Thread by @d0ggender

I had my breasts removed when I was 17. I am now 21, and the regret and grief I feel about it is overwhelming.

…

Growing breasts is strange and uncomfortable. It felt weird to touch or look at them, and so I avoided it. My changing body felt like a problem, and so I dissociated from it to cope. I didn’t think it was possible to ever feel comfortable in my body again.

I was given puberty blockers at 14/15 to stop my breasts from developing any further before I started testosterone. My body was never allowed to finish its natural puberty and development. I never got the chance to accept or appreciate it.

I had never had sex or a relationship before I transitioned and underwent a mastectomy. I was struggling with both my body and my sexuality and was terrified of intimacy. The idea of sex scared me and I didn’t want it, despite not even actually understanding how it worked.

Now, when I have finally found some kind of acceptance of myself as a sexual being, I will never get to experience intimacy with my whole body. I will never know what it feels like to be touched without a mastectomy and altered genitals. I gave so much away by changing my body.

Sex is an important part of life, and allowing someone to permanently alter their body before they even understand that is theft.

Now that my body has been permanently masculinised, I feel less than female, so much so that it almost feels wrong to call myself a ‘woman’ or ‘lesbian’.

By transitioning, I drastically reduced the number of people who could possibly find me attractive, and that hurts. I also fear that, in a relationship, I will not be seen as a woman, or at least not completely.

It is difficult to trust others after all of this.

I hated my body before, but this is different. Transitioning only made my intense issues with body image worse. Even now, I am terrified of gaining any more weight because I already hate that my chest is flatter than my stomach and my body is disproportionate.

I will also never be able to breastfeed if I eventually do choose to have kids. I don’t think I want to, but also don’t know how much of that is now because I don’t have breasts.

When I was 16, I was sure I would never want to have my own children, but how can you know that as a mentally unstable teenager? I still don’t know.

My mastectomy affirmed my body dysmorphia… and then made it worse. I will never be whole again, and don’t know how to describe how hopeless that feels. It’s devastating, especially knowing it didn’t have to be like this.