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Update After 81 Days On Transgender Hormone Therapy

sophia hrtFinally, another post on the changes I’ve experienced while going through transgender hormone therapy, and about my transgender journey in general.

I have to admit, I’m embarrassed. I’m embarrassed that my transition has swallowed up so much of my life. I resist very much the people who think that trans is somehow who I am, who think that everything I do must revolve around being trans; and yet, I find myself leaning annoyingly close to that stereotype.

Since starting to transition, being trans has been one of the biggest things I’ve written about, even though I never envisioned this as a trans blog. I also talk about it a damn lot, care about it, think about it.

I resist this, I guess, both because I don’t like the stereotype, and because I really had a different vision for my life before transitioning. I had hoped that I could just quietly affirm myself as a woman and go back to living my life.

Of course, it didn’t happen that way. While the fact that I am a woman is objectively a small thing (billions of people are women and no-one ever comments on it), society makes it a big thing for me.

And so, in a way, it is a big thing. And while I resist that, I find myself being drawn inexorably into making being trans a big thing in my life.


Trans Issues Matter To Me

Trans issues matter to me. The trans cause matters to me. It matters to me when the press refer to Chelsea Manning as “he”. It matters to me when a friend of mine told me she had to wait through 9 years of psychiatric process to finally access hormones.

Once upon a time I thought I would choose my activism by what felt most important to me, but I never thought I’d be forced into activism. I felt like a cis straight white male superhero, flying down to save the oppressed classes but never being oppressed himself. I thought I’d fight for others; I never thought I’d have to fight for myself.

There’s less kudos in that, of course. I no longer look so selfless. But well, I wanted to get into activism, and here’s my goddamn opportunity.

I’ve actually been invited to two different conferences to give talks about trans issues, one of which I’ve already done. The next one, in November, will even be paid. It’s rather funny, in a way, that my speaking career may be kicked off by a cause I’ve been initially reluctant to get into.

But the talk I did go really well. People really thanked me for it, and I could see I was changing minds, making people think. And I think: this is a message that needs to be spread. Because so long as the public is willfully ignorant about trans* issues, more trans* people are going to suffer, live a half-life, and/or kill themselves. (Attempted suicide rate among trans* people nears 50%).

And you know what? I think I really do identify with being part of the trans community. Sure, I don’t reduce myself to nothing but a trans person as many people want to do for me. I don’t forget that I am amazing in many different ways apart from my trans-ness. But this fight is my fight. These people, are my people. I feel like I am a part of this.

So I want to let down my resistance to this, bit by bit, and perhaps let this unexpected twist in my life story carry me in new directions.

What Will Happen To This Blog

Now comes the question of what will happen to this blog.

Inadvertently, this blog has become kind of a “trans blog”. Which is not what I ever intended it to be.

I believe trans issues come under the heading of personal development and activism. So, well, they do deserve to be in a blog dedicated to personal development and activism.

But I don’t want to make this a niche blog dedicated to only the trans community. I want to reach more people than that.

Recently, I came to an idea which would help me feel like trans issues were more balanced as a part of a wider-scope blog. I would write occasional very long articles about trans-ness, and more, shorter, articles on everything else. This would help emphasise the fact that this is not only a trans issue blog, while still letting me express everything I want to. (And frankly, I have a need to get all these thoughts off my chest).

Or, perhaps I should just surrender myself to this being a different blog than I expected it to be? Lose some readers, perhaps, and gain some others?

I don’t know, but I know I still want to write about non-trans-related personal development and activism subjects, and you know, I really don’t mind the idea of showing the world that a trans person is useful for something else other than just being trans.

Possibly at some point I will make my another, trans-related blog/content site. But for now, I’m good like this.


Absolute Certainty

So, these are changes that have been going through my head since the last trans update. Interestingly, I think they might actually have something to do with hormones, because hormones gave me that absolute certainty I was trans, and that certainty in turn let me think more seriously about being an activist.

It has also let me think more seriously about the fact that this is who I am, who I will always be. I mean, I will always be a woman, and I will always be plagued by people singling me out in order to question the validity of my womanhood. I will always have to deal with discrimination.

