Really, I do. Breasts are great. Looking at my written work for the adult industry, the women I’ve enjoyed the most have generally had a top-heavy trait in common. They’re nice.

But no, I don’t want them on me.

In fact, that’s the one thing I keep coming back to when I’m trying to figure out just what all of this gender stuff means for me. Because while I get annoyed that my dangly bits get in the way with a lot of women’s clothing—and don’t exactly look great in tights, might I add—I still don’t want to change my biology.

I’m happy that my legs look good. I’m happy with their shape and tone and I shave them daily. They fit the feminine part in my not-so-humble opinion. I don’t really have hips, of course, so that’s out. And while I’d like to lose just a little bit of weight, I suppose my torso is fine. What I wouldn’t want is for my chest to be bigger—and that goes for breasts or pecs.

So how do I know I’m not trans? Because I don’t want a completely female body. I’m satisfied with the elements I can have and still feel like what I see as me.

Seriously, boobs are great. I’m a huge fan. But I’m not going to get any attached to my frame. I’ll be feminine in the ways with which I’m comfortable.

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