I don't regret my top surgery.
The argument last night had me thinking about this and I don't think I've ever discussed it here, so I'd like to open up the conversation.
Most of you know I'm some form of detrans, but I've never really gone into much detail on that. I think my story is a bit different from most I've read on radblr, and I'm hoping that in sharing it, perhaps I can hold space for others who have felt hesitant to share their "outside the radblr norm" detrans stories.
When I was about 7 or 8, I was wearing a plain forest greet skater dress and sneakers on a tiny island in the middle of a lake near where I grew up. I was doing what I loved most - climbing trees, exploring outdoors, playing childhood fantasy games in my head. I ran into some kids about my age who spotted me on a tree branch and asked me if I was a boy or a girl. I recall feeling sort of floored in that moment. I'd never thought about it before, and for whatever reason, I didn't feel confident in my response. I said "both."
In middle school, all of my friends were masculine, socially awkward tomboys. Some were on the swim team, big and muscular, some on the robotics and mathletes teams, dorky and unashamed of it. None shaved any body hair, and it wasn't a statement - by 7th grade none of us had even realized we were expected to yet. All of them were taller, bigger, heavier, more masculine-looking than I was. None wore makeup or remotely sexy outfits or even did their hair. I shaved my legs, experimented with makeup, tried to look hot. I was by far the most "feminine" of my friend group in terms of body type alone. So why did I feel so out of place and disorientingly masculine around them despite those things? I felt like the Hulk trying to hang with preteen girls. It didn't make sense. I doubled down on learning to perform femininity. My friends never did.
My first year of college, I was exposed to the concept of gender identity for the first time. I thought it was silly, but I kept quiet in public. In private, I mocked it with my then-partner. But then, my second year of college, I started listening more closely - to the trans kids on campus and to myself. I remember being at my ex's parents house for winter break, gathering up my long hair and cramming it all under a beanie, layering tight sports bras and borrowing her brother's sweater. I felt giddy. I took the first photo of myself I ever liked. I cut my hair.
For a time afterward, I called myself nonbinary. Maybe genderfluid? I wasn't sure, I told people. I wasn't sure, and while I felt okay about it, it wasn't changing any of the other negatives in my life in any way. I tried to show off my chest, knowing it was an especially symmetrical and conventionally beautiful one. I didn't mind it being seen, but any touch was agonizing. I kept my shirt on in the bedroom to discourage partners from touching.
Over time my nonbinary identity faded to the back of my mind (it's now clear to me that I only labeled myself as such because I felt like I was supposed to if I had dysphoria). People still used they/them pronouns for me, but I no longer felt any need to label myself with a gender identity, let alone pronouns. The feeling in my chest never faded at all. I began researching top surgery. Out of curiosity, I insisted. But I was saving every spare penny. In pre-pandemic January of 2020 I had a consultation with Dr. Charles Garramone. I picked a date and paid the fee to hold the date. I still wasn't sure. I hated how my breasts felt on my body, but I loved how they looked. I didn't identify as a man or anything at all. Just me. I couldn't relate to anyone in top surgery forums.
I went back and forth often over the 7 months between the consultation and the surgery. I'm a woman, I thought. I love how my body looks in the mirror. I'm happy and confident in myself. So why do I still want to do this? Why does it still feel like there's a prosthetic duct-taped to my chest? Won't it be weird to be a masculine, boobless woman? My mom told me I would regret it. I told her regret isn't in my personality - I've always looked at the bright side of things. I have no use for regret. You can't change the past, so if you don't like the past, you can either ignore it or find a way to spin it positively. As it turns out, I didn't need to do either of those.
I woke up on 8/11/2020 almost $11,000 poorer and a few pounds lighter. I didn't have a chance to see anything for about a week, and at that point I had too much skin irritation from bandages and adhesives to get a good look. But as I started to heal, I aso began feeling happiness and relief. Despite my genetic health concerns and premature removal of my compression bandage, my scars healed thin and subtle.
I still wear a shirt almost every time I swim... partly because it feels right and partly because I just don't like sunscreen. I don't run around topless, though it's kind of cool that I legally can. It's a fun feeling. Everyone should be able to do that legally and without being sexualized. But what mattered most to me was not in activity or appearance but in sensation. At first, I experienced phantom sensations, but as my nerves rewired, that and the "prosthesis duct taped on" feeling began to quickly fade. I loved touching my chest and having my chest touched. I still do.
I am a little bit happier, a little more at ease. I don't have that uncomfortable sensation lingering on my mind pretty much ever anymore. Sometimes, I'm mistaken for a man. I often say hello to women in the restroom to ensure they know I'm female. Beyond that, I've experienced no negatives. I liked my body before and I like it now, though I rarely even take it into consideration at all. In general, unrelated to the surgery, I'm incredibly happy with everything in my life. It's very rare for me to feel down or insecure.
I don't have any regrets about it, and to be 100%, fully honest, I would do it again (it helps that I had constant and severely painful breast cysts as well). It isn't something I would encourage willy-nilly, but I believe I did things the right way for me. I abandoned gender identity and embraced my womanhood long before I had the surgery. I put a couple of years between the last time I experienced body image issues and receiving this procedure. I worked through any trauma history intensively for several years with an absolutely incredible, almost witch-like therapist. I had no mental health diagnoses by the time of my surgery. I read endless detrans regret stories to determine whether I related to any beforehand.
Over a half decade of thought, precautions, and emotional work went into this choice for me, and THAT is what I want to stress. I learned from other detransitioners and desisters BEFORE I went ahead with surgery. I addressed any potential mental health concerns well in advance with a top tier therapist and the express goal between us of determining my readiness and ability to make such a significant decision. I don't think it is realistic to try to eliminate such surgeries entirely. But what I do believe in is fighting to make sure that the people who are getting them have done the work and are truly in a place where they're equipped to make that choice. What worries me is how many people go from "discovering their gender identity" to having major cosmetic surgery within a year or so, or those who go into surgery under the influence of extreme gender fanaticism without taking any time to critique and analyze.
I know many radfems would do anything to eliminate these surgeries entirely, and I love and respect those who feel that way, but that's never going to be me. I don't know why I had the sensations I did in my chest, and I don't know why surgery helped. I can guess - maybe something do to with the fact that I already have problems with my nervous system's wiring? But guessing is the best I've got. What I do know with absolute certainty is that no part of me regrets it, and I'm not interested in hiding that truth for any reason, person, or agenda. I am a whole woman, and a pretty badass one at that. I'm killing it in my career, starting a business with my wife, and committing nearly all my spare time to activism, kindness, and community service. I love every part of me, as I am right now and as I was before.