I’ve said that I am not in control of this process. I’m seeing little changes in the way I act and think that were not orchestrated by my conscious mind. It’s amazing to see. I’ve noticed that Ann – the woman inside me, who is the real me – is more balanced, even-tempered and mature than the me I’ve known all of my life. I stopped at the grocery store a few days ago, and, while there, I picked up a frozen pizza, to “celebrate” my epiphany. (I know; it’s pathetic.) I put it in the grocery cart and was headed toward the cashier when I suddenly stopped and thought, “I don’t need this.” Without a feeling of self-deprivation and without a complaint or regret, I returned to the freezer and put the pizza back, feeling a sense of gratification in so doing. That was Ann. It sure wasn’t anyone else.
The other day, when I was feeling particularly Annish, I just decided it was time to fold clothes and pick up around the apartment – not because those are traditionally women’s tasks, but because it was sensible: the apartment and laundry needed attention. Again, I didn’t feel imposed upon; I was happy to do it.
I’ve thought about this, and I realized that I have always spent a lot of time distracting myself from negative feelings. I have used food, films and alcohol to do this. Ann doesn’t need to be distracted, because she isn’t hurting. She’s been living deep inside me for a long time, waiting for me to find her.
Something a little personal, but fascinating, has been happening very recently. Like a lot of cis males, I imagine, I regularly engaged in self-pleasuring. (You can add this to the list of distractions, above.) I haven’t done so for a number of days now. There have been a few occasions when I felt desire stirring; but, on both occasions, I had an immediate awareness that it was … and here I struggle for the right word … inappropriate. Not wrong, not forbidden – nothing like that – but improper somehow. “Not the thing to do,” if you will. I could have ignored this awareness, but I didn’t want to, inasmuch as it seemed to come from somewhat the same place as these other things. In other words, I thought it would be in my best interests to listen. I didn’t have a clue at the time why this was true; but I have a pretty good theory now.
I am a woman in a male body, looking forward to transition – and, if not transition, then at least maximizing the expression of the woman I am. Self-pleasuring, in this body, as it is currently configured and with its current complement of hormones, is a powerful tie to the maleness I have long mistaken for mine; it reaffirms the link between me and maleness, which link I am working to break forever.
I don’t want to go out on a limb; but I think I am losing my regard for that part of my body as sexual. I’ve read that pre-operative trans-females tend to have difficult relationships with that particular body part. My relationship with mine isn’t “difficult,” at least at the moment; but I think it is losing its sexuality. And I really do think that’s a good thing – nay, a wonderful thing.
Besides, I imagine I’ll give its eventual replacement a good workout.
