boobs and moobs...

Boobs, breasts, tits... fuck 'em. Or rather when it comes to them being on me, fuck no.

It seems like wanting to get rid of them is the only part of the transition process I consistantly want. They just don't make sense. Seriously, what purpose do two mounds of jiggly flesh and fat on my chest serve, other than being obnoxious. I'm lucky enough to be a B-cup on a good day (or maybe bad day?) and thats way more than I ever want to deal with.

Every once in a while I will find my self shirt-less in front of a mirror, and I find my breasts humorous at best. What the fuck? I see them as something that doesn't belong. What's wrong with this picture? I have boobs.

It seems like most other parts of being biologically female are tolerable though. I kinda have curvy hips? A hoodie will hide them. My voice is high? I can practice speaking in a lower octave. At least having scoliosis canceled out the hour glass figure.

I still cant seem to commit to wanting to go on Testosterone however. I want to be perceived as male though. I want it to be enough to wear mens clothes and have people call me Kyle. But T means therapy sessions, and going to court to change my name and gender marker, and comming out to aunts and uncles, and all of that is super intimidating.

I've gotten good at living a double life. I've figured out how to be between genders. It's within my comfort zone to be a masculine female, or androgenous, or genderqueer, or a no-op no-T trans man.

I still hate having boobs though.