You stare at yourself in the mirror. You frown at what you see, picking out every single flaw. The way you're body is curvy, the way fat protrudes from your chest in a way most straight men find attractive. You despise the way your face is rounded, the way your long hair lays on your body. You frown deeper, and begin the ritual of getting dressed. You put on too many sports bras, hoping to compress the fat muscles resting on your chest because you cannot afford a binder. Even if you could, it wouldn't be safe due to your parents. You dress in loose fitting clothes, hoping it covers up some of your curves, even if they aren't that visible in the first place. You pull your hair up, because you can't get it cut, and this is the closest you can get to having short hair. You put your glasses on, thankful that they are mens frames, according to the eyeglass place. You survey yourself in the mirror once more, and the frown lessens. This still isn't right, but it's as close as you'll get, and you know that. You want to get top surgery and testosterone, but you can't afford it. Besides, your parents would hate you if they knew that their 'daughter' wasn't female at all. You sigh, throwing your beat up converse on and heading out the door, wishing for a better time where you can be open.
This is what it's like having dysphoria, at least in my experience. I wrote this so people who have never experienced this will hopefully gain just a slight bit more understanding. I don't blame you, and I'm not angry, how could you know of something you've never experienced? I only have a problem once you tell me that dysphoria doesn't exist, that I'm not trans. I hope this has helped even the slightest bit
-Q
