Breast reconstruction, analysis

So I've been looking more into breast reconstruction info and it has sparked a few more new thoughts and feels. It's interesting! So, first off, I've found more info about the "flap" method, meaning that when the surgeon takes tissue from another part of the body and makes boobs from that. Apparently you can be too thin for it! Well, I obviously can't say if I am too thin to be elegible for that method, but there might be a risk that I am. The most common donor site is stomach, and I'm just ALMOST certain I don't have enough flab there for two tits.

Another common donor site is butt/lovehandles. That I could more surely be elegible for cause I simply, factually, have more fat tissue there. However... apparently very few surgeons are skilled enough to use tissue from that particular donor site. Which means it's not likely gonna be an option for me in this tiny country I live in that only has like 3 surgeons per area of expertise. A third option for donor site is the back, or upper side of the back. Problem with that site however.... are that I'd still need to add implants as well, I have very little fat tissue on my back in general so might not work at all, and it might mess up my motor skills forever after. So I'd opt out of that one even if I'm elegible for it, cause not worth it.

However, let's just assume I'll be elegible for and can get both the flap method (stomach and, but not likely ass/hips) and the method of getting only implants... which one would I choose?

I think both methods have a lot of pros and cons and they pretty much weigh equally. It would depend on things that are only indivual for my specific body and my life. But let's have a closer look. Here are some of my questions/worries:

Implant method:
- Karate. Would it be safe to practice karate with implants? Would it be safe enough with saline instead of silicone, in case there is a considerable risk of rupture?
- Can my chest skin stretch enough, or evenly enough, considering amount of skin there and the stretch-ability of my top surgery scars?
- Would my nipples end up in a wonky place, as I wouldn't be able to relocate them again? Risk is they'd end up way too high up and possibly also too close together or too far apart.

Other things to consider:
- Quicker recovery, possibly fewer surgeries
- Would definitely keep my real nipples but they may end up in weird placement and not look good
- Boobs may look and feel not so natural

Flap method:
- What about my nipples? Could I keep my real ones or would I have to toss them for reconstructed ones? Cause I've heard nipples that have been relocated once CAN'T be relocated again, and a flap would cover that area, or my real nipples would end up above the flap but way too high up and it wouldn't be a good look at all. If I'd opt for reconstructed nipples I might end up with two small scars (additional ones) where they used to be, and then the new nipples would be a bit further down. Is what my vivid imagination is telling me.
- What about scarring and unevenness on the donor site?Especially if butt, I have a great butt and I'd be sad if it would lose shape, be scarred and look bad. But if stomach then I wouldn't worry about it. As long as it would heal well without complications, that kind of scar wouldn't bother me and the surface area would most likely end up being pretty evenly flat.

Other things to consider:
- Longer recover time, possibly more surgeries
- Might have to get nipples reconstructed which would likely look better but I might just miss them
- Boobs may look and feel more natural

Other questions I may have I think would apply to both and just in general. And my intent with this entry is to only analyse which method of reconstruction I'd wanna go for and why, not all of my thoughts/feels about reconstruction in general. I've seen more results and I will add a few to this blog entry cause I never got around to email you those. I tried to find pics of patients that look at least somewhat similar to me, but many are a lot older and fatter so erhm yeah... cause that does impact result a lot. A 64 year old black woman who's twice my size would obviously get a very, very different-looking pair of boobs from what I'd get, for example.

Let's talk about my nipples for a moment: I feel kinda "shrugs" about mine and I don't really feel all that emotionally attached to them. And here's their state: the little sensation I have left in them doesn't feel good at all but kinda painful and "icky" (I dunno how to describe it, but it's bad), sensation in them can never be regained anyhow, they're really just dried up scar tissue, the areolas are uneven in shape and size and are permanently discoloured, they don't at all look like they originally did, one is bigger and more oval than the other, the scar tissue around looks weird, they have uneven edges that look unnaturally "sharp" in contrast to the surrounding skin which bugs me. Objectively, they're trash, and I would not lose out on ditching them. But on the more subjective side, I might still be nostalgic about them, simply cause they're mine. Even though they don't feel or look like mine since my top surgery.

But if I'd get new ones reconstructed, there would be a lot of pros, such as:
- I could get them tattooed in an even and nice colour that's similar to how my original ones used to look before my top surgery (I'd likely go with a colour similar to my lips' natural shade or slightly darker, as reference).
- They'd be even in shape and could look more natural.
- I could choose their size too. And for both to be the same size.
- I could make them look quite similar to how they used to look, as I still have that old photo! (And fuck yeah, I'd show it to a surgeon!) But then they don't have to look all that similar, it could just be a reference.
- I would still have barely any sensation in them BUT the little sensation I'd have would not be painful/icky like it is now, which would be an improvement.
- They'd be made of actual skin, not just scar tissue, which means they'd be soft and nicely squishy. I miss having squishy, soft and grabbable nips. Although it wouldn't be "nipple skin" it would be better than the hard, rough scar tissue of my current situation.

Seeing that listed up and having felt things through as I wrote it... why the hell would I even want to keep my nips if getting a new pair would be better on literally ALL points?! Me and my god damned nostalgia!

By the way, a little while ago I found a lot of very good information about breast reconstruction from this channel's playlist on youtube, if a source may be of interest (I haven't watched all the vids yet though):
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLIpJ04u0nhs0ykHFwetCht4r3q-sKZvM7

Okay, let's see what kinda conclusion I can whip up then!
If I had all options available for me to choose from: I think I might prefer the flap method, actually, cause it does often look more natural and I've heard it also feels more natural, cause they'd be made of my own fat tissue. It would likely cover my top surgery scars with neater scars in slightly different places. And I think I might actually be fine with tossing my natural nipples for a new pair, I'd probably not even miss them. It would be very neat to not have to worry about implants bursting open or having to replace them after a decade or two. It would be boobs of my own natural tissues, just relocated, no plastic or saline, so I think I'd feel more "connected" to them as natural parts of me then. It would be safer for karate or any kind of physical activity. Once they're done and healed there's very little risk of needing any further surgery to fix them up. I only worry slightly about the donor sites, if I'd be elegible for it even, nipples and the recovery being hard on me. Cause going through skin grafting surgery ain't no fucking rosegarden! Or at least I think it might be harsh to go through.

About the implants method, I feel I get drawn towards it mostly because it seems to be quicker and easier and have a less demanding recovery time. For actual results and living with the boobs many years after, the flap method does seem a lot better. So I think I'd choose the flap method then, actually. Cause it just feels like the wiser, more logical and all around better option. If I could be elegible for it. If not I'd just ask the surgeon about the rupture risk with karate and have a discussion about my safety concerns with implants, and also discuss nipple placement, but I'd happily go with implants if that's the only option I'd be elegible for.

Either which way I'm sure I'll get good boobs that I will give lots of love and care, BUT if I had the free unlimited choice of just picking and choosing whichever method I personally want, I'd of course still bring up all of my questions and concerns to the surgeon, but then also most likely go with the flap method. Because it will depend a lot on what the surgeon says during a consultation. I know I can only do so much in terms of my own research, vivid imagination and creative guesstimations.

I know I said pretty much the opposite probably not even a month ago, but that's because I'm more informed now, and also not in an extremely overly dysphoric/griefy mood about my chest so I can analyse it a bit more logically now. So with the new information that I have about both methods, and my emotions being a little bit more in check, I now think the flap method would probably be better than implants but I still think they're both good methods and ultimately I'd be fine with either one. But also both methods have cons that concern me a little. The biggest reason I'd rather choose the flap method with what I know now, is that I'd rather ditch my nipples than risk getting implants busted at karate, or any other activity, and because flap boobs have more/better longevity in general and seem to be more natural in both feeling and looks.

Also the stomach flap method is called "DIEP flap". Was some really long, tongue-twister of a phrase those 4 letters are short for, that I can't remember anymore.

You probably never thought you'd ever hear me say this, but: I kinda wish I had a more flabby stomach! So I could use it for a donor site for new boobs. Should I pack on some weight before surgery? I'm serious. After a consultation, of course. I mean I could do that quite easily... and I think it would be worth it cause it seems I really wanna go with that flap method, but I'm unsure if I might be too thin for it. I'd of course be very, very careful to not trigger an eating disorder relapse, VERY careful. But because I actually love my body shape now and really don't mind having a Big Beautiful Butt, I don't think it actually would trigger a relapse. I wouldn't mind it getting bigger. The thought of that actually turns me on slightly..... And then after surgery my stomach would be flatter than it has ever been... since I was 16 or something. Also I actually didn't look bad at around 80kg weight. There might be one or two pics of me from that time, dated year 2012. I just thought that I looked bad with that weight at the time cause of the dysmorphia. It wasn't a big difference from my current weight, I think. I weigh around 65-67 kg now though so aiming at 70-75 would be more reasonable, in that case. And that would only be a very slight overweight.

Am I totally crazy for actually considering gaining weight for surgery, though?! Must mean I REALLY want those boobies, huh?

At this point my stomach is really hairy still, but it has reduced a lot already and I think there's quite a high chance it will be more or less just peach fuzz on it by the time I get to consultation and/or surgery. And if not, I could just get it lasered, cause I don't wanna keep my stomach hair either which way. It itches, looks bad and I've no idea what to do with it when I wanna shave my pussy but not wanting to bloody bother with the stomach hair. I'm keeping it now ONLY so that I can see it reduce. But again, I'd of course consult with the surgeon about that first before I'd actually start gaining weight on purpose. I have a little bit of pout on my stomach already, so I'm pretty sure some extra 5 or 10 kg would surely be enough. I'd be overweight then though, which might be of concern for surgery safety. But anyhow, it's just an idea!

