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Loose human maker by  lllnanana

you ever take a uquiz and realize halfway through that you don’t respect the author and their opinion is useless to you

To me, "having made it" as a trans woman isn't passing.

It's about not needing to shave your legs anymore to feel feminine.

It's about not needing to wear makeup anymore to feel feminine.

It's about not worrying about every step or sound you make to make sure you seem feminine.

It's about trying to get your hair to look just right, and instead of thinking "RAAAH NOO!! I'll never pass like this everyone will think I'm a man!", you think "Bleh, bad hair day... Oh well"

It's about feeling feminine no matter what you do, no matter what others think. Especially that last part.

It's about knowing, accepting, deep down, that you are a woman, and nothing you do or don't do will change that fact.

That's when I know I made it.

Unfriendly reminder that while you're busy mourning the loss of your childs old gender, claiming you need to mourn the death of your son/daughter, there's a group of boys/girls/enbies scrambling to take your kid clothes shopping, snatching up the chance to take those "first" experiences from you forever. Your sons first fishing trip is gonna be with his best bros, your daughters first makeover is going to be with her girl friends, your kids first camping trip out as themselves is gonna be with the besties. Good luck getting those bonding experiences back. While you're busy trying to guilt-trip your kid with your weird manufactured parental trauma, there's a whole community ready to take your place as the better family.

Your loss, someone elses gain.

Honey and Sunny !

“what have you been doing over quarantine?”

well, uh…

Sometimes I think about her

whats cool about being trans is my parents are totally right. i did kill their beautiful son. im the thing that animates his corpse in an ever more convincing parody of a happy girl. i devoured him from the inside out and now there is nothing left of him and he is dead dead dead and there is only me, with my hollow eyes and dark eyeliner and long hair, and my big smile. my limp, effeminate gestures belie the marionetting of the boy they loved. my fagginess is his death. already his body becomes a fitter home for my parasitism in full; the tits, the hips, the thighs. sorry about your kid. thanks for the biomass <3

trans girls with hairy tummies are like if a living room fireplace glowing on a december night was a girl

I wake up with a start and stumble out of bed

Making my way to the bathroom, I hit my hip on the side of the doorway

My heart pounds, pushing the estrogen through my veins

I look in the mirror and see a tired girl with messy curls past her shoulders

Everything is as it should be

I forget what I dreamt about, and brush my teeth