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Who do you see when you look into the mirror?
When I was a child I was fascinated with my own reflection and I would stare at it for long periods of time in the giant mirror that my grandparents had in the living room. My grandmother would yell at me to stop, but I don't remember why. Probably because it seemed narcissistic, but I'm not sure if that was the case.
I just could never really except that it MY face. I was looking at another person looking back at me. I made funny faces and he made them right back at me. (Alas, to this day I am the king/queen of funny faces.) Who was this boy in the mirror? Why did he look like me but was not me? (And me at the same time?)
When puberty hit my face betrayed me. Have you ever seen an acne ad where they show a person with the worst possible acne in the world? That was me. No exaggeration.
I'm not going to be a misery dick http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=misery%20dick right now and go into my teenage years but in the aftermath my face is a ruin of scars and craters. I hate my face. Where it once held fascination it now mocks me and yet when I encounter a mirror I still have a hard time looking away. Ok, I can't NOT look away.
“That can't be me,” I think. But yeah, that's my mug staring apologetically back at me, as if to say, “Sorry Bra, not my fault your hormones are all out of wack.”
I learned to live with my face as a man because men can have scared, craggy faces and still be excepted by society because that shit sometimes happens to “us”. When I came to grips with the fact that I'm (mostly) a woman trapped in this body that all changed.
I remember an incident that occurred shortly after I finally “came out” to myself and accepted the fact that I was bigender. It was probably a day or two after I had done so. I stepped out of the shower, looked in the mirror and saw someone else looking back at me. I was a woman in mind and spirit, but my reflection was that of a pasty white, overweight male slob with a ruined face. I threw up violently in the toilet for several minuets.
That was my first real taste of gender dysphoria, and it's something that I still struggle with every day.
Right then and there I changed the way that I live my life. I eat healthy and mostly vegetarian, I do moderate exercise for an hour a day, I went to the dermatologist and I'm on retain a which has thus far had a noticeable impact on my skin quality. Les and I have two grand saved up for either dermabasion or laser resurfacing for my face, which will hopefully either eliminate or greatly diminish my acne scaring and smooth out my complexion.
I still have “man fat” around my waist that makes me feel disgusted, but my body looks sooo much better than it used to. I've trimmed at LEAST 30 pounds of fat and I had to pull all my old pants out of storage. (Despite all the problems it's raised my wife says that realizing that I'm bigender was the best thing to ever happen to my health.)
But back to my face. While there used to only be one reflection now sometimes there are more. There's the “Ugly Reflection” where I see every issue with my face that I could probably imagine amplified by 100 times. Sadly, that's the one I see the most. Then there's “Guy Face”, with his strong jaw, steely eyes and serious expression. Then Androgynous Face, still masculine by birth but soft and feminine. I like that one.
But sometimes, I look at myself and I see a phantom face behind my own. That of the woman who I so often am inside. It's like I can't focus on her, but she's there, trying to manifest herself in my world. “I'm here!” She screams, like someone trapped on the other side of a mirror in a twilight episode. “See me!” (Don't you dare start singing The Who right now. Well, hell, let's at least sing it together. . . )
As I modify my body through surgical intervention and as I feminize myself with hormones will her reflection become clearer? And once I can look into the mirror and see her, will it finally be myself looking back at me? Or just another stranger?
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