Tuesday, May 02, 2017
Friday, May 27, 2016
I don't know
Hey there, I know I haven't written anything in a very long time. A lot has happened since my last post: I've finished a doctorate program, got the co-edited memoir a publication date, met a lot of lifelong friends, been on a lot of awkward first dates, lost my PoPo and Travis, adopted a really cute cat, and I've been trying to relearn how to be in a romantic relationship in a more healthy way.
This last year has been a bit of a whirlwind for me. I've been more busy than during any of my previous six years after one of my slowest years (I was on a fellowship and MIA from campus). It's been an emotional rollercoaster mainly due to a couple of people who were mainstays and pretty stabilizing forces in my life moving away. I knew it would be hard without Fe and Naveen in LA, but I think I learned pretty quickly how much they centered me in the department and outside. I know also as this experience has drawn to a close, I've been thinking about all the times I really didn't feel like I knew what I was doing...whether that was TAing or being the Instructor for the first time, or writing an abstract, or trying to figure out just what was expected from a depth exam. I used to say "I don't know" a lot to students, and I realized this week I almost never say that anymore. I know this has very little to do with obtaining some form of expertise, and more that I've learned to move onto topics that can be discussed concretely rather than sit around and speculate. But speculation is also an important part of life, and I think it's a problem that I've stopped coming from a place of uncertainly and admittance to not knowing. How can you be remade, and be open to critique if you don't admit that you will always not know? I admit that, maybe it's due to tolkenization and my increasing intolerance of it, that I am less open to critique without some form of construction than I was at the beginning of this program. This is especially true when teaching undergrads. It's often a revelation to students that they can be critical of what they read, and often students find discursive deconstruction very liberating because of that. But I think it's really easy to tear something apart, and much harder to build something from what may not completely jive with you. The students who are able to do both, and have a more nuanced look at things are the ones who often are able to both say they don't know, and use that critical not-knowing to start something original and intersectional.
Anyway, I don't know. Quite often these days I wish I was not myself. Life is happening too fast, after 5 years of it happening so slow. I spent a lot of this time with a handful of people, books, papers, and trying to figure out what being a doctoral student meant. I feel like I am much more socially awkward than I was at the beginning of this program, and a lot less direct. I had some of the worst anxiety and depressed feelings for months at a time in this program, when I felt so cut off from everything that made me feel connected to a community. I was homesick for Boston for the first several years, while making a home with Freda and Bo. While living in ktown, the bike commute to campus literally saved me. It gave me something to always look forward to, and I still miss the nighttime bike ride back to Oxford Avenue when the LA streets are empty and the moon is out. I miss the long graduated Asian Am cohorts who welcomed me into their house parties and dinners. I miss bowling with Lina and Scott. I will miss a lot more as I move on to what will probably be a more lonely postdoctorate life. But I am really ready to not be a grad student anymore. I think I was ready to not be one last year.
I'm not going to mince words: it was really really hard to be a trans guy at this school pretty much the entire time. The student healthcare center was a crapshoot as were the counselors at Psych Services. My first therapist was literally the worst, and I felt like I couldn't change counselors for the entire first year. After the first two years, I never thought anyone would touch or love me and often felt like a bad queer for not liking boys. I felt pretty alienated from the transmasculine poc community because I liked female identified people and I was on testosterone. So I tried hard to be straight and to go stealth in the bunch of times I got so lonely I tried to go get dates. I decided that unless someone queer decided I was queer I would not identify as such. My gender dysphoria was often really out of control, and I remember walking to and from class the first three years feeling like a "fake" boy/man. On top of this, once I had a complete hysto/oopho I started getting monthly migraines with panic attacks and daily hot flashes. It was miserable, and I often imagined joining a menopausal support group, just to talk to other people having hot flashes.
