How many transmen have wanted to pee standing up, or even tried it as a child? I’ll bet most of us did. For those of us who never tried, let me assure you that it’s a messy business.
No, I’m not gonna spend an entire post talking about peeing (though I’m sure I could), but I bet I’ve got your attention now. So what’s this all about?
I had my third appointment with my gender therapist a week ago. Of course I intended to write about it the same evening, or the next, but that never happened. Instead, I wrecked my body giving my pantry a much needed and long overdue makeover. But I’m not aching so much anymore and decided to finally write that blog post today.
What can I say?
I gave my gender therapist a printed copy of my life story on my previous appointment, so this time we used that as a framework for the things we need to discuss.
Of course you can’t fit a good five decades into just one hour’s talk, so we only talked about my childhood this time. Seeing that my childhood was actually pretty good – despite the gender issues – it really wasn’t too bad. I had many fond memories to share, even though there was hurt too.
The hurt: Not being accepted for who I was and having to play at being a real girl. The feeling that I could not develop into the person I was meant to be. The rejection of the boy inside and the shame of not being a good girl.
The good: My wonderful grandparents. My grandfather who clearly doted on me, despite the fact that I wore “boy clothes” (girl trousers, really 😀 ). The freedom I had to climb all the trees I wanted and engage in as much rough play as I liked. My animal friends. The naughty things I did – and often got away with.
Really, life wasn’t too bad when I was little. The only thing that was wrong, was that I’d been born a girl and society expected me to behave like one. But Mum and Dad were fine with me being a tomboy and a daredevil.
OK. Maybe they didn’t really approve of the daredevil part but at least they were careful not to panic when I was doing something potentially dangerous again. I swear, I never saw any danger. Not when I was little. Life was one big adventure and I intended to live life to the fullest.
Near the end of our one-hour session, it was abundantly clear to my gender therapist that I felt like a boy. At least socially. But how did I feel about my body?
I said that, as a child, I never thought much about my body. It was just there and that was all there was to it. He got more specific and asked how I felt about my genitalia as a child. Did I wish to have a willy? Or did I think I’d grow a willy when I grew older?
No, and no. Like I said, I never thought much about my body. Not as a child. And besides, even at that age, I was rational enough to know that I wouldn’t mysteriously grow a willy. Ever. So what was the use thinking about it, eh?
He then asked if I’d ever wanted to pee standing up, or even tried it. I had to chuckle at that. Funny thing is, I’d completely forgotten about it, but the moment he asked that question the memory was there.
My older sister and I attempting to pee standing up together. It was always easy to talk my sister into doing mischief with me. She might have been a real girl, but she was cool like that. At the time – the seventies – our loo had a high, wall-mounted water tank and I, in my infinite childhood wisdom, had decided we should grab onto the tube that ran from the tank to the bowl and place our feet against the wall. I’m sure you can imagine the resulting mess.
I’m sorry to say it was a one-off experience. Mum was pretty angry with us.
Still, it got me thinking. Did I secrectly wish to have a willy? I guess I may never know now. One thing I do know, is this: I will not – ever – have anything changed about my body that I’m not 100% sure about. Right now, I am not sure about wanting to have male genitalia, and as long as I am not sure, I won’t have those bits changed.
It’s that easy.