There wasn’t much room in the woman’s thong I put on, but it seemed comfy enough if I arranged things correctly. Since my surgery, I much prefer having my penis pointing upwards in underwear. When I had testicles, it tended to fold down over the top of them.

Things were fine for most of the day, but come late afternoon, I wasn’t feeling as comfortable down below – I’d not done any manscaping for a while, so there’s a bit of hair around the crotch area … and the thong was beginning to pull on the hairs.

Clearly, it’s time for a bit of topiary in the groinal garden.

It wasn’t until I got home and finally managed to strip that I realised: I had them on wrong!

These aren’t cheese-wire thongs — there’s a bit of actual fabric to them.

There is also a waistband.

I’d somehow wrapped the waistband around one thigh, and the crotch-string around the other.

My poor cock was basically being held in place by the narrow strip of belt that was supposed to be the waist.

This isn’t a problem I’d encountered before: men’s G-strings have a pouch at the front, so you gotta be pretty dumb to get them on wrong.

Gender euphoria sometimes looks like a perfect tuck. Other times it looks like unravelling your own thighs from a misapplied thong.