But I think it would actually be totally worth it though. Growing some boob material!

I'd say that's a pretty good analysis and a pretty solid conclusion. However, do keep in mind that I may still change my mind again on details like nipples, risks/safety, scarring, etc. But this is where I stand with it right now. And I feel pretty good and hopeful about it.

So, I thought I'd add some pics to give you an idea of what reconstructed boobs can kinda look like on me, taken into consideration that I of course can't find anyone with a chest that looks exactly like mine.

Okay, so I selected 4 pics in total, all slightly different, in subtle but important ways. I tried to find ones with women who are of similar size, shape, skintone and age as me, which really wasn't easy, so you've gotta use your imagination a lot if you're trying to imagine them being me. Sidenote but, me showing these pics might actually give you an idea of what I think my own body type, shape and size looks like! I think especially the first and last pic are quite close. The middle two, not as much.

Anyhow, here we go:

1. This girl only got one boob and nipple (right side in pic) reconstructed with the flap method, which I think is good to show cause you can then see how similar the reconstructed boob looks to the natural one. The stomach scar is from where they took the tissue to create the breast, which just looks like a regular tummy-tuck scar. She's 36 so not very far from my age and I think her chest looks really awesome!

2. I chose this picture cause her scars are kinda similar to the ones I have, just a bit higher up and slightly different angle. Mine would be below the nipples and more straight across. That's both boobs reconstructed, with just implants, no grafting. Here you can also see what she looked liked before, and that there had been quite some time between mastectomy and reconstruction. Nipples are reconstructed too. It doesn't look as natural, but also likely cause she's very thin which makes the implants "pop out" a bit more, and she was perhaps not elegible for the flap method due to her thinness. Don't know her age but looks young enough, but I can't guess if she's 20 or 40 even... I still think these are good-looking boobs though and I'd be happy with that kind of result.

3. This woman's a little older at 41, a bit heavier than me and looks quite different from me in general, but I just think her boobs turned out so incredibly good and very natural-looking I just had to include this pic! If it wasn't for the scarring around the nipples I would not think twice about them being natural, including the nipples. Consider me impressed! Flap method, says website, but I honestly can't figure out how. Looks more like a breast reduction, but I know it's not. Donor site is stomach here as well. Honestly, I'd fucking kill to have boobs like these! (and also if I may be so rude to say, I actually think her reconstructed ones look much better than her original ones did.)

4. And then this last one I wanna show because this is implant only and it's her natural nipples. Not to be mean or anything... Her boobs look absolutely amazing! ...but her nipple placement worries me a little bit. Cause I think that would happen with my nipples too if I'll keep them and go with implants... that they'll just take off somewhere. Granted, this does not at all look bad and I even think the skew nipples look really cute on her, it's just that the asymmetry and them being so far apart would bother me if it was my chest. I think it looks like she just had an augmentation, and a good one at that. In my mind it doesn't look super natural, but very good nonetheless. She's 26, and more tan, but otherwise quite similar-looking to me, I think.

That's the end of the gallery. I hope blogger won't complain about me posting these pics here on my blog. My blog is "child banned" already so it should be fine that it's tits, but it's also not sexual at all, but for a VERY medical reason. I obviously don't own any rights to these pictures and just found them online, but the women are anonymous and I do post them with all good intentions and no body shaming. I'm even complimenting them. I really hope they are as happy with their chests as I would be if I looked like they do. Just as a disclaimer, I guess. Cause I think it can be important to show the one or two people who read my blog the reality of what I'm faced with. And what I mean when I say I think reconstructed breasts I've seen online look really good and I'd love to have that. I'm jealous! And I can't fucking wait for my own reconstruction to happen! So yeah, these pics are highly inspirational for me and I'm really grateful those women posted their pics online so that I could see them and be jealous as well as more informed of what kind of result I could be expecting and realistically hoping for.

The language of my body, spoken in tears

Oh. My. God. When I start an entry like that, you should know something very important and profound has happened! A great thing, absolutely amazing. And beautiful. I haven't felt this relaxed and at ease since... I literally can't remember. A decade ago? Two decades? My mother's womb? I don't know. It's a little hard to type cause my fingers feel like spaghetti. I'm THAT relaxed. It's so amazing. Okay, I'll tell you what happened!

I did the meditation thing to reach beyond my grief, to find what was hidden beyond it. Well... it did not quite go as I had expected. It took an entirely different route. There is nothing behind the grief. My mind tricked me! The wall of grief is not a door. There was no opening, nowhere to get in. However, it was the grief itself that I needed to reach.

I did all kinds of preparations to reach my inner child. I wrote a letter to her, in Swedish, even using my birth name. I went down to my storage room in the cellar and picked up plushies and clothes from my childhood, and piled it all up on my desk, along with a naked Barbie doll. The Barbie because... I was obsessed with their boobs as a kid and kept playing with them and had all sorts of games that involved the Barbie's tits. Everything from those violent games that involved cutting off their tits (in imagination, I didn't break the dolls) and having the Ken dolls eat the Barbie's (imaginary) boobs on a plate... to sexual games that mostly involved two Barbies being very cosy with each other's boobs and making out. I guess that was my idea of lesbian sex as a kid. I was most definitely OBSESSED with boobs long before I grew a pair myself. Also all the probably hundreds of drawings I made of women's bare chests, usually with ridiculously huge boobs that exceeded the size of the rest of the entire woman... by far. Guessing I always had a thing for big boobs, ahaha. It fascinated me so much, that kind of body part. And uhm yeah I was so fucking gay already back then! I think I was attracted to boobs, and female curves in general, already at like age 5 or something. That predates my attraction to anything or anyone male... by around 3 years. Interesting. So anyhow, I just thought that playing with that Barbie a bit now could maybe trigger something about boobs in me.

Well at first I put on my old nightie from my childhood, panties and black sweatpants. Then sat down by my computer, put on a playlist with songs I either remembered from my childhood or that just reminds me of it. Calm songs. And then I meditated a bit to get relaxed and try to get distracting thoughts out of my mind. I then played a little with the toys and the other clothes (a favourite shirt I had age 4 through 8) to try to reach my inner child but kinda felt like it wasn't working. I thought I was just being impatient so I relaxed some more and read that letter I had written to my inner child. Nothing. I was more confused than impatient at that point.

So I put the toys away and reached my hand under the nightie to touch my chest. It made me uncomfortable and it felt like I was tearing at something very painful within my chest. As if I had internal wounds that felt cold when I added pressure. Like putting ice against a bruise. Weird feeling, and most certainly psychological. So that triggered something and I grimased at how it made me feel but it wasn't quite enough. So I thought "fuck it" and took off the nightie...

I grabbed and stroke my chest in ways that reminded me of how flat it is, and forced myself to stare at it. It was desperate movement as if I was scratching at a door begging to be let inside. Until the door (figuratively) burst open. An extremely intense pain and sadness hit me HARD, so very hard... and I started to cry. I bent over my knee to hold my head with one hand and keep touching my chest with the other as I cried and cried and cried... It was that hulking, ugly kind of cry when you just can't hold yourself together at all and there's just tears and snot everywhere and you wrinkle up your face and make almost childlike noises. I started shaking and holding myself tighter.

I cried out "I miss my boobs, I miss them so much" over and over along with "I want them back, I want my boobs back". Then I cried out "What I have I done, what have I done" over and over. Other phrases that I blurped out after that were:
"I loved them so much, I really did, I loved them so much"
"They were mine, my boobs"
"They were so cute, my little boobies"
"They felt so good to touch and just hold in my hands and squeeze together"
"Why did I do it, why?"

Then I started talking in phrases directed to myself, while still crying hard:
"I promise I'll fix this, I'll fix it in any way I can"
"I know it can get better, cause I'll do anything I can to make it better"
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry"
"I failed you"
"I'll love the new boobs so much, they'll also be mine, my own boobs and I'll love them more than I ever could the old ones"
"It will get better, I know it will, I promise"

And then my cries started to lift and get lighter. When they had stopped I remained in my position for a moment, noticed I soaked my entire knee in snot and tears. I just breathed for a moment to collect myself before I slowly lift up my head and sat up straight again. I felt immensely cleansed, like I had just gotten out from a spa or something. I smiled and said "Thank you" to myself, for giving me that incredible release.

Then I put on my bra and regular clothes again, and felt so incredibly comforted by the breast forms on my chest. More right than ever. I made a cup of blue fruit tea and went out for a smoke to just wind down and soothe myself a little bit extra. According to the music playlist I had been listening to, I had been crying for around 10 minutes. I've cried like that before, last time was some 5 years ago, but I have never experienced such an intensely relieving and cleansed feeling afterwards before. I think I know why: for the first time I ever, I didn't feel like it was embarrassing or a sign of weakness to cry. And for the first time ever, I let myself feel all that pain I had bottled up for so long, and truly express it all, without judgement. It felt so natural, and I loved every tear, and every movement and sound I made, cause it was all genuine and I let myself cry genuinely and just let it all out.