Before Absolute Certainty in my trans-ness, I was somehow able to avoid thinking about or dealing with this harrowing prospect. Since the point of Absolute Certainty, though, I have had to begin to fit that into my mind.

Dealing with a loss of privilege is an interesting experience. When you’re privileged (and as white, middle class, apparently straight, apparently cis, apparently male, there wasn’t anyone much more privileged than me)  you don’t think about your privilege, or try to put yourself in the skin of the under-privileged. That would rather burst your comfortable bubble. You just somehow imagine that everyone out there has it as good as you.

And of course, if you lose privilege, you suddenly realise how all that was an illusion.

For me, this brought me down to Earth even more than I was before. Some of the things I wrote before about myself now seem a little shallow by comparison, a little frivolous. I’m becoming more “real”. It’s good, in a way, but a bit of a hard pill to swallow.

Depression

During this process of “coming down to Earth”, I underwent a little low dip.

Since Absolute Certainty, I’d suddenly started taking injustices against trans people a lot more personally. So articles on the internet about trans* oppression, and a book I read (Julia Serano’s “Whipping Girl“), struck me much harder than they would have done before. I started thinking about the high risk of rape if I were sent to a male prison (a risk I believe no one can completely dismiss, no matter how closely they abide by the law). Or getting shocked at the statistics for trans women getting denied healthcare because their carers were too bigoted to want to even touch them. (I still find this hard to get my head around).

Under the weight of all of this, I began sinking into a light depression.

As soon as I became aware of this trend, though, I decided I had to change something in what I was doing. So, I chose to stop reading so much about trans* oppression and change my focus. I wrote on Facebook:

I’m going to appreciate my friends who see me as I am, appreciate how society generally does let me do what I want, appreciate my own power to shape my destiny (which is very large), and downplay the ways in which I might seem oppressed/generally have it bad.

Although I didn’t entirely stop reading about trans* oppression, I cut down a lot, and in fact, my depression shifted pretty much as soon as I decided to shift my focus.

Later, I made a comment on someone’s blog, which helped me realise what I had been forgetting when I sank into depression:

Not sure if I identify with the birth defect idea. I mean, I get it, and I know my body is “wrong” and not my mind, if anything is wrong. But somehow I don’t like to look at things in those ways.

I don’t like to think that any part of me is “wrong”. Despite some dark times I’ve been through recently, I still would tell you that if I could have chosen to be born a cis woman, I would have said no. 

I don’t know many trans people who would say that. But I would. I like being trans. I like who it has made me. I like the process of discovering who I am, and the disproportionate joy I feel as I uncover myself layer by layer.

If being trans is too hard, it’s not the fault of being trans, it’s the fault of society. And I have never been one to let society bend me or alter me. Even if it’s hard for me, I still want to be trans*, so I can stand up for my rights and make a society a better place for those trans people who come after me.

*Still imagining I have a choice, here, I guess.

When I started on my transition, I had this viewpoint, and generally refused to read anything trans-related that was too depressing or pessimistic. Somewhere under all the pressure of what I was going through I forgot this viewpoint for a while, but now I remembered it and I still feel identified.

And remembering that I would actually choose to be trans if it were a choice, seems to make it so much easier to not feel victimised.

In my time, I’ve seen some happy, optimistic trans people, and some trans people who let the weight of their difficulties hang over them. I know I want to be one of the optimistic ones.


Breasts

On a more physical level, I’ve been unspeakably happy with my progress so far in my hormone transition.

Some weeks ago, I started to notice I was growing breasts. Very enthusiastically, I showed them to Anja, who couldn’t see any difference.

I kept up insisting I was growing breasts, though, and after a week they had grown further, enough that even Anja could admit their presence.

For a long time after that, I was spending quite a few minutes per day admiring myself in the mirror.

I wasn’t lusting over my new body parts, by the way, even though I am into girls. It just didn’t really occur to me (and still doesn’t, really). I was mainly beaming over how pretty and feminine my body was beginning to look.

Someone (male) on Facebook replied to my news by saying, “If I had breasts, I would never leave the house.”

This phrase seems kind of weird to me. After all, I’m bi, and I sometimes got sexual pleasure out of touching and looking at my body pre-transition. But of course I left the house.

