Hey,
A while back— not long before I came out publicly as nonbinary— there was a webcomic floating around on social media that hit me like a ton of bricks.
[Source for the original post here, link to the artist’s portfolio site here.]
When I was younger there were things I wanted to do to look the way I wanted to look but I never actually did them. I never got piercings. I didn’t get a tattoo until I was 28, and it’s unfinished, and I got it mostly because a former friend was apprenticing and needed practice. I stuck with the same basic uniform for years— jeans, black t-shirt— because trying to find outfits I liked was too daunting. I purposefully made myself look frumpy and unkempt. Even tending to my hair, the one part of my body that I actually liked and was proud of, felt like more hassle than it was worth.
A potent combination of depression & anxiety, executive dysfunction, and gender dysphoria made it feel like none of that was ever worth the effort. I was always going to be ugly and gross, and tattoos and cute outfits and nice hair would never change that, so why bother.
My body felt like a cheap, shitty rental. There was no point in making it look nice. And it’s not like I was going to be here for long anyway.
Coming out as trans was life-changing (and life-saving) for a number of reasons, and one was that, at long last, my body finally started to feel like a home.
I started to rethink how I dressed— not just to present as my correct gender, but to expand my idea of what kind of clothes I could wear and look good in. It’s such an obvious thing, but wearing colors other than black felt radical and liberating in a way I’m almost embarrassed to admit.
I stopped feeling bad about dyeing my hair and also felt comfortable enough in my femininity to try out a hair style other than “long.” I recognized that taking care of my hair, and making it stand out, wasn’t a half-measure or a coping mechanism. My hair is a source of power and confidence for me, and once I recognized that, I felt better about investing in it.
And I finally started to feel like I could start painting the walls and doing a bit of remodeling.
All this to say: I put a hole in my face last weekend.
Getting my septum pierced is something I’ve been wanting to do for years, and never did. Because why bother, right?
It’s not a transition milestone, but it feels like one. My body doesn’t feel like a cheap rental anymore. It feels like home.
Take care,
Bridget