I'm Cooper. I was born and raised in northern Michigan with my dad. My parents divorced when I was only seven years old and life has been a rocky roller coaster ever since.
I always felt like something was wrong with me. I never quite felt right. As a child, I never played with dolls or wore pretty dresses. I had always preferred playing pokemon with my older brothers and coating myself in mud.
I stopped wearing dresses around the time my parents split up. I started either cutting my hair short or tying it up. I wore camo, sweatshirts, jeans, dirty sneakers, etc. Getting me to sit properly for a lady was impossible. I ended up not fitting in with anyone. It was hard and I had no friends.
I always felt like something was wrong with me. I never quite felt right. As a child, I never played with dolls or wore pretty dresses. I had always preferred playing pokemon with my older brothers and coating myself in mud.
I stopped wearing dresses around the time my parents split up. I started either cutting my hair short or tying it up. I wore camo, sweatshirts, jeans, dirty sneakers, etc. Getting me to sit properly for a lady was impossible. I ended up not fitting in with anyone. It was hard and I had no friends.
I came out as pansexual during my freshman year of high school. My dad took that one pretty nicely and even teases me about if from time to time. Pansexual is a sexuality that covers all genders and gender identities. In other words, I was attracted to people regardless of gender. Gender of whoI fell for didn't matter to me at all. I didn't even have to know. This made this difficult for me already. The possibility of being attracted to anyone and everyone was enough to put most people at a distance. Fellow students were terrified that I would hit on them or ask them out. Of course, some of the guys didn't mind really but other girls ran from me in disgust.
Things only got worse when the biggest ball was dropped. My senior year of high school I came out as transgender. I had finally come to terms with how I viewed myself. When I told my dad, he cried. He was distraught. His baby girl didn't want to be a girl anymore. When I told my mom, she cried too. She told me she had known since I was eight years old.
So here I am today, wearing a chest binder and a prosthetic in my pants so I can feel at least somewhat comfortable in my own body. Thanks to everything I've been through, I suffer from depression and take a medication called "Zoloft" to keep it under wraps. I've talked to my doctors about getting on a testosterone regimen and have yet to hear back.
Everyone has the right to feel comfortable in their body. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I'm