Gentleman. Young lady. Handsome man. Beautiful woman. Sexy guy. Nice lady.
I get called these things on an almost daily basis, usually dependent on what the speaker is doing. If they look at my face or hear my voice then they get the pronoun correct, but a few inches down from my face and...
WARNING! This dude has breasts!
Even with a binder...a tight binder that almost cuts off my circulation, they still attract attention. Big t-shirts, jackets, and still it happens.
When I was trying to live as a woman, I was happy the day my boobs grew in, though privately I bound them with ACE bandages, because it made my biological mother happy. "You finally look like a woman!"
Yeah. Thanks Mom.
So now the fact that the thing I'd prayed for in order to make the biologicals happy is now hindering me from making myself happy seems very...ironic.
It's also very frustrating. So much so that I have started having dreams of giving myself a mastectomy. Especially on days like today when I have guys licking their lips as they look at them and then jumping in shock when they hear my deep voice or see LBV tenting the front of my jeans.
Why yes, that is my cock. It's 12inches long and 2.5 inches wide, wanna sit on it?
So what's my plan of action? Do I grab Cherie's large knife and cut off the fun bags that fill the front of my shirts, even with the binder on, myself? Do I tell Brandi that having them there is seriously wreaking havoc with my mental state? Or do I do like I did today and look the guy or gal in the eye and using my "Barry-White-In-Training" voice say, "Don't let the boobs fool you, I'm all man"?
Either way something needs to change and soon.