Two weeks from now, at around this time I’ll have anti-androgens and estrogen coursing through my blood stream.
I received the results of my blood test earlier this week. Nothing out of the ordinary. My cholesterol is a little high, but nothing to worry about.
My testosterone levels are on the low side. Probably a side effect of my anti-depressants. But again, nothing to worry about.
I really don’t know how things are going to play out at work.
I have a pretty secure position, but still.
For the most part I don’t think that I’ll have any problem.
I know my life in the great outdoors is gonna get a little more complicated.
But complicated is what I seem to do the best.
To not be male is my primary goal.
As I’ve said, I’ve never identified as male.
But nonetheless male is what I have been.
Was never really masculine enough.
And people have always accused me of not being straight.
Captain Terry Totzke was the first person in my life to accuse me of being a homosexual.
For years after the abuse I had always wondered if Totzke was right. Maybe I got abused because I was gay or because I acted too much like a girl.
School wasn’t too bad, until grade 7 when everyone’s hormones started switching into overdrive, then I was a target for the real boys who didn’t want a faggot in their midsts. I could never figure out what it was. Was it the way I walked? Was it the way I talked? Was it the fact I never acted like horndog around girls and that I never showed any interest in girls?
When I worked for Ed, Bruce, and Dirk at Classic Billiards, Ed was always quick with the gay humour. I got sent to do a service call at the Hotel Isabella by myself with Ed asking me if I got any “action” when I came back to the shop. Ed even sent me off to see a rather interesting promoter in the city. Ed kept asking me if he made any advances to me and if I did anything with him.
In my teen years I would periodically find myself being groped by random men. I never could figure out why I was being groped and no one else was. Like I’d be riding the subway and some dude would make a bee line for me on an empty car, sit down beside me, make some small talk, and then his hand would be massaging my crotch. One time I was downtown at Funland Arcade, I was playing pinball, and the guy wasn’t even being coy about it, he just came up from behind, stuck his hand between my legs, and he wasn’t even coy about it. And as he’s doing that he asks me if I want to go back to his place as he finds me really cute.
I got mugged back in 1995 down at Burrard and West Georgia in downtown Vancouver. The first thing that the investigating officer wanted to know is was this actually a fight between me and my boyfriend or perhaps I tried to pick up a straight guy in a bar.
I had a manger in the early ’00s who would frequently refer to me as “Freddie” as in Freddie Mercury. He would often urge me to use protection when I had sex as he didn’t want me to catch AIDs.
While I was working for this same manager, one of the contractors that did construction projects for the company used to wait until no one was around, then he’d call me a faggot, or a fucking queer. I’d go talk to the manager and he’d laugh it off and tell me that I had to grow a thicker skin if I wanted to survive in the world.
When I first started working at the hospital my department was managed by an outside management firm. I had two mangers that worked for this outside contractor. One of these managers refused to acknowledge me. The other manager, who was the first manager’s manager said that I was far too flamboyant and that if I toned it down maybe the other manager would begin to tolerate me.
But through all of this, never once did I feel “gay”.
I just never really was attracted to women.
And actually, I was never really attracted to men either.
Since I was a kid I was certain that I was going to have nice breasts. Not big ones, nothing like Dolly Parton or Jane Mansfield. Just nice ones.
All the other stuff I wasn’t too concerned about because I really wasn’t aware of the other stuff yet.
Around age 5 on CFB Shearwater, me and three of my female friends were playing in the garage attached to one of their PMQs. I can’t honestly remember how it came to this, but the three of them were tying to help me push my penis back inside because the consensus was that I must have peed too hard one time and that’s why everything popped out and why I didn’t look like them.
But the differences down below never really caused me any issues until later.
In the years that I lived on CFB Griesbach in the aftermath of CFB Namao I really despised what I had between my legs. I didn’t like it and I didn’t want it.
Even though I had been sexually abused for 1-1/2 years, I’m certain that the disdain that I felt towards my junk wasn’t because of the abuse.
About that time I had started going through the early parts of puberty.
And I really didn’t like what was going on.
The feelings of phantom breasts were becoming more intense. It’s like I felt like these should be developing, but they never did.
And at the same time it felt like my hips were supposed to be widening, but they never did. It’s an odd sensation that still persists to this day.
I used to cry myself to sleep every night hoping that I’d wake up as a girl the next day, but childhood hopes can’t overcome physical realities.
It was just after we moved to CFB Downsview in Toronto that my nipples started to secrete a milky white liquid. Finally! I thought that I was finally going to get my breasts. Nope.
Apparently some boys experience this leakage and it’s quite normal.
Transitioning isn’t something that I just decided to do on a whim.
I legally changed my name back in 2008 as a first step in the process.
Bobbie was supposed to eventually become Bobbi.
I even wrote my father a detailed letter explaining what I wanted to do and why I was doing it. He never wrote back or called after that.
And it’s not like he didn’t know what was coming down the pike. In August of 2006 we had an in depth conversation about the events on CFB Namao in which he blamed his mother for hiring the babysitter and that I just had to understand that none of it was his fault.
I told him that I wanted to go after the babysitter and Richard cautioned me against doing that as I might not like the way the shits smells.
After we had that initial telephone call he called me on a daily basis for almost 2 months, but then the calls just suddenly stopped.
I think maybe I had mentioned the verboten topic in casual passing in one phone call.
When I got my name change in 2008 I was so geared up towards taking the necessary steps, but then in 2009 I got an offer of employment that would steer me off course.
The new job disappeared due to a dispute between two factions of shareholders that owned the company. One faction wanted to keep the business operating, the other faction just wanted to sell the property and get the money and get out of there.
I ended up taking some of the shareholders to the Supreme Court of BC. Took a few months of legal back and forth but we ended up settling out of court.
Armed with this, I decided to take on the babysitter.
That was a fucking mistake.
I could have transitioned years ago, but instead I got ensnared in the shit my father warned me about. For 13 years I got derailed on my gender adventure by a military hellbent on keeping their dirty laundry out of sight of the public.
They lied, and they lied, even though they knew the truth.
They called me a societal malcontent with an axe to grind against the military.
The Minister of National Defence accused me of being a scammer looking for a quick buck.
So, here I am waiting for two weeks.
Two weeks for me to get my first dose of anti-androgen meds and my first dose of estrogen.
I won’t truly be a woman, and I’m fine with that.
Just so long as I can no longer be considered a male, I’m happy with that.
If this works and there are no adverse effects, then I do plan to have all traces of my male genitalia removed. No penis, no testicles, no scrotum. Just nothing.
I’ve often wondered what it would be like if humans were born genderless and then had to choose a gender on the 16th birthday, what gender would I have chosen.
The sad thing about being a human being is having to endure other human beings that “know more”.
“God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve” blah, blah, blah.
There’s only two genders……. blah, blah, blah.
Boys are supposed to have sex with girls, not with other boys (Totzke said this)…… blah, blah, blah.
You can’t have a penis and testicles and long for your phantom breasts and phantom hips….. blah, blah, blah.
I’m not a brainologist, or a genderologist, or a sexual attractionologist, I’m just a XY that’s never felt like an XY or identified as an XY.
Beeshive 