I think there is something in male conditioning that kind of puts breasts on this pedestal. Sure, breasts are attractive. But I think male conditioning goes beyond that, and teaches us* to crave breasts.

*After some consideration I’m using “us” here as I am among those who were conditioned as male, even if I’m not male myself.

It’s interesting that now I have breasts, I find I crave or mysticise breasts less. I don’t think this is because I like breasts less; I think it’s because they are just longer this unknown quantity, this holy grail.

On a related note, I have found out that the idea of being in a woman’s shower no longer feels so weird or uncomfortable to me.

I mean, same-sex-attracted women can be in a woman’s shower and not be phased by it. So why are opposite-sex-attracted men brought up to fear (and possibly crave) the experience of being in a woman’s shower?

I think, again, it’s this thing about making the female body this unknown, this holy grail. Now that I am growingly the proud owner of a female body, I find that the idea of sharing a shower with other women would be less embarrassing or awkward than it might have been for me before.

Having The Choice To Be “Out” Or Not

Asides from my breasts, I’m also getting some more curves in my body. My body hair is growing slower, which has made it finally possible to shave it all, which in turn has made my body confidence go right up.

My face is also becoming a lot more feminine. In general, I’m bothered much less on the street. Despite my habit of rigidly staring into space somewhere where I won’t meet anyone’s gaze, I notice I tend to be looked at less. Yesterday a man even flirted with me. (It’s not like people never saw me as a woman before, but it seems to be happening much more consistently now).

A couple of weeks ago, a new friend I had made asked me an interesting question: “Are you ‘out’ to your roommate?”

Previously, the question of being out or not hadn’t really come up. My (new, temporary) roommate found out I was trans just from me being me. And yet, a week or so after meeting her, seemingly I had crossed a critical point, and now someone was expecting that I would have to tell people I was trans.

And another time, I casually referenced my trans status in a poly meetup and I saw out of the corner of my vision someone’s eyes popping out a little bit.

Street Harassment

Interestingly, this is combined with a few rather overt instances of street harassment which I experienced recently, all of which were in my neighborhood.

It’s my theory that these people must have seen me before (they seem to spend all their time hanging out on the street anyway) and, now that I am looking more like the woman I am, they feel threatened.

I had two separate instances of a particular group of young adults harrassing me. First, they called out to me, “Gay, gay gay!” and made grotesque imitations of my feminine mannerisms. (I had been speaking very animatedly to Anja as we passed, and waving my hands about a lot).

Then the second time I passed this group, they called out to me, “Boy! Hey boy! Hey, gay boy!”

I ignored them completely. It’s my usual coping method. And in this case, I felt there could be a risk of violence, so not engaging seemed safest.

Then a couple of days later a group of young boys who were playing football in pretty much the same place shouted after me, “Gay! Gay! Gay! Gay! Gay! Gay!”

I stared straight ahead and tried my best to act as if I hadn’t even noticed.

Due to the timing and location I’m guessing the group of young adults had talked with these boys and that’s why they joined in on harassing me.

Trans Misogyny

An observation I seem to be making is that people* tend to harass me most when I appear most feminine.

*By which I mean, men.

Those young adults harassed me when I was waving my hands about in a very feminine way. And the boys who harassed me later chose to do so on a day when I happened to be wearing lipstick.

And the time I had water thrown at me in a music festival, was also when I had decided to wear my full makeup, after a week of passing the same people by and getting only mild harassment.

It seems that these sorts of people not only have a problem with me being trans. Most of all, they seem to have a problem with my femininity.

Julia Serano explains this very well in her book, repeatedly mentioned here by now, “Whipping Girl“. A lot of the discrimination trans women receive can be more appropriately described as misogyny. I really recommend reading that book if you want to understand all this better. It really ties in trans issues with feminism and benefits both with the combination.

In The Mirror

But, I think I’m reaching the end of this sort of street harassment. My face is looking much more feminine. I think, unless I use my most male-sounding voice, I basically “pass”.

As nice as it is not to be bothered on the street all the time, I’m enjoying, too, this change for its own sake.

As I mentioned in my last article, I can finally look at myself more or less comfortably in the mirror.

