I'm perfectly okay with everything down below the belt and I wasn't fond of my chest, but it didn't cause me distress like some guys experience. I actually had a dream right after I had top surgery where I was serving my breasts tea and explaining to them that it was just best we went our separate ways and I felt kinda bad for them. I woke up and laughed about it, but I had little funeral for them by burning my one bra I had left.
Don't get me wrong, I'm much happier with my chest now and I feel infinitely more comfortable, but I never hated my body. The way I look at it, this body is the only one I'll ever have and I want to take care of it, even if it refused to develop the way it should have in my mind. For a body, mines alright.
Except that bum knee. Ol' Righty is a jerk.
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