The first experience I had was in the third grade, and after that I began to assess every mannerism, tone of voice, way of sitting, standing, walking, running, everything I did, or didn't do, for any trace of femininity. I built a pretty excellent facade, one that even I believed for a very long time. The closest people to me throughout my life had never seen anything remotely feminine in me right up until I came out to them. It was my suit of armor, and it was exhausting and miserable.
I don't think I ever hated the feminine part of myself that I kept hidden, but I was scared of it even without fully knowing what it was. I think my male self is the only reason I'm still alive, but I hate the price I paid for that, and how much of my body is still his. One of the few things I have in common with my former male self is how much I enjoy destroying it.