So yeah, so much has happened in the past bunch of years. High highs, and very low lows. I've left a lot out in this, but ever since I filed my dissertation and had a chance to really reflect on things, I've been having flashbacks about all that has happened and I feel amazed, overwhelmed and overcome with emotions. This was not what I thought being in this program and at this school was going to be like when I got that acceptance letter over seven years ago.
This last year has been a bit of a whirlwind for me. I've been more busy than during any of my previous six years after one of my slowest years (I was on a fellowship and MIA from campus). It's been an emotional rollercoaster mainly due to a couple of people who were mainstays and pretty stabilizing forces in my life moving away. I knew it would be hard without Fe and Naveen in LA, but I think I learned pretty quickly how much they centered me in the department and outside. I know also as this experience has drawn to a close, I've been thinking about all the times I really didn't feel like I knew what I was doing...whether that was TAing or being the Instructor for the first time, or writing an abstract, or trying to figure out just what was expected from a depth exam. I used to say "I don't know" a lot to students, and I realized this week I almost never say that anymore. I know this has very little to do with obtaining some form of expertise, and more that I've learned to move onto topics that can be discussed concretely rather than sit around and speculate. But speculation is also an important part of life, and I think it's a problem that I've stopped coming from a place of uncertainly and admittance to not knowing. How can you be remade, and be open to critique if you don't admit that you will always not know? I admit that, maybe it's due to tolkenization and my increasing intolerance of it, that I am less open to critique without some form of construction than I was at the beginning of this program. This is especially true when teaching undergrads. It's often a revelation to students that they can be critical of what they read, and often students find discursive deconstruction very liberating because of that. But I think it's really easy to tear something apart, and much harder to build something from what may not completely jive with you. The students who are able to do both, and have a more nuanced look at things are the ones who often are able to both say they don't know, and use that critical not-knowing to start something original and intersectional.
Anyway, I don't know. Quite often these days I wish I was not myself. Life is happening too fast, after 5 years of it happening so slow. I spent a lot of this time with a handful of people, books, papers, and trying to figure out what being a doctoral student meant. I feel like I am much more socially awkward than I was at the beginning of this program, and a lot less direct. I had some of the worst anxiety and depressed feelings for months at a time in this program, when I felt so cut off from everything that made me feel connected to a community. I was homesick for Boston for the first several years, while making a home with Freda and Bo. While living in ktown, the bike commute to campus literally saved me. It gave me something to always look forward to, and I still miss the nighttime bike ride back to Oxford Avenue when the LA streets are empty and the moon is out. I miss the long graduated Asian Am cohorts who welcomed me into their house parties and dinners. I miss bowling with Lina and Scott. I will miss a lot more as I move on to what will probably be a more lonely postdoctorate life. But I am really ready to not be a grad student anymore. I think I was ready to not be one last year.
I'm not going to mince words: it was really really hard to be a trans guy at this school pretty much the entire time. The student healthcare center was a crapshoot as were the counselors at Psych Services. My first therapist was literally the worst, and I felt like I couldn't change counselors for the entire first year. After the first two years, I never thought anyone would touch or love me and often felt like a bad queer for not liking boys. I felt pretty alienated from the transmasculine poc community because I liked female identified people and I was on testosterone. So I tried hard to be straight and to go stealth in the bunch of times I got so lonely I tried to go get dates. I decided that unless someone queer decided I was queer I would not identify as such. My gender dysphoria was often really out of control, and I remember walking to and from class the first three years feeling like a "fake" boy/man. On top of this, once I had a complete hysto/oopho I started getting monthly migraines with panic attacks and daily hot flashes. It was miserable, and I often imagined joining a menopausal support group, just to talk to other people having hot flashes.
So yeah, so much has happened in the past bunch of years. High highs, and very low lows. I've left a lot out in this, but ever since I filed my dissertation and had a chance to really reflect on things, I've been having flashbacks about all that has happened and I feel amazed, overwhelmed and overcome with emotions. This was not what I thought being in this program and at this school was going to be like when I got that acceptance letter over seven years ago.