And damn... I really feel like I did get it all out. Everything. Like it rinsed me clean. A million times cleaner than I've ever felt before. Like true, actual purity. Not the crap lie of "purity" that Christianity talks about. No, actual, natural purity. The purity of being true to yourself and loving your flaws, and caring for your pain. No blame, no shame. And I think I even also connected to... a feeling of innocence. Like I had done nothing wrong or it didn't matter if I had, cause I knew I can fix it somehow, I knew I can make it better.

In short, what I found was that my grief needed me to really know it. It needed for me to know its true depth and all the feelings captured within it. It needed to reassure me that yes... I truly need breast reconstruction surgery. I got and still get a very clear "signalling" feeling that that was the message. But oh my god, my mind is such a sassy bitch for having me so scared and worried about what it wanted to show me, and then it calms and soothes me like nothing ever has before and reassures me I was right about needing new boobs. My entire body needs new boobs. I could feel it how my shaking limbs somehow all gathered towards my chest as if every single cell within me tried to comfort my chest and rebuild it. It was a very strange and sad, but also very beautiful feeling. Like an entire city gathering to mourn one dead person cause that person had been much more loved than they ever thought they were in life. And it makes the bloody news how an entire city grieves. And watching that news clip sends shivers down your spine cause of all that collective grief but also all that collective love and care.

That's how it felt when I cried, like my entire body showed collective grief, love and care for my chest in a way I never could have expected and it sent shivers down my spine. And all those phrases I said were my truest, most genuine feelings and thoughts about my chest, that just fell out of my mouth. If I hadn't been so worried about disturbing the neighbours, I would have screamed too. Just screamed my pain out loud. But I didn't want to risk having the cops called on me again cause of the neighbours thinking I'm being murdered or something... so I held back that scream. For convenience's sake.

Do I know for sure now that I truly, most definitely want and need that surgery. Yes. YES. Fucking yes! There's no doubt about it. Literally my entire body cried out "need new boobs, can't manage without them" in a sobbing choir! I think the answer can't get much clearer than that!

Of course I will still keep my senses keen on any new signs, messages, thought, feelings or inklings I may get. All the way up to the point of surgery, I will listen to my body, all of it. Even if so my feet suddenly start having doubts about boob surgery! But unless I get any contradicting and/or doubtful anythings my senses can pick up on, I will get that surgery. Cause I just KNOW it's right. I feel it all the way into my soul now. Something that feels THIS very right for me simply won't be a mistake. I can't figure out a single reason why it could in any capacity be a mistake. No matter how hard or deep I dig for such a reason, there are none to be found.

But god damn... it was just such an incredible experience. And exactly what I needed. Oh fuck I've needed it since the beginning of July! I've begged for it, prayed for it, literally kneeled and pleaded for it to happen. "Release me, please" I kept begging and hoping. Guess I had to do it myself, like usually! But wow... that was truly beyond liberating. I'm gonna go eat soon, before I'll fall asleep. If I can manage to post this first. I'm gonna have to post it unedited, cause I struggle too much to keep my eyes open to be able to read. Literally. I hope you'll survive the typos.

Things restored imperfectly

You know what? If I won't like the scarring on my new boobs when I get them, I could get a tattoo. I've seen some really gorgeous, feminine, gothy chest tattoos that would be badass. Like those "under boob" ones that come up in a point between the boobs, and look like lace. I could get something like that but let it trail up on the boobs as well, towards the nipples. Cause I suspect most if not all of the scarring would end up on the lower halves of the boobs. But then also the scars might not even bother me.

I saw some short youtube vids about breast reconstruction and well... seems like the ones with skin grafts (if I would need to get that kind) take several stages to complete, and they're kinda like a phalloplasty, but for the chest. It would leave far less scarring on the donor site(s) though, and most likely that would be taken from the back, butt, thigh or stomach. The scars there would just be a line, so nothing like a phalloplasty donor site scar that look like burn wounds. I mean, if I'd need to go that route, I could try to opt for either thighs or butt (because it would be for making two boobs and not just one I'm guessing tissue would be taken from both sides of the body instead of just one side, as was shown in the videos) so I could get a butt lift included for free or slimmer thighs. That would be pretty neat.

I wonder what my situation with body hair will be like by that time though, cause I'd prefer not getting hairy boobs. But then on the other hand, my chest is already hairy so maybe it wouldn't be so big of a deal.

But I am still hoping it will be enough to just get implants. Like with expanders first or something. That would be amazing though, with expanders. Cause then it be like literally watching them grow! With growing pains included! Almost like a third puberty! I mean, if I count my male puberty as my second puberty. I think that would be a very... positively intense experience, as well as letting me get used to getting new boobs over time. So I'm hoping for that method to be a viable option for me.

My brain has been bothering me with images and sounds from a tv series. A character dying from breast cancer complications. I know I don't have that struggle, but the way her feelings about her post-op chest are portrayed, although they only sit around bleak in my memory now, resonate with that part of my heart that hurts when it gets triggered. And I was just writing and editing a longer text for tumblr when that character's entire death scene kept playing on a constant loop in my head... I'm restless, I can't focus. It hurts and I'm sad.

But well at least I did manage to sort out my feelings about getting breast reconstruction a bit more, and they solidified a more too. The key points are:

- That I actually want to be able to embrace my chest as it is now but feel too fucking ripped apart to manage it. Like it's not possible without boobs there.

- That it's not even a fight at all. It's more like I'm trying to comfort something inconsolable, and it's heartbreaking. Cause it's myself I'm trying to comfort, it's my own mental wounds I'm trying to kiss better, but they won't heal. So I'm not even fighting with myself on this at all. I'm not holding a battle axe against my feelings, I'm holding a first aid kit.

- Also about my feelings having changed: Cause as a guy it was hard for me to embrace my fem parts, and as a woman I struggle to accept my masc traits instead. And the irony is that it's still the same body and the same mind; just different perspectives, and a lot more knowledge about myself. I can't "go back" to feeling like I used to, cause I know too much now.

Like for example if there was a rumour going around about a hurricane approaching my village, but no one really knows for sure, I might think "it's probably not a real threat, maybe just a slight storm coming or something" so I'm not worried. But then a reliable news source confirms it with lots of info, then I'd likely get really fucking worried and panicky. Cause getting more knowledge changes perspectives. Same with my chest: before I thought it wasn'st such a big deal and like I could handle it cause I didn't know my true feelings about it or what it meant or even the real reason I had my top surgery. But now I know and literally it's like "I can't unsee this" and thus, it's affecting me a lot worse now in detransition.

- (about my what if's) But I don't think those are actual doubts. I think they're a mix of desperation in my grief of pleading for the dead to wake up again (as in not wanting to accept my harsh reality) - and my fear of ending up making a mistake again.

- I know I can't go back in time to undo top surgery, although that would have been practical. So I know I'll need to reconcile with that shard of my past whether I'll get the reconstruction or not. But I also feel like I can't even begin to reconcile with it without that reconstruction.

- It is to the point where I am dependent on my breast forms. I can't go around without them very long at all (only for showers and sleep). They're not enough but they're something, and that something I'm holding onto with a desperate grip for my dear life, and refusing to let go of.

- And I do feel certain that more surgery is what I need, already taking into consideration that I want to alter body as little as possible from here on to find my peace with it. But I also have to accept that sometimes some things hurt too much to embrace as they are, and then you need to take a different route to find that peace.

Like I can reconcile with pretty much all the permanent changes that the testo gave me, even the difficult ones, and I'm pretty sure I can find ways to be fine with them (without removing/fixing them) although it's difficult and may be a long process, I feel it is possible. But with my chest what I feel is so different it can't even be measured with the same scale, so I need to take a different approach.

And also this little kinda sidenote realisation:
- They're (the breast forms) like a child's comfort blanket. But then I always hold onto my comforts as though I'm still a child, scared of losing something I love, even if it's just been gone for 2 seconds. I panic, and it ramps up so quickly, as if the world is suddenly falling apart at my feet. I know that is probably very directly connected to my traumas, because it is a very old, and irrational, fear. It is most definitely a child's fear.

To wrap all that up:
By going for surgery I'm not trying to escape having to reconcile with and embrace my chest, but rather using the surgery as an aid to reach that goal. An aid that I need for that specific part of my body but not the rest of it. That I have to take a "part by part" approach and upon doing so I see that I need to work in different ways with my chest specifically, and then it hit me more firmly that getting the reconstruction is in fact something that I NEED to get but wish I didn't have to do. So it's a means of necessity to obtain the same goal as with the rest of my body, but just needs a bit more specialised care for me to get there with it.

I do definitely keep in my mind that surgery should be a last resort and not the first thing you go for. And it wasn't the first thing I reached for. Padded bras and shaving my chest was the first thing. Then taping a fake cleavage. Then trying to embrace it as it is. Then breast forms. Then trying to focus on the positive aspects of it. Then trying to ignore it and just letting it be there. All has failed or is too far from enough. My chest is like a wall of sadness that won't stop crying no matter what I try to comfort it with. And I know that what it says between snivels is that it needs new breasts to feel at home and comforted, and that nothing else could console it. I feel like a stressed out mother trying to comfort her constantly crying child, in all the ways she can possibly think of, but nothing is working. And the child's pain and sadness creeps into my soul, until eventually all I could do was just being there and whispering calmingly "I'm here, I'm here" and that's the state I've been stuck in for the last couple of months or so now.

