For a long time, I’ve been pretty happy to be a no-op transwoman. I wore the label “dickgirl” with pride, eventually shifting to “pricklady” as I felt I became more grown-up and dignified. But yesterday, a switch flipped. Suddenly I’m seriously contemplating getting genital surgery.

I feel like it’s not so much that my personal, private performance of a female gender requires me to be able to easily put three penises inside me at once. That’s a part of it – if I could wave a magic wand and swap bits, I’d certainly do it and enjoy the hell out of finally being able to have vaginal sex – but that’s not what made me finally decide. No, what made me finally decide to do something about my genitals is the day in, day out hassle of tucking. I’ve worked hard to have the body I do. I’ve poured a lot of hormones into it, I’ve learnt how to dress it nicely, I exercise regularly to keep it in good shape. I have a pretty thing I want to show off, and I’m tired of always having to worry, somewhere in the back of my mind, if the tape on my loins is going to come unstuck and let my cock come flopping out to make a huge misgendering bulge in my skirt. And even when I’m not showing myself off? Hell, take right now – I’ve got to get dressed for yoga class soon, which pretty much involves a top, leggings, and tape. And right now my loins are tender from being tightly tucked through most of a long, sweaty day out the day before yesterday; there’s a spot the tape goes on that got the top layer of skin pulled off, and is too tender to tape. Am I going to fiddle with a different arrangement? Make do with some tight underwear? Or just blow it off? I’d rather just get up, pull on a blouse and leggings, and go. I loved what getting my facial hair removed did for the amount of hassle involved in getting ready to leaving the house, and now I want to remove the next hassle.

It feels kind of superficial when I put it like that, but I mentioned this in much briefer form on Twitter and instantly had pretty much all my post-op MtF acquaintances chiming in and saying “yeah that was most of it for me too”. I’m at a point where people are routinely surprised when I mention I’m trans, but I’m tired of having to be constantly AWARE of my genitals.

So now I need to start researching. Who do I want to sculpt my flesh into a new configuration? What kind of options do I have? How much is it gonna cost me? Can I get insurance to pay for it? Do I want to try to do any deliberate artistic choices in the shaping of my new genitals? This is gonna be so much hassle. But in the long run it’ll hopefully be a major reduction in the amount of hassle in my life, when I can get up in the morning and not give a flying shit about whether or not my dick is gonna poke out of my clothes. Maybe this is my subconscious asking for the biggest birthday present ever; I did have a birthday two weeks ago, after all.

I really thought I’d never come to this point, that I’d be happy being a pricklady until such time as I could have hot-swappable genitals. But I guess the back of my head had other ideas.

It is immensely satisfying to give in to a brief urge to dress like a boy and discover that I just don't pass as one very easily any more. I can see every single little flaw in my feminine presentation all too well, but a half-assed attempt to go the other way really highlights how far I've come. I'd have to go get something to bind with, wrap it tight enough to impair breathing, and go buy some new clothes, as everything I own now codes for “girl”.