescribed that i deserve.
I went in last year to a different office, and they said my E levels were too high and put me on a lower dose of HRT. I had stopped taking Spiro at the time and was on monotherapy. This doctor literally prescribed me a starter dose and my E levels went so low that my T levels spiked for the first time in years. Went in for labs last week and found this out. I told my doctor I need to go back on Spiro because I do not want my T levels to keep increasing, then she requested MORE labs that I have go in to do. Seriously, how tf are my T levels being at 200 not enough information for you to refill my spiro?!?!???!
Every place that I've gone to keeps requesting labs from me every 3 months for refills. I've been on HRT for almost 8 YEARS, I do not need more fucking labs done. I'm not new to this. Why are they obsessed with our blood?? This is why I've started to stockpile DIY HRT because I'm just so fucking sick of these "professionals" that think they know more than us. They do not. What is their problem?? Why are they all like this???
The Fourth Powerpuff Girl: a tremendous troon - to be described as 'troonmendous,' perhaps - feels ostracized from all the other Powerpuff girls due being seen as a "large tank of a man," which shouldn't be remotely surprising to him as OP stands at a whopping
6'5" according to his own measurement. But it isn't really his height that OP takes the most umbrage with as he soon admits the
real facet of sisterhood he wants to get in on: his female friends aren't shy about discussing sexuality or undressing around one another, supposedly going as far as taking nude photos together and sharing bedrooms, and he's barred from such activities due to the accident of his birth sex. Truly, never has a man before been subjected to agony the way OP has, valiant soldier of suffering that he is.
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I’m pre-transition, as much as I desperately want to change that, financial instability and fear of harm from my location and families beliefs haven’t allowed me to fully transition.
Because of this my outward appearance, as much as I try and dress androgynously and present femininity,
is that of a 6ft 5 tank of a man.
I have always had my friends mainly be female cis women, I always have just wanted to be included as “one of the girls” and even though my friends are all very progressive left leaning people and some even part of the LGBTQ community, it’s obvious to me that as much as they say they support me I am nothing more than that large tank of a man to them.
They are all very open people with their bodies and sexuality between eachother, very progressive when it comes to anything women centered. They arnt afraid to change in front of each other or take nude pictures with eachother, they sleep in the same room, they talk in depth about sex lives and boys etc. but I’m always excluded from this side of life, they don’t say it but I know it’s because they still see me as a male. And maybe that stuff is superficial but it invalidates me and cuts me to the bone.
Whenever they need a “male” role filled it’s always me, when a car needs fixing or just any other stereotypical “male” task is involved somehow I’m always the chosen one. And when they talk about how bad men are and misogyny and the patriarchy instead of including me in the conversation from a female perspective I’m lumped into that patriarchy instead.
This has been my experience in almost every female friend group and I don’t know what to do, I just want to be seen for the person inside me, not for the body I was put into. I’ve never really used this sub or asked for advice but I just feel so heart broken by this pattern any advice would be amazing.
Speaking of sorrowful skyscrapers, another MTF - standing at a more modest 6'1" - asks for help on how to feel more like Jack and less like the ogre he encounters at the top of the beanstalk as being tall "feels wrong" and "hurts (my) soul" even though he hails from the land of the large known as Denmark. Proving that never shall the feminine exist without invoking the Promethean desire for man to steal her fire, OP seeks advice from other lumbering lugheads on how best to skinwalk Thumbelina so that he can "heal" his "heart and soul." We've seen surgeons capitalize on leg-lengthening surgeries, so I see no reason why they shouldn't start offering leg-shortening surgeries, either; I mean, as you can see here, there's
clearly a market!
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So I have this weird flavour of dysmorphia where, despite having been ~183cm (6'1" i think?) for over 5 years now, I still feel like I am much shorter and smaller, like in my mind and soul and even coordination-wise. This extends to every aspect of my body's length, like my arms, hands, fingers, legs, feet, and my height overall.
Intuitively I am still the height and size I was when I was like before puberty, like at least 15cm shorter. Fortunately I am very thin and lanky and have narrow shoulders and waist, which helps, but I still always feel too large in every situation. And it just feels wrong and it hurts my soul. Whenever I'm with my shorter friends,
I feel so wrong, like why am I higher up than you, I'm not supposed to be up here. And I hate drawing attention in social situations and my height does not help. I live in Denmark, a very tall country, but 183cm is still above average. So
do any of you have any tips for feeling small and short and tiny so my heart and soul can heal?