A while back, about when my face was first changing, I had an odd experience; my eyes at one point very suddenly and unexpectedly came into focus as I was looking at my face. Yet, before then I hadn’t noticed that I was unfocusing my eyes every time I looked in the mirror.

Now I can often enjoy the experience of just looking at myself, and no longer feeling this huge resistance or having the sense that existence is somehow intolerable*.

*As I mentioned in my last post, this is not about wanting to die, but resisting existence itself. My post, What It Feels Like To Be Transgender, will give you a better understanding of what I’m talking about.

Getting Out More

And I’m more confident with my body now, more happy to share it with people. This has resulted in me going to a sex event for a first time, the likes of which I previously didn’t dare go to. As well as this, I’m getting a bit more bold about chatting up straight men on OKCupid.

In fact, I don’t know if it is related, but I seem to be finally getting out of the house and socialising a bit more. I think this has something to do with learning to respect my own need for safe spaces (something I couldn’t come to terms with until I reached Absolute Certainty and started finally process all the discrimination I was receiving). But surely, too, I’m more comfortable now that I look more like how I should look, and now that I know that if it comes to it, I can perform sexually more like I should be able to perform.

Bald Spot Growing Back

Another exciting benefit of hormones which I noticed just a couple of days ago is that my bald spots are growing back!

Followers of this blog might know what a big deal this is for me, as my fast advancing hair loss was a big motivator for me to try and get hormones as soon as possible.

I know not every trans woman gets her hair back, but I guess I’m lucky that what I lost, I lost during only the last two or so years, so I think it should still not be so hard to reverse it.

Now I have little fuzzy areas where my bald spots were, almost like the peach fuzz you get on a woman’s arm, except it’s getting longer than that by now. The hairs are still soft and pale, but I’m guessing they will get stronger with time.

And, well, that is pretty frikkin’ awesome!

Non-Physical Hormone Changes

Asides from the physical changes: I seem to be finding animals and children cuter, more endearing. In particular, there were some times where there were children making a lot of noise: I remembered that I used to find such noises grating, but somehow the same experience now seemed cute.

I’ve also noticed that I seem a bit more dependent on food now. Not that I need to eat more; I think I need to eat slightly less (and I think my appetite is lower as well). Rather, I notice that if I skip a meal, I pay for it much more in terms of discomfort, low energy, and mood dips.

I had heard of trans women needing less food after taking hormones, but this bit I hadn’t heard of from anyone. Well, I guess everyone’s different.

Apart from that I occasionally notice feeling more tired or low in energy than before. This is one thing that seems like it’s not so much of a boon, but then again, I would sacrifice MUCH more than this in order to keep taking hormones.

I am thinking, though, that perhaps what energy I have is a bit more sustainable; it seems to come out less in terms of intense bursts which are followed by lulls, but rather it’s more of a constant, slow burn. So perhaps once I get used to it, it will turn out to be a blessing in disguise.

And another, totally unexpected change I’ve experienced since starting hormones: people are better at guessing my age now.

Previously, they would usually think I was around 30 (I’m 23). But now, the several times I’ve recently asked people to guess my age, they were all much closer. 26 seemed to be the common guess.

I don’t know if the effect of hormones is just to make my face look younger, or if it’s something secondary: maybe I look less over-serious, have less of a “weight” hanging over me, and that makes me look more my age. Somehow, I think it’s the latter. Life seems less “heavy” than before.

I still feel old for my age, but maybe less so. I’m even thinking of trying short skirts and other so-called “fashionable” items XD

In Conclusion

So, in general, things are starting to really improve for me. A lot of the stress is dropping off my shoulders, from street harassment, from worries about whether I’ll ever pass, from the pain of gender dysphoria. It feels like life is getting a bit easier.

I still have a long way to go. Though, in a way, that even makes me happy! Because if I enjoy these changes so much after only 3 months, I can’t imagine how it will be after a year.

For now, I should work on my voice (a boring job but necessary) and in October, I will start getting my beard removed. Once those two things are done, I expect to be very much satisfied with my gender concordance. :)

 

Related

Transgender Euphoria

What It Feels Like To Be Transgender

Sexuality Changes With Transgender Hormone Therapy

Changes After Two Weeks Of Hormone Therapy

Starting Hormone Replacement Therapy For Transgenderism

{ 5 comments… add one }

  • Albalida August 25, 2013, 7:23 am

    Quotable from the Broadway (now movie) musical RENT, by a transwoman to a street harasser/heckler: “I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be, and more of a woman than you’ll ever get!