And then hearing that I can get the reconstruction via the gender clinic lifted much of the weight that that sadness has brought. That too, was a form of confirmation that I truly need that surgery. The crying child finally responded and gave me a hug. Although it's still crying, it has hope now. And it's the only thing that's given it hope so far. To me that is a very important sign, that soft, careful hug I felt from within myself upon hearing I can get the surgery. I think that was my heart's way of telling me "yes, this is what I need".

I know I have to get that surgery, no matter how scary it is. No matter how much I'd rather there was a less invasive and less scary way to heal my wounds. I've tried everything I can think of, but to no avail. There might be a lot of things about the surgery that scares me, and also that little thought in the back of my mind that says "I never thought I'd ever want to get a breast reconstruction" as though it's the wildest and weirdest and most "not me" thought ever, even despite all that... I long for it. And the thought of having it done soothes me so much, like it makes my heart sigh of relief. And I feel like I'll love my new boobs no matter what, even if they're a scarred and uneven mess... cause I'll give them all the love that I never could give my original boobs.

But I also keep in mind that I might struggle at first. That I might feel unease at what they look like or their weight on my chest, and that they might bring me flashbacks to my past traumas. So I plan to be super self-caring and gentle with both my chest and my mind, and be super keen on giving myself time to adjust, and allowing myself to feel that unease. Not judge that feeling as "I made another mistake" at least not right away, cause that's not certain at all. And I think that's super important. And I'll most definitely try my absolute hardest to not force myself to love them or hurry that process up. If it needs time, so be it. I've got time. And if that becomes a very difficult struggle with little to no progress, then I'll look into what I could do about that. Like if I might need to seek a revision, or consult in some therapist about my trauma feelings, or even just go to a spa or something relaxing like that... or whatever might come in handy to help me cope better.

Cause I know I've always struggled to embrace or to not feel "iffy" about natural things that have been artificially made or things restored imperfectly. I'm pretty sure that comes from that teddy bear I had as a child that the family dog ate, that it created a kind of trauma and a phobia. And it just hits me now... that is exactly what I fear about my chest after reconstruction. Just thinking about that teddy I had as a child... and how horrible I felt about it after my father had fixed it for me. It looked WRONG and it made it crawl under my skin whenever I looked at it or tried to touch it. I felt so guilty that I couldn't love it. Eventually I had to stuff into a drawer or something where I could forget it ever even existed. But of course it doesn't work that way, because I always remembered it. And the phobia it caused always followed me. I wonder if I still have it somewhere. If I could find it....

Oh god I'm crying. This hit a particularly sore spot in me. And it's not just sore, it's really painful and bleeding. I doubt I still have that teddy and even if I don't... I'm gonna need to really deal with that phobia/trauma of mine, cause now it's about my body. I can't stuff my chest into a drawer and try to forget it ever existed. Fuck, it's gonna be sooo difficult. How could I have missed that piece? My body is gonna be that teddy... it already is but even more so after surgery, when it's been "restored imperfectly". Fuck.

I'll really try to find that teddy, as there's only one place it could possibly be, in my storage room. And if I'll find it... I'll bring it up into my apartment and have it in my bed at night and on my desk at day, and use it to deal with that phobia once and for all. If I can't find it, I'll just try my best to expose myself to other things that trigger that phobia, and kiss my fingers when I feel that creeped out tingly feeling in them after touching what triggered me. No matter how painful and how difficult, I need to work with this now. I can't ignore it anymore.

Well, at least there I found the explanation for another one of my "doubts"... but yikes, that's a painful splinter jammed into my heart. I've no idea how to yank it out. I can feel it's the source of a lot of pain. But yeah... I'm glad I found it.

I wish I had a better option than surgery, but I don't. This is my best option so I'm just gonna have to work with it as well as I can. And if that means going through another grieving process (cause of comparing my new boobs to my lost ones) so be it and I'll get through that too. No one grieves forever. No one grieves forever.

Before my top surgery, I wasn't aware of that I carried a trauma about my chest that showed itself as a form of gender dysphoria, so I took the wrong route in my attempt to heal my pain. Like taking the wrong medication for any illness you could have been misdiagnosed with. But now I know the truth behind that pain and also know how best to heal it, and even tried it out on other parts of my body with truly exceptionally amazing results. So the risks of me being wrong again now, I feel are extremely low.

And I feel all the more certain the more I'm looking into it, and the more I'm able to connect to my emotions again as my natural hormone levels restore within my body. I feel, more and more, like I can trust myself again. My gentle, yet brutally honest approach to my insecurities, worries, fears, desires, wishes and hopes, really does feel like a ride in the exact right direction. And I keep getting it confirmed that I'm not messing up at all this time. This time, I'm actually healing myself, not just thinking or assuming that I am.

I wonder if another reason for my insecurity could be that this "truth" I've discovered is essentially a self-diagnosis, and the "wrong" was an actual, medically made, (mis)diagnosis, as far as I know. Perhaps it will solidify my feelings and thoughts on this even further if the psychologist I'll see in Stockholm who's gonna re-evaluate my gender situation will confirm that I am in fact not a transsexual, do not have gender dysphoria and that I was in fact, really, truly, misdiagnosed. Cause I think so. Just getting that medically professional opinion that I'm not mistaken now instead of back then. And that I'm even sitting here and thinking that might be the case, I think says a lot about how much I really want to make sure this time. I got burned, really badly burned, by that mistake I made, and now I'm scared to go near that stove again.

But with all that said, I still feel on a very deep level that breast reconstruction surgery is what I truly want and need. I feel a lot of positivity and soothing calm around it. Like it is going to restore my body, as much as anything can. I do long for it, I yearn for it, and I can't stop thinking about how awesome it will be. But the actual completeness that I seek from myself, I will need to work on on a soul-level to find. Just having the surgery won't make me complete, it is merely a necessary tool to find that completeness. I will find it though, eventually.

This one thing also hit me recently:
Sometimes I hear trans people say that if someone has no doubts about going into surgery or taking hrt, then that's a red flag that something is wrong. During my entire transition, when I was in it, I felt like I had no doubts. Suddenly, I understand what they mean. It's not that I didn't have doubts, it's that I did but refused to acknowledge them and that's what led to this disaster. It has now taught me to always, always listen to my heart: it knows me better than my mind does, and it always wants what's best for me.

Just a sidenote to finish this entry with:
Having been on testosterone taught me the value of logic and keeping it cool in difficult situations. Going back to estrogen teaches me the value of emotions and allowing yourself to break down every once in a while. Both are just as important and valuable, and that also helps me become a little less sexist. I am loving women more and more, and I don't think as poorly of them anymore, by far, compared to just a month or two ago. As I also come to love myself and my own womanhood more and more.

I'm not nonbinary, although I'm glad I looked into it without judgement. Just that I feel so very connected to and uplifted by thinking of myself as a woman says really all I need to know about my gender. I'm proudly a woman and I revel in being one. I re-invented myself as my own kind of woman and that's very important for me. Thinking of myself as nonbinary would just be another escape from who I truly am.

Yes, I am strange, unconventional and androgynous, and sometimes I feel like a man, but so what? It doesn't make me less of a woman or not a woman. It just makes me a different kind of woman. Because the term "woman" has no limits. Limiting myself to that term is not actually a limit at all, but a world of possibilities and potential. And I know now that I can find and already have found, a hell of a lot of strength in that.

I don't think I can explain in words what being a woman means to me, but I feel it like a spark of warming and energising light within myself. It is a bright fire that needs no fuel to burn. All it needs is the space to exist.

The picture of my pain

It just struck me right now... that when I lived as a guy but was still pre-op chest wise, I never managed to imagine myself with a flat chest. Like when I tried to it just became the image of a blurry, nipple-less wall of skin with no details at all. Like a badly photoshopped photo. But now that I imagine my chest with new boobs, I can not only imagine a pair in what I think would be a reasonable density/firmness of silicone/saline implants, or a size I think I'd feel very comfy and pretty with, but also what my actual nipples could look like on them and even some random scarring under them. I do improvise with what sort of scarring I think I'd end up with though, and where my current scars could likely end up.

But not only that, I can also imagine what they could feel like in my hands, being squeezed around, their weight, and also that I think it would actually amuse me that they'd stand upright when I'd lying down on my back, which natural boobs don't do. I think I'd really love just playing with them on my own. Very carefully and gently at first, then more intensely as they'd heal from the surgery. And I think it would be very good to do that first before letting someone else touch them. To just familiarise myself with them, and see if I could figure out what sort of touch I may like or dislike, etc. Almost like masturbation! Actually, I'd definitely include boob touching into my masturbation routine then.

It's just not quite sexually satisfying for me to touch my breast forms while masturbating. Cause I just want to feel it but I don't and I can't, and that leaves me with an empty, hollow feeling. Like no matter how far I stretch my arm I simply cannot reach.

Okay I just spent an hour or so googling info and images of breast reconstruction surgery after mastectomy. I saw several pictures of women who got simply implants (and some also new nipples but that doesn't apply to me) and that was helpful for me to see where their mastectomy scars ended up. Somehow it wasn't quite what I had expected and this gives me more to think about. Also remembering that the location of my scars used to align with where my nipples formerly were. I think I would end up with one of two outcomes that I can't quite figure out which one:
1.) My nipples don't need to be relocated and end up at the peak of the boobs, then my mastectomy scars will run across the boobs but a couple cm under the nipples, visible from straight ahead but not centered on the middle.
2.) They will need to be relocated to end up at the peaks, then my mastectomy scars will run right across the boobs with the nipples at the centers of them, and the scars would be horizontal across the boobs when looking at them straight ahead.

