Postcards from pu$$y and the things she wants

Can you believe that only 18% of transgender women go through with bottom surgery?  Today there is a “backlash” in the trans community, where some who have had bottom surgery are reclaiming the term “transsexual”, largely discredited for its negative associations with mental illness from the 1970’s.  Why?  To distinguish between those of us who have committed to this path and those who have not.

TBH, I don’t know how I feel about this.  My trans voice coach, who I regard as a beautiful woman and more “female” than me in that she passes naturally, whereas I never will with any amount of surgery, cautions against trans-medicalism—this idea that you are only trans if you take the medical path.  She is still “intact” below the belt.

I dated a trans woman briefly who was also intact.  She, too, was far more “female” than me in that you could never tell she was trans.  Unless she took her pants down.

Both of these two are single examples of the complexity of the issues at stake.  Both also consider themselves female.  Both have not had surgery for reasons of access, financial and doctor capacity…two issues which plague our community.

But of the 82% of trans women who have not had surgery, only half are “waiting”, in the sense that it is a question of money, timing, but not intent.  That still leaves roughly 40% of trans women who have no plans to have bottom surgery.

While I don’t judge their choice, as a “lesbian” or purely Sapphic-leaning person, it is the configuration of what is going on down there which matters. I don’t want to sleep with someone who has an “outie”.  At least not unless they are paying.  And then?  Bring it on.  F***k me, let me blow you, let’s play. Weirdly, however, a cis woman or a trans woman post SRS wearing a strap-on is something I find totally hot, and absolutely love to explore.

But with a woman, and I mean someone with an “innie”, there is something very different at play for me.  So, while I was profoundly attracted to, am attracted to, this woman I referred to above, or my voice coach, I wouldn’t want to sleep with either of them.  To some, this makes me a traitor to the trans cause.  But to me, what’s in your knickers matters.  And this is strange.

The presence of a kitty has altered my energy, has changed who I am…and I feel it, and I feel it with the women I love and lie with.   There is whimsy and safety in the arms of a woman with a kitty that I cannot find in the arms of someone who has an “outie”.  I don’t want to be little spoon to someone with a d**k.  And no, it isn’t the organ.  It is something energetic that comes with the existence of the organ.

Can I explain it?  You tell me.

When I put on a strap-on, I am filled with a sense of power, and playfulness.  I want to romp and play.  And yes, I love using it.  I love pegging men.  I love f**king women when wearing one, in any hole.  I spent so much time doing just that a few weeks ago that it took almost as long for my mons to recover.

What gives?  I didn’t love using the real thing.  I mean, it felt good.  Divine sometimes.  The physical sensations.  But there was also psychic disturbance for me.  And a woman who made me feel more of a man by the way her body responded, or the positions she wanted to be in, made it stronger.  And I didn’t like it.  

When I think back over the partners I had, only two or three didn’t make me feel this way—and it was because sex with them was primal, energetic, passionate, wild, not about male or female, positions, or anything else—it was an expression of deeply felt emotion and was just raw.  But that was so rare.

And so, yes, I did at times enjoy my male body, but it was mostly when I was not in my body in a concrete physical way, but was an energy being connected with another energy being, and my rational mind was gone, if just for a little while.

With a strap-on, I feel at play.  Like I want to crawl all over someone, slither into them, toy with them, nibble and bite, pull their hair, and get lost in soft and vibrant kisses.  I don’t need to think anymore.  And what I have found in conversation with some of my professional colleagues, the only people I get to talk with about stuff like this, wearing a strap-on feels empowering, and exciting.  And I totally feel that too.  Why do I feel that with a strap-on and never felt that with the real thing?

Well, I suppose I can answer that question even if it is beyond the scope of this post.  The answer is that the presence of the d**k for me was confirmation of maleness.  And that triggered self-hate, forms of guilt, shame for men, for being a man.  Whereas a strap-on is cos-play, dress up.

And philosophically that takes me full circle.  I couldn’t be trans if I were part of the 40% or so that don’t get bottom surgery.  Not for me.  I won’t gatekeep for those who don’t take the step, but I do understand the struggles that society is having with placing trans people.  Why it is so easy to stoke fear in women by noting that a trans woman with a d**k is still a man…and it is hard to disagree that the appendage is the most potent sign of masculinity.

