I went to an endocrinologist today to address the problem with my height. That was all. I just wanted another opinion and maybe some options to help me hit the 5 foot mark. My dad is over six feet tall and my mother isn't all that short either, so I thought that was pretty reasonable.

Nope.
She tells me that I can go get the bone age done again (which, by the way, is often inaccurate), but she's pretty much completely sure that I can't grow at all. Then she told me I could wear heels.

I waited in that nightmare of a clinic (attached to a mental hospital, mind you, with staff who didn't know what an endocrinologist was) waiting as they painstakingly put my information into a system I would never need to re-access, just to be told I could wear heels.
Are you kidding me?

And do you really think that because you and the other doctor are women, that makes it any less horrible to strip my clothes off in front of you so you can look at my hair and chest growth? I would rip the damn things off my chest and throw them at you if I could. I would rip the female organs out of my body, too. TAKE THEM. PACKAGE DEAL.

The x-ray technician tells me it's okay that I'm short because "you're a girl". NO.
NONONONONONO. IT IS NOT OKAY. IT IS NOT OKAY TO SAY THAT TO ME EITHER.

Trans or not, do you really think that makes it better?! You don't get to just discount the fact that I am half a foot shorter than the shortest person in my family (SHE'S FEMALE, BY THE WAY, THANK YOU) because my chart says F. Screw you.

The endo told me that she wouldn't ever believe that I am my current age if she saw me on the street, and pegged me at around 12 at the oldest. It's bad enough that my transition is being held at a full stop because my mother can't possibly let her child be a freak, but now I'm going to be this height forever. I can't gain any respect from my peers (or pretty much anyone), because they can't see past the stupid baby face. Who would listen to a stupid little girl?

I hate everything about my body.

Are you sure you hate EVERYTHING? There must be something that you like about it. I don't like most of my body except for my feminine face and lips.

I know how you feel regarding your mother, mine has a severe case of denial, and I can tell that she doesn't want me to be a "freak". Most mothers will come around eventually. If you get a time that feels right to talk to her about being trans, do so. Otherwise, don't force the conversations; trust me, it doesn't go so well.

That's just what I think, take it or leave it.

-Sky

I think that's BS, I'd go elsewhere and get another opinion because it sounds to me that your pituitary gland needs a boost.

Where are you located? Anywhere near a bigger city with more resources?

Really sorry to hear about your frustrations.

I can so understand how you will feel. Then you be told, it's okay that I'm short because "you're a girl". Is frankly insulting, patronising and rude.

I am not sure how old you are, Liminal Stranger, but whether you can gain height again is dependent on whether or not your growth plates have fused.  You may need to see an orthopedic surgeon about that.

If they have not fused, human growth hormone therapy could help.

Believe me, I'm living in a huge city. It's just that I'm covered under my father's insurance, which appears to be run by Scrooge himself. My pituitary gland is supposedly fine according to tests done a while back, but we had the levels retaken today so we'll see how that went. I had an x-ray done today to assess my bone age (i.e. whether or not the plates have fused in my hand because that's the standard area of measurement), even though two and a half years ago it came up that they were closed. My orthopedic isn't quite sure if there's room or not; they last said I had evidence of growth plates when I was 11 and broke one in my ankle. Haven't grown since then, though :/

No one will give me GH because I'm not deficient in it, and this lovely doctor claims that it was too late even the first time I saw an endo. Yes, because I'm psychic and knew that I would completely stop growing without explanation. And I don't want to hear the BS about puberty- my mother and aunt and everyone else grew more well after it started.

As for my body? I can't think of a single thing to like about it except that it's generally free of genetic disease. I'm literally trapped, and no one seems to get that not every person who isn't wheelchair-bound is perfectly fine in the physical sense. Everything is all inflamed inside it, my joints are awful, my bones ache like a 90 year olds'. My legs are disproportionately thick and I have a female shape because my body likes storing fat that way, I'm tired, constantly getting migraines, my tendons are too tight, my hands hate listening to my brain and working, and it just basically causes pain and grief being in it. A normal, functioning (in the motor sense) male body without pain would free me in unimaginable ways.

Maybe the one redeeming thing is having creepy color-changing eyes and fangs for bottom incisors. That's kind of cool.

Right now I've just recently gone to an intake appointment with a therapist and let her know my whole situation. Problem? There's no right time to talk to my mother about this. My current plan involves cutting off contact with everyone when I move out, because even without the whole trans situation on top of it, I don't know if I can maintain a normal relationship with any of my family members.

