I have to laugh thinking back to my own experience with breasts. About 2 years ago when I was wrestling with whether I was really trans, I was keeping a mental checklist of the pros and the cons. I thought I was certain, but… There were these lingering doubts. One Trans veteran I discovered mentioned that if you fantasized about having your testicles and penis cut off, chances are you’re trans. Normal males don’t think that way. They would be horrified. Check and Check. You would think that would be enough, but it wasn’t. So I read 2 dozen books by or about trans women. In each there were sections that could have been taken from my life. I recognized the terrain immediately. My brother, a former federal prosecutor sent me an email after I came out to him entitled, The Doubts Linger. I ran through all the reasons that I thought I was trans, my attitudes, my experience, my new awakening and sense of self, all the things we all go through. But… I had to admit that I had a lingering doubt as to whether I really knew myself or was suffering from a massive delusion. My brother thought my hormones were screwed up. I wasn’t on any yet, but my sexuality had shifted from being a heteronormative male to wanting a man to just take me and have his way with me. It was an almost overwhelming urge.

For weeks, I would toss and turn at night on the edge of consciousness and wrestle internally with what was happening to me. One morning, after a particularly sleepless night, I went into the bathroom, splashed water on my face and looked in the mirror at my chest. I had grown C cups because of the side effects of finasteride therapy three years before. I admired what peered back at me and cupped them in amazement. These were not just little buds. They were ample full grown mature breasts. I realized I really liked them—a lot. I wasn’t horrified, I was thrilled. That was the capstone to my personal journey. I was certain. I knew who I was and I have never looked back.