anaissa
03-05-2014, 06:24 AM
Years ago, while hurtling headlong into puberty, I began to develop fleshy breasts, a condition in boys known as gynecomastia. As time went on, my chest became quite feminine in appearance and I became the victim of much teasing, bullying, and, sad to say, even worse. The unthinkable happened to me after gym class one day when a trio of thugs forced their way onto me and made me "do what girls are meant to do." (Their words)
Needless to say I was traumatized by the sexual assault and I started hating myself more and more. I was greatly conflicted because deep down inside I really felt like a girl, wanted to be a girl, and even had my own pair of starter breasts :)
But my life was miserable and I lived in fear and frustration. It seemed to me that God had gotten it half-right. But then he went an spoiled it by giving me male reproductive organs. There was no one to talk to and support was not really available in those days. I didn't have a friend to talk to about this and my parents were pretty devout Catholics with a judgmental streak that was pretty sharp and caustic.
So I struggled with gender identity issues and just to make sure that I was fully tormented, I struggled with sexuality issues. Despite the attack and brutality of it, I found myself wanting to be with other boys--not as my male self, but as a fully transformed, honest-to-god female. I would look into the mirror and I was terribly confused. Who the hell was I?
Deep down inside, I knew that I was a transsexual, even though at the time I wasn't aware of all that that entailed. I knew that I was attracted to men and I looked with envy upon my female classmates who could go after whatever boy they wanted.
So what did I do? The product of an Italian-Catholic home, I did what I was bred to do--repress, eat, and repress some more. In order to challenge the thinking that I was a freak, I set out to bed as many of my female classmates as I could. I tried to act all macho, but it did not come naturally to me. I was a mess and a half.
Ultimately I would explore my homosexuality but something was still not quite right. I entered into the subculture of female impersonation, but that, too, seemed to be off the mark. An FI would never have sex dressed as a woman (maybe never is a strong word), but FIs tended to be gay through and through and so the feminine illusion was not part of their repertoire sexually.
As years went by, my feelings of being an alien in my own body became stronger so I repressed harder. Eventually, I would marry someone and together we would have a beautiful, wonderful son.
So here I am, just north of middle-aged, and I continue to wrestle with my identity and my orientation--two very separate, but powerful conflicts waging war inside me.
As I began writing this I was heading in the direction of asking, "does this sound familiar to anyone?" But now that I have almost finished writing this post, it occurs to me that I simply needed to get this out. Thank you for listening to me. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to express myself in a safe place.
Hope you all have a great day.
Anaissa
Needless to say I was traumatized by the sexual assault and I started hating myself more and more. I was greatly conflicted because deep down inside I really felt like a girl, wanted to be a girl, and even had my own pair of starter breasts :)
But my life was miserable and I lived in fear and frustration. It seemed to me that God had gotten it half-right. But then he went an spoiled it by giving me male reproductive organs. There was no one to talk to and support was not really available in those days. I didn't have a friend to talk to about this and my parents were pretty devout Catholics with a judgmental streak that was pretty sharp and caustic.
So I struggled with gender identity issues and just to make sure that I was fully tormented, I struggled with sexuality issues. Despite the attack and brutality of it, I found myself wanting to be with other boys--not as my male self, but as a fully transformed, honest-to-god female. I would look into the mirror and I was terribly confused. Who the hell was I?
Deep down inside, I knew that I was a transsexual, even though at the time I wasn't aware of all that that entailed. I knew that I was attracted to men and I looked with envy upon my female classmates who could go after whatever boy they wanted.
So what did I do? The product of an Italian-Catholic home, I did what I was bred to do--repress, eat, and repress some more. In order to challenge the thinking that I was a freak, I set out to bed as many of my female classmates as I could. I tried to act all macho, but it did not come naturally to me. I was a mess and a half.
Ultimately I would explore my homosexuality but something was still not quite right. I entered into the subculture of female impersonation, but that, too, seemed to be off the mark. An FI would never have sex dressed as a woman (maybe never is a strong word), but FIs tended to be gay through and through and so the feminine illusion was not part of their repertoire sexually.
As years went by, my feelings of being an alien in my own body became stronger so I repressed harder. Eventually, I would marry someone and together we would have a beautiful, wonderful son.
So here I am, just north of middle-aged, and I continue to wrestle with my identity and my orientation--two very separate, but powerful conflicts waging war inside me.
As I began writing this I was heading in the direction of asking, "does this sound familiar to anyone?" But now that I have almost finished writing this post, it occurs to me that I simply needed to get this out. Thank you for listening to me. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to express myself in a safe place.
Hope you all have a great day.
Anaissa