Most of my dysphoria is social rather than physical. Being seen as a chick when out in public makes me incredibly angry (and I'm not otherwise an aggro kind of dude). Logically I know that it's not their fault, they just don't know. But emotionally, when guys let me off the elevator before them (even when they're standing right up at the door and I'm standing in the back and "busying myself" by texting so that they hopefully just go), or when the women at work talk about girly stuff in front of me that they'd never discuss in front of our other male coworkers, and especially when guys change their tone of voice in the first few seconds of talking to me after they "realize"... those things all send me into a Yosemite-Sam-type temper tantrum. Of course, it's all bottled up inside, and on the outside the worst I'll do is roll my eyes or sigh (if I'm just not able to hold it all in), but on the inside I'm ripping heads off and defecating into hollowed skulls.... o.0 It really is that bad.
Also, because of that social aspect, my voice is probably my single most sore spot when it comes to things that I NEED to change RIGHT NOW. Although, I know I have to wait for T for other reasons, and I haven't been able to convince myself to try and train my voice lower, because (for me) it feels like deception and another layer of artifice that I just can't carry around on top of the rest (although I totally respect the choice of others to train their voice, and I wish I could emotionally bring myself to do it).
Physically, I hate red death with the fire of a thousand suns. The only time these days that I actually have images of harming my body is when that "gift" shows up. I quite clearly picture myself sticking a blade in my abdomen to kill the anomaly living within. I don't obviously, and I'm not actually in danger of doing so, it's just a mental image that flashes in my head, and then I go back to just grumpily "accepting" that it's back, AGAIN.
As for my body parts (as opposed to functions), I feel like I "miss" my penis (although I've never actually had one obviously). It's weird, it's as if my body feels like one is supposed to be there, and I have that "phantom limb" sensation that amputees report. It's not like "oh, I'd like to have *a* penis" it's like "I miss *my* penis, and I want it back". Again, kind of weird I guess since I've never actually had one, but such is life hey?
I don't particularly care for my moobs, and I feel so much more comfortable when they're bound as tightly and securely as possible, but that being said, I don't tend to "hate" them or get mad at their existence. It's just like "it'll be nice once these are gone and I don't have to bind to have my chest feel like my own" but it's not a wormhole to rage and insanity like the social aspects, the voice, and red death are.
