My new T-gel facial hair…

My first fear proved to be totally unfounded. My lovely, if a little fluffy, GP was happy to prescribe the testosterone I want, and seemed happily bemused by my ill-disguised joy.

I still have my fears, but here is my Testosterone Wishlist:

1) A lower voice…soon, please! Nature gave me a sweet high lilting warble for a voicebox, which doesn’t work well when I’m ringing people up like the bank. I can practically hear them reaching for the big red Fraud Alert button when I give them my details. And really, who wants to be discussing their gender with a phone operative, however nice they may be?

2) More energy! I do appreciate that I’m not suddenly going to be filled with VaVaVoom, but after a lifetime of being pretty low on the energy front, I’d like a little more.

3) Speaking of VaVaVoom, I’m looking forward to a boost to the libido. I don’t mind admitting that I have suffered from an embarrassingly low libido my whole life, and would really like the physical drive to match my filthy mind. Oh, and a little enlargement ‘down there’ will also be welcome. Oh yeah.

4) Hair…and less hair. I don’t come from a very hairy family, so chances are I won’t come out of this looking like a Yeti. At the same time, whilst most men in my family have a full head of hair, there are exceptions. It’ll be really interesting to see what sprouts (or drops). And no, I don’t mind if I lose my head hair…though I’m pretty sure I have a lumpy head…

5) Bigger muscles, increased strength and better recovery time when exercising. Arnie Schwarzenegger I won’t be, but I’d at least like to be able to get a week’s worth of shopping back up the hill without expiring.

6) Body fat changes: Slowly but surely the fat around my hips, thighs and bum will migrate….to my tummy. That doesn’t sound so great, but if I can keep up the fight against my impending Homer Simpson belly, I think things’ll work out ok. My face will also lose a lot of its fat. I do have cheekbones…somewhere…now’s the chance for them to come out to play!

7) And last by nooooooooooo means least: no more menstruation. I can barely express in words the horror that my monthly cycle brings. Even without crushing PMT, scary mood-swings, pain, and crippling inconvenience, the sheer hate that I feel towards myself and my body at ‘that time of the month’ is monumental. For someone who already has huge issues around being feminine, and having to conform to the female state, periods are a monthly trial. They won’t stop straight away, but when they do, I shall cheerfully fling a tampon from the highest point I can find.

I start my hormone therapy tomorrow morning. I will be up at the crack of dawn to lather myself in Testogel, and I’m then going to see how much I can freak out my partner by threatening to cuddle her whilst it’s still wet…

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