Tuesday, August 02, 2011
Bottom Surgery
So here we are. I've decided to start looking into Bottom Surgery. It's not something I'm taking lightly. I really don't like surgery, and I've heard and seen some pics of complications with metoidioplasty and phalloplasty. But I've realized that for me it's the next step that I need to feel comfortable in my body. Not having a package has been rough for me. Examples:
I really enjoy hiking. One of the things that often happens on long trails with no johns is you have to take a whiz in the woods. I love going outdoors (this is probably tmi), but it's always an anxiety-ridden activity for me. I've had some close calls in the past. And that's not to count the numerous times I've been in public bathroom stalls with doors that don't lock. (This is especially common in state and national parks, where the clientele is often taking young boys in to pee...young boys who like to look under and/or open stall doors.) As someone who does not like stand and pee devices (those tubes fucking hurt! plus I have a big enough cock that all that rubbing is bad news for my arousal state.) or packing (even with the smallest softest packy it looks like I have a boner) I'd much rather have my attached pack be my only package.
I have has real fears of getting hurt somehow (in a bike accident, having a heart attac later in life et.) that would put me in a hospital that is less-then-kind to transfolks. I've heard enough horror stories about transpeople being medically neglected a left for dead that I really don't want to run that risk.
I'm tired of being stared at like a freak every time I go the ob/gyn office. And being examined is even worse. I'm lucky that the gynecologist at UCLA is ftm friendly, but he still says things like "women on testosterone" and it's just a really out-of-body horrible experience. I really don't want to do that as I age.
Sexually, it's really hard to connect with what's going on below...it's been that way for a while, but now every time I come I usually cry. It's just about the only time I cry anymore, but it's just a psychically painful completely lonely experience. I feel like I'll never have sex with a person again. I feel pretty physically unlovable despite having a nice upper body. I'm really into feminine women (queer or straight) but whenever I get aroused I just feel inadequate (I think this is especially strong because right now all my crushes are on straight women, and it brings up the feeling all wrong in high school stuff).
It's bad, I've talked to a therapist for a while but really there is no advice except accept what you have. I will keep trying to work on that, but really I'd give a lot to have closer to normative male equipment right now. :( I also know it doesn't help that since my ex I've been a series of blaugh dates and had next to no physical touch (which i definitely take a good chunk of the responsibility for). So yeah, that's what I'm working through right now.
I really enjoy hiking. One of the things that often happens on long trails with no johns is you have to take a whiz in the woods. I love going outdoors (this is probably tmi), but it's always an anxiety-ridden activity for me. I've had some close calls in the past. And that's not to count the numerous times I've been in public bathroom stalls with doors that don't lock. (This is especially common in state and national parks, where the clientele is often taking young boys in to pee...young boys who like to look under and/or open stall doors.) As someone who does not like stand and pee devices (those tubes fucking hurt! plus I have a big enough cock that all that rubbing is bad news for my arousal state.) or packing (even with the smallest softest packy it looks like I have a boner) I'd much rather have my attached pack be my only package.
I have has real fears of getting hurt somehow (in a bike accident, having a heart attac later in life et.) that would put me in a hospital that is less-then-kind to transfolks. I've heard enough horror stories about transpeople being medically neglected a left for dead that I really don't want to run that risk.
I'm tired of being stared at like a freak every time I go the ob/gyn office. And being examined is even worse. I'm lucky that the gynecologist at UCLA is ftm friendly, but he still says things like "women on testosterone" and it's just a really out-of-body horrible experience. I really don't want to do that as I age.
Sexually, it's really hard to connect with what's going on below...it's been that way for a while, but now every time I come I usually cry. It's just about the only time I cry anymore, but it's just a psychically painful completely lonely experience. I feel like I'll never have sex with a person again. I feel pretty physically unlovable despite having a nice upper body. I'm really into feminine women (queer or straight) but whenever I get aroused I just feel inadequate (I think this is especially strong because right now all my crushes are on straight women, and it brings up the feeling all wrong in high school stuff).