So, when one of my tantric coaches said to me, I want you to walk into the room “pussy first”, or through life, considering the world from the perspective of my kitty, I can relate to that.  25% of those of us trans women who have bottom surgery end up having some form of revision.  Sadly, for many, there are too many doctors out there who do pretty poor work and prey on my sisters.  And bad outcomes can happen to even the best doctors.

My kitty is in a grey zone.  At least to me.  My doc is super happy.  All the people who look at the results when I share pictures of my kitty on trans sharing groups, speak of kitty envy.  And objectively speaking, I am very happy to be where I am.  I still haven’t orgasmed, and I have just passed the one-year mark, so I am contributing to the poor outcome statistics.  That said, I know it is in my head, and can feel that my nerves are still growing back.  My labia are still sore and painful in places, and my clitoris is profoundly sensitive, so much that I can’t get a vibrator anywhere too close as it just feels too much. But when I am super aroused, one of those vibrators called the. “womanizer” is the only thing that can get me close.  That is a very subtle, gentle sucking feeling which goes on right over the clitoris.

Okay, here goes.  I think my labia are too big.  I don’t like the look of them.  I see that they look a lot like the “fat labia” on the reddit forum of the same name, so that has its brand of fans.  I am not one of them.  So my revision will not deal with functional issues, but instead will be purely cosmetic.  I had a visit to a surgeon on my recent Thailand trip, and he makes very pretty kitties.

I met a super cute t-girl in the elevator in the hospital who was there for a revision herself, and to see her face light up when she saw me, and mine in return, should give you a sense of the instant bond which sometimes happens between us.  That seems to happen more and more as the world turns increasingly ugly to our kind.  As we locked arms and walked off for coffee within seconds of meeting the topic turned to surgeons.

She was amazed that I didn’t go with a particular surgeon who was on my short list, and with whom I was scheduled just two weeks after the surgeon I did go with, because the particular surgeon in question makes the “prettiest pussies in the world”, which is something this doctor is justly proud of…”porn-star pussies” in their own words.  I did like them, and it was close, and I would have done, had my own surgeon had to change my date for any reason.

But I went with my surgeon because I wanted a woman, I wanted a surgeon who has only ever worked on women, both natal and trans, and although both specialise in the type of operation I had, Peritoneal Pull-Through, and both only do bottom surgery rather than moonlighting on everything including face and boobs, and butts, she had no major negatives, and possibly the best track record in the world in terms of successful outcomes.  So I took the risk with aesthetics for improved functionality.

My Thai doctor didn’t like the look of it, and said he could “tighten it up” and make it look pretty in the way that I want.  My doctor also had the clitoral hood cover my clitoris, and it has “fused” which means you cannot retract it, so my clitoris shall forever remain hidden.  My doctor doesn’t want me to uncover it and the Thai doctor agreed: too risky and also it potentially becomes too sensitive and also too visible and exposed.

What else?  The inguinal opening—the ring which separates vulva from vaginal canal, in my case, has quite a bit of white scar tissue.  75% of the ring, in fact.  So this makes it hard and a little bit painful to be penetrated, and means that with dilation, it takes me a lot longer to dilate.  Once the dildo is inside me, it takes a long while to settle in.

For the rest, because I am athletic, my pelvic floor is also quite muscular, and it takes a long while for it to relax before I can go to full depth.

This presents some practical issues for me as an escort, as I need a good two hours to open myself up if I know I will be penetrated later.  So, dealing with these issues, and having a kitty that I want to lick and lust after too, is why I will be having a revision very soon.  Perhaps as early as June.

I will speak to a few more surgeons and then decide.  It is a short hospital stay, and I am likely to do it in Thailand, where they are great with aesthetics, and the operation is not so complicated…and there are plenty of things for me to do.  Plus, I love the hot weather and the fruit.

In one of the 20 or so letters I have had to produce along the way to access medical care, one of the doctors noted that my inability to wear a bikini and need to wear a bikini was one of the most profound motivators for letting me have a sex change.  She was right.

I can’t get tired of it.  I just spent a week on the beach at a very cis-het straight resort, and lived in a bikini.  And while I may be unmistakably male, I am also unmistakably female, and making sure anyone can see both, dictates how I dress.

Slinky, tight, clinging, young.  My puss is a big part of who I am.