My breasts were not so pronounced that my body became the source of conversation. My parents were oblivious to the fact I was being sexually abused by neighbors so they didn't interpret my gaining weight around age nine which made my soft chest became more evident. They also were unaware when I began crossdressing while babysitting or when I began breaking into homes as a teen to steal lingerie. It was only when I was fifteen years old and my mother found a pillowcase beneath my bed stuffed full of lingerie that we had "a talk." The talk consisted of sending me to talk with the doctor who delivered me. He was as uncomfortable about the conversation as I was. I promised not to do it again, but alas, teenage hormones prevailed. The next time my family needed to attend to the subject was when I was nineteen years old. That was when a police car pulled up the front of our home and I was arrested for breaking into a home in a nearby suburb.
What was happening with my slightly feminine body was much less of concern than what was happening in my mind. Of course, no one ever asked what stealing and wearing lingerie was all about. They gave me a psychological test, put me on probation which consisted of meeting with a probation officer once a month for a year and nothing else. No one in my family wanted to talk about it and they certainly didn't send me to therapy or to talk with our pastor. Only the neighbor next door who now understood I was the one who stole lingerie from her home registered events. Needless to say, there was no longer a relationship with that family. My girl friend with whom I was having an active sex life never brought the subject up, despite that fact it was my inadvertently leaving her high school graduation ring at the scene of the crime that led to my arrest. The police had visited her family to identify me. I actually married that young woman a few years later.
I know that my journey is much different from most of the men here. My soft chest was never so well developed that anyone noticed or commented. But I was rather fixated on wearing lingerie, which I did intermittently over the years. Ironically, breast development came later and suddenly, my fixation on brassieres coincided with my need to wear one... or if not exactly my need, my desire to wear one. And what better place to explore that than with a group of men learning how to come to terms with their breasts and their more feminine psyche? I love being with men who appreciate their breasts and who enjoy shopping for brassieres they are willing to show us.
Your journey Birdie is also quite unique and in many ways tragic. I hope there is greater consciousness now about the implications of these decisions regarding intersexed infants. As you noted, they occur once in every 1500 births, which is much more than anyone would imagine. Sadly, the world doesn't seem prepared to cope with differences, especially when they are associated with gender or sexual orientation.