Okay. for many many years I've wondered. Mostly about why I had some things that were obviously feminine. I have my Mum's feet (women's size 10 NARROW), several fingers are very feminine versus the fat man fingers, feminine brow ridge (almost none), feminine jaw, no Adam's apple at all, and a pelvis that made many a doc furrow his/her brow. Half is feminine with a larger opening and a hip socket in the appropriate location for a woman and the other half is masculine. Needless to say, I walk funny b most people's standards. But when Mickie walks, she struts! SO.....the news that has changed my life forever. I found a woman who had kept her mother's diary when she passed. She had been a nurse in the Nursery at the hospital where I was born. The hospital had burned down with all records destroyed in 1961, so my medical past literally went up in smoke and ash. But, bless this good woman, she kept good notes on we "special babies" that she cared for. I say special for a special reason. By her words, the hospital did not know what to call us, boy or girl. Now enter my earliest recollection, my first memory from about the time we all become self-aware. I was tightly wrapped around my little chest and I couldn't understand why. My hands were gloved and tied down. I hurt. Now today, or last week I should say, my suspicions were confirmed. My transitional physician confirmed that I had received some sort of surgical procedure that had removed glands from my chest. From the location, he concluded quickly that they had been breast buds. This is traumatic for me. I understand much now. why I never fit in with the other boys. I never was athletic in the male sense. But I could cook, keep house, care for others, it now makes sense. And it was why Dad never wanted anything to do with me. I was Mum and Grandmother's child to raise. Maybe today this is why I would make someone a very good wife. Can't be a biological mom, but I can love their children like no one but their bio-mom could. It's in me.
Whew. I made it with only stopping twice. Gets difficult to see the page when tears cover your eyes. Now, I have to adjust once more. And wonder if my friends will still accept me, me for who I was born. Start by saying the word that is racing through your brain. That's what I did. Let's say it together. Hermaphodite. Turned into a boy/man by some butcher with a God complex. Well, he got it all wrong, didn't he. Now you know what brought me to where I am today. Please, add your comments below. Friends or enemies, whichever you are, I welcome your company.
