The New and Rule-Friendly "I Wish I Was Her/Him" Thread
- Thread starter StacyTG
- Start date
I wish I was her.
I really, really wish I was her today.
I've known that feeling before .... don't worry, you will get your day
BTW, I tried to find a good picture of a girl who looks like what I would want to, but couldn't quite find any. I don't have a physical role model per-se, and I've been trying to come to terms with loving my own body as-is as much as possible. The genitals are a sticking point there ... but honestly, I am relatively hppy with the way I look; other than being eager for SRS, I think most of my concerns are similar to cis women's ... too flat, to hairy, stomach not sufficiently photoshoped ... ;p
Anyway, along those lines, here's a link explaining proper breast measurement technique that I think my trans sisters here may enjoy
stickygirl
All the witches
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- Jan 3, 2012
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Anyway, along those lines, here's a link explaining proper breast measurement technique that I think my trans sisters here may enjoy
(((hugs)))
stickygirl
All the witches
- Joined
- Jan 3, 2012
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- 21,197
Sliding Doors 1998 - Oops - massive trigger
I remember seeing this on DVD in my teens and it hit me on so many levels, not least because I was in love with Gwyneth Paltrow/Wanted to be her but also by the story line - of how a tiny incident can throw the course of your life but in the end doesn't change the destination - Get a copy and you'll know what I mean. But anyway this isn't a film review (btw, this was GP before she got really famous so don't get all friggin judgemental about the way she's portrayed these days k?) it's about Confusion, about wanting a girl and wanting to be that girl and I think maybe Stacy is in that place too?
I can remember being in bed when I was about 13yrs, feeling horny and thinking about Gwyneth and lusting for her, but equally wanting to be her and just when my fantasy was going along nicely, up pops the other character, John Hannah. I don't particularly fancy JH so seeing him in my fantasy was a shock, but they fall in love: I want that love, they kiss and I want to kiss but I don't want to kiss him - I want to be Gwyneth being kissed... so by then my head would be in a complete whirl: I'd be desperately trying to have an orgasm, but instead my head was full of confusion. I remember punching the pillow in anger and frustration, with tears spilling down my face and wondering if I was going fucking mad. I couldn't come because of all these thoughts. Other boys at school used to brag about wanking, they used to have pin-ups, but masturbation for me was a game of cheat - I had to be quick or those crazy thoughts would stop me.
Then the thoughts seep out of the bedroom, out of fantasy and into every aspect of your life. You begin to realise, despite everything in the world around you, that you are that girl, you don't want her in the same way as other boys. It's like a skin being peeled off, revealing a horrible mess underneath. You don't want to be a horrible mess: you want your life to be like other boys, all nice and simple, but you know the awful truth. You know in your heart that you are that mess. You know you're going have to sort something out or ... or life is going to become too much to bear.
You can shave your legs, you can borrow your sisters knickers, play with make up when the house is yours, but all these things are like sticking-plasters on a broken leg. I've sat with my face half made up, with my stupid balls hanging out of the side of my sisters knickers and cried and cried and wanted to die. I had long since given up the dream of waking up as a girl "Thank you God for this day and please let me be a girl when I wake up." was my prayer when I was seven or eight. God doesn't respond to these supplications or maybe I just didn't prayer hard enough? Either way, God sucks.
So what next? The next bit is the hardest because you're going to have to include other people in this fucking mess. You're going to have to tell your Mum, who loves you and has all sorts of hopes that her son is going to be a proud father one day, and play rugby for England, and have a proper career. You're going to have to tell her that every Christmas present she ever bought you was wrong, that you actually hate every scrap of clothing she's ever picked for you. Then she's going to have to tell her brother, who's children are 'doing so well' that there is something 'wrong' with her youngest and "no, he isn't queer". Your sister will have to tell her friends at school and stop calling you "bro". And you have to speak to your teachers, most of whom you think are creeps, that you are having 'problems' and they nod sympathetically but worry about the effect you might have on other kids... So yea, being a transgender is a fucking scream huh?
It's like standing at the bottom of skyscraper and looking up and knowing you've got to climb it, because the only safe place is at the top. It's a long long way up there. If you stay here, you're dead, if you fall off, you're dead. People can shout encouragement, but it's you that has to do the climbing, fighting back a fear of heights all the way.
That is what dysphoria is.
All I can tell you is that it gets better: your view of the world gets better and better the more you climb. When I think about standing on the top, when I've had my SRS, it just makes me climb faster.
Fuck me - I was only going to post those couple of photos and now look what I've done!
My fingers have hovered over Delete because frankly this is embarrassing and I feel guilty for taking up so much page-space with "me,me,me" but I'll let it be because, if you're reading this, it's actually about "you,you,you" and it might help. Words like this used to help me."All you need is love" I wish you all love - the big John Lennon 'world-love', because that's what matters
. I'm half way up my sky-scraper, I'm not frightened anymore and I'm not confused. It's not perfect but nothing is perfect.
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