TL;DR: My height feels wrong in literally every way, and I hate being tall. How can I feel and appear shorter and smaller?
A fair-weather ally makes it clear to this TiM that even if she's on board to play ball with his blossoming buffonery, she still recognizes that a troll in the dungeon is not exactly what any witch hopes to stumble upon and warns him to keep out of this particular women's space. If OP were truly female-brained, he would likely understand his friend's concerns and not be such a diaper-wetting whiner about it, but I suppose any man so close to the city of gold that is the women's bathroom - an El Doodoo-rado, if you will - should be forgiven for his impatience when what he desires is so close he can taste it.
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We normally go to the movies on weekend nights where I dress up and let myself true self out while I have to boy mode in my daily life.
My friend says she’s supportive and respects me but keeps using he/him pronouns and seems to keep pushing me into using the family single restroom. When I asked her if she’s uncomfortable with me using the restroom she said it’s better if myself and other women if I was on hormones for a few months which then lead me to ask if she still sees me as a man. She said
I haven’t started hormones yet and shouldn’t rush anything which felt really shitty. I understand this is a transition for her too since she’s known me as a man for a while but it still hurts
You'll be forgiven if your eyes glaze over reading this spine-snapping exercise in navel-gazing, but this is an L where it pays to read between the lines; for those less practiced in literary analysis, I shall summarize: a troon reflects on the destruction of some of his most important relationships in the pitiful, pointless pursuit of his real self and has the sinking feeling that all he's sacrificed will never be enough and that at the end of the construction of his idealized self, he will still be little more than an empty husk.
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i think the thing nobody tells you about transition is that it doesn't just change you.
it retroactively edits everyone around you. goes back through the footage and redubs all the lines. my mom isn't losing a son or a daughter or whatever clean narrative makes it easier to explain at church.
she's losing the version of events where she understood what she made. where the thing she built from her own body made sense to her. i took that. i didn't mean to. i took it anyway.
she used to call every sunday. now she calls on birthdays and holidays and sometimes her voice has this careful quality, this handling quality, like she's carrying something fragile across a room and doesn't want to be the one who drops it. and i'm on the other end thinking — mom. mom i'm the fragile thing. i've always been the fragile thing. you're just finally allowed to notice.
she sent a card last month. signed it with my old name.
i don't think it was cruelty. i think she just. forgot. or couldn't. or both simultaneously in that way grief works where the forgetting is also a kind of holding on. i put the card in the drawer and i haven't opened that drawer since and now
there's a whole drawer i can't open in my own apartment because it contains the evidence that the woman who loves me most in this world still sometimes doesn't know who i am.
and Erika.
god. Erika.
we were more than friends for 11 years before riley. 11 years of 2am texts and inside jokes that have no translation, references that only work if you were there, and we were always there, both of us, for all of it. and
then i became this. and she tried. i need to say that. she tried. she used the name, she asked questions, she did the reading, she showed up.
but there's this thing that happens with the people who knew you before. they're always doing this invisible math. always running the old version alongside the new one, comparing, checking, grieving the delta. and eventually the math gets exhausting. eventually people stop doing the calculation not because they stopped caring but because caring was costing them too much per hour.
eleven days of silence.
i know her. i know her like i know my own breathing pattern.
i know she's not gone, not fully, but i also know that the friendship we had was built by two people and one of those people doesn't quite exist anymore and the architecture of what we built together is load-bearing on someone i dissolved.
i keep drafting the text.
hey. i miss you. i know this has been weird. i know i've been a lot. i keep stopping at
a lot because a lot isn't the word. the word is
different in ways that had costs and you paid some of them and i'm sorry and also i couldn't have done it any other way and that doesn't fit in a text message. that doesn't fit anywhere. it's just this thing i carry that has no container.
the mirror.
i thought the mirror would get easier. everyone says the mirror gets easier. i'm still waiting for the easier. i stand there and i do this scan, this full body audit, looking for the places where riley is visible and the places where the old shape is still poking through and i make a list in my head of everything that still needs to change and the list is always longer than yesterday and i don't know if that means i'm getting more honest or just more broken or if those are the same thing wearing different shoes.
