Goddamn Freak Me

Last Friday I had my appointment with the only doctor who didn’t refuse my request for breast surgery right away. John and I had travelled there the day before and checked in to a nice hotel. I was nervous beyond words and I guess my sweet husband needed all his patience to cope with my jumpiness and anxiety. We tried a bit sightseeing, but I actually didn’t see much. In the evening, John invited me to a restaurant, but I wasn’t really hungry. The night was awful and the next morning was even worse. I was so nervous I started scratching myself and so he always took at least one of my hands in his, even during the ride to the doctor.

Well, to put a long story short: there is no way I’m going to have breast surgery in Germany. If I was a transgirl, there’d be no problem, especially when paying for it privately. But he said he would not perform such surgery on a male, due to what he called his professional ethics. Even when I started crying and John told him for how much time I have wanted boobs now, he said there is no way.

When we left, I just felt nothing. I mean, why didn’t he tell me beforehand? I could have saved time, money and nerves. But to be honest, what hurt most was that he denied to perform surgery. If I was a liar, I could have easily told him that sure I’m a transgirl blah blah blah, then he would have said yes. And it really pisses me off to think I should have told a lie.

In the car on the autobahn I just cried. John still held my hand and was very soft and cute with me all day and night, but I just felt like shit.

On Saturday I only felt numb. In the evening, John and I talked other options over. As I won’t take hormones for some reasons, it’s just the question where I can find some doctor to perform surgery on me. I think, after considering my options, there’s only one real chance, that is having surgery in Poland. Sure, they have exquisite surgeons in Thailand as well, but that’s quite a long way to see my doctor in case any problems occur.

So, my next step will be to look out for a Polish surgeon who is fricking willing to earn some money by performing surgery on me.

At the moment, I’m not feeling well at all. The conversation on Friday has not only destroyed my hopes, it also left me again with the feeling that I’m just a freak. Like, not even such a “freak transgurl”, but just a disgusting freak. He asked me why I as a sane (LOL) male being would want boobs while other men are eager to have them removed if they develop some. I honestly answered, because I don’t feel male all the time, yet I don’t feel female all the time, but being a part time female person has helped me so much to live out my feelings, get into contact with my true self and live a happier life. He acted like these reasons were just rubbish. For me, they are not.

Each time I look into the mirror and each time I stuff my bras with silicone tits, I feel incomplete. I honestly envy transgirls for the changes their bodies undergo on hormones. If I wanted to have my telephone number tattooed on my forehead or if I split my cock in two, nobody would care. At the moment I just feel crap. Maybe that’s part of this journey to try to become more like myself, but I hate every single minute of it. I hate asking myself again and again why on earth my father didn’t kill me after he was done with me to prevent me becoming such a damn freak.

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