touch photography

My friend Melanie has been absolutely incredible. She came to pick me up in the middle of the night when I was nearly passed out on my parents' bathroom floor when I saw my chest for the first time unveiled. (Blackened nipples, and bloody stitches... My first post-op shower was not a success. I'm not even that squimish, but seeing that shit nearly made me hit the floor instantly.)

To my astonishment, Mel came by instantly despite being the middle of the night. She drove us back to her Mom's house so I could have some company to get me through. I took a bath, and then took a second look at my new chest. Without even being conscious of it, I started sobbing~some huge physiological release. I guess it was a mourning period, and I didn't even realize it.

She stayed up with me half the night to simply talk, and listen, and help me. It was so selfless.

In the midst of all of this, I realized that here I was, sitting infront of one of my best friends that I have known since we were 16 (now being 32.) She had seen me through so many of my many upsets in life. There she was right by me again.

I kept looking at the scars, my new chest, wondering how it would all turn out. I asked her if she would be willing to take some pictures to document this process. She took some medium format polaroids and some digital stills.

There I was, infront of my best friend, shirtless, and not even realizing that it would have been out of the question for me just one month ago, pre-op. I have always been paralyzed by insecurities about my body. For me being trans was an offshoot of body dysmorphic disorder, where I never felt like this body was my own. Therefore, it was always difficult for me to summons enough inhibition to simply open up and share what I hated most about my body.

Yet, on this particular night, I recognized that my life had changed. Not only did I try to make my body resemble the image that I have in my head, but I also lost that paralyzing fear of letting anyone else see these elements of myself that felt alien to me. Suddenly my chest was my own, it made sense, scars and all. And I was able to see it for what it was, and let it be seen. A radical notion for me.

Melanie touched my scars, and I couldn't even feel it, my skin was so numb. But it was huge. It was so symbolic that I had made this enormous shift in my life. There was no insecurity that persevered like when my breasts had still been there. It dissolved. It was liberating. Everything is different now.



(Pretty graphic, so take this as my warning... when they are posted within the next day..)