Skinny Boy ✔

Chapter 23: locker rooms

Of course the end of my steroid cycle just so happened to be in the same week that school started. Of course I would find out if the adverse affects (man-boobs, acne, etc.) would reveal themselves, at the same time that people saw me again for the first time in months. 

I tried to reassure myself that there was nothing to worry about. I mean, I was taking anti estrogen agents according to plan, right? And I was taking the right amounts, and the right kinds, all at the right times. So I didn't need to worry. The testosterone wouldn't convert to estrogen, because I was taking estrogen inhibitors throughout my cycle, and a couple weeks post-cycle. I'd done my research, I stuck to the schedule, so there was nothing to worry about, right? 

But something deep inside me kept saying that I did something wrong. I repeatedly reassured myself every night that it was okay, I didn't forget anything. I had done everything I had to, everything I could. I could stop worrying, and relax. 

Nevertheless, fear-filled thoughts overflowed my brain night after night, my anxious thinking surfacing on my skin as nervous thoughts. The closer I got to the day I returned to school, the more nervous I grew. There was always something to worry about, something to dread. 

Snapshot.

When school finally did come around, I was so sleep deprived from sleepless, worry-filled nights that I didn't have the energy to care about what everyone thought, let alone pay attention. I barely had enough energy to make it through the day and stay awake, but somehow managed to keep going. Did I really have a choice though? Not really. What was I supposed to say? I barely sleep lately because I can't stop worrying about the effects of the steroids I've been taking. Sorry, can't focus--too tired. 

I wasn't that stupid. I was crazy, yes, but not stupid enough to mess up like that. 

I would just mess up in far more dangerous ways. 

A pencil prodded my back, making me jump. The teacher gave me a weird look, but didn't say anything. I turned around in my seat. "What, Garret?" I didn't have the patience for him today. 

"Dude, are you even alive?" he asked, voice so soft it could easily be mistaken for another pencil on paper. 

Only on the outside. 

I looked myself up and down. "It looks like it, don't you think?" I deadpanned. 

He held his hands up in defense. 

I've always been a witty, humorous person. Always have been, probably always will be. Garret expected sarcastic answers from me; most of my friends did. Lately, however, my sarcasm seeped with annoyance, and my dry humor hid (and not so well) an undertone of truth. 

And the truth was that I wanted him to leave me alone. I wanted everyone to leave me alone. As far as I was concerned, they were all nuisances. They were all walls standing between me and what I wanted. 

Snapshot.

~ 

I'd never enjoyed getting dressed in front of people in the locker room, though I don't think anyone does, really. But this year...it was different this year. Something in me was different since I'd last seen those stinky lockers. Something had changed over the summer, and I came back hating the locker room more than before.

That first day back at school, I wore a loose shirt and simple jeans. It was all just baggy enough to hide my figure, but not so much that it brought attention to me. When it came time to change before gym, however, there was nothing I could do to prevent people from looking at me.

Just slip your clothes off and slip the others on. It's as simple as that.

But it wasn't. And that's why in spite of the mental pep-talking, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. So I gathered my clothes from my locker, let go of a breath I didn't know I was holding in, and went to the changing stalls. As usual, they were all taken. Like I said before, close to no one enjoys changing in front of a bunch of people. I walked right past the locked stalls, barely sparing the doors a glance, and made my way to the toilet stalls. It wasn't convenient, but it would do for the time being. 

I guess I'll just have to get here early from now on if I want a stall. 

~ 

Chelsea texted me that evening. It was a short, simple, sweet text. How was your first day at school? 

I sighed, dropping the phone on the bed beside me. As much as I liked talking to her, I really didn't feel like talking. 

I knew the risks of taking steroids, and I knew what would be coming with my PCT. It was expected that my hormones would be all out of whack, trying to figure out how to make testosterone on its own again. But honestly, I hadn't prepared myself for what that would look like. Some days I didn't want to look at myself in the mirror, and just forget that my body existed. Others, I would go from being visibly agitated and ready to snap at the first comment about it, to wanting to isolate myself from the world around me, all within the span of 4 hours. 

Maybe this is what it feels like to be on your period. 

I smiled at the thought, half-amused by the mixed emotions I was feeling. 

Or maybe this is how it feels to be bipolar? No, not that extreme. Probably just PMS symptoms. 

The creaking of the door interrupted my train of thought. I rushed for my phone, turning it on and pretending to be busy. I didn't have much of a choice than to talk to Chelsea. It was either that, or I talked to my mom, who was looking at me from the doorway. I pretended to just realize her. I glanced up and hummed an acknowledgment. 

"You went straight to your room as soon as you got home. Don't you wanna tell your ol' ma about your day?" she asked.

I smiled a half-authentic smile. "I'm actually talking to Chelsea about that right now," I said right as another text came in. 

She smile back and shook her head. "I see, too cool to talk to your mom," she teased. "Tell Chelsea I said hi." 

Once she left the room and shut the door behind her, I took a deep breath and tossed my head back onto the pillow. Since when had I become so sneaky about things I didn't need to be sneaky about? Did I even know myself anymore. 

I let my chest rise and fall for a minute as I pondered these things. Coming to my senses, I remembered that I still had to finish my text to Chelsea. 

I'm a horrible boyfriend. 

She's only caring about me, and I'm annoyed by it. What is wrong with her? 

I didn't even bother to ask the same thing when her school started up again. 

I can't be that boyfriend that every girl wants, can I? 

If I couldn't be that amazing, kindhearted boyfriend for her, then I would at least try to be something. 

I would be the good-looking boyfriend. I would try with everything I had inside me to be that guy, even if giving everything I had meant losing everything I was. 

Snapshot.

~