I can’t stop posting pictures of my tits on the internet. Not my naked tits, but as much of them as I can share without a member of my friends or family reaching out in concern.
It’s become a compulsion at this point, and I know that, but also — screw you, I like doing it. I’ve not had tits for very long, and I need to get my money’s worth before I’m too old to get away with it. My tits, aside from my Korg Synthesizer, are the best purchases I’ve made this year. And if anything, they’re better value. I mean, you get two of them. (they both wobble though — haha a little bit of synth humour for you there).
The thing is, I did technically have “tits” before. Being on hormones for as long as I’ve been, you’d expect to have some gosh darned tits. If I didn’t have some kinda tits at that point, I’d be like — hey Doc! If you even ARE a real Doc? What gives, where’s my tits? But they were pretty uninspiring. I could get a half-convincing cleavage if I had breast forms in, and 2 bras on. But wearing 2 bras is the behaviour of a psycho (as is wearing 2 pairs of knickers, but a trans woman’s gotta tuck).
I remember, when the surgeon was looking at my underwhelming tits he described them as “dog-eared”. I remember thinking fuck off, you’re dog-faced. But I didn’t say that because this man was going to soon be cutting me open like a salmon. So instead I just said thank you Daddy, please fix me. And he did! (thank you Daddy).
I think when you get to your thirties, and most parts of your body resemble a 30 year old’s (tired sunken eyes, bad back etc.) it’s a difficult thing psychologically when your tits don’t match. My personal experience, as a trans woman, is that getting to my 30’s without tits made me feel infantilised. It made me feel sexless, and ugly. So now that I have these tits, for the first time in my life I actually feel sort of attractive. A little bit. Maybe. Tentatively.
And as I’ve said far too much, to too many of my friends over the past few months — I’m looking for love. I’m on boyfriend patrol, and you’re under arrest, Sir. And I’m going to continue posting pictures of my tits on the internet until I either get an offer of courtship, or blocked.
The truth is, having tits has changed me — fundamentally. It’s a total trans-cliche, but I feel more complete now. I have a different sort of confidence (aside from my usually glittering social confidence). I have something resembling sexual confidence. I’m sort of an adult now. A little bit. Maybe. Tentatively.
Also, whenever I post a picture of my tits online I get loads of lovely attention. I love attention, it’s actually my favourite. I recently had to post off my old mobile phone to my insurance company because I broke it — and I only realised after that I have tonnes of pictures of myself half naked on it. And I didn’t even care. If anything, it just ups my chances of finding a man. If you’re a hot single man and you work at my insurance company — like what you see? You’ve got my number, hmu.
