Never really understood my dysphoria until now. Never was able to view it as I am now. All the things that eat away at me. The things that bring up feelings of hate, anger, profound sadness, unease, dissatisfaction, etc…
The biggest trigger of my dysphoria has always been my facial hair, and more directly, the shadow that remains even after shaving as close as is humanly possible. The only times I haven’t felt this is when I’ve pulled all the dark facial hairs out. Then there’s the stubble that’s left behind by the white hairs, that aren’t a visual trigger, but a touch trigger.
I was never one that looked forward to shaving for the first time (excepting maybe my legs). Once I did start, my face did not like being shaved. It complained often with blood or painful irritation if I tried to get too close, or shave more often than once every few days. Eventually I wound up in a routine where I’d shave once a week. I even grew goatees and van dykes. Those would last a few weeks and then get shaved. I will be so relieved when this source of dysphoria is gone.
My eyebrows were a source of dysphoria before I had Teresa pluck them about 8 years ago. We did it slowly over a few weeks, but everyone noticed, they just didn’t say anything. We were trying for metrosexual, but actually wound up with feminine at first. Which I loved, but it was not what I wanted at the time, I was not out. We moved them back into metrosexual range as they grew back. I’ve pretty much left them alone since that point. They need a bit of fixing once I go 100% full time, but for now, I’m happy with them.
My second biggest trigger is my body hair. I remember the first time I got chest hair, I shaved it off for a few months before it got to be too much. I’d already succumbed to the despair of arm and leg hair. And, thanks to my lineage, there was ample hair. And lets not forget the back hair.
The first time I shaved my legs was in high school. I somehow got up the nerve to do it, and no one but me ever saw. I wore sweat pants for 2 weeks until it grew back. It was the most amazing feeling to have that hair gone. Not just the physical sensation, but the emotional sensation as well. I would intermittently shave my legs until about 12-14 years ago where I just started doing it all the time. Then I started doing my arms – first just trimming them really short, then finally shaving them.
I told people it was because I hated the hair. And it was cooler in the summer heat. Both are true. I never realized why I hated it so much until recently though. I thought it was just an inconvenience to being a cross dresser. But, no, it was incongruous with how I really saw myself. And, as I was hiding that part of me away, it wasn’t a connection I was making.
To a lesser extent, my shoulders and my biceps cause some issues with me. If I have them covered by a shirt or a shrug, I really don’t mind my physical outline. If my shoulders and biceps are bared though, that’s a different story. I only see male arms at that point. Not sure if that’s something that will ever go away. It may, if I lose some upper body strength with hormones, diminish my shoulders a bit. Or I may just have to learn to accept them as is. I’ve managed to do that with other things I have no control over, so I’m sure I’ll figure it out.
My hands are big. I may have a female digit ratio, but my hands are big regardless. Longer sleeves help to a certain extent, as do big clunky jewellery.
I used to think my feet were big, but for my height, they really aren’t. Teresa is 5’6″ and wears a size 10. I’m 6’5″ and wear a 13 or 13 Wide (in most styles). I think my feet actually look pretty feminine as long as they have socks or shoes on them. 😉
So, after spending so many years hating certain things about my appearance, I now know why I hate them. They don’t fit. My internal view of self is not in line with my external image. I’ve made some progress is fixing that, and more is to come.
There are other sources of dysphoria I’m noticing as well. They’ve become much more pronounced now that I’m where I am in transition. Mostly this is happening at work where I’m still presenting as male. Just being interacted with and reacting as male is bothersome. It is so ingrained in me that when presenting as ‘James’ I find it difficult to let me show through. I do try though. I’ve made some progress de-masculinizing my male persona. But all the old mannerisms are still there (luckily not when I’m not at work) and speech patterns.
When I’m having a particularly bad day, I just find a reflection (mirror or window) and focus on my eyes for a bit. I can always see ‘me’ in my eyes.
– Jess
Addendum:
Wearing a wig right now I forgot about another source of dysphoria. I also keep it under wraps at work, because it bugs me that much. My head hair. When Teresa and I met, my hair was thinning but I had it combed back (used to be parted on the side), and was trying various products to make it look thicker. The back and sides were normal, but the top, and temples were thinning badly.
Teresa talked me into shaving it. Which I did begrudgingly. I loved my hair. Losing it to thinning was horrible. Shaving it off traded one sense of dysphoria for another. It was an equal trade in that regard. It looked less thin being really really short, but on the other hand, it was really really short.
Even though it’s still thin, and missing completely at the temples, my decision to grow it back out has made me happier. The hormones will help it fill in a bit, and I’m curious to see where it can get to. It may be a failed experiment, but to not try seems counter productive.