It's bad, I've talked to a therapist for a while but really there is no advice except accept what you have. I will keep trying to work on that, but really I'd give a lot to have closer to normative male equipment right now. :( I also know it doesn't help that since my ex I've been a series of blaugh dates and had next to no physical touch (which i definitely take a good chunk of the responsibility for). So yeah, that's what I'm working through right now.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
A wonderful blog post on being a good ally
http://mikkikendall.wordpress.com/2011/05/25/the-dos-and-donts-of-being-a-good-ally/
Also it should be added that, dating someone of a group you are an ally of does not give you license to be an asshole about that group. In fact that is actually abusing the title of ally. (Here's to looking at you my most recent crazy ex who fell under quite a few subheadings of this post including the "Oppression Olympics," creates her identity around the oppressions of her diverse group of friends to the detriment of all involved, and preys on mixed-race transmasculine folks.)
On another note, I have been thinking a lot recently about what it means to be a good ally within poc communities, especially when it comes to talking about different racial experiences and oppressions. Solidarity will look different according to one's positionality. This is obvious, but recently I went to a Mixed Student Union meeting and the organizers emphasized "the" mixed heritage experience, which seemed really reductive to me. Obviously being a mixed poc with no white heritage is different than being all poc and mixed. I think there is a caution to really parse out what experiences beyond racism different folks in communities of color experience along lines of class and sexuality also. Anyway, just some food for thought.
Also it should be added that, dating someone of a group you are an ally of does not give you license to be an asshole about that group. In fact that is actually abusing the title of ally. (Here's to looking at you my most recent crazy ex who fell under quite a few subheadings of this post including the "Oppression Olympics," creates her identity around the oppressions of her diverse group of friends to the detriment of all involved, and preys on mixed-race transmasculine folks.)
On another note, I have been thinking a lot recently about what it means to be a good ally within poc communities, especially when it comes to talking about different racial experiences and oppressions. Solidarity will look different according to one's positionality. This is obvious, but recently I went to a Mixed Student Union meeting and the organizers emphasized "the" mixed heritage experience, which seemed really reductive to me. Obviously being a mixed poc with no white heritage is different than being all poc and mixed. I think there is a caution to really parse out what experiences beyond racism different folks in communities of color experience along lines of class and sexuality also. Anyway, just some food for thought.
Monday, January 10, 2011
One Day I'd Love to Know the Name of the Recipient
November 20, 2010 originally composed July 2010:
I want to try something different. Here it goes:
To whoever you are, however insufficient: a love letter.
It is the 4th of July and I am in Cambridge sitting beside the Charles River. It is warm, bright and humid; typical for July 4th in Boston. Tonight there will be the most amazing fireworks show, fried dough and the banks of the Charles will be overflowing. The Pops will play in the hatch shell and I wish I could take you.
If you sit on the Boston side and stare out over the water, it is so peaceful (despite the crowds) right before the show starts. There is an inlet right next to the canons for the “1812 Overture” and if I took you, we would sit there. I think you’ll be able to see the fireworks from just about any spot. Last year it was foggy which sucked.
I think about you every night before I go to sleep: what your favorite color is, where you are and what is happening in your life, your hopes and dreams, if you like dogs and cats as much as I do, what your quirks are, what we will fight about, what you look like. I wish you strength and comfort and safety and patience to find and see me. I wish I could hold you against my chest and kiss you. I wish I could fall asleep on your breasts and run my hands all over your body and through your hair. I wish I knew what your smile looks like and if you will wink at me. I wish I knew what flowers to buy and arrange for you and how you like your laundry folded. I wish I knew if it was tea and/or coffee and which kinds. I wish I knew what your family is like and how you fit in with them. I wish I knew what will make you laugh. I can’t wait to gift you my sweetness and gentleness and I hope I never take your beauty for granted.
