I could never undo what those surgeons did to my body. They stole the life I could have lived. Seeing them sentenced to life in prison was the only justice I could get, and now, I feel like I can finally start to heal and move forward. I’ve mostly adapted to my new body. I wear a bra because I have breasts that need support. My panties cover a flat feminine figure, and my outward appearance reflects my new identity. I’ve come to accept that.
What’s harder to accept is how the world sees me now and the role I have to play in society. With every click of my heels, the sway of my hips, and the subtle bounce of my chest, I’m constantly reminded that I’m now a woman in a world where men often have the power. I see the way they look at me — like I’m a prize or an object. I’ve experienced the fear of walking alone at night and being followed. I’ve learned that it’s sometimes safer not to argue when a stranger tells me to smile. Is it fair? Absolutely not. But it’s my reality now, and I have to adapt to survive.
Thanks to those surgeons who gave me these curves, I’ve become a target in ways I never expected. This is my life now, and I’m learning how to navigate it one step at a time
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