I get that breasts trigger dysphoria. I totally get it, I have lived through it myself.
I just want to say, that although my breasts appearing almost overnight made me pretty devastated, at least I got the chance to eventually get used to them. I hated them with a passion. I hid them, I slouched (I’m finally trying to get rid of that!). I’d have given anything to have a time machine and go back to before they erupted onto my unwilling body. But now I don’t feel anything about them.
If you wear a binder, you get that dreaded sinking feeling every. single. time. you. take. it. off. The breasts appear, out of nowhere, as a reminder, each time. That will fuck with your head.
So you can see transmen keeping the binder on. Because what do you see when it comes off? Destroyed breast tissue and lumpy ribs. The more you do it, the more you feel you have to do it. The more you dissociate from your own body, the more dysphoria you’re going to have, not less.
There’s no opportunity to get to relate to your own body parts as neutral. I’m not talking about some massive self-love thing, just seeing your breasts as neutral body parts. Like your ankles, or your earlobes or whatever.
You can’t do that if there’s this upsetting big reveal every time you take a binder off. And you have to take a binder off eventually. It’s just a shitty coping mechanism.
And, I hate to sound cruel, but in most cases it doesn’t make that much of a difference. A flat chested woman still looks like a woman. And there’s nothing particularly masculine about not being able to breathe. And if you do have a mastectomy, your results will be worse, because you’ve got fucked up breast tissue and deformed ribs.
Fitted sports bras, layers, and deal with it. Binders are just a terrible idea, every time.
gummygunk
blakekathryn
tangentwithtanner
theartofmadeline
pixelskylines
origamiaround
kaledo-art
titsay
germansingergirl