Mostly, I just long for you and your well being with every fiber of my body.
Until we meet.
Love,
Jacob
I want to try something different. Here it goes:
To whoever you are, however insufficient: a love letter.
It is the 4th of July and I am in Cambridge sitting beside the Charles River. It is warm, bright and humid; typical for July 4th in Boston. Tonight there will be the most amazing fireworks show, fried dough and the banks of the Charles will be overflowing. The Pops will play in the hatch shell and I wish I could take you.
If you sit on the Boston side and stare out over the water, it is so peaceful (despite the crowds) right before the show starts. There is an inlet right next to the canons for the “1812 Overture” and if I took you, we would sit there. I think you’ll be able to see the fireworks from just about any spot. Last year it was foggy which sucked.
I think about you every night before I go to sleep: what your favorite color is, where you are and what is happening in your life, your hopes and dreams, if you like dogs and cats as much as I do, what your quirks are, what we will fight about, what you look like. I wish you strength and comfort and safety and patience to find and see me. I wish I could hold you against my chest and kiss you. I wish I could fall asleep on your breasts and run my hands all over your body and through your hair. I wish I knew what your smile looks like and if you will wink at me. I wish I knew what flowers to buy and arrange for you and how you like your laundry folded. I wish I knew if it was tea and/or coffee and which kinds. I wish I knew what your family is like and how you fit in with them. I wish I knew what will make you laugh. I can’t wait to gift you my sweetness and gentleness and I hope I never take your beauty for granted.
Mostly, I just long for you and your well being with every fiber of my body.
Until we meet.
Love,
Jacob
Thursday, September 23, 2010
How I've been (honestly)
Ok, I haven't updated this thing in a while but it's time to be real.
I hate my life in this fucking city. It's a desert for a post-op on T Transguy who loves Femme Women. All the femmes that I've met in LA or online at okcupid, or craigslist (yes, I've posted plenty of ads) either want to date each other or don't want to be with a tranny and they say so. There's very little trans-awareness in general in queer female spaces and being born female and queer means liking either hipstery genderqueers or femmes (there are very few butches around this city :( )
All the passion I had for Women's and Gender studies has pretty much died out, which is bad because I'm starting to TA come Monday morning. I don't feel like there's a space for me here and that they admitted me only because I was born female. There's been little to no institutional support for sexuality studies or transgender studies. I feel like a robot here going to work out of habit because it pays the bills which is horrible because of the privilege I have to be in this institution being paid to study. The work isn't exciting because most of it is stuff that doesn't address queerness in a complicated way and mixed race theory is pretty much nonexistant.
I've felt erased in queer spaces, and spaces of color and am really tired of people telling me I should date guys if I ever want to get laid. I'm tired of feeling like half a person admitted into a circle of people of color just because I'm half asian which becomes a space where it's ok to verbally beat up on white people not on whiteness. I am a person of color, but I am also half white. This is not a contradiction. I'm tired of people who wave the radical politics flag but don't see the people they're supposedly fighting for or their privilege in being able to get arrested without fear of being sexually harassed or abused.
Case in point: after SB 1070 was passed last year a bunch of people got arrested for peaceful protest and I was asked to be a part of that group. I would have volunteered but unfortunately I was just trying to survive getting my period back and the worst cramps of my life. If I had gotten arrested and placed with the guys in jail with a period who knows what would have happened. There is a large degree of national and cissexual priviledge in being able to go to the slammer knowing you won't have to worry about a cellmate potentially raping and impregnating you, or being deported because you have a green card. All the people who were released put celebratory pictures on facebook. Instead of focusing on the point of the protest (standing against SB 1070), everyone's status updates were about freeing the protesters. What happens to the power of peaceful protest when it just becomes a self congratulatory excersize? I've become so disillusioned here.
