Hey you!!!

Want a used, cheaper than new, soft pack? Here’s your chance! Hop over to eBay in the next ten days and bid on this item. Supports a fellow trans man.

Description: Used pink, 3.5 inch soft pack. One to two tiny tears, but in good shape.
You won’t believe how life-like this packer feels. It makes the perfect bulge whether you are performing, out on the town or just sitting around the house. It is made of a soft skin-like material that feels similar to CyberSkin and is very squishy.

To pack these many people use a tight pair of underwear, a jock-strap or a harness. **Note: packies are not meant for penetration.**

Softskin toys are porous, can be washed with soap and water or toy cleaner and then dusted with cornstarch after washing and drying to return the toy back to its original “life-like” texture.

According to the manufacturer, this toy is latex and phthalate-free.


I’ve been doing some crafts, and I’ve invented something really neat! It’s a combination of the Babeland Cock Sock and the Babeland Packing Pouch.

It’s basically a sock with velcro on it to keep your packer in place and in your pants. With a twist!! It comes in stylish colors and patterns! There are stripes, stars, argyle, tye-dye, spots, more stripes, even plain colors! Everything you’ve ever wanted in your pants!

The reason I dislike the Cock Sock is the strap around the waist. I have not actually used this particular harness, but I have had one similar to it. Having a harness strap, underwear elastic, and pants all pressing at my hips is very uncomfortable, and made it so I packed much less often. Also, it is kind of awkward to put this on after you’ve already put on pants.

I have used the Packing Pouch. I bought it as a birthday present for myself. Way too much money for what it’s worth. It has a very unique design in that it attaches to the waistband of your underwear with velcro! This eliminates the above problem of having an extra strap.

The pouch has a little hole for the shaft to go through. I’m really not sure what the point of this is. For one, it gets the shaft a lot dirtier than it would otherwise be. The lint from my underwear really likes to attach onto that material. It also makes it a lot harder to get into the pouch. What I most dislike about this characteristic is that this causes my dick to situate itself at very awkward angles if I am wearing anything but briefs. Its favorite position is to sit sideways.

The cock sock does not have this little hole, thereby keeping your packer nicely in place and in the direction its supposed to be. So, my little invention covers the best of both worlds!!

The estimated cost would be $8 (not including shipping and handling). Or $5 if you’d be okay with a used sock. Or Much less than the $18 of the packing pouch and the $15 of the cock sock. There are a few kinks I want to work out.

Leave a comment if this is something you’d be interested in!!

I’m doing stuff for new student orientation this year at school, which means I am out and about a lot meeting new people. I worry a lot about first impressions, gender-wise, at least. I know I don’t give the best first impression anyway, but I know people warm up to me. If someone reads me as male when they first see me, it will be easier for them to use the correct pronouns and such later on, I think. But if someone reads me as female at first, it is harder to have to change their initial perception of me. Long story short, I’ve been binding a lot. Too much, in fact. Been binding all day long.

When I first got my binder, all those months ago, I wore it a lot because I was excited. I ended up hurting my back so bad that it hurt for at least three days. It was so hard to sleep because there was no position I was comfy in.

That happened last night. Not to such extent, but it was still really bad. It happened really suddenly. Like I was just sitting there chatting, and I felt this sudden pain in my lower back. I kinda thought it would go away so I tried to ignore it. Within seconds it became too painful to ignore. I was on the ground crying and whimpering because it hurt so much. My friend helped me take my shirt and binder off. She laid me down on my belly and rubbed something or other onto my back. It felt really nice. I was out of commission for quite a while. If I stayed absolutely still, it didn’t hurt. Once, I breathed in deeply, like belly breathing, you know? And it really fucken hurt. Breathing hurt!

It should be noted that I’ve been binding tighter than I had been. I bought the tri-top binder from underworks for myself for my birthday. I usually fold it up, so total I’ve got six layers of compression on my chest.

I know I shouldn’t bind today, and maybe the next couple of days. It’s a health thing, you know? I’ve got to take care of myself. But it hurts so much, psychologically, when I don’t bind. I might wear a sports bra and a baggy shirt if I have to go out. But I don’t want the new students to see me like this. They already think I’m a girl because I go to a women’s college. I want people to see me how I see myself. Everyone, not just the new students. My dad says that your happiness should not be dependent upon anyone else, because you cannot control them. You should be able to be happy on your own, regardless of others. But it really makes a difference for me what other people think and how they act around me. I mean, I have to live with them. And hearing “she” in reference to me hurts more than binding. It’s this weird choice between my physical health and my mental health. I mean, yeah, I’m not going to bind today. But I’m probably not going to leave my room either.

