My life:
The youngest. The only girl. Three older brothers. Two or three neighbor boys. My mother spent the first few years of my life trying like hell to get me to play with dolls, wear dresses. Hair ribbons were a biggie. Reality? Skinned knees, running around the farm chasing "The Boys", somehow feeling like I lacked a certain "part" of my anatomy. (I would have given just about ANYTHING, for a penis.) I literally peed standing up one time. Hell of a mess.OK. Finally realized I can't do a damn thing about it. My school years? My teachers called me Chris. My brother's name. My formative years? Hanging out with my Mom. She would introduce me to her friends. Their response? "I didn't know you had a daughter!". Self-esteem-enhancing, this is not. My teen years? Let's just not go there...
Fast forward. Life is good. Despite being born without a penis.