Either way though, those mastectomy scars will also continue towards the sides under my arms. I wonder how or if they can be stretched. Because looking at the pictures online it seems those women's scars could and did stretch quite a lot. Length-wise, I mean. But also a little in width. I'd be fine with that, I guess.

As for reconstructed boobs in general, the ones with just implants put in look far better (in my opinion) than the ones made of tissue from other parts of the body. Those do look kinda... ugh I don't want to be mean, but... a little patchwork-like and awkward, to put it as kindly as I can. And that is quite off-putting for me, I have to admit. Cause if that turns out to be my only option... I'm seriously gonna have to think about it. It's pretty much for the same reason some phalloplasty dicks tend to look... kinda undesireable and not entirely dick-like. That those breasts then also, in very much the same way, also look kinda undesireable (to me) and not entirely breast-like. Like they look very obviously unnatural and hand-made.

I'm young, highly sexual, want to get new breasts to increase my confidence and reduce my intense dysphoric feelings... so if the only kinds of boobs I could get would be impeeding on my confidence and make me feel like I look like a creation of Frankenstein, especially with sex partners... my self-image would undoubtedly also suffer. Like if I would end up not wanting to take off my bra even after surgery... I wouldn't have improved my confidence much at all. So if at all possible, I definitely want to avoid having to add extra skin flaps from other parts of my body. But if I simply don't have enough skin on my chest to stretch for implants... I'm gonna have to consider getting such flaps, and really think that through.

Like would that be better than staying flat? Yeah... yeah it most likely would. Cause it's the flatness itself that bothers me the most, and not being able to show clevage with clothing, and that there's simply nothing there when I feel with my hands. So even if I could only get boobs that I'd not like the aesthetics of while bare, I'm pretty sure that the feeling of them simply being there, even if I'd always hide them in bras, would still be a lot better than how it is now. Although very far from ideal.

So, after only having thought about it for like 2 minutes... yeah, I most likely would do it even if that would be my only option to get new boobs. But I'd likely also struggle to love them. I'd like them and be happy to have them, and be relieved of much of dysphoria, but that alone is not love. An absense of feeling utterly horrible about my chest is not loving my chest. That is being okay, accepting, but not exactly extatic about it. If I'll end having to go that route, I'll likely beat myself up even more for having had that mastectomy to begin with. I think it would fill me with a very strong grief that my chest would simply never look good again, and being unable to do anything about it. And always feel broken. And that's a tragedy I'd rather not have to deal with.

Another detransitioner told me that he sees his transition surgery scars as "battle scars" and I like that sentiment. I don't know which surgeries he had, I only know that he had been on estrogen for 17 years, needs to take testosterone for his detransition and that he had some sort of gender transition surgery/-ies. I didn't want to be too prying and ask such a question. I know that can be very sensitive, but of course my mind wanders to exactly what sort of surgeries it might be that he wishes he hadn't done. But anyhow, what he said makes me want to refer to my mastectomy scars as battle scars too. It almost looks like someone tried to cut my heart out, or take the air out of my lungs, but I survived that, and the wounds healed.

And I'll always be scarred, one way or another. And scars themselves are not something I consider ugly or unsightly, or even necessarily undesireable. But sometimes they carry a lot of emotions with them, if they're reminders of a painful past, or decision. Like for every time someone who sees my self harm scars on my arms comments on them and tells me I shouldn't harm myself, that is a painful reminder that no matter how many years of not cutting myself, someone is always gonna come by and talk to me as if I was still actively creating more new wounds. It's been 3 years. Every self-inficted scar on my body is at least 3 years old. I've quit for good. But strangers don't see my past when they look at me, and they judge. And they don't trust me when I say I've quit. Having my past being interpreted as my present time, over and over again, is painful and frustrating.

And just as likely, I think people will continue to ask me about "my chest surgery" even decades from now. I know I have a picture of my pre-op chest somewhere. I've been wanting to look at it again, but also I worry that doing so would fill me with emotions too heavy to bear. So I keep postponing it. But I should, shouldn't I? I should, I know that I should. I want to, but fuck it hurts.

Fuuuck... they were beautiful. Such heavy grief hit me instantly, like a block of lead in my heart, weighing me down into my chair, as I look at that picture. That one and only picture ever taken of my bare pre-op chest. It doesn't show my face, but I know I was distressed when I took the photo. It was just a few days before the surgery. It's a little blurry but clear enough to see. They're small but not tiny, and not really saggy, still kinda round. And that's after 5 years of binding. I can't remember what they felt like. My mind has forgotten. But I want to leap into that picture and feel them again. At least for just one last, very loving goodbye. But I'll never feel them again. Oh fuck I really miss them now. Fuck, size doesn't matter now that I see what they actually looked like. I want them back. I want them back so bad...

Latent tears... Even in this moment I cannot cry, but my nose is running extra much as though I'm crying, and I can feel the pressure from within. Please, let me cry... I'm begging please... it's been 3 fucking months of needing to release tears but they just won't reach out. It has built up a pressure that is now literally causing me a headache and nausea. Or that's me being starved cause I haven't eaten today, I don't know, but this pressure of internal tears made it worse. I might need to puke soon, cause I'm not feeling too good.

If there was just one thing I could go back in time to undo, it would be that surgery. It's rare, very very rare, that I regret something so completely that I wish it entirely undone. I think this might even be the only such thing ever in my entire life. I just took a painkiller some 30 minutes ago but it's getting increasingly worse and my head literally feels several kg heavier. But this grief is nearly tearing me apart, it feels like something's shattering inside me. Like glass being crushed against my ribs. But I can't get my natural breasts back. The only thing I can do is to mourn them and the loss of them. And try my hardest to get reconstruction financially covered. And if not, beg my parents to pay for it with their retirement savings. I'll get it somehow, cause I can't continue like this forever.

Granted, it's only been 3 months and surgery is far away either way. I can't know what I'll feel in 1 or 2 years from now. Maybe most of my grieving process will be over by then, or maybe I'll cry all the way to the operation table. I suddenly feel a slight loss of control of my entire body. I can't feel it as much. My hands are slowly going numb. Am I passing out, or dissociating, or getting sick? Not that I care or even worry in the slightest, it's just a bit weird and makes writing difficult. Perhaps I'm just tired and exhausted. Or I'm coming down with a fever, or it's just my headache. Sometimes when it gets really bad, it causes nausea and loss of sensation in the rest of my body. I don't know why. I think it affects my blood flow somehow, or it's my blood flow that slows down which then in turn worsens my headache and causes nausea cause not enough blood in my brain. I've no fucking idea.

But it seems kinda likely that my blood flow has slowed down quite a lot right now, but it's happening very slowly so I don't crash quickly and I'm still conscious. Perhaps not for much longer. If my vision starts to blacken, I'm gonna lie down in my bed, cause no use trying to write at that point anyhow. I wonder if I can go out for a cigarette without crashing or if I'd just fall over halfway to my balcony. I kinda need a smoke but not sure if I can manage it physically.

It doesn't seem to be getting worse. Perhaps it is just psychological, or psychosomatic. It's hard to tell, but I seem to be getting better now, actually. My hands feel almost normal again and my head feels slightly lighter. Maybe the painkiller is working after all. Sometimes those fuckers just take half an eternity to do their damn thing. I should go to bed soon anyway. I'll post this as edited as I can manage. Mainly just tying up some loose ends. Maybe drinking som fluid replacement stuff can help a bit. Some electrolytes might be just what I'm lacking. I think I should be able to stand up and walk around by now. Just carefully. Yep, working, but my balance is fucked. Okay I got my cigarette and I didn't crash anywhere.

Yeah, I miss my boobs. More than I can even fathom it myself. Not having them anymore makes me feel like I have two holes in my chest. Like a porcelain doll that got stabbed twice. And the gaping abyss from inside the hollow doll that is staring back at me is dark, cold and heavier than a mountain. It is pain, concentrated and thick. And it's seeping out through the two holes, as though the doll is filled with fluid, and it seeps out like the tears I can't cry. And that is my mental image of exactly in what way I feel broken. Like that porcelain doll. That's the centre of my pain, just centimetres from my heart. Like someone smashed my ribs in where my boobs used to be, and I'm mentally bleeding from the impact that repeats over and over every day. And like I'm not just flat, but carved open and hollowed out. I made a terrible, utterly devastating, mistake. And I cannot call it anything other than a mistake. I betrayed myself, very very deeply. I do not know how, or even if, I can heal that mental wound.

13 months post op

I've never really talked about how I get more and more okay with my choice of operation technique on my chest. Like at first I was like "fuck I don't care about scars" and went ahead with the double incision even though I was offered the peri areolar technique if I wanted to do that one instead. I was also almost certain that with the size my chest was (about a B-cup) it would not turn out good.

Then after I had actually had the surgery I was almost regretting that choice of technique. I thought "fuck now I'm stuck with two obvious scars that screams how trans I am" and wished I had chosen the other method instead. When I first started thinking about top surgery I was certain I was gonna go with the peri areolar technique as I had a large A-cup and they were firm at that time.

