I don’t see her anymore

Last night, I saw my bare-chested reflection in the mirror and a thought shot through my head, of its own accord or as if it were someone else’s comment: “That’s a man”. 

In reality, it was more a feeling than words. 

But then explicit words out loud followed immediately: “I don’t see her anymore”. 

Before I started GAHT almost three years ago, they had warned me: “Take enough testosterone and you will, eventually, undoubtedly look like a guy”. 

Well, here I am: undoubtedly looking like a guy. 

But it’s one thing to “pass” in the outer world and another to look at one self in the mirror and not see “the previous self” anymore. 

The only traces of my being AFAB, at this point, are my genitals. And after the double procedure I had in December, even that is getting further and further from my perception: three “skipped periods” in a row have already led me to be almost completely detached and oblivious of my cycle. But it goes deeper than that, and last night it hit me more sharply than usual. Seeing myself in the mirror, I simply cannot fathom how I could have ever “been a girl”. It’s just so blatantly obvious that this is me: this guy is me. 

I am nonbinary and gender-expansive. I enjoy gender-bending (now that I look like a man). I am — have always been & will always be — a die-hard, convinced feminist. But I am a guy. 

Certainly the external validations or simply reactions from the outer world, from strangers as well as from friends and acquaintances, have played a huge role in this: being “sir’ed” and “he’ed” and “man’ed” everywhere with no hint of a doubt; walking into men’s bathrooms and changing-rooms without drawing any attention; receiving frequent comments/compliments from people of different genders and ages on my “jawline” (as one of my “very masculine” traits); knowing for a fact and having experienced first hand that gay men are physically & sexually attracted to me — all of this adds up and certainly has contributed to the way I feel with myself internally. And probably the keen feeling surfacing for me last night was connected to the validations I got after a nude modeling session and a fresh, very masculine, haircut. 

But it goes deeper than that. Something inside of me has shifted, or opened up. 

I am a guy. I am a nonbinary, gender-expansive, gender-bending, feminist man. 

I am no longer trying desperately to look like a guy or to be accepted/treated as if I were a man beyond or underneath or despite a female appearance. That female appearance that I learned to live with while always hating it to some degree is gone. 

That female appearance is gone. I’m free. 

She’ll always be part of me. There is a lot of “feminine” in me, there is a lot that goes beyond or between either gender.

But I don’t have to carry that skin as a burden anymore.