I'm also sick of everyone in queer of color spaces telling me to decolonize my mind and that my past relationships failed because they were with white women. Maybe I'm breaking a confidence here but I wouldn't exist if it wasn't for interracial relationships. Is this the fucking 1950's? And hello dating a 100% woman of color would still be being in an interracial relationship for me...the same degree that being with a white woman would. My past relationships broke up for reasons other then that we both weren't people of color.
I miss the east coast and the East Bay because a) there were femmes who would date transguys and butches b) there wasn't this crazy policing around interracial dating c) there was just a lot more trans-awarness in the academy and in general...I wasn't the only transguy on T with top surgery. Ok rant over. But I seriously am thinking of quitting my program and getting the hell out of here.
I hate my life in this fucking city. It's a desert for a post-op on T Transguy who loves Femme Women. All the femmes that I've met in LA or online at okcupid, or craigslist (yes, I've posted plenty of ads) either want to date each other or don't want to be with a tranny and they say so. There's very little trans-awareness in general in queer female spaces and being born female and queer means liking either hipstery genderqueers or femmes (there are very few butches around this city :( )
All the passion I had for Women's and Gender studies has pretty much died out, which is bad because I'm starting to TA come Monday morning. I don't feel like there's a space for me here and that they admitted me only because I was born female. There's been little to no institutional support for sexuality studies or transgender studies. I feel like a robot here going to work out of habit because it pays the bills which is horrible because of the privilege I have to be in this institution being paid to study. The work isn't exciting because most of it is stuff that doesn't address queerness in a complicated way and mixed race theory is pretty much nonexistant.
I've felt erased in queer spaces, and spaces of color and am really tired of people telling me I should date guys if I ever want to get laid. I'm tired of feeling like half a person admitted into a circle of people of color just because I'm half asian which becomes a space where it's ok to verbally beat up on white people not on whiteness. I am a person of color, but I am also half white. This is not a contradiction. I'm tired of people who wave the radical politics flag but don't see the people they're supposedly fighting for or their privilege in being able to get arrested without fear of being sexually harassed or abused.
Case in point: after SB 1070 was passed last year a bunch of people got arrested for peaceful protest and I was asked to be a part of that group. I would have volunteered but unfortunately I was just trying to survive getting my period back and the worst cramps of my life. If I had gotten arrested and placed with the guys in jail with a period who knows what would have happened. There is a large degree of national and cissexual priviledge in being able to go to the slammer knowing you won't have to worry about a cellmate potentially raping and impregnating you, or being deported because you have a green card. All the people who were released put celebratory pictures on facebook. Instead of focusing on the point of the protest (standing against SB 1070), everyone's status updates were about freeing the protesters. What happens to the power of peaceful protest when it just becomes a self congratulatory excersize? I've become so disillusioned here.
I'm also sick of everyone in queer of color spaces telling me to decolonize my mind and that my past relationships failed because they were with white women. Maybe I'm breaking a confidence here but I wouldn't exist if it wasn't for interracial relationships. Is this the fucking 1950's? And hello dating a 100% woman of color would still be being in an interracial relationship for me...the same degree that being with a white woman would. My past relationships broke up for reasons other then that we both weren't people of color.
I miss the east coast and the East Bay because a) there were femmes who would date transguys and butches b) there wasn't this crazy policing around interracial dating c) there was just a lot more trans-awarness in the academy and in general...I wasn't the only transguy on T with top surgery. Ok rant over. But I seriously am thinking of quitting my program and getting the hell out of here.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
FTM Prosthetics
Due to some dysphoria about my nether regions resulting from a bit of spotting and an almost full blown period coupled with my frustration that some types of bottom surgery that allow one to pee standing up require a hysto, I've been doing a lot more research online to alternatives to phalloplasty and metoidioplasty. (For those who don't know these are the two types of bottom surgery available to FTMs right now.
