Reflection

I feel like a Ken doll. I feel like I LOOK like a Ken doll.

I wonder if that was the true demise of him and Barbie. I mean, we all have needs – even Barbie.

But I wonder how HE deals with it. It must be what the flashy convertible and gigantic mansion is all about – over-compensation.

Do I over-compensate for my anatomy? I’ve thought a lot about this. I mean, I have no true high-end merchandise to speak of (but this is ONLY because of the limitations of my wallet), but I do “carry a big stick” and have an even bigger ego.

In the not-so-distant past, I was dancing with this really hot guy at a club. The closer our bodies got, the more self-aware I became about my… lack thereof. A flood of thoughts came to my mind (ruining my buzz) about what he’d think, how’d he react and if I was just over-thinking the whole thing.

He told me I could, “…put my hands wherever I wanted to” and I saw in his eyes that he wanted me to reciprocate that sentiment. I could not.

Again, in the not-so-distant past, I was expressing my interest in a woman to a friend of mine (yes, I’m bisexual). Her first question was if this woman was bisexual herself and if she knew I was transgender.

I’m not stealth, but I don’t wear my trans identity on my sleeve either. If this person had done any investigation of me via Facebook or Myspace, she would have learned of my female history.

And I plan to disclose to her, but feel like to do so prior to a date, or a kiss or whatever, would send the message that I think my gender, no my anatomy, could a reason why we couldn’t go any further and that isn’t what I want to put out there.

Because it shouldn’t matter! I live my life as male and when you date me, you’re dating a dude. I look, act and interact with the world as a man. I am man. Hear me fart.

The whole situation begs the question on how important is sex to a relationship. The answer is VERY important. Or else, I wouldn’t be grueling over the issue on a constant basis. When is the right moment to disclose? How do you do it? How do you deal with the rejection if it doesn’t work out?

I should be asking Ken…


Oz

The Yellow Brick Road

So, I'm trans. Transgendered. Female to male. My soul was placed in the wrong body. However you choose to refer to it. It has been both the greatest blessing I could get and the most awful curse I could receive. Perhaps it was done to test my fortitude as a human being, perhaps the cosmos misaligned on the day of my birth, perhaps God has a twisted albeit amusing sense of humor, or perhaps some hormones got lost at that crazy intersection on 4th and Grand whilst I was in vitro. We all have our own answers to placate our ever raging minds. But, the bottom line is, I'm trans.

I came out December 6, 2008. It wasn't a special day. Nothing spectacularly emotional occurred prior to my coming to peace with the inner turmoil. I was watching LOGO, such a great channel, and there was a reality show about a trans woman, Calpernia Adams, seeking love. Kinda like Bachelor, but with a trans woman and several men vying for her affections. One of these men happened to be a trans man. James. When I found out that he was an FTM I was dumbfounded. He looked just like a man. My mind was boggled. At that point, I had heard of transgendered people, mostly MTF's, even met a few, MTF's that is, but never had I really laid eyes on in motion on the TV screen a true post transition FTM. It was like seeing a miracle. I had never really stopped and thought to myself, I could present as a man to the world at large. I had wanted for so long to dive head first into research about FTM's but I subconsciously knew if I did that then it would be the end of Gabrielle and I suppose up until December 6th 2008 I wasn't quite ready for that.

So, the day of reckoning had come. It all hit me, hard but in a nice peaceful way. Everything just sort of fell into place emotionally an intellectually and I told myself, Okay, this it, this is what you are and what you will be the rest of your life. This is what you have been struggling with for your entire existence. This is why when you look in the mirror you feel as though you're staring at an alien. See, when I was the tender age of 6, I told my mother and grandmother in a very matter of fact tone that when I grew up, I was going to get my boobies cut off and get my hair cut like Mr. T so that I would be a boy like him. So as with all of us, my gender identity had been a life long enigma to me. So, with my new found solution and courage in hand I came out as trans for the first time to my wonderful amazing partner Sarah. She of course told me she had an inkling and took it all in stride. She supports me one hundred percent and is my rock when I need her.

So, here it is, a little over a year later and yes, I'm still trans. *chuckles* Contrary to what many of our parents believe, it isn't just a phase. Once you come to terms with being trans you tend to be very tenacious about it. Am I right fellas? And I will always feel that its something to take pride in. We fight long and hard, and wade through so much bullshit to be the men that we've always known we are. So I say wear the fact that you're trans like a badge of courage. Because that's the largest component to successfully navigating this life as a Trans man. Courage. We are the lions that lurk just beneath the surface of your gender perceptions. We are the tigers that lay in wait for our chance to attack life and make it into everything we ever dreamed. We are the bears that will tear you down if you fuck with us or those we love because we know a pain deeper than any canyon and will stop at nothing to protect ourselves and our loved ones. Lions, tigers and bears.

Oh my. Look out world. Here we come.


Gavyn

Bird's Eye View - Pissing Perspective

I walked out of my literature class with my bottle of water - strutted. Not walked. I was trying to finish it as fast as I could without looking like I hadn't had anything to drink in 5 years and without puking.

From the third story window I looked out to see if it was still raining - it was... drizzling. There were these two girls sitting on a bench engaged in idle conversation but noticeably noticing me. Maybe they were glaring at my package, my amazing fashion sense... who knows.

So, I finished the water and felt the sudden urge to piss.

I put my backpack straps over both shoulders, placed the buds back in my ears and played Gravity by Sara Barielles.

There was no one in the men's room. Just me, two toilets and a urinal. No, urinal. Maybe next time. You still intimidate me a bit.

I went in the first stall and closed the door. There wasn't really a need to do this, but I felt like I wanted the privacy in case someone did walk in. This is my first time.

I fumbled with my buckle and finally wiped out my dick. After a moment to adjust it to the right place I let myself pee.

Nothing came out.

I wiggled a little bit. Thought of waterfalls and rivers. I thought of what water sounds like. I thought of how ridiculous I probably look. I thought of nothing.

Then something came out.

Piss, obviously. And I smiled coyly to myself as I watched it flow out of my penis and into the toilet.

Instinctively, I went to put the seat down. This, made me laugh out loud to myself.

I walked out.

....didn't wash my hands.


Oz