It's not that I hate my cock.
We have had some great times together. I don't feel embarrassed or angry that I have one, but I feel like there was a better option.
It is like if you ordered a pizza with extra cheese, and got extra cheese and sausage. It's still delicious, but... it's just not quite right, but you can't send it back.
Does that make sense? Maybe I'm just hungry, but I think this is a pretty good analogy.
Maybe that is why I enjoy shaping garments so much more than getting "all dolled up," in very feminine attire. I have no real desire to wear dresses or pretty floral things. When I have time to myself to put on what I want, it is all my normal clothing over the top of breastforms, gaffs, and corsets. I'm putting more cheese on the pizza to hide the sausage (kind of pretending it's not there).
Anyway, I will leave you to ponder that. I'm going to order lunch.