But, after 5 years of binding and just time also probably being a factor in itself, they got a little saggy and they also got bigger from the birth control pills that I took when I was 18-19. And I started realising how hard it would be to get a good enough result from that method with what I had. It became more important that I got a nice, flat chest instead of a scar free chest. Now, I can never have my dream chest, completely scar free and masculine looking.

I do feel a bit sad and frustrated about that fact, but I also have more important things to whine about. My chest is very flat (although still a little tiny bulgy in the middle which I think is only something that I notice) my nipples look great and my scars are fading. I'm still not that fond of those scars but they bother me less and less. Cause maybe I don't care if people figure out that I'm trans because of them? It's better than some of the horrible results of peri areaolar that I have seen that I could have gotten instead.

And I do also go back to my old thoughts about the scars. I was scarred already. Thin white lines cover my entire body after years upon years of self harm. Even on my chest, because I hated my boobs so much. Those scars are still there, unevenly crossing my nipples and it does look a little weird. I do however like all my self harm scars, so why can't I like my surgical scars?

Maybe it just takes time, getting used to it, you know. I'm already far more used to how it looks now compared to right after the surgery. I never once regretted having my boobs removed, but it has been taking some getting used to. When I first saw the result in the shower at home, about a week post op, I nearly damn fainted.

Yeah... I'm a little weak at heart. And I've never had surgery before. I had tried to visualise what it could look like before I had that surgery, but it still couldn't prepare me for the actual result. And it was difficult getting used to being shirtless out in public last summer, the first summer post op. My scars glowed purple and I remember that I tried to cover them with make-up, haha.

It did give me a freeing sensation and that it was more than right, but it was like... I don't know how to explain it. Like I was doing something wrong by being shirtless outside when it was incredibly hot weather. I'm male, I'm not very overweight and I don't have boobs anymore. It shouldn't feel like I'm doing something wrong, but it does. I've been afraid to admit that.

It's a feeling I've been trying to shake off. Among my family my sister is the only one who's seen my new chest, last summer when we went swimming in the lake near my family's house. Or I swam and she read a book on the beach. I was wearing only swim shorts for the first time post op and it gave me that feeling, that I did something wrong, but it was also amazing.

I hope I will feel better this summer. I'm actually worried what my father would say if he saw me shirtless in public. And my mother too, for that matter. She's said that some men just aren't comfortable being topless and I don't know for sure, but I think she hinted at me to keep my shirts on.

And I think my father is either gonna be jealous that I can do it, but he's too uncomfortable being shirtless himself. Or he would react negatively because I know he still sees me as a girl. A bearded and flat chested girl with a deep voice who's name is John... well, I've never claimed to understand my father, but there is a Swedish saying about that it's hard to teach old dogs to sit.

Well, it's gonna happen sooner or later, when I'm hanging at my family's place a very hot summer's day. If it's just the 4 of us, why would it be embarrassing? But they're probably gonna ask if I do that out in the public too, to which I'd have to say yes. Somehow, their opinions colour mine. That it's wrong of me and I'm being an embarrassment.

I wish it wasn't so, I wish I could just be confident about it and comfortable with it. But I think, or hope, that I'll get more so in time. Maybe, just maybe, I can get into working out and becoming a little muscular, which could increase my confidence a notch or two.

But anyway, in my mind, I didn't really have to choose between two surgery techniques, I only had one option that would fit with how my body looked before the operation. And what I really have to come to terms with, is that the B-cups I had made that option, not me. I would not have had the patience to do several operations to get my chest even over time with the other method. I had waited for 5 years and 5 years too many to have my mastectomy, I had to go with the quick fix because I could not wait any longer.

My impatience was very valid and I don't regret having it done with the double incision technique. Anyway, I've been ranting this enough now, I think, and here's a few very delayed 1 year post op pictures which are actually taken today, 13 months post op. As you can see the scars are not that visible anymore, they slowly blend in with the colour of my skin. They are uneven because of how the stitches were placed. My areolae are still a little dark and my tattoo still looks awesome. I've had that one for 8 years in September.

As I've already posted an update on how my chest is doing one year post op I won't mention all that again now. No, this entry is mainly about why I ended up choosing that specific operation technique and how I feel about the result in general.

Not sure I should tell you this...

Transitioning from female to male, for me, it doesn't make me a happy person. But it saved my life. I don't know if I should see transsexualism as an illness, cause I doubt that's the right word for it, but transitioning, for me, is like a treatment for something that was/is wrong with me. Some scientists say that you get it because of something going wrong with your hormones before you're born, so I suppose that in one way or another it's at least biological.

I think it's funny though, that no one really knows why some people are transsexual. I mean, what makes it occur in the first place. I find that interesting. Like nature's little quirks without any reason or rhyme. It's sad though, cause I wish no one would have to be transsexual. Because it can be such an awful experience with dysphoria, society not accepting you, friends and family not accepting you, and it's so hard to just live with it. Because it is.

Now, I can only speak for myself and some of my friends who are in the same situation perhaps, but it is hard. It's hard to live with your own body that you can't even stand looking at half the time and when you finally have a good day then someone comes by and questions your gender and you're down to zero again. It's hard when no clothes fit you and if they do it brings out what you're trying to hide. It's hard feeling like a stranger in your own body.

I don't think I'm actually transsexual in the usual/conventional way, but all the more I just wanna be a regular guy. When I first came out and stopped pretending to be a girl, when I changed my name and pronouns, I took pride in being transgendered. I wanted the world to know my background and the journey that lied ahead of me. But now... I don't know, but I get more stealth every day. I don't wanna be seen as the "woman who became a man" because it hurts.

It hurts to be constantly reminded of what I'm trying to hide. I'm open here, because I need to vent and have a free zone or something, where I can just unleash everything (almost). I've been thinking a lot about it recently, again, me being trans and stuff. And what I should do about it. I'm thinking of undergoing SRS but I'm not sure. It's like... I don't know. I feel like I want it and need it even, but not sure if it's worth the risks. Cause there are always risks about surgery, whatever the kind, and well yeah, it's kind of a sensitive area. You really don't want it to get ruined.

Right now, my emotions and my reasoning clash, they don't fit. Reason whispers no, but emotion screams yes, so which one should I listen to? I've decided to give myself six months to think about it, dwell on it, ponder over it. Besides, I'm not allowed to do it until Rättsliga Rådet gives me their approval and legal gender change. So I'm thinking it will take some time for them to get their heads together and tell me that I'm cleared, and in the meantime I'm gonna think about it.

Then call my surgeon to ask a gazillion questions and learning more about the procedure before I reach my final decision. At least that's my plan. In the meantime, I'm weighing pros and cons and ask myself the same questions over and over until I know how to answer them with both reason and emotion on the same level.

I don't need to hurry it up though, damn I could ponder over it until I'm 90 years old if I want to, it's just that I don't want this hanging over me for 65 more years. If you know what I mean. My main question is: can I live with what I have, or do I need to be complete? Cause that's what it's mostly about, I just wanna be complete. And also I get dysphoria and shit regarding that too.

I don't know how much I wanna talk about this, but... I don't know, sexually it doesn't quite matter as much what I look like. Cause seriously, I'm basically asexual and it's always been hard for me to find pleasure in it. Don't know if it would make it better if I change how things look, could be better, could be worse, I have no idea. But I doubt it could get worse, to be honest, it can't get much worse. I seriously don't know what I like or don't like sexually, I have to re-explore when/if I get a new partner either way.

Dunno if that's the testosterone making things feel differently or if it's because I've never had the chance to actually explore. Cause honestly, most men, especially straight cismen, only want one thing when they're with a person equipped the way I am (and no I don't know how they could be with me and still consider themselves straight, it's not like I am or even look like a girl). There's just no arguing. If I don't like it that way, then I must not like sex at all, right? Well, maybe I fucking don't.

So anyway, what I'm trying to say is that if I choose to go through with SRS, I will have no idea if it could improve my already seriously shitty sex life. But at least then, I would be viewed as an actual guy and not a freak, sadly. NOT why I wanna do it though, cause those kind of people who view me as a freak are just not coming anyway near me and definitely not in under my clothes. Just making that clear. I would never do any kind of surgery to please anyone else but myself. That's just the way it is.

Every day I'm getting a little bit closer to a decision, a little closer to a "yes" and a little further from a "no". So who knows, maybe one day I'll be going in for surgery again. But I'll make damn sure I'm making the right choice before I do so.



*SRS = sexual reassignment surgery (the "sex change" operation, in case you didn't know about the acronym).

A good way to start

I'm a bit distracted. Get into imaginary conversations already though I just woke up. Have a sensation this will be a busy day. If my mind is so clear and intense already, I mean.

It looks warm and sunny outside, a nice day for a walk. For my daily walk. I start with a walk right after my morning coffee these days. Well, my mornings tend to happen at any time of the day. Morning for me is first two or so hours after I wake up; whether it's actually morning, noon or afternoon.

Getting dressed, start my computer, have a coffee and one or two cigarettes, then a fast and short walk around half the block. It's about three or four houses that I walk around and it takes a couple of minutes or so. I think it's effective cause it makes me wake up and stop yawning and stretching uncontrollably.

I have another appointment at the district health care centre May 7th and I need to tell them that this surgical tape is starting to irritate my skin. I've worn such tape every night and day for almost two months now and I think my skin needs to breathe.

