MOSTLY I FORGET
EVERY FRIDAY I PLUNGE THIS BADBOY INTO SOME MUSCLE ON MY BODY
Except that mostly I forget.
BRAINS ARE FUNNY, RIGHT?
When I first started taking testosterone I counted down the hours until my next weekly shot.
I painstakingly obsessed that not a drop was wasted. And now... now I kinda dread it.
And yet I also mind fuck whether I should be on a higher dose.
Is it still working? Why can’t I grow more facial hair? Will I ever weigh more than 120 lbs again?
But mostly it’s out of sight, out of mind, because for the most part it’s done its job.
Testosterone helped make me, me.
MOST OF MY PHYSICAL CHANGES HAVE ALREADY HAPPENED.
My voice has dropped.
My body weight has been redistributed.
My face has changed.
Hell even my hair has fallen out.
Now I’m just holding the line.
PSSST…. I gotta tell you something…
Holding the line is not nearly as thrilling as charting new territory
. . . and so I forget.
But to me, the forgetting, that right there is the most magical part of all.
Because forgetting means I’m not hiding anymore. Forgetting means that I’m free.
And as Elenor Shelstrop would say, ”That feels pretty forking amazing!”