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Mar. 20th, 2005 12:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
adrienmundiNo, damn it, I'm not done. I need to get down to what's actually on my mind.
I've had a growing sense of envy lately when I see or encounter attractive girls (I don't know what their genitals look like, and quite frankly, don't care, though I do feel complicit and guilty for assigning 'girl' without consent; I'm a part of the problem I hate). I need to look at this, to face it instead of shy away from it, to try and get at what it means or might mean. I know I want to be prettier. I know I'm not sure this is possible, for me. Independent of that fear, I also know that any substantive effort on my part in this direction will only convince people I'm a transsexual. It may look like an obssessive fixation on language, but I know that's not me, not my project or identity. These two feed one another like crazy, but I honestly don't think it's strictly a case of sour grapes. I like my eyes. I like my legs, though no one ever sees them any more. There's a lot more I don't like, and there's even more in my head I don't like about my changing body, but the stickiest by far is the bundle of mess associated with my breasts (it's even hard to use that word with that possessive, for me).
They're definitely bigger than what guys' chests are supposed to look like, and yet they're not as big as I would like; they still aren't definitively, unquestioningly "breasts" yet (yeah, I know that's contradictory). If you're raised to be a hetero guy (neither of which took, thankfully, but still...), you're supposed to like breasts, a lot, but in a naughty, secretive sort of way, and you're not ever, ever supposed to talk about things like this around girls, because it upsets the way things work. The overt message from culture is that it's base, crass to like them, but you're still supposed to be attracted to them. "Sexist" and "fetishistic" are words I've encountered more than I'd care to. But not being a guy changes this, and suddenly all the negative from "both" sides comes crashing in. Not being raised a girl, or privy to girl culture, it's only relatively recently that I became aware that some of my reflexive concerns aren't all that uncommon. But still, despite this, I'm reluctant to ever talk about this for fear of pejoratives and judgements. It only fuels my envy that ftx folk can proudly and openly discuss their chest surgeries, to get all sorts of support, but it's still ooky when mtx folk talk about their breasts; it maddens and frustrates me all the more that I'm not immune to that feeling, even being aware of the hypocrisy and unfairness of it. It's not like strong, smooth, flat chests aren't, or can't be, sexualized, but it's not anywhere near as forbidden.
My sweetie recently and happily acquired a bra that fits, and while I'm pleased for her, I was not prepared for the depth of envy that evoked in me. I've got to face this shit down, got to stop squirming away, but damn if it's not a tight, messy knot. I'm not obssessed, I don't think, but it probably looks that way because of the pressure to be silent, which only drives it all into the neighborhood of feeling "naughty" or "perverse". I don't want that, god damn it, but I don't know how to change things.
I've had a growing sense of envy lately when I see or encounter attractive girls (I don't know what their genitals look like, and quite frankly, don't care, though I do feel complicit and guilty for assigning 'girl' without consent; I'm a part of the problem I hate). I need to look at this, to face it instead of shy away from it, to try and get at what it means or might mean. I know I want to be prettier. I know I'm not sure this is possible, for me. Independent of that fear, I also know that any substantive effort on my part in this direction will only convince people I'm a transsexual. It may look like an obssessive fixation on language, but I know that's not me, not my project or identity. These two feed one another like crazy, but I honestly don't think it's strictly a case of sour grapes. I like my eyes. I like my legs, though no one ever sees them any more. There's a lot more I don't like, and there's even more in my head I don't like about my changing body, but the stickiest by far is the bundle of mess associated with my breasts (it's even hard to use that word with that possessive, for me).
They're definitely bigger than what guys' chests are supposed to look like, and yet they're not as big as I would like; they still aren't definitively, unquestioningly "breasts" yet (yeah, I know that's contradictory). If you're raised to be a hetero guy (neither of which took, thankfully, but still...), you're supposed to like breasts, a lot, but in a naughty, secretive sort of way, and you're not ever, ever supposed to talk about things like this around girls, because it upsets the way things work. The overt message from culture is that it's base, crass to like them, but you're still supposed to be attracted to them. "Sexist" and "fetishistic" are words I've encountered more than I'd care to. But not being a guy changes this, and suddenly all the negative from "both" sides comes crashing in. Not being raised a girl, or privy to girl culture, it's only relatively recently that I became aware that some of my reflexive concerns aren't all that uncommon. But still, despite this, I'm reluctant to ever talk about this for fear of pejoratives and judgements. It only fuels my envy that ftx folk can proudly and openly discuss their chest surgeries, to get all sorts of support, but it's still ooky when mtx folk talk about their breasts; it maddens and frustrates me all the more that I'm not immune to that feeling, even being aware of the hypocrisy and unfairness of it. It's not like strong, smooth, flat chests aren't, or can't be, sexualized, but it's not anywhere near as forbidden.
My sweetie recently and happily acquired a bra that fits, and while I'm pleased for her, I was not prepared for the depth of envy that evoked in me. I've got to face this shit down, got to stop squirming away, but damn if it's not a tight, messy knot. I'm not obssessed, I don't think, but it probably looks that way because of the pressure to be silent, which only drives it all into the neighborhood of feeling "naughty" or "perverse". I don't want that, god damn it, but I don't know how to change things.