  • Sophia Gubb August 25, 2013, 9:05 am

    Hmm, I’m sure a trans woman didn’t write/wasn’t consulted in the writing of that musical, because I don’t think any trans woman would say that. Unless they had an in-between gender or something. I wouldn’t call myself “more of a man” than anyone, not even to insult him.

  • Betti August 25, 2013, 10:01 am

    At the beginning of transition trans* will take a real big role in your live. But with the years it will decrease again. I don’t think it will vanish at some point, but after some time, there will be other things in your live more important.

    The points with the kids and food I noticed too.
    What was also interesting for me, after some time shopping for (female) clothes and shoes was relay fun.

  • Phoenix September 2, 2013, 7:07 am

    I loved reading this, Sophia. Thank you so, so much.

  • Lisa Corbett March 14, 2017, 6:42 am

    I am transgender mtf pre-op and more than a little bit older than you. I am on testosterone blockers but because of my living situation I can not take estrogen. When in first came out I had girlfriends who had estrogen they no longer needed and they have them to me. I went from flat chested to having just a little less than “B” cup without my bra on and nice “B” cups with my my bra on. I also noticed that I was drawn to children and I began to babysit and that made me feel so much more feminine and I found myself with the tv on and all I did was watch the kids and not the tv. I had 4 kids a 6 month old a 2 year old and 2 4 year olds. The mother of the baby girl had to make sure I was ready. I learned to change diapers when I was 4 and my older sister (the only person to respect me as her little sister) gave me my first doll that drank her bottle and pottied and my sister taught me to change her. I also had to prove I could heat a bottle and I asked if she wanted me to use the microwave or the stove. She got the deer in the headlight look and asked me how do you heat it on the stove. So grabbed a pan out water in it and heated the bottle. She said that she never knew you could hear a bottle on the stove. That was proof I could be trusted. I had the most fun taking care of the wonderful children. I also agree that being a trans woman is special and we deserve to be treated like the women that we are inside. I also have never had any leg hair and my arm hair can barely be seen looking at closer than 3 inches. I also have the tiniest penis I have ever seen, it is less than half the size of a big lighter. If I was attracted to females their is no possible way to even get the tip in so thank god that I am trans and very attracted to men only. I feel lucky to be trans but wish one thing I have had dreams of getting pregnant and give birth. When woke up I became frantic trying to find my baby. I had that dream even more than the dream, more like a memory of my death from my previous life I know because it was a memory. And my car was shot at and I lost control and went over bridge into the water upside down and I was trapped and i drowned. I was in a 60 or 61 Lincoln. I was born in 1967 so the car was the right year and it was the 60s. I am deathly afraid of any bridge that has steel girders over the top of the bridge. I was 3 and I asked my sister to put a dress on me and then I picked out the highest heels I could see and i stepped in them. Then I did my girl walk into the living room and I said that I am a girl. I thought that they would help me but no. I was spanked and told to go change. I went back to My sister’s room crying. I told what happened and that I had to change. I don’t know where I got the idea but asked her to change me into her pretty pink dress. It was a change. After she put it on me we sat down and played with all of her dolls for about 3 hours. I fell asleep in the dress and I woke up in my bed still wearing the pink dress. I got in trouble after they discovered that I was awake another spanking and they said that I was not a girl and that I was not going to wear dresses. It became a where I put on dresses 5 or 6 times a day. The spankings stopped when it was obvious that I would not stop. Then my mom tried embarrassment. When people came over she would bring them to me and laughed at me and called me sissy boy. I was hurt but I did not equate their meaness as a way stop me from being the girl I knew i was. Then she tried even more embarrassment. She began to take me to stores in the dresses. I was just so happy to finally be allowed to wear dresses outside. One time she got pissed when a woman was playing with me and said what a lucky boy getting to wear such a beautiful dress is it His or does he go by her. My mom dragged me out to car and she slapped me for what just happened. I was so confused after she took me out and got mad at me because the nice lady liked my dress and said I was a lucky boy then asked if was being called a girl. I was happy about the good attention I received from a lady I never saw before. I had no idea why I was slapped and it was hard and she left marks where her fingers hit my face. I wish someone had seen it happen. She yelled at me the entire drive home. I was so confused I did not understand any of it. Now I know it was because I was an embarrassment to her for just being the girl I knew I was. I sincerely hope and pray that no other transgender kids get the punishment I got for wearing dresses. She began to check on often but she still found me in a dress 3 or more times a day. When my sister gave me my first baby doll My mom took it from even though I cryed and told her that she is my baby. She put it in my sister’s room and as soon as I could I ran and got her. If my sister was home as soon as mom left her room she brought her back to me and comforted me and told me how bad she felt for me getting punished so much. But worse was just a room away. And She grounded me I was not allowed to leave my room except When I had to eat. A week later and I even had to eat in my room. That went on for a long time. Then she asked I still wanted to wear dresses I was a kid and