Misgendered all day, so here are my balls

two weeks post testicular implant, flaccid. I love the weight of the balls in my scrotum and how one side, the right, hangs lower. the added bulk of the balls in the sack really does a lot for privacy of what’s behind. It’s dark in here, so these pics aren’t amazing, but look how they rest when I’m on my side. Silly to anyone else, but touching them makes me feel so emotional. My heart beats harder, my tummy churns these strong feelings of gratitude, and I get a lump in my throat. It means everything; being restored to the shape my body should have grown. I couldn’t imagine going on in life without at least attempting this. It looks like just balls, I guess, but they’re really here. Not part of a packer, STP, or toy. They’re part of me. The thought makes me just close my eyes and hold weighty silence.

Today was so hard for me. My dad called me daughter must have been a hundred times. I was so exhausted and beaten down inside. The day is over, and I know who I am. I knew before surgery– but it fills my heart and body with hope to know how many people worked long hours, day and night, because they do know who I am.

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