Your first lines touch my heart so deeply. Often times when I reference my girl years, especially talking about childbirth and menopause - people around me are uncomfortable even folks who have known me both pre and post transition. Thank you for making it normal
Robin— you got me right there—“even where my skin changed neighborhoods.” The way you moved through girl and boy without asking for permission or clarity, just offering both, changed how I read every line after. I don’t have your story. I carry a different map, yet the body truths—those I know. Where presence lands in the smallest, most unexpected places. Where a breeze knows more than any mirror ever did. Touch, exactly like that. Thank you.
That was so sweet and tender to yourself. Even as a cis/boy/man I remember similar feelings through adolescence - mowing my naked chest to tease it into growing hair, curious why my nipples were so tenderly erotic (still are! delightfully so), wondering about the deliciousness of other boys but the just 'strangeness' of girls. Knowing I wasn't "normal" but didn't even have a clue what "normal" was. Oneself just out of reach.
Your first lines touch my heart so deeply. Often times when I reference my girl years, especially talking about childbirth and menopause - people around me are uncomfortable even folks who have known me both pre and post transition. Thank you for making it normal
Jax, me too.
Robin— you got me right there—“even where my skin changed neighborhoods.” The way you moved through girl and boy without asking for permission or clarity, just offering both, changed how I read every line after. I don’t have your story. I carry a different map, yet the body truths—those I know. Where presence lands in the smallest, most unexpected places. Where a breeze knows more than any mirror ever did. Touch, exactly like that. Thank you.
Those little nudges
I used to get mad, when too busy to be bothered.
The cold nose in the middle of the night.
Small nips gently on my skin,
Please take me outside.
Your soft hair after a bath,
Your kind eyes that followed my every move.
These kind of touches are what I miss.
My dear departed poodle
I miss you
More than words can say.
Noone will ever touch me like you did.
That was so sweet and tender to yourself. Even as a cis/boy/man I remember similar feelings through adolescence - mowing my naked chest to tease it into growing hair, curious why my nipples were so tenderly erotic (still are! delightfully so), wondering about the deliciousness of other boys but the just 'strangeness' of girls. Knowing I wasn't "normal" but didn't even have a clue what "normal" was. Oneself just out of reach.
This is beautiful, Robin
When I used to present as male…