I didn't think I'd say this, but I want my dead nipples to fall off now so it can heal faster so that I won't need to wear that tape over them all the time anymore. I want to be free of it, even if that means ugly scars. The scars aren't gonna be pretty anyway, so.

I remember that at the first meeting with the surgeon I was intended to have to begin with, in August, I said that I have no problem with getting more scars. Feels like I have to eat my words now...

Okay, just had my walk. It's even warmer than I thought it was, and my leather jacket was too warm. Used the five step stair up to my apartment floor as a little exercise as well. Walked them up and down a few times. Stairs are good.

Dreading that I have to start eating again when I want to start building muscles. I know you can't starve and expect muscle gain, I've seen and heard of what happens then. You just lose weight and it's restraining and not very rewarding the way you want it to be. If I was way thinner it would eat at my muscles instead of me gaining them, but since I still have a lot of fat to take of (I might not be fat, but my percent of body fat is quite high for a guy of my size) it will most likely just make me lose more of that. My BMI is at 22,7 so it's very much a normal weight for my height. (19-25 is that normal range).

Of course I wanna get thinner, but that is not the way to get toned, if you know what I mean. There's a difference in how to do it depending on what results you want to achieve. I'm not completely clueless. So I don't just have to change what I'm eating, I have to start eating something altogether. I'll look into that later.

Though since I do want to lose more weight I think I can with success make a gradation to eating more and exercise more over time. Start with condition work out while I'm still barely eating should make me lose weight fast, and then start eating more and more as I move on to more heavy exercise. Good deal? That way I won't shock my body into new routines either. At least that is my vague plan just so that I know where to start.

I kinda wanna start right away, but of course the gym is closed today. Tomorrow at 17:00, I'll be there! They're only open between 16:30 and 20:00 so I can't really go there earlier. I'm "solving" the locker room hassle by going there already changed and then I go home for the shower. It's only a ten minutes walk to there so it won't be a problem.

I want to have a hard time explaining why I look so fit to my surgeon at our follow up in the summer. Like he would explain that I wasn't supposed to start with that until later and I'll act like I don't understand why he would accuse me for doing that. I don't know, I could be wrong about that though. I'm just not gonna ask.

Hoping

I'm still bargaining. Still trying to understand why this happened. Why me? Okay that is a stupid question. But I just counted on it to go so well for some reason, cause you know I should have known better by now. Though I just somehow knew it was gonna take two operations. Maybe more now, I don't know. I don't know how this can be corrected. Maybe they can take skin from somewhere else and hope that will stick. Or I'll just have scars instead of nipples.

That chest piece tattoo I want suddenly seems more alluring to get. And maybe somehow expand it to cover the scars. I don't know. Maybe they won't turn out so bad? Yeah, keep hoping. I scar so easily and they show. Even though my skin is almost as pale as the healed scars, at least on my arms. But it's different kind of skin there. I don't know. I don't know anything as of now.

I'm trying not to think about it. Fill my head with world of warcraft and tumblr instead. But scrolling makes my head hurt more, so not so much tumblr then. Just gonna play some more and then go to bed. Wash my face, brush my hair (it's easy these days) and brush my teeth. Aiming for a shower tomorrow or the day after. Hopefully I can sleep well tonight too. Doesn't hurt to hope at least. For better days, I mean.

Denial and bargaining

Started a little with my coat/robe today, but my head is killing me so I couldn't continue. Took some measurements and cut out a large piece of fabric for the back part of it. I bought 4 metres of a lovely deep purple, velvet fabric. Fake of course, but very nice still in a thick, very smooth texture. Only a tailoring nerd like myself would find something to complain about it, if you catch my drift.

I still feel weird from yesterday and hesitating to take a shower, though I probably need one. Detached words from yesterday's conversations with the doctors and with my mother echo inside my head like little stones in an empty barrel. I can't understand. I knew my body reacts weird with healing, I knew it from all the piercings I've tried to have and I yet I went for the transplanted procedure.

I should have known, shouldn't I? Yet, there wasn't that much of other options, I knew that too. But couldn't I at least have thought about it? I mean I've had that surgery on my mind since I was 19 at least. Some time during those years from then on that thought should have popped up, shouldn't it?

I'm going through the five stages of grief and I'm currently shifting between denial, isolation and bargaining. Skipped anger though, or just haven't gotten there yet. Losing my tits was just getting rid of something that wasn't supposed to be there to begin with, like a tumour or something, but losing my nipples... well, that sort of feels like actually losing something. And I can't describe it, I'm not even sure if I want to.

So I'm trying to fill my head with nonsense instead. Something, anything, to keep my thoughts off that subject. But I feel so weak, physically, like as soon as I try to do something away from the computer I get tired so quickly and my head starts hurting more than I can handle. I can't focus on movies or books or embroidering right now. Can barely focus on WoW, barely on anything at all.

Bargain

A part of me now believes that I sold my soul to the devil for a nice body and luck in love. The down side would be that I will only live for a few more years, and then I will inevitably kill myself. I accepted that (though it took some time), but it wasn't until recently that I added one plus one, so to say.

Things have gone remarkably well lately, and always when I pray to Satan he fulfils my wishes. But to what price? That's why I didn't understand it before. When I signed that contract in my own blood, things started to change.

Have I not watched Ghost Rider?! Yes, I have and a gazillion other movies that depicts just how much of a bad idea it is to sign contracts with your own blood. Stupid fuck!

I don't know what will happen after I die because of this, but I think I only sold a part of my soul, not the entire kit. I don't even carry around all of my soul. Some of it is somewhere else, and incommunicado, you know.

I couldn't just let myself get ravaged by misery until I break and kill myself because my whole life just became a horrible mistake. I'd rather be satisfied for just two years and then kill myself because I know that my time is up. Leave this world feeling that at least I had something in the end. It's worth it, damn it's worth it.

I realise that for the bargain to work I still have to pray and work my ass off to achieve what I want for the rest of my life. Then what's the point? You might ask. The point is that I will be able to reach my goals without failing. It won't be and it isn't a fairytale magic thing. Satan can't make my scars after the surgery to heal miraculously over night, for example, but what he can do is to make sure that it heals well and without complications. (If that doesn't happen we're gonna have a little chat)

The bargain is about changing two major parts of my life for the better. The trans related stuff, and mostly my dysphoria. My body, in simplicity. Then it's also about my love, K, and my feelings for him. And that's why I still get depressions, nightmares, phobias, sleep- and eating problems and such. Cause that isn't a part of the bargain.

It is much, since my life literally depends on those two things. I can get by with bad habits (especially since I'm not gonna live so much longer) and most of my problems can be helped or fixed with medication and psychotherapy. But my dysphoria, and my fucked up heart... that I really needed some help with.

But of course this could all also be a delusion. It's not normal to believe that you sold your soul to the devil...

What's in my power

I think maybe it's a bit warmer today, cause I went outside wearing my leather coat with only a fish net shirt underneath on my upper body and it wasn't that cold at all. Well, it wasn't that warm and cosy either, but still. Just did it to take some photos. Needed some nice ones with my new haircut. Now everything smells like hairspray though... and I need to get some nice wax for my hair.

Think I'm gonna take the bandage off my horizontal scars soon, cause the wounds have closed up by now. So no need, I mean. I feel so damn restless today. like I wanna run around and exercise and stuff. It's like I actually want to go to the gym, not just thinking I need to. Spring, it does things to you.

Need to heal up for at least another month, possibly even two. I know of other transguys who started working out just a few weeks after their top surgery, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. The nice weather isn't helping.

My hands are shaking for no reason. It's annoying, almost dropping my cigarette in my lap. That's frigging dangerous. And I like my new pants. They're a little too short, but I've completely moved in to them. Black, tight, comfortable, and I look good in them. Well, as good as I can, that is. My major dysphoria is my ass and thighs now. My weight is still a problem, but I'd rather gain muscles now. Priorities. And I'm not fat, not even close, no matter how fat I think I am.

Though I know that I pass very well now, especially with the short hair and all, but I'm always a bit afraid that people would question my gender if they paid too much attention to my body. And I really want to work that ass off, kinda literally. Though I suppose I could do that, carefully, as long as I don't restrain my upper body too much in the process.

But the yeah, bulking up my upper body would be a compensation of sorts. Been on testosterone long enough for it to be fairly easy for me to gain muscles now, so that will hopefully not be a problem, as long as I'm patient enough.

Patience. Now that has started to become a problem as of lately. It's like I've been waiting and waiting and given things so much time it feels like I'm gonna grow grey hair at an early age. It's like all I have is time and I have nothing else to give and I'm getting tired of that. I wish I had some effort to give, or some sort of inner power. Cause I can't help but feeling powerless.

I'm betting with Anna now, which is perhaps kinda weird. About me getting a low level character in WoW to level 10 before I get tired of him. She's betting that I won't, and if she's right I'm gonna go and eat breakfast. If I'm right, I can starve a little longer. Cause we can't really bet on money or anything substantial like that. Took some time to figure something out that can actually be paid in reality. I bet you're all on her side on this, am I right?

That slow process

Okay, so a little update on my healing process. It's been three weeks (like already?) and there's been some slight changes. The scabs are falling off on my left side and it's a little bit icky so I'm a bit worried but it's probably nothing to worry about. I'm gonna (let my mother) contact the district health centre so hopefully I'll get an appointment this week.