my body is a renovation that's been in progress for so long i can't remember what the original floor plan looked like. and i know that's supposed to be freeing. you get to build yourself from scratch. but nobody mentions the part where you're living in the construction zone. nobody mentions the dust. the exposed wires. the rooms you can't use yet because the walls aren't up.
i have all these systems. all these plans. the whole architecture of a future self, spreadsheet perfect, funnel optimized, every variable accounted for except the one where i don't know if i'll like her when she's finished. riley. the completed version. the one i'm building toward.
what if i get there and she's just as tired as i am. what if i do all this work and she looks in the same mirror and makes the same list and the list is still long and the tiles are still cold and the drawer is still full of cards with the wrong name.
what if becoming was never going to be enough because the problem was never the name.
and that thought is the one i can't say out loud to anyone because it sounds like ingratitude.
it sounds like after everything, after all the cost, after every relationship that bent under the weight of this — after all of it i'm standing here saying and what if it still isn't right. and that's not a thing you're allowed to say. you're supposed to be grateful. you're supposed to be free.
i'm so tired of performing the freedom i was supposed to feel by now.
i sit with the half-built fusor on my desk and the azazel tabs still open and the course outline that represents the version of me who has her life together and i think — all of this is future-riley's problem. present-riley is just trying to get through the bathroom floor portion of the evening without it meaning something.
it always means something.
i google the old name and i look at it like a photograph of a country i was deported from. and the country wasn't good. the country was actually terrible. i was miserable in that country. but i had a passport. i knew the language. people recognized my face at the border.
now i'm stateless and brave and completely alone with it at four in the morning and the word brave tastes like something someone else said about me that i've been trying to digest ever since.
i just wanted to come home.
i thought riley was home.
i'm starting to think i might not have one.
Finally, it's a curtain call for this crossdresser's cock as he reports that ever since he began popping his catgirl headphone hypnofemboy tablets, his dick has decided to shrivel up like a snail in a salt ring. Hilariously enough, he says that this has now induced
actual, for-real dysphoria in him, especially because HRT has failed to deliver to him the mommy milkers and an ass with its own zipcode that he was entitled to when he first started. "(I) burst into tears when I shower from having to look at what I've lost," he weeps. "It feels like estrogen took my soul." Devastated at his debonerization, OP says the only way he can cope is by becoming "extremely sex negative and anti sex," which he admits is out of fear and anger at what he's done to himself. A great spoonful of schadenfreude to end a collection on, if I do say so myself!
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I've been on estrogen for three and a half years now.
A few months in, I lost all function of my penis basically overnight. I had an extremely low libido even before transitioning and didn't actually hate my genitals, but still rarely used them. The significant shrinkage, constant aching atrophy pain, and complete loss of erections and any sort of sex has been absolutely soul wrenching and beyond devastating on my mental health. Ironically,
my penis was the only part or my body I loved and felt was genuinely aligned with who I am before I transitioned, and losing it has been multitudes more dysphoric than anything I had ever felt before or since. It feels like I've lost so much more than I've gained, especially since genetically, the feminization effects have been extremely minimal (my boobs are like a foot apart since I'm so broad). The soft skin and a few other things are very nice, but
whenever I contemplate having lost any and all chance of having any sort of relationship with sexuality, I shake and sob uncontrollably. It feels like I've ruined myself. It'll likely never go back to the way it was, and that honestly makes me wish I weren't alive. I definitely feel like a woman. I'm very masculine in nature and in desires. I despise that both of those are true. I'm so lost, empty, confused, and
honestly burst into tears when I shower from having to look at what I've lost. Please, is there any advice for me? For reference,
I'm 26, knew I was trans at 14, but didn't have the courage to transition until I was 22 even though it felt like body horror every day. It feels like estrogen took my soul, and I'm just the husk of what was left. I'm so lost. I apologize for the venting, but what can I do? Am I not "trans enough"?
Should I just bite the bullet and detransition to maybe get at least the one positive thing about my life back? Commit to bottom surgery even though I have absolutely no desire to do so? I wish things were simple.
I've been sort of coping by becoming extremely sex negative and anti sex, but that feels out of fear and anger.
alas
