Tag Archives: Testosterone

I scheduled my chest surgery for just over two months from now! I’ve made a gigantic paper chain counting down the days.

I’m still not shaving, although it’s purely obstinance that’s keeping me from it. I always look scruffy, and I should really be using the beard trimmer every day.  There are a couple of darkening hairs outlining where my “soul patch” will eventually be, and the hair on my cheeks is darkening a bit more, though it’s nowhere near as thick as the hair elsewhere on my face. I did notice a while back, however, that I have one or two hairs on the upper part of my left cheekbone.  Creepy.

I feel much more solid these days. Especially in my arms, I feel that my muscles are more defined, although I haven’t been working out. There are a few hairs showing up on the backs of my hands, and my chest and belly fur is filling in quickly.  The acne is gross, but I think I’m just going to have to accept some level of it for a while, until my puberty has run its course.

I’ve been fairly comfortable in my body, most of the time. I am more comfortable being shirtless and/or without a binder around my closer friends, so long as I am in my house. Binding, of course, is incredibly physically and mentally painful. But I have found myself more and more comfortable with my partner touching my chest–I’ve even enjoyed it. I think this is partly because I know that my partner sees my chest as a male chest, and my breasts as simply a part of my body. Also, I resent my chest less than I ever have. I think that they’ve always been the point upon which I fixed all of my body dysphoria– for whatever reason, they’ve been the symbol of my femaleness. But, now, they just feel out-of-place and vestigial. They’re uncomfortable, but not because they make me female, or because they make me appear female (to myself or to anyone else), but rather because of the huge disconnect between them and the rest of my body. I look–I am–male. I just also have breasts, and I relate to them in what I imagine is a similar way that cissexual men with gynecomastia relate to their chests. While I am as certain as I possibly can be that I won’t regret having chest surgery, I’ll admit that it was much easier to send these guys to their deaths when I hated them.

My sex drive remains high, and I find myself attracted to more and more types of people. Most notably, I am increasingly attracted to more masculine-appearing men (beards, body hair, broad/square body types) and to feminine-appearing women (I am suddenly intrigued by long hair). The total number of people in any given room that I will find attractive has increased, too.

I should probably shave my face these days, instead of just using my beard trimmer without a guard. My stubble is always visible, so I never look particularly professional. I’m just not ready for all that maintenance! Also, I don’t want to aggravate my skin any more, since I’m trying to keep the acne at bay. Fortunately, this isn’t an issue at my job.

The acne on my back and shoulders still seems to be slowly improving. I think my furriness is becoming an important part of my self image–probably a good thing considering how hairy I’m becoming. I was really unsettled earlier this month when I had to clipper my chest and stomach for pre-op photos for my surgeon and insurance company–without my fur, my body felt significantly more female than it has in a long, long time. I clippered my leg hair on a whim and noticed how much more defined my muscles are these days.

My sex drive is quite high these days, and I am enjoying front-hole sex for the first time since I began HRT. I’ve also noticed some fairly significant dick growth over this past month.

I moved into a new place recently, and I was shocked at how much stronger I am than I was pre-T. I hadn’t noticed too much of an increase in strength after the first month; I guess it was a gradual change. I have definitely become more able to lift and carry heavy things for a longer period of time, and I recover from exertion a lot faster than I did prior to HRT.

Also, I visited my therapist to ask her for a letter for surgery when the time comes, and to check in. She agrees that I have no need for therapy at this point in my life, but that I’ll keep checking in with her on occasion. When I get insurance approval for surgery, we’ll meet again to discuss the specifics of my letter.

This past month, a newly post-op guy from Livejournal FTM mailed me a bag full of his old binding materials.  Until this point, I’ve only had a single binder from the Big Brother Used Binder Program.  I now have two more Underworks Double Front Compression Shirts (Style #997), and an Underworks Tri-Top (Style #983).  While the #997 is the most effective method I’ve tried, the Tri-Top is one of the most comfortable.  I wear it when I work out, or with loose t-shirts to give my back a break.

While the back-ne has been mitigated somewhat thanks to the new binders, the shoulder-ne is disgusting, and hasn’t seemed to improve despite my best efforts.  I worked out three times a week pretty consistently; unfortunately, I’ve had to stop because of binder-related back pain and asthma. I weighed myself a few days ago, and I was 187. People have commented on my weight loss, and I’ve noticed myself–it’s hard not to, though, since my pants keep falling off at inconvenient times.  I actually like working out, and I can’t wait until I can enjoy it without the pain of binding.

Binding is really starting to take a toll on my back, and I’m too uncomfortable to leave the house unbound, even though I still pass.  For example, I went to get a smoothie a week or so ago in only a sports bra and a loose polo.  While I was still gendered correctly, the cashier was obviously staring and thinking that two breast-shaped aliens would explode from my chest at any moment.

I also went to a birthday party that was drag-themed, and I wore a cup bra and a ridiculous poofy dress. I even stayed costumed for quite some time, which means I was in a dress for longer than I have been since I can remember. I wouldn’t have been able to do that even two months ago, so I feel it speaks to my increased confidence and comfort.

I’ve been having a harder time self-injecting lately. I’ve never had to put off a shot or anything, but I’m not really able to think about what I’m doing until after the needle is in my muscle. I’m not afraid of needles, so I’m thinking it’s that I’m upset at the idea of having to do this type of maintenance for the rest of my life.  Once I have surgery and change all my documents, I’ll be able to stop thinking about gender and transition all the time… except for a reminder every 10 days.  I am disappointed that the FDA has put off approving Nebido (a 3-month long shot of T that’s been used in Canada and Europe for a few years now) for up to two years.

Another very eventful month in my personal life, but life on the transition front is still pretty boring.  My partner had been doing my injections, but as of this past month, I’ve been self-injecting in the glute.  It involves a bit of contortion, but it’s worth it to know that I’m managing my own healthcare.

I’m almost positive that my jawline is more defined.  My facial hair comes in faster now, and it’s still pleasantly soft.  I have to clipper my mustache these days, along with my cheeks and neck-beard, because my whiskers are all quite noticeable.  I’ve noticed that more and more of my facial hair is coming in red; I don’t know whether to attribute this to my Irish/Scottish heritage, or to my spending more time outside now that it’s warm.

A few days back, I gave in and clippered my torso to about .25 inches.  I suspect that I’ll have to get a lot better at manscaping, since there’s no indication that the growth will stop any time soon.  I’m starting to get more noticeable hair on my chest, and my belly fur has spread out and now covers most of the available acreage.  On the back-ne front, I’ve been trying wearing an undershirt underneath my binder (per internet recommendations), and I’m waiting to report on the results of this tactic.

I seem to be getting back a wider range of emotions. I’m able to cry, at least a little bit, when I’m sad. I accept that it’ll never be the same as it was pre-T, though. I may not be as able to express my grief and sadness these days, but I am much better able to expess anger and frustration. To me, it seems to be a fair enough trade.