I feel like I was well-prepared for the physical aspects, but I do wish I’d known how mentally taxing it would be. Even though I thought I was totally ready for it, and felt good immediately afterward, the intense mental anguish and confusion I experienced in the 6+ months after surgery purely because of my body’s visceral confusion at the abrupt, irreversible physical change is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

I remember almost having a panic attack the first time I was wearing a binder in a situation where I couldn’t just take it off, and it began to feel so suffocating. I made myself power through it, though, and eventually having the binder on was soothing rather than anxiety-inducing. I probably should have listened to those early warnings from my body and mind! I’m sorry for your experience with anxiety but glad you were able to avoid the risks that come with binding because of it.

I haven’t listened to the NPR story, but it’s interesting that the comments do overwhelmingly agree that it’s absurd for one group (trans folks) to “reclaim” the stories of another identity that isn’t theirs.

There are a few comments posting excerpts of some really bizarre and frankly misogynistic writing by the author they interviewed, too... crazy that NPR would center someone like her.

Another poster covered social aspects very well, but since you specifically mentioned medical transition, it’s definitely worth knowing and carefully considering the negative health impacts T can have. Vaginal atrophy is a common and painful problem many people experience within the first five years of HRT, and uterine fibroids may develop which may cause painful cramping even when you’ve stopped menstruating. Head hair loss is a very real possibility and despite what people say, it often seems to happen earlier with AFAB people on T than their AMAB counterparts. These are some of the major issues it can cause, but there are others, too; just make sure to be well-informed about what you may be signing up for. Of course, some people thrive on T and it may be right for you, but there are so many ways to express your inner self that you could try before taking medical measures. Haircuts, clothing, mannerisms, all are things you can experiment with if you haven’t already. You can project your masculine inner self into the world without necessarily transitioning.

I don’t regret it – if I could go back in time and do it over I might make a different choice, but I don’t regret it. I think feelings of regret were hardest to deal with when I was first coming to accept my femaleness again, to accept that I wasn’t going to pursue transitioning any further; at that point, having had my breasts removed felt like this huge insurmountable thing that would prevent me from ever feeling centered in femaleness again. It felt like I was always going to have to look at my chest and be reminded of how I’d fucked up and harmed myself.

But now I feel more settled and accepting of myself as a female person, and it doesn’t seem like such a big deal. Besides, there were reasons I wanted top surgery that weren’t related to identity, and I can still enjoy the advantages it brings. I’m more physically comfortable. And I can wear things I couldn’t or felt too self-conscious to before. I rocked a knit crop top the other day that I really couldn’t have worn when I had large breasts. I love sleeping and working out shirtless. My girlfriend says I’m the most attractive person in the world to her. So, you know... in the end, it’s all good. What’s done is done and I’m going to make the best of it.

I found myself cringing a little reading this, seeing the FTM subjects referred to as “women.” I guess I understand why they utilized the terminology that they did to differentiate the subjects as three distinct groups of “women,” but... I feel like trans-identified folks would be more likely to take this information seriously if it was presented in a way that was more respectful of their identity. I can see some people stopping reading just because of the way the subjects were referred to without even taking in the information. Idk.

I just want to add here that “I wouldn’t mind chronic pain” is surely something only someone who hasn’t experienced chronic pain would say… I’m fortunate to be in overall pretty good health myself but approaching 30 I already have more aches and bodily idiosyncrasies that I couldn’t have imagined the constant annoyance of when I was 22… a healthy and pain free body is a huge deal and it’s easy to take it lightly when you’re still super young and pain free

Yessss, She-ra! The incredible female representation in that show was honestly something that helped me reconcile with being female. It was the first piece of media in a long, long time, if not ever, that had me identifying with, and wanting to be, female characters, rather than male ones. We need more female and queer representation like She-ra in the world for sure

I definitely relate. I was obsessed with the aesthetic of some men, without actually being attracted to them. And I daydreamed for as long as I can remember about being my favorite male characters. A lot of current thinking in trans spaces would say that is a form of dysphoria, but I agree that it seems to be something else in itself.

My personal opinion – binding and/or top surgery are perfectly viable options for people whose dysphoria is severe and debilitating enough on its own to drastically reduce quality of life. My point was that binding is too readily encouraged, and its health and psychological risks downplayed a lot, for people whose dysphoria is relatively mild, or before exploring any other avenues of body acceptance and mental health treatment. I don’t mean to say binders should be “gatekept” or prescribed as treatment only for those who are suffering the most; I only think the culture and discussion around them should change to be much clearer about the magnitude of the risk involved, and who truly needs them and who doesn’t.