

This definitely happened to me a LOT when I was growing up. Oddly enough, right around the time of puberty. Which, now that I think about, explains a lot. Mine was usually right after dreams about being small. I ended up over 6 feet tall by middle school, so that’s either an expression of dysphoria, body dysmorphia, or both. I’m going with both.
Dandelion, have you ever considered writing professionally? You answer so many questions with thoughtful, insightful, and exquisite prose. A “transition experiences guide” or a memoir from you would make for a delightful read.
Also, I definitely needed to read this comment today. I spent the day boymoding and doing home renovation and it was unpleasantly dysphoric. I am not intending to be misogynistic, because there are plenty of women around me absolutely nailing the homeowner thing, but standing on a ladder getting caulk in my fingernails and forcing a hammer drill into a wall is not my idea of a good time.