Waiting For You

Chapter 4: Dysmorphia

Chapter 4: Dysmorphia

Sam

Getting off testosterone has messed me up, both emotionally and physically. I can feel myself changing. My body doesn't look the same as it did eight months ago. I've got some of my ass and hips back. I've been trying to eat clean and work out more often, but there's just so much I can do when the hormones are taking over.

I don't feel it as much now, but when I first came off T completely in March it was like I was a junkie going through withdrawal symptoms. I was sweating so much. That first week, it was like I was dying. Lia was so worried about me, and I was a total dick to her.

Oh yeah, I was definitely moody, that's another thing. I'm not saying I'm a cold-hearted son of a bitch usually, but all of a sudden I just got riled up so easily. Everything pissed me off.

I couldn't sleep. I didn't have the drive to do anything.

I didn't want Lia to touch me. I felt so disgusted with myself. That was probably the worst part. I'm so fucking attracted to her, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever met. It killed me to think she might've been thinking I wasn't into her. It had nothing to do with her, but I didn't know how to explain it... so I just... didn't.

It was like the walls were shutting in on me, and there was nothing I could do about it...

I guess that's why I grew out my beard, to give myself some of the control back. I did it before going off T, while it was still growing quick and thick. I don't think Lia likes it too much, but in a way, I guess maybe it was my way of rebelling against my body and all of the shit it's been doing to me.

I don't know, maybe it makes me feel manlier.

Anyway. This whole thing, it's not a fucking good feeling.

And I'm afraid it's only going to get worse once I start injecting myself with fertility drugs. I haven't talked to Lia much about it because I don't want her to worry for nothing, but the body dysmorphia is really getting to my head. I haven't felt it this bad in years and it fucking sucks.

This kid of mine better be worth it.

It is Monday now, T-minus 5 hours before our next appointment with the fertility doctor. I was able to get off work, but I almost wish I hadn't. It's been a very long, slow day, which only makes me feel restless and on edge. At least when I'm staying busy, it makes me feel a bit more in control. I suppose that's why I'm spending so much time at the gym lately.

I've already been here two hours.

I remember when I first started transitioning. I used to go to the gym all the time. Back then I wanted to get into shape so that I could pass more. Now it's just a way to burn some energy, clear my head and keep the body I've worked so hard on. I can feel the burn in my arms and chest as I push the limits of what I can do. It's familiar. I feel better, more at ease in my own skin.

"Jesus dude, don't kill yourself," my friend Joey says. He's standing above me, hands outstretched, spotting me.

I finish my set and he helps me set the barbell back. I sit up, wiping sweat off my brow with the bottom half of my shirt.

"You OK?" he wonders as we switch positions.

"Fine," I lie.

He doesn't know. Not a lot of people in this town do.

I didn't grow up here, unlike my wife. I grew up in Columbus and went to school in Atlanta, which is where Lia went too. I was in vet school when we met. She was nineteen and in her second year of undergrad.

Lia came back to her hometown after college, which was always her plan. She wanted to teach at her old high school. Even after just two years of dating, I already knew then that she was it for me. So I followed her.

It's Joey's turn. He doesn't bench as much as I do so he has to change weights. He does his set. We switch again. I do my last one. There's no more talking, and I'm grateful for it.

I don't shower at the gym unless I have to be somewhere right afterward, but then if that's the case I'll usually just skip it or I'll go at another time instead. This time I say goodbye to Joey and I head straight home.

Lia's Impala isn't in the driveway and the front door's locked. That means she's still out at lunch with her sister. I hate to admit it, but I'm grateful for the time alone. I don't want to talk. I shower and I get dressed in clean clothes.

I have 3 more hours to kill before we have to head into the city.