This topic is brought to you by the number 38, the letter A, and trepidation.
*Disclaimer – I will be using the term, “Boobs” a lot in this post. Not, “Breasts”, “Ta-Tas” or anything else more scientific or crass. Why, “Boobs”? Easy. My blog. My choice. You want a different term? Make your own blog.
Writing this post brings me equal parts embarrassment and pride. It is odd. I would like to think of myself as an expert on the subject of boobs. I am discovering this is not (yet) the case.
So, for the time being, these are my thoughts with the caveat: My thoughts will develop as my breasts, I mean boobs, do the same… I will also, try to limit the number of puns per paragraph (PPP).
Once, a woman told me, for no apparent reason, the physical things that reminded her she was female were, in this order, boobs, hips and vagina. That kind of blew my mind, I thought her vagina would top the list. Men always think about their junk, I thought women did too… but after pondering her comment, it made sense. Women are (usually) innies. We humans tend to notice the things that er… stick out. We notice the things that stick out without skeletal support even more, and the things that stick out, without skeletal support, that are also, extra sensitive, THEY take the crown. If men think with their penis, as many joke, then women think with their boobs.
I am learning this is very much the case, even though I am very much the same size and shape as I was when I began hormone replacement therapy (HRT).
I have mentioned in a previous post how estrogen (E) is much more subtle than testosterone (T). The lack of T was the first thing I noticed and quickly caused the first physical responses to my treatment. But, within the first week, E started to work on my body.
It is hard to say what impacts my brain more, the lack of T or the addition of E. It is far easier to say which causes physical responses.
After a few days, my headlights were ON… and I mean, like ALL the time, and I mean, it is not cold where I live, like, EVER… but when it is even slightly less than hot, the high beams are REALLY out. This has not changed since.
Breasts serve a fundamental purpose. They feed babies milk. Before you ask, yes, mine could also serve that purpose which is all kinds of weird, I know. They are outside the body to keep the milk cooler than 98.6 degrees (HOT 98.6 The Music of Yesteryear). They get cold before anything else because they are intended to be that way. Walk through a freezer section at a grocery store and count the women with their arms across their chest.
A quick thought about my man-nipples. They did not feel much more sensitive than my areolae, which is to say, hardly more sensitive than my chest, which was about as sensitive as any other non-erogenous part of my body.
A few days after the headlights turning on, my nipples became sensitive and this sensitivity has evolved since then. Sensitive is not exactly a good thing. If my nipples are not allowed to do what they want to do, they really hurt. Pulling on them… OW! Pushing them in… OW! Squeezing them… OW! This has had a profound impact on my spatial awareness. Unfortunately, not profound enough. I am still getting used to them being there. I have learned some things the hard way. Getting out of a car door that is too close to say, a wall, has redefined the meaning of pain. Reaching over a table to pick up something that fell? Wowzer owzer! Oh look, my cute little kitty cat wants to climb on my… WTF cat!?! Me OWWW!!!
The slight pain from say, pushing them in, is much like pushing a fresh bruise. It gets worse from there. I have heard many cis women say, “Getting hit in the chest is like getting hit in the balls!”. This is not exactly true. Getting hit in the balls is like eating a ghost pepper. It is a slow building, relentless pain which you may not even notice at first, but then it is all you feel, for an indeterminate amount of time and the pain will continue to build until it is done building. Nipple pain is like eating a habenjero. It hurts a lot, it hurts fast, and it will stop hurting when it feels like it. Both hurt a lot. Balls hurt more, but it is not a contest… ok, it is a contest. To be fair, it is a LOT easier to cause accidental nipple pain, so ladies, all is not lost.
Also, I really like spicy peppers, so pepper lovers, please take no offense to the above paragraph.
Where was I? Oh yes, boobs.
About a month or so after starting hormones, my chest started to change from man-pecs to woman-boobs. The first change was in sensitivity. Same texture. Same size. It was like the nerve endings in the flesh tripled overnight. Funny thing about that. Once they became sensitive, they started to feel HUGE. They weren’t. They just felt and continue to feel that way. The lightest brush of fabric, an accidental brush of my own arm, a change in wind direction is noticed not just by my nipples and areolae, but the chest flesh around them.
Suddenly, I couldn’t stop thinking about them. And calling them, “Breasts” seemed, well, premature so, I started calling them my, “Boobs” at least in my mind.
I always wondered what it would be like to have a pair. I admit, I kept wondering when something would happen, “Up there” when I started HRT, but the obsessive thoughts that I now am having are quite mundane. I just feel my boobs almost all the time now. Instead of, “When will they grow?” I am thinking, “Will they ever stop growing? What did I just sign up for? Hey! My eyes are up here! Am I poking through this shirt? Do I need a bra? So this is why schoolgirls hold their books like that. Let me just open this door – OW!!!”
As for bras, I now realize why there is such a thing as a training bra. Girls don’t need practice wearing a bra, they need ARMOR. Bra cups are headlight covers. A bra may be needed before support is needed. I do not wear one (often) (yet) but I am beginning to respect their utility. They also encourage nice posture. They are also uncomfortable enough to want to remove after a long day, while being kinda’ awesome at the same time.
As for my boobs, they are starting to take shape, they are starting to grow, they are starting to lose male firmness, they are starting to jiggle. This is something I have wanted to experience for a long time, and yet, it causes me some anxiety. They are a mark of my emerging femininity. They may become undeniable. They may be the first thing that causes me to male fail. In my mind, I am me, to others, depending on the occasion, I am either Tommy or Tori. I neither want to be that linebacker in a dress nor that guy with gazongas. Growing boobs… oy! I am remembering why puberty was awkward.
Anyhoo, sorry if this was another of my TMI posts. It was just something I had to get off my chest.