6.01.2010

Thirteen to Thirty-Five

I never seem to be able to conjure a memory about feeling different than other kids on demand instead, every once in a while they seem to sneak up on me. I don't really remember every being obsessed with my body, weighing myself, checking every inch of my skin for blemishes, plucking unsightly hairs or whatever other teenagers do for hours behind the locked door of a bathroom. Since starting T however I find myself spending a lot more time looking for signs that it's actually working. With the exception of sounding like I have something stuck in my throat, I secretly wonder if the endocrinologist slipped me a placebo. I am always on the lookout for new body hair, a receding hairline, bigger muscles or any other sign of a second puberty. Aside from some acne, an increased appetite, and gaining a few pounds around the middle (which could also be from my recent lapse into lazy eating habits coupled with an inability to work after my fourth arm surgery and an inhumane number of hours behind the wheel) I have discovered that I really wasn't that familiar with my body to begin with. All those soft blonde "new" hairs were already there, even the ones in my nose.

 I used to spend time behind a locked bathroom door but it wasn't to primp and preen, not to condition, or back comb, or curl and spray my hair. It wasn't to pluck eyebrows, apply make up, or choose which dress would fit best over a perfectly stuffed bra. Nope, I spent a lot of time flexing, making muscles, imagining what I'd look like with a moustache, a beard,  a goatee, or five o'clock shadow. I would cover my breasts and imagine what it would be like to be free of them, to have a flat hairy chest, to wear only shorts to the beach, to ride my bike and feel the wind on my bare skin. And only a couple of days ago, there I was at thirty-five staring into the mirror wishing for the same things as that thirteen year old kid looking back at me.

Now here I am, nearly two thousand kilometres and 21 years outside of that bathroom with an official change of name certificate, a new birth certificate, and another shot of testosterone on the schedule for tonight. Soon me and that kid will be back in the same body, the one we always imagined.  And then...

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