We don’t see ourselves as others see us. There is a filter that disregards the direct analysis of the sum of our parts. It takes incredible self-awareness, placidity and a healthy dose of humility to fully comprehend what we truly appear to be to other people. I don’t have any of that. I live in a dream world, with enough fissures in my “reality” to make me worry.
I don’t see me until I look in the mirror, and even then I only focus on the feature I went to the mirror for. I don’t look long and hard into the reflection. I can’t stand the image that looks back at me, the man standing there when it should be a woman. When the mirror is absent, I am a woman, albeit a woman who has to pretend to be a man during work hours.
Some may see this as a shallow existence, to only see the parts to never delve deeper. But this is only with my outer appearance, the shell that hides the me inside. I don’t believe I am shallow, I plumb the depths of my mind, I am an introvert who looks hard at the person I am inside. Inside me, I am just a girl. It’s uncomplicated at it’s core, there is no penis, no testosterone, no machismo, but there are infinite lives of the female me in this mind.
So, I don’t see the reflection in the mirror, I don’t acknowledge the lie of this shell. I avoid having photos taken of me. I am not comfortable having attention centered on me. This isn’t me the photo is revealing, this isn’t a guy you are looking at. Pronouns? lol, I don’t care about pronouns, call me what you want. I don’t want to be seen as a man, that is the worst. The deception, the long con, is that everyone is perfectly content as seeing me as this penis bearing, facial hair growing, man in the mirror. They should know better, they should be able to see past this facade. They never do.
Perception will tell them that I must be a transvestite, that I am confused, that I am fooling myself. They don’t actually see me, they see only what the mirror sees, a flat representation of the surface.