Living in Tranztopia

Today I went to the drugstore to pick up supplies to deal with a birthing-related condition that still plagues me 40 years later. Ah, the joys of owning a female body. I came to the counter with my inflatable donut, stool softener, benzocaine and cortisone cream and noticed the cashier behind the counter. This was a tall teenager with a big jaw, wide shoulders, narrow hips, an adam’s apple, chin length styled blonde hair, peach fuzz on his baby fat cheeks and a pair of breasts like golf balls mounted on his chest. He was puffy all over, which I recognize as a side effect of cross sex hormone treatments. Of course I knew I had to pretend everything was just fine and nothing abnormal was going on. The kid had a shy smile and was in nowise one of the “special snowflakes” who threaten to rape and burn TERFS, and I certainly do not blame kids like him for getting railroaded into hormones and surgery as a cure for not fitting into the man box or the woman cage. [….]

Read full article aLiving in Tranztopia — Madam Nomad

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