T. T. Testosterone

About a year ago (almost exactly), I made a big announcement here, do y’all remember?

If not, here’s a brief recap: I very excitedly revealed that because of the gender dysphoria that I had been experiencing, I was making the big decision to have Gender Affirming Surgery, aka Top Surgery. I think I said something like “holy shit, no more tits”. That sounds like something I would do, right?

Well, here I am again, in a similar situation, one that is yet again affected by gender dysphoria.

I was confident as hell going into Top Surgery. I’d known since puberty that I wasn’t meant to have breasts, and was ready to go as soon as the decision was made (from the first consult to the surgery day took about 3 months. This will be important later.)

I was also confident that once my chest was flat that my dysphoria would decrease to a livable level. Because when you fell outside of the gender binary, you have to be realistic about the fact that things won’t be perfect, but they will be good enough that it won’t affect your life too much.

It’s baffling how wrong I can be about myself. Don’t get me wrong, I love my new chest, it’s everything I ever hoped for. And to give myself some credit, my dysphoria about that part of my body is basically gone. Unfortunately, and unpredictably, even more dysphoria has rushed in and filled the void. I was in no way expecting this.

I considered myself lucky because my insurance company doesn’t require hormone therapy before top surgery like a lot of them do. I knew that hormones were an option and that lots of nonbinary folks do opt to use them, but back then there seemed like so many downsides, so many things that I didn’t want to happen to my body that it outweighed the results that I was interested in.

Testosterone things I want: fat redistribution, more muscle, facial shape changes. Testosterone things I don’t want: facial hair (other body hair is fine, I’m already super hairy), bottom growth. Testosterone things I’m neutral about: voice deepening.

Looking over the pros and cons on that list, to me, it drifts slightly towards hormones not being worth it. But when I started to think about it, I started to realize that these were not the only factors. A strange phenomenon started happening to me a few months after my surgery, and since then has been the driving factor when it comes to making T an option, and it’s not about how I see myself anymore, but about how other people see me.

I was so surprised at the rage that I felt the first time someone called me ‘ma’am’ after my surgery. My brain was screaming at the universe “I went through the pain of surgery and recovery and still people think I’m a girl?!!” It just didn’t seem fair. I’ve been using they/them pronouns for a while now, and I certainly don’t mind when people call me he or him or sir. But at this point in my life, she/her/ma’am makes my blood boil. I’m also at the point in my schooling where I’m thinking about internships and jobs, and how much more confidence I’ll have if I feel comfortable in my body.

I mentioned earlier how it took a while to go from consult to surgery last year. So when I finally made the decision to see an endocrinologist in a gender clinic, I assumed that it would be the same initial consult, secondary consult, required therapy, doctors notes, wait wait wait. Again, I was wrong. The doctor’s appointment was awesome. They asked about preferred names and pronouns (and used them!) The doctor and I talked for 20 minutes, and as it wound down, I expected him to tell me how many hoops I’d have to jump through next. As it turns out, the answer was zero hoops.

Right now. He said I could start right now.

Color me surprised. And that color would be the color of panic because I hadn’t expected that at all. Turns out there are doctors out there who respect the fact that you’re a well-informed adult who can make their own decision. The autistic part of my brain froze up, of course. There was a lot of sputtering and stammering. My wife had to remind me that we’d been talking about for almost a year, and then she humored me and we made a pro/con list.

I bet you all know what the end decision way. If you don’t, I’d like to direct you to the 3 dozen needles, box of alcohol wipes, and the viscous vial of pure dude juice in my bathroom.

It’s been two weeks, I’ve had 3 doses. I don’t feel anything yet, and I’m not expecting to yet. I’ll give you the same warning I’m going to all my friends- I will be going through puberty. Again. So if I’m irritable and smelly and hangry all the time and pimple faced and my voice cracks, 1: you have the right to poke fun at me, and 2: I’m still me, no matter what.

 

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