I was honest and said yes. I felt like this time she would let me but again no just more time alone because She forbade my sister from being in my room. I was bored forever. Then after i don’t know how long I was allowed to join the family again for a very short time. I put a dress on after only having boy clothes for so long. She caught me pretty quick and I was hit again and banished to my room for another long time. I was only 4 and locked up like a criminal. I think my dad was going to help me but i heard her telling at him telling him that she knew how to take care of me. Well I am now 49 and right now I am wearing my pencil skirt and a very cute top and bra stuffed and pantyhose and high heels with a 2 1/2 inch heel. I live with her because I am a disabled Air Force veteran and I don’t make enough to get my own place so no estrogen. I am at her house in Oregon and she went to Sacramento because her favorite child had bypass surgery. So I am free to be my true self while she is gone. She says that I am not feminine. However if I show the slightest feminine movements or actions she tells at me to be a man. So she threatens my to keep me how she wants me not what I want. I almost killed myself When we lived in California. I had more than I could take and I left in my car but she knew that I was in a bad way and called the cops. I was going to drive into a tree. Out of nowhere 5 sheriff’s and 6 chp cars where there. My tree was 50 feet straight ahead When I had cops everywhere and I was trapped. Another 10 – 15 seconds and you would not be reading this. I was ready to die to stop all her violence against the daughter she does not recognize as a girl. I told her that I was Lisa and She has never even said my name and it hurts. In school I was the boy who plays with dolls with the girls. I have been in one fight in school and she kicked my ass. I did all I knew I closed my eyes and slapped but she punched me 4 times. But she did not know that the girl a lot smaller than she was happened to be my best girlfriend and she kicked that girls add and said, “Lisa is my friend and if you touch her again it will be worse”. That was my outing but Susan was so mad she did not realize that she did that. I could never be mad at her. But all the boys started teasing me but Susan said, “I will hurt the next person to tease Lisa she is a girl and you boys better leave her alone”. I felt liberated since everyone now knew that in was a girl named Lisa. Until. It was second grade and the teacher felt that my should know she has a new daughter. When I got home was beat not hit beaten and she told me why she said how dare you embarrass me like that in front of the whole school. She could not let me go to school for a week so that no one would see all the bruses she gave me. But By chance she was shopping and Susan was worried about me and stopped by and she was pissed when she saw my face but then i lifted my shirt so she could see my back and i saw her cry because I had been beaten so bad. She went home and told her mom but it was the 70s and parents were not watched like they are now. I was so hurt I was not able to sleep on my back I had to bare the pain from sleeping on my stomach it was only half a bad as my back. Even when I went back to school i was not able to lean against the back of chair for 3 more days. Susan said that she wanted to hurt my my mom like she hurt me. I went to Susan’s house after my first day back at school her mom made me show her and told me if she ever did it again that I had to come tell her and she would protect me. She began to call me her daughter and she called me Lisa. My mom got again and was going to keep hitting me until I told her that her that Susan’s mom would help me and protect me from my bully my mom. I expect to be bullied and even to be neat up but I never knew that it would come from the person who was supposed to protect me and keep me from harm but she is who I needed protecting from. She told me that if I ever told anyone that she hit me that I would not be able to sit for a month and she meant it and I was so scared I did not sleep at home for 3 days I just laid on my to afraid that she would come on and beat my in my sleep. I slept at school but got on trouble until Susan took the teacher in the hall and told her what happened. The teacher realized her call to my mom was the cause of it. She took me in the hall and told me how sorry she was and if it happened again tell her as soon as possible and she gave me her home phone number in case of emergency. I was feeling like i was going to be ok. When I got home she hit as I tried to step into the house and I landed in the front yard and yelled at me to stop making a scene for the neighbors. I stood up and said that I was given the home phone number for my teacher just in case she beat me again and I was locked in my room and did not have any dinner for the next 3 days. Then she asked why I was telling lies that she beat me. I said it is to late for me to listen to your lies and that Susan stopped by while you were shopping but to afraid that someone would see what she did to me. I told her that Susan made me show her and she told her mom and the teacher and that they both saw her handy work and I said, “Bitch if you ever beat me again I would call my teacher as soon as I can. She searched me until she found the number and said, “try calling her without the number”. I calmly told her the number and she saw I had memorized it. She was so mad I was locked in my room again and I only got breakfast for the next 2 days and she left the house and me alone locked in my room and she had bars put on my windows two weeks earlier but my window was the only one with bars and a lock on the outside of my door but my best girlfriend Susan came to my window and I told her what was happening she brought me food and she told her mom who stood at our front door for 3 hours until my mom came home and she laid into my mom until my mom tried to punch her and then I learned that Susan had inherited from her mom and she gave my mom bruses just like