“No one understands me! Not even my body!”


Note: I’m not placing any value judgements on anything here. I’m just observing and feeling conflicted.

At college, I have dykey friends who are all the time theorizing and discussing gender and sexuality and labels and stuff. I also read a lot of trans-aware blogs. Language is something I’ve noticed a lot of people getting hung up on. Like, the difference between transman and trans man. Using cis instead of biological or real. Avoiding saying words like female-bodied. There are all sorts of reasons for this and they all make sense. This expands into other realms as well, as language does. We are trying to be aware of ableist language, racist language, sexist language, potentially triggering language, all kinds of things! I realized that one of the reasons I was starting to be offended whenever someone said that I was biologically a woman or said I was female-bodied or whatever, was that I felt like I was supposed to be offended.

I have recently became friends with/have a fling with another trans guy (transguy?). He’s not really into the whole political side of trans stuff, he just wants to be himself. You can’t expect everyone to be up to date on this stuff, and I don’t think everyone should have to in order to be considered a good person. He says stuff like “I’m biologically a girl.” While I use what language that I have been taught to use, I’ve found that I’m actually not offended by the language he chooses to use. I think it would be annoying to stop and say, “Actually, those words could be potentially offending to trans-identified people, and you should really say X, Y, and Z.” I mean, he’s trans, and obviously he’s not offending himself. As we’ve gotten more comfy with each other, we tease each other, saying stuff like, “Yeah, well you’re not a real man.” And, since we know that we’re real men, we’re totally not offended and it’s just good, clean fun. Like, I’m glad to finally relax and not have to watch what I say all the time. However, if a cisgender person were to say that to me, even if it’s in good clean fun, I don’t know how I would feel. This sort of thing comes up with the use of the word tranny, which is a slur. I use it because I’m reclaiming it, but I don’t use it in mixed company, and I don’t think I’d be okay with a cisgender person using it, because you can’t reclaim a word for someone else. Is this like how black people are allowed to say the n-word?

So is it that trans people can say things that are potentially offensive to trans people, but cis people can’t? Can a word or phrase be offensive all on it’s own, not depending on who’s saying or to whom it’s addressed or the intent behind the word? Does every conversation have to be a lecture on what language you’re supposed to use? I mean, I hate correcting people, unless there is a whole lot of ignorance behind their use of language. For example, someone said to me that the guy I’m seeing isn’t really gay because I’m not really a boy, because I haven’t had surgery. There are so many things that, to me, sound like nails scraping against a chalkboard in that sentence. But if someone who knows that trans men are real men, and says that they’re “female-bodied” or “biologically female,” I don’t think I would stop the conversation for education. I feel really confused. How important is language in all this? Oof.

My name is
I am
activist, anarchist, baby butch, boi, boy, boy in a skirt, boy with a vagina, crossdresser, dyke on a bike, FTM, fag, fagdyke, fagette, female-assigned, femmeboy, gay, gender deviant, gender outlaw, gender transcender, gender warrior, guy, heteroflexible, individual, kinky, little brother, little sister, male-bodied, man, polysnuggler, pre-op, queer, sexy, suicidal, survivor, sweet, switch, theater fag, transboy, transgender warrior, transkid, treehugger
Who are you?

While I was in Costa Rica, I kind of stopped thinking about how my gender differs from others’. Everyone there met me as Ben, met me as a guy. I mean, they knew that I’m trans, but it didn’t mean that they slipped up with pronouns ever. Even though I never could bind during the day, they didn’t mess up. I had no social dysphoria whatsoever. It was so relaxing. A lot of my brain effort during the school year went toward thinking about gender and analyzing and “passing” and a whole lot of stuff. It was just exhausting and making me feel anxious. Gender was just sort of taken out of the equation, because people treated me and called me how it made sense in my head. Genderbitch refers to dysphoria as dissonance. She is usually talking about bodily dysphoria when she says dissonance, but I think it works well for social dysphoria as well. Cognitive dissonance refers to when you have an opinion or philosophy, but you aren’t living it out in practice. In terms of gender, it’s more so that you know something about yourself, but OTHERS’ behavior doesn’t match up. In Costa Rica, there was consonance because it DID match up. I only had bodily dysphoria, which doesn’t really ever go away.

