Quote from: Elsa.G on June 10, 2012, 10:16:36 AM
apart from identifying gender, because we know gender and sex are different, but does your genetic sex stay on your mind? if you are not intersex that is

No.  Only when other people rub it in my face which they do at every opportunity.

Nope biology doesn't bend to our will so easily so I'm fine being a biological male. It's important not to lose track of that and at the end of the day I'm just a pretty male. I guess that makes mea bad ->-bleeped-<- lol.

Yes, I am bothered so much I hate my body and male parts. Hate the wide shoulders, thick chest, damn pecs and bullock neck. Absolutely detest down below and stupid body and facial hair. Bothered? I sure am.

QuoteDoes your genetic sex bother you?

Yes, but it is what it is.

Quote from: ShawnToShawn on June 11, 2012, 04:20:36 AM
Ok what exactly does this mean in a nutshell? Is that related to being Androgynous?

Genderqueer can have multiple definitions. Identifying as both male and female, or neither male nor female. I am both male and female. Many genderqueer people do decide to look androgynous, but I do not know yet exactly how I want to present myself in the future. Ultimately I want to be able to pass as both genders whenever I want, but my magic powers for that are very limited, so I have to deal with what i've got and let HRT work its magic.

Simply put, my genetic sex sux.
Really, it's the hair that bothers me the most. I shave my arms, legs, chest, face... It's time-consuming, and I keep cutting myself!
I'm relatively okay shaving my legs; it's not unusual in the least for girls to do that- same with armpits, and since I usually wear pants and a shirt, I'm not foced to see it that much. But when I do have to see it, like in the shower, it bothers me a lot.
I shave my arms every day so I can wear short sleeves (until I started shaving, I had to wear long sleeves, like a sweater, regardless of how hot it was), but I'll frequently find a patch of hair (usually on the knuckles or near the wrist) that I missed. Then I'll kick myself, but put it out of my mind and get on with my day. The fact that I can't get rid of my beard shadow (is that what it's called?) forces me to look away from any reflective surfaces unless I cover my face first.

I don't mind my genitals quite so much, partly because I don't spend a lot of time looking at them. Unless I'm in the shower, in which case I try not to look. In reality, I don't mind the penis- I don't like it, but it doesn't drive me mad the way my testicles do; I absolutely despise them, even just the word makes me cringe.

I'm boyish enough in nature that I don't mind being raised a boy the way some of you might, but do hate not being able to relate to girls biologically- whenever I hear an anecdote about a girl's period, I feel like I'm supposed to be able to relate, and it frustrates me that I can't.

Most days I can overlook my sex- I've spent my whole life trying to overlook my various physical defects- but I can usually put it out of my mind and just focus on how I feel- until I pass a mirror.

It's bothered me my entire life.  I will be 42 in September, and happy that at least I'm doing something about it (HRT).   Though I may never get SRS, I'm happy the the T-blockers at doing their job because it's much easier to tuck when I have to. 

As with most of us that developed fully male, I too am not happy with broad shoulders, big upper body, facial hair, and feet a size to large to easily find shoes.  But it could be worse.  I could've been dead had I decided to take the easy way out.  So now my life has purpose and I'm determined to make the changes needed to live my life as I please.

As a child my family were mostly doers and not thinkers.   My parents were masters of making unmemorable small talk.   My dad was friendly and outgoing and this made him an excellent car salesman.   The point, up until I was  thirteen and male hormones kicked in I didn't much think about rather I was male or female.  Mostly I was a tomboy from what I can figure now.  There were always just a few kids that lived around our house and the boys and girls played outside together.   Neither of my parents left there cloths laying around and my parent bed room was strictly off limits at all times.   I remember once finding a dress in our walk in closet which I tried on and really really liked it.   

When I was 13 in 1959 and male hormones started changing my life my father was in the hospital with cancer and would only come home to live for about a month before he died.   
This is when my body said male, but my heart said female.   But there was nothing I could do but try the guy thing.   In those days girls were not born with boys' bodies.   If you had a male body, you had to grow up to be a man.    Neither side of the male female line would accept you in small town rural Dakota,  unless you had exceptional circumstances and nobody that I was aware of did.   

It did not matter if I was a girl in a boy's body,  I felt that I had no choice but to go down that rode which did lead to marriage and children and eventually grand children.    What I could do was day dream and have fantasies about circumstances in which I magically morphed into a beautiful woman, but it didn't happen.    So I worked hard without any male feelings of accomplishment, worked in a female environment of teaching elementary school, changed diapers and bottle fed my children and raised five of them.    I washed the clothes so when my ex threw something out or filled the bag for the thrift shop I would gradually collect one or two dresses, pantyhose, and underwear.    I struggled on until my middle fifties when it all fell apart.   I didn't drink, cheat, wasn't abusive, or controlling but my ex wanted her own life and left with the 14 year old in a fit of anger. 

Michelle hatched from her shell of obscurity.    I wasn't out openly, just at home, but the male underwear were gone.   Everything that I feared would happen if,  Michelle would have come out of her shell was happening anyway.   After two years alone I found someone who would accept me at least as a cross dresser, even though I wasn't.   Neither one of us were doing well alone, but together we straightened out our lives. until four years ago when the job world disappeared and I reached the age I could get Social Security so I went 24/7/365.   

What could I loose now that I had not already lost.   But the sky didn't fall.   I wasn't stoned or bullied.   I go shopping for dresses with my spouse and the kids.   I regret not giving up my fears earlier.   I feel that the circle of life came around and I may well have ended up where I am now only younger when I had a full head of hair.  If I wear a pony tail the bald spots are faintly visible.   I am finding my self becoming more and more effeminate even with out hormones.    I am out to the world on Facebook and MySpace and my past students and friend have not run away.   I live thousands of miles from what's left of my birth family but they have seen me on Facebook.   My older children live on the west coast while I am on the east but they also see me on Facebook.  My two older sons may have problems with it, but they shut me out of their private lives back when my marriage broke up 13 years ago.

What I am trying to say in around about way is that some of our choices and decisions may not matter because in the end what we fear most happens for other reasons and we still end up dealing with our transitions.    But when we transition at a older age most of our past life and history is in another gender.   If we don't want to cut ourselves off from our past at the most we will always be transgender males or females and even if we are accepted as totally male or female by those around us, there will be reminders such as when a kid shows up and says, "Hi. Dad!"  Then those in the darkness about our pasts will be wondering how a woman fathered a son.   But that's life.