she gave me. Then my stupid mom said she that she was going to call the cops and have her arrested and she said good because she had a few things to tell them herself like locking her daughter in room with a lock on the outside of the door and bars only on my room. Then my mom said that he is my son. She said you misunderstood I locking my daughter in her room and mom said that she never locked Susan in any room. She told my mom, “Lisa is is her daughter and when She is at my house she is always wearing dresses or skirts the entire time and I have given her some of some of Susan’s old dresses and I bought her 5 brand new dresses and Lisa was a very happy girl but since you won’t even acknowledge that her name is Lisa. Can you even use her name”. My mom started to say something but susan’s mom ordered my mom to bring me out front now or she would either kick the living shit out of her and get me herself or call the police and see what they think of a worthless pile of shit who thinks that she controls Lisa. My mom said that she did not want her son called Lisa again. She said if you opened your stupid eyes you would find a lovely daughter who loves pretty things and all things feminine. Then she told her that she would let Lisa stay at her house until she knew that I was safe Fed happy and without any bruses because Lisa doesn’t deserve to get beat she is a beautiful and when Lisa asked if would put make-up on her so she could see if she is beautiful and she is I have the pictures to prove it but she would wouldn’t ever get to see them because she don’t deserve to see them. Then she ordered my mom to bring Lisa to her now or she would get me herself. My mom was so pissed but she got me and took me the woman I really love like a real mom. My mom said, “I expect to see him tomorrow she just laughed at my mom and said you can see her tomorrow through my window. My mom demanded to know when her son would be home. She said you don’t have a son you have a beautiful daughter that you are forcing to try to make her be your son. You are more like her warden. She said, “When you can find a way to prove you will not hurt my daughter ever again. My mom was so mad first because she only called me Lisa and kept calling me her daughter. My mom yelled at me that I better stay home. I smiled and
    said I promise just as soon as the mother I love gets me there then my stupid mom again threatened to call the police again. Susan’s mom stepped into the house. My mom demanded to know why she stepped in her house. Susan’s mom said that she heard enough threats about the police and still no call so she said I am going to call them for her. Then my mom just take him and leave. She said I am going take HER to a safe place but you don’t have to bring her clothes she has told me that she wanted to wear her new dresses to school so everyone will see her in the pretty dresses she loves and don’t expect her anytime soon but if you think she has spent enough time at her house please feel free to send the police to her house and then gave her the address so the cops can find it so she can show them the pictures she took showing Lisa beaten like a wild dog. My mom said you are a liar you don’t have any pictures of bruses on him. She said just a second I brought 2 of 20 pictures of her just beaten. My mom said take his worthless ass away now. She said the only thing I see that is worthless is a bitch that tries to beat her daughter until she is forced to live as a boy and that will lead to my new daughter to commit suicide would that make you happy she would never be able to embarrass you anymore if she is dead. By the way you can visit her but only if you call her Lisa and use she and her as her pronouns. She is a very beautiful girl but if you go to her school I have already informed her teacher that I am taking her from you and if you think you are so smart the teacher said that that she would have you arrested on sight and don’t try to outsmart us I gave the teacher 10 pictures of Lisa plus the 18 I have at have at home and these two are for you can look at them and either relive the nightmare you put her through which is most likely but I hope you will realize the kind of nightmare it was for her. You dont know what it did to her. Did you know after beating her she was to afraid to sleep because all she could think was that were just waiting for her to fall asleep so you could come in and beat her more. Or that after the week you had to keep her home so no one would see your work hurting such a beautiful girl. Don’t worry that you will miss anything before I take her and Susan to school I will take a few pictures that Will show her in the dress she chooses to wear for her big day showing the world her true self and just to piss you off I am going to put make-up on both of my daughters. My mom told her to stop calling him your daughter and I forbid you to put a dress and make-up him. She laughed and said tomorrow at 9 am I will be hear with the pictures of her all pretty and happy. I know you see her as a very scared girl forced to be the boy that only you want a real mother doesn’t beat their daughter and force her to a boy when she doesn’t know what a boy would do but she is naturally feminine. My mom said, “he is always a boy at home. She said only because when she does the smallest feminine thing you tell at her telling her to be a boy. She is scared of you and that is why she calls me mom and she is so helpful doing dishes and cleaning up the house and she is learning to cook. The last time she was at home She cooked a spagetti dinner with no help at all and it was so good their was nothing left after everyone except Lisa had seconds she said you force her to have seconds of your cooking to make you feel like you make great food well let me tell you the truth Lisa snuck her seconds to my house to see if it is her that doesn’t like it or is it not good. I tried a bite but I had to spit it out and it was spagetti the same dish Lisa made and hers was twice as good as the shit you pass off as food. Prisoners eat better tasting food.