Now that I am home with my parents, who are still adjusting, my social dysphoria is way way way up. It’s so uncomfortable to be home. I can’t even explain how much I hate it. I love my parents though. It’s very confusing for me. I know that they need time to adjust. But I need to feel safe and comfortable in my own home. But they’re my parents and I love them and I want them not to feel threatened. It’s cause for a lot of anxiety again. And since I don’t have homework or anything to cause anxiety, and there is no one calling me he or Ben, it’s what I think about most of the time. I grimace every time I hear that name. It’s also confusing because if you hear something enough, you almost begin to believe it yourself. It’s like when I was in a relationship with someone who really wasn’t comfortable with me being trans. I was trying to tell myself that I was a girl and I almost believed it. But, I’m not a girl. So it just makes my insides feel all mixed up and confused. It’s like my inside and my inside don’t match. And I have a month left at home. I don’t know what I can do.

Though, it’s not as bad as it could be. My parents love me as much as I love them, and they are trying their best. My mom calls me Ben occasionally. Mostly when my dad isn’t around. It’s really nice. She even called me he a couple times! When it was my birthday, they both said Ben in the Happy Birthday song, and the cards were addressed to Ben. That meant a lot to me. It makes me have hope for the future, which makes this adjustment period more bearable. Just the assurance that soon in the future I won’t have the awful dysphoria I have now.

That’s also what makes my body dysphoria bearable. The idea that someday I’ll have chest surgery and be on testosterone. I think I’d be pretty messed up psychologically if that weren’t feasible. My parents don’t think it’s a good idea, but I think they also trust my judgment. However, it does keep me pretty obsessed with the idea. I want to be able to just live my life, and it’s really hard when I’m not comfortable in my body. It’s very easy for my mood to kinda plummet from being read wrong or from my parents “she”ing me. I’m always mistaken for my mom on the phone, or people never hear my name right, cause Ben isn’t a girl’s name.

Sooooooooooooooooooooo hopefully the school year will make me feel more sane. Being called by my real name and pronoun and all that.

It’s my birthday. I was going to buy myself the STP packer from FTM Solutions. Um…..it doesn’t work. What?

It’s something I have, and something I’m not quite sure what to do with. I’m sort of just beginning to realize this now. I grew up in a small town where everyone was exactly the same. I only thought about the ways I was different (my gender expression and sexual orientation). In college (the college itself is about the same population as my hometown), there actually are people who are different, and who are starting conversations about that. I’ve started thinking about race and class and ability. My friends still have to call me out when I overlook those things, but I am trying. I’m used to saying, “I’m oppressed! And this is why!” But I’m not quite sure what to do when I have privilege, and I’ve certainly got it. I feel guilty, I guess. Which is always my reaction for doing something harmful/neglectful without meaning to. But there’s something I can do past guilt, and I am working on reading and learning more.

If y’all have any suggestions, I’d be glad to hear them.

This is a post about how good intentions don’t magically cover up harmful action. Intent! It’s Fucking Magic by Genderbitch


Thinking more, I realized that I have thought about this before college. This is something I thought about a lot in middle school, realizing that bad shit happens and that there are people who are worse off than me. This made me feel bad for feeling depressed (middle school is where my depression started). I was paralyzed by these thoughts. It was a cycle of feeling bad for feeling bad for feeling bad, and so on. I’m not going to be paralyzed again.

Where do I go from here?

In Costa Rica I could finally just be myself. I didn’t have to think about my gender at all. I didn’t need to prove myself, or constantly be analyzing and questioning. Besides, I was chilling with science majors, not women’s studies majors. It’s a whole different ball game and a whole different set of values. I could just relax. They knew I was a guy, and called me Ben and he like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because it is. That’s my name, and that’s my pronoun. I’m a guy. It makes perfect sense to me because that is the way I experience myself and they way I experience the world.

But I’m home now. Home, whatever that means. I’m chilling with my parents for two months. I know they love me and all. I mean, they’d have to if they wanted to put up with me for nineteen years. But every time they refer to me as she, it takes me a moment to figure out who they are talking about. Every time I hear my birth name, I feel lost. Like Ben doesn’t exist. He’s just this other made up person. This person whose life I live when I am at school or away from “home.” I have to learn to become this other person. I feel like I am acting. I am slowly embodying this other person, with a new name and gender. Going through her motions. Living with her parents and living her life. It makes me sick. And I feel like I, my Self is slowly disappearing. It hurts so much.

God I’m so emo right now.

I am F. towards M. transgender, and this is a blog about my (not) transition.

[...] Setting out to do something with your life is like sitting down to eat a moose. [...] Let the moose run. Eat some blueberries.

--Paddle Whispers by Douglas Wood

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