What really irks me is that unless you find the right MD with a really investigative mentality you never get to the root cause of whatever problem you might be suffering from. The rank and file physicians would rather just throw pills at the you to mask the symptoms because they are intellectually lazy. I have neuropathy in my feet and ankles, sort of tingling and general lack of feeling and sensation. The first thing doctors ask me is, "Do you have diabetes?" I answer, "Aren't you suppose to be the one to tell me if I did have diabetes?" I don't have it, but it ticks them off when I ask them, because then we both know that they are too lazy to even give me a test to be sure. The next thing they do is say, "well we have pills for that!" I say, "So you want to mask the symptoms rather than finding out what causes it? I don't take pills" They are quick to bill for their services though! Guess I'm kind of a prickly, jaded type when it comes to dealing with these types, but I generally don't trust them.

Well, this is just great.

My various blood test results came back, but the CBC had no identifying information on it. Whatever is on that page, it unnerved my doctor, and he said to assume it wasn't mine. In fact, when we went to finally pick up the report just today, he apparently had removed it. Hopefully he didn't destroy it because I'd like to see it, but nevertheless, he's testing everything again, including more stuff.

The rest of the report? Normal, if you don't count the low anion gap. Getting a copy of said report? Furthest thing from it. The lovely staff at this hospital decided that leaving people on hold until the phone hangs up is deemed proper patient care. They refuse to give out last names, yet were reading my blood test results to my mother on the phone. Really? Also, if medical records can't find that CBC, whose report is it? And where is my bone age x-ray?

And that's not even mentioning the especially wonderful person who declared that she couldn't send the results to my doctor in case I was pregnant or had an STD.

Excuse me?

First off, I'm a minor and that doesn't apply. Second, who the hell mentioned a pregnancy or STD panel? I'm there because I'm short, not because I want to see if I'm carrying a new pre-person or microbes in the parts that I would rip out and throw at the next person to treat me differently just because they look at me and see girl. Besides, my mother took me to the appointment and IT'S GOING TO THE DOCTOR. Really, you're withholding patient information because you can't understand the difference between that and disease of the unmentionable parts? Perhaps a banana would be more suited to do your job.

And you know what? New rant.
I went to my orchestra today and was hanging with two other friends, a guy and a girl. Another guy walks in and hugs the girl, then me, despite the fact that I drew away from him before and have expressed a desire not to be hugged. I told him half-jokingly to hug the male friend, and he says, "But he's a guy," then "See, he gets it" when the guy in question agreed.
I get it. I just hate it with a burning passion. I go out of my way to prove that point, and have even referred to myself with male pronouns in front of them before. No one takes notice, and they think it's just okay to ignore my blatant dress, mannerisms, and spoken wishes. No.
And if one more person says something like "Hey, girl!" to me, I swear...
Then I have teachers who use "Ma'am" and "Sir" to address students, one of which seems to just throw them in there as many times as possible when talking to me, as if something ridiculous were going on, like him somehow knowing and doing it to annoy me. I know he wouldn't, but he never "ma'am" or "miss"s the girls in my class more than once. It is infuriatingly demeaning, my birth name is demeaning, my mother's reaction is demeaning, and the way my own physiology mocks me is maybe the most demeaning of all. Hearing female associations in reference to myself is driving me insane.

I'm afraid that if I don't come out soon, I'm going to snap at some random person and be labeled as a "psycho chick" for the rest of the time any of these people know me. OTOH, I have paranoia about someone somewhere somehow recognizing me once I transition and settle into the right camp. And you know what? I'm embarrassed. Not of being trans, but the fact that I have to be considered that while striving to be accepted as male. It angers me to no end that I couldn't have just been born and raised a boy.

Everything about the situation sucks, and neither of my parents wants to be bothered with caring about how I feel. My father is his usual absent self, and all my mother does is complain about how I'm stressing her. How I'm a freak. How I put this in MY head.
IT'S NOT IN MY HEAD. IT'S REALLY NOT. STOP IT ALREADY.
And for the love of everything, take one moment out of your busy, overemotional schedule to think about what this is doing to me. Seriously, would you like to be in a body that isn't you, Mom? Would you like to feel smoldering anger every time someone or something goes against who you are, intentional or otherwise? Would you like to harbor pure, distilled rage, and then be told by your mother that she's afraid of you and your behavior and wants to put you away or make you incompetent when you are of age so that the sentence you are serving turns to life with no parole, even when you haven't done anything to her?

Would you like to be that poor square-shaped block that a baby is incessantly trying to shove into the circular hole? Because I sure as hell hate it.

I honestly get the impression you are being patronised because of your age.

Now on this one I'm sorry, but the only thing you can reasonably do is live through it.

Think about it. If you object, if you get annoyed, whatever, you're in the wrong.

The trouble is, we tend to dismiss these frustrations as being born of your age and your changing this nonsense and so on. In reality, those frustrations are born out of real annoyances. What is lacking is any power you could have to do anything about it.