I don't want a hysto if I can avoid it, yet I'm scared to not have one especially if tomorrow's visit to the radiologist involves finding endometriosis or fibroid tumors (my mom had these in her early forties resulting in a hysto). There's something really invasive to me about having a hysto and scars in that area that I'm not willing to have at this point. Giving up my eggs, even if they've laid dormant all this time is something that I just won't do. I don't plan on having kids myself, but the right to have my eggs removed at some point is something I'm just not ready to part with. Plus I'd feel kinda empty down there without ovaries...I don't know, they've been with me since I was little and body wise, I just want a cock and to produce sperm (something I know will never happen), not anything removed (except at times my uterus).
Anyway, the reason why I bring all this up besides tomorrows Radiologist Appt., UCLA just started covering trans surgeries this year (up to $23,000) which means a hysto and bottom surgery could actually happen. But honestly, I'm not keen on either procedure for what I'd like (to penetrate my partner without have to stop everything and put on a strap-on and also be able to feel inside her, god I'd give almost anything for that. Also, it'd be fantastic to actually pee standing at a urinal or in the woods instead of freaking out in a stall without a door when I'm 60.). Phalloplasty is super dangerous, leaves you with a giant scar on your forearm or thigh and leaves you with a huge penis you need to stick rods in to have sex that is not sensate and you can't urinate out of. Metoidioplasty leaves all the feeling in your cock (*they just use what T gave you) but depending on your urethra you might not be able to pee and honestly with my length I'll maybe be 2 1/2 erect. Metoidioplasty also gives you huge balls (I really don't care for/want balls) via saline implants that sound painful at first and I've read an account in which they deteriorated and infected a guys skin. Yeesh.
So, tonight I came back across a site I'd seen before I was interested in lower surgery and thought about how nice it would be if UCLA would cover a safer, cheaper (and probably better in my opinion) method of giving trans/genderqueer folks cocks. It's a website that makes an ultra realistic prosthetic which you can glue on and wear 24/7:
http://www.ftmprosthetics.com/
I don't want a hysto if I can avoid it, yet I'm scared to not have one especially if tomorrow's visit to the radiologist involves finding endometriosis or fibroid tumors (my mom had these in her early forties resulting in a hysto). There's something really invasive to me about having a hysto and scars in that area that I'm not willing to have at this point. Giving up my eggs, even if they've laid dormant all this time is something that I just won't do. I don't plan on having kids myself, but the right to have my eggs removed at some point is something I'm just not ready to part with. Plus I'd feel kinda empty down there without ovaries...I don't know, they've been with me since I was little and body wise, I just want a cock and to produce sperm (something I know will never happen), not anything removed (except at times my uterus).
Anyway, the reason why I bring all this up besides tomorrows Radiologist Appt., UCLA just started covering trans surgeries this year (up to $23,000) which means a hysto and bottom surgery could actually happen. But honestly, I'm not keen on either procedure for what I'd like (to penetrate my partner without have to stop everything and put on a strap-on and also be able to feel inside her, god I'd give almost anything for that. Also, it'd be fantastic to actually pee standing at a urinal or in the woods instead of freaking out in a stall without a door when I'm 60.). Phalloplasty is super dangerous, leaves you with a giant scar on your forearm or thigh and leaves you with a huge penis you need to stick rods in to have sex that is not sensate and you can't urinate out of. Metoidioplasty leaves all the feeling in your cock (*they just use what T gave you) but depending on your urethra you might not be able to pee and honestly with my length I'll maybe be 2 1/2 erect. Metoidioplasty also gives you huge balls (I really don't care for/want balls) via saline implants that sound painful at first and I've read an account in which they deteriorated and infected a guys skin. Yeesh.
So, tonight I came back across a site I'd seen before I was interested in lower surgery and thought about how nice it would be if UCLA would cover a safer, cheaper (and probably better in my opinion) method of giving trans/genderqueer folks cocks. It's a website that makes an ultra realistic prosthetic which you can glue on and wear 24/7:
http://www.ftmprosthetics.com/
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