I know it may sounds strange to write my second post about public toilets but I just came back from a short holiday in the UK. Somehow you always seem to use public toilets more when you're away from home, even when you are staying with friends like I did. It's one of those moments of truth. I found it very confronting. Which door to you pick? Men or Women? Are you a boy or a girl. You can go through life being rather ambiguous about our gender most of the time and no one will be bothered. No one really notices half the time. People label us the way fits them best. If they're not sure they just decide on some random factor that pops up in our subconscience and they never question it. But the moment you step through one of those doors the label is set. That's how you define yourself and how you expect the rest of the world to see you as well. If you do not fir that label you are even forbidden to go in there. It's one of those places that for most people are one of the greater mysteries of life: what goes on behind the other door.... And suddenly I was there. Behind that other door. That place where I was not allowed to be for so long. And it was rank. Seriously, what's up with that? Why are men's rooms so much smellier then girl's rooms? I guess it has to do with hormones. But I must say it took me a while to get uses to it.
What I do still find a bit unnerving is that I can't use a urinal. I have to use a stall. Of which there is usually only one and it usually just get used for number 2. Of course that is a legitimate reason to go in there. When nature calls and so on. And there are plenty of guys who don't feel comfortable using a urinal in front of other men. But this is different. It's not a choice. It's a must. It's because I'm missing body parts. This may sound dramatic but it makes me feel disfigured, like an amputee. It makes me more aware of what I'm missing and it's frustrating as hell. I know there isn't much I can do about it right now. They have prosthetics that you can urinate with but I haven't tried them yet. I'm not sure where to get them and I'm not sure if I would be comfortable using it in front of other people. What if they notice?
That's the other thing. What if someone looks at me and say: hey! You're not a real guy! What are you doing in here? Get out! I know the chances of that happening are slim to none. I seem to be pretty convincing as a boy to other people. But still... I know. It makes me more aware, more alert when I'm in there. The worst moments are when I have to stand and wait for a stall and people come in and go and look at me wondering why I'm standing there. It's extremely uncomfortable. Sometimes it seems to stretch on for ever. Sometimes I really wonder why I'm choosing to make my life so difficult and something as simple as taking a piss has to become torment and why I can't just act normal and use the girl's room just like all the people born with ovaries do. But the thought of going in there is even worse. I don't belong in there. When I took the plane I dressed as a girl, as in didn't wear my binder or my cock and put on a bra, that's basically the only difference. It meant I had to take the door labeled women. It felt strange going in there. It's not where I'm supposed to be. When I am dressed as myself, as in with binder and all, the idea of using the girl's room is absurd. If I'd try I probably would get kicked out, or at least get some really funny looks. And they would be right. No way I should be in there then. I am, after all, a man, no matter what my pluming says.