    This is just in the middle of second grade and to let you know I stayed with my good mom until after 3 rd grade but that only lasted for 2 days before she hit me because I wore dresses to school. I had to wait until I could get to the phone in private and called my good mom and she was there in 5 minutes and told and mom that this time would be longer I stayed until the start of 7 th grade this time she wanted to hit me I could see it in her eye and she threw all my dresses away but not where I could get them. Good mom said she would take care of me. She told bad mom to give her the money to replace Lisa’s dresses that she threw away bad mom was scared of good mom and gave her enough to buy twice as many dresses and good mom warned bad mom that she better not throw my dresses away again and do not try to stop Lisa from wearing her dresses. I knew good mom loves me and I went to my room and asked bad mom to help me pick out a pretty dress for me to wear tonight she said, “I will not help my son to pick out a dress and I don’t want to see you wearing a dress. Good mom said, “If you don’t help her pick out a dress and be supportive of her I will drag your worthless ass outside and kick your ass the exact same way that beat her and had to keep her home would that make you feel good. She did not answer until good mom grabbed her arm and told her you will give me the respect I deserve for protecting her from her piece of shit bully. Bad mom said what bully. And good mom said you are her bully stupid bitch now tell me thank you. She said it very rude until she was being dragged through the door and she said thank you and good mom said now look at your beautiful daughter and say “Lisa I am so sorry for being a stupid person and I Will let you wear any dress anytime. She just stood there and didn’t say a word again until she almost pull outside. The she finally called me Lisa and said it nice. Then good mom said, “Ok Lisa if you have any problems with her just call in front of her. Then she told bad mom if she tried to stop me from calling her she would be right here but she would not get a chance she said she would drag her outside and she would look like the pictures of me that she did. Bad mom said I Will not got him again. Good mom said that she misunderstood her you did say her right she yes but she was forced to call me her and she was forced to call me Lisa several times to help her learn to treat me like the girl that I am.

    My email addres if you would like to email me it is. I would love to hear from you. Sorry to go on so long but this is the first time that I have told this to anyone.

    nativewoman67@ yahoo.com

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