The pain is hard to describe since I still take painkillers so I don't know what it would be like without them, but I do also take them less often. So I suppose it hurts less, or I've just become more sparing with them to avoid getting a habit and to make them last longer.

The pain itself is also hard to describe, I think it's internal rather than external, as it feels like it's spread underneath my skin somehow and not centred where the actual wounds are. In fact they feel kinda numb, even when I've been off painkillers for almost 48 hours when the pain is the most severe before I pop another one. By then it's really horrible, so yeah, kinda need the pills still.

So ehm, won't be taking more pictures until it looks a bit better. Though I think the wounds are healing up more, at least those horizontal ones. They have actually been healing up great from day one, so it's the nipples that I'm slightly worried about. Okay, maybe I'm not just slightly worried, but I've been dealing with weird wounds before and I've never had any problems with infections so far. Seem to be immune to them, maybe.

I recognise this from a wound I had a few years back and though it took a bit longer to heal up than my other wounds, it turned out great without any medical treatment or anything. Though that was a slightly smaller self harm wound made with a tad bit too dirty, erhm... equipments.

So anyway, it's not foreign to me, but as it is a new kinda situation in which I actually care about the outcome, it's a bit more important. Like before I was "oh, scars, I could always use a few more of those, and the bigger the better". Seriously, I was fanatic about getting more scarred. They call me screwed up for a reason, or two. But not with these scars. Sure I don't mind them, in fact they are the only scars I've actually really wanted ever. But I do want them to heal well and don't become too weird.

I'm still very careful with my movements, though something odd when I was asleep all of yesterday occurred. I kinda stretched my right arm up way above my head and woke up doing so, thinking "no, don't do that!" and then a moment later I did it again! Like what the fuck? Like some weird reflex. My body has a whole bunch of reflexes not mentioned in the usual dictionary. Like I stretch either my upper or lower body like suddenly for no good reason and I can't control it. Seriously, it's like a reversed spasm of sorts.

Before it was just weird, but now with the post op thingy, it's really annoying when that happens. Usually I can stop it from getting too wild, but not when I'm asleep. Cause yeah, it does that then too. Really don't know what's up with that. So if my body could like... behave, that would be good.

Though I'm not entirely worried about those little quirks I seem to possess, though they do in a way interfere with the healing process. I can't stop myself from moving around, naturally. Cause I do live alone (and no, I don't want the crew to baby sit me for three months just because I'm newly post op) and that does require me to take care of myself. I can't do that without moving, I can't really do anything without moving, obviously.

So what I mean is simply that it will just have to take it. The little damage it would do that I reach for the milk in my fridge which isn't even that high, or that I carry my garbage to the container which isn't even that heavy, and so on, won't interfere that much with the healing. At least that's my opinion since that hasn't been the problem so far. And as far as I'm concerned the most critical part is this, the first few weeks after the operation.

So movement is my last concern to be perfectly honest, at least as I'm as careful as I can possibly be without asking for assistance to scratch my own back. I don't scratch it by the way, so it was a bad example, but still.

A part of me still can't believe it's true, you know. Maybe my past summer of hallucinations and recurring delusions has made me question reality. Is it really fundamental, is this real or just me imagining it? Did I just post a picture of my boobs thinking I've had surgery but in fact I've just imagined it? Maybe it's not so strange, but I wonder for how long I will feel that way, or come to my senses when I realise if it is real or not. Weeks? Months? Years? God, I hope not years...

It's snowing outside, I didn't think it would do that anymore this season. Here on Gotland that is, it was over a month ago it last snowed and it's been clear for that long. Like really warm and springy, and then bam, more snow. Guess I'm done talking about my operation for now. And when I said "a little update" of course I meant a frigging wall of text...

Obsessing and some pictures

It's hard to drink coffee when your hands are shaking. Easy to spill. Just saying. Either I've had too much or too little. Sadly, or something, I think it's too little since this is my second cup today and I've been up since 15:00. Or it could be something else. Like my nerves for example. They get weirder whenever I think of things that are in some way upsetting, exciting or just makes me nervous for no apparent reason.

Took some pictures of my hair again. I'm thinking of making a collage of all the stages in the bleaching process. For documentation, and maybe it could be fun to look back at later in the future. The light in my bathroom sucks, but it's the best place to take pictures during the night. And since 90% of all the time I'm awake is during the dark hours, I don't have else of a choice. With the yellow light it tends to make me look a bit weird on the original pictures. So I do my best to edit them in a simple photo editing program online. Sometimes it's just not enough whatever I do, but it will have to do. Now taking that into consideration, this is basically how I look now:

The left picture gives more justice to the colour. Right, so my "fringe" has broken off a lot and is now hanging annoyingly in my face. It's very damaged right about everywhere so I have to pamper it as much as I can and wait for new and healthy hair to grow out. I keep it in a braid that I redo every day, to protect it. You see how thin the braid is? Yes, that's all what's left of my hair. Then I add conditioner to make it easier to brush and take vitamin supplements especially made for getting healthier hair.

I realise I'm quite a hair nerd, which is kinda fun. I'm not so much for having fake dreads anymore, but more so for different styles and colours. There is no perfect hairstyle for me, the only way I can achieve what is to me perfection is to constantly change it. I'm not saying every style is perfect, rather the opposite and both at the same time. Like a song. No single note is perfect, it is the change that makes it so good. But enough about my damn hair!

Then what should I write about? Hmm... the healing of my chest is going well, I think. The scabs around my nipples are falling off and leave a slightly gooish surface. Don't know if that's good or bad to be perfectly honest. I've regained a little sensation on the left side, so that's a good sign at least. If it gets worse or something I'll contact the district health care centre for a check up. Or I'm going there anyway after three weeks which is the 31st this month, and that's in just four days. So I think it can wait until then I mean. Okay, that's it for now.

Untangle the mess

I dreamt that my chest was healed tonight. Pretty sweet dream. Woke up in pain instead... like too much to handle, kinda pain. So one and a half day without painkillers was what I could muster. Think I'll be taking them anyway, but maybe once a day instead of twice. It doesn't bother me so much if it only hurts when I do something restraining. Then it's rather a good thing, keeps me from doing stuff that might compromise the healing. What does bother me is when it hurts when I'm just sitting still by my computer.

So, just threw in some bleach in my hair. Again. For the tenth and last time. Gonna bleach just down to my my neck and leave the rest of the hair as it is. It's too damaged, I can't do anything with it and it's just wasting good bleach. Then it will just have to be enough, whether it is or isn't. But I'll give the platinum blonde dye a go and see what result that will give me. (Found some in Visby yesterday.)

Then I'm done, unless it gets really screwed up and I'll have to correct it, that is. Which hopefully it won't. I think I know what I'm doing... Also gonna wait to sometime in April or May before I decide how I should cut it, because now it's not a question of if I need to cut it, but rather how, cause it needs to be done. I look like a troll.

There's a hairdresser in Hemse that my mother says is good. So I suppose I'll check it out. But I want to wait until it's warmer outside and preferably until I'm done bleaching and dyeing it as well. Then I'm gonna buy a buttload of silver toners to apply every now and then to keep the yellow streaks in check, if I need to. At least that's the plan so far.

It might not show much on pictures, but I can assure you, it's a mess. Besides, I look forward to getting a new haircut, something that I won't have to spend a fortune on to just keep it from falling off my head. Then maybe I could spend that money on something better, like a gym card or something.

Care and hair

Another sleepless night. Though I don't get them that often anymore. Maybe once a week. Lied in my bed after waking up from a dream around 4:00 this morning, weighing pros and cons of getting up versus staying in bed. With the score of 3 vs. 4 getting up won.

I had my first dream in which I was post op tonight. In the dream I was lurking around the house where I grew up and met the husband of the family living there now (I have no idea who lives there now, but I think it is a traditional family, or so I've heard). We decided to take a road trip in the area and talk about whatever related to the fact that we had both lived in the same house, and then we totally fucked in his car. And yeah, I was post op in that dream...

It's like whatever "state" I'm in, it is reflected in my nightly dreams with only a few exceptions. Whether I was living as a girl, stopped trying to be a girl, angsty pre-everything transsexual, on hormones and now after top surgery.

Quite a journey, eh? When I look back I think it's nice to see how far I've gotten, you know. Maybe you do the same, cause we all change, even if you don't go through a sex change. It could be positive I mean, to rather see the progress to the better, than to be ashamed of how you've lived your life "wrong" before. Cause maybe it was "right" back then? I mean, maybe that was the only thing close to right you could do with what you had in amounts of time, events, courage, money, age and wisdom. I wasn't ready to transition when I was 16, wasn't ready to take that battle, so I can honestly say that I did what I could about the situation that I was in.

I need to wash my hair, cause it's getting nasty again. Can't decide if I should shower again though, cause that would be hitting the cap of allowed number of showers in a week. I'm way too impatient for my own good. Just let it be, let it heal, let it take the time it needs... Cause there really isn't anything else that I can do. But I just wanna inspect and see how it looks right about every five minutes.

Wanna bleach my hair again. Carefully as hell though, of course. Not a single drop will be anywhere near my chest. I'm always wearing protective clothes and towels to avoid skin contact and to not freeze my ass off meanwhile, so it should work.

But if I'm gonna bleach it today or tomorrow or whenever I find a good product to use, I really have to wash my hair first. But I could do everything in the sink if necessary. It's harder to reach everywhere and half my bathroom becomes flooded though. Maybe I'll decide later on.