![]() If I ever have top surgery, they’ll be more visible, more obvious. There’s a knot where my rib healed, badly, that will always be there. I walked around in pain for weeks, til the fracture healed on its own. I couldn’t bear the thought of unleashing my boobs. I knew if anyone found out how tightly I wrapped my chest, they’d stop me. I walked around with a broken rib for weeks, in intense pain, and I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t want anyone to intervene. I hoped, irrationally, that the pain was a result of my body reabsorbing my breasts. I kept wearing my make shift binder though. I just felt a sharp pain in my chest whenever I’d try to breathe in. I was thirteen the first time I broke a rib. I’m learning now that you shouldn’t ever wear a binder for more than eight hours, wear more than one bra/binder, or use ace bandages or tape. It leads to rib fractures and that risk is even worse when you’re a child. You aren’t supposed to bind the way I did. All my friends were excited about their breasts. I didn’t know anyone else felt the same way I did. I’d shower in the dark with my eyes closed crying. I would peel off the duct tape and the ace bandage at night, but I wouldn’t take the bras off. I’d wear three at a time, then wrap it all in an ace bandage so tight I could barely breathe, and then duct tape it all together. I started wearing multiple bras, all of them too tiny for my increasingly large bust. It became harder and harder to hide them. I knew that couldn’t happen, not really, but I hoped I was wrong.Īs I grew up, my breasts became more and more prominent. I spent an hour in the bathroom crying and frantically trying to tape them down, hoping that if I could keep them squished into submission, they would grow into a penis instead. I panicked when I first noticed them, and squished them down with my fingers. They started out as breasts do - tiny mosquito bites erupting from just behind my nipples. I had some in my distant family, but I didn’t really know. I didn’t have much in the way of language. I was 12 when my breasts started coming in. The first fracture, undiagnosed until years later, because I was so afraid people would find out. I felt for all the dips and the caves and what they meant. I’ve spent most of the day running my fingers along my misshapen rib cage. ![]() Today was my first full day since admitting I’m not cis. ![]()
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