I’m a trans girl and I look the part, including androgynous facial structure, and boobs that are growing but not naturally huge.
Today, I underwent a diagnostic procedure called a colonoscopy, in which a doctor not-so-gently pushes a lubed tube up my butt and inflates my colon with air, and proceeds to analyze my insides to make sure I’m healthy. It’s something that folks are supposed to do when … how do I say this nicely … they can no longer be mistaken for teenagers.
The process might have been intimidating and embarrassing already but there were some additional factors too. The doctor is generally considered Mr. Handsome, and I can see why. Plus, he had a male student doctor along. Plus, they were discussing whatever they were seeing Plus, there were two other male medical people in the room too. Plus, I’d opted to not use anesthesia so I was well aware of everything. It’s probably good that I don’t embarrass easily — nowadays.
Somehow I took comfort in knowing that I’m in shape and that my body hair is long gone except for some very fine, blonde, sparse hairs on my legs and arms. Had that not been the case, I might have been less stalwart about everything.
After the procedure was complete, the doctor and female nurse informed me that I was, essentially, a model patient, and the diagnosis is: I’m healthy. Yay!
I used to be excruciatingly embarrassed about sneaking a peek at blonde hair-dye products in an otherwise-empty grocery store aisle — and today I was fine with having long blonde hair, boobs, and being in a room with several guys, with my naked butt being on camera.
I’ve come a long way in being happy with who I am, and today was a stark reminder.