I’m not a big believer in the school of thought that LGBTQ people will gain a better place in society if we can just show the straight world that we’re all the same, because, quite frankly, we’re not all the same.
If you have to start your article by saying, ‘I’m just a regular guy’, you’re probably not just a regular guy.
I guess most guys aren’t born female and dressed up in lacy pink dresses and bonnets until they were old enough to rip them off and try and flush them down the loo (true story).
I guess most guys didn’t get told off for climbing on the monkey bars or not sitting with their knees together or for demanding culottes instead of skirts. Most guys wouldn’t have been bought skirts in the first place.
Most guys wouldn’t have have a series of ongoing medical procedures to radically alter their bodies either, they wouldn’t have needed to because they wouldn’t have been systematically crushed by the relentless onset of puberty and hips and breasts and all those other delightful things…
Luckily I had the chance to do puberty again, this time as a boy. And although the idea that getting to do something as gross and confusing as puberty again can be described as lucky is as strange to me as it is to you, it’s actually true… Apart from the acne, and the sweatiness, and the oily hair, and the constant hunger, oh and not being able to get out of bed in the morning and… Let’s move on, shall we?
Three years ago, I was living as a girl, I was a double university graduate with a good job, good friends, a nice apartment and pretty well off but I wasn’t happy, in fact I was miserable.
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